Quarantine Homesickness
Late last year, after much isolation, depression, and reflection, I came to the conclusion that I am very homesick, a new phenomenon for me. Throughout my childhood, I went to many sleep-away camps (yay Girl Scouts!) and spent all my summers abroad, much of the time without my parents. I moved to London in 2014, and through all this time, I have not been homesick at all more than a few days out of the year. This pandemic changed that drastically. Though I did visit home twice in early 2020 (I usually only go back once a year, long enough to see my friends, get my hair cut by my trusted stylist, and argue with my family), I came back to London at the beginning of Lockdown 1.0…and immediately wanted to crawl back into the familiar habitat of my childhood home.
Driving
When you grow up in the country, driving means freedom.
My first homesickness prompt is driving. I do not drive in London — one of the many contributing factors is that the UK drives on the wrong side of the road, but that is a discussion topic for another day.
Very specifically I miss driving in Nevada County. I miss driving to the library and to the supermarket (and not having to carry heavy groceries home by hand) and to my friend’s houses. Functional public transportation is a blessing, which I am lucky enough to have here in London. That is certainly not the case at home — before I got my license, I did have to take the very limited bus system to school. I have locked those grim memories away, never to be spoken of again. Therefore, I really appreciate both good public transportation and being able to drive.
When you grow up in the country, driving means freedom. The landscape is beautiful. You might accidentally go over the cliff edge, but you’ll have a great view as you fall. A fair exchange in my opinion.
Fresh Air
Related to the beautiful scenery, I miss having fresh air. Now I know over the summer the air in California was far from fresh. That is unfortunately the norm during wildfire season. The sky fills with smoke and gives everything a hazy orange glow. However, even when they’re shrouded in smoke, pine trees smell good.
Part of my frustration is that there is limited green space in cities. And when you are limited to one outing a day for exercise, of course, you would choose a park. I am lucky enough to have three parks within walking distance from my apartment, but they are packed with people — not great for avoiding a respiratory virus. Because park space is so limited, it also means that they easily get trashed. Over the summer, I also noticed many “socially distanced,” [not really] gatherings that left debris and urine everywhere. I walked past (not through) Clapham Common a few times and could smell it — that air was not fresh. There was even a 2 liter soda bottle filled with urine. Someone clearly had the forethought not to piss directly on the grass, but then did not take the bottle with them when they left. I am in despair.
even when they’re shrouded in smoke, pine trees smell good
That is not to say that NorCal magically has no littler. It absolutely does, and I participated in the annual Yuba River Clean-Up in my youth.
Side note: my favorite “Funniest Trash” winner was a complete, fully functional defibrillator kit. I have many questions. Who brings a defibrillator kit on a hike? They are expensive — why does a layperson have one anyway? And then how would you lose it in the forest? They are pretty big — surely you would not just forget it? It has been years and I am still laughing about this.
Perhaps in the country, the trash is just more spread out, and therefore less noticeable? Anyway, walks here just do not have the same satisfaction as they do in the country. The only Fresh Air I’m getting this side of the Atlantic is from NPR (deep cut for my nerdy Americans).
Supermarkets
My last homesickness gripe is supermarkets. Every time I mention this to Brits, they are surprised. Are supermarkets not the same everywhere? No. They are not.
British supermarkets do not smell right. I am sorry to break it to you.
When I walk into my local Asda, I take a deep breath. Even after six years of living in London, I still expect supermarkets to smell like the supermarkets at home and I am disappointed every time. Whilst we linger on the aromatic qualities of supermarkets, I will add that German supermarkets smell like real supermarkets. Not quite like the US, but solid. Germans do food right, something the UK has never been able to claim.
British supermarkets also do not have the range that American supermarkets do. You can find anything in my local market at home, even though it is a pretty small store. Slightly bigger than the Sainsbury’s Local down the road which barely stocks anything worth ingesting.
American supermarkets also often include a deli counter, which I know some British supermarkets also have, but it is not the same. I miss ordering a build-your-own deli sandwich from my local Safeway, piled high with salami and cheese. Why are sandwiches in this country so thin? Why is the lettuce so wilted and sad? Why do the tomatoes taste like mush? Even trying to get deli ingredients separately is nearly impossible — I have not found good pastrami or flavorful ham here. Why are there no pepperoncini here? Why is the bread so terrible? I could go on. I just want tomatoes with real flavor and a deli sandwich. Is that too much to ask?
I just want tomatoes with real flavor and a deli sandwich. Is that too much to ask?
It’s time to talk about British bread. It should not be this hard to find bread that has both structural integrity and actual flavor. I miss Californian sourdough — I know supermarkets and bakeries sell “San Francisco sourdough,” but…no. British bread is a fraud. I miss rye bread that tastes like rye. The loaf-shaped hole in my heart is half true homesickness, and half “homesickness” for Germany, which has never been my actual home, but my family calls it home.
Side note: bagels in this country are kind of trash (do not mention Brick Lane to me).
The bread catastrophe could be an essay in itself but literally no one wants to read about that. I hope you have enjoyed my rant and/or lament on homesickness. I hope wherever you are, you are enjoying your surroundings and not missing too much.
If you are looking for me, I will be avoiding doing work and crying on the floor. Standard.
