This country seems strange

Northern Ireland has not changed much in a year, but there is something we cannot quite put our finger on that feels odd.

Maybe it is the things we miss? Things like: hearing chickens and the rest of the dawn chorus; not being up and about before 6am (and in bed soon after 9pm!); walking everywhere in blissful sunshine, having time to take in the neighbourhood, sometimes being followed by random small children and goats; the regular storms – dark skies, sheet lightening, thunder, raindrops bouncing off the road; not hearing French and a dozen other languages. Are we looking back to the 'good old days' and forgetting linguistic and cultural bewilderment, among other things?

Maybe it is the things we were once used to, that just seem odd now: being inundated with advertising; having everyone around us dashing about in a hurry to get somewhere, not taking time to meet and greet those around them; the massive portions served as 'normal' in restaurants; the extravagant waste; the dozen or more English translations of the Bible, often unread, when some people in Cameroon are rejoicing over a New Testament in their language.

We can't complain though – we were told a year ago that things would feel odd on our return and we are thankful we haven't had the extremes of re-entry some people have had. Maybe living in a city and having access to supermarkets was helpful, compared to friends who found the sheer amount of pet-food for sale troubling, or those who were paralysed by a choice of twenty shampoo types when they got back to NI (not that Clarke is going to have that problem anyway!).

There are things we took for granted that we question – some of the values and ethics of our society seem strange. Maybe they seemed odd before and the sharp contrast with another way to live has shown how odd they are. A few nights ago we watched a documentary about cosmetic surgery going wrong and how many people in the UK think they need face-lifts. The face-lifts are not the real problem – they are just a symptom of a society that conditions people from the day they are born to feel worthless.

We didn't see many beauty magazines in Cameroon, or adverts for loans promising you all your dreams come true, if only you agree to 60 easy payments of £199.95 per month.

How do we explain all of this to people? How do we explain the joy people can have in simple pleasures? How do we explain a less-hassled existence, without needless over-complications? How do we describe a much-longer church service, with hard benches but still bubbling over with joy and enthusiasm? How do we walk a balance between fitting back in, as if nothing has happened, and seeming to be weirdos?

Some people understand – they've been there, done that, and know about transition between cultures far better than us. Some people try to understand and ask questions. Some people don't get it at all. Sometimes talking to people brings back so much joy and delight as we remember our time in Cameroon and the people we knew there.

Sometimes talking to people reminds us of explaining the rules of 5-day test cricket to our American friends – there's nothing in their experience even remotely like it and our best efforts just cause more confusion.

We've had our re-entry debriefing this week, which helped. It's good to talk to others who have been through the same process and to compare experiences (we are not alone!). It's good to evaluate the entire year and know that despite a few challenges, it has been overwhelmingly positive and helpful.

In the next few weeks, it's back to work and the proper routine of life in Northern Ireland. It will be interesting to see how that feels!