Give Me Pizza, or Give Me Death: Comin' to 'Murica

Last Thursday I landed in the sweet land of wonder that is 'Murica for my older brother's wedding. I have had lots of time to sit and daydream about this particular homecoming. These daydreams sometimes consisted of people dropping to their knees in utter contentment of seeing me again. The rest were about food, namely pizza. So, in a perfect world what would have happened when I first came up that ridiculously long escalator at Hartsfield-Jackson (besides seeing that girl in the towel who seemingly wants to give me a really big hug) was someone opening a box of Mellow Mushroom pizza, feeding me a slice, and saying something along the lines of "Welcome back, Champion." That is in a perfect world. What really happened was more of an anti-climatic, pizza-less experience. Such is life.

I'll be the first to admit that I'm a weird person. I'm almost positive it's a redhead's birthright. I was convinced that after living in Ethiopia for a year now, my weirdness would be exponential. In addition, I thought the American way of life would be a completely foreign concept at this point. What I had come to find, within the first moment of stepping off the airplane, is that it is not any different from when I left it except there more younger people with even nicer cellphones. I guess this feeling of familiarity could be a good and bad thing. For one, after braving the treacherous bumpy roads while dodging the unruly and unattended livestock roaming the streets, I thought I would be at ease with my mother's driving. False. There are nail indentations on the car door that proves it. I thought being able to bathe on a more appropriate and frequent basis would seem like a luxury. Nope. I thought being able to get more than one type of beer would be more exciting. No, because my brother likes to by cheap beer (though thanks for buying it for me, Matt). I thought I would say things like "Are you voluntary to hang out with me?" or "I appreciate your cooperation" or "Your TV is very attractive and interesting" or any other awkward phrases that Peace Corps Volunteers end up repeating in their sleep. On the other hand, I am still opting for the handshake/shoulder bump combo instead of the standard hug. I'm also holding my elbow when shaking someone's hand. These greetings are very unique to Ethiopia, but more or less endearing in an American context.

The weirdest part of this brief trip to the States, is that it is not weird at all. Granted I haven't lived in a bush for the past 15 years. It's only been one. It just all seems a little too easy for me to do be back here. Maybe I adapt well. Maybe I just need to get over myself. The latter is usually what needs to happen. It's only been a year, but at the same time, it's been a year in East Africa. Going back to Ethiopia may be a whole different story. I only hope that it will be just as smooth. In the meantime, I'm going to go ahead and leave my internet pages up, take a daily shower, watch On Demand, and eat pizza for breakfast all because I can. I miss my friends, work, and more simplistic lifestyle in Ethiopia though and I can't wait to be back to bucket baths, latrines, and the same thing for lunch and dinner everyday.