What was supposed to be a 3-week stay in the Old Country was cut short by an unusually persistent heat wave that affected a large part of the entire Old World. The peat bogs outside the city began smouldering, and the smoke was trapped in the windless hot air for days. It was not an easy time to feel patriotic nostalgia for the city of my birth; yet even the heat and smoke brought memories of a similar heat wave in my distant childhood in 1972, when such calamities were the care of adults and did not bother me at all. I studied the cover of my Canadian passport in detail and read the Latin inscription in full for the first time: Desiderantes meiorem patriam, a mari usque ad mare. Wishing for a better homeland, from sea to sea - and it was already mine. I called Air Canada, waited on hold for the requisite 15-odd minutes, and was never more grateful to pay $750 to have my return trip advanced by an entire 9 days. I can now pretend that I am on a luxury 9-day holiday for a mere $87 a day, sitting on the balcony looking at the snow on the peaks of distant mountains, planning a drive down to the ocean, a walk through the forest redolent with fragrant pine resin and a swim in a lake filled with clear glacier waters. And the sheer luxury of breathing crisp fresh air. This gratitude may not last much longer than the 9 days I "paid" for, it rarely does, but it is always very strong after a visit to the Old Country.
I had cut my visit short for very selfish reasons: the stay was no longer enjoyable (this was new), and I had nothing to give to my mother or country by sticking around (this was nothing new, and one of the reasons I had emigrated in the first place). I was brought up to understand that my relaxed and meandering way of doing things would make me a loser if not an outright victim in a country that does not suffer fools gladly. Fortunately, Canada does; Canada is paradise for ...people of modest ambitions, shall we say. And after a good decade and a half of catching my breath and being left in peace, I understand that it was never Russia that was merciless to me and my choices. It was my own dear mother who, of course, "only ever wanted the best for me" but whose stern authority I had mistaken for the attitude of an entire country.
I agree, going on a vacation from work is expensive, my doctor friend had to pay her reliever equal to the number of days she will out. But there's no place like home, it's still worth it.
ReplyDeleteSorry to have found your blog so late - your writing is lovely and your thoughts refreshing.
ReplyDeleteAnd sorry to have found your comment so late. I have neglected the blog, and intend to correct this.
DeleteThank you!
how strange to read it. i thought russians have a special nostalgia for their homeland when they are away from it even for a while. of course i never was to russia and couldn't say. you know better anyway.
ReplyDeleteAs it happens, I have been feeling more nostalgic for the country of my birth of late. Maybe it's a sign of getting old(er). I spent a large part of my childhood in England and I believe it infected me with a love for that country and the "free world," the latter used in the best sense of the word. Can a patriot love more than one country? I don't see why not. I also find it very sad and painful that Russia is presented as evil these days. North Americans are almost proud of having no history, and in a way their childish innocence is endearing. But that doesn't mean other countries have no history, or that the sins of their present leaders cancel out the country's entire heritage. My novel "Reticence" touches on this indirectly (the only way to touch on anything, I find :-)
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