Here, nor There

Diplomat that I am, if you hear me condemn Italy you will more than likely also hear me defend it... nowadays. My first years in Italy were spent comparing the differences between here and there, in the USA. Unfortunately, Italy did not always stack up to America. It was too small, too crowded, too dirty, too complicated. Where was this stereo-typed simple Italian life?! Life was boring, isolated, and difficult. After the climax of a wedding and the excitement of jet-setting off to Europe, la vita dolce was left lacking. I wanted to be there, not here, and there was no "in between".
John Steinback said, "A journey is like marriage. The certain way to be wrong is to think you control it." And boy was I wrong when I first moved here. I lost my control of the most simple tasks in life. Everything from putting gas in the car to mailing a letter to pay a bill had to be relearned, or at the very least, the language to do it all in had to be . I was forced to reconsider all things previously known. Houses aren't bought with kitchen counters and fixtures or with bedroom closets, women keep their maiden names, and air-conditioning or clothes dryers are a luxury not a necessity. I was a foreigner in my own life and there was a deep chasm between what I had always been, an artist, a student, a daughter, a sister, and who I was suddenly expected to be, an expat wife.
Now, almost 7 years down the road I realize that somewhere along the way, the line dividing here and there has blurred. I love living the life in between. I feel most alive hanging in suspense over our next move, or moving through an international airport suspended between neither here, nor there. Our travels and mini-adventures have included friends from the top of Italy all the way down to the heel of the boot, big dogs, and babies. And, even though we don't stay rooted for long, my little space between two cultures has taught me how to grow where I am planted, whether that is a tomato patch in Italy or a wind-swept plain of Oklahoma. As old habits die hard, so do old habitats and while I tried so hard in the beginning to make a lil' America among the cobble stoned streets and marble statues, along the way I have learned how to cast off all unnecessary baggage and enjoy the adventure of living in between the old world and the new.
Usually when I wake up my first morning either here or there after traveling for 24 hours with two big German Shepherds or with toddlers I have a strange groggy moment right before I open my eyes of not knowing where I am. Last year, upon returning to my American home, the confusion came in the form of another question. Not where I actually was, but where would I rather be when I opened my eyes? There is no answer for this. I am forever doomed, or blessed, to ride the fence between this life and that. Diplomatically, this blog is the story of our family's life abroad, afloat, and afar.