“Everybody knows your name…”


(Not the ubiquitous London greeting, but the former TV sitcom)

I’m back in Greenwich, CT for the month of July where everybody literally does know my name.  Or at least it seems like it.

Oddly enough, this feels like yet another one of our expat adventures.  I have settled in to a lovely old country house, situated on the Long Island Sound.

The place is roomy enough to accommodate us and whatever friends make their way to visit.  The view is lovely, the ocean beckons for a daily swim, the breeze keep evenings cool on the patio for dining al fesco.  The grill is fired up, the fridge is full, and the bar is stocked with enough Mount Gay rum to keep Jimmy Buffet happy.  The sun keeps shining, and the days are long and hot just the way summer is meant to be.  There are lots of recreational activities available with a boat at our disposal for tubing and skiing, a golf course and tennis courts near by, and a beach just down the street.  It is the ultimate vacation experience.

Of course, the best part is that this place is stocked with familiar faces everywhere I turn.

We have been home for just over one week.  Once again, it feels like we never left.  I happened to glimpse some of  ESPN’s coverage of Wimbledon the other day.  Wimbledon is just a few stops away from my London home on my local tube line.  People were huddled under umbrellas and bundled in extra layers, tarps were strewn over the courts, and match play was inevitably delayed.  The perennially gray London weather feels very far away.  The whole experience feels far away.

I am an obvious expat abroad.  But in some ways, I feel like a kind of expat here too; a frequent visitor rather than a permanent resident.

However, for the moment I could not be happier than to sidle up to the proverbial bar in the neighborhood where everyone knows my name.




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