Where is home to a traveller?

Semana Santa (Holy Week) in Central America is taken very seriously.  Most people get the entire week off and head to the beaches with their families if they aren’t religious, or if they are, they take part in elaborate processions and ceremonies.  One of the most famous places to go during Semana Santa is Antigua, Guatemala, where millions of people come from all over to observe the processions and intricate sawdust carpets (alfombras) that are made in the street.

Having lived previously in Antigua, I knew that the town was going to be filled to the brim with tourists, and that the normally calm cobblestone streets would be almost impossible to navigate due to the crowds.  However, as I wanted to take advantage of my week off, I decided I would brave the crowds and head back to Antigua, after not having seen my friends there for over 2 years.  I told almost no one I was coming, and enjoyed the varying levels of shock and surprise when I would casually walk up to their workplace or house and greet them like I had never been away. 

I lived for almost 2 years in Antigua, but worked 12 hour days and almost never had a chance to take in the town as a tourist would.  It was an odd sensation to be back in a place that I had once felt a sense of belonging to, to see that I was just a drop in an ocean of a constant stream of expats taking up residence in the beautiful colonial town and that the moment one of us leaves, another one steps in to fill our place. Living now in Tegucigalpa, a city with very few foreigners, I found myself gawking at all the variations of humans in Antigua, having gotten used to my own face in the mirror being the only outsider I see.

I was struck many times by a sense of melancholy – the passage of time marked by the marriage of friends, the growing of their children, the evolution of their lives somehow made me feel like I had been treading water in a pond while everyone else had learned how to swim in the ocean.  As happy as I was to see everyone again, I felt also very insignificant, because my life no longer has any cause or effect in that part of the world. It is strange to realize that the impact I make in the world is not measured by any physical evidence, but simply in the experiences I have shared with others.  Once those experiences no longer have any relevance I too, cease to have relevance in that part of the world.  Good thing that memories last a lifetime, because I know I will always have the friendships created by those shared experiences.

In total this week I spent 29 hours on a bus getting to and from Guatemala.  I slept little, drank lots, ate lots, laughed lots, surfed (my back is not happy with me about that), hung out with lots of babies, friends old and new,  and in the end arriving back in Tegucigalpa, I was shocked by how much it felt like coming home.  I guess home for me is where I create my sense of belonging - a place that I have purpose, goals, and a semi-comfortable bed, and for now that place is right where I am. It's nice to feel that I'm right where I am supposed to be.