Home at last

My friend Maria over at iwasanexpatwife.com has inspired me to write my own retrospective of 2011.  It may have been a train wreck for her, but for me the train finally arrived in the station in terms of my repatriation.  What made it happen?

Finding a purpose.  For me that meant finding a job I truly enjoy, but it could easily have been a hobby, a sport or a volunteer activity.  Having a reason to get up in the morning, doing something that’s fun and being valued for it are things we all need and yet they often get blown out of the water when we relocate.  This is my third job in 2 years, so it has been a bumpy road.

Making friends.  This past year I’ve acquired a few more new friends and acquaintances.  I don’t think it’s coincidence that they too had (or still have) international lives.  I’ve also reconnected more deeply with old friends and I suspect that’s partly due to the fact that I, and they, no longer feel I’m about to pack my bags and head out again any time soon.

My family’s settled.  I guess this is very much an expat wife thing, because we’re notorious for getting our families settled before looking after ourselves.  Although we all repatriated at different times, I now feel both my husband and son are happy and settled, or at least as much as TKCs are likely to be.

This is the same list you’d make for adjusting to any new location, but there’s no doubt that repatriation adds a huge extra layer of complexity.  For us, a period of unemployment during a particularly difficult economic period created additional stress, but the emotional baggage of who we are now vs who we were before expatriation was the killer and affected every aspect of our lives.  Having said that, like many of life’s major challenges, it has been a time of learning and growth.  Perhaps every dark cloud does have a silver lining.

Many expatriates don’t have a home to come back to, either because they’ve been global nomads all their lives or have permanently cut the ties to what was home.  But for us knowing we had not only a country, but a house to call home, was an important touchstone during those inevitable down days of life overseas, so I don’t regret it.  However, during the early days of culture shock when you repatriate and find home doesn’t feel comfortable, safe or even pleasant anymore, it’s like having the rug pulled completely out from under you.  No wonder it takes so long to re-establish a sense of security and comfort.

So what now, going forward?  I’m really not sure and, given past experience, I’m not sure I want to know, LOL!  But one thing I do know is that I am a forever-expat.  I continue to rejoice in my expat friendships, my volunteer work with Families in Global Transition and the Toronto Newcomers Club, so please continue to watch this space.

Career choice and the Accompanying Partner

I try not to indulge too frequently in the game of “I wonder what would have happened if …” as I prefer to look forward rather than backward, but if someone seriously asked me what I wish I’d known then (before I became an expatriate) that I do know now, it would be about the existence of expat coaches.  Was there such a thing back in 1996?  I don’t know and even if there were, I don’t know how I would have found one back then, but now having met many both in person and through social networks, I can see it would have been helpful to brainstorm with a professional as I dealt with the transitions from country to country and through various stages of my life.

Two who I feel I know well through their blogs and tweets are Louise Wiles (Success Abroad Coaching) and Evelyn Simpson (The Smart Expat).  They have just launched a survey on the attitudes of accompanying partners of expats towards work and career.  Louise tells me:

The survey will explore the choices accompanying partners of expats make regarding whether or not they work as well as delving deeper into the reasoning behind each individual’s choice. Finally it will consider whether or not there is a connection between career choice and overall satisfaction with life.

We believe that understanding more about those choices will help accompanying partners with their decision-making in relation to international assignments and will also help organisations to more effectively direct the resources that they assign to supporting accompanying partners.

The survey is totally anonymous and participants are offered the opportunity of entering a Prize Draw as a way of saying thank you. Prizes include two coaching packages and two books.

To access the survey, click on the link 

All participants will be able to receive a copy of the summary report which will be available early spring 2012.

 

 

 

 

 

My Halloween Howlers

Candy?  Check.  Pumpkin?  Check.  I’m all ready for Halloween.  As a new immigrant to Canada 30-odd years ago, determined to “become Canadian,” I embraced this new and exotic celebration but didn’t always get it quite right.
Soon after arriving I was invited to attend a Halloween party.  What fun!  I looked in my closet to see what I could use as the basis for a costume and my eyes immediately fell on my traditional English duffel coat.  Perfect.  I would be Paddington Bear.  But what I’d overlooked was that this classic British children’s story was almost unknown this side of the pond.  I spent most of the evening explaining who I was to everyone I met.

You really would’ve thought I’d learn from this experience.  But no, a few years later I did it again, this time dressing up as Noddy.  “Are you an elf?” the children who came to the door asked.  I was crushed.  What kind of deprived upbringing had these poor Canadian children had?

When we moved to Azerbaijan, I was determined to share this important part of North American culture with the local students who visited me once a week to practice their conversational English.  All went well as I described the dressing up, candy and pumpkins.  My mistake was to try and explain some of the ancient beliefs behind the celebration.  As I started to talk about spirits rising and walking the earth I could see them eyeing each other nervously and shifting in their seats.  What kind of voodoo was this crazy Kanadka promoting?

Despite my best efforts it seems I really haven’t MASTERED Halloween.  How well have you adapted to celebrations in your new country?

Friends and food

Where do you keep your recipes?  When I first went overseas I had a motley collection of pages torn out of magazines and handwritten scraps of paper which I tucked inside a 1937 cookbook I’d inherited from my mother.  That old recipe book stood me in good stead as I learned to cook in a country where convenience food was almost non-existent.  In many ways it helped me change the way I cook forever, but in time I grew weary of sorting through all the bits of paper and decided to create my own cookbook of family favourites.

It took time to type them all into my computer, but once that was done I could print them out and put them in a 3 ring binder.  Every time we moved countries I’d ditch the binder (one less thing to pack) and print them out again when I arrived in my new location.  Along the way of course I picked up lots of new recipes from the people I met. These ones were special and I would usually name them for the people who gave them to me.  So I have Olga’s Beans, a wonderful stew of beans, dried fruits and caramelized onions, Milli’s Chicken and Rice, her Louisiana speciality and Angele’s Lemon Meringue Pie, an out-of-this world confection and just as easy to make as a can or packet mix.  My latest version of the 3 ring binder is even decorated with many of their photos.

Today is World Blog Action Day and the topic is food, hence this post.  However I’d also like to use this opportunity to ask you to contribute YOUR recipes to a project I’m involved with which is the Families in Global Transition Cookbook Project.  Proceeds from the sale of the book will help to provide scholarships to their annual conference for students, volunteers and non-profits.  And if you want to know which recipe I contributed, you’ll have to buy a copy

English As She Is Spoke*

When I first arrived in Canada it came as quite a surprise to me to discover I spoke a different language, despite having emigrated here from an English speaking country (the UK).  Aisha, a more recent arrival, wrote a great blog post listing the new words she’s had to learn and I made the following comment.

“I will always remember my first day of working in Canada in 1979. I was sent downstairs to the coffee shop to buy coffee and muffins. I looked high and low for “muffins” but all I could find were “buns”   Returning without them, a patient but amused colleague had to take me back down again and explain what “muffins” were in Canada.”

Like many immigrants I was determined to pick up the lingo as soon as possible in order to become “Canadian,” and I quickly learned to say “tomayto” and “garbage” instead of “tomahhto” and “rubbish.”

While this was my first encounter with another form of the English language, it certainly wasn’t the last.  In Baku I discovered a surprising number of locals were fluent in English, even though they’d never met a native English speaker.  All their studying had been done from textbooks written in the 1950s and long playing gramophone records of similar vintage from the BBC.  As a result they all spoke like the Queen   You can imagine their confusion when they encountered English speaking oil workers from Aberdeen and Houston.

I frequently found myself playing the role of interpreter between the English speaking expats.  “I’m going for ma messages, hen” (I’m going shopping, dear) would baffle the Texans, while any American reference to “fanny packs” would turn the Scots pink with embarrassment.

Amaliya, my Russian teacher, once asked me how to pronounce “ask.”  Was it a long “a” as in “park” or a short one as in “pack?”  She wasn’t happy with my answer that both were correct.  In fact even within the UK both are correct, depending on which part of the country you’re from, and don’t even get me started on my Louisiana friend who would say “Can I aks you a question?”

In Dubai there were South Africans, Australians and New Zealanders with their breezy slang, “no worries, mate” and “come for a Barbie” as well as the Indian tailor who made me “a trouser” (pair of pants), the Pakistani taxi driver who picked me up from the “backside” (rear) of my building, and my young Filipino friends who went “malling” (shopping) at the weekend.  This funny blog post lampooning “Dubai English” which it describes as a cheerful combination of Arabic, English, Hindi/Urdu and Tagalog spoken with a sing-song accent will make you smile if you’re familiar with any of those cultures.

I love the fact that so many people have taken English and changed it to suit their circumstances, whether as a first, second, third language.  Not only does it make life much easier for me, lol (my attempts to learn other languages haven’t met with much success) but it also makes for a bubbling hot pot of words and phrases that tickle my senses.

Now that I’m back in Canada I’m doing my best to speak “Canadian” again, but find I’m reluctant to give up all the fun vocabulary I’ve picked up along the way.  Perhaps I’ll settle for speaking a bit of everything; it suits my new hybrid identity.

*”English As She Is Spoke” is the title of a 19th century book intended as a Portuguese/English phrase book, notorious for its dreadful but humorous translations.

No more goodbyes

As August draws to a close it’s a time of year when many goodbyes are being said. Vacations are over and expats are heading back “home.” It’s also a time when many expat teenagers are packing up and leaving for university, an exciting and scary time for them, and for parents a time of anxiety mixed with pride over their soon-to-be independent offspring. But all involve goodbyes.

Our repatriation two years ago wasn’t planned. As I tried to get my head around it and find the positives in the situation, one of them was that there would be far fewer goodbyes in my life. I had always hated saying goodbye to expat friends as they moved on and goodbyes to my son and friends in Canada after our annual visits. The life of a global nomad is full of goodbyes.

When we set off on our last expat assignment we left our then 18 year old son behind in Canada at university. That was probably the most difficult goodbye of all. As we waited in the front hallway for the airport taxi to arrive, he said wryly “Isn’t it the kid who’s supposed to leave home to start university?” I cried all the way to the airport and the birthday card he sent me, just a few weeks later, didn’t help any either. But the excitement and activity of setting up a new home soon distracted me. At least I was spared the heartache of walking past his empty bedroom every morning.

He has a knack for always choosing great cards. He also calls me “Chief,” reflecting my true status in our family

We soon fell into a routine of emails and Skype calls, he came to visit us for Christmas, we visited him during the summer. If I count the hours we spent together, we probably had as much time in each other’s company as many non-expat families and yet the goodbyes each time we parted never got easier and the next visit seemed aeons away. I believe expat life brought us closer together as a family. We three were close before we started living overseas and perhaps that helped us to deal with the transitions.  But I also think the shared adversity, dealing with the initial strangeness and loneliness each time we moved, made us more reliant on each other and brought us closer than before. It’s a good thing, except when you have to part.

So my heart goes out to those who are currently saying goodbye and I’m relieved I’m not amongst you. I know it may not always be this way. One day no doubt my son will move away, or who knows, maybe we’ll move away again. But until then I’m happy not to have to say goodbye.

Third Culture Kids starting careers

I recently had the pleasure of hosting a pot luck dinner for a bunch of young adult Third Culture Kids.  Alaine Handa and her dance company were in town, performing at the Toronto Fringe Festival and they came together with several others connected with the local TCK community.

As we chatted the conversation naturally turned to these young people’s careers.   All were at some stage on the path to establishing themselves in the working world and several were living outside their home country or not in the same country as their parents.  Anyone with a 20-something child knows how difficult it is these days for young people to get a start.  Getting any job is hard, and there are often many false starts and changes of direction.  From my own family’s experience I know it is hard when kids can’t tap into their parents’ network of contacts, friends and colleagues.  Many TCKs haven’t held part-time jobs through high school and trail competing candidates when it comes to local work experience.

Watching my own son look for his first job, together with my own job search upon repatriation, was an eye-opener for me on how much the working world has changed in recent years.  Internships and contract work are the norm, as are many more part-time jobs with evening and weekend hours than used to be the case.  Employees, even freshly minted grads, are expected to perform “out-of-the-box,” with little or no training and flexibility is key.

While TCKs may lag their contemporaries when it comes to contacts and experience, many of the common characteristics of TCKs will stand them in good stead in this new environment.

• The ability to adapt quickly to new situations
• Willingness to relocate
• A sense of urgency (let’s do it now, before we move again)
• Self confidence and independence
• Observational skills
• Fluency in more than one language
• Cross cultural skills
• A global network of social contacts (which may eventually turn into business contacts)
• A big picture view

Far from being at a disadvantage, I suspect that today’s TCKs have a significant advantage over their stay-at-home counterparts.  Certainly these particular TCKs seem to be taking it all in their stride.

Repatriation – Two Years On

It’s time for my annual report on the state of my repatriation.  Last year I optimistically wrote “I’m gradually putting my life back together again.”  Looking back I think I was trying to convince myself that was the case.  After all, things SHOULD have been going well.  I had found a job which OUGHT to be have been perfect for a trailing spouse and my husband had started a new job in Canada, after spending most of the first year of our repatriation working overseas again.  In theory all the pieces of the jigsaw were finally coming together.

But of course life never runs as smoothly as you would wish and that’s certainly very true with repatriation.  Just when you think you’re finally getting over it, there’s a setback; three steps forward and two steps back.  I found my new “perfect” job to be isolating and as my husband dealt with his reverse culture shock upon repatriating, I relived it all again through him.

So by the beginning of 2011 I resolved to find a new job and eventually in April started working for a couple of Toronto’s top real estate agents.  It involves many of the skills I’ve acquired along the way and enjoy using – administration (I started life as a secretary, back in the day when that was a job title to be proud of), real estate (I worked for 15 years as a real estate appraiser), social media (my newfound interest since repatriating) and relocation (my last gig).  It’s busy, interesting and the people I work with love what they do, which makes for a very positive atmosphere.

This last year I’ve also, FINALLY, made some new friends right here in Toronto who understand my expat experience.  Not that my long-distance friends aren’t important, but I need to have people I can talk to face-to-face sometimes and it’s got me out of my internet cocoon.  For that I also have to thank my last job in Destination Services, because that did at least get me exploring and reconnecting with Toronto again.  As an admitted computerholic, I’ve been very bad at taking my own advice about getting out and meeting people.

So now, two years on, I can truly say that I’m glad to be here, and when my husband, who is still struggling with his reverse culture shock, muses about the possibility of going overseas again, I’m not instantly exhilarated and ready to pack my suitcase again.  Which is not to say it won’t ever happen, just that it’s good to feel good about where I am now.  It’s taken a long time and I will enjoy it while it lasts.

Expat Kitchens – the good, the bad and the ugly

Miss Footloose’s post on her bizarre new kitchen (and bathroom) in Moldova, got me thinking about the sheer number and variety of kitchens I’ve lived with while we were overseas.

The first one in Azerbaijan had a magnificent floor, and the cupboards weren’t bad, but the oven didn’t work and the fridge wouldn’t get colder than 13C in summer.  And let’s not talk about the cockroaches and those ghastly pink wall tiles which were covered with layers of grease when we arrived.

Kitchen number 2 in Azerbaijan was a huge improvement.  It was literally the apartment above the old one, so essentially the same layout, but soooo much nicer and with brand new appliances that actually worked!

Kitchen number 1 in Dubai was in villa and certainly was large enough.  But which bright spark decided on the white floor tiles?  With a constant trickle of sand blowing in under the ill-fitting door, all it took was a few drops of water to turn it into mud.  That floor was never clean for longer than 5 minutes (during which this photo was taken).

Our kitchen in Cairo was as lovely as it looks . . . apart from the complete lack of air conditioning.  The landlord told us we were supposed to have a maid to cook for us, hence no need for air conditioning in this room.  Unfortunately it was me who was literally sweating over a hot stove.

Dubai kitchen number 2 was the largest kitchen I’ve ever had.  It was so big that I never did fill all the cupboards and so some were given over to spare bedding and hobby supplies.  It had a great view facing west with some fabulous sunsets.

Dubai kitchen number 3 was a lot smaller, but open plan to the living and dining room, which I liked.  I hate being shut away in another room when I’m cooking as I like to be able to chat and socialize while I chop and stir.

Last one – kitchen number 4 in Dubai (yes, we moved a lot).  This was the smallest of all.  So small in fact that there were more appliances than cupboards.  It’s a good job the supermarket was only a 5 minute walk away as I really couldn’t store more than a day or two’s food at a time.

Interestingly, whether well or poorly equipped, large or small, I still managed to turn out pretty much the same meals without too much difficulty.  A valuable lesson learned, now that we’re contemplating renovating our kitchen in Canada because now I know that spending thousands on fancy layouts and equipment will do nothing to improve my cooking skills!

Frederick Moments

Expat life gives us lots of magical memories that you cherish always.  In our family we call them Frederick moments.  “Frederick” is the title of a classic children’s book by Leo Lionni, one of those books that children think is funny, but make parents reach for the Kleenex.  I can’t explain the story better than the summary on Amazon.ca:

While the other field mice work to gather grain and nuts for winter, Frederick sits on a sunny rock by himself. “I gather sun rays for the cold dark winter days,” he tells them. Another day he gathers “colors,” and then “words.” And when the food runs out, it is Frederick, the dreamer and poet, whose endless store of supplies warms the hearts of his fellow mice, and feeds their spirits during the darkest winter days.

Frederick moments are times like these:-

A picnic on the beach in Azerbaijan with my ESL student friends.  Typical western woman, I’d spent hours making salads and sandwiches which they looked at in amazement. For them a picnic meant everyone piling in a ramshackle car, a quick stop at the bazaar to pick up fresh fruit, cheese, bread and some soft drinks, and then a day spent alternately swimming, playing and chatting.  So relaxed and easy.

Telegraph Island, Oman.  On a weekend trip from Dubai, we took a Dhow (traditional wooden boat) trip off the coast of the Mussandam Peninsula, where the Arabian Gulf narrows down to the Straits of Hormuz.  It’s the site of an old telegraph station (hence the name) and supposedly sparking the phrase “going round the bend” for the poor souls posted to this desolate spot in 1865.

My friend, Helga (pictured here), seems to attract Frederick moments with her inquisitive nature and disarmingly simple charm.  Here we were exploring the summer Majilis of the old ruler of Dubai.  Cool and calm, it was an oasis in the hustle and bustle of that modern metropolis.

I now make a mental note of Frederick moments, bookmark and file them in a special place in my mental hard drive.  There are many which I don’t have photos for, and yet they are just as clear, if not clearer in my mind than those shown here. Everyone has these “stop and smell the roses” moments, but some of my expatriate ones are the sweetest.