On the Outside Looking In

San Jose, COSTA RICA -- For nearly 15 years I've been a stranger -- to a culture, to a language, to a place.  On February 6, 1994, my husband and I moved overseas for the first time, and we've hardly been back to the U.S. since.  My husband's job has taken us to Germany, Israel, Indonesia, Croatia, and now Costa Rica.  I know how to argue with rude people in German, buy cottage cheese in Hebrew, catch a cab in Indonesian, and shop at the farmers' market in Croatian.  And I'm learning I can do almost anything in Spanish. (Did I mention I don't speak Spanish?  This certainly adds an interesting touch to daily life.)

"Wow!  You're at home anywhere!"  I hear this a lot.  "You must feel so comfortable living overseas."  I hear this too.

Yes, but here's the catch:  I'll never be German or Israeli or anything else but American.  Wherever I live, I'll always be on the outside looking in.  No matter how well I speak German or how much Spanish or Hebrew or anything else I learn, I'll always be a foreigner wherever I live.

Even in the U.S.

Overseas, I live life as an observer, trying to figure out how to fit in and function by watching those around me.  Especially at the grocery store:  what American would ever guess you needed to buy sour cream in a plastic bag?!

On my trips home, I find I spend almost as much time observing and studying and trying to fit in:  the signs are strange, the advertisements are strange, and the news on television is really, really strange: It's all about America!  

And of course, I seem just as strange to others.  I mean, what normal person talks about prices in Kunas or stocks a gas mask and atropine injector in her bomb shelter?!

My kids seem to be very, very in tune with this.  They are very aware of who in their school is American, who is Japanese, who is Costa Rican, and who is Canadian.  They know perfectly well that huge, vast cultural differences exist among their friends.  And knowing that, they get past it and get down to the business of having fun.

And I've learned to do the same thing; to laugh at myself a lot; to laugh at others quietly; and to spend a lot of time shopping at Target.  Shopping therapy, I've learned, is the great equalizer.  Because in a place like Target (a thing I've not found anywhere else the world), everyone is on the inside all together:  one, big happy family of consumers.

So, take me to Target and let me give you my credit card!  I'm in therapy.

Maybe I'm not such a stranger in the U.S. after all!