Aidan's Adventures in Cameroon
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How a Returned Peace Corps Volunteer Knows They Have Re-adjusted to Life in America
You've stopped carrying toilet paper with you wherever you go.
You no longer eat all of the hors d'oeuvres at dinner parties.
Some of your clothes don't have that genuine stone-washed look.
People no longer avoid the dishes you bring to potluck dinners.
You have a friend who was never in the Peace Corps.
You dream in English.
You use tissues to blow your nose.
You think twice before taking a 15-hour bus/taxi ride.
You're not afraid of swallowing water in the shower.
You stop boasting that you got a dial tone immediately.
You travel with baggage instead of cardboard boxes or plastic bags.
You use a watch as you are no longer able to tell the time by the sun.
Your meals no longer consist solely of vegetables.
You start to eat rice again.
You use the phone instead of sending a note by bush taxi.
You no longer stand in stores amazed at the quantity and quality of goods and you stop trying to pay with exact change.
Parasites (both yours and theirs) cease to be a topic of
conversation during meals.
You motion someone towards you with fingers up instead of hissing.
You stop expecting a Customs inspector to check your baggage and ask for a bribe after a domestic flight.
You throw out your plastic grocery bags.
Your underwear has holes only in the correct places.
When you hear rustling in the trees you expect to see squirrels, not
monkeys.
You have more than three changes of clothes.
If a fly lands in your drink you actually throw out the whole glass.
When turning a corner while driving you know exactly which side of the road you're supposed to be on.
Your Birkenstocks are no longer considered your "dress" shoes.
When something breaks in your house you call a repairman instead of breaking out the ducktape, goat rubber and Swiss army knife.
Rain is now a verb rather than a plural noun.
Your Teva lines have finally faded.
Your hand no longer twitches reflexively when you see a white sports utility vehicle in the distance.
You no longer respond to "Mzungu" or "Yovo" or "Nasara" or "Toobab" or "Mundju" or "Whiteman" as if it's your given name.
You no longer think it's normal to start drinking beer at 9:00 A.M.
You no longer immediately switch into Special English when you encounter anyone with an with an accent.