Back at home for a spell...

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Back at home for a spell...

It was a bit strange being back home...
I was expecting that, in a way, although I wasn't sure how it was going to pan out...
My time overseas had inevitably had an effect on me, and it was time to figure out what to do next...

I arrived in Mexico City at the end of October 1981, and I was back home, in the house where I grew up, living with Mum and Dad...

I was the last of us six kids still living at home...

I wasn't entirely comfortable about the fact that I’d be living under my parent's roof again, however, I was extremely grateful that I could still do so...

I guess my parents were happy to have me safe and sound back at home, but I am sure they were wondering what my next move would be, as I was not going to continue with my studies...

They didn't put any pressure on me and gave me time to find my own feet...

Not much had changed back home while I was away...
Nothing had changed in our house… My old bedroom was just as I had left it…
I remember walking up the stairs and into my bedroom, carrying my overly used backpack and my worn-out leather carryon bag, still full of cassettes…

I looked around my room and somehow it looked smaller than I thought it was…
The permanent concrete bunkbeds were still there… now unused, as my brother Mario had just moved out…he used to sleep on the top one…he was the last one to leave before I did…
They were not being used now, but mum kept them neatly covered with a blanket…

There was a single bed to the left of the bunkbeds…my bed…
My mum had just made it up for me with clean sheets and all that…she was so sweet…

My clothes and shoes were neatly kept in the closet, where they had always been…
There was an old desk and a drafting table, which my brother Pepe used quite a lot throughout his architecture studies…

This was ‘my turf’ where my travelling dreams were born…

The walls were covered with posters of the places I would someday visit…The Eiffel tower, Mt Fuji, with a bullet train in the forefront, Ayers Rock, in Australia, The Opera house, in Sydney, and some others… (I’ve eventually been to all of them and a few more)
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I’m not quite clear on what took place that day, but I’m sure my mum had a special meal prepared for me, no big ‘welcome home’ celebration, just a nice family meal at the kitchen table, and I loved that…

I felt welcome and safe at home, and was ready to face the road ahead…

My friends and neighbours hadn't changed, my family hadn't changed much either, it seemed like those 10 months had only transcended through me and my life...I had changed...but to most of them, "I had been on a long holiday"...

They asked me questions like, "How was your trip?" The way you may ask someone... “How was your vacation?”
People don't necessarily want to know all the ins and outs about your struggles and dilemmas and your new views on life...they simply want to hear things like...
It was great! It was amazing!

When I caught up with some of my friends, they'd ask me... “What country did you like the most?” Or other easy questions like that...
I'd normally answer, with a shrug of the shoulders... don't know, maybe Israel...to which they'd say...
 “Really? Wow! it must've been amazing"... and they'd quickly move on to other topics or to the local goss like ... “Did you hear that so and so are getting married?”

And immediately we were back in their world...where things had some order and things were what they were used to...

I personally had no idea how to talk to them about my adventure, as I was afraid they wouldn't relate...and it is probably just now, while writing my blogs, that I get to express my sentiments and my adventures a bit deeper...

I somehow felt, in the beginning, a bit out of place, just like when you find yourself at a party surrounded by people you don't know, who are totally different to you, and you are just standing there watching them dance and drink and talk and go on about their party...and you ask yourself…What am I doing here?...

I was absolutely sure at that moment that my stay in my hometown and country would be temporary and that I needed to find a way to generate an income to take off again as soon as possible, however, at the same time I knew that I needed to fit in while I was back home and make the most of it.
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I reconnected back with all my friends, and restarted my social life, as If had only been away on a short vacation, which made the whole thing seem normal for me and for all my social world back home...

I needed to find my own feet and get myself a place to live independently...
In order to do so, I needed a job, and I needed some money as soon as possible... I was broke, and I also needed a good haircut. So, to begin with, I went to the local barber around the corner from our house to finally get a haircut ... My dad must have paid for it ...

I started looking at the different possibilities for me to get a "real job" and there weren't many available, I simply didn’t have the skills or the studies to apply for many…or any…

Then after a few days, I'm not sure how it came about the idea that I could teach English as a second language... I might've read an advert in the paper or on the Metro or somewhere...

There was a language school advertising for English teachers, and I thought I could have a shot at it...
That school was called “Interlingua”, I'd heard of them and probably had seen their adverts before but had no idea how it operated and what sort of qualifications I'd be required to have...

The advert said they'd be providing full training, I just needed to be a fluent English speaker and needed to know some English grammar.

That sounds like me! I thought…

Prior to heading out to Europe, I had studied English as a second language, in a similar type of ‘Language school’, it was called “Centro de Idiomas Benjamin Franklin”.
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I had taken all their available courses, so when I completed them all I thought my English was quite good until... I was faced with the challenge of speaking the language every day with English people or anyone else from any other country who spoke English...Then I found out that my English wasn't that great at all.

However, my spoken English improved quite a bit while I was living in my Kibbutz in Israel, where everyone spoke English and I had to get good at understanding all kinds of different accents, Dutch, Swedish, Scottish, German, Israeli, Australian and some others…

My vocabulary had also improved as I started reading books in English and my ability to engage in conversations of all sorts also got much better as time went by… Heck, I had even started dreaming in English! …

Anyway, I figured that I could apply for that job and possibly get it... (More on that in my next story)
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A new adventure was about to begin as I was about to settle down in Mexico City, my hometown, for a spell...