Being home

I might be putting the cart before the horse here, but I’m not going to do a summary of my study abroad experience. At least not until I readjust to being home a little bit. But people keep asking me what its like being home, so I figured I’d describe it while it’s still.. you know, weird.

First, Colorado is beautiful… in the mountains. Where I am fortunately enough to (kind of) live. Don’t get me wrong, the foothills where my folks live is pretty when everything isn’t yellow and dead. And it’s so open! Try to imagine the contrast of going from a densely packed and colorful urban environment where you couldn’t throw a rock without hitting another human being, to a wide open mostly yellow landscape where the only other people around are your family members and neighbors, whom you can easily avoid. Then, apartments in Prague are about the size of my living room, and the sheer size of my house is kind of overwhelming. So much so, actually, that once I got back I kind of hid in my room. I wonder if Prague turned me agoraphobic, because seriously, the intense amount of space is freaking me out. And other things in the house, which is really the only place I’ve been so far, are kind of messing with me, too. For instance, I can’t just smack the light switch, I have to actively switch it. There’s too much water in toilets, and the handles are on the actual toilet instead of the wall behind it.

The next big thing that’s messing with me is how expensive the food is, and how flippantly my family will just order it. Tonight for dinner we got Noodles, and it was because cooking was inconvenient. We filled out an order online, everyone made a thousand customizations to their food (no mushrooms, extra spicy, etc), then my mom drove 10 minutes there and back to get it with my grandpa. The closest to that I got in Prague was walking a block down the street, picking up a big bowl of pho and going back. I can’t really imagine what going to the grocery store is going to be like.

I sound like I’m complaining (and I kind of am), but I will admit there are things I missed. My dogs, for one. Also, the fat one recently was diagnosed with a thyroid problem and put on pills (something I called over the summer, thank you very much) so she’s now more cuddly and interested in what I’m doing. Attentive service from waiters I missed, because they have to kiss ass for your tip or they don’t eat. Part of that is also massive drinks and free refills (the altitude is dehydrating me something fierce). And as much as I bitch, I missed my family. In three months my sister had to have grown three inches, my brother finally has a license and a car, my dad is sporting a pedo-stache that makes him look like he offers candy to kids on their way home from school, and my mom painted the house banana yellow. But nothing’s changed. My brother still curls his hands up against his chest when he’s annoyed by something we’re doing. My sister still bends over backwards for attention. And the only conversation I have with my father is affectionate antagonism (see: pedo-stache). Although he did ask this morning when I was in the basement doodling how I was adjusting, which was nice. Of course, my mom is still my mom, equal parts caregiver and smartass. She simultaneous made me tea and told me to grow a set, then gave me a sleeping pill and told me to shut my damn brain off and sleep.

I’d still rather be in Prague. But if I can’t be there, it’s good to be home.