The concept of Home

I returned home from Buenos Aires on Sunday morning after a nice 14-hour plane ride during which I watched “No Country for Old Men”, slept through some other movie which I forgot, and enjoyed my second red-eye under the influence of Simply Sleep. Which, by the way, is the best drug ever. On the drive home, I began to contemplate my week in Argentina and how impactful it was for me. It challenged my concept of home, and therefore the criteria that I use to designate such a title. Is home the place to which we gravitate, or the place from which we depart? In my young life, where does it fit? I turned down an internship offer from a place that felt the most like home to me. It felt familiar. Metaphorically, I could almost feel the grass between my toes the same as I did on the lawn at the ranch. Perhaps this was very refreshing during a time in my life where everything is so new and so difficult (financial valuation? free cash flows? economic order quantity? Mundell’s Trinity? hello?). You want a bit of Mom’s home cooking and a familiar stack of books on your nightstand as you turn out the light.
But I decided that I’d go all in. Darden is meant to challenge me in ways I never thought possible. So I enter uncharted territory at a company whose DNA appears, in the eyes of others, to differ greatly from mine. It was certainly not representative of where I came FROM, yet signifies where I am GOING. As days go by I have delightfully discovered more aspects to which I relate, and I am more and more certain that I made the right choice.
Spending a week in Buenos Aires felt like being home to me. But not familiar in a complacent way. Familiar in an exciting, new, and natural way. The way that I think home ought to feel yet has never felt before. It had a blessed combination of that which I seek (ultra-urban living, a foreign language, humidity, exciting economic/political environment, business opportunities) and that which I know (agriculture and a life ultimately derived from the earth’s bounty). I could envision myself returning from a hard day at the office by walking the 20 blocks home, kissing Svennycakes hello, sitting down with an aqua, and mulling over what WILL be; instead of what HAS been. Seems to me your environment can shape that thought process: are you looking at the past or the future?
But whether I view home as composed of the past or teeming with the future, how much of myself have I changed to mold to my surroundings and thereby shaped my vision of home? In the past I’ve carved “home” out of nearly anywhere; be it living in the Acura while racing my bike around the country; or the bungalow on Mayview Road in Raleigh that I shared with my best friend. I chipped away at the ideal vision of home because nothing I found matched. I told myself that in order to be comfortable I needed to get used to this home, no matter the composition. Whether it was familiar yet uncomfortable, or comfortable yet unfamiliar; adjustment was necessary for survival.
So here I am, contemplating home’s meaning as the next few years unfold before me, full of promise and adventure. In Buenos Aires I didn’t need to change at all. I just WAS. And it felt perfect.
And now, some images of my perfect city:

plenty of time crammed in the back of taxicabs
the horses dress differently
the locals dress pretty well
gina gives argentine cuties a "yes"
boys steal girl bikes
sunlight: so much better in the southern hemisphere