We were going to stay in Hamburg for the Christmas holidays until my husband spoke with his father. "I think they'd really like to see you," he said. "Fine," I grumbled as I booked tickets, made arrangements for our mail to be held, cancelled the paper, found a place for our cat, and dug out our suitcases. "Send them a photo." I became more excited and terrified as the day drew nearer. Excited because I haven't been back to the United States since moving to Hamburg a little over three years ago and terrified because I hadn't been back to the United States in three years. (I also really hate flying.)

During the flight, Dave and I discussed our plans for the holiday vacation. Most of them involved food: Dave wanted pizza, I wanted Dunkin' Donuts, and we both wanted pot stickers and other assorted Chinese food. We also talked about the TV shows we would like to see. I was curious about Captain Janeway's (from Star Trek: Voyager) real voice. The flight went smoothly and two of my brothers-in-law met us at the airport. The boys discussed that and this, while I looked out the window, trying to see what I could in the dark with my eyes made new by the three years in Germany. The only things I could see on the way to my in-laws' house were billboards and telephone lines.

After recovering from jet lag and the holiday celebrations, I was ready to hit the town. How would I react? I was told about culture shock. Would it affect me? Would I accidentally slip and speak German? Would I wear my grumpy, no emotion, stay-out-of-my-way face that scares little children?

Some differences I noticed right away, like the size of everything -- HUGE! Supermarket aisles, washing machines, refrigerators, even my mother-in-law's bathtub. Everything seemed gigantic. Static electricity was a shock (no apologies for the pun). Boston is a lot drier than Hamburg. Other things took some time and were of a more personal nature.

As I wandered about, I felt not like a stranger, but not like someone on familar territory. I was neither American nor German, but perhaps something in-between. When we met friends, I shook their hands. My table manners reflected my time living in Germany. I had a panic attack at the supermarket when I realized I forgot how to buy bananas. It was nice to hear meaningless chit-chat, but I found I didn't know how to respond. It was also refreshing to see smiles everywhere and not be met with a scowl or cold stare when I smiled.

My husband pointed out how much noisier it was in the United States. I also thought it was rather dreary and missed the greenness of Hamburg. I also missed the abundance and cleanliness of Hamburg's public bathrooms. Three cheers for the toilet ladies (and men)! While I walked around the city, I noticed people clutching not Brötchen, but cups of coffee (most likely Starbucks, as there seems to be one on every corner and sometimes two) in reusable travel mugs.

I nearly broke out in hives when I had to throw something away. New England has nowhere near the recycling habits that Germany has. The only item that gets recycled (at least where I was staying) is cans. Everything else is thrown in the same trash bin -- paper items mixed with bottles and other junk. Sometimes I couldn't bring myself to throw out a juice carton and would leave it on the kitchen counter for someone else to take care of. I'm sure my in-laws thought their son married a lazy person.

Eating out wasn't traumatic. I knew what to do without having to watch someone. I liked being shown to a table, the huge portions (which I had packed up for breakfast the next morning), and being given water without asking - with ice. There was no place to hang coats, and no dogs (which I sort of missed), but it was nice to leave not smelling like a chimney. A couple of times the waitress was being too efficient and tried to take my food away before I was finished. The food tasted different, even though it was stuff we had eaten most of our lives. Dave enjoyed his pizzas - they come sliced - and I liked my chocolate glazed donuts. The pot stickers were good as well, but chicken fingers taste better in memory.

While we didn't watch a lot of TV, it was refreshing to learn news on the day it happened and not the next day and to get cultural American news from sources other than Jay Leno. I was shocked to see the kids on the TV show "Home Improvement." When we left for Hamburg they were little kids and now they are all grown up. I never got a chance to hear Captain Janeway.

I saved all my bags. My husband looked concerned when he saw my collection. I forgot that taxes and tips are not included in the price and almost got into a "discussion" with a cashier when the price that was rung up was a bit more than what was marked on the item. At the Museum of Science, Dave and I got on the escalator to go up to the second floor. After a few minutes, we noticed we weren't moving. And a few mintues later, when we still weren't moving, we realized that the escalator was broken, not automatic! I also found myself speaking slowly, preparing and rehearsing each question like I do here. I know people thought I was a bit slow in the head or not from these parts, all things which I am now used to, but I didn't feel as much of a source of entertainment as I do here.

At last it was time to go back home. Yes, home. Beim Schillingstift, Hamburg. Dorothy said it best: there's no place like home. When all is said and done, the United States is just a place like any other; home is a frame of mind. Home is where you aren't concerned with being American, German, or whatever. Home is where you keep your favorite coffee cup, where you look forward to being at the end of the day, where you can eat cold lasagne standing in front of the open fridge.