Foreigner in Your Own Land.

(Day 25: Something Someone Told You About Yourself That You'll Never Forget - Good or Bad)

Mine was more of a question.

So.. to set the stage: We were in the Philippines. Josh and I were both four years younger than we are today. We were both unemployed. Both devoid of possessions. Both halfway around the world from "home."

We had been traveling in Southeast Asia for the past three or so months. We were getting weary. We were getting tired.

This particular morning, we were on the island of Guimaras and we were in search of a waterfall. Directions were scarce and confusing and we found ourselves miles in the wrong direction. Exhausted and defeated, we caught a trike back to town. The trike was already occupied by the principal of the local school and we shared the ride with her.

As we rode, the inevitable question of my heritage came up. I explained the tried-and-true story: born in Manila, adopted at four days old, moved to the States when I was two and bunny-hopped around the U.S. all throughout childhood. She asked about our visit to my homeland and I described my desire to at least see, to explore, to feel the land where I was born. I relayed how this was my first "true" visit back. 

"So you're a foreigner in your own land?" she inquired.

And that phrase has stuck with me forever. I feel like it describes me to a T. Somehow part and not part of a place I call "home."

A foreigner in my own land.