God Bless America

Place: Back home
Location: Chicago
Coordinates: beer gut and big tushie

Observation #1
In the weeks leading up to my return, many of my foreign co-workers and I salivated over the smell of summer wafting across the Atlantic. Home was merely the place chock full of the foods we couldn't find in Istanbul (or only the crappier, more expensive versions). A long time ago in a land far, far away, people known as Americans ate things like sushi, pork, and real fake Mexican foods. Friends from both coasts strived to loose a few kilos before leaving for the states so they'd have a little wiggle room for the draft beer, bacon, and burritos. One week in and I'm already feeling the effects of deep dish pizza, ice cream, and returning to a mythologized homeland.

Observation #2
The not-so-suble comparison between the United States and the rest of the world? Everything is bigger. The buildings, the portions, the size of our land masses, our politician's heads and of course, the people. The other obvious distinction: the options. Instead of 2 brands of aspirin there are 27. Everything from lattes to legwarmers can be tailor made.I was desperately craving dessert the other night(some things stay the same no matter where you are) and I had my choice of pinkberry-esque fro-yo, coldstone ice cream, chocolate fondue, and the desserts available at five different types of ethnic restaurants - all within a two block radius.There is nothing innately better about American desserts as opposed to Turkish desserts (well, Ghiradeli ice cream aside); they are not necessarily fancier or or fresher or cheaper. The mere fact that there were so many of them made the situation all the more appealing.

Observation #3
I've been dreaming of my first trip back to Trader Joe's. I had visions of sweet and savory trail mix, frozen masala veggie burgers, thirteen different types of pasta sauce and products with tea tree oil dancing in my head. When I got there, I was more amazed by the bizarro families feeding their children soy ice cream and dried cranberries as their idea of a 'treat.' Grocery shopping seemed like more of a marker of one's identity than a practical trip down the frozen foods aisle. Are you a soy or dairy kind of girl? Is your cart filled with organic beer or vitamin water? Fresh veggies or frozen teriyaki stir fry? So many options, so many ways to define oneself. Why not just get a cute little star or heart tattooed on your foot? Then you'll be really original/

These comforts are like a fluffy pillow - you can't wait to sink your head in and melt into soft downy bliss, but as soon as you do you run the risk of being suffocated by duck feathers. Because, upon returning home, when you don't have to worry about how you will formulate your next sentence or if the cockroaches will be coming back, then you have time to spend five minute with the freezer door open debating between criss cut fries and potato wedges.

And I wonder: will I feed my children soy or regular ice cream?