Le Mal du Pays

I’ve been kind of homesick lately.  Here’s the thing, though: I don’t really miss my life in the United States.  It was too easy for me to take things for granted when I lived there.  I was talking to a friend yesterday, and he said that he thinks living abroad can become kind of an addiction, in a way.  And it’s true.  Even when you’re going about your mundane chores, there is something about all of it that is interesting and challenging and requires you to celebrate small victories.  Calling a taxi or asking for chicken at the butcher’s counter (and getting exactly what you wanted) become huge successes in your day.  Most of my friends here speak at least two languages and can tell me great stories about countries I still want to visit.  And being a bit isolated from society (both the one you left and your new one) makes it easier to step back, look at all of the millions of choices people make because they think they have to, and ask why.  [Just a few examples: Why do I need to join a gym to be healthy?  I keep healthy here with all the things I do outdoors.  Why would you continue to pay taxes in a country where there is a private police force for rich people because it is assumed that the regular police won’t do their jobs?  Why would I want to eat something that smells like that? Why do I accept it as natural that doctors (and medicine) are supposed to be expensive?  Supposed to make a profit from my health?  There are plenty more questions.  Some serious, some incredibly not serious.]

Milwaukee from the edge of Lake Michigan at the end of winter.

Anyway, back to the point.  I’m not homesick for the lifestyle I had.  What I’m homesick for, quite simply, is people.  For one thing, I miss the sheer variety of people back home.  Poland has an interesting culture and a pretty incredible history, but they’ve somehow ended up with a country that is not particularly racially diverse.  (You’ve never seen so many shades of white.)  On top of that, you rarely seem to see someone walking toward you on the street who is tattooed and grungy and has purposely messy hair, or who thinks she’s a Japanese school girl, or that it’s 1966, and it’s ok to be barefooted in a flower-print skirt while walking down a city sidewalk.  You mostly see slim, fashionable women and muscular, conventional men.  I really do miss all the colors of the people in Milwaukee.

Much more important, though, are the people I love.  Starting, of course, with my family.  There is no doubt that families are tough.  No other people on earth will ever be quite so honest with you, quite so harsh.  But if you ever need anything, no other people on earth will jump through quite so many hoops to get to you, even if they’re angry with you at the time.  No one else will tell you they miss you even when you were a huge asshole the last time you saw them.  Also, no one else could provide you with a tiny person who runs to the front door when you come home for Christmas shouting, “Auntie Rachel!  Can you sleep with me tonight?”  And that feeling is worth more than every material possession I have ever owned or hope to own. 

And then there are the friends.  The ones who’ve known me for ages and seen me from every possible angle and somehow love me anyway.  I’ve got friends back home who had to drag me off the couch and force me into the shower after a bad relationship ended.  Friends who went roller-skating with me for my 26^th birthday and then sang karaoke (and sat through my rendition of “Pussy Control” again). Who will never say no to Mexican food, and who send me pom poms, glitter and a harmonica in the mail.  Friends who told my near-suicidal lawyer-self to stop whining and quit if it was really so bad.  Friends who are really really funny.  (I just have to remember Evie asking John if he thought she was Mr. Peanut, and I still laugh until I cry).  Friends who would never tell me to come home if I’m happy, no matter how much they miss me.  

Well, I may not be coming home, but I miss you, too.  And I thought you should know.

P.S. Happy birthday, Evie!