This past month has been rush after rush. It was completely packed full from day to day. Even though we didn't do much on our honeymoon, it was still out of the country. Packing, unpacking, packing. It gets quite tiring moving sometimes. I always forget how utterly exhausting it is to travel. Let's take our trip home as an example. On Friday we checked out of Great Huts and drove 4-5 hours to our next hotel (the previous entry discusses that journey). We ate, showered, slept, then got up, packed again, and headed to the airport. After dropping the car off, we went through bag drop, passport control, security, then did a bit of shopping in the airport. On our 3 hour journey to Philadelphia we had a row of small children in front of us and behind us. All 4 of the kids were screaming or crying at some point.
Sorry, I am going to go off on a tangent. I have a GREAT new invention for airplanes. Instead of letting people with small children sit near everyone else, they should have a special, soundproof room with seats and space for kids to crawl in the back. That way the families are happy and the rest of the plane doesn't have to walk off with a headache because a mom wasn't prepared enough with snacks or games. I know babies just cry sometimes, but none of these kids were babies. They could all talk and mostly screaming for attention. Okay, back to the main topic.
So I got off the plane in Philadelphia with a headache, but we still had to go through U.S. border control, customs, re-check our bags, then go through security AGAIN. By the time we were through security our flight was supposedly boarding in 5 minutes. We ran to the gate but of course boarding was late. After finding some quick American food, we got back in time for our boarding zone to be called. We quickly got on and were able to change seats so that Paul and I could sit together. The flight took off at 6:15pm. It was an 8 hour flight, and a "red-eye". They started 3 different movies before showing all the same movies I had watched on my way out. I settled on reading (The Girl Who Played With Fire), then eventually napping on Paul. I had originally tried to nap on the trey table which actually works quite well for me. This time however, I was sitting behind the most obnoxious man in the world who kept pushing back on his already reclining chair and squashing my head. An hour later I choose Pauls shoulder instead.
8 hours later we had arrived in Zurich. Border Patrol again, then bag pick up. They only managed to get one of our bags to us from when we dropped them in back after customs in Philadelphia. Why am I not surprised? This is the 4th time my bags have been lost coming into Switzerland. At least we are home and we have clothes and shoes we can use. We then caught a direct 2.5 hour train to Lausanne, then our local bus, then we were home.
HOME. It's such an interesting idea. People throughout our trip kept asking me, "Where are you from?" and I had to respond with, "Now that's a complicated question. Do you mean where do I live now? Where did I grow up? Where I've lived in the last 5 years?" When most people (in a different country) who ask the, "Where are you from" question actually want to know where you were born and raised. If I told them "Switzerland" immediately they might think I am Swiss. I don't want any of that confusion to be going around. Now if someone asked me where was my "home" that would be easy. Although I often think of Torrance as home, I realized when I came back to Lausanne after almost a month of absence, this is really my home. I had missed my friends, the reliable trains, the fresh food, and the beautiful sights. I missed my bed and (sigh) my awesome Macbook Pro. There is something to be said for having your stuff organized somewhere, knowing a place so well that you can walk through the place at night and almost never run into anything (unless your husband has moved a piece of furniture to an unexpected place).
I think this questions of, "where are you from" should be changed. I am afraid as time goes on it will only be more complicated to answer. It is not like Paul and I are both British or both American. No matter where we live (as long as we are together), there will never be a time when both of us are living in our "home" countries. It makes things a bit more difficult but certainly more interesting. I guess I should be grateful that I am a chatty person and can quickly explain our strange circumstances. Here is a sample of how pretty much all of these conversations go.
Random Stranger: "Where are you from?"
Me: "Well we live in Switzerland"
RS: "Oh so you are Swiss" (sometimes people say Swedish)
Me: "No I'm American"
RS:"Oh you two are Americans! Where from?"
Me: "Well I grew up in Torrance, near L.A., but I haven't lived there since I was 18. My husband is British. He's from Newcastle"
RS: (Blank stare)
Me: "Nescastle is up north, near Scotland."
RS: "Oh yes, I've been to London once about 15 years ago"
Me: "Oh that's so interesting"
So in the end, what was the point of the conversation? I guess people are just trying to make connections, to understand where we are coming from. Maybe it is just all the long traveling and the long day that makes me tired. But I think we should think of a more interesting question to ask people we just meet. How about, "What are you passionate about?" or "What's the best book you've ever read?" I certainly think those would have more exciting answers than the tired old "where are you from" spiel.
So this blog is all over the place, but I guess what I am getting at is that it is nice to be home, with good water pressure and a place to eat my salads and fruit. I'm sure in a week I will miss vacation and Jamaica, but by then we will be in Edinburgh. I'm sure I will meet many more lovely people who will want to know where I'm from. I've got to come up with a better response!
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