New York is My Country Too
I suppose I am feeling sentimental, I am going to leave the USA again tomorrow, for the last 11-12 years I have lived outside my country.
This is a beautiful view of a small pond between Orland and Angola, Indiana. It is a wonderful experience to see your own country with the filters off, somehow living in the USA made me ignore this pond. However, after too many years outside, I now can look at what is inside.
New York City - United States of America - Monday, November 2, 2009
This is an Airplane in O'Hare International Airport, there were two French people standing in front, I said hello to them later, and told them welcome to America.
We had a conversation in French, and I learned how to pronounce Haiti.
I sat on a plane with a woman from Mindanao, Philippines, we talked about places like Hawaii, Las Vegas, and San Francisco where different waves of Filipinos settled.
I checked into the Hotel here in New York, it took all the willpower I could muster to not speak only Spanish.
Dos Mujeres des Puerto Rico
Un Hombre desde Colombia
Un otro, que yo no se.
This sign is completely in Spanish, I do not need to leave the USA to meet the world here in New York, City, I am in the center of the world.
I walked into a grocery, I asked, where is the Banco? Stopped into the Donut shop, and the two girls say they are from Bangladesh, I said,
“I spend the night in Dhaka on a flight from Bangkok, I was going to Katmandu, Nepal.
Barb Wire and Binder Twine, somehow that phrase sounds real to me, I enjoy saying it.
Alan is on the right, he is the father of Eric on the left, when I was young I worked with these two men, It is nice to say, I have complete and unending respect for these two men.
Barb Wire and Binder Twine, I suppose this is America, at least it is my America, it was nice to look at my country with the filters off, to see it as it is, not as I think it is. I am ready to board the plane to Haiti tomorrow, I know where I am from.
New York is My Country Too
No place like home...Indiana
I met a German at a youth hostel in Belgium about 20 years ago, who spent "a fabulous summer" working on a farm in Iowa. As a teenager, I couldn't see what he was so thrilled about: 12-14 hour days under the hot summer sun, roasting in a thermos of a hay loft stacking hay, and other hard tasks. Now, I consider my days haying, and working summers with my grands,uncle, and cousins some of the best times of my life.
The smell of fresh sisal twine, as we loaded it, into the bailer. Following the bailer the whole day ,slipknotting the bails, because the bailer was an antique, or so I thought. Throwing bails on the haytruck, stacking hay into the barn, could go on until late. Finally, we could cool off with a jump into the pond, and an hour drive to the drive-in. Those were good days.
I just hope more foreigners and non-Hoosiers can enjoy our own kind of paradise.