I was born and raised in the Midwest. Like many people, I wondered what else was in the world; sometimes -- maybe too often -- I imagined that Europe, in particular, had better things to offer. In the way too many books and movies go, I felt a strong urge to leave and pursue something that, in my mind, was better. Quite in line with the conclusion to many of those tales, I realized that “home” was the best place to be.

Visiting was incredible. My palate appreciated a diet that consisted of few-to-no GMOs; the beer was marvelous -- I’m looking at you, Germany -- and the drinking culture was noticeably healthier, too. The history was unfathomable; being able to see churches, walls, castles and streets older than my country was and is surreal. Being dropped in another country was quite an overload to my senses. I have never before been more aware of how happily American I am.

My Midwestern attributes -- particularly my tendency to smile and want to befriend every stranger -- really backfired. As I was handing my passport over to a security guard in Amsterdam, anxiously awaiting my flight to O’Hare, he held it back when I smiled apparently a little too much.

“Why are you laughing?” he asked. I wasn’t aware of letting even the smallest chuckle out. I’d simply asked him how he was doing. “I’m just excited to go home,” was all I could say. He looked a bit confused and concerned, but handed me my passport and let me go. (When we arrived at O’Hare, a security guard responded to my grateful smile and welcomed me home with typical Midwestern joviality. It was refreshing.)

This is not to say that Europeans aren’t kind. Conversely, they’re very respectful of individuals. So much so, in fact, that they don’t typically initiate conversations, make eye contact with strangers or engage in casual banter -- even public transportation is privatized in this way. To my delight, however, some Europeans were more than happy to strike up conversations and display glimpses of kindness.

At first, I thought it was rude. I finally realized that it wasn’t a snub of friendliness, but simply a matter of going on with life that didn’t require finding out how many siblings someone had, their favorite movie and what kind of car they drive.

Although I’m happy to be from the Midwest, seeing this behavior was liberating. I eventually settled into a semblance of it and was able to move from metro to cafe to museum without infiltrating too much personal space. It provided anonymity, which was truly a breath of fresh air.

Coming home was so wonderful, though. I landed in a country that - despite this election, mass shootings and bigotry, to name just a select few of our troubles -- I understand and call home. I could smile at people and it felt acceptable, even if it wasn’t returned.

When I left America, I harbored more disdain for it than I did upon returning. While abroad, I learned that so many of our issues are not just American issues -- they’re global. Conservative politicians have and continue to tear down groups to build themselves up; this has been happening for so long, and it’s not isolated.

Taking time away from home helped me appreciate the goodness of the people beyond our downfalls. America isn’t made of Donald Trumps, despite the number of people who haven’t realized that they’re better than that box on the ballot. America is made of people who are trying at whatever it is they do; the whole world is, really, and disliking a country because of a few bad apples isn’t rational, reasonable or fair.

I can’t wait to visit Europe again. It’s a continent full of good people, incredibly wonderful cultures and priceless history. Being able to call America home and cultivate a desire to travel presents me with a great opportunity to grow. I have seen the merits of countries who do many things -- like foreign language education, food, beer and public transportation -- better than we do.

I’m much more aware of how to become more well-rounded as a global citizen. I’m also more forgiving of flaws in my own country; every single place in the world has them, despite my original bias toward Europe. We are all trying, failing and succeeding in different ways and to different degrees.

I expected to learn more about European history and its myriad cultures when I visited. I didn’t expect to learn how to be a better and more appreciative American, but I’m truly grateful that I did.