Homesick? Nope.

After three weeks I am suffering from a mild case of what could be called "buyer's remorse"- what was I  thinking, moving to Europe????

This was supposed to be cheap! It is not being cheap!

This was supposed to be cultural! It is not being cultural!

I'm stuck in the middle of money hassles and haven't yet settled into any sort of normal life that will allow me to freely explore the city, let alone get out of it on forays farther afield. I'm still tripping over my suitcases in Hannah's apartment, trying to overcome fatigue and the overwhelming need to sleep (what's that about, anyway?), trying to cadge together enough cash to pay the deposit (and three months' rent in advance) on Musahmstrasse (have I just committed apartment-fail?), anxious about furnishing the place once I get the keys (am I stupid to have settled for an unfurnished flat?), and stressing about how little I've actually seen of Berlin (six apartments, Ikea, the Goethe Institute, one department store, one flea market, and a bratwurst stand). No museums, no Reichstag, no cathedral, not even a sightseeing cruise on the river. A lot of the Goethe Institute.

But at least I'm not homesick.

There are certainly things to miss at home - my younger daughter, my brothers, my friends, my other dogs, my furnished house; but I find that missing those things is more a noticing of differences than a homesickly yearning. (Email, Skype, cell phones, blogs and FaceBook help a lot.) Yes, I miss my daughter Sally terribly, but then I always do, whether I'm in the States or not. (I miss both my daughters all the time, and even when I'm with them I'm reminded of their childhood selves - bittersweet memories, to be sure - and am sad that it all went by so quickly. The cliche of middle-aged mothers everywhere. I hate being a cliche, but there you have it.) I miss having Saturday breakfast with my brother John and wandering the Walla Walla farmers' market, but now I have Saturday breakfast with Hannah and wander the Boxhagenerplatz farmers' market. I miss the conveniences and yes, spaciousness, of my little house on Newell Street, but find the under-the-kitchen-counter washing machine here amusing, and have adjusted to having drying racks with damp underwear in the middle of the living room on weekends. Hey! I'm living in Europe!! What's to miss???

Homesickness plagued my younger years. I was the kid who was always homesick on overnights, even just through the back fence at the neighbor's. I was homesick at kindergarten, homesick at high-school summer camp, homesick away at college. I believe I always felt a piece of myself was missing when I was away from home, some keystone that would keep me from collapsing. I stopped feeling that way when I moved to New York after college and discovered I was, in fact, fairly self-contained and reliable, becoming a competent adult, learning life skills like apartment- and job-hunting and how to master a subway system. It's hard to be homesick once you realize your home is you. Another cliche, I know, but cliches, like stereotypes, are grounded in a bit of truth.

As annoyed as I am with Berlin right now - the bureaucratic and financial glitches, the dirt and noise of this part of Friedrichshain, the kaputtnichkeit of the S-Bahn, the unsmiling people on the street, the culture of alcohol and tobacco (firearms left to the States), the difficulty with language - I'm still not homesick. In fact, I love it here. And it will be cheap - after tomorrow I won't have to pay rent again until January and my deposit I'll recover when I leave. It will be cultural - with afternoons no longer spent foraging for an apartment and furnishings I will have time to scour the Museumsinsel and art galleries. In November, after my eight weeks at the Goethe Institute are over, even my mornings will be free. Maggie especially will enjoy that. And maybe the Muse will return and I'll be able to paint. I won't even go into the puns that occur to me with the Muse and Muhsamstrasse.

Buyer's remorse? I guess not.