I hate this stupid country.

There are days I hate this stupid country.

Days I hate its five-day forecasts of rain and rain and rain.

Days I hate its houses all stuck together so no one has any privacy and you can’t laugh too loud in the evenings or vacuum your carpets whenevertheheck you want to.

Days I hate its people who don’t say hello in the street, or wave to each other from passing cars on a rural road, or chat to strangers in the grocery store line; its people who close their curtains as soon as the sun sets, who are obsessed with “the property ladder” and “the recession” and “the Conservatives.”

I hate its stupid words for “line” and “diaper” and “bathroom.”  I hate that I have to repeat myself – to translate myself – to be understood.

I hate its rules for roundabouts, and its rules for drivers’ licenses, and its rules for immigration.

I hate that one Krispy Kreme donut costs $2.00.

I hate that there is no trace of maple syrup on its breakfast plates.

I hate its so-called “beaches” covered in painful pebbles, and lapped by freezing cold waves.

Yesterday was one of those days.  I laid on my bed after Adlai went to sleep and cried so hard I shook.  Cried because I hated everything so much.  Cried because this country is stupid.

And then this morning, as is most often the case, I saw last night’s tears for what they really were.

The truth is, the only thing I really hate about this country is that it is 3,000 miles away from my family, my big sister, my best friends.

Author: Faith

Faith Dwight is a photographer and a writer. She is a Southern American girl living just north of London with her British husband, Simon and their two halfling sons.

35 thoughts

  1. I think it’s been said, but in case it hasn’t been said clearly here it is again – “Sorry, but you’re doomed to a life time of being in between”. The only way anyone can avoid suffering a similar fate is NEVER to live anywhere other than where you were born. You may not consider yourself an immigrant, but by virtue of the fact that you have moved continents, you’ll always suffer the fate of many immigrants – having days when you yearn to be somewhere else. Worse, when you finally come “home” people will say that you sound strangely English, you’ll miss the quirky self-deprecating sense of humour, you might even miss the dimunitive “loo” vs the pretentious “restroom”. Sorry for being the bearer of bad news, but I speak from painful personal experience.

    On the positive side of the equation…ah, I needn’t tell you. You know what they are. Bless you for writing a “real” blog.

  2. That’s what scares me most about following my dream and moving to Japan. My family means so much to me, it terrifies me to leave them. Terrifies me to not be able to see them and talk to them whenever I want. I admire you for following your dreams and for loving your family.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s