I walked into the condo and it smelled like America.

Do you know what I mean when I say "it smelled like America"? I'm not sure I can explain it properly. It's this unique smell that's fresh and cozy and infused with good memories from my childhood when I utterly idolized this country and treasured those first moments off the plane. It's the smell of clean, carpeted American homes, with closely cut grass and pantries full of Lucky Charms and bread that's impossibly soft. It's the smell of bright Saturday morning cartoons, fantastical meanderings through the Borders young adult section, and breathing in the bounty of Meijer.

That's the smell of America. Coming back to the country after 7 months it is heaven. I started the unpacking process the first night (then it stalled for about 3 days), and was appalled to find that my clothes all had an odd, basementy smell. I attributed it to my suitcases having been carelessly stored while I was in Japan until I found the clothes I had worn the day before. They hadn't been in storage at all and they still had that odd, sour scent to them. Complaining aloud, I tossed a shirt to Evan to see if he could identify the smell.

"That's the smell of Korea," he said.

"What?"

"That's how both of your apartments there smelled."

Korea had a smell? Korea smelled like this? Astonishing how repulsive I found it once I was out of Korea. I decided to forgo the massive laundry load, and the next day the smell had already begun to fade. My clothing has already adapted to American life.

I, on the other hand, have not.

I met Zina for coffee today in Kerrytown. It's the first time we've seen each other since high school and it was really great to see her. After we parted ways I walked over to State street to make a hair appointment. Walking though the streets of my old town was surprisingly nerve-wracking. I can't remember the last time I felt so conspicuous. An odd statement, coming from the curly-haired white girl who just spent the better part of a year in Korea. But in Korea, I was a foreigner - and obviously so. Foreigners can get away with a lot. We're not held responsible for conforming to society because we so clearly don't belong.

Suddenly I'm back in a society I don't stand out in. When people looked at me in Korea, I knew it was because I looked different. I stopped noticing the stares, and when I did catch one, all I felt was a little kick of pride. When people looked at me in the streets today I had no idea why they were doing it. Was I doing something wrong? Were my clothes out of style? Did they know something I didn't?

It's a bizarre form of culture shock that sent me scuttling back up north to hide behind condo doors. Baby steps. Baby steps back into this city that once belonged to me wholly.