Coming full circle

The rumble of the furnace - a sound not heard (and not missed!) in more than four weeks: a sure sign that our journey has come to an end. There are other signs, too: thin snowflakes drifting across the light cones of passing cars, solar lights spreading a mysterious glow under their cover of snow, the need for boots and snow suits instead of sandals and shorts, day turning to night by four-thirty instead of nine, making up for it by starting three hours later as well. 

Has it really only been two days since we sat on a bench in the Parque Forestal, one of Santiago's many beautiful green spaces, eating baguette and cheese bought in the mercado central, supplemented by olives from a stall at La Serena's market hall? Two days since the yellow-breasted cousins of our robins were singing in the yacaranda trees? Three days since the mayhem we encountered when we emerged from the subway station closest to our hostel, having great difficulty to find a place to cross the road lined with thousands of excited grandparents, parents and kids watching what I assume was Santiago's version of a Santa Claus parade? 
 

The haze lifted for a last view of the Andes just before we boarded the plane

Here I am back at my desk, trying to find my footing after four weeks of intense experience, a huge wealth of impressions and encounters, as every time having a bit of trouble to make the switch from the constant attention needed for nomad life to the familiar. Once again my body knows its surroundings by heart: with my eyes closed I can find my way through the house, know, without having to count, how many steps it takes to traverse any given space, the meaning of each sound. What a huge leap it is, every time anew, to emerge from a world so different from where I live. What a privilege to be able to experience it, to be exposed to the language and music, customs and tastes of these countries where we are constantly reminded of how good we have it - and yet forget that we do.

Each time I return the most important lesson I take home is that in spite of all that is different we are not so very different after all: babies toddle and cry no different in Bolivia than they do here, the same wisdom speaks from the eyes of an old woman in Argentina as it does in Canada or Germany. What seems to be more abundant in South America is the desire to spend time with each other, to sit in groups and talk, to have time to be idle together, without purpose - and to show affection openly, be it to a lover, a child, a friend, a grandparent or even a relative stranger. Maybe living in a place where there is no need to shut doors against the cold, where one can sit on the front step until late at night makes it easier. 

Meanwhile I am back, a bit dazed still, but happy to be home with my own family, to enjoy children and grandchildren.Once again my 'musings' will come 'from the farm' - by far not as prolifically as they were while we travelled, I'm afraid (http://susanne-musingsfromthefarm.blogspot.ca/ )... until next time, if all goes well.