During our morning check-in after spending the night in Phobgika we were asked to answer the following question, “If you could bring anything or anyone to this moment right now, who/what would it be?” Without any hesitation, desculpa mae (sorry mom), I wished for a plate with you guys. Standing on one of the most beautiful pieces of land, breathing the freshest air in the world, all I can do is try to remember the taste of my lunch back home.
Whenever I travel the things that always make me home sick aren’t photographs. It’s certain whiffs I get of coffee, hearing a laugh that sounds sweet like my mother’s, petting a cat whose soft hair feels like the one of mine at home. Certain senses rush memories back that transport my mind to the comfort of my home. Reminders of the things my body has become so used to that when I don’t have them it gives my chest a painful squeeze, but when I do I barely give them a thought.
This trip has not only taught me to value a new culture, but to value the small things back home. Things I only realized my connection to now that I am so far away from them that the only way to have the luxury of their comfort is through moments my senses pick up.