We Found First Street

One time around the block: Oh, right, there's no river here to shape the city so as we come into the city the streets don't start with 6th, then fifth, etc. We're all backwards. No, turn here, we'll have to come around again because Cook only goes one way in the other direction.

Two times around the block: I see the restaurant. Big yellow sign. Is there any parking? What was that sign? It said parking for the "Mall" only. What mall? Oh. There is a sign on the restaurant building calling it a mall. Crap. Only metered parking here. How about this lot? Nope that says it for the diner only. Can we get through the alley to come around? Probably not, and it is impossible to tell, anyway, because there is a utility service truck in the way. In. Out. Three point turn. Turn again.

Third time around the block: Into the lot. Cross the brick street, which is closed off to make it a pedestrian zone. Still has the street sign, though: First Street. A view a little further down shows that it is dead on with the State Capitol Building. This little closed block is probably the one of the stretches of first street left. And into the restaurant for yummy pizza. My huband looks up at the sign and sighs, "I'm so tired of being new here and not being able to find my way around."

Amen.

DH and I have been doing a Springfield Pizza Tour, trying out pizza joints all over town. This was PJ #3. I will eventually post some results of the Duffield's Springfield Pizza Tour.

Besides being yummy, Pizza gives us a purpose for tooling around town and getting to know the ins and outs of the place that we live. And eventually knowing all the pizza places will probably make us feel like we actually live here and can call this place home. My nostalgic memories of living in Regensburg and Paris feel like that those places were an adventure. I explored, I trapsed, I tried new things and pushed my boundaries.

But when I am more precise in my remembering, I remember the lonliness, too. The not-knowing-where-I-am-or-sometimes-even-who-I-am. I think I chalked those feelings up to being a foreigner from another country, and I am surprised to find that they have surfaced here in familiar culture and not unknown place. And everytime someone says, "So, all settled in yet?" I want to laugh, howling laughter with a bit of derision. I usually manage a polite, "ehhh, no. Not at all. So, how are you?" Because I have a feeling that since they could even ask that question means that they are not prepared to hear how dizzyingly unsettled I still feel here. I mean I still can't find anything in my pantry, and everytime I vow to spend the three hours that organizing it will take, something else really needs to be done first before it makes sense to start that project. So, no, 24 days in and we are most definitely not settled in. I am guessing it will take about a year before we feel like we can even start to settle.

So bear with me, if I seem a little edgy about the whole thing. This, too, shall pass, y'all.