Trying to Explain

I bought my ticket to Auckland, New Zealand.
It was my intention to spend a decent amount of time there before flying home from there, but it's not happening.
I am saving upwards of $400 flying to NY from there instead of Brisbane. I used my Qantas frequent flyer points to get a decent chunk off of the flight from Brisbane to Auckland, so all in all I am comfortable with the price of the plane (as comfortable as can possibly be with a sum over $1000....but we won't talk about that...)

I will be flying out of Brisbane and out of Australia on Thursday at 6:45 PM, spending a grand total of 17 hours in Auckland before going home. I thought long and hard over this decision, and in light of my bank account and in view of all of the things I want to do with my summer in the US, I am saving my money for those things.
 I'll be back coming back someday.

I have a list of all the things I want to do in Brisbane before I leave in less than a week.
I started packing yesterday and I'm like, halfway done already.

I promise to still write about Sydney, and I promise I'll come up with a list of things I'll miss and things I won't miss about this country and this part of the world.

But before that....I need to discuss something while I feel inspired to explain it.

Reverse culture shock for me is the hardest part of traveling.
You see, they prepare you for culture shock when entering a new country. It's all about looking up public transport and maps and the "must-do" attractions. It's about understanding customs and accents and politics and stereotypes and history and what to do and what not to do. It's all so new and it's all so colorful and bustling and it requires lightning-quick adjustments.

What gets ignored is reverse culture shock - how going home after it all....just fucking sucks.
I'm sorry to use the F word, but the sentiment requires it in this instance.

Allow me to try to explain what I mean by that.

I think travel is weird in a lot of ways, mostly because I find myself in genuine disbelief at my life.
I noticed this in London too, like, you know you are in a different place, you know that you are away from your family and your childhood home, but it doesn't feel all that different.

It never felt like I was halfway around the world then. Here in Australia, it doesn't feel like I'm on the complete opposite side of the world. It doesn't feel like I'm in a completely different hemisphere. It feels normal. But how could I have ever expected it to not feel normal? 
When I stepped out of Brisbane Airport, I was like, palm trees. This could be Florida. This could be California. This could be literally anywhere with palm trees. What should Australia feel like? and why should it feel like I'm so far away? Why did I expect it - and want it - to feel different?

The first time we went to Westminster and I looked up at Big Ben, I was just staring at it like, yep, that's Big Ben. That's St. Stephen's Tower and it's gorgeous. It's everything I wanted it to be, and now I've seen it, and I have the ability to see it every day for the next three months....why don't I feel different? Why doesn't this knowledge and this new mental image make me feel different?

When I was in Sydney, I was like, cool another city. Back in the city. Always in a city. We walked to the Harbour and I looked to my right and saw the Opera House and I said to myself, Self, that's the Sydney Opera House - take a picture of it! So I did. I saw the Sydney Harbour Bridge and that was cool too. But do I feel like a different person? Do I feel as though some part of me is more complete than it was before that moment? No. I just knew I had to see it before I left Australia, so as soon as I saw it, it was off my list. It was a complete "Now what?" moment. I was sort of stunned, like, really guys...now what? Day one in Sydney and we did the one thing that must be done in Sydney and the whole reason we came to Sydney, and we still have three entire days left? NOW WHAT?
I think also that's part of why I loved Melbourne so much. We didn't know what was there, we had no expectations and therefore nothing but discovery of the coolest city in this country.

Anyway.
I always think I'll feel different. That I'll go to these places and I'll see these landmarks and I'll feel more traveled. I will feel more happy. I will feel like my stay had a purpose. But it is never like that.
I'm not saying I'm not happy doing it, or that I'm wasting my time somehow - not at all.

 It's like when you plan your birthday and how your party is going to be and how it's going to be a great day because it's the first time you'll be this new age and the only time it will be the first time - and then its always ruined somehow. Someone or something just happens to make sure it is not the perfect day you planned - but that NEVER stops you from trying again every single year to have the perfect day.
It's like that. 

Reverse culture shock is coming home after it all. Going back to America.
Everything and nothing is still the same, it's a weird in-between that is just all kinds of uncomfortable.

I can't wait to see my family, my friends, and my room, and go to a grocery store and cry at how cheap everything is, and plan small trips and go to the beach and TACO BELL. It will all be out of place compared to how all of 2013 has been for me, so it will feel different - yet so normal and right because a majority of my life has been like that. Does that make sense?

Believe me when I say that stepping into an Airport it feels like all of your life is where you are going. Nothing else matters but you, your stuff, your passport, keeping track of your stuff, where the gate is, where your stuff is, where you can sit with your stuff, and then boarding hoping they don't stop you for having too much/too big of stuff. Then sitting on the plane you just want to be off of it.

Believe me when I say that stepping into an Airport after a trans-continental flight feels like none of it ever happened.
I landed in Newark Airport after London with Lindsay, and I could feel my happiness just sloughing off of me. With every step and with every person I passed I just felt less and less special. I had just lived in London for three months and traveled in the UK and Hungary - and I knew that no one could see that, no one cared, and all of the people who WOULD care, wouldn't care for very long - because life goes on.
Once I was through Customs and saw my parents in the arrivals area, it instantly felt as if it never happened.
If Lindsay wasn't with me, a wonderful friend and a glorious piece of Hollins and staple in London - if she wasn't with me - I don't think I would've had anything left to remind me in that moment of what we'd done.

The only way for it to feel real to me at all is for me to talk about it.
I've said this before so many times that I know people are bored with it. I know that it annoys people.
I know that I talk about loving it more than I loved it while I was there. I can't not talk about it. I don't think I'll ever stop talking about it.

I'm not explaining this very well....

Basically the only thing I dread leaving Australia is what it will be like being back.


I KNOW that as soon as I step off the plane in Auckland, my whole life will revolve around existing in that airport for 17 hours - then getting on a 12 hour flight to San Francisco and then a 6 hour flight to Newark. That will be my life.
Then as soon as I step off into Newark, I won't feel like yes finally - I'm home.
Nope.
I'll feel like turning right back around and going back to Australia.
I can't explain why because I know it won't make sense, but I know that's what I'll want.

I'll suddenly remember all of the things about the US that I was glad to leave behind, and I'll remember all of the things I'm thrilled to have back. But I won't feel like my life and time and travels in Australia were real.

Because part of me can't believe it is real right now, or that it has ever been.

And yet - and perhaps this is the most important statement of this entire post - and yet - none of this will ever stop me from traveling again.

Ever.