WanderingWhy…

On Monday night I returned to Bangkok to find my husband in the airport waiting for me.  I knew I had been gone a long time, but did not realize it as much as I did in that moment.  Although my first thought was, wow, he looks really skinny!  WS eats, but has a super metabolism that we would all kill for.

The time change has been a challenge for me.  I am writing this post at 6am, but have been up since 4am thinking about it.  Not because it will be awe-inspiring, more like I just can’t sleep.  My body is still fighting the clock.

When I went home a month ago, I went with a job to do.  I was pretty focused on what I was going to the US for, and how my brother and I needed to work together to settle things for my father.  And with that focus, I forgot about a lot of things that make our country what it is, and make me who I am.

The first thing that I noticed when I returned to the US was that everyone understood me.  When I asked a question, I was answered in a way I could comprehend.  I could get from A to B without getting too lost.  It was clean, organized, with an excellent infrastructure.  Things made sense.

The next thing I underwent was sticker shock.  We went out to dinner the first night I was home, and my salad and drink was over $10, not including tip.  For $10 in Thailand I can eat, Sean can eat double, for three meals.  And snacks.

The escalators in stores are on the opposite side from Australia, Japan, and Thailand.  People pass you on the opposite side as well.  And the stores themselves, don’t get me started!  I spent two hours in Target with my cart going up and down the aisles.  Two different associates asked me if I needed help I was there so long.  But I was relishing all the choices I had, and taking my time to enjoy it.

Other things that I missed were bagels, Starbucks Chai tea, and cereal.  And the biggie?  Driving.  I went where I wanted, when I wanted.  No bus schedule, no renting a bike, no taxi, no haggling with a tuk tuk driver.  I drove to the store.  I drove back.  I drove to Starbucks.  I drove back.  I spent just as much time in my brother’s car as I did his house.  And while I was driving, people stopped at lights and signs, drove on their side of the street, and did not use the horn incessantly as a greeting, warning, and turn signal.

Going home made me realize how Western I really am.  But that is okay.  I love our country, I love where we live, I love our opportunities.  I am proud of who I am and where I am from.  Sometimes it takes a trip like this to appreciate just how good we have it at home.  Even if my appreciation began on a Chai Tea Level.

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