Being abroad- even when it hurts

Now, here is a subject that I haven’t brought up yet- and as we’re nearing the end of the first part of our emotional journey together, perhaps its time.

Homesickness.

Homesickness is a natural reaction to living abroad. I don’t think that on all of this great big beautiful earth there is a person who loves Italy as much as I do, or was so motivated to come here. But sometimes its hard.

I was recently with my Mother in Switzerland, where we have a cousin who lives near Lugano. My cousin Elyse is someone who, even if she doesn’t know, I always remember admiring as a youngster. Elyse was that brave American who picked up and moved across the ocean at a time when people well, didn’t. Anyway, when I was young, I remember looking at Elyse like Ellis Island Immigrants would look at a banana for the first time. Oddly exotic but something that I knew I wanted to try. I looked up to her, and thought, if she could make the move- maybe I can too one day.
Anyway, we were in a beautiful piazza enjoying a caffè freddo and my Mom asked Elyse if “America just seemed like a distant childhood memory”. Good question- and the kind of question that my Mom was asking in part to gauge my reaction.

“Yes”, Elyse answered, strangely enough yes.

This brings me to my point (long winded as always but here is my point). When I moved across the ocean, I had every intention of staying here forever. I love the life I have created around work, friends, my apartment, my neighbourhood and my city- but fundamentally, I am an American. Do I want the first 23 years I spent in the US to be a footnote to my life- or, do I want this experience to be a chapter of my personal history?

Then there are the stupid things- I’ve had a craving for a Chiptole burrito with corn salsa and steak for about 3 months now, with no way to cure myself. I even tried to have said burrito integrated into my blogging contract here to no avail. I really miss Bravo reality TV- Top Chef and Project Runway, and while these are minor things that arguably mean nothing in the long run, sometimes the accumulation of small things can make you really miss the normalcy of life on Long Island.