just before i left for europe, i was really feeling this whole summertime thing. the weather was pretty dang nice for texas in june, and i was all in this mode of popsicles and painted toes and straw hats and summertime reads and letting my hair air-dry and driving with the windows down and music blaring. i was just beginning to get a nice bronze color [well, bronze for me] – not something that i come by easily, especially since i’ve become a working woman, but somehow it had felt a little more effortless this year, like at some point between the beginning of june and the end of june, i had just woken up and my legs had turned kind of tan. the carefree bliss that is the beginning of summer, the promise of vacation, the days before the dreaded heat closes in on the south – the joy of it all was following me wherever i went.
and then i went to paris + amsterdam and it was a dream, and i felt completely in my glory, unaware of the world and what was going on at home, but spending all of my energy going everywhere and soaking up everything i could, trying to remember and capture every detail in words and photos and the bursting corners of my brain.
and then. then it was time to come home. the evening we got back to the states is mostly a fog, and the following day, my first full day back, was relaxing and rejuvenating, and i was still on my europe high, relishing in every memory of the trip and thoroughly enjoying my day off from work. i caught up on sleep, took a walk in the park with mom and lucky, drove home to dallas, unpacked, tried out a new restaurant across the street that specializes in healthy foods, had an afternoon swim at the pool, did lots of laundry, drank some good ol’ all-american iced tea, caught up on work emails, admired all my souvenirs, went to the grocery store, and dreamed of europe, mostly.
but slowly, the reality of the end of vacation caught up with me. because summer is halfway over and it’s 101 degrees outside and i’m stuck in a cube all day long, sitting down, unless i care to brave the 5-minute uphill walk under the beating sun to the test kitchen – which is not bad at all most of the time but is brutal in the dead of summer – whereby upon arrival i will no doubt be subject to either a sweat-bead mustache, pit stains, or the infamous cleavage drip [sorry to be so graphic, but let’s be real], or all of the above. [all texans are used to this to a certain extent, but there’s a vast difference between the conditions mentioned in an airy tank, jean shorts, and flip-flops versus work clothes. that takes it to a whole new level, people.]
also. the food feels so boring here, especially bread. yup, i sure miss the bread in europe, and the pastries, the markets. i miss walking all day with frequent coffee/snack breaks at cafes to rest our deserving legs. the public transportation systems, the old buildings, the history. all the die-hard fans of my favorite sport. i miss the romance, and the beautiful men and their accents and their fashionable clothes. the strange confidence that i had in myself in these cities that i’d never been to and whose languages i did not speak. sometime after i came down from my europe high, i felt like not only my spirits, but also my confidence, had deflated. why did i feel so sexy and fearless overseas, and why did the men prospects look so promising?? but more importantly, why don’t i feel that way here? what is it about these places that made me feel so much better about myself?
{our neighborhood in paris}
another thing: on monday, upon arrival back home, i went to the grocery and stocked up on fruits and veggies and cheese and all kinds of other healthy food items with plans of making wonderful salads to eat all week long, inspired by the fresh ingredients and delectable dishes i’d been consuming in europe the past couple weeks. which is all fine and dandy, until i realize that it’s friday and i haven’t even opened the bag of spinach, cut open the watermelon, nor touched the cilantro or the other purchased ingredients. i have eaten a boring peanut butter sandwich every day for lunch, and i’ve gone out to eat with friends or family every single night this week. as wonderful as it is to be catching up with the people in my life, i hate that this scenario epitomizes americans – and me – in one way or another: lofty goals of being “healthy” but a lack of follow-through or persistence. going out to eat all the time. buying two weeks worth of food at the grocery store instead of buying fresh from the market every day… and then being wasteful and throwing away half of it. as a person who came from a family that really discouraged waste, i cringe thinking about throwing away half a bag of lettuce that got slimy before i could eat it or a chunk of cheese that turned moldy in my fridge, knowing that i could have planned better, yet the shameful realization is that i do it all the time. part of this is living alone, but part of it is having eyes that are bigger than my stomach and buying more groceries than i need and eating out a lot because i’m meeting friends or am being lazy or don’t feel like eating a salad. it’s disgusting to me, the realization of it all. and it is at these times that i hate myself for fitting the stereotype of a fat, wasteful american and wish to fly across the atlantic and never return. [so never returning might be a bit of an exaggeration but i would sometimes love to take a break from the u.s.a., just for a while]. maybe, just maybe, i’d learn a thing or two from those thin, resourceful, green europeans.
but then i have to remember everything i love about america, about texas, about dallas. the [english-speaking] people, and the southern hospitality that makes everyone feel at home. gentlemen who open the door for you. the prices [at least compared to europe!], and the fact that you can buy a 50-ct package of makeup wipes or a 60-pack of toilet paper, rather than one week’s worth. the ability to jump in my own car, drive to the grocery store/pharmacy/mall/doctor’s office/wherever i need to go whenever i need to go without having to worry about walking for blocks in the stifling heat/pouring rain/icy cold or struggling to find a parking spot [most of the time]. my spacious condo. the casual american style. swimming pools everywhere. mexican food, tex-mex. peanut butter. american coffee. the space, the freedom, the opportunities, the job market. the individualism that is not only acceptable, but encouraged. the mentality that you can live how you want to live. this is america. and i love it. i never want to take for granted how lucky i am to live here, or discount the fact that this is an amazing country to live in. because it absolutely is, and it will always be home for me, no matter where i live in the world. as much as i can harp on annoying american habits, i’m so very, very proud to be an american.
{my cousin and me watching the USA v. germany game in france}
so today, i will cherish my memories of europe, but i will be glad to be in the great USA. i will be thankful for my family and friends and my job and my country. i will be confident and optimistic, and i’ll make a salad and go for a walk, too. xoxo