Where IS home?
While living in France...
Flying to Seattle, for a week of just stacked and packed meetings, I am utterly confused. I am not sure if I am coming or going. Paris isn't quite home yet; I haven't really adapted to thinking of myself as living there. (I still don't know my address but I have the phone number just nailed, which I am very proud of. All those digits....) And yet Seattle ... is this still home? I own a house here, but someone else lives in it!
My nose is pressed against the window as we begin to descend. I am so impressed with the endless stretch of mountains with Mount Rainer as the main focal point. Ah yes, Mount Rainer is just smiling, laughing. She knows that from up here, she is just beautiful, looking so EASY to climb. But I am sure the wind is just fierce at the top. Climbers cling to the mountain with ice axes, crampons, and ropes. ....I wander through the typical maze of an airport. A small Japanese man with big ears is completely lost. He doesn't speak English, but tries to communicate with me. I smile. Today is not MY day to be lost and confused. I get him through the trains, through getting a cart(which he tries to pay for with a 100 dollar bill), and get him to his luggage. I take 
total control of where he's going, what he's doing. He smiles ... he thanks me in the most gracious way. I want to tell him that I understand COMPLETELY the hassles of an airport that you can't figure out. But he doesn't speak my language. Instead, I just lead him over to the taxi, ask the taxi cab driver how much to go downtown, write down the figure for my new friend, smile, and wave good bye. For a brief moment I think he's going to tip me, but he doesn't. He opens his wallet so I can help him pick out the right bill to pay for the taxi. It just makes my whole day ...
total control of where he's going, what he's doing. He smiles ... he thanks me in the most gracious way. I want to tell him that I understand COMPLETELY the hassles of an airport that you can't figure out. But he doesn't speak my language. Instead, I just lead him over to the taxi, ask the taxi cab driver how much to go downtown, write down the figure for my new friend, smile, and wave good bye. For a brief moment I think he's going to tip me, but he doesn't. He opens his wallet so I can help him pick out the right bill to pay for the taxi. It just makes my whole day ... I drag my luggage through Avis (for me now pronounced the French way of A-VEEE.) I pickup an odd green colored big American car, which matches perfectly with the odd American BIG roads. I buzz down the highway, way too fast, flipping through the amazing num
ber of channels on the radio.
ber of channels on the radio.As I make it out to my hotel, I am simply amazed .... massive grocery stores, big English speaking bookstores, dry cleaners, different places to eat .... the selection overwhelms me. I feel almost confused in what and where to go first. What will I have for lunch? I salivate .... mmmmm. ...
Days later, I find myself demanding choice. I am in Florida on a two-day "shop til you drop" spree. Money seems so meaningless; the bills I sign are for someone else. (This will be the last trip I go on without Keveeen... and you can bet I won't let him within a 100 miles of the US borders without me.) Mom and I m
ake a big mistake of buying me a huge new suitcase, which gives me this great goal of filling it.
ake a big mistake of buying me a huge new suitcase, which gives me this great goal of filling it. Mom is just awesome ... she helps me pick out CDs, my favorite instant food, a new coat, new shoes (that look so French), new pants(that go perfect with the shoes), running shoes, a back pack for Kev, power converters (that hopefully don't blow up our appliances and actually get them to work), power bars, running shoes, books on France, and on and on. It's amazing how quickly we just run through the list,taking breaks only for a quick lunch.
I no longer Pardon and Merci. I remember that I can speak to people on the streets and I don't have to point and signal to what I want. Amazing what language does for communications... ... And now the flight home. I walk into the BA terminal and suddenly I am back in Europe. My clothes aren't funny. (I spot other girls wearing plaid pants with slight bellbottoms, big black shoes that are down right hidious, and dangling earnings.) I am happy to get back...back to La Defense and Nuelly... to places I can't pronounce, people I can't talk to, and prices that always seem like they are way too much.
Keveeen is picking me up at the airport in our little white VW Golf. I really hope the luggage all fits .. or that I don't hurt my back trying to carry all this stuff through customs. Oh, no, customs. I do hope they don't nail me.
This could be a real good welcome home if I spend the whole day arguing with French customs. (No, I didn't realize I couldn't bring this into the country.) Hmm .. welcome home, or welcome back... or maybe I should just say goodbye to home, which depending on how you want to look at it could be either Florida or Seattle. I am confused again on this queer issue. I don't know how people do this if they live in several places in a year. Can you imagine?
"Madam, what is your home address?" She looks down ather watch to check the date. "Well, I am not really sure..." And how would you ever get your mail? The bills would always be late ....(although I have noticed that bills seem to find me. It's the stuff I want like a birthday present from my sister Lisa that doesn't show up.)
Well, this very short (7 1/2 hour) flight back to London Heathrow is just about over. My ears are popping and the flight attendants are doing the "final check." If I don't turn off my machine, the plane will blow up, or so they tell me. I cannot imagine that this laptop really does interfere with anything in the front of the plane. However, I would hate to try one of those "water landings", especially in my new clunky shoes. For sure I would drown trying to keep my computer above water or trying to fish out my new luggage. After all, how could I leave behind the new power converter, the new clothes, Kevin's new back pack, books on France or the instant food?
