Goldie Locks gives up artificial color (for now)

America is too much.

I was home for the month of October and it was a fantastic trip. I was lucky to be able to see many friends and family, eat too much good food* and travel around to get the most out of every minute. Did anyone read that book – Eat, Pray, Love? I'm not recommending it. The themes of the book are: fretting, feasting, feeling and falling in love. Bleeeg. So I read this book probably a year ago and today am “fretting” and “feeling” confused: why can I relate to that stuff?

Because America is too much. I went home to America to do the following things: eat, drink, purchase and dress up. In that book this woman had a crisis and then took a year-long, three-part trip traveling to Italy (to indulge), India (to introspect) and then to Indones... well who cares? Here's how I'll sum it up: binge, purge, recover. Does that sound familiar to any of you girls? Any of you people in America? Have we not, as America women, not all gone through periods of such? WHY?

I went to Best Buy to get a cheap laptop and my camera fixed. There was only one problem with it – the screen was broken. When I asked the guy for help about fixing it I swear he did a double take – like he was stretching to the depths of his memory to recall the last time someone asked him such a question. -Did you buy the camera here? -I don't know. -Is it old? -No, I don't think so – it looked like new when I took it from my Dad two and a half years ago. -So its over a year old? You can't fix it. We don't carry any of those old parts. -So you cannot fix it even though it works like brand new except this one, isolated, broken part? -Well I could check with the geek gang for you...? You know where this story goes: it would cost just about as much if not more to fix the old camera as to buy a new one.

I DON'T WANT TO BUY A NEW CAMERA. I want to fix my OLD ONE. But I won't. Is this my fault?? That I'm eventually going to chuck an almost-perfectly good piece of electronic equipment simply because its a) cheaper to buy a new one, b) impossible to recycle it via Best Buy, c) complicated to figure out where the heck to bring it to and maybe not even worth it once I factor in the distance I'll have to drive, alone, in a gas-guzzling car borrowed from my parents to the end location? I DON'T WANT TO LIVE IN AMERICA. I don't want these kinds of problems. When I'm in my parents' home, I am totally overwhelmed by the amount of STUFF. Why so much stuff? I want to change them – I want to help them purge and recover. Here, let me be in charge of collecting things for the Vietnam Vets (that's where my family donates old clothes and excess stuff). Mom, you don't need this and do you still want this? And this can't possibly fit you – let me help you with that. Of course, this is a never-ending process. I come home, metaphorically binge and purge – riding the familiar wave of American culture – then leave desperate to get back to my “normal” life. I yearn for my routine, my small house, my yoga mat...

Ever read Out of Africa? Well I do recommend this book about another woman who goes on long trip and never really comes back. Issak Dinesen, a bad-ass/ pioneering, Danish woman discovers where she really belongs in colonized Kenya and then stays for the rest of her life. Meryl Streep played her in the movie. Well I can gladly relate to this woman who came to love and understand a people and a place so different from her own. She learned the local language; she integrated. I have come to love Burkina and Togo in my own way too. In fact, I'd go as far to say that I couldn't be happier in my present situation. But a few months in Togo and I'll yearn for more comfort, more options, kickboxing classes and running routes...

West Africa is not enough.

Even last week – I got back and had to majorly readjust. What is it? What is it about all this? America is definitely too much. I left home sad to see myself go, once again, away from my loving family, and emotionally hungover from too much socializing, indulging and fun.

What is it about being in West Africa? Well, I miss things that smell sweet. I miss perfume and scented candles and body lotions that don't just attract dust, dirt, mosquitoes and insects. I miss impenetrable roofs and glass windows. I miss living without fear of accidentally sleeping with a cockroach. I miss indoor climate control and blankets. I miss warm and cold faucets, showers and machines that wash. I miss paved roads and concrete. I miss carpet and clean bare feet. I miss refrigeration. I miss seasons.

Why don't well-educated Togolese have offices with computers and the internet? Why hasn't an average Burkinabe ever read a book and never will? Why don't village girls go to school? Why is a woman second and a man first?

Why do Africans want to be fat? Why do Americans want to be thin? Why do I need makeup in America? And why is it not worth it in Burkina or Togo?

So where is best? Where is balanced and mixed and reasonable? Where can I walk with clean, bare feet; get my new-looking, old camera fixed; put on heals; take a yoga class; learn to dance; train modestly to run; pick up a local language while still using my English and French; get where I'm going on foot, bike or public transport; see a movie in a theater or go to a play; have a job with freedom and responsibility; cook good food with fresh ingredients or go out to eat; meet interesting people, see beautiful things and experience changing seasons?

Where is my oatmeal porridge not too hot and not too cold? Where is just right?

I don't know. In case you were wondering. I have absolutely no idea where I am going. In case you thought I did. But I like my natural hair color, people, and won't be changing it any time soon.


*You may or may not have heard that my family and I were filmed for an hour-long segment of a four-part TV special with Sandra Lee on holidays, homecomings, celebrations and family traditions. We were the heartwarming, homecoming part. So the first thing I did in America was change my clothes and put on makeup for the bright lights awaiting me at the departure gate of Kennedy airport. The first thing I did upon arrival to my house in New Jersey after open presents for the family was eat cheese, on camera.