Blog 23: Essay 3 revision

It was the only time I have ever left America to go to a foreign country. It was a important trip that my parents still talk about to this day because it wasn't just the only time I ever been to their homeland but it was the last time they themselves have been in their homeland. At that time they had not been to their homeland in over ten years, they never meant to stay away for that long but they were side tracked with their career and the birth of my brother and I.

I remember the weeks leading up to the trip was so hectic, we had to get so much done before we could leave. My brother and I needed passports, the entire family needed to buy new clothes, we had to buy gifts for friends and family, and worst of all my brother and I needed to have all our shots taken before leaving the country. When ever I think back to the trip I always remember that day at the hospital as the beginning. I never remember crying as hard as I did that day, even as I got older and lots of memories of that trip faded, that particular day never did. I think in a strange way that day actually helped me remember the trip better, it was so traumatic that I couldn't forget it. But I was happy to finally get it over with so we could go on that trip we had been planning for so long.

Before the trip the only thing I knew about my parents country was that it was small, at the very edge of western Europe, mostly rural, and surrounded by several bigger and more powerful countries. Still it did have its own language and culture that differentiate it from the others around it. But from what little I remember from that trip twenty years ago is clouded. But to this day they still occasionally ask me if I remember certain aspects of the trip. I know its important to them that I remember something about where they are from because there is no guarantee that I will ever go back, but my memories from that far back are pretty hazy. Even the things I do think that I remember I end up questioning whether they really happened or not because of years of having my mind filled up by TV, Films, Ads, and other media.

My parents talk about leaving me their house in the old country, and I agree to take it because I know they want to keep it in the family. But I honestly don't know what I'll do with it, I know my life will be spent her in America so what will happened to the house? Going there occasionally every couple of years doesn't seem like a good use of the house, and what will happen when I hand it down to my children who probably won't care much for the house since I didn't even make it important to my life.

When I close my eyes and think about that trip 20 years ago the first thing I remember was the farm I visited. It was another first for me, I had grown up in the suburbs all my life and this was the first time at a farm. I actually liked it, I got to interact with animals I had only seen on Television. That first day was a warm summer scorcher that had everyone wanting to stay inside with the air conditioner. If you looked outside the grass was dry and yellow from the mini drought that was happening at that time. There wasn't a cloud in the sky which is normally a nice thing but it made everyone vulnerable to the suns intense and bright rays that day. The land was full of rolling hills with grass a foot high, with little smatterings of trees spread out along the land and providing shadows to escape the hot sun. There was supposed to be a creek that ran through our property, but it had dried up years before, you could see the cobble stone barricades that was supposed to contain the creek when there was a flood.

The barn was dilapidated and clearly hadn't been tended to in years. Blue paint was chipping off all around the barn, the big heavy wooden door was worped from all the rain and unable to close it. There was no floor inside, just hard dirt that would kicked up dust every time you took a step. A low hanging lamp that would dimly light the old rickety farm equipment that was covered in spider webs. In my eyes the place was a dump, but through the eyes of my parents they remember it fondly because that's how they grew up. I didn't understand it because my parents would always talk about how difficult they had it as children working on the farm, working from down to dusk, working their calicoesed hands to the point that they would bleed and shaking. But at the same time while it was a lot of work it was something their family had done to years, it was something that the family did together, and it was something that they did love. While their current job is so much more stressful and isolates them from the closeness of their family.

My brother would play outside a lot during the trip, we didn't like anything we saw on television and we had no video games to occupie or time. I remember while we were playing outside one day we got into an argument with some local kids. They were saying something about us but we couldn't understand what. It ended up both sides started throwing dirt rocks at each other, until my brother hit one of them in the eye. The kid started crying and went home to tell his parents, while me and my brother ran home and hid.

The other thing I remember about the trip was going with my family to see my mothers aunt a few towns over. I remember it because their was a huge winding road on a mountain that we had to ride through to get to their house. In fact it was so scary that it was the first thing I could remember having nightmares about. The road on that mountain was full of pot holes, no barriers on the edge of the road to protect a car from sliding off the road down the mountain, and hundreds of large loose rocks on top of the mountain that looked like they were ready to tumble down to the road with the slightest wind. It was getting dark as well, the sun was bright owange and coming down. I couldn't rest or relax until we finally got off that mountain and on to level and flat land. Each bump we hit would freak me out, but for some odd reason my dad would laugh at my horror. I have a feeling he was hitting those bumps on purpose for his entertainment.

After what seemed forever it finally did happen and we pulled up to my mothers aunts house which was much more modest than American home but still looked nice compared to the farm house we were at most of the week. It was made of brick, with red shingles on the roof of the one story home. Inside everyone was wearing the national colors of red and green while watching the national soccer team in the Euro cup or world cup, I wasn't sure but it was a huge soccer match that had everyone in the city wearing the national colors. That day itself was forgettable, the only thing I remember about it was spending the entire time in my mothers lap sleeping or shielding my face in her shoulder so I didn't have to deal with these strange people that I didn't know.

There were other kids my age there that I didn't know that were playing together, I was never comfortable just going up to people and playing with them, So I just sat there and literally did nothing. I was so bored that I just layed on the coach and slept, buit I was awaken by an old man who picked me up and hugged me. I did not know this man so I screamed like a banchi until my parents showed up. After a while they showed up but were smiling, they told me the man holding me was my grandfathers brother. My grandfather died before I was born and I had never met his brother, but once my parents told me who he was I settle down. I was happy to meet him because I always wanted to meet my grandfather. Though he isn't my grandfather I was told he was a lot like him. I never met him ever again after that day.

The last thing from the trip I actually forgot but was reminded by a photo my mom saved in a box from that trip. As soon as I saw that photo it all came back to me. It was from a a festival that I don't even know the name of, but I knew it was a catholic festival because of the religious statues and beeds they were handing out. The country is heavily catholic and you see it everywhere in the countries. That day was It was the only time I saw my mothers brother face to face who didn't come to America like all his other siblings and parents, but instead stayed closer to home and settled a 200 miles north east in Paris. That day my uncle gave my brother and I an old necklace thats been in the family for a very long time that my brother and I still have.