Washing Machines, CostCo and Roberto's

Now that it's been a month since I returned to San Diego, I'd like to say that I've completely readjusted to everything. Afterall, my entire life minus those ten months in Morocco has revolved around such modern day conveniences as hot running water (no boiling required!) and 24-hour Mexican food. And on many levels I have found my way back to my American self, unless you think the urge to reuse Ziploc bags and rinse and dry paper towels for later use is un-American. (Seriously, you can use them at least three times!)

Occasionally, at places like CostCo and Trader Joe's, I'm entirely overwhelmed by the sheer abundance and choice of products. To give you an idea, my family of four buys three different types of milk from CostCo: unsweetened soy for me, fat-free Lactaid for Grandma, and whole milk for my mother's partner, Rick. And we don't just buy one; my soymilk comes in a pack of three and doesn't expire for over a month. Compare this to the tiny, square plastic bags of milk sold once a week on Fridays to go with cous-cous in my tiny desert town. There was one kind (thick) and to make it thicker it was placed in a warm spot, such as an oven, so it would turn just a bit. Then it was re-refrigerated (if you owned such a machine, which I didn't) and served denser than a milkshake. Let's say that it was an acquired taste. I happened to love it, but that was after a slow, incremental three-month process of increasing my tolerance for the at first gag-inducing taste. (Yes, I was a trooper, but I was also hungry and willing to try many, many things at which I would normally turn my nose up.) Just walking through the dairy aisle at my local grocer is a lesson in variety and choice nearly unheard of in the countryside in which I lived. And it's glorious.

And perhaps that's one of the best parts of coming home - everything is fresh and new to me. I treat grocery stores like museums, and blueberries like a rare find. I'm sure I'll go back to taking these things for granted, but for now I'm enjoying the sense of wonder that comes with the rediscovery of basic amenities such as a hot shower and door-to-door transportation. The first week home was a series of waves of relief, slightly tinged with guilt, that basic things didn't have to be difficult. Now after a full month, I can proudly say I'm happy to be home.