I’m not going to lie. As much as I love doing both, traveling and transitioning don’t necessarily get easier with age and experience.

I have been back in America for almost a year now, and while there are many things that I appreciate- like the boundless reserves of opportunity at my disposal- I am still having a hard time finding my footing back in familiar zip codes.

A friend once shared with me a quote from her vast reading collection, one that often bubbles up to my consciousness when I find myself in a place of perceived misdirection. To me, it perfectly captures the intangible malaise that one can contract after spending so much time straddling different borders:

“The man who finds his homeland sweet is still a tender beginner; he to whom every soil is as his native one is already strong; but he is perfect to whom the entire world is as a foreign land.” (Hugh of St. Victor)

While I wouldn’t call it perfection, going beyond your own boundaries does somehow cultivate a feeling that simultaneously exhilarates and makes you wonder if you’ll ever truly be at peace with how you’ve elected to configure your adult brain. It’s a complex road you’ve chosen, and the pitfalls are not always easy to anticipate or surmount- but then again the draw to going about life in this manner lies in the challenge of trying to figure it all out.

 

I’m riding on the yellow line right now, and we just passed over the Potomac and Hains Point before going back underground towards L’Enfant Plaza. I’ve only been to Hains Point once in my life, and if you know anything about the area, then you could probably guess that this was during the Marine Corps Marathon. During this section of the race, I remember feeling the same sense of misplacement that I mentioned above. I was running all alone- my friends had either gone ahead or dropped back, and even surrounding competitors were surprisingly scarce. It was a trying stretch where both my morale and pace dropped noticeably, and both would stay depressed until I came up for air at the 14^th Street Bridge.  That was where I had someone standing by to run the remainder of the race with me. Although still quite tired, having someone at my side helped to cancel out the negativity of Hains point as I picked my pace back up and pushed through to the finish.

 

Why does any of that matter? And what does it have to do with travel and transition? I think it has to do with the unscheduled periods of happiness and sadness that we stumble across- motions that we all go through on a daily basis. I’d love to tell you that everything in my life is like a hilarious reality TV show (and truthfully, the hilarity usually is there- it just takes some healthy hindsight), but sometimes it feels like I see more than my fair share of What The Hell Is Going On With My Life?  Those feelings of misplacement are frustrating.

I left work today with tears in my eyes over bittersweet recollections of things past. For lack of a better term, I was having a Self-Centered Day. Me and my fantastic First World Problems.  Then I walked through the front door of my building and experienced another transformation that I did not expect.

The concierge on duty today is an older Senegalese gentleman. I love the fact that I have him in my building because it gives me a tie to one of those foreign lands that Hugh of Saint Victor alluded to up at the start of this long-winded entry. While I love Senegal and the Senegalese people, there are definitely some days where my energy level is no match for indefatigable West African joviality. I’d rather cruise up to my apartment in silent anonymity. Today would not be such a day, even though I kind of wanted it to be.

As the case usually is, he and I often have an exchange that trades perspectives of our respective countries. We did a bit of that before I went upstairs to change and leave again.

Fast-forward an hour, and I am still conducting morale warfare on myself as I oscillate between contentedness and self-defeating sentiments of nostalgia. I’m about to head out the door when I remember that right now I just so happen to possess a supply of peanuts en direct du Senegal. I grab a plastic bag and dump a bunch inside before stuffing them in my purse and heading for the elevator.

Back down at the front desk, my concierge has a line of folks in front of him. I stand patiently and wait until he has a pause in the action before I reach into my bag and produce my modest offering.

For those of you who are uninitiated, Senegalese peanuts are special. They are delicious and the perfect snack to be consumed with formaldehyde-laced Flag beer or any other beverage consumed on a West African beach at sunset. Or in this case, they provide un bon souvenir of exactly that memory when you feel lost in the concrete jungle of Northern Virginia.

As soon as I handed him the bag, the old man’s face lit up like a Christmas tree. He exclaimed incomprehensible phrases of Wolof as I smiled back and answered him in French. I knew that by giving him this small bag that it would probably brighten his day. What I didn’t anticipate was the effect that it would have on me.

“Jërëjëf!” he called out to me as I quickly made for the door. (Wolof for thank you)

“Nooko bokk.” I answered back as I pushed open the glass door and crossed the parking lot towards the metro.

“You’re welcome” in Wolof literally translates as, “the pleasure is shared”- and I thought about the significance of this response as I was walking away. All of a sudden I felt amazing. My heart was wide open. Exhilarated. And for the second time that day, I had tears in my eyes. Another moment of interaction and transformation, but this time it was a completely welcome wave of emotion.

 

Running out on Hains Point is kind of tough. There’s a stiff wind and it is easy to doubt yourself if you’re alone. Words somehow creep in like the reminders of times where you didn’t measure up to the standards of others or yourself- and it’s not until you get yourself spliced back in with the population that this mindset can be shaken. You need a friend on the 14^th Street Bridge. Or a supply of peanuts that can connect you to people in places where you’ve been but somehow now feel disengaged.

So I’m still transitioning. My personality is such that I tend to draw inward before reaching out to those around me, and I know that’s a hard habit to break. Knowing my own routines rather well, I realize that life will continue to have its ups and downs no matter where I go. Maybe life is just one big transition that should be relished. I think I’m okay with this concept, but that’s only because I think that everyone else goes through this garbage thought cycle too. It’s just not something that we like to talk about in public. Instead we put on the smiley super performer face and then tackle our fears as an undercurrent that is camouflaged by anecdotes of running races and exotic travel foods.

I think it’s fabulous that life will continue to be a challenge, but for me I’m always better equipped to function when I surround myself with people rather than thoughts that sit and throw darts around my brain. Real live people are never far away either- no matter where I go, no matter how hard the transition. It’s just a matter of putting myself out there, intermingling and ensuring that I give a little bit of myself first.

 

I promise my next post will be funnier. And far shorter. If you made it to the end, then I will be sure to share some peanuts with you.