American Alien.

It is hard to believe that over 2 years have passed since I last posted an entry here (the "under construction" notice notwithstanding). I had hoped life would go back to some semblance of normal when my plane touched down on American soil a few weeks ago. But no, a strong sense of expatriatism still lingers in my veins along with the pixie dust, and I have apparently forgotten what "normal" means: I cannot adequately express here my shock when I landed in Washington, DC, to discover that African airlines work better than American ones! We are the most powerful, influential country in the world—(this is still true, right? What else have I missed in 2 years?)—and I speak from some experience now when I say that many other nations aspire to develop in our image... yet the Air Burkina
airplane I flew on (which I only half-joked with other Peace Corps volunteers would be my last bush taxi ride in Burkina) operated better, on all levels, than any American airline I have flown in years! This place, Burkina Faso, is consistently a strong contender in the "Top 3 Poorest Countries in the World" Game, but please note that its national airline can still offer me a decent meal on a timely flight. After a layover in Dakar, Senegal, I continued in similarly luxurious style, this time with a South African service. It was not until I boarded an American-run airplane for the last leg of my return home that my itinerary—and subsequent treatment by customer "service"—went all to hell. (Honestly, Dear Readers: what have you been doing with the country in my absence?)

I have been running on sheer adrenaline since my plane finally landed, driving all over New England to visit people, averaging between four and five hours of sleep a night. That's probably not good if you started out such a marathon already jet-lagged. Then, a couple weeks after my return to the United States, I drove down to New York City, the place I missed most during my self-imposed exile, to visit friends and again bask in the grimy beauty that is the Big Apple. A mere couple days after my arrival, I found myself sitting in [daughter of famous person]'s giant loft apartment, drinking champagne with her and [other famous person]. I'm not telling you this to brag (well, much), but to emphasize just how surreal my life has gotten since I left Burkina Faso. Understand what I am saying here: my life seemed more normal in Africa than in the US! Even I think that's messed up!

I came back to America woefully behind in the times (I've heard rumors of some device called an "iPhone"), with little in the way of employment prospects. Everyone my age has grown up while I was gone, getting married, babies, or houses. While I appreciate seeing my friends and family, eating the wonderful food, and watching The Dark Knight in IMAX™ (the way God intended), I just don't know where I fit in right now in America, or even if I do. Solution? Leave again, as soon as possible. And so I shall—tomorrow, in fact—for Bulgaria, then a few other countries in Eastern Europe (Romania, Hungary, Croatia, the Czech Republic), trying to clear my head and come up with some kind of game plan, all the while blowing through the meager readjustment stipend Peace Corps allotted to me when I closed my service.

Why Eastern Europe, you ask? Well, those of you who read the very first entry on this very blog, way back when, may remember how I was originally supposed to go to Eastern Europe with Peace Corps, and how I threw something of a temper tantrum when I ended up being assigned to Georgia. So Peace Corps sent me instead to West Africa for 2 years of service (and the tone the guy responsible for re-assigning me used when he informed me made it clear he considered this a punishment). Oh, and I'd just like take a moment here to say to all those people who gave me all that grief for turning down Georgia, based on certain international events of the last few weeks: I told you so. But my consuming desire to see the wild mountains of Romania never diminished... and now I have the time, and the means, to make my dream come true, if only for a month.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not down on America. This is a very exciting time to be American, for all the obvious reasons that need not be re-hashed here. It's just that I haven't quite figured out how to, well, become "American" again, and I need a chance to readjust, and to reassess what exactly I am going to do, now that I am no longer being directed. Rest assured, Dear Readers, I will come back to the US again, this next time for good, perhaps. But until then: the adventure continues! Come along, why don't you?