Let me preface this post by saying that I am not actually homesick, despite the title. When I left Texas in July, I was already aware that there would be certain things I would miss: HEB, pizza (I don’t like the way it’s made in Germany), a/c, American laundry machines (though tbf, this might only have to do with what I currently have access to and not a German-wide thing), and easily accessible cold brew from the store. Those were things I knew from living here last year, and from other moves in the past (I will miss HEB no matter where I go!). Since moving here, I’ve only added one item to the list: pickles. (Why are all the pickles here either made with sugar, or if no sugar, made to be salty only with no sour???)
Other than those things, I love Germany. I love that hotel rooms come with blankets for both people, because no one expects you to share even if you’re in the same bed. I love that everyone minds their own business instead of making small talk in retail situations. I love the language and the literal-ness of it. I love the public transportation options even if the German train system is famous for being literal garbage. I love the concept of Abendbrot, and that it’s very German to just eat cereal for dinner, and the windows with their metal shutters, and so much more.
But that isn’t the point of this post. I recently had a really bizarre thing happen. I was winding down for bed, listening to an audiobook and playing Octordle, when I had a sensory-based memory flashback. This wasn’t based on any one particular memory, but on a thing I did multiple times in my decades in San Antonio. There’s one strip center that I used to visit pretty regularly. It had Half Price Books, my dentist, a specialty grocery store, and a few other things. I didn’t go more than a few times a year, but I went often enough that I’ve been there quite a number of times. Whenever I went that way, after I was done with whatever errand or appointment I was on, I would drive up to this one stop sign and wait my turn to go right down toward the highway access road. Because the parking lot had very little shade and this was Texas, my car would invariably still be hot, the a/c not yet overcoming the trapped air, by the time I got to the stop sign. The scent of hot car and hot parking lot is unique, and that’s what I would be smelling at that moment. That’s what this sensory flashback involved: me, pulling up to the stop sign, in a cloud of heat haze and parking-lot-scent, looking to see if it was safe for me to turn right. No specific memory, just the feel of a thing I had done often.
I was hit with a wave of nostalgia.
Why?? I have no idea. There are no good memories associated with that particular setting. No nostalgia, no yearning for being there in that strip center parking lot. Or in that strip center. But also, there are no bad memories. It’s a very neutral place, one I have zero feelings about. I certainly have no desire to be back there again. However, that was the first actual wave of nostalgia that I’ve had since moving here over three months ago.
A few days later, I had another sensory bit of nostalgia – the taste of plain Cheerios. I don’t even like plain Cheerios, and yet I suddenly had the desire to taste them again. How bizarre.
I have no idea what any of this means, if anything at all. It’s nice to know, however, that despite whatever kind of nostalgia, I don’t actually feel homesick. In fact, I’m starting to feel a lot better than I did a year ago, when the depression and loneliness kicked in. I only really know one person locally, but I know a lot of people around Europe, and I can (and have) travel(ed) to see them pretty easily, and I feel far more supported and surrounded than I did a year ago. It’s nice. And reinforces for me that I’ve made the right choice.
