What A Long, Strange Homecoming It’s Been
“Let’s sleep with the kids,” I said on our first night back in our house, which echoed from emptiness because our belongings remained in storage. Morgan agreed, and with relief I unrolled my sleeping bag on my daughter’s floor, putting her and Kyle on one side of me and Morgan on the other.
I wanted to hear their breathing and feel their closeness one more night before everything changed back to our non-traveling life — before the movers came and filled our house with so much of the furniture and boxes of stuff that I now feel ambivalent about owning, and before my kids moved back into their own rooms and we all established our separate domains in this house that feels too big and fancy. I wanted to curl up in my sleeping bag and fantasize we were camping the way we did on the banks of the Colorado River or on the beach of New Zealand’s Abel Tasman Park.
Everyone has been asking how it feels to return home. The short answer is: weird, and tiring! I haven’t felt this conflicted and unsettled since … well, since we pulled out of our driveway to start the trip on August 15, 2009.
The penultimate stop: We drove through Yosemite on our last day and arrived home about four hours later.
At first, we were giddy with anticipation while driving back from the Eastern Sierra and seeing familiar landmarks that meant we were getting closer to home. Kyle even pointed to a freeway barrier and exclaimed, “I remember that wall!” We collectively felt the poignancy and optimism of starting a new chapter in life as Morgan heads down a different career path, I start some new projects, and the kids fix up their rooms and gear up for school.
Finally we reached our freeway exit and drove the final mile. The kids literally were shrieking with excitement and I held my breath as we braked to turn left onto our street, knowing our house would come into view and signal that we really had made it back, the round-the-world odyssey really was over. How would it look? How would I feel?
And then we made the turn, and what I saw caught me by surprise and deflated the moment in the most fitting and funny way. There at the edge of our driveway, like a monument or middle finger, stood a big ol’ porta-potty for use by workers at our neighbor’s house. How perfect: a harbinger of all the crap — of all the moving boxes, bags of mail, health insurance headaches and wood rot in the windowsills — waiting for us once we started to unload and settle in. I had to laugh.
This all happened three weeks ago. It has taken me this long to start to get my head around the transition and to return to this abandoned child of a blog.
We arrived on the Summer Solstice, when everyone was taking off for summer vacation. By contrast, we’d experienced summer all year long, having been in the Southern Hemisphere October through February, and it felt to me as though summer should be ending and we should get back to productivity. My daughter, let down by the realization that many of her friends had left town just as she was returning, unknowingly expressed my mood by what she wore her first full day back: she dressed all in black and donned an absurd Santa hat she found in a moving box, and she glumly hobbled around on crutches, having dislocated her knee the prior week, like a bird with newly clipped wings.
It felt so odd and slightly stressful to move our furniture back and confront the detritus of our past lives — the boxes and boxes of clothing and memorabilia I had forgotten about. I don’t need this I said to myself repeatedly — I don’t need the uncomfortable dress shoes I bought for a job I no longer have, the boring coffeetable books I displayed but never looked at, the 12 extra tea cups I saved for brunches I never hosted, the dusty picnic basket I put on top of the fridge for decoration even though we never made time for picnics — so I started a give-away pile that continues to grow.
And all those linens for our one bed — Morgan and I shook our heads as we unpacked giant boxes filled with the down pillow-top mattress cover, the thick damask duvet and the nine pillows. What bed needs nine pillows? We added the down pillow-top cover to the give-away pile because we’ve grown accustomed to futon-style thinner bedding while traveling, but we spread out and tucked in those expensive sheets and stacked all those velvet pillows in their place. Then Morgan put his hands on his hips, stuck out his chest and theatrically proclaimed, “I feel like a little prince!” which gave me another fit of crazy crying-laughter because this bed — this epitome of our union in comfort and luxury — no longer seemed like a cozy fit. But how long could I justify sleeping in my sleeping bag?
Everything in the house seemed to grow while we were away because our sense of size had shrunk; my bureau dresser, for example. It’s about 4 feet tall, with three columns of drawers in ornately carved mahogany. I began unpacking my things into the drawers on the right-side column because that’s what Morgan and I did whenever we’d unpack in a rental — I’d take the drawers on the right and leave him the left — and as I tried to remember how we divided the drawers in the middle column, I had a going-down-the-rabbit-hole moment of jumbled perception and jarred memory when I belatedly realized that Morgan in fact has his very own dressing area in the adjacent room with his own drawers, and this entire bureau is mine to use. I had totally forgotten this fact of how we used to live. I’m supposed to use this all myself? Why do I need all these drawers? Does this mean I can’t share space with Morgan anymore? I don’t want to unpack here, I never liked these frou-frou brass handles … all those hyper doubts and complaints sped through my mind as I unpacked two pairs of jeans and left the lower drawers empty. Only the drawer for running clothes had enough to fill it.
I was unpacking the clothes from two giant suitcases we used for storage — massive suitcases with wheeled bottoms that we bought long ago, before we realized the benefits of smaller, non-wheeled luggage. “I can’t believe we ever used to travel with those,” Morgan said. And then he looked at the one wheeled suitcase that we had taken on our trip, which was sitting near the bigger ones from storage — the black suitcase we used as a communal school supply and gear bag, which we derisively nicknamed “The Tick” because it looked so bloated and would stick to us when we wanted to get rid of it. Around the world we complained about The Tick, since it seemed so heavy and unwieldy compared to our lightweight clothing packs.
The one regular suitcase we traveled with in addition to our packs, aka "The Tick," flanked by the larger suitcases we used to use.
“Oh my god, did The Tick shrink?” Morgan asked. Indeed, it seemed like it had shrunk when we placed it next to the suitcases we used to use. Travel, I realized, truly had changed our perception of size and necessity. All my negative feelings toward this scuffed-up, black-sheep suitcase that we had lugged around the world melted into feelings of fondness and the realization that it symbolized our simpler-living, road-schooling nomadic life. I declared with sappy emotion, “I love The Tick! I want to keep it forever.”
In addition to moving back in, we faced the reality of literally plugging back in; that is, of re-establishing accounts with service providers such as electrical, trash, phone and cable that all generate bills from which we had been liberated. I cringe daily at the sound of the mailman on our porch delivering junk mail and bills.
We got a new SIM card for Morgan’s cell phone (the old one being leftover from Europe) and for over a week we shared that one phone, since I didn’t want to deal with setting up a land line and didn’t really want my own cell phone. I had this reclusive feeling of not wanting to hear a phone ring and not wanting anyone to contact me — not yet, anyway. The funny thing was, the new SIM card came with a number still registered with someone else’s name, someone named “Dorothy Bean,” which the phone company can’t seem to clear up, so all our outgoing calls show up on caller ID that way. I sort of like the element of disguise. Now I can call Morgan “Mr. Bean” and remember all the times he acted like the bumbling Brit on our travels by circling repeatedly around round-abouts while we hastily determined which exit to take.
I’m afraid I’m coming off like a complainer, and I’d like to say “yes!” when people ask, “Is it good to be back?” In many ways it is good, especially from the kids’ perspectives, since they’re happy to reconnect with friends and walk freely around their familiar neighborhood. And what a gorgeous neighborhood it is. I have renewed appreciation for how lovely these landscaped gardens and well-maintained homes are, having unpacked in so many modest abodes in areas with crumbling infrastructure. And some of the unpacking and settling back in has brought genuine joy. I was happy to unpack my kitchen tools and restock our pantry, for example, since I’m eager to cook recipes we haven’t tasted in a year.
Reconnecting with friends and neighbors has been the best part of this transition. Several families invited us to their homes for dinners, coaxed us to return to our annual tradition of building a 4th of July parade float, and paid us the ultimate compliments when they said we seemed more mellow and happy. Then, one week after our return, seven extended family members came to stay under our roof for several days, delightfully filling up this house and making it feel more like a home again.
Morgan used our moving boxes to take the lead on building the annual neighborhood float ...
... while I worked with my sister-in-law and Colly (she's in a Wilma Flintstone costume) to put finishing touches on it.
Morgan and two neighbors show off the end result: a Flintstone-themed parade entry for the 4th of July. This is the kind of community fun we missed while traveling, and which eases the transition back home.
Round-the-world travel gave us so much, and yet we missed the connection with local community and extended family. But it still feels weird to be back, and oh how I miss discovering new places, people and perspectives through far-flung travel. I’m trying hard not to lose touch with the positive ways that travel changed our behavior and awareness. I really don’t want to stir up the manic, multitasking, materialistic, controlling, bitchy and provincial parts of my personality that long-term travel helped me tame, nor do I want our stronger family bond to weaken.
I’ll try to write about the challenge of “maintaining change” (that’s not an oxymoron, is it? I hope not) in a separate post. For now, I’m happy to report we haven’t lost that awareness or closeness, and we’re really trying to live differently than we did before the trip — though I admit, that bed and all those pillows feel pretty darn comfortable.
Related posts:
- “Back to School” Becomes “Leave to Learn”
- The Sappy Departure
- One Year Later: The Time-Capsule Travel Letters and the ‘Eat Pray Love’ Backlash
- 83 Places, 5 Continents, 10 Months
- Eat, Run, Love
Tags: car travel with kids, family travel, homecoming, parenting, Piedmont, preparation, Sarah_Lavender_Smith, travel advice, trip ending
Hey Sar – You’ve captured so well the feelings you were expressing when we were together over the 4th. This is a funny, yet sad post. I hope you can find happiness in being rooted and see home as a foundation, not a noose. The kids are so happy and it was wonderful to see them with their friends. I hope they will still be best buddies now that you’re back. So many things for you guys to process. Selfishly, I and so many others are SO happy you’re back, close by and safe.
Love you -
Martha
welcome back! you guys had a super awesome experience! it’s been a blast following along.
Mike
I have tears in my eyes and goosebumps….I’ve been following your blog for awhile now, from the comfort of my office chair, and have enjoyed the expressive way you write, you’ve given us some ideas for the RTW we’re planning, so thank you for allowing us to travel vicariously through your experiences. It sounds as though you won’t be likely to forget what you’ve learned or fall back into former habits anytime soon, and if you find yourself doing those things, just start planning your next trip!
Welcome back! Great article. I can relate to the size issue and weirdness of being back. Although not quite the same it took about a year for me to feel “normal” after living abroad in London for 3 years. Our flat was about a quarter of the size of this house in Orinda. We had stuff when unpacking we didn’t miss one bit. Funny, I just visited friends who live in Vail who I jealously admire- they live in a simple 2 bedroom “apartment” and live well below their means and travel all the time. I wish we had started our new life back in America more like that instead of living here in Orinda where you have to consume and value things that really aren’t of much value.
I’ve been following your blog for a while now and just wanted to say how much I’ve enjoyed reading your posts. I look forward to reading your thought-provoking posts – thank you for sharing your experiences with us. And good luck in your new transition!
I followed you quietly for the past year and I never realized how much I’ll miss your posts. So glad to see an update after almost 3 weeks. Congratulations for your trip and the outstanding quality of this blog and hang on things are definitely going to get better, I’m sure you’ll get used to the pillows. Please keep us updated in the following months on the reentry process. Would you mind posting (or sending a private email) at some point about the financial aspects of your trip. I want a clue on how much I should save… Good luck and thank you again!
Hello there and thank you so much for this message; I appreciate the feedback so much!
I really need to write a post on the money/budget aspect of the trip, since many people want to know what it costs. Truthfully, though, it’s hard to put a price tag on the trip because I’m embarrassed to admit we didn’t have a real budget, so it’s hard to say how much you should save. We just tried to do the best we could — that is, spend as little as possible without making too many sacrifices to our ability to fully experience a place — wherever we were. The reason we didn’t have a set budget is because the costs varied wildly depending on destination (e.g. Argentina vs. Switzerland) and type of accommodation, and whether we were renting a car, and it felt too difficult to make a detailed budget since our itinerary changed quite a bit. We just kept an eye on our monthly balance, tried not to spend too much more than we were receiving in rental income for our house (4900/mo), and transferred money from savings as necessary. That said, I really need to add up the costs. In the meantime, here’s some advice:
- check out the oneworld.com airline site for a sense on what RTW tickets cost
- if you need to rent a car, as we did off and on, that adds up, so that’s another major cost to factor in
- Know that cities are always more expensive than outlying towns, so we tried to limit our time in big cities. Also, hotels are much more expensive than apartments or condo-type hotels with kitchenettes. Our food costs varied hugely depending on whether we were renting a place with a decent kitchenette so we could cook meals, or whether we mostly ate out while in hotels.
- We tried to spend 200/nite or less on average for lodging. Sometimes this was very easy; for example, our cabanas in Argentina or campground units Down Under cost less than 100/nite. But in places like Hong Kong, Venice and London, it cost way more than that (beware of hotels in big cities, too, if you’re traveling as a group of 4 or more because they’ll make you rent 2 rooms or get a suite-size room to hold all 4, which gets very expensive). We could have saved money by moving around less and renting apartments for longer term, but we wanted to be on the go more in certain places such as New Zealand and Switzerland.
We were not real budget travelers — we could have gone cheaper, that’s for sure, and we occasionally splurged (e.g. staying in a nice hotel in Hong Kong and visiting HK Disneyland) — but we did a pretty good job, in my view, of spending money wisely and frugally so we could really appreciate the occasional splurge. Also, our “splurges” were always on experiences — i.e., places to visit or things to do — not stuff that we bought. We spent virtually no money on shopping for souvenir-type things.
I hope this helps as a starting point. I’ll try to pull together something more specific about the costs for a future post. Thanks again!
Hi Sarah, I have loved reading your blog too. Only wish you had come to stay with us in the mountains instead of continuing your journey to Phillip Island!!
I can really relate to the size thing. When we returned from a year on the road our house just seemed palatial and for about a month we all slept in the kids end of the house…I too had got so used to their every breath and being so close.
I was also overwhelmed by the stuff I had………so many plates,cups,clothes to choose from. Loosing time each day making choices that hadn’t been a factor in our lives as we only carried one mug one plate pair of shorts or longs etc etc.
We are getting ready for October when we head back to Africa for an overland trip Cairo to the Cape. All four of us in a landrover for 4 months so back to the freedom of a small bag each and the fun of life on the road.
Good luck with everything!
Please don’t abandon this child!
Sarah, I agree with those above who found themselves going through a bit of a withdrawal given such a long gap between your last two posts. I love getting your take on the change in everyone’s perspectives (the dresser, the pillows, the tick, etc.) and look forward to hearing more about the disjunction between being on the road and off in the weeks and months ahead!
Hi Sarah,
I loved reading this blog. You are such a wonderful and expressive writer and it is so fun to hear about your adventures. I hope we can catch up futher in person some time this summer or fall.
Big hugs,
Kate
Hi Sarah,
I hope you keep writing too. I’m curious to know what things you will keep in your lives after your journeys abroad.
We have been home a year now after our year living in Spain, and I’ve come to really appreciate how our travels encouraged so many changes in our lives. One of the most unexpected was the new house we bought; I’ll let you read about it on my blog though if you’re interested: http://travelandtravails.com/unexpected-experiences/moving-and-life-changes/
Good luck with the unpacking and settling back in. I hope you keep sharing your journeys!
~ Dee
While we weren’t gone as long as you were, our family also just returned after a long-planned RTW adventure this spring. We arrived just before the Fourth of July and already had guests in our home! I too am hoping to hold onto the changes that travel brought (while appreciating my own bed and clean water from the tap).
Thanks for sharing your adventures, abroad and at home now.
I’m sitting here in Provence & thought I’d check in to hear you latest. It’s always fascinating to read the coming home stories after extended travel and how much it changes everyone & one’s perspective on what is important. Thanks for sharing and I hope you continue the blog (as I’m sure you will) as you have time.
Welcome home & DO retain the values and closeness that you learned on the road! Do share your keys on how you do that in a fast moving, consumer culture.
As we head into our 5th year of non-stop, open ended world family travel, I can’t imagine returning to our life in California now, but I could relate to a lot of your words. ( That bed and abundant pillows sounds like my old life! LOL).
We were stunned when we visited home after two years away traveling the world and found that our little village in Spain and our community there seemed more like home than our old neighborhood in California. ( Perhaps because we add deep immersion with our travels, not sure, but we have fallen in love with the freedom and deep bonding of the travel lifestyle).
I’d like Mihai and others to know that it doesn’t have to cost very much to travel the world very luxuriously. We’ve been to 33 countries & 4 continents ( most of it so far in “expensive” Europe) on just 23 dollars a day per person. I wrote a classic post on how to do extended travel for those looking for tips & resources:
http://soultravelers3.com/2008/06/how-to-do-exten.html
You had a fantastic trip, Sarah and I’m sure you guys will be off to more adventures soon. In the meantime enjoy the adventure of being home and settling in again, finding a new way of being.
I don’t think one can ever go home again, because time and experiences change us. You’ve changed and people at home have changed ( although probably not as much as your family). So in a way, this is just another adventure on your journey!
You summed up so well the conflicting feelings of returning home after long-term travel. Glad you and your family made it all the way around the world and home safely. I’ve certainly enjoyed following your almost parallel adventures (we’re in Greece and heading to Italy now).
While these feelings will slowly dissipate over time and you will resolve yourself to a feeling of normalcy, you and all of your family will forever be changed by this experience, that I am sure.
We are not looking forward to writing a similar post in 135 days when we return home. BUT, at least you have a home to go back to – we’re still trying to figure that very important part out…
Really enjoyed reading about your adventures. Follow up, even after the journey is over, is still fun to read about so, yes, don’t abandon this child of yours.
Ryan (www.RoundWeGo.com)
This is the second time I’ve read this post. I needed a little perspective. Today is our last day away after nearly 14 months — we head back to Los Angeles tomorrow to find cars and a place to call home. I’m terrified… filled with anxiety. Leaving last June was a cakewalk compared to what I’m feeling right now.
Thanks for sharing your experiences, it helps. I hope you do that post on “maintaining change.” I’d love to hear more.