Home is Relative

In the last month and a half I have been traveling a lot. I love it, but it makes things a little confusing especially when you are crossing the boarders of not only country lines; but lines of culture, socio-ecomic status, and expected roles. Last month I went to Nepal, to India, to the US, back to India, to China – Shanghai, Beijing and Hong Kong and now back to India once again. I have been a pseudo daughter, a volunteer, an independent businesswoman, a great friend, an organizer, and a protective mother. I have sat on both the floor and at fancy tall tables for dinner. I have done manual labor and been the recipient of someone else’s. I have ridden in cars, buses, planes, boats, rickshaws (auto and cycle) and have crossed streets effortlessly looking both directions.

I thought that China was going to be a culture shock for me, but despite communication, I found it to be clean and organized. Nothing fazed me except the contrasting beauty of the Hong Kong Skyscrapers rising out of the lush green mountains; but that is beside the point. The real point is that I should be experiencing some type of culture shock when traveling but I have not yet. I wake up each morning and before opening my eyes ask myself, “Where am I?” The answer then tells my what my next move should be and what role I should be playing.

For those of you who don’t know yet, my office is closed and where I previously found myself debating whether to extend my stay or not, I have found myself with no choice; having the decision made for me. You are going home. Home…I thought that I was home. I look around my room and I see all of my stuff; my bed, my music, my pictures and the books that I have surrounded myself with. My phone is ringing with friends wondering when I am going to come home. Home…home is where the heart is. When I was home for a wedding I was surrounded by all of my best friends, my family, my boyfriend, my comfort. Home…isn’t that where I grew up and with those that I love. Then why did I feel like my other home was calling me?

Over the past week I have been traveling with a mix of American and Indian students. I was straddling a line of cultures. Two that I know very well but even then I found myself learning about both of them as if they were new. I will continually learn about the Indian culture, just as I now analyze the American culture through a new lense. “Don’t forget that you are American too.” I was told on tour when giving feedback about wardrobe selection.

What does this all mean for me? I find myself questioning this more frequently as my deadline approaches. Is Delhi my home? Or is it just a place that I stayed for a year. When I settle in with my friends and family in Boston will the memories and yearning for the people, the crowds and the intense heat fade? I sure do hope so, because right now I find myself scared of a world without India and I hope that home becomes wherever I find myself next.