My husband and I went to one of those giant warehouse-sized home
improvement centers on home leave. Now you are probably thinking, “What
is so unusual about that?” Truth is, we had not set foot in one of those
places since three years prior, when we transferred to Indonesia. Before
that, we were downright regulars there.
Less than two weeks after we moved into our Jakarta house from the
hotel, we often whined to each other, “What I wouldn't give for that do-it-yourself
place!” We found ourselves making numerous trips in horrible traffic to
tiny, dirty little stalls with one-tenth of what we needed. The language
barrier made things worse. Unless we had a sample to hold up, (do you have
one of these?) we never could communicate what we wanted. Sometimes it
was easier to just give up.
Eventually, we became more comfortable with the shopping protocol
and learned enough of the language to find most of what we wanted. It still
isn't particularly easy or fast, though. Oh, how spoiled Americans are
and most don't even know it. Living in a developing country changes one's
perception of simple tasks, such as shopping.
Which brings me back to our visit. Although we returned Stateside
several times before, we never had occasion to go to the home improvement
store. This time, my husband remembered to bring the size of our obscure
halogen light bulbs, so we could buy replacements. I felt no sense of anticipation
as we drove up and parked. We were just ordinary Americans out on a summer
afternoon in search of light bulbs -- or were we?
We had to walk past the exit door to get to the entrance. Just as
we passed, a customer exited the store and it happened. Whoosh! I got a
whiff of that new lumber smell. “Ummmmmm!” I moaned to my husband, “Did
you smell that? Was it wonderful or what?” You would think I just had a
big bite of my favorite Belgian chocolate by the tone of my voice. My husband
rolled his eyes, a little embarrassed that someone might hear and think
me weird. I quickened my pace so I could get inside and savor the scent
more.
Through the electric doors we went and I verified my weirdness by
gushing, “Oh, WOW, let's go up and down every single aisle whether we need
to or not!” My husband found this most amusing, but I noticed he did not
protest. We started our tour by making an inspection of new lawn and insect
chemicals. We continued, looking at new weed wackers, rakes and wheelbarrows.
It suddenly occurred to us how expensive setting up our household will be when
we repatriate.
We could have sold tickets to the moment we surveyed a sample kitchen.
We poured over new design features intently. My husband saw the “push” button
along the top of a cook top and pushed it. We both reared back as the exhaust
vent rose up from the stovetop, roaring with power. Our eyes opened wide
and we leaned back in awe. “Ain't that just plumb faincy, Bubba?” I joked.
“Oh man!” I groaned when I saw the halogen torch we paid $70.00
for now selling for $20.00. I've heard New Yorkers can spot tourists by
the way they stumble along the sidewalks, gaping up at the skyscrapers.
That would just about describe us in the ceiling fan section.
My husband almost had to administer a sedative when we got to the
storage aisle. I swear it has tripled in size since I last saw it. I was
grabbed by the arm and rushed through that area before my impulses took
over and I bought twenty things that wouldn't come close to fitting in
my suitcase.
“Gaw-lee, Bubba, lookeee thar!” I said when I realized we must look
comical to others who considered this an every day experience. Up and down
we strolled for over an hour, gawking like a couple of yokels who had just
emerged from the deep piney woods. I know other patrons must have thought
that of us. I saw several looks of amazement pass over my husband's face
and I know I was guilty of the same. The word “wow” easily passed my lips
a few dozen times.
I have been asked by family and friends in the States what changes
I notice when on home leave. Let me point out that folks back home absorb
these changes bite by bite and they meld into everyday life. When confronted
by three years' worth of changes, we felt a little like space aliens who
just arrived on a flying saucer. Well, we are aliens of a sort.
We are still shaking our heads and marveling over the new sights
we saw. We have laughed and jabbed each other when we realize we were acting
like tourists in our own country. at a retail store. Our friends and family
have found our recounting of the incident to be very entertaining. Imagine--two
red-blooded Americans having culture shock right in the heart of suburbia.
Incidentally, after that extensive tour, we practiced restraint and
checked out with our halogen light bulbs, two drawer pulls and a magazine.
© Susan McKinley |