I'm homesick

Just a bit. But I am. Missing home. A little. Maybe more.

Yesterday, Connie and I took my van to pick up our friend Nick & Kristy's jeep from the airport. They left on a trip and decided to just park it at the airport and let us retrieve it at our own convenience. Not really an issue when parking is free at our local airport.

I kept the kids in the van and headed up to Base. They were having a Chili cook-off at the Clinic, and I always take any opportunity I can to let the kids spend time with their Dad during the workday. If they are having a family event, we try to be there, if only to give kiddos some extra time to hug on Daddy.

Connie headed home. Or at least she tried to. One of the jeep's tires was flat.

I say all that to make my point:

It is in the unexpected moments that foreigners most miss the comforts of home.

There is no AAA to call. And, like many Americans on the island, Connie had no cell phone. In addition, her Base pass had recently expired. It is currently renewed, but due to a four-day Portuguese holiday, the pass office has been closed. So she has no phone. She can't get on Base. And she has no idea who to call.

Connie figured it out. She managed to get to the outside of the Base. She convinced the Portuguese gate patrol to call the American police for her. She asked the American police to contact JB at the Clinic. "Just tell him Aunt Connie is stuck outside the gate with a flat tire. He'll know what that means," she told them.

We did figure it out. Dear JB changing a tire in his military uniform on an old beater Jeep with rust galore. (Oh and the spare was flat too -- just a small tidbit).

But as he changed the tire, and Connie and I attempted to entertain three very hungry children during the lunch hour, we discussed. And I realized that it was these moments -- these moments of things not going according to plan, that you just miss America. You miss home.

There is no way to explain what not being in your home country feels like, until you aren't. In America, you drive around knowing, instinctively, what you would do in the case of an emergency. Who you would call. Where you would go. What is safe. What isn't safe.

And while life here on the island is wayyyyyyyy (I really can't put enough y's on that word) less intimidating than life in Turkey, you still feel set apart. You still feel that you don't know how the game is played. You feel that everyone knows a secret you don't know.

Drivers here drive way faster than I am accustomed to. Men stand very close together. They talk very loudly and are often very animated. Things start extremely late. Soft drinks are sold by the bottle or can. Widows wear black for the rest of their lives. Automobiles stop, randomly, in the middle of the road as there are no shoulders on most roads.

Last week I completely forgot myself and plugged our external speakers for the computer directly into the 220 volt outlet in our house. Great smoke and stinking and burning ensued.

Our washing machine is a pile of words and numbers that mean nothing to me. I have to light our oven manually every time I use it with a match. Our refrigerator is incredibly tiny. Stray dogs are common, and nearly everyone has a guard dog at their house. Homes have front gates that precede the front door.

We needed to get new fuses for our transformers. But without a Walmart or a Target, where do you find these things?

And in Turkey? Oh my. The sky was the limit on the things that felt different. I won't even get started on that subject manner in this post. (You can check out the links in the right column of my blog for cultural differences regarding Turkey.)

We are headed home in December. It will be the first trip back to America that JB and I will make together since we first left for Turkey back in the Summer of 2010.

While there are many things about America that drive me crazy -- especially in big cities like South Florida -- I miss a lot.

I look forward to walking around a mall.

I am anxious to eat some fast food.

I want to be able to read the signs that I see around me.

In just about one month, I will get the opportunity to be in America again. I know the pace and rudeness and lack of friendliness will drive me crazy.

But I'm still anxious to get a free refill.