Jiggity Jig

The dryer is working its magic after the first load, fond memories are unpacked and scattered about, and exhaustion from a forever of travel time is washed away. You know it was a worthy adventure when you return to find you have used up the life of your hot pink snorkel of 36 years, purchased in Hawaii and now snapped in two! Ah…it served a very dignified purpose helping me on my seahorse expedition and will enjoy its backyard burial come spring. (I know it looks orange, but it was hot pink at one time. So were my old fins and booties, but the ancient things keep working.)

Our chauffeur, “Pen,” asked about our favorite day. It was more like there were favorite moments to each day, excursion and country. Of course we’ll be happy to bore you with our photos, astounding videos (some are quite fun!) and tales of the travelers. (Sorry, Irving.) And Parsha can practice her cooking skills on us when we convene! But more importantly, I know we are looking forward to seeing friends and family after three long weeks.

As we return and I see that nothing is changed here in our abode – the vacuum cleaner carpet tracks are still there – I am hoping that something has changed in us. Perhaps we can glory in our astonishment at the immense diversity in humanity, the common bond of work, family, pride of country, the continual attempts to communicate, even if just through smiles, and the kindness that came from so many and that we hope we reciprocated. We are so much more alike than different, we just do those alike things different ways. I want to keep the memory of those street vendors, drivers, cleaners, families on bikes, market people – all of the service human beings and fellow sojourners in my soul.

Travel broadens our emotional intelligence, if we let it. Gets us out of ourselves to see a different way – not our way. Brings us back home. And we all know, there’s more than one way home! (Thanks, Keb Mo)

How happy to am to return to my family. My son looked taller and more handsome as he retrieved us from the airport. We haven’t ventured into grandland, arriving past bedtimes. And now, we do the woozy dance of time adjustment.