The Return

The flight back home to San Francisco was quiet and solemn. I read. I listened to music. I tried to push out the thought that all I wanted to do was stay in Brazil. There were so many places I hadn't been able to visit - the seaside city of Florianópolis, the breathtaking 272 waterfalls of Iguazu Falls, the island Fernando de Noronha that some say is the most breathtaking beach on Earth. I wasn't ready to go. I wasn't ready but my visa had expired and although it was a close decision, I would rather have kept my job and not take the chance of getting deported.

There's always more places to go, more things to do when you travel. But my main goals had been met. I'd seen some of Brazil and Argentina. I'd done some good work mentoring and training people in the office, and starting a local resource website for my group. I'd had a blast, made great friends, and learned how to get around decently in Portuguese. I'd gotten my heart broken, which is always a traveling plus. Oh did I forget to mention that part? He was drop-dead gorgeous and incredibly sexy in the way he carried himself. I was surprised when he asked me out. When he kissed me on the dance floor it was like a scene in a bad romantic comedy - I forgot about my mojito and slowly spilled the entire contents on the floor. I knew I was signing up for trouble since I wasn't staying, and I didn't care. It was worth it.

I reminisced about this on the plane. Even my body was pissed off about leaving. I napped in my seat and when I woke up my neck muscles were contorted in pain. My legs ached, restless and begging for a Sao Paulo danceclub. But my return that day was inevitable.

When I got back, a funny thing happened. I liked it. I felt that warm fuzz feeling of home, and remembered who I was back there and who surrounded me. After three months of not missing my family or friends, I suddenly missed them. Maybe I had missed them and didn't even know it.

A longtime runner, I felt the urge to run, and far. I ran one block to the pandhandle, through Golden Gate Park, past the DeYoung museum and Stow Lake. The large purple flowers by the stream made me realize just how much beauty there was in this city. I kept going all the way to Ocean Beach. I felt alive, invigorated, and somehow much wiser than I was three months ago.

Now, you may notice the timestamp on this post. It happens to be a while later. I've been busy. Yes, busy for two years. Better late than never.

I still keep in touch with a few friends from Brazil. Luana, Bibiana, Ricardo...I hope I get to visit them again someday. And I realize something: ultimately, it's not the place that you have the best memories of; it's the people.