Clinging to memories

It's funny to me how much I seem to focus on recreating bits of home when I'm abroad. And then as soon as I get back to the states I seem to focus on reconstructing some of the more charming bits of my life abroad. What is it that makes humans so contrary? I guess in a way it is wanting the best of both worlds.

Three separate experiences brought this to mind today. The first was making an advent wreath for myself. While in Istanbul last weekend I bought four candle (blue and green - they're not quite the right color, but you have to be willing to improvise a bit) which I stuck to tea plates. After school today I went out with my scissors and stole some branches from the pine trees in my back yard. With some twist ties and a little bit of patience I soon had a live (soon to be dead) wreath for my table. Makes it seem a bit more like the Christmas season.

I've also been bugging my sister for pictures of my niece. The joys of the electronic age. Even though I'm 8 time zones away I can still get messages almost instantaneously and (as long as people are on top of it) keep updated on how things are changing visually. It's that bit in parenthesis that I"m having trouble with currently. So I've started a one e-mail a day campaign to my sister and brother-in-law with the hope that new pictures will be posted soon. I'm quite pleased with the one I have planned for tomorrow:
When you're far far away
With a little growing niece
You sit and wonder "Has she grown today?"
Pictures are good, they're just a small piece
To remind you when you travel there's a price to pay
I've left you all behind, but hey -
the images don't have to cease!

I also brought a little bit of Guinea (West Africa) into my kitchen today. I hosted a dinner for a couple of other returned peace corps volunteers. Mmmmm...mafe tiga (peanut sauce on rice for those who aren't familiar with fulani). Always makes me smile to taste it. Takes me back to sitting outside with my family learning the words for all the ingredients at the same time that I learned to make it. Whenever I smell the sauce I can't help but think of Fatim, NaBintu and Oumou (the three daughters of my neighbors in Koundara). Even though I haven't seen them in 4 years they are still bringing a smile to my face.