Home sweet home
On Friday I got back to Argentina after two weeks in the US. I walked in the door of my apartment and felt that “home again, home again” feeling. Finally: my bed, my computer, my oatmeal, my shampoo, my books. There was a part of me that hadn’t wanted to come back to the rainy cold of Buenos Aires in winter, but the weather was warm and sunny when I actually arrived, and I was glad to be here.
Oddly, I had felt the same way when I got to New York: Home at last! The familiar subways, the Indian restaurants on sixth street, the Staten Island Ferry, taking a cab across the Brooklyn Bridge – I felt I was back in my city again. I again felt I’d come home when I got to Houghton, my childhood home. And I had the same feeling on Isle Royale, where every turn in the trail to Ojibway Tower was familiar, and I seemed to know everybody I saw.
How odd to take a vacation in a distant land and at every destination feel like I’d finally come home. How odd to have so many homes.
But this trip wasn’t free of the exciting newness that normally makes travel thrilling, because I had along an Argentine for whom many things were new, and it was at least as fun showing her new things as it was seeing them myself. A hundred meters from the subway hole from which we emerged into New York City, María saw her first squirrel. And in every familiar-to-me place I visited, there were new things to show her.
A dozen new things for María:
Squirrels
Bagels
Moose
Cookies
Wolves
Pancakes
A bear
French toast
A bald eagle
$7 telephones
Starbucks
Sleeping bags
One day before boarding the plane (home) to Argentina, we did go one place that was new to me: Cambridge, Massachusetts. Supposedly, this will be my home when September rolls around:
Oddly, I had felt the same way when I got to New York: Home at last! The familiar subways, the Indian restaurants on sixth street, the Staten Island Ferry, taking a cab across the Brooklyn Bridge – I felt I was back in my city again. I again felt I’d come home when I got to Houghton, my childhood home. And I had the same feeling on Isle Royale, where every turn in the trail to Ojibway Tower was familiar, and I seemed to know everybody I saw.
How odd to take a vacation in a distant land and at every destination feel like I’d finally come home. How odd to have so many homes.
But this trip wasn’t free of the exciting newness that normally makes travel thrilling, because I had along an Argentine for whom many things were new, and it was at least as fun showing her new things as it was seeing them myself. A hundred meters from the subway hole from which we emerged into New York City, María saw her first squirrel. And in every familiar-to-me place I visited, there were new things to show her.
A dozen new things for María:
Squirrels
Bagels
Moose
Cookies
Wolves
Pancakes
A bear
French toast
A bald eagle
$7 telephones
Starbucks
Sleeping bags
One day before boarding the plane (home) to Argentina, we did go one place that was new to me: Cambridge, Massachusetts. Supposedly, this will be my home when September rolls around:
previously there was motion. new.
afterwards you have tell me where your strength lies
(si fuera una persona, sería "pelada"...pero el animal es águila calva)
Regards,
P.D.: Está bueno el background con la estación de subte de fondo...me gusta :-) [submitted on 24 Jun 03]