The Homeland

I am sitting in little Sagarejo, with lovely, kind Georgians, wiping my eyes from the news coverage of memorials for 9/11. May God bless those who lost loved ones. 

I have found nothing but kindness in Georgia, but oh how I miss America right now. 

 I love to travel. I was struck with near fatal wanderlust when I was a small child, but I was luckily diagnosed early by my aunt (who spent much of her life in Europe). There is no cure, but I have kept it (mostly) in check. But right now, I just want to be home for a few hours. I was working on a post about my birthday fun, but I think that can wait. And I could write about a lot of things America does/did/has that make me angry, but I won't. And I could get super deep and serious, but this little blog isn't really the place. Instead, here's my little love letter. 

I love the United States. I love it so much I'm not even sure how to explain myself. 

I found myself in conversation with a bunch of students from Europe, studying in DC, and they were telling me how funny they found it that we put our flag on bikinis and t-shirts. Our patriotism often expresses itself in silly ways - in 'Murica and stereotypes and shotguns and bald eagles. We act to the extreme because it is funny, but also because it is safe. As Americans, we are often seen as arrogant if we say we have a great country. But if we make it a joke, we can't be criticized. And it's also because we love a good joke. But I'm not joking when I say I love my country. 

I plan to spend much of my life abroad. Georgia will be the third foreign country I have spent a good amount of time in, but nothing will make my love for America diminish. In fact, the more I travel, the more I love my country. I'm sure most people feel the same about their own countries. 

I love the American mentality of "no job too big", how the accents, culture, flora and fauna vary across our huge nation. I love the social mobility, the chance America gives you. I know "life isn't fair" and America isn't perfect by any means, but I have friends who are political refugees who go to Harvard, recent immigrants from Peru who are now successful business men, Bolivian immigrant friends running dance troops, friends from dangerous inner city neighborhoods that now attend ivy league universities. I love how our Olympic team was the most diverse of all the ones you saw walk into the arena. I love our passion for volunteering and service. I love our sass. I love that I get approached by Mormon missionaries in the park. I love that I sometimes read blogs saying horrible, terrible things about America. Those things mean freedom. I love New York City, I love tiny Cordova, South Carolina. I love our stupid pop music. I even love star-spangled bikinis. 

I might spend the rest of my life abroad. Or I might go west on that All-American road trip I've always planned. I might settle down in the Appalachian mountains. Wherever I am, I will love America and I will write love letters to her. 

I spent my summer in Washington, DC and one silly, little moment encapsulated some of my favorite parts of America. I was sitting on the National Mall, about to watch the fireworks, with some fellow Smithsonian interns. An Indian family sat in front of us, the women dressed in beautiful sarees, speaking in Hindi. Suddenly, as the fireworks began a little boy from their group jumped up and shouted "EVERYDAY I'M SHUFFLING!" Everyone in the area laughed and cheered. Pop music. Multiculturalism. Shouting. DC. Fireworks.

God bless America.  

Reverse Culture Shock and Animal Therapy

I'm in Daytona Beach, Florida and I have now been in the United States of America for exactly one week, after nearly 6 months in Peru.

Today, I had some reverse culture shock.

I was at the beach with friends and friends of friends and I wasn't feeling very well and everything suddenly seemed so strange; the food and the conversation and the friends and the friends of friends. I can't pinpoint exactly what it was but I felt completely out of place, as if nothing I had ever done could relate to this situation or these people. It was a lovely day and everyone was friendly and kind....

....but all I wanted was for a D'nofria ice cream man with his little yellow cart to role up. I wanted to buy a Tri-color with my soles and ask him for it in Spanish. I wanted to talk about international travel and where to find the best pisco sours and what the heck was happening in Chile, anyway?

There were plenty of times in Peru when I only wanted to speak English and eat American food. But in Peru, that was ok because I felt like I was on a grand adventure...this. here, in Florida running errands, sunning on the beach, is normal life for millions of Americans, and I feel like I don't belong.

But enough moping.

Lately, I've been really loving dogs and cats. I didn't have pets in Peru and I'm not allowed to have them in DC. But I got to hang with my Grandpa's pets and now with my friend's family of 2 dogs and a cat and it is amazing therapy (I'll post photos soon!). My friend here has a cat that was raised with dogs, and she thinks she is a dog and feels like silk. My Grandpa has a dog named Banjo and a cat named Cat that is a beautiful half siamese. (We tried to get him to name it Fiddle, to go along with Banjo, but he wouldn't have it.) Animals don't care what culture you are used to. And all these animals are adorable and strangely make me miss my Ball Python I used to have name Quetzal (and also my cat, but Quetzal came to mind first).

Don't ask me why snuggling a silky kitty makes me think of my snake, but it does. He was a good snake, and where ever you are now, Quetzal, I hope your adopted family is treating you well.

Maybe the next post will make more sense and be more aesthetically pleasing. In fact, I promise it will. Please don't stop reading just because of this...

{Also, follow my blog! You just have to create a profile but don't have to start your own blog! I would love some more followers! (it helps to have a followed blog as a writing sample for jobs)}

I Forgot to Post in the Fourth of July....

I have now spent the Fourth of July in Oxford, England, New York City,

the middle of the woods in a cabin with a bunch of kids, and Lima, Peru.

We are Ammurican! Red & White & Blue, Coca-Cola, Beer and MEAT!

(that's a piece of chicken)

I Love You, good ol' USA! Nothing like living abroad to make you love your home country...

And as we toasted during our makeshift 4th of July party and sing-a-long....

To the USA!

To recycling!

To flushing your toilet paper!

To drinking tap water!

To not having security guards hit on you!

To thrift stores!

To second hand book stores!

To knock-knock jokes!

(this managed to waylay us into a lesson of knock-knock jokes to one of our Peruvian friends)

and finally...

"To Harry Potter!"

"thats from England!"

"Yeah...but I like it!"

(putting old enmities aside this Fourth...)

I miss you, America. See you soon.