Friday, September 21, 2018

3 reasons for a cross cultural family to laugh at dinner time

I had already put forks on the table, but my son got himself a pair of chopsticks when he saw we were having spaghetti.

I found it amusing. His default way to eat Italian noodles is with chopsticks. Subconsciously I thought as I was serving Western rather than an Asian meal I assumed we would eating it the Western way. But his actions makes sense, as all he's seen his whole life is people eating noodles with chopsticks. I have also eaten spaghetti with chopsticks, but only in my adult life which I would describe as 'between worlds'.


Meanwhile, Soeun is also amused. Although I think of spaghetti as a dinnertime food he doesn't. Noodles are usually only for breakfast or a snack in Cambodia, it's not a proper dinner unless you are eating rice. Even though, as an adult he has lived in Australia and many times has had to eat an evening meal of pasta.

"Like Mummy! Like Mummy!" Our daughter was (trying) to use her fork, but laughing as she did. It seemed like she also would have though using chopsticks would be the normal thing, but she was amusing herself by imitating my funny way of eating. 

So in summary: I was laughing at our son for using chopsticks, Soeun was laughing at me for serving noodles for dinner and our daughter was laughing at me for using a fork. It was a fun family meal. Eating and laughing together.



The way you eat is just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to culture. The visible, the tangible bit that sticks out of the water for all to see.  We can see how our children are learning some Western and Asian ways and it is kind of fun and interesting at this point. Their childhood is different to both Soeun's and mine. I assume as they grow up they will also be forming and learning their own fusion of ways of thinking and relating, of values and worldview. The majority of the iceberg is under the water, we can't see it, at least not at first glance.

Soeun and I are also learning a bit about each other's culture but only in our adult life, while our children are doing it in their developmental years. A big difference. And the majority of "culture" is the bottom part of the iceberg that is not so obvious.

We can already see that their 'normal' is different to both their parents. Their mother grew up eating spaghetti for dinner and their father grew up eating noodles with chopsticks. They are growing up eating spaghetti with chopsticks for the evening meal. Abnormal to both Daddy and Mummy - for different reasons.

It is likely we won't understand them by default. It is likely they will sometimes feel like they belong everywhere (with both the chopsticks users and the pasta dinner people) and sometimes feel like  they belong nowhere (who else thinks chopsticks when they see Australian style Italian food?). We hope that we'll have a family culture of eating and laughing together, where they feel they belong.

Linking up with Velvet Ashes.

Friday, September 14, 2018

To my understanding friend



So our mutual friend VelvetAshes is talking about being understood this week. I first started getting to know Velvet Ashes in Instagram, then hung out in the blog and retreat and hope to join a connection group. It’s a place I feel understood, which of course made me think of you too.

I met you just over four years ago, I can’t remember exactly how we met but I remember my first feeling. Shock. I was shocked that you knew how I felt and shocked that you expressed it so well. In some cases I hadn’t really heard anyone talk about some of these things much before. It was so nice to know someone else had been through similar experiences. If that wasn’t helpful enough you also gave me ways to deal with it.

Sometimes you give me new freeing ways to think about the struggle. For example the one about people putting on the glasses of skepticism and backing off when you're dating a local.  Or this one about not hating your husband’s ministry.  Such honest conversations!

Other times you put things in their proper perspective.  Like that time I was feeling overwhelmed about the next step for us. We needed a lot of money. Where would that come from? Then a post popped up in my newsfeed reminding me that feeling like we are small is actually a good perspective to have.  When you are in a valley, big things look big as they are supposed to. Whereas praying in high places can actually be 'dizzy and dangerous' and things look topsy-turvy.

Occasionally it feels like you are right beside me giving me commentary on what is happening, and helping me to think about how to go forward well. Like that night my fear response was taking over my logic, as we made a late night trip to the clinic. I knew my husband’s condition probably wasn’t serious but my brain was tricking me into reliving those times I thought he was moments from death. You were hinting that knowing this is actually a positive thing, and could help me serve better in the future. It's like you know what I'm going through today, and where I need to be headed tomorrow. 

And so many times you make me laugh about the stressful issues I face. Like this one about the re entry process, or this one about returning overseas (I think I laughed while reading...or was that an anxiety attack?!) 

Neither my passport country nor my host country friends can really understand my feeling about home, but you look at it from so many angles. Forbidden roots and tent pegs to name a few. And the numerous posts about saying goodbye and about being a mother come to mind. You totally "get" me!

Photo: Juniper Tree, Chiang Mai, Thailand. When I'm feeling not blue enough for my passport country, and not yellow enough for my host country I need green spaces like this!  A Life Overseas Blog is like my daily green space.
Looking back on the last few years you even knew some of my needs before I did, and managed to bring them to my attention. You always mention both counselling and TCK issues. It is as if you are assuming they should be a normal part of my life. I hadn't thought about it like that before I got to know you. Both sounded irrelevant and a bit painful based on past experience but once I started having counselling sessions and began reading about TCKs I realised you were right. It turns out that the TCK book you keep quoting from is also relevant to cross cultural kids generally, not just one narrow subset like I'd assumed. 

There are so many other posts I could mention as I thank you for being an understanding friend, and I'm also glad you've introduced to me to other blogs and books. So grateful for the way you express and explain so many of my expat emotions; and for equipping me to live well while being too foreign for here or there.

Sincerely, 
A Fan 

Photo by NeONBRAND on Unsplash

Monday, September 10, 2018

Storm at Angkor Wat September 6th


I was enjoying a nice peaceful read by myself near Angkor Wat, engrossed in a description of monsoon rain in Pakistan when suddenly yellow dust clouds started running along the road with the tourists who were hurrying out of the wind.
The ancient temple had been glowing golden in the afternoon sunshine but in a matter of minutes Angkor Wat became silhouetted against white clouds while dark dark clouds hung above. It felt like almost everything was moving- the trees dancing in the wind, the contrasting clouds above, the billows of dust, the crowds of people running, the water in the moat rippled in the dusk light.
I stayed to enjoy the storm for awhile, and watch the people running. When the dust and the strongest rain died down I rode home. It was still raining with a bit of lightening but not too windy. If it hadn't been getting dark I would have waited until the storm calmed down a bit more.
Arrived home soaked despite the poncho. And our house had lost power of course but the kids were having fun eating rice in the dark. That power cut turned out to be the last straw for our water pump.
Later on I found out others in town were commenting on something unusual too. Something quick and strong, someone said it looked like a tornado. It was kind of bizarre and awesome. 

Wednesday, September 05, 2018

Between seasons, between worlds.



Looking outside causes me to squint. Sun is reflecting off water covering our yard.  Although its been raining for a few months this week feels like a key change. We are heading into the serious half of rainy season now. If we are going to be flooded in, it will be sometime in the next 2 months.

Our yard has started to look more like a pond.
Spring photos suddenly began blossoming on my Aussie friends Facebook timelines this week. They are writing about sunshine and thinking about taking the first swim after winter. The soundtrack of my childhood Septembers was sneezing.

Meanwhile my fellow expats are posting "back to school" photos. September is the start of a new school year, the end of "The Summer" and the start of "Fall". International schools in Cambodia follow the same school year as much of the northern hemisphere. I'm seeing those photos, as well as over a decade worth of friends who were in Asia once and are now back in America etc. I first encountered this in China. It was so weird that people called July "The Summer". At least it made sense there where it was actually hot at that time of year. Expats here still call July "Summer"even though the weather is actually cooler than the proceeding months.

No mention of where we are in the Aussie school year, it must be about three quarters of the way through the year. Christmas is synonymous with end of school and summer holidays. The school year follows the calendar year.

And for local government schools here I think their long school vacation is coming up although I'm not really sure. And for the small private schools so many go to, I don't even know if they take a break. The French school is still on summer break I think.

This change in season comes just as I'm thinking about my "greenness" or how I'm most comfortable between worlds.  I first started reading TCK blogs and books for the sake of our kids. Although they don't fit exactly into the definition of Third Culture Kid, there is so much overlap. But I'm finding it useful for myself as well. From age 8 to 18 I lived in the same house, but my whole adult life I've been moving house between 3 different countries.

"...We live between worlds, sometimes comfortable in one, sometimes in the other, but only truly comfortable in the space between..."
From Marilyn Gardner's website

I just realised how much I like this quote even though I've been reading Marilyn Gardner's books and blogs for a few years.  I love the way she describes things. The sights and sounds of Pakistan, and the feeling of straddling homes. (Although I'm not sure of this quotes origin? I need to check...)
(Update: I found it! "Burqas and Miniskirts" in Between Worlds)


Giving birth for the first time. So special. So scary. Where do you want to be for this? For some their passport country seems the best place for them to be looked after. For others their host country is most convenient. For me it worked out that a "between worlds" location was ideal. A third country where neither of us had ever been, but had an expat community. Even though I didn't really know anyone there it felt easy to slot in and I'm so thankful to have shared that time with a collection of Americans who live in various parts of Asia. I had never met them before, and most likely won't see them again.

This current change in season is highlighting the between-ness for me. In my childhood September and spring were practically the same word- they even start with the same letter. But these days I regularly have people ask me "How was your summer?" They mean how was my July, and they are asking because its assumed I would have a different timetable for that month. I will probably always link this time of year to hayfever- but never again to ONLY hayfever- its now also a new school year and watching for floods. 

And then for my husband and children it's a different experience again.

Soeun is neither Australian nor any other kind of expat so September is not spring or "back to school" for him.  And despite the fact that he is a local his home life and most intimate relationships are not local.

And our children? We don't know what their childhood will end up being like apart from that it will be so different from both their parent's childhoods. They eat spaghetti with chopsticks, go on planes more than buses, say zed and zee at the end of the alphabet. And they are growing up with parents who stare at screens... I better go and see what that screaming is.

Photo by KT on Unsplash