Whine and Cheeze:
Funny how some things guide your decisions without you really being aware of them, and even if you are aware, the subliminal influences can still be there. Over the years I have given fairly serious thought to retiring in a number of places by the sea-- Costa Rico, Belize, Ireland, Newfoundland, Mexico, even made scope it out trips -- but always lurking in the background was an expatriate malady I had heard about. As I recalled it, the onset of the disease could be sudden. Here you have been living in the Sangria La of your dreams, and one day you wake up and bam! Suddenly you are a stranger in a strange land. You sit at your favorite corner table on the balcony overlooking the sea at your favorite restaurant you were so happy to discover, the smiling server even calls you by name and says "the usual, my friend"? But for a brief, frightening instant, all you can think about is pulling up to the drive in window and ordering a Big Mac. Oh my god! What have I done? I recall reading that the episodes could even bring on acute illness. In retrospect, I think that knowledge was a major factor in my deciding not to retire outside the USA. Fortunately, I was far too clever too be caught in that trap.
"Next patient. Hello, Jim, how are you doing today?"
Well doc, not too hot, I have only written one little piece in the last two or three weeks, just can't seem to get anything done. Couple of people in the gym here and my new doctor have commented that I look like I am in good shape, but when I look in the mirror I see mostly that my stomach no longer curves in below my rib cage. Decided I was drinking and eating too much, so I cut out alcohol altogether for awhile and feel guilty if I have a snack. Kinda pissed off at the restaurant scene here, good food, but I haven't been able to find a genuine gourmet place yet. I have always been a generous tipper, and I love to flirt with the waitresses [noticed that I decided to use the gender specific term there]. I am used to them knowing me and knowing that I am not really going to ask them out; just playing. One real good steak house close by, and I swear they also have an escort service on the side. Judge for yourself: the waitress always sits down with me and makes some comment like save some of that wine for me, then two or three others will come by and say "my name is so-and-so, if you need anything at all just let me know". In another place the staff seems friendly enough, but when the talk becomes a little personal, I start getting comments about how high their rent is or how expensive their school books are. I need a young girl friend like I need another hole in my head, and lest I be tempted anyway, I don't have enough money to be a player in the sugar daddy scene. Then in some places they seem suspicious of a man eating alone and are kind of distant just to make sure you understand that this ain't that kind of place, and I ain't that kind of woman.
Then Stewball, my old cat that came with me went downhill with kidney disease pretty fast, so I had to put her down. I feel good about the decision, because I truly believe it was the kind thing to do, but I miss her terribly. I haven't really made any good friends here yet. Most of the people in my age group seem to be golfers, and if they have to travel more than 100 feet they take off in their golf carts or their Cadillac.
The people who live in my building are all much younger than I am, and I suspect they may have stereotyped me as an old person. They frequently gather on the stairs to smoke and chat and one day I stopped to have a beer with them. I noticed that they all found a way to say fuck in sort of atypical sentence structures. Then I noticed one of them glancing at me to check out how hearing the magic word affected me. This all led me to understand that there is a tiny minority new to society that no one seems to have noticed. Old Hippies. Here we are hobbling around on our arthritic joints, and we are expected to be tsk, tsking the improper behavior of these young people. My dear young people, fear not (or hope not) that you will embarrass us- not unless you have lain around in a crash pad where the only furniture are dirty mattresses, with feet that get washed when it rains, stoned on acid that Leo and Cat said came straight from Owlsley, and spend hours engaged in a loving game of mind-fuck. Not unless you and all your friends have frolicked in the fantastic fields of free love, wallowing in the smells, tastes and sights of unprotected sex, where triple digit partners was the norm, and where we didn't do everything, but we did do everything we could think of that sounded like fun. Of course this was back before sex could kill you. So we old hippies are not your regular grandparents; you are not going to embarrass or offend us, we are just sorry you can't have the fun we had.
Then there doesn't seem to be a Myrtle Beach, there are just miles and miles of hotels, all you can eat restaurants and fantasy land mini golf courses. Here and there you can find a bunch of mobile homes huddled together, and here and there a little patch of million dollar plus homes, but there is no real sense of we are Myrtle Beach ; no real community political structure to amuse me.
"Hmmmm"says the doc, looking up from his combination Merck Manual, PDR, Janet's horoscope and Farmer's Almanac. " I think you may be experiencing a mild case of culture shock. Listen to these symptoms".
Culture shock symptoms include sleeping too much or too little, apathy, depression, eating or drinking too much or too little, frequent minor illnesses, suspicion, social withdrawal or hostility, and decline in efficiency. Culture shock symptoms tend to appear within a few months after arrival, when the novelty of the new environment has worn off. Once the process of settling in gets underway in earnest, the symptoms taper off and generally disappear.
So that's the truth of it. Much to my surprise, 'I've come down with a case of homesickness. I miss the mountains, the wildlife, the birds, the snow, the quiet, the isolation, I miss knowing that I have friends nearby. I miss hiking with Minty and Abigail and Sloopy and Rocky and Marley. I miss Stewball trying to catch hummingbirds on the balcony. I miss roads with curves in them that go up and down.
"Don't be too discouraged", said the doc. It seems a young researcher has discovered a cure."
Sometimes homesickness blows in, Like a summer storm. But luckily, With each passing cloud, It ebbs further and further away. Until, Finally, I am at home again
Gross, Naomi, US American global nomad age 15, Talking Leaves: A Literary Magazine. International School of Geneva (LGB), 1993.
Funny how some things guide your decisions without you really being aware of them, and even if you are aware, the subliminal influences can still be there. Over the years I have given fairly serious thought to retiring in a number of places by the sea-- Costa Rico, Belize, Ireland, Newfoundland, Mexico, even made scope it out trips -- but always lurking in the background was an expatriate malady I had heard about. As I recalled it, the onset of the disease could be sudden. Here you have been living in the Sangria La of your dreams, and one day you wake up and bam! Suddenly you are a stranger in a strange land. You sit at your favorite corner table on the balcony overlooking the sea at your favorite restaurant you were so happy to discover, the smiling server even calls you by name and says "the usual, my friend"? But for a brief, frightening instant, all you can think about is pulling up to the drive in window and ordering a Big Mac. Oh my god! What have I done? I recall reading that the episodes could even bring on acute illness. In retrospect, I think that knowledge was a major factor in my deciding not to retire outside the USA. Fortunately, I was far too clever too be caught in that trap.
"Next patient. Hello, Jim, how are you doing today?"
Well doc, not too hot, I have only written one little piece in the last two or three weeks, just can't seem to get anything done. Couple of people in the gym here and my new doctor have commented that I look like I am in good shape, but when I look in the mirror I see mostly that my stomach no longer curves in below my rib cage. Decided I was drinking and eating too much, so I cut out alcohol altogether for awhile and feel guilty if I have a snack. Kinda pissed off at the restaurant scene here, good food, but I haven't been able to find a genuine gourmet place yet. I have always been a generous tipper, and I love to flirt with the waitresses [noticed that I decided to use the gender specific term there]. I am used to them knowing me and knowing that I am not really going to ask them out; just playing. One real good steak house close by, and I swear they also have an escort service on the side. Judge for yourself: the waitress always sits down with me and makes some comment like save some of that wine for me, then two or three others will come by and say "my name is so-and-so, if you need anything at all just let me know". In another place the staff seems friendly enough, but when the talk becomes a little personal, I start getting comments about how high their rent is or how expensive their school books are. I need a young girl friend like I need another hole in my head, and lest I be tempted anyway, I don't have enough money to be a player in the sugar daddy scene. Then in some places they seem suspicious of a man eating alone and are kind of distant just to make sure you understand that this ain't that kind of place, and I ain't that kind of woman.
Then Stewball, my old cat that came with me went downhill with kidney disease pretty fast, so I had to put her down. I feel good about the decision, because I truly believe it was the kind thing to do, but I miss her terribly. I haven't really made any good friends here yet. Most of the people in my age group seem to be golfers, and if they have to travel more than 100 feet they take off in their golf carts or their Cadillac.
The people who live in my building are all much younger than I am, and I suspect they may have stereotyped me as an old person. They frequently gather on the stairs to smoke and chat and one day I stopped to have a beer with them. I noticed that they all found a way to say fuck in sort of atypical sentence structures. Then I noticed one of them glancing at me to check out how hearing the magic word affected me. This all led me to understand that there is a tiny minority new to society that no one seems to have noticed. Old Hippies. Here we are hobbling around on our arthritic joints, and we are expected to be tsk, tsking the improper behavior of these young people. My dear young people, fear not (or hope not) that you will embarrass us- not unless you have lain around in a crash pad where the only furniture are dirty mattresses, with feet that get washed when it rains, stoned on acid that Leo and Cat said came straight from Owlsley, and spend hours engaged in a loving game of mind-fuck. Not unless you and all your friends have frolicked in the fantastic fields of free love, wallowing in the smells, tastes and sights of unprotected sex, where triple digit partners was the norm, and where we didn't do everything, but we did do everything we could think of that sounded like fun. Of course this was back before sex could kill you. So we old hippies are not your regular grandparents; you are not going to embarrass or offend us, we are just sorry you can't have the fun we had.
Then there doesn't seem to be a Myrtle Beach, there are just miles and miles of hotels, all you can eat restaurants and fantasy land mini golf courses. Here and there you can find a bunch of mobile homes huddled together, and here and there a little patch of million dollar plus homes, but there is no real sense of we are Myrtle Beach ; no real community political structure to amuse me.
"Hmmmm"says the doc, looking up from his combination Merck Manual, PDR, Janet's horoscope and Farmer's Almanac. " I think you may be experiencing a mild case of culture shock. Listen to these symptoms".
Culture shock symptoms include sleeping too much or too little, apathy, depression, eating or drinking too much or too little, frequent minor illnesses, suspicion, social withdrawal or hostility, and decline in efficiency. Culture shock symptoms tend to appear within a few months after arrival, when the novelty of the new environment has worn off. Once the process of settling in gets underway in earnest, the symptoms taper off and generally disappear.
So that's the truth of it. Much to my surprise, 'I've come down with a case of homesickness. I miss the mountains, the wildlife, the birds, the snow, the quiet, the isolation, I miss knowing that I have friends nearby. I miss hiking with Minty and Abigail and Sloopy and Rocky and Marley. I miss Stewball trying to catch hummingbirds on the balcony. I miss roads with curves in them that go up and down.
"Don't be too discouraged", said the doc. It seems a young researcher has discovered a cure."
Sometimes homesickness blows in, Like a summer storm. But luckily, With each passing cloud, It ebbs further and further away. Until, Finally, I am at home again
Gross, Naomi, US American global nomad age 15, Talking Leaves: A Literary Magazine. International School of Geneva (LGB), 1993.
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