Homecomings
01/01/07 20:03 Filed in: Sordid Personal
Details
I write
this on the plane, in the middle of the third movie, hour seven
onboard. I have realized, in the last 10 days of hectic visiting
and feasting, that neither the words vacation nor holiday clearly
define the state of being recreationally away from work. Vacation,
sure, covers the vacatedness, and "holy day" the special
significance and party aspect, but neither really nail down what is
often vacating one situation and entering another, totally
different, all encompassing experience. Thus the "vacation from my
vacation" trope. Even more than visiting a new place, the shock of
returning home hits unexpectedly hard. Hence "reverse culture
shock."
Which is what was running through my head as I sat dazed at my mom's house, a banquet of baked goods and an array of questions before me. I had had little sleep on the plane -- note to self, do not sit next to the emergency exits ever again as the seats don't recline -- and I felt myself trying to put some distance between myself and home until I adjusted.
Shock hit even before I left the airplane. I asked the stewardess buckled into a seat next to me whether my luggage would transfer or not. She replied: "No, because you are switching from an international to a domestic flight. So, go and get your shit and walk down the hall..." etc. Go and get your shit -- this certainly wasn't "I recommend that the honourable customer retrieve his honourable luggage and proceed down the hall, so please you." I was startled but amused.
The second shock came in Tim Hortons. I ordered my two favourite doughnuts -- the apple fritter and the sour cream glazed. The former was standard, but the latter, my God, the latter, was nigh upon inedible! I couldn't believe how sweet it was and how much my palate had changed. I ate it, of course. But it was a struggle - that's what I am getting at.
The next 5 days were a whirlwind of family and a couple visits with friends tossed in. In brief:
23rd - arrival, shellshock and assault by sweets
24th - visiting, up to Lisanne's place for the Eve
25th - presents and off to the Harper's
26th - breakfast and then off to dad's
and with that, I'll let the photos do the talking. I will add, however, that I stood my ground at poker for 3 hours, and it was my first time! Gallery or Slideshow.
Which is what was running through my head as I sat dazed at my mom's house, a banquet of baked goods and an array of questions before me. I had had little sleep on the plane -- note to self, do not sit next to the emergency exits ever again as the seats don't recline -- and I felt myself trying to put some distance between myself and home until I adjusted.
Shock hit even before I left the airplane. I asked the stewardess buckled into a seat next to me whether my luggage would transfer or not. She replied: "No, because you are switching from an international to a domestic flight. So, go and get your shit and walk down the hall..." etc. Go and get your shit -- this certainly wasn't "I recommend that the honourable customer retrieve his honourable luggage and proceed down the hall, so please you." I was startled but amused.
The second shock came in Tim Hortons. I ordered my two favourite doughnuts -- the apple fritter and the sour cream glazed. The former was standard, but the latter, my God, the latter, was nigh upon inedible! I couldn't believe how sweet it was and how much my palate had changed. I ate it, of course. But it was a struggle - that's what I am getting at.
The next 5 days were a whirlwind of family and a couple visits with friends tossed in. In brief:
23rd - arrival, shellshock and assault by sweets
24th - visiting, up to Lisanne's place for the Eve
25th - presents and off to the Harper's
26th - breakfast and then off to dad's
and with that, I'll let the photos do the talking. I will add, however, that I stood my ground at poker for 3 hours, and it was my first time! Gallery or Slideshow.
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