When you get used to bouncing from country to country, the impact of culture shock lessens with the fresh ink of each passport stamp. You get progressively more numb to the challenges and changes that you face in each country. At least this is my experience. I spent the last two years living in a fascinatingly diverse range of cities including the samba-infused beaches of Rio de Janeiro, the age-old city of Beirut, the wild ganja-lined trails of the Himalayas, and an off-the-grid desert fishing village in Madagascar, to name a few. I feel like I could adapt to living anywhere now.

The same goes for my return to California. People often ask me if it’s been difficult to return to the USA after being abroad for so long. And the truth is, it hasn’t been difficult at all. Reverse culture shock is a real thing. I’ve felt it before. But I’ve repeated this process enough times now to know exactly what to expect. There will be nostalgia, excitement, bliss, longing, daydreams, and confusion. It’s all normal and I can almost predict it before it even comes. Thus, it doesn’t hit as hard, if at all.

Of course, I do miss certain aspects of the life I led abroad: the excitement of exploring new frontiers of the world as I know it, getting bathed in the sounds and gestures of new languages, and the like-minded people who I inevitably crossed paths with while embarking on such a journey. But it’s also been stimulating and comforting to return to my homeland. I’ve been catching up with family and friends and frequenting the places where some of my fondest memories were created. There are undeniable perks to returning to the US, namely, on-demand, high-pressure hot showers whenever I please, not having to plan when I charge my devices in anticipation of power outages, and the freedom of movement that my trusty, ol’ Nissan Versa provides.

Despite being back home, I’ve adapted the nomadic lifestyle I led abroad to my current life in California. I’ve still been living out of a backpack, I spent time refamiliarizing myself with my ever-changing hometown of Santa Cruz, I roamed the bohemian streets of San Francisco, I gazed at shooting stars in the pitch-black skies of the Sierra Nevada, and I’ve enjoyed the irresistibly sunny weather of Southern California.

However, one of the biggest challenges I face upon reentry is finding a rudder for this particular path I’ve forged for myself. When abroad, you come across so many people who have found alternative routes to life. There is constant inspiration and motivation. I crossed paths with foreigners who opened surf camps in Indonesia, worked for NGOs in Africa, learned to speak Arabic in Lebanon, taught at universities in Colombia, sold surf photos on Reunion Island, and built cafes in Sri Lanka. Every day my creativity was stimulated as far as the paths I could forge.

Now that I am back in the US, it’s not that I’ve forgotten about those creative possibilities, but the environment is less encouraging. It casts more doubt. As I banged my keyboard doing writing work in trendy San Francisco coffee shops, I’d overhear my neighbors dropping buzzwords like IPO, founder, capital, and AI while discussing their six-figure salaries, retirement plans, and PTO. My peers have been buying houses, having children, and bolstering their IRAs. Meanwhile, I’ve been nomadically homeless. I haven’t put a cent in my retirement account in over two years. I’ve noticed there is an odd paradigm where I am jealous of them and their financial security, and they are jealous of me and my flexibility to travel the world. I suppose it’s human nature to yearn for what you don’t have.

Neither path is right or wrong. Everyone has their own journey. For all I know, I may someday return to the classic 8-5. That’s the beauty of life. But I chose a non-traditional path that felt authentic to me. I accept the consequences and/or rewards of that choice. Still, I can’t help but acknowledge the external pressure to conform and get ‘back on track’ now that I am in the USA. The absurdly high (and continually increasing) cost of living in coastal California is another looming, influential factor.

As I have those ‘responsible’ thoughts blaring into one of my ears, in the other ear the man who is fresh off 22 months traveling the world is putting up a fierce resistance. Even after all the traveling I’ve done, I’ve only been to 30 countries. That’s only 15% of the world. I still haven’t seen 165 countries. How could I throw in the towel now?

There’s no doubt that the global nomad life was rewarding, but it’s not lucrative (at least for me) and not necessarily practical long term. That’s the reality that I haven’t lost sight of. There is a balance to be had, as is the case for most things in life. There’s nothing wrong or stressful about it. I accept it for what it is, taking it one day at a time. I’m back home in California now, but I still dream about all the possibilities while simultaneously keeping a pragmatic eye on the future. Despite all the uncertainty, I am at peace with that. Soon enough I’ll know which direction life will yank me.