Homeward Bound

It is Thursday night and I am curled up with a cup of tea, chocolate, and a laptop. For all the traveling we have done, it’s great to be in one place.

Last Friday we flew back to the United States: the land of the free, home of the hamburger. After the longest day of my life (17 hours of bright sunlight), I passed out for a couple days until I could figure out what time I should be sleeping. Truthfully, I didn’t mind. It was good to be back.

Our last days in Cambridge were spent collecting up last minute gifts, paying with pennies to get rid of loose change. All of us were throwing away clothes and books, praying that our suitcases made weight for the airplane.

We spent our last day in London and saw “Wicked” together that night. The production was incredible, everything from the costuming to the music.

However, it was all overshadowed with the expectancy of returning home. Saying goodbye to our friends and guides seemed more surreal than sentimental. On the one hand, I felt like I could live in England, yet on the other hand I was ready for some familiarity and permanence.

Walking off the British Airways flight, America greeted us with southern accents and fried doughnuts. I grabbed some food at the airport and the cashier smiled as I tried to figure out how to pay with paper currency again.

Eating my dinner, I noticed how our “regional cuisine” in America was hamburgers and Dunkin’ Donuts.

Now nearing a week after we returned, I have been anything but bored. I have to catch up on movies, get a tan at the beach and, most importantly, post hundreds (well, in my case, thousands) of pictures on Facebook. Somewhere, in between everything else, I will find time to finish up my research projects.

Despite my determination not to, I had my share of reverse culture shock.

I have to drive a car to go a mile down the street? I have to keep my cell phone charged and with me at all times? It costs how much? Where are the metro lines? Where are the bicycles?
If you see me wandering around with a backpack or biking frantically on the interstate to Chattanooga, don’t be alarmed. I am still adjusting.

I already miss the rest of our group from this trip. Two and a half months with the same 21 people will bind even the most diverse individuals together. We are family now. We’ve been through the good, the bad and the ridiculous.

Now at the end of the Cambridge trip, we find ourselves at a new beginning. Several seniors are preparing for life beyond. Others have caught the travel fever and are already planning their next adventures.

We are all splitting ways and going back to our jobs, studies and friends, but one thing is for sure: at the risk of sounding cliché, none of us are who we were when we left.