Reverse cultural shock

I arrived safe and sound, despite the fact that my flight resembled hell more than anything else in this world. There was a problem with the fuel pumps, they said, and we flew for about 5 hours over Europe, from Frankfurt to the Bay of Biscay and back to Germany, without any reason but burning fuel. Apparently, we had to throw fuel into the sea, I missed that part, thank God, I really got scared. There was a point in which I thought I would die, no joke. I tried to read my friends' letters, to think positively. The plane followed unusual routes, flew in circles, went down and up repeatedly, trying to land and again, back into the ring... By the way, I took a photo of the spectacle we had to see on the screens all over the plane:


Anyway, it was a key moment, I think. When I finally arrived in Buenos Aires, the next day and by another aircraft, I was so comforted and happy due to the arrival that I forgot a lot of unhappy stuff concerning the fact I was leaving so much in Germany, and I came refreshed in body and energized in soul. Everything happens for a reason.

I can't say I suffered during the first months in Germany, but I experienced a sort of cultural shock when I arrived, a shock about which I had been opportunely warned before my departure. But nobody really told me about this feeling that you have when you come back to the 'known stuff' after floating around for a while. To all appearances, this would be the panacea, and coming back shouldn't necessarily be any kind of trauma... Ok, shouldn't be. But yes, it is.

What happens when the 'known stuff' doesn't satisfy you, isn't as you expected, or just you didn't miss it? I found myself as part of a strange culture in my own country, what the fuck! Then I ask myself, how could I have lived so much time without seeing the reality around me? I have come across many people since my return, and lots of them have asked me so shameful things about my experience that I thought they were fully sick. I can't stand a culture which more appreciates those who are proud of being ignorant than the ones who try to get ahead day by day, physically and emotionally, the ones who show at least a spark of motivation, of improvement.

I have felt like a stranger in many situations since I came back. Perhaps I have become too critical, or perhaps I am just tired of putting up with so much crap for so long, and now I just don't want it. My time abroad has changed my perspective in several aspects, and I feel that the others have not evolved in the same way, which is also demotivating. In addition, my 'German Adventure' seems distant and sleepy, and I have fear because I don't want it to stay just as a reminder of the past. If there is something that still fills me, that is my family and some friends. They stayed just as I wanted, with some kind of obstinacy in a few points, but always with the ability to bring me home. Simply.

I do not want you to be confused, I'm fine. I am more observant, that's all, and the good thing is that I find it easier to get the basics of the issue to feel myself comfortable. The concept of 'home' has changed, and the point now is to find out the lost parts of the machine to make my new place home again. It is not about finding a place, but making it. I feel kind of anxious, that something is missing. I like it. That tells me, at least, that my adventure is actually not over, quite the contrary. And I can not stop looking askance at the suitcase, waiting to repack some day.