Ketchup chips of course came as a surprise to me...
Poutine is now one of my favorite comfort foods...
And it struck me as very bizarre to discover there's a pizza place called "Pizza Pizza" that has nothing what so ever to do with Little Ceasars (and odder still...they have those too!)
Some things frankly just frightened me, like the demon black squirrels (just not natural, I'm telling you...squirrels are grey...maybe brown...but not black! Demons I tell you, DEMONS!) Not sure if they are hiding in some parts of the US but I'd never seen one until I was in Canada and it really shocked me!
Other things aren't so much funny as just plain annoying. Trying to adjust to kilometers vs. miles or liters vs. gallons is a real pain in the butt. I still get a little twinge of shock when I'm driving down the freeway and the sign says 100 instead of 60 or when I go to the gas pump and the price is a dollar something instead of 3 something (and thanks to liters being less than gallons, it still costs more in Canada! LOL)
I discoverd another severe annoyance last time I was in Canada. I've been making Lipton rice my entire life. You throw it in the pot, add some water and butter, boil uncovered a few minutes and let it sit to absorb all the water...boom, rice! Not so in Canada...
I was making my famous enchiladas for Phil for the first time and like I always do, I planned to serve it with Lipton Spanish rice. I was thrilled to see he already had a pack in his cupboard. I went to making it like I always do, but after about 10 minutes of cooking it still looked exactly as it had when I put everything in the pan. Baffled I asked Phil about it. He grabbed the package I'd tossed in the trash and informed me that I was supposed to cover it for 20 minutes....Cover it? 20 Minutes? What was he talking about???
"You've got to read the directions baby" he said and though he didn't mean anything by it I just about burst into tears feeling like a total idiot. It was just rice, nothing of any importance in life...but why one Earth would I read the directions for something I've been cooking perfectly for years? That's just stupid. And that's what I told him, to which he replied something about how I'm in a whole different country and things aren't the same here.
Over the weekend I'd already had other mishaps...putting things in the wrong trash bins, breaking dishes, using the washer at the wrong time of day...the bottom line is, not only am I having to adjust to a whole new country, I'm having to adjust to a whole new household. A household that isn't even really mine yet despite being married to the guy that owns it. It was a silly epiphany being brought on by a package of rice, but in that moment it just all hit me. I'm homeless. I have NO WHERE in his country or mine where I really belong and feel comfortable in. In CT I live with my employers, and every nanny knows that you NEVER feel at home there. You're forever feeling weird and awkward about the dumbest things...grabbing a bowl of cereal, going to the kitchen for a glass of water, leaving to go out on Saturday using their car...no matter how welcoming the family is, its just not your house and you know it and you never feel 100% at home there.
I've been away from Utah so long that my parents house doesn't feel like home either...its there house now, and when I'm there (which isn't often at all) I'm a guest now. Though I grew up there, it no longer feels like home to me anymore...I've grown up to much and lived away from there too long. That's normal and part of life but just one more place that's not home.
And then there's Phil's house...Phil's home...not our home...Phil's home. I don't live there yet. When I'm there, I'm a guest. I'm surrounded by stuff that isn't mine. Surrounded by rooms I'm not really familiar with yet. I can't hardly even get the tv going without assistance. Every move I make I feel like I'm intruding or wondering if I'm doing something wrong. And its all the more awful because the one person in the whole world who's opinion of me really truly matters is Phil's. I hate feeling stupid in front of him. I hate when he sees my faults and my insecurities and my mistakes. And standing in his kitchen that night, feeling stupid about rice all I wanted to do was run away and hide somewhere safe...and I realized no such place exsists for me. I went downstairs, locked myself in the bathroom and just started crying. It seems like my whole life is trying to be perfect for people and I'm so terribly bad at it. And there's no where to hide and just be imperfect, clutsy, stupid me where no one else can see.
Phil of course noticed my absense and came down to find me. I didn't know what to do or say. The whole emotional thing was stupid in and of itself, crying over rice. But it was so much more than rice and how could I explain that right. I came out of the bathroom and Phil was sitting on the couch. I crawled right up in to his arms, layed my head on his chest and trying to control the tears long enough to try to make him understand. I don't think I managed very well but he held me anyway.
Eventually I was fine and got dinner finished (though the dumb rice was beyond repair) but it didn't change the fact that I still feel very much homeless. In fact, the only place I do feel safe and like I belong is in Phil's arms and despite my hearts true desire, I can't spend my whole life there.
I hope someday soon Phil's house will become my house and that someday after that, I'll begin to really feel like its my home too. Homeless till then...
1 comment:
Oh, Amanda, that really touched me. I can't imagine how difficult it must feel not having a place that really feels like your own. And don't worry about crying over the rice — I've done that in my own country with my own familiar food. It just happens. But I totally get what you're saying. I hope this separation is only as long as necessary. Hang in there until Thanksgiving!
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