No matter where I go in the world, how much I love to travel and the depths of my strong desire to live abroad, I ALWAYS, always feel grateful upon landing in the good ole U.S. of A. If there ever presents a chance for me to be Queen, it is every time I land at Intercontinental Airport in Houston, TX and take my first steps into the airport and finally onto the street. There is no feeling like entering the land of the free, the home of the brave. Miraculously, this even occurs upon returning from my favorite locales of Paris, Sydney and any tropical isles. America: The assurance of clean public bathrooms, AC on a hot day, heater in the cold, large streets, fancy cars, bright lights, big city. What you need ya get, what you don't need ya get. 
I posses some angst over our government politics, inequities in fair pay and harsh immigrant treatment, specifically those undocumented. I scour at the American rat race work ethic and our excessive materialism. And don't get me started on freakish reality tv, obsessive obesity, and occasional indifference to our elders, families and communities. I dream of living off the beaches of the Mediterranean or visiting our Southern Latin continent counterpart. Villa in Honduras, Lunch in Milan, Swimming in Tahiti. Bring it. 
And yet...and still....I will cede....in terms of hygiene, cleanliness, the utter pristine nature of our towns large and small....I looooove my native lands, the U.S.A. There has been, on occasion, upon return from my beloved Indian motherland, a moment in which I envisioned myself prostrate on the Airport floors kissing the shiny linoleum in heaven thanks for the country of my birth.
"Uhhhh-mhhhe-rica.....aaaammeeerica, god shed his light on theeeeee": America, The Beautiful - Ray CharlesWhile I'm at it:
I like you world. But I loooove you America.
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment