Readjusting to being home has been harder than I thought it would be. It's been four days since I returned to Philadelphia, and I'm still incredibly jetlagged and confused.
I went shopping with my Mom and sister on Monday afternoon. At one point, a woman was in the same aisle as us, talking loudly on her cell phone. Of course, she was speaking in clear English, making it impossible to shut her out. I pined for the constant din of incomprehensible Italian I had peacefully ignored on the streets of Roma.
Later, when I had to ask the cashier for help unlocking an item I wanted to buy, it took everything to resist greeting her with "Buongiorno" and answering her questions with "Si" and "Grazie."
Using a credit card was strange, too. If the cashier hadn't told me "You can swipe your card now," I probably would have just kept staring dumbfounded at the machine. (In Europe, I was never allowed to swipe my own credit card--the cashier always did it for me). It took me a moment to remember which direction to slide my card and that I could sign right on the screen (there was always a separate receipt to sign in Italy and no way to sign electronically).
Other things have been hard to adjust to, too. I keep looking for the flush button on the wall, forgetting that most American toilets have the tank attached and the flush as a lever on the tank. After four months without a TV (except in some of the hotels we stayed at on trips), 500 channels have been overwhelming. It didn't take long to hate having to drive everywhere, but I knew even in Italy that this would bother me about coming home. Also, I keep wanting to fearlessly cross the street by just going wherever there is a small break, large enough for Italians but too small for American drivers, and I have to remind myself I'm not in Italy anymore.
On Sunday, I got a Chipotle burrito (oh, how I missed them!) for lunch. It was the weirdest thing to just sit down in the restaurant, without having to pay extra. Part of me just wanted to stand at the counter-height table where we were sitting on stools; it felt so strange to sit and eat my lunch.
Grocery stores are enormous. It's amazing how much easier it is to shop in Italy, where you are only presented with three or four brands of the same type of food at max to choose from (except for pasta). I went to buy shampoo and conditioner (I left mine in Italy) and was overwhelmed by the long aisle of various scents, formulae for different hair types, and brands. At least when I went to the coffee aisle to buy a can of Italian espresso, the selection of real, imported ones was much more limited. Though I miss going to a local bar for a daily cappuccino, I have still been able to enjoy the drink with my new moka pot and cappuccino frother that I brought home with me.
At least there are still some parts of Italy, like cappuccinos and authentic recipes, that I was able to bring home with me. And of course, all of my memories.
Every morning when I wake up, I imagine myself in a different part of Rome and picture the walk back to either our apartment or studio in my mind. I guess it's kind of like the ancient Roman method of memorizing speeches that we learned about in history: imagining each part of the speech being spoken in a different part of the city during practice and then walking through the speech in one's mind when presenting it. I don't care about speeches, I'm just determined to never forget my home in Rome.
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