Well...

The following was written 25 June 2008, en route to Chicago:

New York disappointed me. First of all, not only had Kelly already moved to San Francisco after I had agreed to stop in NYC specifically to see her and Meg, but the city also turned out to be too much for me, too many people, too noisy, too much space. It was of course all familiar, but being there felt in no way like the homecoming I was expecting.

New York still holds it's special beauty for me: the view of the evening sky from the fire escape on Meg's top-floor apartment, Central Park and the smell of the flowers, the jagged and characteristically crowded skyline. But, however, most strongly I met with the city's difficult aspects, which were accentuated by my year's absence - the noisy ans smelly subways, the way things are sooooo far apart from each other, and how people have to try so darn hard just to make it. Most people work like dogs, and the fashion there, if not downright cutthroat with specific uniforms of cool, is still an extremely competitive sport.

I always thought that Kraków was too small and time capsule-y for me. but I already miss it for its familiarity and charms. When I had the day to myself yesterday, the first place I headed was Greenpoint, Brooklyn so that I might be surrounded by New York's Polish immigrant community. I followed the streets where some of the shops signs were written in Polish --Gabinet Kosmetyczny, Adwokat, Solarium, and the St. Stanislaus Kostka church-- and I strained to listen in on people's conversation to try and catch some sounds I might recognize. Sure, there were Polish placards on every corner deli, but (and maybe because I was out in the middle of a workday Tuesday) the result of my excursion was not what I was looking for. When my brother, Peter, and I went for lunch at a Polish restaurant in the neighborhood a few years ago, I seem to remember a more visible and vibrant presence of the culture. Yesterday, the most permeating signs of the people I was seeking were the empty Żywiec and Tyskie bottles filling the bins on the sidewalks set out for recycling day. (Even so, I could walk out of the Beford Ave station and barely walk across one street to buy a bottle of żubrówka from the proprietor of a liquor store in Polish... That was fun.)

...........

I don't know where I feel at home anymore. I feel like at any moment I might break into tears (ok, maybe only because I am physically and emotionally exhausted) because I miss what I don't have. One of those things is a desire to return to Minnesota. I don't know what the next step will be, and even worse is that I don't know what I want it to be. I know New York, and I blend in there. A tourist couple stopped me at the foot of the Brooklyn Bridge to ask me directions to the nearest A train despite the fact that I actually had no idea and was looking myself! But then I remember how on my first solo orientating walk of Kraków I was stopped by a girl for directions or something of which I am not even sure because I could only speak 5 words of Polish at the time. So, I'm not sure where I feel the most comfortable and the most myself. I think I need more time...

At Meg's place, because Meagan is working at a Starbucks and can bring home tons of free food, my diet has consisted of Starbucks for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, with a pizza last night thrown in just for variety. Then we'd all sit, play on our computers and watch TV. Welcome back to the United States.