And so it is that my trip back home has come to an end. I begin to feel something all-too-familiar.
It’s the catch 22. The snag. The hook.
Or the cost. It’s the cost of the adventure, the travel.
Lots of people say they love to travel. They love to experience another culture. This is only partially true. It would be more accurate if these people said, “I love to be a tourist.”
There is nothing wrong with being a tourist. I’ve been a tourist in several countries. You learn from being a tourist, and it’s also a lot of fun.
But there is a difference between being a tourist and an alien. The biggest difference is this catch 22, this pain that most aliens know. We never talk about it. Maybe because it’s understood- we all know it, and we all know that it is what it is, and there is nothing to be done about it. It is not heavy, but it is always there. It is our silent passenger. It is the weight in each of our hearts that we hide in every snapshot of us doing something cool.
It is the pain of leaving our families and homes. The price of the adventure is high. But you get what you pay for.
I miss Japan. I miss my Japanese friends, my apartment, speaking Japanese. And when I’m there, I miss my American friends, my home, my family.
But I do love to travel. And this is the cost.