The worst part about being back in America is being unable to communicate what life is like in Europe even to the people who are closest to me. I like to believe after 9 months living and over 2 months traveling, I have been able to see Europe for more than its mystique. And would like to believe my American compatriots care about dispelling those myths and uncovering the core of European existence as much as I do, but so far, I have been unable to find a sympathetic (or even interested) ear. There is more to travel than seeing sites, and some of the more intangible experiences are the most important memories to share.
I have been victim to crappy customer service in France and to crappy public transport in England. I have intentionally taken trains to obscure places and unintentionally missed trains I meant to take. I have purchased tickets for cheap flights and paid overages to check my baggage. I have been to places where I speak the language and to places where I don't have the slightest clue what people in the streets are saying. I have stayed in good hostels and bad, with friends, with families, and with strangers. And yet all of these experiences are only a small part of what I miss about traveling through Europe and what I remember about being there.
I miss being able to walk to the shops to buy food, clothing or anything else I might need. I miss being able to take a bus across town or to a neighboring community without too much trouble. I miss being able to take a train to another country on a moment's notice. I miss being able to buy a bottle of wine without showing an ID. I miss being able to order an espresso without being handed a paper cup. I miss being able to sit in a cafe for hours without worrying about over-staying my welcome. I miss being able to sit in said cafe for hours without having to listen to soccer mom number one talk on her mobile phone for the majority of my stay. Most of all, I miss the palpable sense of community that emerges in places where people walk to work instead of driving their cars, browse for goods at the local market/s instead of driving to sam's club to buy mass-produced products in bulk, have time to meet friends for a casual coffee or a pint, and believe that working 35 hours per week is better (for everyone) than 70.
Now that I've returned, people want to hear about my trip, but they don't want to hear what I have to say. They want me to tell them that the British Museum is fantastic (and free!), not that it is filled with the remains of Britain's imperial past. They want me to tell them that Provence is beautiful and romantic, not that it is tainted by commercialism and obnoxious english-speaking tourists. They want to see pictures of beautiful vistas, classic city lights and quaint cafes without having to endure images of dog shit on the pavement and soviet-era subways. They want me to reaffirm their romantic ideas of Europe as a vacation destination rather than to confront them with the underlying lifestyle differences that make Europe a more attractive place for me to live than America.
I am happy to discuss the ways poor public transport in Britain (expensive trains and unreliable buses) is an instrument of aristocratic domination. I am happy to discuss the problems of the French economy--including those relating to its illustrious wine industry. But I am not willing to let those factors force me to declare America my homeland and ultimate resting place. I have seen the class system at work and I have seen the service industry at its worst, (and I do not deny their negative influence), but there is still something innately European that overrides (or incorporates) these more unfortunate realities and it is recreating that European essence on American soil that continues to elude me. Why is it impossible to recreate here the lifestyle I experienced there? And why do so many Americans insist upon perpetuating the lifestyle that is ruining our country in more ways than we care to admit?
