“No one realizes how beautiful it is to travel until he comes home and rests his head on his old, familiar pillow.” – Lin Yutang

I’ve always thought that the best stories have unexpected endings.

And this story is no exception.

A mixture of homesickness and an itch to surprise a few people brought me back to the US about ten days earlier than planned, and I couldn’t be happier sitting at my kitchen table typing this last blog entry listening to my brother David’s ridiculous questions (aka: “Theresa, so what do you know about….you know…stuff?”) while he chows down on his American pizza next to me. 

I have to be honest…I don’t really know how to close the door on the three month experience I just had on my own.  The ending would have come abruptly even if I were still sitting in my little blue room in Los Santos until next Monday.  I’ve never really been that good at goodbyes so it might take me a few months to do it. 

So I thought about maybe reflecting on what I learned while I was there. I mean, I did live in a purely Spanish-speaking world on my own in small town about 2200 miles away from my house in bustling Overland Park, Kansas.  I’m bound to have learned something. But I think that might take even longer to figure out than it will take me to say goodbye. 

Don’t get me wrong - I’m so thankful for everything I’ve had, everything I’ve experienced, and everything I’ve learned (that I WILL eventually discover).  But even the most exotic beaches, satisfying Spanish conversations and important successes seem nothing right now compared to being close to the people I love. 

A famous Kansan once said: “There's no place like home.” I’ll never forget what I’ve lived these past 89 days, but I have no doubt where I belong. So for my final adiós, I’ll leave you with a few photos I snapped just before flying back onto American soil…

So long taxi drivers that always hung out in the middle of the street...thanks for always being friendly and excited to drive around a gringa

I never really knew her name, but this woman was always at the gym every morning to greet me with a friendly "Hola Teresita!"....interesting sidenote - she has no left hand (didn't figure that out until mid-July), cares for her sick and bedridden husband alone and still manages to be one of the happiest people I've met.

You have no idea how sorry I felt for this guy sometimes. Every morning there would be a loud "WILLIAM - VAMOS. ARRIBA. LET'S GO" from the trainers and poor, sweaty and tired William (his real name was Ulyses... so obviously William is the logical nickname) would be forced to get up and bench press another never-ending set.

My favorite Mini-Super. Like I (hopefully) mentioned before, these things were EVERYWHERE and run strictly by Chinese people.  I liked to give this one my business even though it was a little farther from casa because the people were nicer. Pays to smile and say thank you, doesn't it?

Pedro...my "fellow Kansan." He mentioned several times how he's planning on coming back to his favorite state, so maybe this wasn't an official goodbye after all.

I will never figure out why the signs said "Una Vía" but ALL of the Panamanian people still said "One Way" in English...

More of the morning gym crew + the trainer Jorge

The kitchen I woke up to every morning. I will miss its quaintness but not the nasty little bugs crawling all over. I'll get my protein somewhere else.

The park that sat right in front of USMA. I spent many an afternoon there waiting for classes to start and "echando cuento" with classmates.

I finally got a picture of the inside of the gym. It's not much to look at, but if you think that it's not possible to get an insane workout, think again.

Hiding behind those trees is the University. It had its own little charm, but I'm itching to get back to the beautiful St. Louis campus I know.

The face of Panamanian public transportation. Wasn't hard to say goodbye to those hot, crowded, sweaty little buses.

The Mini-Super closest to our house...and that happens to be Vanessa's car rolling in front of me.

A flag representing a country rich in history and culture. Red, white and blue are three colors I've never appreciated more.

I once read an interesting quote in book written by an American man living in England: "In a funny way nothing makes you feel more like a native of your own country than to live where nearly everyone is not."

That's exactly how I've felt.

So coming home was no culture shock...nothing had changed, things weren't all of a sudden strange and new to me.  The only thing that is different is the way I see everything now. And it's much much more beautiful.