2 months later...

You know you're in South America when...your one-hour 'direct' flight is delayed for half a day (there's no radar and when the fog finally clears the pilots are busy eating lunch), then you get a free, three-hour stop, two-plane-change aerial tour of the country, only to arrive 16 hours later, just beating the 18-hour bus ride you were initially trying to avoid. -Andrew Dean Nystrom


There was a time when this summary was a painstaking reality. After 8 months of travel, I could not wait to get out! I was tired of being on the road. I no longer wanted to deal with the obstacles contributing to South America's zest and my not-infrequently loathing of it. I had had enough of 22 hour bus rides on unpaved roads, dirty washrooms forcing me to carry a constant supply of toilet paper, locals with no concept of personal space, traveler's diarrhea, over-priced hostels, bank international withdrawal fees (I've been charged over $200!), mountainous piles of garbage, bugs, begging children, language barriers, living out of a backpack, other backpackers, diarrhea, bad pizza with no tomato sauce, strange tasting powdered ketchup, traffic jams caused by sheep, early morning markets, border crossings, launderettes and mysteriously missing laundry, tourism agencies and their sales pitch, crazy fast drivers, strange skin reactions, altitude sickness, diarrhea, bottled water, ill-informed Lonely Planets, town riots, staring, chicken-foot soup, raw room-temperature meat, streets with no names, late-night bus movies in Spanish, bus drivers with little air-temperature control, cold showers, hard beds, soft pillows, partying hostel dwellers, 2-week holiday-goers, jaded travelers. I sadly became the latter, and at the time, could significantly lengthen this list. Now, 2 months after saying goodbye to this eccentric continent, I find myself missing it more than ever.

I'm in California at the moment, about to fly to Canada and my family for the holidays. I am in limbo; negotiating how to get an American work visa, where to call home, how to not be a bum. The transition from South American to European and finally American culture has been a difficult one. I find myself longing for the things that once annoyed me. I want back the simplicity of living, the love I experienced for myself and the people around me.
Those I befriended reminded me of the importance in family, community, nature, folklore, religion. How sacred culture should be. People, both local and foreign, who convinced me to volunteer with underprivileged kids, and to climb not 1 but 2 high peaks. It was through them that I discovered only when tested do we truly know ourselves. They reminded me of why I travel.