TARGET RUN
From the beginning, I missed Target. At first I believed it was a sign of culture shock. I had language fatigue and had reached a point in my Costa Rican shopping when I wanted to be able to walk into a familiar place and find exactly what I needed, without having to figure out which store to go to, how to get there, and how to ask for it in Spanish. The night before our first return to the States after moving to Costa Rica, for Christmas, my husband and I were sipping our holiday toddies, sharing what we looked forward to the most about our impending trip. He waxed on about seeing his family, and how much time he hoped to spend with his brother. “Target!” I blurted out before I could edit myself. I can’t wait to go to Target.
Stateside, I made two ridiculously pricey trips to Target, one on the day before returning to Costa Rica. I am somewhat embarrassed to admit that I actually got a little teary in the check-out line.
While I know a lot of women in the States who love Target with a similar fervor, I still thought my deprivation in Costa Rica had made me a bit extreme. Until. I was talking with another American expat mom. Coming to the end of her somewhat emotionally tumultuous three years in Costa Rica she told me, “I almost think I could make it here, if only there were one SuperTarget really close, you know?” Shortly thereafter, I asked another expat American friend if she ever got homesick. I was particularly curious because she is truly a Third Culture Kid, having been raised around the world, and having lived in the US for only a handful of years. “No, not really. Just for Target.”
It was then I knew it wasn’t just me.
So what IS it? What is it about Target that becomes a beacon for all that we miss about the United States? Is it the polished Americana? The slick ads of composed, stylish and creative moms? Convenience and variety, surely, but why doesn’t Wallmart or Kmart hold our attention? Somewhere, a brilliant marketing executive is smiling; I’m hooked.
Three years later, I am surprised to realize that I am dreading my upcoming summer Target run. We joke now with other expats about maintaining a shopping fund for trips to the States, because we all spend so much money. We berate ourselves for how we live without so easily here. Without the 52 varieties of organic baby food, endless selections of Father’s Day cards and toothpaste and olive oil. And then we are immersed in the culture of consumption and immediately succumb to it.
Some of it is the simplicity here. I am used to not being overwhelmed by advertisements or news or sheer variety in laundry detergent. Some of it is fear of missing terribly what I do not have regular access to: Kosher salt and children’s Advil and inexpensive T-shirts that make me feel like I might be cool again someday.
Alas, I have felt this way before. Living abroad over time you become detached from your American-ness. It’s not that I have become more Costa Rican, it’s that my field of vision has grown wider. I can stand back from the US and see it, not more clearly, but less as the center of the universe. I see that there are other options, other ways to live, other ways to view this life. It is both freeing and restricting. By being able to see more than one center of the universe, you by definition can no longer belong exclusively to any one center, and this feels a bit lonely sometimes.
Perhaps a new T-shirt will help me feel better.