I was in Seoul in 1988, just in time for the Olympics. Worked out well, because they had small groups of Yanks play tourist on weekends, accompanied by Korean college kids who were set to play guides during the Games. The kids had to practice their spoken English explaining the palaces, monuments, et al, while I got to see how well my Korean classes were working. Sometimes we had to resort to writing out what we meant (written Korean—Hangul—is crazy easy to learn) because some English sounds don’t work for Koreans and some Korean sounds don’t work for Americans (well, this American).
I moved to PA from California in 1993 on my way back to New England. Never made it back to New England. Though I’ve now lived in the Commonwealth longer than I lived in my native Illinois, I don’t know whether I’d be considered a “real” Pennsylvanian or not.
Deb has told me several times she considers the months spent living with her mom totally worth the time and effort. She’s torn, obviously, between wanting things to get back to normal, and living with what that means. And while I’m looking forward to getting my wife back, this is also teaching me to be a better husband by making me work harder at being supportive.
I know what you mean about reliving the past. If I had to confront my younger self I’d be exhausted—but mostly from smacking the stupid sumbitch upside the head.