The Art of Going Back Home

Surreal.
My trip to home has always been like that.
Surreal.
Like in the movies when someone stands still in a crowded place and everyone else is moving, walking so fast like they are all in fast-forward mode.
It's like that. Like I'm watching everything in lightning speed and all of a sudden, it's time for me to go back here.
I promised to visit a friend's grave but failed to do so. I didn't even got the chance to meet Scal.
Sorry, Bro, you'll be on my top list next time. Promise. Scout's honor.
I learned a few things when I got back this time.
One is to tell my mom not to cook. Not to be unappreciative, but there's only such room in my tummy. And I have to tell her BEFORE I even landed... because by then, it'll be too late.
Two, never try to pay attention to the traffic. And Never make sense out of it. Just close your eyes and hope we'll be there in one piece.
Three, the ladies don't wait in line. Not when waiting for a fitting room, not in the ladies room, not when paying in a department store... nowhere. It's a constant battle.
Four, roaches are everywhere. And I mean everywhere. They visit all kind of places, including your own room through the slit between your door and the floor. Bring weapon to kill everywhere you go. I had my dad's big sandal around the house. It worked. I got the job done 90% of the time. Not bad.
Five, The street food. They're really really good. But never watch how the seller prepare it. With bare hands.
Six, Spend time with the nephews, even though that means playing board games (Jumanji & Monopoly) for hours. Spend time with your brother and sister, even though it means visiting her house in a far far away land, and eating porridge in strange places with your brother, just to see how happy they are that you're around.
Seven, Hug them a lot. You don't get to do that after you're back here, sitting in front of your laptop, writing about all this, even though deep down your heart is wrenching and you question your every decision to be so far apart from them. My brother said, everyone has their own fate, and it's my fate to have a better life elsewhere.
I'm just thinking what is a better life anyway if I only get to see the people that matter most to me once every two years, in a three weeks period maximum?

The question remains... yet to be answered.