I just moved back to the United States after living and reporting from Lima, Peru. Reacclimating has been tough. I miss reporting on topics I know are important. I miss the challenge of navigating Latin America. But, most of all, I miss my old world. It’s just weird to be on U.S. soil.
People rarely ask me about Peru, but when they do it’s mostly to reference Machu Picchu and rattle off some platitude about the joys of traveling. And that’s cool. Small talk is small talk. But it kind of wears on a gal, you know?
In the future, when you meet someone who’s just moved “home” after time away, keep the following tips in mind. It’ll make their (very stressful) transition oh-so much easier.
Stop calling it a journey, an adventure, a gap year, a fellowship or a “year off.”
This isn’t some “Eat, Pray, Love” bullshit. I didn’t run away from the first world so I could gofindmyself or embracemybody or discoverthemeaningoflife.
Also, an adventure is what little kids go on after their mothers have sufficiently smothered them in sunscreen and checked the backyard for snakes. Take note.
No, my parents didn’t fork over the big bucks so I could galavant across a continent.
No, I didn’t have an institution backing my work or paying my way.
No, I didn’t take a year off, but I did work my ass off.
Stop telling me, “Oh, I could never do that.”
You definitely can’t do it. You can’t do it, but not for the reasons you’re implying. You sigh and say, “Not everybody has as much spare income as you.” “Not everyone has so much time.” “Not everyone has so few responsibilities.”
I would like to point out that I am white, and my parents are proud members of the U.S. middle class, which means I have WAY more opportunities than most people in the world. But you, naysayer, aren’t referring to that.
Stop implying that I have money to burn—I’m a freelance reporter. Stop suggesting I spent a year in the lap of luxury—see this post. Stop insinuating that I had no one to answer to—I have personal goals, financial demands, editors, family and face societal pressures just like everyone else.
Maybe you can’t do it because you’re not willing to throw yourself into the unknown without a safety net. Maybe you’re not a fan of literally chasing down sources? Maybe you want to avoid tear gas? Or, maybe international reporting just isn’t your thing. And that’s fine, but please stop with the nudges and winks already.
Stop saying, “Oh, that must have been so much fun!”
Because, most of the time, it wasn’t.
Most of the time the simple act of eating was a battle because everything that went into my mouth came out. Most of the time I was fighting people who wanted to screw me over. Most of the time I was grappling with the cultural barrier. Most of the time I was cold or sick or scared or a lovely combo of all three.
<rant>Do you know how difficult it is to pitch stories about Latin America? GOOD stories? Stories that take history into account, that don’t whitewash, that don’t gloss over culture? Do you know how much mansplaining I had to endure with editors back home? how much ignorance and apathy there was in regard to anything that wasn’t U.S.- or Europe-related?</rant>
Yes, you went to Machu Picchu. Yes, you went on a reporting trip to the Amazon. No, it is not the same thing as living and reporting in the country. That is called “parachuting in.”
So, yeah, I’d do it again in a heartbeat, but it wasn’t all rainbows and unicorns.
Do ask for travel tips
Want to go to the Galapagos on a budget? Want to report from Antarctica without going bankrupt?
I am more than happy to help with pitching tips and planning suggestions.
I am no stranger to reporting on a budget. I ate a LOT of peanut butter sandwiches. I choked down ramen. I walked everywhere. I hoarded mustard packets. I camped. I drank instant coffee (which was a heavenISreal luxury).
I’ve been there and done that, and I will do everything in my power to help you avoid international reporting pitfalls. Just ask!
Do patiently listen.
I miss Peru. While I adjust to living in the states, Peru is still home, and I’ve been away for far too long.
Sometimes I need to talk about frog milkshakes, condors riding bulls and hoofing it up a mountain at 15,500 feet.
I promise I won’t go on diatribes. I promise not to bore you. And I promise that I am not this annoying person.
But if you expect me listen, enraptured, while you talk about your job (here’s looking at you, D.C.!) then you should express some interest in my world. Or, at least, it would be much appreciated. =)
And, for the love of god, stop calling it an adventure!
5 thoughts to “Stop Calling it an Adventure”
Well you did rent a 1% type apartment in the best part of Lima and shopped at the best grocery stores and went multi – country traveling for more than a few weeks. That’s pretty luxurious!
The definition of luxury is subjective. To many people in the world with a lower socioeconomic status, you and I live like royalty. However, that misses the purpose and point of this particular article!
Great post Mollie! I’ve been reporting in the Caribbean for going on five years and I still get folks wondering when my “adventure” will end when I travel back to the states.
Ahh, yes, you understand!! Keep fighting the good fight!
What’s your Twitter handle? I’ll follow you. @mbloudoff
An inspiring and educative read, Mollie. Thanks for sharing your perspective and experiences. I can imagine and understand all the day-to-day challenges that one would face and what you’ve done bears testimony to your courage and goal to serve the greater good of humanity. I strongly believe that. I’ve covered and reported on LatAm a lot myself–mostly on the business side, though. I’ve been at it for a year now–Mexico, Brazil, Peru, Chile, Colombia—I can understand every granularity of all the challenges that would have come up with. Kudos, and welcome back home.