go home

Two weeks home after two years gone. Going back was certainly helpful in more ways than one. I’m seeing things more realistically, which I’ll get to in a minute.

The whole journey was an event in itself. I arrived in Amsterdam to catch the flight to Houston. Just by looking at the passengers I knew this was the flight before I even checked to make sure. I can’t say what told me exactly, but I suspect many things – the diversity of people, the jeans and baseball caps – everything screamed Americans. It was a nice feeling. I settled in to wait for the flight to board and overheard a middle aged woman discussing airport security with her husband. “Well they do sell drugs here” she drawled.
It made me smile. Attitudes are so different in Europe. So what if you can go into a coffee house and buy a space cake or if you can buy nudie magazines at the local gas station? There’s no concern or judgement really, people mind their own business. Or at least it seems that way.

During the flight a TV show was playing and all the passengers seemed to be enjoying it. I finally asked they guy next to me what the name of the show was – something to do with Vegas. He looked shocked. “I thought you were American?” “I am” I replied, “just haven’t been home in a long time.” I felt that first sense that this might be a shock for me, that I was really out of touch with what is happening in America.

The doors opened as I walked through customs and I felt a whoosh of air conditioning. It made me delighted, I haven’t felt anything like that it a long time. Nothing like freezing cold air conditioning in Texas during the summer to make you feel at home.

The hugs from my family were heavenly and they quickly whisked me off to a Mexican restaurant as I had asked prior to coming home (after dashing around the corner for my first cigarette in 15 hours). As we are driving around in my parents tank like vehicle (Chevy Tahoe), the discussion of politics begins with strong points of view and conspiracy theories. Like I never left…

The Houston freeway made me quite nervous. Five lane highways with cars flying by in any given lane and trucks barreling on cars and switching lanes. It made me think of the Autobahn with the rules of passing only on the left and trucks always in the right lane, so orderly compared to the absolute chaos of an American interstate. My discomfort was quickly replaced by hunger as we pulled into one of my favorite mexican restaurants. I just ordered the biggest guacamole they served and chowed down. Amazing!

Within days I was already adjusted as if I’d never left. I watched tons of TV, drank tea and coke with ICE, and used my credit card everywhere. So many stores with so much stuff, it was overwhelming. I quickly grew tired of shopping and spent time relaxing by the pool and working on my tan. It was wonderful. I even drove by my house. I avoided it at first, thinking it would make me sad, but it didn’t. I noticed the trees I’d planted had grown and it looked good. I felt peace rather than sadness.

Returning to Germany was hard at first. For the first two weeks I was pretty homesick and depressed. My mind was back in the States with my family. But once that passed my attitudes began to change. I noticed I didn’t fantasize about being home when things are hard here. My “grass is greener” attitude was gone. It began to settle in that home is not some perfect place to idealize, but a place to live with all the struggles, frustration, and happiness that comes with day to day life. I noticed myself feeling more content in Germany, still wanting to go back to the States sometime in the near future, but without the urgency.

Home can wait. I’m here for now and actually okay with it in a way I’ve never been before. Going home was one of the best experiences I’ve had in the past few years.

I’m looking forward to doing it again.

and I’m headed back to the States for two weeks. I am excited about seeing my friends and family! I am interested in what it will be like to be back in the States after being gone 2 years.

I’ve received a great offer for a job – and I’m terrified. It would be a gain in many areas, salary and employability. But would require yet another contract to stay in Germany for another 3 years.

I’m not unhappy here and the offer is very tempting. I struggle in many ways between wanting security and wanting freedom. This job would provide a great deal of security, but again I would feel bound and trapped by a contract. I could quit, then I would have to move myself home, taking a significant financial hit.

So much has happened so fast. I search for my intuition and I can’t differentiate between fear and intuition. Decision can be so difficult. Arrgghh….

I had lunch with a very good friend the other day. Among other things we discussed my possible departure back to the United States next July. I told her I can’t see myself staying here, but can’t really see myself living in America either.

She said maybe you are looking for a sign….

I spoke with my mother the other night and could hear the news blaring in the background with a familiar voice overdramatizing everything he said.

“Is that Wolf Blitzer?”

“Yes”

I felt a disgusted feeling and loathing for American news and crappy media. Feeling somewhat happy that I read news off the internet and have barriers to protect me (i.e. I don’t know enough German) as well as better news sources when I do choose to watch the news.

But today has been so miserable. Trying to bridge a distance that feels like a gulf now over the phone. Lonely, not even a day trip to Prague yesterday was enough.

It’s time to go home.

_{I’m scared}

I’m talking to a soldier on the phone today. We finish our discussion and he says “I’ve got to ask, where are you from in the States?”

“Texas” I replied.

“I thought so, I kept trying to place your accent. It was bugging me so I had to ask.”

It was 80 degrees the other day in Central Texas. I miss home.

Errghh!

I’m having doubts again about going home. I’ve talked with many people who tell me that returning to the US really helps them know if “they’re ready” to go back to the States.

Some people flee back with a renewed love for being an expat and others really want to come home.

I, by lack of knowledge and choice, have not given myself this option. I always planned never to return until my time was up.

What if I get home and hate it? What if I feel I should have stayed longer? I do have that opportunity. And I feel comfortable where I am and like my job (depends what day you ask but overall I like this).

At the same time, I’ve always known I resist change and that this may just be part of the anticipatory anxiety that goes along with major life changes.

The season is not so great either. I sent out my usual Happy Holidays newsletter to the people back home and got one reply. I wonder if anyone besides our parents will give a shit whether we come back at all.

I can’t really see myself staying here either. Arrrgghhh!

Therapists call it a “lightbulb moment.”

I was running to catch a plane in Nurnberg that left in 30 minutes. After standing in line impatiently, I am finally helped and subsequently told I’m too late.

“But the flight hasn’t left”

“The flight is closed.”

In pleading my case, that’s all I got no matter who I spoke with. I even called headquarters in Berlin and asked to speak to a supervisor, I was refused saying “you were late.” Never mind I might have made it if I hadn’t had to stand in line so long. So 120 Euro flushed down the drain. I got pretty aggressive with the staff, repeating myself like a broken record to no avail. Customer service is not their strong suit.

After everything passed and we drove down the road in silence for a couple hours I said to my husband.

“I like Germany, there are many things to admire about the country and it’s culture but I’m getting so tired of the excessive rules, rigidity, and blaming nature of many of the people. I’m ready to go home.”

To my surprise he agreed with me.

I explained to my mother when she was here. It’s not abruptness per se, its the fact that someone is always to blame. There is no such thing as an accident or a simple mistake. Like our landlady with her decrepit lawn mower she insists my husband breaks, despite the fact that it is welded together and fastened with nuts and bolts that don’t fit each other.

But even that is not the main reason, I just don’t experience that “wow” moment as frequently as I did before. I expect that is normal when you’ve lived in a place for an extended period of time.

On the other hand, reading the news back in the States is enough to make me nervous, not to mention the memories of picking up crack baggies that had drifted into my lawn. America is so much more dangerous and violent that Europe. I’ve lost some of my paranoia I had when I got here.

Perhaps a new goal…reintegrate back into American life without losing what i have learned and experienced._{And not get shot, robbed, or assaulted}

I’ve written here about my struggles with the idea of going home. I do think more frequently about being an ex-pat for an extended period of time.

Then while standing in a large terminal waiting for my mom to clear customs I’m starting to get anxious “is this the right area for the flight from DFW?”

The response comes quicker than I though in the form of two middle aged men talking to each other with Texas accents that could be cut with a knife. I looked at them and broke into a smile.

It felt like home for a second. I miss Texas.

9 mos and I am free to go.

I want to see my family but I don’t feel excited about coming back to the US. I just spoke with my parents on the phone and politics came up. I don’t know what was said exactly but I started talking bluntly and honestly and it shocked them into silence. I spoke the truth as I see it, Americans are some of the most selfish people in the developed world! And all this talk about whether the US is “using torture” is ridiculous. Things will come out later about this war and people will be shocked – just like Vietnam and ask “how could this happen” when all the while it is happening right beneath their noses. Americans care about their pocketbook first, then maybe about how their neighbor might be doing…i.e. me, me, me.

I probably wasn’t any better, I won’t be a hypocrite but I told my parents I can’t come back to the US and not be politically active. I won’t stick my head in the sand.

There was complete silence on the other end. My mother’s voice was stunned when she tried to talk to me. My dad just changed the subject. I don’t know how to make them understand.

I don’t know if it is possible to understand without leaving the United States for an extended period of time and living where the gap between rich and poor is amazing narrow, where heathcare is available to everyone, and people are concerned with the well-being of all citizens, not just themselves.

Once that has been experienced, seeing a insignificant health care bill for CHILDREN being vetoed is enough to make one sick!

I continue to wonder if I can come home at all.

After some heated emails, and lots of anger and hurt expressed on my part, my mother is coming to see me. I called last night just to ask why she changed her mind, and she said “It just seemed like you really wanted me to come.” ??? Wasn’t that what I was saying the whole time? Makes me wonder about communication. In my view, I was saying that the whole time. To my mother, she must have been hearing “come see Europe” something which she’s not interested in doing – for her own reasons I guess.

I knew I wanted her to come, but I didn’t realize how much until she finally agreed. I didn’t know how happy it would make me.

Her visit helps me feel I can continue for another year. Even though I already know that I could. The horrible headlines on the internet about the insanity of America helps put a damper on the hurry to return home as well.

It is as if America is the addictive reality TV show for the rest of the world. Some are amused, some are fascinated, and some are disgusted and horrified. _{I fall into the latter camp, what is going on over there????}

Then again, I woke up wishing for eggs and pancakes in a little diner I could go to with a friend. And read everything on the menu with no difficulty and communicate without gestures. Oh well, life of the ex-pat I guess.