Driven by a quest for deeper fulfillment, Russell resigns from his job and embarks on a solo backpacking journey from the American South to the heart of South America, hoping to transcend conventional boundaries. The initial thrill of his adventure soon gives way to unexpected challenges and self-doubt as he faces a whirlwind of awe-inspiring landscapes and harsh realities. Confronted with cultural misunderstandings, personal insecurities, and even prejudice, Russell struggles to reconcile his dreams with the complexities of his new environment. Through moments of discomfort and revelation he learns valuable lessons about community, gratitude, and self-discovery, ultimately redefining his sense of purpose and appreciation for the journey he once eagerly anticipated
Driven by a quest for deeper fulfillment, Russell resigns from his job and embarks on a solo backpacking journey from the American South to the heart of South America, hoping to transcend conventional boundaries. The initial thrill of his adventure soon gives way to unexpected challenges and self-doubt as he faces a whirlwind of awe-inspiring landscapes and harsh realities. Confronted with cultural misunderstandings, personal insecurities, and even prejudice, Russell struggles to reconcile his dreams with the complexities of his new environment. Through moments of discomfort and revelation he learns valuable lessons about community, gratitude, and self-discovery, ultimately redefining his sense of purpose and appreciation for the journey he once eagerly anticipated
I sat there in my tattered shoes, with the soles pulling away from the cloth. My unmanaged hair had grown down the sides of my face, across my cheeks, and around and under my chin. My mustache had grown so much that hair fell over my lips. My hair was tangled and matted, having not been properly washed in what seemed like forever. Colorful bracelets with unique patterns from different countries covered both of my wrists. And anyone who knew me could recognize the weight loss simply by looking at my face.Â
In each country I visited, I stitched the country’s flag across the top part of my book bag, like a badge of honor. I had the Wi-Fi networks of all the airports and bus terminals I had visited still saved on my phone, like old contact numbers. In six months, I had traveled to seven countries and over thirty cities. Though I could not reach Brazil, I believed I had received everything I wanted out of the journey, something I could be proud of.Â
Over the past few days, I had experienced mixed emotions about returning home, confused about how to feel. I experienced moments of feeling excited about going home, and others feeling hurt that a beautiful experience would have to end. But the longer I thought about it, the more grateful I became. I now sat in a terminal surrounded by other travelers preparing to embark on their journey. And there were things I could look forward to once I got home. Outside of being with family and friends, I would have a story to tell and share with others.
With home getting even closer, I boarded my plane to New York for a transit stop. I had never been to “The Big Apple” before and from the air, the city looked smaller than what I saw on TV. When I walked off the plane and saw the words “John F. Kennedy Airport” in English, I felt like Dorothy waking up at the end of The Wizard of Oz. “New York,” “Welcome,” and “Arrival” were words I did not have to think about when I read them. My brain took in words like water to a thirsty mouth, wanting to keep them a secret all to myself and to hold on to them like treasure. White people, Black people, Hispanic people, and Asian people wandered everywhere. I felt more of a culture shock now than when I had left six months before.Â
In the blink of an eye, everything had reset itself back to normal. No longer did I have to get my passport stamped. No longer did I have to check in with immigration. No longer did I have to exchange money. No longer did I have to worry about which direction I needed to go. From those profound words I now treasured, I knew where I was going. I was back home.Â
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How in the hell do you tell your job you are quitting because you want to travel through South America? That question lingered in the back of my mind as I tried to enjoy Christmas at the beach with my family. As soon as Christmas break ended, I knew I would have to inform them, and my ninety-year-old great-grandmother gave me the courage to commit to my plan. We had finally convinced her to join us, after being reluctant at first to travel away from home.
There on the beach, I learned that my great-grandmother had never seen the ocean. The thought of her having never been to the beach astonished me, especially with her being raised in a town only a couple of hours away. Someone who had so much wisdom and knowledge was experiencing something new for the first time, something as common as the beach.Â
I thought about the era she lived in, which could have made something as simple as going to the beach difficult. Maybe the opportunities were not there. Maybe the situation caused a hindrance for something so minute, yet so important.Â
My great-grandmother sat before the body of water, a smile spreading across her face like a mother watching her child unwrap presents. “A lot of water,” she said in amusement, never taking her eyes off the blue spectacle.Â
Upon hearing my great-grandmother’s words, I knew the travel life was a life I needed to take advantage of because I might never receive another chance to. I wanted to take that leap because my family did not have an opportunity to do it. I wanted to do what felt good to me. And it was probably best to do it while it felt right instead of missing out on whatever was leading me in this direction. But first, I needed to turn in my resignation.Â
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After multiple attempts at creating some explanation for my departure, I came up with nothing. I could not say I had found another job because I would have had to go into details about a job I did not have. Then I thought about saying I was making a career change, which, technically, was true. But it would not have made sense for me to quit if I did not have something else waiting for me. All the detours I tried to take, hoping to avoid embarrassment and judgment, led me back to one path: honesty.Â
The following Monday after my Christmas break, I drove to work, walked to my cubicle, turned on my computer, and typed up my resignation letter.Â
Greetings Mr. Todd, I just wanted to inform you that I am resigning from my position as Computer Programmer II for SCDC effective two weeks from this date. I am so thankful that you and Mr. Joey gave me an opportunity to work here in RIM. Being that this was my first job working in the programming field, it was certainly a blessing to gain some experience and to understand what it is like to work in a programming environment, and for that, I am forever grateful. I wish you and the department all the best.Â
Sincerely,Â
Russell Earle Jr.Â
I sat reading the letter over and over, making sure I said everything I wanted, how I wanted, with no mistakes. It’s funny to think that just a few lines of words can change the course of your life.Â
Most of the department took the rest of the week off for New Year’s Day. Ms. Angie decided to stick around, and there were never any dull moments with her. She was a chatty lady whom you could hear laughing from just about anywhere in the building. The office usually joked about her being talkative and never at her desk when needed.Â
Before I printed copies of my resignation, I eased around the corner of her cubicle and told her about my plans. Her monotone responses led me to believe she did not pay me any attention, but then her excitement grew with the more questions she asked. After hearing about my plans to visit countries like Colombia and Peru, Ms. Angie humorously poked out her bottom lip, wishing she could join me.Â
We laughed for a moment, and I strolled back over to my cubicle to print my resignation letter. After printing my copies, I typed an email to send to my supervisor, his boss, and the director.Â
The thought of sending the email scared me and excited me at the same time, knowing that once I pressed the send button, there was absolutely no way I could take it back. I also knew pressing that button would give me confirmation that this trip was going to happen. How could I not go after sending my resignation? With a single stroke of my finger, I would receive the one push I needed to take control of my life, even if only for a few months.Â
Before I knew it, I took one deep breath and hit send. A small “Message Sent” notification faded off my screen as smoothly as it had appeared. I sat waiting for balloons and confetti to fall from the sky, or maybe a nurse to enter the door to offer me a cherry popsicle for not crying after the painless prick of resigning. But nothing happened. Just the soft and subtle taps of Ms. Angie typing away on her keyboard.Â
I did not feel any different from before, just relieved that I had finally done it. Though unsure of what I wanted to happen, I expected something.Â
Anything.Â
This stillness continued for a while until Ms. Angie broke the silence.
“Russell say he ’bout to go to South America. I don’t blame you, Russell. I wish I woulda done that when I was younger. It’s good that you doing that while you’re young because before you know it, you can be stuck doing work.”Â
When Ms. Angie spoke those words, I felt terrible because I was sure others felt the same. However, her saying those words reassured me I had done the right thing. Maybe my decision would be worth it in the end.Â
–
As we entered the following week, and the year 2015, news of my departure spread throughout the department like fumes seeping out of a broken pipe. Before I knew it, I began receiving more traffic around my area, along with more questions.Â
“Really, you’re leaving?”Â
“Oh, that’s awesome, dude.”Â
“What are you going to do when you get back?”Â
“So how would you like to work on the web application development team when you get back?”Â
Though it sounded like a good deal, I knew coming back would feel like starting back at square one. I desired a different path.Â
At first, I was uncertain of my supervisor’s reaction, as he only asked me, “Are you sure?” I thought I had no more worries until my director called me into his office unexpectedly.Â
Feeling like a student called into the principal’s office, I sat in front of a large desk organized with stacked papers, my eyes wandering around the mahogany-furnished room. The director held an olive-colored folder in his hand, which I assumed contained my information, as he asked the same question I had heard before. “Why?” And just like everyone else, I told him the truth.
“Well, sir, I just wanted to take this time to travel a bit. And to be honest, I don’t have any set date on when I’ll be back.”
“We would sure hate to see you leave,” he began. “I’ve gotten nothing but good feedback from management and your coworkers about how much of a pleasure it is to work with you.”Â
“Oh, yes, sir, I understand. It’s been a pleasure to work with everyone, really. They’ve all been helpful. This is my first job in the computer science field, so I really appreciate the opportunity.” Â
Something that once seemed like a monstrous hurdle to overcome turned out to be not that scary of a leap after all. My director only wanted to make sure that no issues within the department were causing my sudden resignation. He even offered his support if I needed anything in the future.Â
And before long, my days remaining in the States dwindled to two weeks. Two weeks dedicated to spending time with family and friends.
–
To prepare for my departure, I spent months surfing the web for information about the places I intended to visit and the people who lived there. I reached out to the Couchsurfing community and learned the ins and outs of being a couch surfer, mapped out a route of locations I wanted to visit, and took an eight-week Spanish course, where the instructor even gave me advice.Â
“Oh . . . you mean backpacking?” the instructor said after hearing about my travel plans. “That’s something that my husband and I always wanted to do as well.”Â
I had never heard the term “backpacking” before then. It excited me that finally there was a word for what I was doing.Â
“Yeah, I’m nervous, but I’m pretty excited for it. Do you have any recommendations on what’s the best way to get around or places I should visit?”
Before I could even finish my sentence, the instructor ripped out a piece of notebook paper and started writing suggestions and places to visit. She scribbled down places like Buenos Aires, Salta, and Iguazu Falls and attractions like El Tren a las Nubes (Train to the Clouds) and Cerro de Los Siete Colores (The Seven Colors). She also jotted down her email address.
“Let me know the places you’re trying to go; I may have family and friends in those places that will give you a place to stay while you’re in the area,” she explained.
Though I did not plan on traveling to Argentina, I could not help but feel joy and comfort knowing that someone would be willing to help me on my journey. I had questions about my safety and limited expectations. But this kind gesture from my Spanish teacher assured me I would be fine. All these new people I encountered, all reaching out to assist, were like gentle hands intertwining and knitting the fabric of my trip as it began taking shape right before my eyes.
And once my two weeks were up, I walked out of my job knowing that the only thing standing between me and South America was a one-way ticket—my ticket to a new world.
Penned by South Caroline State University graduate, now Computer Scientist, Russell J. Earle Jr., Until I Came Home: A Sunset's Journal is a memoir made for any reader looking for their next 300 page adventure hit.
The memoir makes the clever approach of starting at the end, with the author reflecting on his tatty shoes, overgrown hair and the flags snitched onto the top part of his book bag as the proud mementos of all the countries he has visited in South America. Almost battle weary, he is ready to return to his home in North America. For the readers it then becomes all the more interesting to see how the narrator has got to such a position. From this scene the book snaps straight back into the past, where Earle is spending his evenings researching ways to tell his boss he is quitting his job to travel around the southern continent.
Following this interesting hook of an opener, Until I Came Home takes readers through the journeys and experiences Earle has while making his way through a multitude of different cultures including Venezuela, Columbia and Peru. Dealing with the expected language barrier is just the start of his challenges! Readers can expect to see, live and feel a multitude of different locations and characters, including the highs and lows. All this, and in such vivid detail as if they were walking alongside the author every step of the way.
It is very hard to find fault with this book, the writing quality and pacing for a travel memoir of its type is executed very well, by an author with all the skills and background in creative writing. The fact that Earle is not afraid to shy away from conveying the challenges he faced (such as breaking news to his family of his desire to travel and conversely his relief to be returning home at the end of the experience), it all adds up to show the measure and breadth of the author himself. A complex character that grows, changes and adapts to the real-world situations he is placed in. The cover is absolutely gorgeous and sets the tone perfectly for what is to follow.
A must for anyone planning to following in the author's footsteps and explore South America by backpack, Until I Came Home is a great piece of travel writing and one that makes for a thoroughly enjoyable read, cover to cover. Five stars, simple as.
AEB Reviews