The last day of my European adventure, at long last! We spent our last pounds and pence on the taxi ride, courtesy of a nice Punjabi man, and a few Cadbury chocolates to tide us over for breakfast. Really, the entire day was one long waiting period, divided into ways of biding the time. First, it was waiting to get to the airport, then to get through all the security protocol, then for our gate to open, then for our plane to start, then for the flight to end. Next, it was to get through customs and make it onto our connecting flight, only to wait a few hours more for it to end and finally land in Salt Lake. Lastly, it was waiting to arrive at my brother-in-law’s grandparents’ home to get my car, for us to get to my sister and brother-in-law’s home, and then stay awake until late MST to help adjust to being in a time zone that’s at least 7 hours earlier than I’ve been in for the past 3 months. And, what with all the waiting I’ve done on this trip for trains, metros, and whatnot, I like to think that I’ve become more patient and laid-back while waiting…What ARE we in such a rush for? Maybe slowing down will actually cut out some stress and extend our lives. Even so, I am grateful that I did have movies and food and a book to help pass the time and distract me from my anxiety to get to my blessed America during my long flight home.
All the same, all the weeks of waiting and longing to come home and the last few hours of traveling to finally get to my destination were worth it, especially when the customs officer told me, “Welcome home,” and the pilot on our flight acknowledged to hard work and valor of our military personnel on flight, ending his remarks with a warm, “Welcome home and God bless!” No, I am not yet at home in the town I grew up, nor do I have an apartment to call my own, but I am indeed at home in the sense of being back in the culture I was raised in and have taken for granted for all these years!
As we came in for a landing in the Salt Lake Valley, I looked down at the neat, orderly rows of housing of the cities below and wondered to myself whether or not they are in actuality much different than the ones of the metropolises I’ve spent the summer in. Tout à coup, a realization struck me: Yes, they are different; the ones directly below me had yards, lawns with grass and trees, not to mention that the very layout of the Utahan neighborhoods is more linear and organized than those of Paris, Lisbon, Madrid—you name the city. Sure, they designed their vast cities with undulating curves so as to hinder attacking catapults, but ours were designed for commerce and transportation. It is in such simple details that one can see how drastically history has shaped the cultures on these continents separated by an ocean. I have had the taste of Europe on the one side that I for so long yearned for. I, like my country in the eyes of the world and relative history, am young, but I am grateful to my time in Europe for pushing me to grow up a bit more and for helping me to see what a gem my life in the blessed United States has been. No, I know that the places I saw were not third-world by far, but the very differences of simplicities such as toilets, toilet paper, and toilet handles or ways to do laundry, or what side of the road and car to drive on and in—simplicities I never really questioned because they seemed so natural—were brought to my attention and appreciated at last.
My sister and her husband feel like the beginning of their two-week long trip was long ago, and my sister has mixed feelings about being back and having to go back to work in just over a week from now. I, however, am ecstatic to be back. I even can use my American phone again! I came back and received multiple texts right away from my brother, asking about where I was, how I was doing, and wondering why it’s been so long since I’ve update my blog. I’ve got work to do, but after having had a few months of wandering, I’m ready to settle back in! So, I just want to end this trip chapter of my life with a few thanks.
Merci, Paris, for the crêpes, waffles, pastries, and for being my first European experience.
Gracias, Spain, for fulfilling one of my life’s dreams and for giving me a view into my mom’s youth.
Obrigada, Portugal, for reminding me of my hometown and for showing me the value of both understanding a language and being able to respond in it (rather than just understand).
Merci and gracias, my French and Spanish friends, for teaching me your languages and welcoming me in for even a brief time.
Thank you, Ben and Ashlee and Bonnie, for teaching me how to ask questions and become more independent while having fun!
Thank you, my dear SPAN 105 and 106 students and BYU and the US Government for providing me with the means to go to Europe.
Thank you, Mom and Dad and my family and friends, for your support and many prayers on my behalf. I love you. You are the reason I could look forward so much to coming back.
And thank you, Heavenly Father, for always being there, always hearing my prayers and those of my parents; always putting the right people in my path to teach me and help me or so I could help them; always protecting me and guiding me; sometimes showing me glimpses of what I might expect for my future; and sometimes filling me with complete peace, regardless of where I was. I know that the ups and downs were meant to be experienced and that you have shaped me into a better person. Thank you for blessing me with a home in the United States of America in a loving family, surrounded by loving friends and with the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints as a constant in my life, no matter where I go in this world.
How did I ever deserve such incredible blessings?!?
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