I love how open and honest you are in this reflection about what it feels like to be a stranger in your adopted country. I remember feeling that way when I lived in Ireland, in France and in England–well, in England as a kid, I would fake the accent well enough to get away with it for the most part, and my school uniform also provided me with a bit of cover. But in France? Well, actually, no one wanted to know where I was from–ha!

Your experience also takes me back to the stories my students from other countries and even other regions would share of how difficult it was to feel at home here in what looks like a monoculture in Vermont (not to the extreme of Italian regionalism by any means). And the students of color rarely ever found themselves feeling that sense of belonging that you describe and seek.

The story of your growing relationship with the vegetable seller is a great one, and I look forward to hearing more about how that unfolds!

Great, great post.

Yes, Emerson comes to mind here, and Pollan, and the Nearings. When we ventured back into the grocery stores post-cleanse (similar to how we feel when we return from travels outside the USA), we were shocked–almost overwhelmed–by the variety and the quantity of things we could now officially eat but no longer wished to eat. And a whole lot of junk we never did eat. Following Nature and not culturally imposed, or rather should I say corporately imposed notions of what we need to nourish us can only lead to a sense of well-being on so many levels!

I’m looking forward to reading your Frankie post. One of my best friends in college grew up on a beef farm near the school, and he would bring me out on weekends to hang out with Buster the bull and the rest of the gang. The night we ate an incredible rib roast–Buster– and listened his father pay tribute to the mighty bull (with a litany of funny stories) was revelatory for me about the relationship between the farm animal and the farmer on enlightened farms.

I love that you, too, head to Sahadi’s (so close to Nora’s apartment) when you’re in NYC. You’ve got to try the hummus at Damascus Bakery, two doors down. Incredible.