A last glimpse of Sydney as we fly out of Australia. Great view of the Harbour Bridge and Opera House

The homeless duo travel via Qantas to the USA.

From Brisbane we connected in Sydney, then it was off to DFW and finally Atlanta. My last glimpse of Australia was a great one. From the window leaving Sydney, I had a fantastic view of Sydney Harbour, including the Opera House. Not a bad way to say goodbye. (picture above)

Seventeen-plus hours on an airplane gives you plenty of time to contemplate the important things in life. Like why airlines spend billions designing seats that turn into beds but apparently haven’t figured out how to stop the guy in 14B from sharing his respiratory system infection with everyone else on the aircraft.

Rather than lie-flat seats, I wish airlines would offer a private filtered air supply.

Sure enough, within a couple of days, we both came down with nasty colds. Seventeen hours breathing recycled air with 300 strangers. Who could have possibly seen that coming?

For me, it really has been a while since I’ve spent any meaningful time in the USA. Cindy has visited a couple more times, while I haven’t really had a reason to.

So, after being away for years, are you ready for my immediate observations?

First stop — Tex-Mex.

There are priorities.

You can travel the world and eat some spectacular food, but every now and then you want chips, salsa, queso and something enormous covered in cheese that arrives on a plate hot enough to remove fingerprints.

America delivered.

Welcome home.

Advertising. Holy crap.

The constant bombardment of advertising is overwhelming.

In our rental car, I started hitting the radio presets looking for some music. Lawyer. Commercial. Insurance. Commercial. Talk. Commercial. On about the tenth try, I actually heard a song.

Apparently, music is now what they play between advertisements.

Television is even worse. It’s a constant barrage of injury lawyers, insurance companies, pharmaceutical companies, weight-loss drugs, Medicare plans and people suffering from diseases I didn’t even know existed.

The pharmaceutical commercials are particularly entertaining. A happy couple who appear to be ethnically neutral walk hand-in-hand along a beach while a soothing voice explains that the medication they’re taking may cause liver failure, suicidal thoughts, spontaneous combustion, and death.

“Ask your doctor if Blahblahblah is right for you.”

I think I’ll pass.

And the obsession with losing weight through drug assistance is everywhere. Commercials, billboards, television, magazines.

Does anyone like the way they are?

Everything is expensive.

Things are much more expensive than I remember.

Since the price of diesel has increased worldwide — and I’m going to refrain from assigning blame because I don’t have six hours to argue with people on Facebook — transportation costs are hitting Americans especially hard.

The USA is huge, and most goods travel enormous distances by truck. That cost eventually ends up on the supermarket shelf.

And wow, supermarket prices.

There are moments when I look at something, look at the price, and wonder whether I accidentally wandered into the airport gift shop.

Then there is the wonderful American tradition of displaying one price and charging another.

“$9.99!”

Great.

Then comes sales tax.

Then perhaps a service charge.

Then a convenience fee.

Then a suggested 25% tip.

By the time you’re finished, your $9.99 sandwich requires financing.

Everything is farther away.

This is a weird one.

Things are much farther away than I remember.

We used to think nothing of hopping in the car and driving from our house to Costco. The trip took about 30 minutes — one way.

Apparently, we considered that perfectly normal.

After years of living in places where we mostly walked, suddenly a 30-minute car ride seems like an expedition requiring provisions and perhaps an overnight stop.

“What do we need from the store?”

“Milk.”

“Okay. I’ll see you Thursday.”

America really is designed around the automobile. Massive roads, massive parking lots, massive stores and massive distances between all of them. I really miss the public transportation options we’ve become used to in other countries.

On the plus side, after you’ve walked from the far end of a Costco parking lot, you’ve probably burned enough calories to justify the hot dog.

Our phones don’t work.

Of course they don’t.

Most of the world managed to agree on many of the same cellular frequencies.

The USA looked at that arrangement and apparently said, “Nah. We have a better idea.”

They did something similar with HDTV.

Our Australian phones therefore became expensive pocket calculators shortly after landing.

We bought temporary Straight Talk phones from Walmart and plan to hang onto our Aussie phones for when we get into Europe.

Buying a mobile phone plan in America is also quite an experience.

Unlimited data!

Excellent.

Except that unlimited doesn’t necessarily mean unlimited.

And hotspot data is different data.

And premium data is different from regular data.

And your unlimited data may become somewhat less unlimited after you’ve used an unspecified amount of your unlimited data.

I miss buying a SIM card and simply having a phone.

People are nicer than I remember.

This one surprised me. My only exposure to people in the USA has been via social media. And, we all know how that is.

For the most part, cashiers chat. Strangers say hello. People hold doors. We’ve had random conversations with people in stores and parking lots.

Maybe we’d forgotten that part of America.

Or maybe after years of moving through different countries, we’re simply more inclined to talk to strangers.

Either way, it’s been nice.

Many people seem pretty miserable in their jobs.

This one is harder to explain.

We’ve encountered plenty of friendly people, but there also seems to be a noticeable number of people who clearly would rather be anywhere else than where they are working.

You walk up to a counter and occasionally get the expression that says:

“You have interrupted what was otherwise shaping up to be an excellent day of doing absolutely nothing.”

Customer service can range from genuinely fantastic to making you feel as though ordering a cheeseburger has created a major administrative burden.

Perhaps that’s always been the case and I’ve just forgotten.

Tipping.

Well.

Need I say more?

Apparently, everybody gets a tip now.

Restaurants? Of course.

Bartenders? Absolutely.

But now the little screen gets spun around at seemingly every counter.

You are told to “Just answer a quick question.”

There it is.

18%
20%
25%

For handing me something I just paid for.

I’m waiting for the self-checkout machine at Walmart to ask for 20%.

And the worst part is the guilt. The employee is standing three feet away watching you decide whether their performance in rotating an iPad deserves $4.

America has somehow managed to turn paying for something into a moral examination.

On a personal note, if I were a business owner, I would rather pay my staff a livable wage (like the rest of the world) and have them treat all customers with equal professionalism and courtesy. Instead, the USA extends great service to only those customers who tip well. And from the customer perspective, it feels the staff are only nice because they want a big tip. There is nothing genuine about their friendliness.

So, where are we?

Right now, we’re in Atlanta for a short time.

This is where the bulk of our worldly belongings have been stored, and we need to lighten the load of 8 large suitcases while we search for a place to live.

Opening storage boxes after years away will be interesting.

Some things I expect to say:

“Oh! I’ve been looking for that!”

“Why the hell did we pay to store this?”

Apparently, past Mark and Cindy believed Future Mark and Cindy would have an urgent need for all sorts of crap.

Future Mark and Cindy disagree.

So there will be sorting, donating, throwing away and repeatedly asking the important question:

“Why do we own this?”

Then all of our stuff will be in one place for the first time in years. Not sure where this will be just yet. For the first time in a very long time, there isn’t really a next destination already decided.

It’s strange.

And kind of exciting.

I think our storage unit is full. I can’t even remember what is in there.

So-called AI is in everything.

Apparently, while we were gone, artificial intelligence took over civilization.

Every company now has AI.

Phones have AI.

Cars have AI.

Televisions have AI.

Search engines have AI.

Toothbrushes probably have AI.

I’m thinking about buying some AI socks.

They’ll analyze my walking patterns, optimize toe alignment, connect to the cloud, and send me a monthly report explaining that my left foot is underperforming.

Naturally, they’ll require a subscription. And, perhaps a tip.

American bread is horrible.

I had forgotten this.

After spending years buying bread in places where bread contains flour, water, yeast and salt, I’d forgotten that American bread apparently requires an engineering department.

Why does bread need fifteen ingredients?

Why is it sweet? Did you know France classifies American bread as cake since it has so much sugar?

Why can a loaf sit on a supermarket shelf long enough to qualify for Social Security?

And why, when you squeeze it, does it return to its original shape like memory foam?

That’s not bread. That’s a building material.

I recently saw “fresh baguettes” in the store. Ha! Fresh from being unfrozen.

There is good bread here, of course. You just have to find the small section labeled “artisan,” where somebody has rediscovered the revolutionary European concept of mixing flour and water and then charging $8.95 for it. Look for the tip jar at the counter.

And everything is enormous.

I’d forgotten this too.

Drinks are enormous.

Cars are enormous.

Pickup trucks are enormous.

Supermarkets are enormous.

Restaurant portions are enormous.

You order a Coke and receive enough liquid to extinguish a small house fire.

We ordered food the other day and when it arrived, my immediate thought wasn’t, “That looks good.”

It was:

“Apparently we’re eating this again tomorrow.”

Maybe that’s the biggest adjustment to being back.

America does very little halfway.

It’s loud. It’s convenient. It’s frustrating. It’s friendly. It’s expensive. It’s excessive. It’s entertaining.

And after being away for so long, we’re seeing things we probably never noticed when we lived here.

We’re tourists in our own country.

For now, anyway.

I am standing mid-way in a Wal-Mart Supercenter. I forgot how massive these stores are. Wow!

Walking into a grocery store is overwhelming. Being able to buy EVERYTHING on our list without going to another store is wonderful

Public transportation — welcome to MARTA.

We decided to take the MARTA train to the Atlanta airport. After years of using public transportation in Australia, Europe and other parts of the world, I wasn’t expecting luxury. It’s a train. Get me from here to there and I’m happy.

But holy crap.

The trains and stations were disgustingly filthy. Everything looked tired, worn and neglected, as though someone had built the system, handed over the keys and then collectively decided that maintenance was somebody else’s problem.

It didn’t look old in a charming, historic sort of way. It looked old in a we haven’t spent any money on this in decades sort of way.

Dirty car floors, stained surfaces, battered interiors and infrastructure that seemed to be begging for somebody to show up with a pressure washer and a checkbook.

And that’s what struck me. Atlanta is a major American city with one of the busiest airports in the world, yet the train taking you to that airport feels like something the city has simply given up on.

We’ve used trains in cities all over the world. They aren’t always new, and they certainly aren’t always spotless, but there is usually some sense that somebody is looking after them.

MARTA felt like nobody had been looking after it for a very long time.

The good news? It got us to the airport.

The better news? Apparently my tetanus shot is up to date. I’ll live.

When we used to live in Atlanta, I used to think how nice and clean it was. Now it just looks worn.

Where Next?

We’re just getting started. Next stop is San Antonio, Texas, where we discover that renting a car is more confusing than we ever could have ever imagined. Stay tuned.

HOLY COW! Look at the size of these spuds. Everything is bigger in the USA.