The Next Bold Move – Me Vs. The World

Funny, flying into the airport today was all too familiar.  Even going through customs felt like second nature.  I shared a cab with a guy from Sweden.   He was much more argumentative with the price than I usually am, but then again I just get ripped off and take it as part of being a white girl traveling who doesn´t speak Spanish.  My fault really.  He won and we payed about what I normally pay when I don´t argue, haha.

I´m back at the same hostel that was my starting point and will soon enough be my ending point in Peru.  I come and go so often that a couple of the young kids who work here ask, “where were you this time?” whenever I come in.  I suppose most people take South America by force.  Starting somewhere and continually moving on to another country and another and another departing somewhere far from where they started.  I don´t like that.  I stuck to “P” countries by accident this time (Poland or Pakistan should be next), but I like staying somewhere and really getting to know it.  So, the Flying Dog Hostel in Miraflores has been my little home in Lima.  I get new roommates and other backpackers in the TV lounge each time I check in, but I feel comfortable here.

I hesitated when the Swedish guy asked me where I was from in the cab today.  I couldn´t remember what to say (this is quite normal for me seeing as I have been known to forget my name, age, address, etc at one time or another).  I finally said, “California,” but it came out shocking and I´m sure he probably thinks I´m crazy.

I feel like I´ve been gone from the states so long that Lima feels like home.  Weird.  I remember going through this same feeling when I lived in Scotland, and in Iraq the one time my boss showed any concern for my well being was when I referred to my office as “home.”

It´s that moment when you realize home is where you are, not where you are from anymore that makes you feel comforted and alienated at the same time.  It´s like driving by the abandoned farm house where I grew up.  That´s home, but it´s not.  That life is over now.  If you have never experienced what I´m saying – on vacation or after moving to college or wherever – you probably won´t get what I´m saying, but if you have then you know – it´s the weirdest feeling in the world.  It´s that feeling of living in limbo.  Of being a vagabond.  You are home wherever you go.  It´s sad and beautiful, but then again California isn´t really where I´m from either; it´s just where I´ve lived the past 2  years.

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