a permanent foreigner.

This is a space for a European-American to write. Currently pausing, largely, in Bologna, Italy.

Until recently, I witnessed history in the making in Washington, DC. I landed in my capital city during the longest shutdown in the history of the federal government, went to the steps of the Supreme Court the night RBG died, and remained under curfew on January 6th. On that day, I was living less than a mile from the Capitol Building. Those who had been at the Capitol walked below my apartment building, and the next day, fences went up across the city; I biked through checkpoints to reach the university where I worked. Still, below my office, the Potomac River continued to flow towards the Anacostia. I found home in DC. At home hiking in Rock Creek Park. At home sharing Ethiopian Food with friends. At home discussing geopolitics and foreign policy at universities with professors and practitioners.

“Took the first thing smoking on the runway out of here.” - Frances Mayes.

Before DC: I went to school near, but not close enough to London. Studying languages at a university in the UK took me to Vienna, Austria, and then to the Flemish college town, Leuven. The German language taught me the idea of Heimat. After university, and with limited time left as a European Citizen, I headed to Krakow, Poland, and Le Marche, Italy, to teach. In the United States, I’ve also explored home in Chicago.

Inspired by Isherwood, I was “determined to become a permanent foreigner”. But, am I still a foreigner? Writing creates a space to share experiences grappling with Heimat while out in the world. More recently, auras have emerged pulling me from the present like deja vu. Perhaps I’ve always been pulled elsewhere?