American Boys

Usually, our annual trip back to the States is marked by culture shock reflections and finding humor in what we found remarkable.  As I mentioned the last time we were back in April, what was astonishing to me was the lack of culture shock we experienced upon our arrival in the U.S.  I commented as to how we seemed to have achieved some sort of balance between the two places – as if our hearts had achieved this ability to belong in both places at the same time. 

And like after our trip in April, I don’t have any of the standard cultural shock observations to share.  However, in our jet lagged fog the other night, I realize I have some observations of a different sort.  A reverse reaction so to speak.  I realized that this time, I am noticing  how American our children are upon returning.

A critical part of this immersion experience for us is keeping our children, well, Americans.  They have done such a good job at adapting and immersing themselves in their Belgian school and the European culture, that if we don’t work hard at nourishing their American roots, that part of the experience – the comparison that provides them (and us) with insight into our own culture by living in another – is less obvious.  Not only that, on a much more basic level, it will just make it very difficult to readapt and repatriate upon our move back.  And we all know that is coming at some point in the near (or not so near?) future.

 So here are a few observations from our first few days back in Belgium, and I will try to add to the list as we go along:

• The other night, as I pulled American a couple of cereal boxes out of duffle bags and put them on the counter (think Lucky Charms and Fruit Loops), the boys started singing the jingles for each accompanying cereal.  In fact, they also had at least a ten minute banter back and forth about a Toucan Sam commercial that resulted in them doubled over in hysterical laughter. (Keep in mind at ages 5 and 7 they are the target audience, and then throw in the jet lag  - it makes for a slaphappy kind of moment.)

• At one point, I came into the empty living room and was greeted by a loud television tuned into random coverage of a girl’s international softball contest.  It brought back childhood memories of the “Wide World of Sports” that used to air on Saturdays(?) and was always “on” in the background of a weekend afternoon growing up.

• Walking through the Amsterdam airport, the 7-year old saw the Burger King sign and declared that all he wanted was a burger.  (It was 5am local time).  Keep in mind that we were at the mercy of jet lag and suffering from completely wacky cravings at random times.  (No one in my family ate a single bite of airplane food the entire trip – except me who has learned that while traveling if presented with a gluten-free option at any point I have to take it as I never know where my next meal will come from.)  We succumbed to the kids’ craving and they all inhaled their food – which was better than the time in April where we sat at almost the same table and insisted that they try to eat the ultimately untouched croissants and fruit.  That morning’s “breakfast” was very much a transition moment, bridging one culture to the other.  My oldest even commented that it was not a very good burger at all and we explained that the Americans have the corner on the fast food industry.  (Seriously, though, how good could any airport Burger King burger really be at 5am??) But they all ate it, which was critical.  

 And now, as the jet lag fades, we are slowly but surely easing back into our life here.