I've been home (the US) for a week after being abroad for 14 months.
First meal: In an airport restaurant. Ordered nachos with extra guacamole on the side. Surprised that the guacamole wasn't avocado, but just green mush. Gross. Meal came within 5 minutes of ordering it and the bill came 2 minutes after I finished eating. All of it happened so fast, I wondered if it had happened at all. Holy crap, American service. Take a chill pill.
The following meals: I overate at each and every one. I have been uncomfortably full since I stepped back in the states. So, in a truly American way, eating has become much more of a recreational activity than a survival mechanism.
First shopping experience: First of all, Americans forget that shopping is really a complete sensory experience. Over time, our senses get used to this overstimulation and it becomes an everyday experience. But for the out-of-touch, it is very overwhelming. The smell of perfume, the light pop music playing from invisible speakers, all clothes easily displayed within reach, the comforting lighting. I would have been happy just walking around, singing to American music and touching all of the soft clothing. Everything was so visually appealing. Good job, Mall Design People. I was successfully lulled into a shopping daze.
Things I am constantly surprised about since being back:
During my last few weeks in Zanzibar, I was definitely ready to go home. By "home", at the time, I was just thinking about the US in general. But just having arrived in Atlanta a few hours ago, I realized the "home" I fantasized about was, actually, Atlanta. Interesting how I identify myself with a place called "home" even though nothing I own is here except the vast majority of my friends. This is the place I found myself as an adult in the "real world." This is where I learned how to pay rent on time, go to work when I didn't want to, take part in community beerfests and be so familiar with a place I can go on autopilot after being away for over a year. Abroad, when asked where I was from, I told people that I grew up in Miami, went to college in Connecticut and taught in Atlanta. Yes, I said all of that because I identify strongly with all 3 places. But it is Atlanta that feels like coming home to an old, familiar friend.
First meal: In an airport restaurant. Ordered nachos with extra guacamole on the side. Surprised that the guacamole wasn't avocado, but just green mush. Gross. Meal came within 5 minutes of ordering it and the bill came 2 minutes after I finished eating. All of it happened so fast, I wondered if it had happened at all. Holy crap, American service. Take a chill pill.
The following meals: I overate at each and every one. I have been uncomfortably full since I stepped back in the states. So, in a truly American way, eating has become much more of a recreational activity than a survival mechanism.
First shopping experience: First of all, Americans forget that shopping is really a complete sensory experience. Over time, our senses get used to this overstimulation and it becomes an everyday experience. But for the out-of-touch, it is very overwhelming. The smell of perfume, the light pop music playing from invisible speakers, all clothes easily displayed within reach, the comforting lighting. I would have been happy just walking around, singing to American music and touching all of the soft clothing. Everything was so visually appealing. Good job, Mall Design People. I was successfully lulled into a shopping daze.
Things I am constantly surprised about since being back:
- Everything and everyone smells good. All of the time.
- Everything is so orderly. People stand in lines. Cars stay in their lanes and drive the proper way.
- Food choices. Oh, how I missed you, Salad Dressing Section.
- Music I can sing along to playing in public places. Which I have done. Quite loudly.
- How ABSURD commercials are (TV and radio).
- The ease at which I can order things and get EXACTLY what I want.
- How well I sleep on comfortable mattresses. And how common they are.
During my last few weeks in Zanzibar, I was definitely ready to go home. By "home", at the time, I was just thinking about the US in general. But just having arrived in Atlanta a few hours ago, I realized the "home" I fantasized about was, actually, Atlanta. Interesting how I identify myself with a place called "home" even though nothing I own is here except the vast majority of my friends. This is the place I found myself as an adult in the "real world." This is where I learned how to pay rent on time, go to work when I didn't want to, take part in community beerfests and be so familiar with a place I can go on autopilot after being away for over a year. Abroad, when asked where I was from, I told people that I grew up in Miami, went to college in Connecticut and taught in Atlanta. Yes, I said all of that because I identify strongly with all 3 places. But it is Atlanta that feels like coming home to an old, familiar friend.
