I am in California.
Air travel to get here was mercifully short, although the unfortunate presence of thunder storms around the Dallas/Ft. Worth airport delayed my connecting flight by about four hours and trampled the dinner plans my family had for me. I deplaned in San Diego at about nine PM, and met my aunt at the terminal. My eyes were so traumatized from the processed air in the plane's cabin that I couldn't tell for sure if it was her until I was thirty feet away and she started waving. Long story short, I made it back to the States in one piece.
Today, we drove up to Julian, a little mountain town famous for its annual apple pie festival. The goal was to collect some authentic Hinchliff farms soaps and shampoos, manufactured by my relatives and highly desired by my mother. Unfortunately, the shop was closed. After a short conversation about Africa with a German/Dutch jeweler next door, we dined on some of the famous apple pie across the street, visited a cute(sy) bird store, and left. We were headed for my Uncle Tim's house in the hills nearby, with instructions to call him for directions.
We called. The line was busy. So we decided to try and navigate the labyrinthine complex of dirt roads that somehow led to his house. We failed, rather abjectly, to find anything but many horse ranches, and even more treacherous roads. After nearly an hour of driving, calling, asking directions from neighbors, and generally being clueless, we gave up. As we drove down the highway back towards civilization, we called one last time. His line was still busy.
We arrived back in Escondido, and had some decaffeinated tea with crackers and brie cheese. That was about one hour ago. Now I am preparing to eat a dinner of hummous, tzatziki, and spanakopita. What a change from rice and beans! Or the eggs and bread I have been eating for the past week!
The almost unnatural cleanliness and general order of the States is really very unusual for me. Especially here in southern California, where lawns are tidier than the Queen Mother's washroom and every other car is an SUV the size of a Costa Rican dwelling. I feel a little guilty about being able to get whatever delicacy I could possibly desire from a local supermarket, and come home, via car, to an air-conditioned, clean house on a paved street. And hot water everywhere. And washers and dryers in the house. And lots of pavement. And no rivers. And television.
It's been almost thirty six hours since I boarded my plane in San Jose. Slow-acting culture shock is settling in.
Air travel to get here was mercifully short, although the unfortunate presence of thunder storms around the Dallas/Ft. Worth airport delayed my connecting flight by about four hours and trampled the dinner plans my family had for me. I deplaned in San Diego at about nine PM, and met my aunt at the terminal. My eyes were so traumatized from the processed air in the plane's cabin that I couldn't tell for sure if it was her until I was thirty feet away and she started waving. Long story short, I made it back to the States in one piece.
Today, we drove up to Julian, a little mountain town famous for its annual apple pie festival. The goal was to collect some authentic Hinchliff farms soaps and shampoos, manufactured by my relatives and highly desired by my mother. Unfortunately, the shop was closed. After a short conversation about Africa with a German/Dutch jeweler next door, we dined on some of the famous apple pie across the street, visited a cute(sy) bird store, and left. We were headed for my Uncle Tim's house in the hills nearby, with instructions to call him for directions.
We called. The line was busy. So we decided to try and navigate the labyrinthine complex of dirt roads that somehow led to his house. We failed, rather abjectly, to find anything but many horse ranches, and even more treacherous roads. After nearly an hour of driving, calling, asking directions from neighbors, and generally being clueless, we gave up. As we drove down the highway back towards civilization, we called one last time. His line was still busy.
We arrived back in Escondido, and had some decaffeinated tea with crackers and brie cheese. That was about one hour ago. Now I am preparing to eat a dinner of hummous, tzatziki, and spanakopita. What a change from rice and beans! Or the eggs and bread I have been eating for the past week!
The almost unnatural cleanliness and general order of the States is really very unusual for me. Especially here in southern California, where lawns are tidier than the Queen Mother's washroom and every other car is an SUV the size of a Costa Rican dwelling. I feel a little guilty about being able to get whatever delicacy I could possibly desire from a local supermarket, and come home, via car, to an air-conditioned, clean house on a paved street. And hot water everywhere. And washers and dryers in the house. And lots of pavement. And no rivers. And television.
It's been almost thirty six hours since I boarded my plane in San Jose. Slow-acting culture shock is settling in.
posted by cody @ 8:15 PM
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