first time true homesickness. Not for friends or family, but for home:
America. This is the first time in my life I have been unable to
celebrate the 4th of July, not because I am sick in bed, or for lack of
being invited to a friend’s house for a barbeque, but because I
accepted a job in Europe 5 months ago. I am a new expatriate. I am
living over 3,000 miles away from my country.
There are many reasons why I did this, most of which I have not shared
with anyone. When asked, I tell people I wanted to travel, or that I
wanted to live in another country, and leave it at that. What I really
wanted to do was experience first-hand the rest of the world that
exists outside of the United States. I wanted to broaden my worldview,
have an open mind, and see things from a different perspective. I
wanted to learn another language. And of course I do want to travel, to
see and explore the world while I am young and able-bodied, and not
through a tour bus window when I am 75. More recently, however, I was
becoming increasingly disgusted with the over-indulgent and
materialistic American lifestyle, and for this reason I began feeling
(at times) embarrassed that I was American. I was ashamed to be in the
same category of people, some of whom care for nothing but things
and are extremely self-involved. It saddened me that I felt like this,
and I wanted to distance myself from it.
Watching Jay Leno last year, I was appalled when a photo of Kim Jong-Il
was shown to a man on the street and he guessed that it was William
Hung. More photos were shown, including one of our new vice-president,
to other random pedestrians, all who failed miserably at recognizing
these well-known faces from around the world. This was not funny to me,
but humiliating. But they knew who Kim Kardashian was.
I did not want to end up like that. To quote the band Greenday “I don’t want to be an American idiot.” I began looking for
international
work, found it, and moved away in January 2010, much to the surprise,
excitement and support from my friends, co-workers and family members
for this new chapter in my life.
Am I glad that I did it, that I left? Absolutely. I have not regretted
it for a minute. It was the best decision that I have ever made. I
willingly gave up my own American lifestyle, more modest than most, but
still more than what a lot of people have – my own apartment, a nice
car, and a good job – for something that was more important to me:
becoming familiar with how the rest of the world lives, and having that
valuable first-hand experience to take with me for the rest of my life.
I am glad that I was brave enough to truly step outside of my comfort
zone and give up my material possessions. As a result I am finally able
to experience new places, cultures, traditions, languages and people,
and see how they live. I am now the outsider, I am the foreigner, I am
the minority, I am the one who has to learn, and observe, and I love
every day of it. My lifestyle is simpler now, but I am content. I am
living my dream, but not without sacrifice.
I knew that living so far from home (i.e., my family) would not bother
me as I have lived away before – but always within the USA. After all,
I am just an airplane ride away. What I never expected was feeling a
sense of longing for my country,
and for the positive aspects of American culture that I never realized
were such a huge part of my life until I left. I miss baseball, and I
am not even into sports! Little things like this have taken me by
surprise. And as I sat at my desk at 2am, watching a favorite old movie
of mine starring Ronald Reagan” This is the Army- I cried as I
listened to Kate Smith sing God Bless America. At 4am, as I watched
last year’s fireworks display in Washington DC on YouTube, I cried, as
it is the closest I will come to celebrate being an American this year.
As I read on Facebook what my friends and family are doing this holiday
weekend, I missed being home to take part in the festivities. I
miss now what I did not realize I had before, because I had never lived
without it: my country.
Now that I am away, holidays like Memorial Day, Veterans’ Day, and
even
Flag Day have more meaning to me, more than just having a 3 day weekend
if we are lucky. These are days set aside to honor the men and women
who have worked so hard and given their lives so that America can be
what it is today. I had bouts of homesickness on these holidays as
well, which again, I was not expecting, but today has been the most
difficult and most emotional day for me since I have been here; I sit
here weeping as I write this while the sun is coming up on this July
4th.
Another thing that surprised me was realizing that I have never owned
an American flag, and wishing so badly that I had one. I did not think
to bring one with me when I moved here. I have never had the desire to
hang one on US holidays, until now. Or maybe I had just never thought
of it, since I saw the flag everywhere at home. It was just another
seemingly insignificant thing that I took for granted. Not anymore. I
now know how special and meaningful it is for an individual to display
their patriotism and show that they are proud to be an American (or any
nationality). Having one to hang from my balcony today would have made
things a little less painful, a little less sad. I would not have felt
so far from home.
My first experience of feeling far from home came this winter while I
was out with my friend. We were enjoying ourselves and dancing along
with everyone else when I saw 4 guys come in dressed in US Air Force
jumpsuits as costumes.
They were not speaking English. They were not in the US Air Force. They
were not American and they were definitely not fighting for my country.
These men were out partying while dressed in uniforms that American men
and women have the honor and privilege of wearing while serving,
defending and dying for their country. This. made. me. so. angry.
(This would also be a good time to mention that I am living in neutral
Switzerland, while my country is at war. That did not help the
situation any.) I had to fight back the tears of rage that almost
spilled over, along with the urge to give them a piece of my mind. And
I felt alone, knowing that I was probably the only person in the
building that night who felt that way. But I was proud of my country
that night, and proud to be an American. I was grateful to have that
experience, even if it ruined my stupid fun. While these guys may not
have meant to be disrespectful or ignorant, it offended the hell out of
me. I am glad for these moments and these realizations because it makes
me a better person. It makes me appreciate more deeply and on a
different level than what many people are aware of, or will ever
experience themselves. This is the precise reason why I left – so that
I can grow as a human being, and see things from outside the box. If I
was in the States and this had happened, I would have thought nothing
of it.
I do not know how long I will stay here. Maybe five years, maybe
forever. But I will always come home to visit, and I know that the
moment I touch down at Boston’s Logan Airport this Christmas, I will
start crying then, too, if for nothing more than by simply being back
on American soil for the first time in almost a year.
Happy birthday, America! I love you. I miss you. I will see you soon.
