On Coming Home

Yup, I freaked out a little bit. Maybe a lot, or just a wee smidge more than I thought I would. I'm referring to my reaction to the title of this missive. It's now the middle of March 2014. Alli and I's rollicking Asian adventure (plus a glorious trip to Costa Rica thrown in there) has been over for some time now. We flew back from San Jose, CR on December 4th and upon setting foot in the Phoenix airport, a trip we had started in April 2012 came to a close. And just like that we were back in the land called America.

Family photo in a jungle tree house in Costa Rica. We're 25M (82ft) up in the canopy. For more info on climbing and sleeping in the tree we're in click here (THIS WAS AMAZING). *** Click to enlarge.

I think there's an unwritten rule in the travel blogosphere that you have to type a finale out, one last smattering of words that tie it all together. You know, the obligatory 'what it all means' entry, or at least, what we learned about other cultures and ourselves. Blah blah blah. Sounds like the potential to be real serious drivel, but hell, why not riff some on how this whole shebang played out. I think you're also supposed to be a tad more punctual with it than I've been. Oh well. I'll give it a shot.

I'd like to get a few things out of the way first. I didn't leave Ammmmurica for SE Asia because I had a problem being here. I didn’t hate my situation in Tucson at all. As a matter of fact it was just the opposite, I was having a ball. This wasn’t a soul-searching endeavor either. I was almost 28-years-old by the time we flew off to Singapore so I had a reasonably solid idea of who I was. I was set in my ways, and definitely had my opinions and convictions. Ask Alli about my stubbornness, she can attest to that.

We went over there to scope out some amazing places and meet the folks who live there; to get an upfront view of species and ecosystems we’d never seen before; to scarf cuisine foreign to us; to scratch an itch that had been bugging us for some time; and yeah, to help some damn sea turtles, too.

Home is where the cactus is. The expansive and always impressive Sonoran desert.

I don’t have anything grandiose to write on the lessons I learned about myself. Or have anything particularly poetic to say about our travels (in short: they were frickin' incredible). That’s not really what this post is all about. I could probably delve into some witty commentary on the inane buffoonery of drunken backpackers ‘discovering what it all means’ on a Malaysian beach or the zen highs-and-lows of Nepali public bus travel, but I can’t be bothered (that’s just one of the brilliant British phrases I’ve come to love).

This epilogue is about what it has been like to come home. To return somewhere I hadn't been for almost 20 months. I'd be ruthlessly lying through my teeth if I didn't say it was tough to return to the U.S. It's funny that when you're traveling around with no job it's viewed as quite romantic, but as soon as your return to your native country, you are in a sense homeless and out-of-work.

The entire transition has been much more complicated and frustrating than I ever could have imagined. In reality, and maybe I was being a little too naive, but I thought it was going to be fairly cut and dry. I come home, see friends and family, eat unhealthy numbers of al pastor tacos and Sonoran hot dogs, find a few Gila monsters, drink stouts and IPAs, get a job somewhere, find a house with the Lady and blend back into the blob of over 300 million people living here.

Literally my first Sonoran hot dog after SE Asia.

Not so fast hombre. I've accomplished all of the things above (though my taco and hot dog consumption could be somewhat higher), except overall it's been a peculiar transition. It's almost hard to put into words, but I am writing a blog here so I'll do my best. I felt out of step. I felt a sense of floating around events taking place, like I was watching it all pan out from a distance. Random things were shockingly annoying. Most friends had moved onward-and-upward since our departure. The fact that I was unemployed and the next age I turned was 30 started to freak me out. The latter statement was one thing I especially never thought would be an issue that I would grapple with.

The minutiae of daily life irked me: driving on eight-lane highways while passing the umpteenth Arizona strip mall; writing cover letter after cover letter; planning for rent checks, utility bills and car payments; not being able to buy any medication over the counter for whatever your ailment is (visiting a doctor in Asia? Fuhgettaboutit); the fact that a crappy sandwich from a student union here costs more than a delectable Malaysian dish swimming in peanut sauce; and so on and so on.

All of this griping though had to cease. Partly because I didn't want to devolve into some Larry David/Louis C.K. character that was always complaining about their situation. And partly because the reason I felt like this was that I wasn't ready to give up our experience. While we had been back in the States for some time, I kept comparing our post-trip life to our travels (for example: the laundry list of grievances in the previous paragraph). That just doesn't work.

I lost sight of what our return was all about: reconnecting with people, moving ahead in our professional lives, eating real cheese again, hiking through Arizona's stunning red-rock and saguaro-studded canyons, etc etc. We got to ride an exceptional wave for over 1.5 years, but returning only to nitpick away at daily life in America was taking away from the overall picture.

The Lady in Pima Canyon, Santa Catalina range, Arizona.

The truth is that the minutiae of daily life everywhere is irksome. While Alli and I regale folks with jolly, pithy tales of our life in SE Asia, there was plenty that you could label frustrating, too. Language issues; having an outbreak of slimy, airborne worms descend on your house, which ooze to death upon contact; the constant stress of helping run a conservation project in a village where your presence is not always desired; rats chewing through your hotel ceiling while one of you is deep within the depths of a post-malarial medication sickness; rubbing the wrong jungle plant causing your skin to burst into an itchy mess; living out of your sweat-stained backpack in poorly-ventilated plywood guest-house rooms; I think you get the point.

I was doing the same thing upon my return home that people do who don't enjoy their time abroad, whether it's for work, holiday or just plain living. It's unrealistic and a recipe for going down a post-travel depression wormhole to think anything in America is going to resemble our Asian adventure. You can't compare the two. It's grapefruits and durians. Hip-hop and K-pop. Hersheys and Milo.

So where do we go now? Alli and I have no plans to go abroad in the immediate future. We just signed a lease to an old-school adobe-esque house in Tucson. We've both lined up gigs, hers is back as a research specialist at the University of Arizona but in a new lab. I'm doing field work again (bats in Texas, herps in Arizona and surrounding states). We're also going to be an aunt and uncle come July. Exciting stuff, no doubt. With all this on deck and 2014 moving along, our time in Asia is getting farther away in the rear-view mirrow. But I'm finally okay with that.

I can sit here, content with what all the Lady and I were able to do. I can realize we were lucky, while I gobble down my grapefruit, listen to UGK or the new-ish Pusha T, and sip some hot chocolate. And if I ever start jonesing for some facets of our Asian life, I can always add a little sweetened condensed milk to my Hershey's.

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A random assortment of photos from Costa Rica and in the U.S. after our return. While some of the photos were taken by myself, a big shout out is in order for Alli who took a lot more of these overall than I did.

Tree climbing. No big deal. Crystal and Noah taking care of business. Seriously this is one of the coolest things I've ever done, like in life, not just on our trip. Check out the website and get in touch with Peter if you go to the CR: http://natureobservatorio.com/

Almost to the top, or bottom, of the treehouse. The entire structure (two floors, kitchen, toilet, shower, beds, lounge areas) is suspended. No drilling was conducted at all. So damn cool.

Birding in the morning after spending the night up there. Parrots and Toucans gone wild!

Look at that purdy birdy. Rubbed to perfection.

It had been awhile since I'd done a beer-can chicken, so what can I say, I was elated. And we smoked it too!

On top of a part of the Superstition Mountains, Arizona.

Polly (aka P-teazy aka P-town Supreme) is still kicking! Going on 16 years.

Buddies.

Creeping on a crested saguaro outside Pima Canyon.

Even got a Blacktail Rattlesnake (Crotalus molossus) out and about on our Pima Canyon visit. Welcome home indeed!

More Pima Canyon. If you've never been, go.

Making some Christmas time homemade BBQ sauce with Hailey and Barb.

Noah and Crystal on an outing to Madera Canyon. Their incredibly precious and unique dog Willow (aka Lil' Willie aka Ill Will) can be found below.

Our other temporary pet roommates (Irving and Raja). Watching, always watching, cats are.

You can't get a sub like this in Malaysia! Hell, you can't get a sub like this in AZ. Had to go to Jersey for this.

Christina is making moves at the bank!

Her snowy street on Martha's Vineyard.

And the new house her and boyfriend Owen just bought in the fall of last year. Adult moves!

Best. Dog. Ever. The Bear.

Yeah, it was chilly there. Sideways eye snow makes photos hard.

Bringing Sonoran dogs to Martha's Vineyard!

It is a science people.

Owen is into it!

The finished products. I definitely topped out at 4 or 5 this night.

Pretty sure it's mandatory for dudes to walk out onto frozen lakes and bust-a-move.

Walking around what I think has been deemed "the cutest darn neighborhood' on Martha's Vineyard.

They'sa so tiny.

Awesome family portrait.

Alli and I having some moments on the beach. "Drunk in Love," no big deal. Too cold to surfboard though. We be all night!

Obligatory photos from the famous Gay Head light house. The sand cliffs are majestic. So is Alli's pink down jacket.

Far from a Wounded Home

I'll always remember where I was on Sept. 11th: first period in high school, we were in the computer lab for some reason. Same goes for when 32 people were murdered at Virginia Tech: reporting class at university. I also vividly recall Alli waking me up, sick in bed, to sadly tell me Rep. Gabrielle Giffords, and other Tucsonans, had been shot and killed, only about nine miles directly north of our apartment. While I was scattered around the country (Maryland, Colorado and Arizona) for all these horrid events, one fact is constant: my feet were on U.S. soil. 

Now comes the Newtown, CT massacre. And Alli and I are far from home, around 9,000 miles roughly. I'll remember my location for this one too: we had just arrived at a guesthouse in Miri, a prospering oil boom town in Sarawak state, Malaysian Borneo. We hadn't been on the Internet for over 10 days. Soon I learned part of the story and my breaking the news to Alli showed how accustomed us Americans are to this news: "I think there was another shooting rampage" I said plainly. More info was gained and I learned the grisly facts and numbers we all know - 27 dead, including 20 first grade elementary school children. Reading that hours ago, and writing it just now, takes some air out of you. You feel helpless. Then yearn to get the full rundown on the awfulness that transpired. Then you're sad and feel for the families in Conneticut. And after that, at least for me, you're perplexed, depressed and pissed all at once.

In the end it doesn't mean squat that Alli and I are in Borneo, while our country mourns, and folks in CT try to cope with it all. For me, I'm already wondering if this blog entry is becoming too self-indulgent and I should just give the people want they want: exotic travel photos with pithy commentary. But I feel strange in this hotel room. I guess right now I'd like to be around a bunch of Americans, whether its for comfort, camaraderie or to figure out how the hell something like this can happen.

We all know these shooting rampages are becoming regular occurrences. Just since Alli and I left for Malaysia people have been gunned down in CO and OR. And we once lived less than 5 miles from the Safeway where 6 Tucsonans died and many more were shot. I've bought potato chowder and champagne from that store. Even high school and university shootings were becoming standard, but the event in Conneticut hit a new low: elementary school children. I'm not trying to downplay the other tragedies but this one stings even more. It's high time something be done about these shootings. And if all I can do to help out here is offer my damn two cents, then so be it.

Guns are entwined into our country's fabric. We all know this. I don't own one though. I have shot a few (mainly only to rid Southern AZ of those wretched, invasive Bullfrogs). I understand their power. But guns that can fire 20 to 30 rounds without reloading, with no pause at all, what do we need these for? I know hunters and that's not how they bag deer or elk. And I'm pretty sure not that many bullets are needed for those who feel the need to be strapped when hiking amongst bears or large cats. Last time I checked there was no North American equivalent to the blood ravenous gorillas of Michael Crichton's Congo. Who needs that many bullets? Are we becoming so paranoid that people think they need 30 bullets to defend themselves? 

Before and after the Tucson shooting there was a bill in the state legislature floating around that would have allowed guns on college campuses, with the idea to prevent the next Virginia Tech or Columbine. Luckily that bill never made it out of the statehouse. Is this really the tunnel we want to start going down: arming teachers, movie theatre employees, little league coaches, concert venue bouncers, maitre d's, etc? Is everyone supposed to walk around wide eyed waiting for the next gunman, feeling secure because it's legal to carry a concealed handgun? In Tucson, Jared Loughner sprayed bullets into Gabby Giffords and the nearby crowd. In Newton, Adam Lanza sprayed bullets into a room full of children. I can't stomach a future full of teachers, professors, Safeway clerks and the general public armed to the teeth. Where is the room for error in these scenarios? Is this what the inevitable solution is, to prevent these shootings by firing bullets to prevent more? For the sake of us all, I hope not.

I also really hope the gun lobby, which make no mistake is a massive K street bulldog, finally can come to grip with what has just occurred and please check their insincere bullshit paranoia at the door. No politician in their right mind is going to propose an outright ban on guns in the U.S. But I think a few things could start to change. Banning assault weapons. Reducing the number of bullets in a magazine. Restricting who can buy guns and bullets. Working on the numerous loopholes, which are gargantuan-sized, involved in gun shows. Improving mental health services in our country (I realize these are five huge issues to work on).

Let's actually do something positive for once after these tragedies, instead of insisting that "guns don't kill people, people kill people." Or stating that an armed populace is a safer one. I'm not calling for everything in the above paragraph to happen at once or even relatively soon, but considering the pace American politics runs at, it would be nice for the dominoes to at least start falling. I'm 28-years-old now. I was in high school when Columbine happened; at university when Virginia Tech occurred; sick in bed when fellow Tucsonans of mine died last year; and now I'm sitting in Borneo mulling Newtown over, and trying to think of something poignant to say about how the future will be different, or at least better. But it's tough. 

Columbine happened in 1999 and it feels like shooting rampages have become all too familiar since then. I like to be optimistic though. That's why I hope in this age of bitter politics and log-jammed brinkmanship, where each side is an endless pissing match with the other, we can move forward. It would be such a relief. In case you didn't notice, I failed to find something poignant to say. So I'll leave it at this. I send everyone in Newtown my condolences. My heart goes out to them. Hopefully by the time Alli and I get home for Christmas next year, I won't have sent another round of condolences to another town that will be branded in our nation's memory for all the wrong, tragic reasons.