nothing really new here

Now having been home for many months, I have discovered that moving back is a tad similar to moving to.  Just like being a foreigner in a new country, we return to find out that we have to make adjustments to what we thought was known.  The one thing I craved was to be alone.  Living in a country about the size of the island where I now call home but with a greater population than my whole country made me want solitude and quiet.  Landing in one of our country's largest cities and staying there for months did not address that need.  But eventually I got here and spent an incredible summer trying to figure out how to be a gardener.  If there are marks given for gardening I scored -F.  But it was fun, it was exercise, and it entertained me for quite some time.  The end result is several beds of dirt, picked clean by the bunnies and deer.  They are not all that bright either.  If they had any amount of patience they could have scored some mighty fine veggies instead of small 2 leaf plants that they constantly raided when the farmer went to bed.

No one understood that I did not want to drive a car.  No one here knew what kind of driving I had been doing for three years in an insane country as far as driving goes.  I certainly did not want to drive a car with my precious grandchildren in it. Never sure which way to look for traffic, never sure which side of the road I was supposed to be on; especially after making a turn; was not the time to take little people for a spin in a frantic paced city where they live.

Bliss - almost - was mine when I came home to the island. Not knowing what was in store for me with the dishonest, derelict, dumb** construction workers, I made my way to the island paradise to settle in and study for final exams.  Almost having an emotional breakdown as I witnessed their stupidity and realized I could do nothing about the situation, I also realized I had to stay there to possibly avoid even worse.  Just like the famous Beetles song - I get by with a little help from my friends - I survived the ordeal. I am sure they all wanted to change their phone numbers, but they kindly talked me through the days of hell.  Thank you friends!

Now as the summer sun drops further to the south, causing me to readjust my chair when I do crossword puzzles in the morning on the verandah, I look forward to another new experience. Fall leaves.  I have not seen fall leaves for four years.  It makes me recall describing this phenomena to my Asian friends who had never seen them. They honestly did not believe that leaves can turn into the brilliant array of a crayola crayon box each year.  Come to think of it, they don't even know what crayola is.  But I am sure I am going to be magically mesmerized as I watch this annual event occur over the next few months. Living in the tropics gave me thought to ponder. After the second year of living in my house, which was directly across a road from a jungle, I looked up from my keyboard and thought 'these trees looks exactly like they did last year, in fact exactly like they looked all year'.  After a google search I discovered that although they look exactly like deciduous trees, these guys do not go through a shedding of leaves and budding of new ones. The same leaves I had looked at last year are still exactly there for me to see this year.  Being a season person it really felt strange to think that leaves do not die.

It is strange knowing that whatever I might want from the grocery store, I can have.  When away I was always thinking I had won a lottery if I found an apple or a piece of beef that resembled a steak. This became so ingrained in me that shopping here brings out the same joy when I score a fresh peach or fall apple.  I have to admit though, I do miss the fabulous fruit that I gorged myself on and switched from one to another as the seasons presented the bounty.  I think I exaggerated.  There was never a piece of beef that resembled anything other than maybe some lumps of stewing meat.  Whenever I returned for a visit I begged my friends to not serve me chicken. Chicken was the only meat that I could get there, and if prepared for me, it was 'rare'.  Having never eaten rare chicken before that, I never acquired a taste for it then or since.  It took me a long, long, time to be able to eat chicken again.

Something that puzzles me now that I am back is the background required to teach English here.  I always felt that international experience is a bonus on the resume. What I have discovered is that people are working here in this field having never stepped out of the country.  How can they understand the cultural differences of those coming here trying to fit into ours?  I am having enough difficulty myself, and I am a native.  When I hear these teachers moan about the lack of enthusiasm in the class, and lack of participation from the students I don't bother to tell them that these people need to build a relationship before they begin to participate.  I hinted at that, and was told that if they are here they have to figure out how to fit in.  I don't agree. Ooops.

I am not sure that this blog will have a long life.  Somehow I think that I have assimilated back into home, and that could become rather dreary in reporting here.