Waterlogged & Homesick

Woke up this morning hoping the waters had receded... Cracked an eye open and took the hyper puppy out to the yard and realized if anything, the surprising brown river at our front gate had risen overnight. Hauled the puppy back upstairs and retreated beneath the covers for a few precious minutes, but not before a few pangs of homesickness swept over me. I knew this would come eventually, this longing for the soft familiar comforts of Chicago, but it wasn't supposed to hit this soon. In fact, if it wasn't for the flooded streets out here, it might not have surfaced for months...

But there it is. It's the smell that brought it on. Anyone who has ever spent any time in Asia will tell you that in the warm season, in the less developed areas of tropical countries, there's a certain odor you'll sometimes encounter. Jerry Seinfeld, in the famous "Betrayal" episode where George & Elaine go to India for a wedding, is asked by George upon their arrival, "what's that smell?" Jerry takes a whiff and responds nonchalantly, "I think it's the stench of death." Those of us who travel know what he's talking about. It's the redolent smell of trash and shit cooking in lower latitude sunshine, that wafts out of open gutters and the occasional fly-blown heap of refuse. You find it in pockets, usually, and dismiss it the way everyone does on their way somewhere else. It can't be helped. The problem with how I'm feeling now is there's a river of stagnant standing water at my front gates that reeks of the same odor. It's one thing to encounter this smell on occasion while passing by, it's another when you have to physically wade through it to leave your own home. We've been knee-deep in this murky brown liquid for two days, and it's grating on me. You might manage to avoid thinking about what's in the water as you wheel open the front gate and splash a few hundred yards out to freedom, but the smell stays with you, filling your nostrils, and you can feel it on your skin long after the residue has dried... This was not what we signed up for...

But then again, I spent 6 years in Bangladesh, where the flooding is much worse. Thing is, I never had to wade through it to get out of my front door, so this experience feels novel. I've seen pictures of this kind of flooding every summer, though, not only in Asia, but most recently in Memphis, TN, and all over the southern USA, and of course from those horrible images of New Orleans following Hurricane Katrina. The specter of our house filling with stagnant water, though, is a lot more immediate than anything I've ever seen on the news, and it's illuminating because of the reactions it's bringing up in me. They say the water will go down in a few days. I believe that, and I know we'll be fine here. Thing is, the scent will remain, filling the crevices of my memory... I just wish, quite selfishly, as it turns out, that this wasn't happening just as we're trying to make a home here. But the best travelers adapt. And that's what me and Becky do best... And to put things in perspective, there are a lot of other people here who are a lot worse off, who own property and homes that are filled with water, where with us, it's only lapping at our front yard. I guess that brings home the old adage, that's a good reminder to always keep in your mind: "there but for the grace of God go I..."