It's been just over two weeks. I should've been on a plane back to Paris by now, but I'm back in my old cubicle in California, where there's plenty of sunshine, triple-digit heat, and plenty of air conditioning. The French consulate doesn't have all my paperwork yet (they blame all the May holidays in France), so my stay here has been extended for what looks to be an extra couple of weeks while the bureaucracy gets things in order.
The only trouble is... Alannah and I really miss Paris.
It started early on - pretty much at Charles de Gaulle Airport, where we were constantly reminded of who and what we were going home to. The feelings and thoughts stirred by the stereotypical "Ugly Americans" in Terminal 2 would probably be too foulmouthed and shocking, even for this blog.
It was no better when we landed in San Francisco. While the passport control agent was remarkably friendly and light-hearted, US customs officials were their typical rude, boneheaded, uneducated selves. And then there was driving on the 101 to go home. And then going shopping here. And then.. then.. there are too many headaches to list.
Certainly, it's fantastic that we've got extra time to spend with our family, friends, and old co-workers. I'm enjoying every moment I get with friends who will soon be half a world away. And I can't complain too much about the current California heatwave. And the shopping is C-H-E-A-P!
But I'm getting fed up with having to drive everywhere. With sales clerks who don't even bother to say hello. With Hillary Clinton's screeching, patronizing voice on the TV. With overly made-up news anchors. With jacked up pick-up trucks. With the idiots who drive them. WIth the insanely huge portions of mediocre food. With the fact that I'm packing on five pounds for every week I'm back in the States.
I wanna be back... home?
I don't know. I don't quite have a home right now. But I do know where I don't want to be.
Maybe a trip to LA this weekend will seal the deal for good.
