Inbetweenland

The other day my mom asked how I was.  I said I was bored.  She responded, "well of course you're bored now."

It's been roughly one week since I returned to the U.S.  I suppose I could have taken the global nomad path that some of my fellow teachers are currently on and not have returned at all.  But alas, paperwork brings me back to DC.  I have to hang out here and wait for my student visa to be issued so I can attend school in the fall.  I have to specify DC and not say "home" because at the moment I am and without a home.  Sure I have inhabited DC for the past 10 years, but everything and everyone here is so transient that it never really became home.  Right when things get comfortable, everything changes.  Salt Lake is where I grew up, but having been away for so long, there are only a few people there I still know.  So suffice it to say, I have no place to call my home at the moment.  Maybe that will change at some point in the future, but who knows.  So for now I'm in DC hanging out for a bit until my visa comes.  I hope it comes soon -- I'm bored.

This is the tough part of what is called reverse culture shock.  Coming home is always much harder than people expect it to be primarily because traveling changes you.  Or at least it should.  If it doesn't then you're doing it wrong.  Coming home is assumed to be exciting -- you get to see everyone and everything you missed!  But the downside is that not only have you changed, but home has changed.  Everything continued to evolve -- without you.  In my case this is not only true, but it is exacerbated by the fact that, like I already said, "home" is a nonexistent concept for me right now.  So I'm back and it is still great to see to everyone and everything that I missed so much.  But knowing that another round of goodbyes is just around the corner compounded with general uncertainty about what happens next makes it all the much more gut wrenching.

Now to be more positive...

One of the many good things about being stateside, other than getting to spend time with my favorite boys (though one of them is shedding all his fur off in giant tumbleweed sized balls), is getting to enjoy everything my neighborhood has to offer.  I love Cleveland Park -- hate DC, but love Cleveland Park.  This little gemstone of a neighborhood has plenty of bars and restaurants to keep one entertained and yet manages to be personal and friendly, even in the midst of hoards of tourists waddling their way to the zoo.  I love my local dive bar, I love playing pool and board games at the other bar, I love getting food from the Vietnamese, Indian, Mediterranean and Thai restaurants, and I love my grocery store (all the stock boys love my tattoo) and my liquor store (the manager always picks out my wine for me).  I also love petting other people's dogs and saying hello to my favorite panhandlers.  Sure a few things have changed while I was gone.  There is no longer an empty McDonald's sitting around looking blighted, it has finally been replaced with a new seafood restaurant.  It joins the other addition, a new steak and frites joint.  Who can complain about such changes?

I have had the luck of living in the same apartment since I graduated from college several years ago.  While everyone and everything around me drifted in and out of my life, this place remained constant.  It is quite possibly what I will miss most about DC.  I'm currently passing my days by looking for a place to live in London.  There are many challenges, but the biggest (other than finding a place that doesn't have shower in the middle on the living room) is finding a neighborhood that I will fall in love with the way I fell in love with Cleveland Park.