Can Tho Travel Blog

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I am homesick.  There, I said it.

It hit me full-on in the face this week.  Filth and litter everywhere, widespread poverty, one too many greasy meals, forever struggling to communicate, too many hours spent bumped and yanked and jostled in hot smelly old buses speeding down potholed dirt roads, beggars touching me, touts hassling me, being ripped off and overcharged everywhere I go, trading one bad bed for the next, forever in hideous backpacker clothes, not getting enough exercise, outrageous ATM fees, daily nutrition supplements, living out of a backpack, my family being on the other side of the planet.

And I miss the little things.  Organic 1% milk out of a cardboard carton.  Pun's vegetable garden.  Sleeping in my own bed.  Wine, cheese, and assorted accoutrements.  My Dad's humming.  Driving a car.  Or alternatively, riding in a someone's private car.  Having some sort of grip on current events, be they global, political, cultural, or the day-to-day lives of my friends.  Cereal.  Seriously.  Who misses cereal?  The NFL.  Getting rowdy before and during games, and rehashing highlights and standings in the office on Monday morning.  Farm fresh apples from upstate New York in autumn.  Knowing with certainty where I will sleep tonight.  And knowing that it will be safe, clean, quiet, and comfortable.  The most amazing vegan bacon cheeseburger you'd swear it was the real deal.  Books.  Do you have any idea how hard it is to score a good read on the road?  I mean, fuck.  Pick's obese, warm, furry belly to bury my face in.  (Pick is a cat, you sick-os.)  Unlimited internet, cell phones, texting.  A refrigerator.  Going out to dinner at a place that requires reservations, high heels, and a knowledge of wines.  Being the one handing out solid, reliable directions and recommendations to tourists, rather than the other way around.  My mom's ability to cure anything with a tequila gimlet.  Homemade anything.

Two days ago, while having my bones crunched and whip-lashed and wiping sweat and grime from my face while speeding in an old, rickety, jam-packed bus, swerving to hit as many potholes as possible while honking to the point of hearing loss, I thought about the moment when my mom pulls up to the airport, and dropping my bags and shrieking and hugging and squeezing.  I almost cried.  I wanted that moment right then and there, more than anything.
Connie says:
Aw hon, we've all been there. When you finally have that moment at the airport and a week's sleep in your own bed, you'll want to be back on the road again - I swear! :)
Posted on: Feb 03, 2010
dothoin says:
You need a hug
Posted on: Feb 01, 2010
domnicella says:
Aww, thank you Sylvia! :) I'm touched.
Posted on: Feb 01, 2010
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Can Tho
photo by: alanmica