It's Thanksgiving and I am in Canada giving thanks for an abundant lack of beans and tortillas, fall colours, the sensation of feeling chilled, and many, many warm and welcoming friends and family. After 8 months out of country, I was spurred by a bought of homesickness and a window of opportunity that presented itself after the successful completion of the Sources-Fuentes project , to come for a visit before the snow flew in earnest.
Oh man, cream in coffee has never tasted so good. I've also appreciated walking trails, and the smell of the aspen, and the cozy feel of wood heat. All round, I've been soaking it in and seeing things with new eyes. In a little over a week I've surfed six different couches and one cot in a prospector's tent out in the Peace country wilderness. I'm just getting started. Canada is so darned huge, and we are such a mobile society...I'm trying to squeeze all my pals in, but alas...not gonna happen. Well, I'll make my best effort anyway.
They warn you about reverse culture shock being harder than the original culture shock when you travel somewhere new. Re-entry into your own culture's atmosphere can burn. Well, I'm still riding the giddy, "Wow am I ever glad to see you!!!" wave, so nothing is hitting me too hard just yet. I do however notice that we tend to have ALOT of stuff. We really are a material society. Our tolerance for clutter in our very large homes, and our 2nd vehicles, and our garden-tool and toy filled back yards is extraordinary compared to Honduras. Our kids also tend to be basket-cases. Honduran kids, no matter the class or economic status, seem to be more even-keel and less "scream back at your parents" than ours do. I'm not sure what the difference is exactly, but it might be a combination of greater extended family supports, intact parent-child hierarchies, and less processed foods. I really don't know, but it is a definite trend. Please Goddess, let me learn something about raising kids from the Hondurans. They might not have high-chairs or strollers, but they've got something that we do not.
When I leave I'm going to drag with me my blue mandolin that I don't yet know how to play, some books including a recipe book that I can consult when the monotony of beans and...you guessed it...tortillas, gets to me, and maybe my thermarest and a tent so I can go play in one of the nearby national parks with my friends and my bbfe (best boyfriend ever) Humberto on a sub-tropical camping trip.