A Decade of Expat Adventures

January 2018

This week marked a day of significance for me and my family. The anniversary of a day that changed the course of our lives in ways both good and bad. It’s always that way, the good and the bad, right? So yes, at the start of January in 2008, my husband and I left our suburban home in the SF Bay Area and moved to India. That means we have been living outside of the United States for ten years. A decade. A large chunk of my life. I remember being at the airport in San Francisco, surrounded by suitcases, cats in carriers, and family. The youngest daughter was coming with us to India, our first expat destination, but the rest of the family were staying, including my then 16 year old son who I wasn’t quite ready to let go of, a tough decision that I’ve never quite recuperated from. But we felt the move was the right thing to do and so, through excitement and tears we waved goodbye and started our journey.

Kolkata Kids - Kolkata, India  2011

Landing in India was overwhelming, the airport was a loud, chaotic, unorganized confusion to me. I remember getting to our temporary housing in the middle of the night. It was spare and lit by florescent bulbs that made it feel cold and grey. While unpacking and getting settled I kept finding little sea shells in the corners and counters of the apartment. India was so fantastical, so exotic, what did these shells mean? Surely they were some sort of a blessing or offering? A good luck charm or something? I tucked one into my pocket and asked our relocation agent about it. He looked at me funny and said it was probably just some shells that the housekeeper had found and didn’t think they should throw away. I didn’t believe him and was convinced they held some deeper meaning. How could shells be so specifically placed, as if with intention, and not hold meaning? Yes, later I realized that they looked very like the shells that are cheaply strung and placed over your neck when you arrive at the coastal resorts of India, but at the time I was convinced that these shells had deep significance.

Living in India required me to get used to all sorts of things. I got used to living in a bigger house than I had ever lived in before. I got used to having a driver to chauffeur us from place to place. I got used to having a housekeeper who cleaned our marble floors daily and cooked delicious Indian food for us. I got used to a gardener who “mowed” the lawn with a glorified pair of scissors. I also got used to meeting and associating with other expatriates from all over the world. We would stand next to each other at events, smiling through our confusion as we were photographed by the local paparazzi - feeling amused the next day when our staff pointed out the photos on “Page 3” - the local society pages. It was wild and a bit exciting, but like I said, both good and bad.

But I met some amazing people from all walks of life while in India. The start of many deep friendships - people I still stay in contact with to this day. One friendship even led to my eldest daughter meeting her future husband!

Following our time in India we went on to live in the Philippines, China and of course now in Poland. Each place has presented us with amazing opportunities and challenges. Learning to navigate these new and different cultures is never easy and managing it has taught me much. It’s not just learning some of the local language so that I can convince shopkeepers and employees not to run away from me, it’s also learning things like where to find light bulbs? Where can I get post-it notes? Where can I find cheese and wine and peanut butter? Things that were once basic necessities can be non-existent or remarkably different in other countries.

Inside Outside - Hangzhou, China 2015

So, this expat life. How has it changed me? I think a direct result of living outside of your home country is that it opens up your mind to other ways of understanding the world. I have learned to reserve judgment, to listen first, to speak softly (loud Americans are definitely a thing) and to strive to learn from the perspectives of others. Living as an expat has allowed me to see many different countries and cultures. Traveling extensively, often with my camera on my shoulder, is something that has opened the door to situations that my suburban self might have balked at. But, I’ve never been one to shy away from new experiences, and so I have embraced the discomfort and have become a different, more global, person.

Tangqizhen, China 2016

I know that this sojourn won’t last forever. At some point we will head back to the US and start a new life there. It both terrifies and excites me. Will my new self be able to settle back in to a life I no longer know? Will I get itchy feet and need to travel often to make me feel sane? I really don’t know. But I do know that this new person I’ve become is one I feel comfortable with. I have learned, as we moved from place to place, how to remake myself and how to adjust to different surroundings. Whatever the future brings, thanks to this expat life of mine, I know that I can call on a sense of humor and a tolerance for any discomfort that life might throw my way. And if I find any small shells hiding in the corners I will tuck them into my pocket for good luck.

Auto View - Bangalore, India  2016

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To be Thankful

Perhaps you've seen it, the "30 days of Gratitude" thing. I couldn't do it. Too much. First, you really don't want to see 30 posts from me about little things that I'm thankful for. I'm "loquacious" and would have had a hard time keeping it short and sweet. I have a lot of respect for those who can carry off such a thing (both the 30 days posts and the non-loquacious thing), but I guess, it's just not me. But GRATITUDE, dude (can I say dude? Yes, yes I can), honestly, that's a big deal in my life. It's something that I can't live without and is a part of my daily reality.

My life hasn't always been easy. I know, none of us necessarily has it easy. But I've been put through the ringer in life. I've been knocked down, I've been put in my place (often rightfully so), and I've struggled to get through those days when there is no hope and little happiness. And the thing that helped me to get through it all - gratitude. Every night, before I went to sleep, I would think of something, one LITTLE thing that I was grateful for. There's always something. And it doesn't have to be big, as a matter of fact, I think it's better if it's not big. Because it's when we pay attention to the little things in life that we are really and truly present.

When I was a girl, I used to have a bookmark, I probably still have it in a box somewhere. I got this bookmark at a stationary and gift store in my home town. I remember they had cards and gifts with beautifully written slogans on them along with artwork that was of the cute and sentimental variety, kind of like "Precious Memories" before there was such a thing. Anyway, the bookmark. I remember finding it on a rack, white satin attached to a firm plastic back and had the words of a poem embroidered on it in blue. There were lots of bookmarks there, all of which had inspirational quotes, pictures and poems on them, but it was this one that spoke to me and I purchased it. Of course I used the bookmark, a lot because I was a reader, and that poem has stuck with me to this day. Today, in honor of Thanksgiving, I offer it here to you, as a reminder of the little gratitudes in life that are important.

Little things

Oh, it’s just the little, homely things,
The unobtrusive, friendly things,
The “Won’t-you-let-me-help-you” things
That make the pathway light.
And it’s just the jolly, joking things,
The “Laugh-with-me-it’s-funny” things,
The “Never-mind-the-trouble” things
That make our world seem bright.

For all the countless, famous things,
The wondrous, record-breaking things,
Those never-can-be-equaled things
That all the papers cite,
Can’t match the little, human things,
The “Just-because-I-like-you” things,
Those “Oh-it’s-simply-nothing” things,
That make us happy, quite.

So here’s to all the little things,
The everyday encountered things,
The “Smile-and-face-your-trouble” things,
“Trust God to put it right,”
The done-and-then-forgotten things,
The “Can’t-you-see-I-love-you!” things,
The hearty “I-am-with-you!” things
That make life worth the fight.—Grace Haines

Happy Thanksgiving to you and yours.

-Cindy

Fear Itself

There are many different types of fear. Often they relate to personal histories, to past experiences of pain or discomfort. They can relate to general self-flagellation tendencies, our beating ourselves up because of an imagined sense of unworthiness. Fear can come from anxieties about failure, or even about success! For the most part, these are the types of fears that we deal with on a regular basis. Usually they are based in exaggerated or unfounded feelings. But sometimes, sometimes our fears are grounded. Sometimes they are a rightly directed survival instinct that we have to pay attention to.

I recently had to go to a doctor. This was not something that was planned. It was a response to a simple equation: something that happened + a little bit of Googling = "Get to a doctor." So, I took a deep breath and called a doctor, the first time I've done so since we moved to Poland last year. No disrespect meant to any who work in the medical field, but I don't like going to see doctors. I've had too many experiences when I went for very real complaints, only to be told there was "nothing wrong" with me. I don't like giving over control of my body. I don't like taking medicines. And I definitely don't like going to doctors in a foreign country. It just sort of multiplies the unknowns, ya know? Anyway, I sucked it up and went to the doctor, a very nice woman who spoke excellent English, and - she wants me to have a surgical procedure to figure out what is going on. I was very composed at the office. Trying to understand what I needed to do beforehand and where to go for what. I made my way home in a bit of a daze and then - the FEAR hit.

I felt queasy. I felt jittery and panicked. I was confronted by a huge wall of "what-if's" and got stuck in a mental loop of imagining the worst case scenarios. I felt a distinct sense of discomfort in what I was going to have to experience and give myself over to. This was a deep fear of the unknown. Over the course of the day I spoke to several family members, and while it was good to talk to them, it didn't make the fear go away. I collapsed on the couch and pulled out my journal. I'm a stress journalist. When I'm upset, confused, or just pissed-off, I write. It helps me to sort out emotions and to feel a bit clearer. But on this day, I opened my journal, stared at the blank page and - I had nothing. There were no words. So I simply wrote, "I feel numb." Then, a funny thing happened. I pulled out another notebook where I have been exploring writing ideas, and turning through last month's pages, I found this:

Sometimes the terror creeps up on me; an anxious little rat clawing at my gut, a voracious vermin that resides in the pit of my being, waiting for a tidbit of fear that it can latch on to. Then, with fear firmly in its maw, it feels emboldened to come and root through my garbage, digging out the tastiest morsels, bringing them into the light and feeding, feeding, feeding upon my soul, leaving nothing but empty husks behind.

It's exhausting...

What do we know of our future? We can plan and imagine all we like, but the unexpected flick of Destiny is always at our shoulder waiting for her moment to intervene. We think of Destiny as being a positive being. Someone who brings a gift from the God(s). But diamonds have to polished, right? That gift has to go through its own bit of chaos in order to reveal its beauty. So Destiny may be our BFF, but she's also a bit of a bitch.

Huh. Where did that bit of writing come from? This was from several weeks ago. Is it synchronicity? Perhaps. But regardless of whether this was just a bit of a coincidence or whether my muse is laying out shining pebbles in my path, it was an interesting bit of writing to stumble on to. First, it allowed me to take a step back and visualize my fear as something that was small. Yes, it was powerful and definitely opportunistic, but I don't have to feed it, and more importantly, it's not ME. Secondly, It allowed me to recognize that I don't know what is happening, but like many hard situations I have faced in my life, there is likely a gift that will come out of this whole thing. I was reminded of the Litany Against Fear from Frank Herbert's Dune, “I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain.”

How often do we let fear shut us down? How much is it feeding on us and taking away vital energy that is rightfully ours? My muse may be awesome, but does my fear make sense? Perhaps, it is definitely related to a future that is as yet unknown to me. It is definitely about a sense of discomfort with medical procedures. But, I am a firm believer that we are never faced with anything that we can't handle and that even the most desperate situations can help us to learn something.

So, after I read this I reflected on it a bit and spent a few minutes just breathing, in and out, counting from one to ten, and I focused on just letting it go. And you know what? I felt better.

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