Sunny with a Chance of Storms

Tomorrow is my Aussie work team Christmas day out. The weather is forecast to be sunny and 34 (or 92 for you Camericans). We'll be sailing, or catamaraning, to be more exact, then having a nice lunch, followed by some cricket or perhaps another drink or two, for those of us who can't drag ourselves from the pub to the dry zone. Add to this the fact that after over 4 years in the Southern hemisphere, I finally feel settled in and am looking forward to the holiday season in the heat, and I should be totally stoked. My bag is packed with sun tan lotion, a hat, a scarf, and a mango slicer, but I've lost my enthusiasm. A little after 9am perhaps, a sound such as that you might hear coming from a local mosque started to grow louder. Slowly, my co-workers gathered at the window. (Keep in mind that I've seen Australians march in the streets every few months these past couple of years that I've had the privilege to work in my current job.) The men went first, and then the women all joined hands and gathered onto the road, slowly beginning their own chant, and helping to hold up hand made banners, giving name to Imam Hussein. Apparently, he was a martyr killed in 680AD and this walk was part of the traditional Ashura commemorations, a Muslim holiday season of sorts. Unfortunately some of my co-workers decided it was an appropriate time to vent their personal opinions. The Muslims must be protesting, it was assumed, and perhaps because they had not yet turned Australia into a Muslim state. Traditional festivities in local schools are no longer going ahead, and it's the fault of the foreigners. Dear god, this is Adelaide, and we certainly wouldn't want any changes! If you've seen the world headlines today, you'll know that not all marches went on peacefully today, with only background noise. One wonders if any of those out on King William Street today might have been out in the crowd of which almost 30 people were killed today, had they not been given refuge here in South Australia. Don't get me wrong; I love coming into work and seeing a Christmas tree and reindeer on display, but I'm not always sure it's worth the trade off. I think we foreigners need a catch phrase. We're queer, We're here! is already taken but the simple fact is, we're here. We're here to stay. We're here and we all need to be accepted. We're here and we need to be able to bring our traditions with us, and celebrate who we are. If we aren't accepted, we can't integrate, and if we can't integrate, what does the future of Australia look like. Pretty bleak, I think...

Virgin, You've Failed Me

My consideration turned to intention, but the experience didn't come near to meeting my expectation. Not considering the fact that online check-in and airport kiosk didn't work on my reservation, or that the pilot never announced that we would be 20 minutes late to our destination on the outbound flight, or that we were welcomed onboard 30 minutes before landing back in Adelaide on the return flight, Virgin did not do it for me. The reason why would be the flight attendant's reaction upon hearing my accent when I ordered a ginger beer. The conversation went like this:
FA: "Are you on your honeymoon!?"
Me: "No."
FA: "Oh, ummm....well it's just that...your rings are so sparkly."
Me: "Ok."
FA: "So how long are you travelling in Australia for?"
Me: (becoming annoyed) "The weekend."
FA: "Oh, but how long in total are you travelling around?"
Me: "I'm going to Perth for the weekend."
FA: "Yes, but where are you from?"
Me: "Adelaide" (thinking - you dumb %#$@ I live here)

End of conversation. Expats - do you hate this the way I do?

Why Don't you Tell me What you Really Think?

Remember the last time you broke up with someone and suddenly, your friends started telling you what they really thought about that person? He/she wasn't good enough for you, was boring, loud & obnoxious, or just plain lazy and irresponsible. (Not that I've ever dated anyone like that.) I sold my car last month. Remember this car? This is the car I used to make excuses for, was embarrassed to drive, and secretly wondered how long was going to be around. My acquaintences used to comment that its flaws weren't that bad and that it was perfectly reliable for my needs. And then I sold it. Suddenly, people wanted to know how far I thought the new owners would get on their road trip to Darwin. Comments started coming along the lines of "This new car is soooo much better. We were worried about you in that car. That car was bad!" I wonder what they all think of my husband...and my house!

Are you a Trailing Spouse?

The trailing spouse is often defined as one who makes the move abroad to follow a partner on a work assignment and due to visa restrictions, is prevented from seeking employment for themselves. These spouses are often seen as either living a luxurious, carefree lifestyle, or being bored and neglected. It's a narrow definition and one that I think should be broadened. Many of us end up expats out of circumstance rather than choice. While I wanted to live abroad, Australia wasn't on my radar. Now that I've settled here I like it, but I definitely followed my husband, and I have often felt that the term trailing spouse applies to me. Did you ever consider yourself a trailing spouse, and if so, why?

Singapore

It's true - the more I use Facebook, the less I blog. It's as though short, brainless utterances are replacing proper writing. On that note, let me tell you about Singapore. One of the best things about living in Australia is work life balance, and over Easter, we had a 5 day weekend, so we added a couple of days and off we went, on the shortest international flight we'd been on in over 5 years. This was our first international trip in just as long (that didn't involve seeing family or moving) and was well deserved. I was looking forward to going to a new place that had a diversity of cultures and a reputation for amazingly varied cuisine. We did eat well, see a lot of new and old architecture, and experience a variety of culture, but there was something I didn't love about Singapore. I can't quite put my finger on it, but the place almost had a Disney like feel. It was just too touristy for me, or perhaps we just had too much time there, but it felt like there were too many expensive little alcoves built simply to relieve visitors of their cash. That being said, I'd recommend Singapore for a stopover, or a 3 day stop on a visit to Asia, and perhaps, while I'm slogging through Thailand on one of our next trips, Singapore will look heavenly.

Coffee Anyone?

One of the differences between working in the US and Australia is that, working as an Executive Assistant, I'm expected to do menial tasks for those above me, such as getting the coffee...and occasionally even being sent to pick up lunch. I can remember only once being asked to go get lunch for a boss in the US as he was running late for a meeting, and he apologised profusely for asking. Nowadays, I'm very often asked to come into a room, take drink orders, then go make the teas and coffees. I keep my mouth shut because I like my workplace, and I know the culture is different here, but I still find it a bit off. I don't think secretaries in the US have gotten coffee since the '80s, or perhaps it began in the '70s with Iris Rivera's protest. If you're an admin, do you make the coffees, and where do you live?

The Rest of my Life -or- Now What?!

2002
Paris, France (March)
England & Ireland (Aug/Sept)

2003
Ireland (March)
Montreal (August)
Ireland (Aug/Sept)
Northern Ireland (November)

2004
Northern Ireland (June - Sept)

2005
Scotland (March)
Wales & England (May)
Ireland (December)

2006
Amsterdam (February)
Paris (April)
Prague (April)
Northern Ireland (July)

The above is off of the last page of a blank book I've used for recipes for over 10 years. I have listed trips, from 1998 to 2007, at which point I moved 'Down Under'. When I pulled it out the other day, I realised I hadn't added anything since then, and then I realised aside from travelling around Australia and going home to the US a couple of times, I haven't really been anywhere in about 3 years. When I say I haven't been anywhere, I mean I haven't been outside of the country, which for me is a big deal since, as you can see, I used to do a lot of trips overseas. In addition to that, I'd lived in 5 different countries since 2004, so being in the same country for the past 3 years has felt rather stiffling. I decided to do a bit of a google on settling down after travelling. While I don't remember exactly what words I used, I came up with blogs such as the Grounded Traveler, the Rest of my Life, and one where I found this quote: "After so many years in perpetual motion, it's difficult to accept settling down and staying put." Ain't that the truth, I thought! After years of thinking about where I wanted to end up, putting some plans into action, and seeing some outcomes, I'm grounded. I'm married, I own a house, and I live very far from anywhere I can get to within a reasonable amount of time and in a cost efficient manner. Add to that, there are only 3 countries Adelaide Airport has flights to directly, and there goes my habit of doing a quick trip abroad on the weekend. So, the question is, now what? How do I avoid being a boring married homeowner? How do I keep life exciting? And how do I continue to do often what I love best - travel, particularly while I'm still paying off my grad school fees and renovating a house? I haven't quite figured it out yet, so I'll have to check back in later. This, right here...this blogging, is one of those things I do that makes life a bit more interesting. I may do it less frequently, and my voice may have changed over the years I've been doing it, but it somehow helps me to touch base with that part of myself that is always forward looking, thinking about what may be still to come.

Turning Wine into Water

Today marks one year and one day at my current job (well, when I began this post a few weeks ago anyway). Last year, at my first staff meeting, I was called upon as a newbie and asked a few introductory questions. I'm not sure my new boss liked either of my answers. In addition to coming up with the Big Rocking Horse as my favourite South Australian tourist destination, I answered that I never make New Year's resolutions. It's true. I find it pointless to make a resolution simply because it's expected based upon the time of year, particularly since most of those resolutions deal with the same old tired things people typically aspire to but never achieve. I'm making an exception to my rule this year, however. Two things spurred me to action. One was seeing a magazine advertisement for FebFast, which is the idea to give up alcohol for the shortest month of the year. Similar to Movember, participants usually donate to register, and collect donations from supporters, but I'm too cheap for that, so I'll simply cheer myself on. I'm going to replace all that alcohol with water and see if it makes any difference to my newly acquired allergies and the frequent dehydration I feel living in South Australia. Would love if it made a difference to my waistline as well! The second thing that made me realise I needed to make some changes was finding out that a new friend was moving away. The truth is, Expats move more often than others, and since I hang out mostly with expats, some of the friends I make are not going to stick around. I'd grown a bit lazy and complacent, not getting around to planning a monthly Expats in Adelaide meet up, but realise it's a good idea, no matter how many friends you have, to keep meeting new people. So far, I've gone 4 days without any booze, and the 2nd yearly expat meet up is this week. Perhaps I'll call these my Australia Day resolutions since I'm a month late!

I Have Arrived

An epiphany is described as having a sudden realisation. This happens when you can all of a sudden see the larger picture, or find the missing piece. I had an epiphany the other week. I realised that I finally have enough friends that more than one are sometimes free on the same night. It may sound like something small, but when you come to a new place and start out knowing no one, this is huge. I'm almost 3 years into life in Adelaide, and it did take well over 2 years to get to the point where I've felt as though I'm not so all alone. We often take our relationships for granted when we live in a place our entire lives, so to suddenly be without any (aside from our new spouse) can be extremely isolating. I've often compared making new friends as an expat to dating - we meet up with new people, in public places, for a drink or a meal, and see if we have anything in common other than the fact that we're looking for someone else to relate to. If we get along well enough the first time, we try again, perhaps adding in a movie or other such social event. Often times, after a few months of getting together, we realise we just aren't that into each other, and we move on. If we do find that we have some things in common, we spend a year or so getting to know each other better, until we're comfortable enough to just ring up one day out of the blue to meet up for lunch. It's work, which is probably why, after going through the dance a few times and securing some friends, we stop trying to make new ones. One thing we should learn from the expat friendship quest is that working on new relationships should be ever present and ongoing. In addition to the fact that expats move on much more frequently than those who live in the place they've grown up, and we'll lose everyday friends due to this, we become more aware (or should do) that meeting new people enriches our lives. I never ever make new year's resolutions, but I'm going to start this year by making it an active goal to keep meeting new people, at a time when I could become complacent simply because I do finally have some mates.

I Feel Emasculated

I just realised that I've begun this post twice, in draft form. I only got as far as the subject line, but an interaction with my neighbour just now reminded me that I wanted to write about the topic. In my 3 years of living in Australia, I have realised that, much moreso than in the US, it is difficult to get men to acknowledge, listen to and communicate with you if you are a woman. One example - our neighbour has been using our driveway to get access to his own backyard, in order to install an inground pool. As a result of doing so, we need to organise a new fence. Here in Australia, both neighbours on the side of the fence being put up have to agree to the type, size and colour of the fence, and split the cost. (This means you have 3 different sets of neighbours you have to work with to get the fence done around your house, by the way.) In the beginning, M_ next door would come over to chat to us about the fence, but only communicate with hubs. He barely looked at me, and he certainly didn't ask my opinion. Granted, hubs lived here a few years without me and M_ doesn't really know me, but it is obvious I'm the wife, which means the fence is my fence as well. It's taken over a week to get any acknowledgement. When hubs went next door to talk to M_ about the fence, he simply advised me he was going, but didn't suggest I come with. Had I not insisted in being involved in the discussions taking place, I'm not entirely sure my opinion would have been requested. This seems to happen a lot with Aussie men; you have to work harder to be heard. Never before living here have I realised that there is not a feminine equivilant to the word emasculation. There should be.

P.S. In this instance, the title should perhaps have been, Good Fences Make Good Neighbors (and that's with a u, as Robert Frost was American).

Devastated

I had my braces taken off today, 6 months after they were put on, and approximately 1 1/2 years after the fall that caused me to eventually need orthodontics. While I was explaining to the hygienist who I'd never met before (because that's who takes the braces off and fits the retainers here) about the fall, she asked how I felt when it happened. I paused, and then said...devastated. I never thought about how I felt when it happened specifically, and people have never asked; they only say "well that must have hurt." I thought all the time about 'if only' it hadn't happened, and was upset about it, but never put a particular word to it. But, it was devastating. Here I was, one year into life in Oz, not really having a good time of it - house renos sitting undone, husband working late, hating my job, and there I go and literally fall on my face, and my dentist 10,000 miles away. There were dental appointments, endodontist appointments, splints, bonding, very sore teeth, a bite that was off, not able to eat certain things (only graduated to being able to eat a sandwich without being in pain a couple of months ago), and then braces, for the 2nd time in my life. It has absolutely sucked. The end is in sight however, with just some major and minor cosmetic work to be done, fingers crossed. It felt good to say out loud today..."I was devastated." So I'm glad that hygienist asked me how I felt, even if she did then proceed to crack the bonding right off one of my teeth, but then that's another story.

The Siren Song of 'Home Leave'

The expat going home for a visit doesn't typically term it a holiday or vacation, but calls it home leave. We take time off to visit family and friends, and if we're lucky we also get to relax and refresh. In order to do both the former and the latter, we need an employer that will allow appropriate time off, because you can't quite do it in a week or two. I'm lucky enough, finally, to have a boss who didn't blink an eye when I asked for 5 weeks off. And at the end of the day, I'd leave a job that wouldn't allow me time to spend with my family. But that's getting off the original topic.

Generally, expats feel a pull between two identities - that of the person he or she was in our homeland, and the person we have become in our new home. At no time is this feeling more present than in the midst of home leave. I left Australia, as a (finally) proud South Australian, and landed in Chicago wanting to raise my arms up and clap upon landing in my home town. Here in Oz, I am a wife, a homeowner, and sometimes, an outsider. In Chicago, I feel like a diva. I whip around on expressways (on the right side of the road), I stay out late and challenge the bouncers at my regular drinking establishments, I know the customs... I can shop late, request an apple martini with Absolute Mandarin without the bartender looking confused, and ultimately, just feel like I belong. To be honest, I was afraid to leave - knowing that confidence wouldn't quite follow me back to Adelaide. There are always tears in the airport, and the relinquishment of the Chicago Susan. And there is the feeling that the confidence, power, and ease that comes from being in one's own environment isn't really worth giving up. And then I get on the plane, and 30 hours later, upon landing in Adelaide, the siren song of home slowly dissipates. Within a few days, I realise that Australia really is becoming home for me. I like my house, my marriage is maturing in a wonderful way, and I love my job. The pieces are falling into place, far from where I come from, and while I may not be Chicago Susan, I'm happy with the person I am becoming.

Being One of the Gang

I have a somewhat blunt & immature way of expressing myself, as my 'friends' on Facebook know. For instance, I think Julia Gillard is a bit of a *#$!. Something that bugs the shit out of me lately is the attitude towards immigrants in Australia, and it didn't help that she pandered to public opinion by stating that 'we don't need a big Australia.' So I take it that means she doesn't want me here - or is it just the supposed undesirables that arrive on the boats. To that I say, we are one and the same, aside from the fact that I had a bit more of a choice, and I can go and see my family whenever I want. When people talk about immigrants and foreigners in front of me, I thank them for being so considerate. And they often state that they mean the bludgers, not me. Well, guess what - I happen to be an immigrant, and as such, I too sometimes feel as though I'm not a perfect fit. After spending heaps of time feeling as though I don't belong here, I finally decided it was time to get over it. The turning point was probably when the clerk at Foodland asked me where I was from (see my earlier post). I've decided that from now on, I belong. The change in personal attitude changes the way people react to me. Try it.

The Unfriend

I've been doing a bit of Facebook clean out the last few days. I'm 'unfriending' people who I never speak to, who I perhaps added as a result of one or two meetings, as well as those acquaintences who only seem to come onto my page to insult me. The problem with Facebook friends is that only a small minority of them are actually that. Most of the people you link with don't really know you very well, and vice versa. You often link with folks who aren't very mature, and can't grasp the idea that it's ok to agree to disagree. I have a lot of strong, sometimes controversial opinions, which have their place. I don't voice them at work, or among certain family, but I do sometimes talk about them on Facebook. I'm often amazed by the lack of respect others show for an opinion differing from theirs. On the other hand, the bonus is that, while in a new country and trying to make new connections and friends, I can easily suss out the ones that I'm not interested in keeping by posting an occasional opinion;)

The Slow Track

I love my 'new' job, but it has been absolutely full on lately. We're down a few staff, which is both a good and bad thing. It's good, because it gives me an opportunity to pick up new projects and challenges across different areas, and...well, not bad, just a tad tiring. It's made me realise that after years of feeling bad that after a proper education, I was just an administrator, I'm actually quite glad that I've only slowly moved up the food chain. If being down a few staff has made me busy, it's got a couple of my managers running around like chickens with their heads cut off. Makes me glad that I haven't yet gotten to the point in my career where I'm just someone else's bitch.

How to Make Waffles in Australia

....with a US waffle maker, that is. Spot the transformer?

Adelaide Zoo

I forgot to share my zoo pics. This is what I get for posting things on Facebook - too many social media outlets! I can say that Adelaide Zoo is fairly impressive, and this is coming from a Chicago girl (we have 2 zoos and one of them is even free). The pandas are all the rage these days and bringing heaps more tourists to Adelaide. Here's Wang Wang in all his glory - no shame at all, this one!

You Been a Good 'Ole Wagon...

There's nothing like growing up spoiled to make you suffer when it finally comes time to make it on your own (meaning, buy your own shit when there's no one around to give you new or almost new stuff). I've talked about my beloved 1st car, and well appreciated 2nd car...and my absolute bomb of a 3rd car/1st car I bought on my own. This car I have now is just waiting to get defected. She has a power steering leak that isn't worth fixing. Someone let their dog chew the parking brake handle off. The last owner obviously hit something on the the front passenger side, and kept on going until a big gash was created all the way back to the back door, then filled it in with Bondo and used white spray paint, which rust is now showing through. I think someone poured Coke all over the back seat, and I recently found a half-eaten package of Tic Tacs in the crevice where you fold the back seats down. Today I was asked to take one of the work cars home for a few days....a 4wd diesel. I got home an hour a half ago and I'm still giddy. My husband, the petrol head, still doesn't realise how much we have in common when it comes to loving cars (I love the new and he loves the fast) so he laughed at me when I rang him to talk about my wonderful drive home. Keep your fingers crossed for me I get to keep this one a few days. Regardless, old wagon...sad to say, but you are soon on your way out.

The Novelty of the Day

One of the common irritations of being an expat is being constantly asked, at the beginning of a conversation with a stranger, where one is from. It didn't bother me so much at the start of my days abroad, but at this point in time I'm over it, particularly when it comes from the local checkout person. Yesterday while hubs and I were paying for our groceries, the lady behind the till said..."And where are you folks from?" Stunned out of my flirty discussion with my man about how I'd snuck an extra chocolate bar into the cart, I turned my eyes to our lady with a glance that asked if she had two heads and said, "We're from here." Of course I got a confused look back, so I followed up by pointing to hubs and stating "He's from here. I'm from Chicago...but I live here now." That led to the usual questions about how long I've been here, and whether I like it. I realise people can't help asking, but it seems like just when I'm being most at home, I'm treated like an outsider. It gets on my tits, gives me the shits, and will probably be the same 20 years from now. My mom said the reason the checkout chick knew I was a foreigner was because I'm rude;)

The Path to 'Normalacy'...or...It's Fun to Reflect

(Happy Bday Trang-ster!)

Post-Steve

Just look what my husband has done to me. I read an article many years back about the new STDs, meaning bad habits you acquire as a result of a new relationship. I've had many incarnations over the years. I used to have a shaved head (and a few other unique haircuts). Now, I use a straightener:/ I blame the old man....