Whether it is the self-growth that has occurred or simply the intensity of being in a foreign country, it can be hard to return to normal relationships and daily life at home. The two Peace Corps volunteers I spoke with (both here for at least one year) expressed the importance of having a support base, and/or a friend or family member who has had a similar experience or who has come to visit and seen firsthand the lives they live in Guatemala.

For example, everyone has heard of a chicken bus. But no one can truly understand the chicken bus experience until they have spent at least one hour jammed into a row of three on each side, halfway to the back on the bus. It is this kind of experience that defines a journey to Central America. It is a dividing line between those who know and those who do not.

One of the Peace Corps volunteers has asked for a year extension for her work, not ready to go home, and the other has come to terms with the idea that this is her life. Her life is one in which the expectations she had for herself and where she thought she should be after graduating college have changed. She is not heading toward a traditional life of post-graduation house-buying and baby-having and has, slightly reluctantly, given in to her internal desires to pursue an international experience.

Regardless of paths people take, the word “should” came up in every conversation. What they thought they should be doing after college, who they thought they should be, where they thought they should be. Dan, the hostel worker from my previous post, offers an interesting point: your social environment defines and reminds you of the “should” you created for yourself. Once confronted with life outside of the “should,” an individual is able to come closer to realizing their true desires — or at least their “should nots.”

So, for now, I would like to note that those who are here living and/or traveling in Central America quickly realize the value of their time here for their personal and professional futures. They recognize that “should” is relative and life is not linear. But how do they feel about the “should” and other challenges to their self-understanding? And what do their friends at home think? More on that in a future post.

Texan Whitney Devin is currently traveling around Central America, seeking volunteer opportunities.

My friend Preston and I went to a restaurant in Nashville last week, where a decidedly bored waitress decided to liven up her evening by flirting aggressively with the both of us. At some point Preston (always the wingman) tossed me a lob. “You know,” he said to the waitress, “My friend Mark just came back from two years in Ecuador.”

“Ecuador, wow…” she said. “How was that?”

I blanked. In this particular setup, my answer was supposed to be something smarmy and sensitive: “It was heartbreaking to see children in such poverty, but rewarding, too. I know that I made a difference even if I couldn’t adopt them all.” But – sorry Preston – I just couldn’t do it. How in hell do you package two years of life into an elevator pitch or cocktail conversation piece? You don’t, obviously. But here are some tips to talking about your abroad with whoever asks about it.

Write about it first. If you can find some outlet through which to digest your experiences on a personal level, it takes some of the pressure off of those conversations. You won’t feel as much need to say something profound, witty or engaging.

Be true. People can sniff out false modesty pretty quickly and know when you’re bragging about how well traveled you are. Don’t overplay or understate your experience, just say it like it is.

Pay attention! In the first few seconds of talking about your experience, you can pick out whether somebody takes interest in what you have to say. The odds are, frankly, that they don’t. But you can pick out which parts they might be interested in. Do they teach in an elementary school? Maybe they’d be curious about how classrooms work in Uganda. Are they sports fans? Maybe they’d appreciate a (short) story about your nearly getting arrested at a soccer game in Madrid.

Practice makes perfect. I learned quickly which statements or questions really drive me up the wall. So when somebody comes at me with, “You know, those people are poor but they’re so happy, aren’t they?” I’ve got a measured response at the ready. I’m also beginning put together a mental list of lighter stories so that I have some available when people are looking for ‘fun’ rather than ‘serious.’

Good luck!

It’s a big risk, especially since I still don’t have a job lined up, and knowing how long it can take to just get adjusted and feel at home in a city, it’s going to take a lot of patience and vigilance on my part. But I’m ready for that. I leave Thursday for Argentina, and for the last two weeks or so I’ve been “on vacation” at home, keeping busy and waiting to return to South America, this time on the Atlantic side of things.

Sitting around, busy as I may have been, I’ve gone through a range of emotions. When my parents first picked me up in the airport I almost couldn’t look at them for a while. We hugged but then I looked away and went over to the baggage carousel alone to get my bags. After waiting so long I found it difficult to look at them in the flesh. It was a weird feeling. But in due time that passed, and I felt comfortable again. Yet I was anything close to normal. Normal as I knew it no longer existed, and not only had I changed, but everyone else had as well.

Taking a sip from the faucet, dropping toilet paper in the bowl–all of these formerly forbidden things that I could now do. And on the contrary, J-walking, peeing in the street–these were no longer acceptable. I’d be sizing up the situation in a bar and wondering who would try to rob me, then realize that I had no reason to feel that way. But I also couldn’t get what I wanted just by whining and pleading a bit, by showing that I speak the language. Of course I speak the language, and there’s no haggling. It takes a lot to adjust back to your home after being in a different culture for so long. Especially when keeping in mind that you want to remember the lessons learned and stay prepared for the return trip coming up.

At times sudden depression came on with no warning. In the supermarket, looking at all of the products available and their prices, my glum face saying it all. A man arguing in line, a driver speeding by to pass me on the road, the waste and excess of food. Other times I felt ecstatic to be home. With the windows down and the wind hitting my left arm and face, music playing loudly, I saw how the town had changed and remained the same. Visiting old friends, some in new places and apartments, catching up and sharing some laughs. But in the back of my head, when it got silent, there was always the reminder that they were staying and I was leaving again. It was only temporary.

After a weekend of fun in Boston, I caught myself thinking how I really wish I was sticking around to live here, get a job like everyone else, and make some money for once. Live the good life. But I know something else. It’s a feeling that you lose touch with once you’ve left a country you’re not from, but you always have while you’re there. The feeling of adventure, of experiencing something great and amazing that most people will never be able to. You know that you’re special in some way, and whether you’re teaching children the ABC’s or washing dishes in a hotel restaurant, you’re living a different life from your friends back home. You’re untouchable in a way. That thought has helped me get through the tougher points during this little vacation. I’m almost back to my second home, and I’m ready for it again.