Jill and America sitting in a tree . . .

Supposedly when you go back to the States after two years, you have a honeymoon period followed by reverse culture shock that's much worse than when you left the States. Me and America, we've been having a great time. We've been spending our honeymoon tucked into a giant bed with a firm mattress and fluffy pillows, snuggled in real tight because it's cold outside. We've been having a lot of yummy meals, eating way more sushi and cheesecake than any sane person should. We've been walking down the streets of San Francisco against a brisk wind, struggling to stay upright while walking up and down and up the hills. We've been riding the cable cars, unselfconsciously enjoying the operators' sassy attitudes intended for the tourists' enjoyment. We've been on a shopping spree, feeling like a million bucks while spending what might as well be a million bucks.

But we've also been confused as to what to do after finishing our hotel coffee in styrofoam cups before realizing you're supposed to throw them away after one use. We've been really annoyed by the small amounts of litter on the otherwise glistening streets. We've been worried we're acting strangely--always taking and giving things with our right hand; our feelings of extreme gratitude whenever a waiter asks us if we need anything; our savoring every drop of coffee that takes longer than five seconds to make and beer that's not the color of pee. We've felt very scared by the cars whizzing by us on the freeway.

So, while America and I are still going strong, we're aware that, as in any relationship, there might be rough times ahead. Especially since I haven't broken up with Burkina Faso yet.