Homesickness

As long as I’ve been able to think, I’ve been one to dream. I’m sure my parents could regale you with stories of the games I’d make up and the tales that would come dancing out of my head. I think that’s part of the reason I was so attracted to acting; it was a way to live other lives without having to give up my own. Alternative universes hold a taunting attraction to me.

With that in mind, it should come as no surprise to anyone that I had a litany of daydreams before moving to India. It had been a longstanding dream of mine to live in a foreign country, with all it entails. I can’t pinpoint a specific fantasy that I had, but they were sweeping and grand, filled with tame adventure and lush romance. Not of the sexual kind, but emotional romance. I was going to fall in love with this new home of mine and it was going to fall in love with me.

Seven months in and I can say that the daydreams are far from the reality we’re facing. Life here is a constant struggle for both of us. A struggle to be understood, to shed our American-born instincts and prejudices. We spend a great deal of our time venting to each other about petty things that happened. A woman in line pushed me to do her best to shove me out of her way. A man in an auto almost ran me off the road because he didn’t want to wait for me to pass. We have yet to make any friends of any kind. We’re too new, too different. Instead of wanting to be our friends, people would rather study us and watch us, like animals in a zoo. So my best friend has been promoted to sole friend, for all intents and purposes. Not that I’ve forgotten about everyone back home. In fact, I probably spend more time thinking about everyone than I ever did when we lived closer to each other. But with 14 months looming in the future, you all seem so damned far away as to be surreal. I’m not quite convinced that the world we left still exists.

This past week, we both went through a real bout of homesickness, which inevitably led to discussions about the possibility of visiting. Our friend Ali, who visited for two weeks and left last Saturday, brought me crashing back to reality when she told me that her visit home had increased her homesickness when she got back to Japan. That tidbit, mixed with a bank account that is perpetually decreasing, convinced us that we should only go home if it were a complete crisis of homesickness (barring true family emergencies, of course) and only after we’ve passed our halfway point in this journey. Because going home now means returning to fourteen more months and the knowledge that I only made it through the first seven before I had to run back home.

I don’t mean to be a big downer and I don’t want anyone to think that we regret our decision to move here. I think we’re both more and more certain that we’ve done the right thing. We like challenging and pushing ourselves into uncomfortable situations. But with all of this in mind, we have a request. We know that the people who read this blog think of us and not just when you read the blog. We know that there are scores (okay, maybe just dozens) of people who truly care for us. So this is the favor we ask of you. When you think of us, either of us, just let us know. It doesn’t need to be a dramatic, pages long e-mail. Just one line to say that we’re still there even while we’re here. And when you read the blog, let us know that you did. Even if we don’t know you. (Yes, that means you, whomever you are in Australia reading this. We want to know you too!!!!) It helps us feel just a little more connected and therefore a little less lonely.