Who says you can’t go home again?

Because that’s exactly where I am headed tomorrow.

This will be my fifth trip in three years, which I know makes me a rather lucky expat. And I expect it to be a rather eye-opening one as well because on my last visit, I found myself – for the first time – hyper-aware of the differences between Australia and America. It had become, in fact, as if this new land felt more familiar to me than the one in which I was born and bred. (Anyone who has lived in and loved two countries will surely understand this experience. I had a friend move from the West to the East Coast and she even felt it.)

Last time I was ‘home’, just two months ago, I was bothered by the frustrations of air travel in America (granted it was LAX and I have always hated that place), I was angered by a loud and, in my opinion, obnoxious traveller on a domestic flight (truly he was guilty of nothing more than talking about gridiron and flirting with a flight attendant), and I was caught off guard by the fashion (lack there of) and speech of my fellow Americans as I wandered through the terminal to meet my family. I say this, not to be critical, but just to explain the experience. I did not think I was better than those people and I certainly was not proud of feeling this way; actually, I felt quite guilty.

It’s not about me – it is just a fact of life. There will always be some things I love about Australia, and some things I hate. The same can be said for America, just as it could have been said when I lived there. I am not sure if I will ever really feel ‘at home’ anywhere again.

But I sure am looking forward to some good Mexican food.

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