Expat blues

It is 8 p.m. on a Thursday. Earlier today I sent in a manuscript to Environmental Science & Policy. Despite morning hours of editing and proofreading I still get that creepy grad student feeling of not being effective enough, of allowing my work day to drift away. Have been thinking about Lake Ohrid, the Armenian Highland and that Foreign Correspondents' Club; still uncertain what the summer will hold.

I remember a conversation at Washington Dulles International airport, about the loss of home or rather the quest of defining a new one. In her case the poles were America or Vienna. In my case it was a less distinct bifurcation, given that I still feel a bit bereaved of Germany.

Considering the material circumstances of most people on this planet, the conversation may seem superficial. Yet, knowing to value the freedom that we have been bestowed does not take away the fact that we owe ourselves a conscious decision. Rather the opposite.