Thanks to the generosity of the Berkeley, I recently I got the chance to step foot on American soil three months before my originally scheduled return.
I won’t lie, I was a bit worried about return to America part 1 would steal some of the thunder from return to America part 2: The big one. I’ve been fantasizing about this day for a while now. My family in the airport, waiting on pins and needles with their gift of roses and Conecuh sausages. Me emerging through security, swathed is some Balinese type scarves, weary but resilient. There would be tears. There would be champagne. There would be pork!
Originally I began to write a long narrative detailing my whirlwind seven-day trip ( four of those days were spent in the troposphere), but honestly I was bored to tears writing and I knew the feeling would be mutual for my tens of readers. So instead I decided to detail some of the conversational highlights from my journey. Some of these might be slightly embellished for comedic effect, most are the sad truth.
Older white gentleman next to me on the plane: How did you learn such good English?
Me: I’m American
Older white gentleman next to me on the plane: Oh I’m so sorry! I thought you were Papuan. I’ve been working in Papua for 30 years.
Me: happens all the time
Stewardess: coffee, tea, juice? <During morning beverage rounds>
Me: Do you have red wine?
Stewardess: <look of judgment>
Custom agent: Welcome back!
Me: U.S.A! <With accompanying first pump>
Dad on phone: Hey boo how’s it feel to be back?
Me: It feels like freedom!
Me: Excuse me where’s Market street?
Homeless man: You have a sweet ass
Me: Thank you! It feels so good to hear that in English
Mom: Why are you sitting in front of the heating vent? And why is it 90 degrees in here?
Me: Did you know it’s still winter in America?!?
Me talking to myself out loud because that’s what I do in Indonesia: Ugh the BART ( SF’s version of the subway) makes me really uncomfortable, the seats are too soft. Also why aren’t the trains color coded if the map is? And why am I being forced to read?
Me: ok this is going to sound terrible…but there are a lot of homeless people in SF
Julie: I was surprised by that too. But then I realized you often don’t know if people are homeless or just leftover hippies.
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