Time Travel and the Loved Ones Diaspora

Time Travel and the Loved Ones Diaspora

long distance phone card

Hey there, Urban Housewives! Today we’ve got a guest post by Lizzie from over at Lizzie Goes. She’s opening up about how the last few years have changed the way we keep in touch with those we meet while traveling the world.

What a difference a few years make.

In 2008, I studied abroad at la Universidad de la Habana, Cuba, and the experience irrevocably changed my life. I turned 21 there, learned my second language there, found the house that my father was born in there. It likely goes without saying that the friendships I made while in Cuba have been some of the most impacting of my life. It likely goes without saying, indeed, but I say it nonetheless: those people have meant more than I can say.

But being unable to say something doesn’t mean you don’t try, and I have, countless times, over the last five years now. I have invested innumerable hours, efforts and dollars into keeping in touch with these friends. That’s a more-than-marginally tougher challenge than you might think, given that thousands of miles, financial roadblocks and a political embargo separate us. And as much effort as it took to overcome those obstacles on my end, it was immeasurably harder on theirs, I assure you.

When I first came back to the United States in 2008, a long distance phone card was the only way I had to keep in touch, as so many of my friends in Cuba didn’t have personal computers in their homes, let alone regular access to internet. The quality of the calls back then was terrible – I’d guess a 50% drop rate, a six second delay and the price of the cards was a lot more than my college waitress salary could afford on top of rent and tuition.

Let me tell you from experience that love comes in many forms and can take many shapes, but even love is hard to squeeze into a 90 second phone conversation that’s comprised mainly of false starts and unabated frustrations.

Time has gone by, and I’ve had to let the tide that crashes upon the Malecon of my memory retreat through an ever-diminishing swell window. Those ripples now barely break the surface. Watching their fervor dissipate into a calmer sea whose waves barely lap upon my daily consciousness has brought no little pain to passage of these last few years. I have made new homes, new friendships, new hurts, and my friends from Havana have been a part of none of them.

At least not tangibly. In the last couple of years, social media and its overreaching claws have reduced some of my easiest friendships into a series of likes and retweets, the ultimate exercise in laziness. But the same digital networks have made imagined room for connections that are bigger than bandwidths. I’m in California right now, and I just sent a Whatsapp to a friend in Barcelona. I liked my Cuban acquaintance’s professional Facebook page. International phone cards are more affordable and better quality, and hell, I don’t work as a waitress anymore.

Long term, frequent travel can change our definition of home, and the people we meet along the way create a tremendous diaspora with regards to our loved ones. We were creative in our adventures to get to these people, and technology allows us to be increasingly creative when it comes to getting back to them. It’s real life time travel, using the latest in light-bending technologies to go back to the moments when these people weren’t just in our hearts, but our daily lives as well.

The paths our friendships take may be inevitably changed by the digital landscape for the worse or for the better. I still have to remind myself to make the call instead of tapping “like” to stay in touch with certain friends. But for others – those who have shaped my travels and every day I’ve lived since returning from them – the instant connect seems to have been a lot longer coming than its current immediacy.

Feels good to be home.