Adjusting to America

When I announced my move to the US, a number of people, particularly other American expatriates, wondered how I would cope with the shock of life in the US after 17 years in Italy.

It hasn’t been much of a shock at all.

This is partly because I haven’t had/allowed myself time to brood about it. My new job keeps me (very happily) very busy, and I travel a great deal for both work and personal reasons.

But I was also better prepared for re-entry this time. I didn’t expect to feel like a native here, and that lack of expectation has saved me some grief. Though I seem to have gotten better at passing for a “normal” American, my life is so complicated that any personal conversation quickly gets into the territory of the unusual. But this seems to bother the people I meet less than it used to, or perhaps I’ve gotten better at explaining it in ways that don’t seem arrogant or… well, whatever it was that others thought they perceived about me during my earlier US re-entries. It’s certainly easier to be happy in the US now that people don’t think I’m an arrogant bitch. ; )

Nor am I facing the culture shock that many expected me to.

There’s a lot to like about living in the United States.

For one thing, I’m enjoying the novelty of convenience. America is a consumer society, and, whatever else you may feel about that, you’ve got to admit that it makes shopping easy. You can buy just about anything at just about anytime, and “if for any reason you are not satisfied,” you can return it and get your money back – no questions, no argument.

Shopping online is also wonderfully easy, and shipments arrive when and where expected, whether sent by courier or through the US postal service. If you haven’t struggled with Italy’s legendarily bad poste, you have no proper appreciation of the sheer joy of a reliable postal service!

People also ask if I miss Italy. So far, I really don’t. I enjoyed being back there (in brief spurts) in June, and will doubtless enjoy planned visits at Christmas and hopefully also in the fall – I do like to see my husband from time to time. But I don’t waste any energy on missing the lifestyle I enjoyed there, and, when I scan the Italian headlines, I just end up depressed.

Capulin Volcano

On Sunday, Enrico and I headed back for Colorado, stopping along the way at Capulin Volcano, which proved to be well worth the 60-mile detour.

You can drive to the rim of the crater and then walk up and around or down into the crater. We started with the longer rim walk, enjoying spectacular views all the way around. Turned out we didn’t have time to also do the crater – a storm blew up just as we were getting back to the car.

Pecos Pueblo and Santa Fe, New Mexico

Enrico and I visited Steve and Sharon in Las Vegas, New Mexico (my third visit to them in 12 months!), arriving late Friday night. Saturday we all (including Robin) visited Pecos Pueblo and Santa Fe.

Before entering the park grounds, we toured the visitor center exhibit about the history of Pecos Pueblo. It was well done, as these things usually are at US National Parks, but I find the bloodthirsty history of the Catholic Church upsetting. I left the others watching an antiquated film about the Indians putting the poor, innocent padres to death, without waiting to find out whether it gave equal time to what the Church subsequently (and previously) did to the Indians.

 

Santa Fe

Enrico and Steve went to the Georgia O’Keefe museum, but I’m not a huge fan and Robin emphatically did not want to go to a museum, so he and Sharon and I ambled around town, looking at art galleries (what’s the difference with museums, from Robin’s point of view? I dunno).

As always, I was most attracted to anything featuring horses, and was delighted to find the work of someone who actually can sculpt them well, Star Liana York. I’ll have to save up first, though…

Also saw some fun and unusual stuff I’d consider buying in Pop Gallery, a refreshing change from the overwhelming (and, in the aggregate, somewhat boring) mass of Southwestern-themed art prevailing in Santa Fe.

There was a “mountain traders’ fair” going on in the courtyard of the Palace of Governors. Sorta like a Renaissance festival, including the love of antique weaponry. Just slightly different costumes. Some of the “mountain people” looked like refugees from “Pirates of the Caribbean.”

 

Deirdré Straughan on Italy, India, the Internet, the world, and now Australia