No one tells you that for some of us, the hardest part of traveling is coming home. After nine months of not being able to drink tap water, and carrying toilet paper in my purse because “you-just-never-know,” I was ready to come home to Canada, my family, Tim Hortons, and a shower I knew would have hot water.
So why as the plane began its descent into Toronto was I feeling not only reluctance, but fear? I suddenly wanted to pull a one-eighty and go back to the humidity, mosquitoes, and intriguing unknown of Southeast Asia. I didn’t want to face the cold weather, certainly, but I also did not want to have to face the question, “So, how was your trip?”