Sometimes I laugh about what connects me to my new homeland even when I’m back here in the States. As I sat down to write today, I looked out the window. I saw a dog come around the corner of a building. My initial thought was that it was a stray. Pretty much all dogs that come around the corner of buildings where I’m from are strays. But here, of corse, that almost never happens. Turns out, it was a dog that was on a long, thin leash. Her master was only a few yards behind. Things like that just click with me sometimes.
We’ve been back in our birth land for about 4 months — long enough to have the initial shockers wear off. Things like driving rules, clothing norms, social expectations, are becoming second nature again. But, there are still moments when something trips in my mind and I’m back across the ocean.
The other day, we heard someone shooting off fireworks. Even though we’ve been away from the unrest — and even in our area it has calmed down — my first reaction was to question in my heart, ‘was that tear gas or fireworks?’ I wonder if I’ll ever hear fireworks the same again.
In the city we’re visiting now, there are lots of people from South Asia. There are also lots of people from other areas of the world who cover their heads in public. Every time I see these people, I feel like I need to apologize for my jeans and t-shirt or lack of headgear. It feels strange to walk among these folks and not seek to fit into their cultures the way I would back home. I guess I’m still not so comfortable in my American skin.
We had a chance to eat some delicious Indian food the other day. I found myself trying to place it. What region did the cook come from? What style of curry did they use? I never used to understand this, or care. I just loved tasty curries. I also made some chai for friends recently. As they exclaimed on how good it tasted, I found myself wanting to apologize. I hadn’t used nearly enough sugar for guest’s tea! It was tasty to their palate, but it would never have gone off well back home!
Chris and I moved into a small apartment for a few months. As we were deciding how to set it up, we came close to taking out a small table and chairs in one corner and using a floor mat for dinner instead. It would have given us more space, but we ended up not doing it only because we didn’t want to have to move a table down from the third story.
So, we continue on here. Not quite home in either place. Not quite comfortable with either culture. It’s just part of it and I’m glad to call both places ‘Home.’
The mountains I'm missing.
We’ve been back in our birth land for about 4 months — long enough to have the initial shockers wear off. Things like driving rules, clothing norms, social expectations, are becoming second nature again. But, there are still moments when something trips in my mind and I’m back across the ocean.
The other day, we heard someone shooting off fireworks. Even though we’ve been away from the unrest — and even in our area it has calmed down — my first reaction was to question in my heart, ‘was that tear gas or fireworks?’ I wonder if I’ll ever hear fireworks the same again.
In the city we’re visiting now, there are lots of people from South Asia. There are also lots of people from other areas of the world who cover their heads in public. Every time I see these people, I feel like I need to apologize for my jeans and t-shirt or lack of headgear. It feels strange to walk among these folks and not seek to fit into their cultures the way I would back home. I guess I’m still not so comfortable in my American skin.
We had a chance to eat some delicious Indian food the other day. I found myself trying to place it. What region did the cook come from? What style of curry did they use? I never used to understand this, or care. I just loved tasty curries. I also made some chai for friends recently. As they exclaimed on how good it tasted, I found myself wanting to apologize. I hadn’t used nearly enough sugar for guest’s tea! It was tasty to their palate, but it would never have gone off well back home!
Chris and I moved into a small apartment for a few months. As we were deciding how to set it up, we came close to taking out a small table and chairs in one corner and using a floor mat for dinner instead. It would have given us more space, but we ended up not doing it only because we didn’t want to have to move a table down from the third story.
So, we continue on here. Not quite home in either place. Not quite comfortable with either culture. It’s just part of it and I’m glad to call both places ‘Home.’
The mountains I'm missing.
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