I got back from the swiss alps last night. It was fabulous to spend quality time with my family and friends. I think I broke my personal record in eating just cheese/roesti/bread/sausages and hot chestnuts for a week straight.
It’s amazing how I morph into a tourist when being ‘home’. (Home? Hmmm… What do I call home at this point anyway? I am sure all expatriates agree with me that ‘home’ becomes a blurry term once you’ve lived away from your roots for a few years.)
I catch myself noticing things that are seemingly ‘normal’ to my family and friends eyes. One of my favorite things to do is hitting the local supermarkets. I can litteraly spend hours in there and observe the products, people and packagings. (It’s amazing how the swiss consumer brings his own shopping bag. Kudos! I like that!)
I always come back thinking that the overall standard of living is so incredibly high out there. The apartments seem like palaces to me and everything’s groomed, renovated, clean and ‘seemingly perfect’. What a change to get back into a cab in NYC, dealing with a grumpy cabdriver and driving down Atlantic Avenue, seeing rundown houses, self made signs and broken lights. It usually puts a grin on my face.
I embrace the imperfectness of NYC.
I love the duality of my life.