Nomad

"You droppin' that off?" he asks.

"Yes, sir," I respond.

He mocks me: "Okay, ma'am."

"Sorry, I'm from the South."

I said I was from the South today. Today when Philadelphia drivers made me so incredible angry (it's called a turn signal and NOT using the exit lane as your own personal fast lane, jerks!), I told the guy at the UPS store that I was from the South. And it's kind of a lie.

I hate the "Where are you from?" question. I'm not "from" anywhere. I mean, yes, technically, I'm from Puerto Rico. I was born there, it's the one place that I've gone back to over and over again. No matter where I've actually lived, Puerto Rico feels like going home. But it's not really where I'm from. Not in the sense of feeling that kind of intimate connection to a place and the people there. I look at my cousins, at the closeness they share, and I long for it. I get this nostalgia for what could have been if only my parents had stayed there - then I wouldn't've been the foreign cousin who came to visit every summer. Puerto Rico would've been mine. My place.

But it's not.

We left. We went to Virginia for six months, then moved to Montgomery, a suburb of Chicago in the dead of winter. Yes, y'all: in the dead of winter. I was nearly five. We lived there until I was 13, and I grew attached. We moved once while we were in Illinois, from Montgomery to Aurora, but it was the same general area. We could drive past the old house, visit our old friends, see the old haunts. I learned to ride a bike there, learned to speak English there, decided I wanted to be a writer, archeologist, fashion designer, doctor there. Lots of things happened to me in Illinois. I still have a soft spot in my heart for Aurora, for Chicago - my gosh, I love that city! - but I don't feel attached anymore. How could I? It's been fifteen years and I've only been back once for a conference in Chicago, far from the areas I used to visit as a child.

When we moved to Germany the day after my eighth grade graduation, I identified with Chicago. When people asked where I was from, I said, "Chicago," because none of us Army brats in Germany were really FROM Germany, you know? And then I spent three years in Heidelberg, picking up German, taking family road trips across Western Europe instead of across the US, snacking on döner kebab and Haribo and spezi. I shopped at H&M and Ikea before they came Stateside and listened to entirely too much Europop and techno.

We went back to Virginia after that stint in Germany, and I remember the culture shock all too well. Y'all, I was still wearing my Spice Girls inspired looks; I didn't realize the Americas had moved on. It took me a long time to get used to VA. I don't know if it was being back in the States, being about to graduate from high school, or living in the South, but everything felt foreign and restricting and I hated it for a long time. But then something happened: I kept going back to VA: after college, after Mission Year, briefly after grad school, and I fell in love. It was the proximity to DC, the incredible diversity, the good conversations about current events and politics that did it for me. Northern VA is an amazing place. Just Southern enough, I think, and very cosmopolitan as far as suburban sprawl goes.

And in the meantime, I've been in MD, Costa Rica, Atlanta, and Philly. I feel like each place has left an impression on me.

Puerto Rico is my center - the closest thing to home. Illinois gave me the easy, modulated English and taught me to pronounce Chicago "Shi-caaaaaaaah-go". Germany opened my eyes to the world, gave me the travel bug, peppered my speech with German phrases, and gave me space to roam and explore. NoVA reintroduced me to my love of all things political, put authentic international cuisine at my fingertips, and taught me to drive aggressively - uh, I mean defensively. Maryland taught me I hate winter and small towns. Atlanta nurtured my penchant for long, languid days, my ability to deal with humidity, and the ability to mimic a great Southern accent. Costa Rica made me more confident in my Spanish, let me swim in two oceans,and gave me space to take risks and face the consequences. Philly gave me my Masters, my husband, a chip on my shoulder, and a feeling of superiority because at least I can MERGE! (I'm [mostly] kidding about the last part.)

But here's what I'm missing: a real, strong connection to place. The safety of lifelong friendships with anyone who doesn't share my DNA. The security of knowing I belong to a place.

This morning I woke up to a facebook friend request from my eighth grade boyfriend. I look at his page and see he's still in touch with a lot of the kids from my class. They're mostly in IL, it seems, still friends - at least on facebook. And here I am, fifteen years later with no connection to that past. None. And I don't know if that's good or bad or what. I just know it made me miss something. Place. Home. An easy answer to "Where are you from?".

But then I think about what my life would've been like if I'd been in the same place all my life, if I hadn't gotten a three year European adventure paid for by the US government, if I hadn't learned to pack a house in a matter of days, if I hadn't learned a third language and found places that fostered my ethnic identity.... I wouldn't be this person, the person I am today.

So there's nostalgia, yes, but there's also the recognition that all this movement, the connections that I've made, the connections that have broken because of time and space, the nomadic nature of my life have all taught me so many things. I've lived, I've learned. So I'm still floating, still disconnected from place, but mostly okay with it.

Our house, in the middle of our street

Pics of the apartment, as promised.
Me with my roommate at the front door

The view from the front hallway

View of the living room from the back hallway

The kitchen


And now for my room:
My bed

My desk - by the foot of my bed - and my dresser

My "reading nook"

The front window and bookshelf. You can see the curtain that I hung all by myself.


And finally, my attempts at hanging pictures without a level:
Some above my bed - obviously crooked and off-centered.

Some more in my reading area, looking better.

I'm in PA!

The move was a success. We drove up yesterday, made it in about three/four hours, and I spent last night here at the apartment by my little self. I unpacked to my heart's content, watched "The Bodyguard" like a big cheeseball, got scared going to the bathroom on the other side of the apartment in the middle of the movie (took a flashlight), and finally went to sleep around 3:45 am.

This morning, I woke up around nine to sunlight in my room (LOVE IT!), took a bath - my first in YEARS, and finished unpacking. We also managed to get the internet set up here, at least until S., our upstairs neighbor, moves next month. After that, we'll see what we do.

My room is all set up, I'm getting settled, and I'm excited for classes to start. Also, I'm nervous and miss G-F. Awww....

All in all: so far, so good.

I'll be sure to post pics of the apartment before I get too busy with school stuff.

Almost there....

I spent last night with my "Foreign Language Friends". We had dinner and spoke Spanish so that M could practice and C could learn. It reminded me of just why I loved working at G-F. I seriously couldn't have worked with a better group. K, one of the new Spanish teachers (and there are a lot) and the new department head, is also cool. I'm glad to know that there will be more good people joining the group, though I will miss being there.
Other than that, I got caught up on the G-F gossip - always fun.

Today I went to the clinic (finally!) and feel much better. I also took care of a few more pending issues and enjoyed pho' at my favorite Vietnamese place where they know me and know what I like. I really heart that place....

I'm just about set to go. Orientation starts the 25th and classes start the 27th. Holy geez, kids: I'm going back to school.... It's strange to be on the other side of the desk after all these years (three, but still). Alright, I'm getting back to packing mode.

Countin' down

I'm moving to the Philly area in FIVE days. I'll be on the road on Saturday, if all goes according to plan. My room is a wreck of boxes and half-packed ish. It'll all get done, I'm sure. Nerves are kicking in, I won't lie. But it'll all work out.



There is obviously something wrong with this countdown.

Any help would be greatly appreciated....

Before leaving....

Some things I'd like to do before I leave VA:

1. Learn to shoot a gun. Not that it has anything to do with moving to the Philly area, just something I've been wanting to do for a while - even though I hate guns, even if I never own one. I just want to say that I know how to use one.

2. Hit up Old Town Alexandria and try either the Greek place or the Lebanese place that I keep meaning to try, except that I just really stinkin' love Casablanca (fabulous Moroccan place).

3. Go to my pho' spot one more time and eat there - no carry out. I'll enjoy my usual pho ga and che. YUM! Also, eat at Taste of Tandoor and El Charro one more time. Geez, I love food!

4. Go to a museum and really enjoy it - no kiddies running around and hitting eachother or whining about how much they have to walk. Bask in the glory of FREE museums and the wealth of information stored there.

5. Admit, once and for all, that, no matter what happens, I have become an East Coast chica and a proud resident of NOVA - even if it is the southern end of NOVA. So much unexpected diversity here in VA, so much good food, such an important area in terms of national and world events. I'll enjoy the fact that people here know politics, have opinions, and are generally well-informed about such issues. Believe, that is a luxury not found in most parts of this country. I <3 VA.... Who knew it'd happen?!

One step forward, two steps back...

It's official, folks.
I live with my parents.
Remember the time I said I was leaving and wouldn't be back? Yeah... eating those words now. So far, it's not as bad as I expected, but it's only been a week. In some ways though, I feel like I suck at life; like this week, and the finality of unpacking my stuff, have somehow cancelled out all the years I've lived on my own. Like all that erases all my years of living like a responsible adult and paying rent. It erases all of my contributions to society. It erases my effectiveness as an adult.
I know. I'm ridiculous. I realize I am still as productive a citizen in my parents' house as I was while paying (too much) rent for a (craptacular) condo. I realize I can still call them my roommates, if I want to sound cooler. ;) I realize that I'm still all the things that I was before (AND frugal). It's a pride thing that I'm wrestling with.
This is what I never wanted to do, and yet, here I am. There should be no shame in this, but I'm struggling with it. The funny thing is that in my own culture, I would've been home until the day I got married.
It's temporary. A sign of my commitment to grad school, to moving to Philly, to pursuing a dream....
A necessary hardship.
Five months.
It won't be that bad.
Right?



PS - Points if you can name the song I was humming after typing the title. Bonus points if you don't judge me for it. ;)

Moving....

I'm exhausted. Thursday rocked, Friday sucked, and I'm moving this weekend.

Not moving everything, mind you, just all the essentials. I'll be back for the furniture later.

This is all part of my plan to save money for grad school, which will begin in August. Geez, there is something absolutely terrifying about moving back in with the parents. I've been gone since I was 18 and I'm now 25, nearly 26. It's been a loooong time of no supervision, coming and going as I please, and listening to cds with parental advisories.

My parents are SO Puerto Rican. Sometimes I worry that I'll have to answer to them about every dime I spend and everything I do. Did I say sometimes? I worry about that A LOT. Don't get me wrong, my parents are wonderful people - my mother is one of my best friends - but they are still parents. They don't always remember that they've already done their job, and done it well.

So yeah, basically, I'll be around less often as I transition.

Wish me luck!