Missing The Lone Star State – Life Overseas

There are a lot of things you do on autopilot that are just tiny threads in the normal fabric of your life. Grabbing a quick burrito for lunch, buying a pair of shoes, popping into Kroger for a gallon of milk. These are the things that make up life on a normal day. When you move overseas, these things may not happen any more and suddenly you realize you don’t have “normal” anymore and that what was your normal life is maybe unravelling a bit. You crave what used to be normal to you, and when you’re a Texan, that’s probably not going to be found on the French Riviera.I’m not from Texas, but since moving to the South of France last year, I’ve made friends with several women from Dallas. They’re not socialites or rich. They’re average, middle-class, educated women. They were moved here as part of a temporary, multi-year relocation package with a big Texas company that shall remain unnamed. The names of these women have been changed to protect their identity because if their French neighbors ever found out that they miss Stuffed Meat Tators from Sonny Bryans or the ice from Sonic, they might just go revolutionary on their asses and torch their homes. OK, not really. The French would never do that; instead they would let their dogs poo on the sidewalk in front of my friend’s houses. Alright, they already do that, but anyway it won’t be good whatever they do, I’m sure.

So as my friends aren’t allowed to work here due to immigration rules, they’ve had plenty of time to think about what they really miss from Texas. Now make no mistake about it, these ladies have done a darned good job trying to integrate as much as possible here. They’ve taken French classes, joined social groups, taken art classes, done volunteer work and in general, sought to expose themselves to the language and the culture. But when you leave home, you are occasionally startled by your strong urges for things to which you never before gave an extra thought. Personally, I still occasionally think, “Hmm, I’d love some tacos for lunch today, I’ll just pop out and pick some up from…” and then realize there IS no place from which to get tacos and there is certainly no place to which I can “pop out.” At the beach I see a lot of popping out, but the French don’t normally do “popping out” for lunch. I know it’s a cliché, but they do love their leisurely, delicious lunches. Continue reading.