The Wanderlove Chronicles: Killing four birds with one cake.

Today is the Fourth of July.

For the last several years, this has been an emotionally complicated day for me. I’ve celebrated it in a number of places; I believe this will be my second one spent abroad. The first I spent in Guatemala. I remember it being a trying day. Considering that trip as a whole, this could have been for any number of reasons. Primarily, I’d attribute it to the fact that I had only recently sorted out my feelings towards my country as a whole and was still entertaining the idea that the best way to travel was to attempt to distance myself as much as possible from my native land by shunning all things remotely reminiscent of my life in the US. Thankfully, I’ve reached a healthy equilibrium on the latter point, and curious parties can investigate the former in this short essay I wrote three and a half years ago. Reading it today, beyond my indecisive capitalization, I’d still summarize my thoughts this way. High five, 19 year-old self.

Having put some distance and a good many thoughts between myself and that first Independence Day abroad, I find myself preferring to celebrate this day away from home. While it’s disappointing to miss out on making s’mores with Amy using star-shaped marshmallows roasted over the burners on our gas stove, the day feels more monumental, more meaningful within the borders of another nation. Spending too much time in the United States desensitizes me to the freedoms I enjoy as a citizen; I appreciate them more when they’re juxtaposed with a markedly different experience. Even within the lingering distrust I harbor towards our government, I find myself able to recognize important ways our leaders maintain my confidence in ways I take for granted because I’d never know the difference if I never lived anywhere else. I approach this day with more reverence; I think I’d be missing out on an important side effect of my travels if I didn’t.

So the suggestion of an “America Day” celebration in my Indian office doesn’t make me cringe as it may have in years past. Instead it results in the purchase of a kilo of lychees from the fruit vendor outside my house to bring to the party. In my mind, this was roughly equivalent to bringing a fruit plate. I’m open to criticism on this one.

Since Canada Day, an office-mate’s birthday, and another office-mate’s hiring anniversary were all on Monday, we turned today’s festivities into a combined America-Day-Canada-Day-birthday-anniversary party. We got a cake and a quiche and all wore varying quantities of red, white, and blue. When I showed up this morning, there were tiny US and Canadian flags lying on a desk from which I was instructed to select one to declare my allegiance.