Going native

Okay readers, I am back and it and have lots of things to tell you.
Brian and I just returned from two weeks in the U.S.

I've lived in Germany long enough that when I return to the States, some things seem to pop out (not just beer bellies).

I can appreciate the water towers, the yellow school buses, the front porches, the colorful license plates and the diners. These are the bits of "Americana" that Europeans think is so cool. Just as we would go to Germany looking for Lederhosen and castles, they'd get just as excited about a truck stop and a picket fence. For a little while, I get excited about those things too.

But it only takes a few days before I am no longer surprised when a stranger calls me 'hon.' And, pretty quickly, a 24 oz soda really doesn't look that big. It doesn't seem odd to drive six blocks rather than walk, or to say thank-you to the driver as I get off the bus. On the day we flew back, I dressed for the flight in a sweatshirt, stretchy leggings and running shoes. I had gone native.