Dear Newbie

 Dear Friend,

I’m so excited to hear you are getting ready to leave your passport country and move to my host country. It’s great to hear about all the preparation you’ve been doing over the past few years to get to this point. Now you’re at the point where you actually have to think about what to pack!

You asked what apps were good for language learning. Sounds like you are eager to get a taste of the local language even before your formal classes start. From the way you asked, it seemed like you assumed I would know. It took me a while to realise my answer:  I used cassette tapes when I was at your stage.

Read the rest over here: A Life Overseas- Dear Newbie

I Used to Laugh at Ghosts

 

“Aren’t you scared while your husband is away?”

“I’ll lock the door at night, and the windows have bars on them.”

“Locked doors can’t keep out ghosts.”

I don’t think I actually rolled my eyes or laughed out loud, but that was my attitude. In my early years in Cambodia, we lived next to a house full of Christian women training for ministry. When my husband was away, they worried about me. They didn’t seem to believe that I was genuinely unafraid, and I could not understand why they were afraid.

I didn’t know if I believed in ghosts or not. But what I did know was that because of Jesus, I had nothing to fear. I told them that the God of the Bible is stronger than any possible evil spirits, ghosts, or demons. He is the creator of all things, and Jesus has already conquered death. I felt satisfied that I’d given them the right reasons for why they didn’t need to fear.

I’m not the only Australian who gives off vibes of disbelief when Cambodians talk about the spirit world. My Cambodian husband Soeun also faced this attitude. When he was in Australia, he tried to explain some of his childhood to an Australian seminary student.

Read the rest over here: A Life Overseas - I Used to Laugh at Ghosts.

Christmas in Expatland

 Streams of uniformed children walked into school, trampling on the scattered grey snow. As I watched from my window, I couldn’t believe my eyes; it was all wrong and weird.

I knew well ahead of time that Christmas is not a public holiday in China, but I still felt surprised. School and cold weather should not be present on December 25th.

Christmas to me meant the end of the school year and the beginning of summer holidays. That was all I’d known, my entire Australian childhood. It was for family, church, and water fights.

“We live between worlds, sometimes comfortable in one, sometimes in the other, but only truly comfortable in the space between.” –Marilyn Gardner, Between Worlds

Read the rest over at A Life Overseas

 

Broken Blenders

 See the blade twist to a stop

See the smoke rise after the pop

And I’ve broken another blender

Blenders keep breaking; I can’t bear to get another one. Is it that I keep buying low-quality blenders? Or is it the power surges and dusty, tropical environment? I can’t remember how many blenders I’ve been through in my years living in SE Asia. I don’t have one at the moment; I can’t bring myself to buy another one. I know it’s going to break.

Friends keep leaving; I can’t bear to get to know new people. Every new friend is an embryo of a goodbye. The expat community has such a high turnover. As an Australian living in Asia, I’m in a community with people from many countries. We all live here together as foreigners. Some stay for a few months, some for a few years, and some for a few decades. At any given time, I know of someone who is gearing up to move back to their passport country.

I was finally getting to know them
Maybe enough to be a regular confidant
Then they announce they are leaving
And they give their stuff away 

I was finally getting to know them
Maybe enough to tell them where we keep the passports
Then they announce they are leaving
And they give their stuff away

I was finally getting to know them
Maybe our children will grow up together
Then they announce they are leaving
And they give their stuff away

We are a mosaic of everyone we’ve ever met, so they say. A mosaic is composed of pieces of different colours and shapes arranged together to form beauty. Well, I say the content of our house is a hodgepodge of many of the people we have farewelled. Our things are a jumbled, messy mixture of exited expats’ former items.

You can read the rest of this post over at A Life Overseas- Broken Blenders

Dear Re-entry

 

Dear Reverse Culture Shock,

I have not enjoyed spending time with you. You are a sneaky thief. Beyond that, your identity is ambiguous. You have made moving back to my passport country horrible.

I’m never sure whether I should call you Reverse Culture Shock or Re-entry. And if Re-entry, how do I spell it? People can’t agree if it’s Re-entry or Reentry.

Even though I have had many dealings with you, I still don’t know what to call you. That says something about your nature. You’re elusive, invisible. 

I wish you were more like your brother Culture Shock. Although also unpleasant, I appreciate that he is obnoxious. Like you, he steals, but in a more obvious way.

Or why can’t you be like your namesake Spacecraft Re-entry? He is loud. Everyone knows he is the most dangerous part of a space journey. Getting back into Earth’s atmosphere is a vulnerable time, and it can be disastrous if is not done carefully.

You are not obvious or loud; you hide away like an afterthought, silently stealing from me.

You stole my house, my job, my friends — lots of tangible things like that but also my skills and identity. You turned me into an incompetent invisible immigrant. On the outside, I look like a normal Australian, but I don’t know how to do anything. At least in Asia, my white skin announces that I will need help talking or eating.

You stole my ability to do things people expect me to be capable of doing. I look like everyone else, so drivers assume I will know how to cross the road. People in the supermarket expect me to be able to buy a box of breakfast cereal.

Read the rest over here: A Life Overseas

To my understanding friend

Dear A Life Overseas,

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