A reflection on expating

Eight years of expating and suddenly it was over. No big build up, no long goodbye: one day I was an expat, and a week later, after making an extremely difficult decision about family and future, I was on a plane to Florida unable to sleep and often staring at the back of the headrest in front of me with the "What just happened, where am I going, what am I doing?" expression. You know, this one:

There is only so long one can live abroad before there is a tug of heartstrings for home. However, in eight years America has changed so much that I have returned to a place familiar, yet so changed - technology, politics, the fried pickles recipe at Rocket to Venus. As we used to say in Egypt, it's 'same same but different'.  

And I am different, too. I am not a thirty year-old singleton setting off into the world for love and adventure and searching to quench my inner Indiana Jones. 

Egypt and Mexico and Korea changed me. The revolution changed me. Love and loss have changed me. The beautiful people who pepper the globe, and whom I am privileged to call friends, have changed me. Teaching has changed me. 

Tasting languages, foods, and the air in different places and different times has chiseled bits and pieces of fear and suspicion away. Feeling the generosity, smiles, and goodness of people I have encountered on my travels has added empathy and understanding. 

I'm a bit pudgier for my travels. I'm a wrinklier, older, creakier me. I'm a happier me.

I've lived in four countries in my life. Seven cities. Fourteen homes. Of them all, Cairo has left the biggest mark. My friend B once said that the first place you live abroad will always be your favorite place you've ever lived, and I think that is true. Despite the craziness and chaos and dust and diesel fumes, I still think Cairo was the most beautiful place I've ever called home. 

I've traveled to some 25 countries outside the U.S. - and I do not plan to stop traveling; though the years of squat toilets and hostels and overstuffed backpacks are hopefully behind me. 

I'm deeply contented, despite the uncertainty of unemployment and future, because I didn't come back to America for politics (certainly) or fried pickles (though they've been on my mind); I came home to build a life near the people who were important to me before I went away, and who are still so important to me now: wonderful people who welcomed me home with hugs and beer and a ukulele.

And so, this blog is on pause. I will likely expat again, but for now it's nice to be sinking my roots into the soil of my homeland.