We have been in Kalifornien for almost a month and have most of our stuff out. I say “out” instead of “put away,” because my husband waged a very personal, bloody war against the cardboard boxes that at least provided a little bit of order – I mean, they WERE labeled and stackable – and now all of our possessions are all over the floor. Surprisngly no actual blood was spilled. He managed to gut a couple dozen boxes without injury, yet he can’t even look at a cheese grater without part of his thumb falling off.
Now here we are with stubbed toes (me) and a burning desire to go to IKEA already (again me) so we can get all of this stuff off the floor once and for all. Or, at least until next school year. There have been some things to get used to, some reverse culture shock, which I bet most expats will tell you is much harder than regular, ol’ culture shock. In fact, I’ve sat down to write this post so many times I’ve lost count. There seems to be so much and yet so little to say. I still get nervous leaving things to do on a SUNDAY. How could we possibly pick-up those rice noodles I forgot to buy yesterday? What do you mean we can just get them at Whole Foods tomorrow? Is it a Verkaufsoffenesontag? No, we just live in the AMERICA now where G-d is totally ok with you shopping on Sunday, but if two men hold hands its the END OF THE WORLD. And why can’t items be tagged with the real price, not their pre-tax price. I’m sure the first store-clerk I bought something from thought I was deranged until I realized my mistake.
And what about S? She will very simply tell you that she is from Germany. When we did finally go to IKEA she cried because she didn’t want to take the car; she wanted to go in the bus. I think she is the only person in the history of the BVG to miss bus 248, but there you go. That’s my Mäuschen.