It’s Just My Goats & I Now
After thirty-six hours of hearing unmistakably American accents, eating unmistakably American food and finding both tissues and toilet paper in every bathroom, I have finally admitted that I am back in the USA. It is always a strange and semi-torturous adjustment period for me, as I lament the end of another adventure while discovering with each passing year that the ‘comforts’ of home are not so ‘comforting’ anymore.
I used to return from India or Southeast Asia and run straight into a boiling hot shower, often spending several minutes offering freshly plucked and sparkling clean hair strands to the gods of pipes and water boilers. I prefer cold showers now.
Although I have a car to drive, a washing machine to use and a street full of mega-stores and chain restaurants to visit, I see them as mere luxuries, no longer necessary now that I am perfectly content with walking until my feet are sore and washing my clothes in a bucket until my knuckles bleed. Besides, the stores over here do not really sell me anything I particularly need and my stomach certainly has no objections to living off of freshly cooked, flavorful street food for all eternity.
I know that this bitterness will pass of course. It’s just that returning home always represents the reality of not being able to remain on the road forever (either due to financial or self-inflicted mental obstacles). But I know the drill; the desire to explore does not merely disappear amid the conspiratorial attraction of all things American. Instead, I will soon be hearing barely audible whispers, aiming to tempt me with their gentle tones of persuasion. “Mozambique… Bolivia…Mongolia…Uganda” they will say, causing me to stumble and stutter and begin to wonder how long it will be until I am on the road again. When I start to miss the vendors with baskets of cucumbers on their heads and the feel of grotesquely dirtied, partially torn, foul-smelling rupee bills, I will find safety in the realization that I have not lost my way.
And because of that comforting thought, I am now ready to once again deal in clean, crisp dollar bills for the time being. I am ready to purchase my cucumbers, not from a head, but from a supermarket. My clothes will be clean when in public and I will resist the urge to eat my Bang Bang Chicken & Shrimp with my hands when visiting the local Cheesecake Factory. My driving shall be in an orderly and safe manner and in a vehicle that has been deemed ‘road worthy’ by the proper automobile authorities. I shall make my own tea, finally accepting that nobody sells fresh cups of it on my doorstep. I offer my sincerest apologies to the Florida tri-rail conductor whom I tried to bribe for a first-class seat (he can still keep the dollar though). And I will abandon my formation of a lobbying group whose intention was to replace the words ‘road’ and ‘street’ with the phrase ‘public toilet’ on every sign in the country.
For all those who read this, you now have my word that I will do my best to re-adjust while being as little a nuisance as possible.
But if you happen to see me burning my trash in the middle of the street or leading my goats on to the bus with me, please do not call the police. A warm embrace and reminder of where I am shall suffice and I promise you, my goats and I will simply walk away.
Tags: In the USA
dbaron
Oh, I can’t resist. It’s “Me & My Goats” not, in the context of your title, “My Goats & I”. And how’s your mother enjoying living with you and your goats? 😉
This post reminds me of how overly-fortunate we are here – how we consume so much more than is necessary. Thank you. . . and my you find peace in your discomfort, and joy in your waiting.