The Displaced Nation

A home for international creatives

Category Archives: Just for Laughs

Dear Mary-Sue: Mad Mad Mad expat men & their fashion & beauty quirks

Mary-Sue Wallace, The Displaced Nation’s agony aunt, is back. Her thoughtful advice eases and soothes any cross-cultural quandary or travel-related confusion you may have. With this month’s theme being fashion and Mary-Sue being Tulsa’s answer to Donatella Versace, she’s keen to share her sartorial expertise with Displaced Nation readers. Submit your questions and comments here, or else by emailing her at thedisplacednation@gmail.com.

You Mary-Suers are an insatiable lot, aren’t you? One big helping of my advice wasn’t enough for y’all this month, so after popular demand following my earlier post on fashion, I’ve been asked back. So that’s two lots of Mary-Sue for you this month — or “double the trouble” as Jake (or Mr Mary-Sue Wallace, as my pastor calls him) likes to say. (My how we laugh at that little joke! Well, I do and the pastor does — Jake doesn’t.)

Anyhoo, if my latest mailbag is anything to go by, I’m finding some interesting (or should that be alarming?) insights into my readership. Seems a lot of my readership skews male and weird — story of my life!

Am I right, or am I right?!

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Dear Mary-Sue,

About a year ago, I moved to the United States from the UK and find I’m now in thrall to the Mad Men series, which has just now started up again on AMC.

My obsession has grown to the point where I’m thinking of getting a retro hair style similar to Don Draper’s. I’ve enclosed a photo of myself to get your opinion on whether that would look good or if it might be too natty?

Cheers,

Tim from Tunbridge Wells via Trenton

Dear Tim from Tunbridge Wells (incidentally my cousin Janine visited there last summer – MS),

Hmmm, I’ll be honest, I’m not convinced this Mad Men malarkey is going to last. Sure, it’s the flavor of the month at the moment, but will we still be talking about Don Draper and his style in thirty years’ time in the way we still talk about Magnum P.I.?

I think not!

My advice to you, Tim, is to grow a mustache like Tom Selleck’s. Having seen the photo you’ve enclosed, you’ll still look like a drunk manatee, but at least you’ll look like a drunk manatee with a Tom Selleck mustache. I can’t promise that it’ll make you look good or natty, but you will definitely be a talking point.

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Dear Mary-Sue,

I’m from Germany but am now living in London. At the suggestion of my new English girlfriend, I’ve been browsing this mantyhose site (http://e-mancipate.net/). TBH, I can’t decide among the white, the military green, or the ones with patterns (eg, checkerboard, stars, or stripes). Since I’m a newbie to this trend, I wonder if you could give me your thoughts? (I’ve enclosed photos of myself in the mantyhose.)

Hans from Hamburg via Holland Park

Dear Hans from Hamburg,

Thank you for the photograph you sent me. (I don’t know why everyone is so insistent on sending pictures of themselves to me this week. And not a looker among you. I mean I don’t expect all my male admirers to be Tom Selleck or Richard Chamberlain lookalikes, but when it gets to the point where I’d settle for you being an Al Roker lookalike — well, that’s one slim pickings I’ve got.) More importantly, thank you for including a return address on your envelope, the authorities say that will make it very easy to track you down.

I don’t know why you’d think I’d want to see that. You must have mistaken me for Dear Prudence over on Slate.

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Dear Mary-Sue,

I just moved from Oslo to Oshkosh. I have a suitcase full of trousers in different colors — salmon pink, sky blue, red rose, and kelly green. Back home, these are the latest trend, but looking around here in Wisconsin, I’m afraid I might stand out a little too far in the crowd. Do you think I can get away with wearing them and if so, which color(s)?

Nils from Norway

Dear Nils,

Quite why you’re so bothered with what people from Wisconsin think of your clothes is bizarre to me. Anything other than stretch denim is probably going to draw attention out there.

What I would suggest is that you go with yellow-colored pants. That’ll probably sate your Nordic desire for garish pants. What you can do is claim that they’re your cheese pants and that you’ve picked them out as they’re the same shade of yellow as a fine (though that’s a relative term in this context) Wisconsin cheddar. I’m sure you can convince them that it’s your weird pants-based way of paying tribute to the state’s cheese industry.

Best of luck!

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Anyhoo, that’s all from me readers. I’m so keen to hear about your cultural issues and all your juicy problems. Do drop me a line with any problems you have, or if you want to talk smack about Delilah Rene.

Mary-Sue is a retired travel agent who lives in Tulsa with her husband Jake. She is the best-selling author of Traveling Made Easy, Low-Fat Chicken Soup for the Traveler’s Soul, The Art of War: The Authorized Biography of Samantha Brown, and William Shatner’s TekWar: An Unofficial Guide. If you have any questions that you would like Mary-Sue to answer, you can contact her at thedisplacednation@gmail.com, or by adding to the comments below.

STAY TUNED for Tuesday’s post. Mary-Sue has heard it’s going to be great.

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Dear Mary-Sue: Fashion tips for the hapless traveler

Mary-Sue Wallace, The Displaced Nation’s agony aunt, is back. Her thoughtful advice eases and soothes any cross-cultural quandary or travel-related confusion you may have. Tulsa’s answer to Donatella Versace this month she shares her sartorial expertise. Submit your questions and comments here, or else by emailing her at thedisplacednation@gmail.com.

Happy March to all you Mary-Suers!! Spring is almost here and in the paradise on earth otherwise known Tulsa the sky is blue, the birds are singing and ABC have debuted GCB. Yes, life is sweet – I’ve even made it a little sweeter by making myself a nice pitcher of iced tea while I sit down on the patio and read through the Tulsa Herald to see if there are any interesting yard or estate sales in town this weekend. Anyhoo on with this month’s theme which is fashion – something little ol’ Mary-Sue knows a thing or two about.

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Dear Mary-Sue,

I’m a serial expat and just now moved to Canada from Mexico. Everyone tells met that sooner or later, I’ll have to invest in one of those ugly puffy coats that make everyone look like the Michelin Man, so as to survive the winters. Can you think of any alternative, or some way to jazz up the look?

Tatiana from Toronto

Dear Tatiana from Toronto,

The first thing you’ll discover is that the wind chill factor is a PAIN!!! Even though some days it’s going to seem clear and crisp, it is going to be FREEZING. When it’s like this, you’re going to have to weigh up which is more important to you – snugness or elegance, drabness or hypothermia.

I’ll let you in on a Mary-Sue Wallace tip, when I go on my annual Reykjavik the first thing that I pack is my alpaca hat. I got it from my cousin, Mary-Ann Banville, who lives in California and owns an alpaca farm out there. Well, she makes great hats and sweaters from the alpaca wool – she also grows great avocados as well. Anyhoo, I make sure I’ve got my alpaca hat with me – in fact, I make sure I have it whenever I go north of the 49th parallel. Hubby Jake says it makes me look like a smurf, but he’s no Brian Williams in the looks department and I’m sure you’d look darling in one.

The other thing that you need to do is earn the art of layering. Indulge in some nice autumnal colors, invest in an attractive overcoat and some lovely scarves.

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Dear Mary-Sue,

I’ve just now moved to Los Angeles from the UK, and I notice that everyone here has straight white teeth. Mine are the usual tea-stained crooked ones that English people have, so I’m feeling very self-conscious. Would you recommend that I get adult braces?

Lily from Lancaster

Dear Lily,

You’re in LA, first things first, get your cheeks, nose and boobies done first, then you can move onto the teeth.

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Dear Mary-Sue,

I’ve been in Taiwan teaching English for about a year, and I can’t get over how spoiled the dogs here are. Each of them has several little outfits. I know I should be tolerant of other cultures, but I can’t help but think it’s a ridiculous and wasteful custom. Wouldn’t you agree?

Sally from Seattle

Oh Sally,

I know you’re from Seattle and jaded by caffeine and hipsterdom, but get over yourself girl! Would it help if you viewed it all ironically?

My dachshund, Eudora Welty, has a cute little burberry coat. Yes, you’re probably rolling your eyes Sally, try to enjoy life a little more. This is why me and my girlfriends, Sondra and Tilly, are going to Krakow this summer. I’ll be sure to post a picture of Eudora in her Joan of Arc costume up on here.

___________________________________________

Anyhoo, that’s all from me readers. I’m so keen to hear about your cultural issues and all your juicy problems. Do drop me a line with any problems you have, or if you want to talk smack about Delilah Rene.

Mary-Sue is a retired travel agent who lives in Tulsa with her husband Jake. If you have any questions that you would like Mary-Sue to answer, you can contact her at thedisplacednation@gmail.com, or by adding to the comments below.

STAY TUNED for Monday’s post.

If you enjoyed this post, we invite you to register for The Displaced Dispatch, a round up of weekly posts from The Displaced Nation, with seasonal recipes, book giveaways and other extras. Register for The Displaced Dispatch by clicking here!

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THE DISPLACED Q: What fashion souvenirs find their way into your rucksack? (Or: Fashion for the Illiterati)

So one of this month’s themes is… Fashion!

I don’t know much about fashion – at all in fact! That’s one of the main reasons I emigrated to Australia, where there are exactly two options for guys; shorts and a vest top,  or a sleeveless t-shirt and ‘boardies’. (And yes, for those of you who don’t get the lingo – those are the same outfit.

However, I do travel with clothes – even if I don’t get to wear very many of them. I’ve got a few key ‘essentials’ that I never leave home without. Not because America’s Next Top Model instructed me to always have them with me in case of an emergency photo shoot (though this does factor heavily in my decision about what make-up to carry), but for one particular reason: they are my souvenirs.

Souvenirs should be useful…

Some people collect magnets. My sister had a thing for sew-on patches once; she bought one in every city and tourist attraction she visited. She filled two bed sheets with the things. The only problem, from my perspective, was this: I travel more or less constantly. While it would be great to tuck myself into bed each night with all the mementos of my travels, it just isn’t practical to carry something like that around. The same  goes for magnets – much as I wish my rucksack was a fridge (and ideally was well stocked with bottles of crisp English cider), it isn’t. I’ve never even owned a fridge. (That was my call for sympathy! What, no takers? Ah well.)

What I mean is, if you want to carry your souvenirs with you as you travel, they really have to earn their place in your rucksack. This is why I chose clothing as the ideal collectible! It’s useful – well, perhaps the grass skirts from Bali have fairly limited potential, but the rest is pretty handy; it’s light; and I’d have to have a bag full of clothes with me anyway. Might as well give them some significance.

…and tell a story

So whenever I go out I can usually tell a fistful of travel stories based solely on what I’m wearing. Jeans from Thailand – cost less than a loaf of bread in Australia, but as I’m a bit bigger than the average Thai, they’re tight in some… interesting places.

I have a technical t-shirt, one of those expensive trekking type ones – only this one is covered in sponsor’s logos. I was given it as a thank-you by the organisers of the very first ‘Rat Race’ – an adventure race in England, where teams of contestants run, canoe, bike, climb and problem solve their way around a major UK city each year. I didn’t compete in the Rat Race, because I have no friends. (Ahhhh…! No?) But I DID dress up in a giant fur rat suit – and roller-skates – and skated around Bristol city centre for a week, trying to draw attention to the race. Oh, and I did a bungee jump in the same outfit (but that was an accident and was entirely due to the cavernous size of my mouth). I LOVE that t-shirt – I wear to the gym at least once a week, and every time I put it on I remember that bungee jump. Even the memory of it loosens my bowels.

…and keep you toasty in Australian summers

I have a fleece jacket I ‘forgot’ to return after finishing my contract as a ski lift operator in New Zealand – while I was working there I wore four complete layers, and this was one of the middle ones. It is so warm that at any altitude less than a thousand meters I can only wear it for a few minutes, before I start to leak profusely from every part of my body. I have it with me now, but it doesn’t come out of the bag much – it’s 39 degrees centigrade here in Perth at the moment – that’s 102 F!

…and repel killer insects.

I also have a bright red Gore-Tex jacket which I got in England – no, wait! There’s a story, I promise! See, I bought one similar just before setting off on my first Grand Voyage Around The World™. You know – the one where I only got as far as France.  The jacket had been a birthday present, but I’d never needed it to repel water – just insects. One fine afternoon, hiking without direction or purpose, I sat on a strange wooden structure to take a rest.

Now, in hindsight, any strange wooden structure in the middle of a field is bound to be a beehive – but I was young and… stupid. Okay, stupider.

The bees swarmed to the attack and I fled across the field – to safety, I thought. One tenacious little devil wasn’t giving up though. He dived at me as I tried to climb the stone boundary wall. For the first time in my life I was faster than something – I lashed out with the Gore-tex jacket, catching the bee mid-air and dashing him against the wall. Two things died in that moment; my insect assailant, and my jacket. The zipper hit the stone wall squarely and disintegrated, leaving me with a 100% waterproof jacket that was impossible to fasten. Which meant that when the inevitable downpour came a day later, I got soaked in a wide stripe from neck to navel. I gave up and went home soon afterwards; not because of the jacket, but because I was terrified of being locked in a prune furnace and roasted alive by my boss, a plum farmer in Bordeaux (long story).

I put in an insurance claim for the jacket, saying it had been damaged in transit, then I returned it to the shop as defective. Between the store credit and the insurance pay-out I was able to buy a much better jacket – and I carry it with me to this day. In the last ten years I have never once tried to use it to kill anything – I’ve learnt my Karmic lesson!

What’s your traveling fashion story?

So, this is where I open the floor to you lovely people!
Have you got a favourite bit of clothing you travel with?
A special shirt you can’t leave home without?
Or a bit of gear with a story behind it…? Share, please, we’d love to hear about it!
You know the drill – do it in the comments  :0)

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Img: Traditional Australian dress, as modeled by Tony James Slater

6 beauty and fashion lessons for world travelers, by Cleopatra

It’s March, and fashion and beauty have arrived at The Displaced Nation. To help us introduce the new theme, may we present the Queen of the Nile, Isis Personified, Cleopatra VII Philopator, who has agreed to impart some travel-oriented beauty and fashion advice.

Greetings, my subjects — for I cannot help but think of you that way, having lived my entire life as Queen of the Nile.

Meantime, I understand that the descendents of those who were once my subjects are fighting for democracy. How times have changed.

Or have they?

As for me, I’m stretching the limits of my tolerance for democracy by addressing you in a tongue full of Latinate words — Latin of course being the language of many of your, and my own nation’s, conquerors.

Still, at least I conquered two of their warlords, Julius Caesar and Mark Antony, with my not inconsiderable charms. The former restored me to my throne, while the latter joined me in fighting off the Romans.

The details of my affair with Antony are well known thanks to the efforts of your foremost literary genius, William Shakespeare. (In more recent times, there was that film starring Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton — verbose, muddled, lumbering, lacking in style and, worst of all, not even entertaining! Still, I get some consolation from knowing that it nearly bankrupted the film studio that tried so hard to undermine my reputation.)

But enough about me. I am here today to focus on the needs of my supplicants. The powers-that-be at The Displaced Nation have informed me that you’re all world travelers, just as I was — having traveled twice to Rome during my reign. But, unlike me, you don’t take the matter of your appearance seriously enough.

Well, never fear, Mother Isis is here, friend of slaves, sinners, artisans and the downtrodden — which, as I can see from a quick glance around, is how some of you have chosen to present yourselves to the world. I will now impart six key lessons on beauty, clothing and comportment, which have stood the test of millennia…

1) Outward appearances count, especially when visiting other cultures.

Can it be true that some of you would venture into other countries unshaven, unkempt and unwashed? I can only assume that this is not by choice but rather the lack of a servant/travel companion to look after you. (For what would I have done without my Iras?)

To be welcomed with open arms, allow ample time for grooming. Your initial appearance will inspire wonder and awe rather than revulsion.

This lesson also applies, by the way, to you men out there: do you think I, a goddess personified, would have taken Mark Anthony into my bed had he arrived in Alexandria looking like a homeless person?

2) Become an ambassador for your home nation’s styles.

Though it has taken more than a millennium for their fashions to evolve, Italy is now a fashion leader. Well, how do you think that came about? When summoned to Rome in 46 BC, I dazzled everyone with the latest Egyptian designs, both clothing and accessories. Alexandria was at that time the fashion center of the world, and I saw myself as a conduit. (Even when the time came to take my own life, I made sure the asps on my breast were artfully arranged, in my belief that it’s important to die as one has lived — with style.)

3) Study the women of other nations for their beauty and fashion secrets.

Imagine the excitement of female travelers to Egypt upon discovering that with the help of a bit of pigment, they could enhance their eyes — for I knew about smokey eyes long before most, and had taken them to another level. As for me, though I benefited very little from studying Roman ladies — togas aren’t exactly seductive (Fulvia looked particularly dumpy in hers!) — the experience was useful in that it taught me a lesson in what not wear.

4) Beauty on its own is never enough; cultivate a little something extra.

My own “little something” was wit, charm, multiple languages and a musical voice. What’s yours — telling cross-cultural jokes, spinning travel yarns, holding forth on issues of the importance to our planet? Glamming up is fine, but hardly sufficient.

5) On that same note, never be afraid to project an aura of mystery.

Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale
Her infinite variety: other women cloy
The appetites they feed: but she makes hungry
Where most she satisfies; for vilest things
Become themselves in her: that the holy priests
Bless her when she is riggish.

— Antony and Cleopatra, by William Shakespeare (1606)

I’ve watched for two thousand years as artists and writers have tried to capture my allure — watched, and laughed, because they never quite grasped it. The latest to try is Pulitzer Prize-winning biographer Stacy Schiff. She had a good go, but even she, with her formidable intellect, didn’t fully get what you today might call my “attitude problem.” Why do we always have to tell others what we think? Why do we have to be consistent? In my — rather wide-ranging — experience, a little artifice never hurt anyone, and the plea for straightforward cross-cultural communications is vastly overdone.

6) Pearls are a girl’s best friend.

I once possessed the most valuable pearls in the world, worth a villa each — and ended up swallowing one of them in order to win a bet, after first dissolving it in a glass of vinegar. What a hoot that was! I’ve been told that one of your more famous sex goddesses had the same to say but about diamonds. That was a woman after Isis’s own heart: smarter than she looks! As a global nomad, you never know what kind of predicament you might be in, and jewels have the advantage of being edible as well as portable.

* * *

Thank you, Cleopatra. Readers, any questions or comments for the Egyptian queen before she turns back into a golden statue?

 

Ladies and gentlemen, may we present: THE EXPAT OSCARS! Um…hello? Anyone there?

TheExpatOscarsThe Expat Oscars — really? Now that would be an unusual event. What would it look like?

I live in Spain. Oscars are something that are on TV Sunday night. Basically, very late at night. You don’t watch, you just read the news after who won or who lost. — Javier Bardem

Well, for starters the Expat Oscars would be held via Skype. If we had our own version of the Kodak Theatre, it’d be big and posh and empty — ’cause folk from ’round here…ain’t from ’round here! We’re displaced — all over the bloomin’ planet. Which is kind of the point. If we had to collect our awards in person, that ceremony would have a carbon footprint the size of a football stadium.

So we’re streaming live on the Internet. The Red Carpet is a million pixels long and is digitally re-mastered in every country participating. Unfortunately, Jennifer Lopez wouldn’t be invited as she’s never been displaced, only her clothing! Indeed, you won’t want to make a slip-up — or down — as the clip would literally be on YouTube before you knew it.

But if there wouldn’t be any wardrobe malfunctions, we could at least look forward to getting that delicious hang-fire moment when the Skype picture freezes, and then it cuts back in, seconds later, like this:

“Ladies and Gentlemen, the winner is…” PIXELATE — jittery jump — lips purse with a hint of spittle and stay like that — and pause — and pause —

Cut back in to rapturous applause, the digital wheeling of spotlights and we’ve got to sit through another five minutes of high-volume celebrating before we finally make out the individual giving an acceptance speech. (That’s if it doesn’t cut out again before we get that far!)

Who would host?

Milla Jovovich, you did a great job hosting the sci-tech awards for the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences, so you’re being promoted — to hosting the entire Expat Oscars shebang! We’d love it if you’d wear that white-sequin, one-shoulder gown you wore for the main event last night — and leave the granny glasses you donned for the sci-techies at home (wherever “home” is!).

From Long Beach to Pacific Palisades? Sorry, Billy Crystal, but that’s not displaced enough. Jovovich is Ukrianian, has lived in Europe and the US, and acted in films in several languages. All of that counts for a lot in our book.

Should Milla request a co-host, it would have to be either Keanu Reeves (he was born in Beirut, a third culture kid!) — or why not go for the daddy of successful expat movie stars, the man who redefined the phrase “I came, I saw, I conquered”: Mr. Arnold Schwarzenegger himself!

No? Well, it’s either him or Borat. With his penchant for embodying other nationalities rather too literally, Sacha Baron Cohen belongs more with our tribe than with the Academy’s. At the Expat Oscars he will be free to attend in his dictator’s uniform without having to get special clearance and can “ash” anyone he likes in the name of terrorizing fashion — the mess will only be virtual.

We’re talking a looooong ceremony

Besides, his antics might keep people awake. The Expat Oscars will have to be a long, LONG show — either that or we’d insist that everyone stay awake all night, and it would be 4 a.m. for someone.

Listen, you think it’s bad at the real Academy Awards sitting on the edge of your auditorium seat for several of hours, sipping champagne while you wait for your category to be announced — what if it’s being announced by someone eight time-zones away?

Charlize Theron*: “Ladies and Gentlemen, here to accept this prestigious award, please welcome Mr. Sung, live by satellite from Hong Kong! Please excuse the penguin pyjamas. And the fact that he’s drunk eight vodka-Red-bulls just trying to keep himself awake…”
Mr. Sung: “Fangssshhhverymussssh…hic!”
*With her South African pedigree, Charlize more than qualifies for the role of Expat Oscar presenter.

Best Foreign Language Film — is that second or third?

Our next category is for Best Film in a Foreign Language…but wait a minute! That’s not a foreign language! That’s my language! Ah…

So could we have Best Film in a Second Language perhaps? But would that category also include people who’ve made a film in their third language — or should they get their own category? And so on.

How about “Film in a Language So Obscure Even the Director Has No Idea What’s Going On”?

No politics/fashion, please, we’re expats

What a thrill. You know you’ve entered new territory when you realize that your outfit cost more than your film. – Jessica Yu, Academy Award Winner 1997 for Documentary Short Subject*
*Breathing Lessons: The Life and Work of Mark O’Brian, about a person with a breathing disability.

The traditional Hollywood bash is often clouded by politics not to mention gossip and verdicts on the gowns of the nominated actresses.

It wouldn’t be like that for us. The Expat Awards would be about the films.

Because we just don’t get each other’s governmental strife — we haven’t got time for sorting it all out.

For instance, I’m sure there’s plenty of fascinating developments in the politics of Milla’s Ukraine (they’re a Presidential Representative Democratic Republic, don’t you know!) — but to be honest, I don’t think that would figure in anyone’s acceptance speech.

How could it? I don’t even know what a PRDR is — do you?

And the fashion would be a bit more varied than in Hollywood. We’d have people walking down the Virtual Red Carpet in burkas, galabiyas — or board shorts and “thongs” for the Aussie nominees! And there’s bound to be a few unwashed backpacker types trying to get away with khakis and a vest…and not shaving. Okay, so that’s me.

And my speech — probably on accepting the World’s Most Ridiculous Person Award?

Tony: “I’d like to thank my Mum…”
Milla: “Well actually, we have your Mum on the phone right now! She’s asking where you are, and why you haven’t called her in the last six months…”
Tony: “I’d like to thank the Academy…and ask them to keep her talking long enough for me to get to a taxi.”

* * *

What else would go wrong with a displaced film award ceremony? Would the statuette be a little gold Buddha? Or a waving cat? Or a mermaid from “Here be dragons”? What would the categories be? And who would win?

Please share your craziest thoughts in the comments!

You could win…hmm, let’s see: the respect of the international film community?

Nah. Not even the real Oscars have that… 🙂

STAY TUNED for tomorrow’s review of A Separation, which won the Oscar for Best Foreign Film, by expat author Matt Krause. Krause’s book, A Tight Wide-open Space: Finding love in a Muslim land, was featured on our site this month.

If you enjoyed this post, we invite you to register for The Displaced Dispatch, a round up of weekly posts from The Displaced Nation, with seasonal recipes, book giveaways and other extras. Register for The Displaced Dispatch by clicking here!

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THE DISPLACED Q: Does love conquer all — even language barriers?

Last week Tony James Slater, the newest addition to the TDN team, reported on his success with finding love abroad. But it wasn’t always that easy for him. He may be an incurable adventureholic, but when Cupid’s arrow led to a romance with a woman who didn’t speak English, even he had to wonder if there were limits…

Here’s the scenario:

You’re minding your own business in a friendly sort of bar, enjoying the heady mix of cultures as foreigners — a mix of holiday-makers, transients and expats — rub shoulders with the locals.

Suddenly you see him — or her — across the crowded room. This gorgeous individual is staring right at you, smiling seductively. You make contact with those smoldering eyes…and that’s where it ends.

Because she doesn’t speak your language, and you speak none of hers.

So really, what are you going to say to her?

Can romance transcend the language barrier?

It’s a tricky one.

No lo entiendo, mi amor

I have a little experience in this area; once upon a time, when I doing a three-month stint of volunteering at an animal shelter in Ecuador, I fell madly in lust with a gorgeous Latino woman.

Of course she didn’t speak English — there was no one who could for miles in any direction. I spoke no Spanish, because until that moment there had never seemed enough reasons to learn it.

I was captivated by her — she was the kind of exotic beauty you read about in well, the kind of books that I don’t read. Ahem.

So what do you do?

Two obvious tactics spring to mind.

The first is what I did: get horribly drunk and throw yourself at the poor woman, in the hope that you’ll never remember the embarrassment in the morning, if she laughs in your face.

As it happens, this tactic worked — but it should be noted that this is the first time ever, in the history of mankind, that this has been the case. As a rule, I cannot endorse extreme inebriation as a successful method of flirtation; truly, this must have been Cupid himself in action.

The second tactic is to get a friend who does speak both languages to make some kind of introduction. This can help you get over that incredibly awkward initial stage when neither of you is really sure if the other is genuinely interested.

This is the tactic I should have used, as I had a perfectly good friend with the requisite language skills. Of course by the time I’d thought of that, I was already too drunk to pronounce even English words. It was quite a way down the road when I finally got to communicate in words with my new lover, through an interpreter.

At that point, it was great to have it confirmed that she felt the same way about me as I felt about her!

It was slightly less great to discover that she was already married and had two children. But then, that’s the chance you take when you practice tactic no.1.

Thankfully, she was separated from her husband — although as our relationship progressed, I did hear some disturbing rumors that her husband was looking for me…with a machete. I fervently hoped that was just my boss trying to wind me up. (If it was, he succeeded!)

Pidgin Spanish and pantomime…are there limits?

Although she was beautiful, the thought of meeting her again terrified me anew each time. I felt like such an idiot, struggling to express myself in pidgin Spanish and pantomime. I lived in fear of those awkward moments, when neither of us could make the other understand some fundamental issue.

That said, it definitely motivated me to learn Spanish! After every date I’d come back fired up with the desire to study. I never did any studying, of course — my day job (mucking out animal cages) kept me way too busy for that — but the desire was there. The desire, in fact, had never been a problem!

But how far can a relationship really go, when you don’t even have a language in common? Think how close you can get to someone in a long-term relationship; a connection bordering on the psychic, where you’re almost reading each other’s minds — it just doesn’t work when you’re constantly guessing at what the other person is saying.

The Austrian-British language philosopher Ludwig Wittgenstein once remarked:

The limits of my language are the limits of my world.

If he is right, then isn’t the lack of a shared language the very essence of incompatibility?

Relationship experts the world over agree that couples must work hard to bridge communication gaps. Well, when the gaps of linguistic understanding are wide enough to fly a 747 through — and it can feel like a long-distance relationship even when you’re standing next to each other — bridge-building can be something of a challenge.

My Ecuadorian love and I were together three months, after which I left to fly back home. Ironically, we’d each learned just enough of each other’s languages to really get to know each other’s thoughts, hopes, fears and frustrations — the day before my flight to England.

I’d like to open it up to the floor at this point!

Has anyone got any experience of this that they wouldn’t mind sharing? Or an opinion, on whether or not it’s possible?

Can love really conquer all — including that ultimate bad guy of cross-cultural barriers, linguistics?

What do you think?

I’d love to know!

TONY JAMES SLATER is a self-confessed adventureholic. For the last six years he’s been traveling nonstop around the world, working at a variety of jobs including yacht deliverer in the Mediterranean, professional diver in Thailand and snow boarder in New Zealand. Last year, Slater published his first book, That Bear Ate My Pants!, an account of his misadventures while volunteering at the animal refuge in Ecuador. (The book was featured in The Displaced Nation’s list of 2011 expat books.) He is currently working on a second book set in Thailand, while exploring his new home in Perth, Australia.

STAY TUNED for Tuesday’s post, a review of Matt Krause’s memoir recounting how he met a woman on a plane — and followed her all the way to Turkey! NOTE: Subscribers to our weekly DISPLACED DISPATCH are eligible to win a free, autographed copy!

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7 foods to seduce your Valentine (or not) — wherever your home and heart may be

As a sequel to Seven deadly dishes — global grub to die for, today’s post turns its attention to foodstuffs that might promote…well, not death, but perhaps a smaller version: the one the French call La Petite Mort.

Food and romance go hand in hand — you only have to think of the restaurant scene in the film Tom Jones — so, in case you’re already planning a special meal with ulterior motives for next Tuesday, I’ve been looking for ingredients to go on your shopping list.

I have to say, after doing the internet research, I have serious doubts about the genuine aphrodisiac properties of most of these suggestions.

But see what you think.

1. Coco de Mer – Seychelles

The picture above is of a nut from the Coco de Mer tree, a palm found in the Seychelles, and for which the ancient botanical term is Lodoicea callipyge. (Callipyge comes from the Greek for “beautiful buttocks.”)

Used in Eastern medicine and as a flavor enhancer in Cantonese cuisine, the fruit is also the basis of a liqueur called Coco D’Amour which is sold in the Seychelles.

After their honeymoon in May, Prince William and Kate Middleton were presented with a Coco de Mer fruit by the Seychelles Minister for Foreign Affairs. (I would love to have been a fly on the wall at that presentation.)

Budget alternative: Since the Coco’s attraction lies in its suggestive shape, try peaches, nectarines, or butternut squash. Frankly, if you’re determined to see innuendo in the vegetable section of the supermarket, anything will do.

2. Oysters – Louisiana, Galway, Prince Edward Island…

Everyone knows that oysters are supposed to be aphrodisiacs. It’s all to do with the high content of zinc, phosphorous, and iodine.

Put like that, they don’t sound romantic at all.

Budget alternative: Fish fingers, table salt, Pepsi, and a couple of cherry Cold-EEZE zinc tablets for dessert.

3. Lobsters – Maine

Presumably considered aphrodisiacs for the same reason as oysters — zinc, phosphorous, iodine — but honestly, lobsters? It is impossible to eat them without looking like the explosion at the end of Jaws. Plus you’re at the table, swathed in a plastic bib while wielding a pair of large nutcrackers — not the best picture to get a new boyfriend in the mood.

Budget alternative: Poor Man’s Lobster. It’s cod, dripping in butter, so you’ll probably still need the bib — but at least you can ditch the nutcrackers.

4. Strawberries – California

They’re red, they’re heart-shaped, they’re the perfect edible valentine.

And, more to the point, you have to buy whipped cream to go with them.

Budget alternative: Just buy the whipped cream.

5. Truffles – Alba

With white truffles costing $2000 a pound, it’s not these overpriced mushrooms per se that’s the aphrodisiac. If your date is buying you these in a restaurant, the turn-on is the size of his wallet.

Budget alternative: Chocolate truffles. Who wants to eat fungus anyway?

6. Champagne – France

Supposedly an aphrodisiac because its bouquet replicates the smell of female pheromones. However, with the expensive stuff, the Truffle Theory of Attraction (see #5) can be applied.

Budget alternative: Since, according to WebMD, there isn’t any solid proof that human pheromones exist at all, save your money. Buy anything with a Sale sticker on it at the liquor store. Anything above 10% proof will work just fine, as long as you adjust the quantity accordingly, otherwise you might defeat the purpose by falling asleep. This is where #7 comes in.

7. Chocolate – the local grocery store

In its more pure forms – I’m talking 70% cacao or more — half a bar of chocolate is more potent than a gallon of espresso. It will keep you awake for hours. For good measure, one brand actually puts espresso beans in its 72% chocolate as well!

Now there’s a company that understands the delicate connection between chocolate, alcohol, and love.

Budget alternative: There is no budget alternative. Chocolate is known as a substitute for love, but as every woman knows, love is merely a substitute for chocolate.

STAY TUNED for Wednesday’s Random Nomad interview.

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Dear Mary-Sue: Finessing Valentine’s Day abroad

Mary-Sue Wallace, The Displaced Nation’s agony aunt, is back. Her thoughtful advice eases and soothes any cross-cultural quandary or travel-related confusion you may have. Submit your questions and comments here, or else by emailing her at thedisplacednation@gmail.com.

Aloha to all my readers — or as I affectionately think of you, my Mary-Suers! This month finds me in sunny Hawaii — the island of Kauai, to be precise. As president of the Thorn Birds Appreciation Society, I’ve had to come out for the society’s annual trip to see where the series was shot. Yes, yes, I know it was set in the lovely land Down Under, but all those scenes of Richard Chamberlain smoldering away under the Queensland sun were in fact shot here in Kauai.

To think I get to walk along pathways and beaches that Richard once walked along — it’s enough to make a gal go weak at the knees.

So, seeing as I’m at the most romantic place IN THE ENTIRE WORLD!!! — the spot where Rachel Ward snagged herself that dishy Mr C — and with Valentine’s Day fast approaching, little ol’ Mary-Sue is going to tackle your romantic quandaries.

Strap yourself in, things are about to get all Mary-Sue Wallace!

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Dear Mary-Sue,

I have a hot Brazilian girlfriend and am thinking of serenading her on Valentine’s Day. Any suggestions for a song?

Rick in Rio

Dear Rick in Rio,

I’m a trained therapist from no less an august institution as Tulsa Community College. I’m here to provide relationship advice. Maybe you could try that question on Delilah with better luck — or maybe not, I hear she can be one vicious b****.

Mary-Sue

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Dear Mary-Sue:

My American girlfriend gave me a Valentine’s card with a Cupid on it. I thought it was a comic book character but she said no. So who is Cupid, and what does he have to do with Valentine’s Day? Also, the Cupids in my comics have wings, but this one doesn’t have wings — why is that?

Kim in Seoul

Dear Kim in Seoul,

Who stole my heart?
You did, you did.
Bow to the target,
Blame Cupid, Cupid.

So sang Martin Fry in “Poison Arrow,” a song that btw Rick in Rio is not allowed to sing to his hot Brazilian girlfriend.

You see, Cupid is a naked baby that can fly. He has a bow and arrow that he shoots people with — in the case of this song, Martin Fry (I believe he’s the younger brother of Mr Stephen Fry). Cupid’s arrows don’t pierce the sternum and damage inner organs like, for example’s sake, Robin Hood’s arrow. No, when Cupid’s arrow pierces your heart, it doesn’t cause myocardial infarction but instead you fall in love with the first person you see — in Martin’s case with unfortunate consequences.

As to why the picture of Cupid in the card your girlfriend gave you doesn’t have wings, well that’s simple. That isn’t a picture of Cupid at all, but of a nondescript naked baby. She sounds like the sort who’d buy one of those Flower Baby Calenders — I’d get rid of her if I were you.

Mary-Sue

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Dear Mary-Sue:

How do I wish someone a Happy Valentine’s Day in French? I’m not sure if they celebrate it over here, but I’m hoping the Frenchwomen will find it charmant, coming from an American.

Peter in Paris

Dear Peter in Paris,

A quick look at my desktop calender reveals that it’s 2012, not 1945 — which means there’s nothing an American man can do to charm the young ladies of Paris. They just don’t appreciate your wholesome all-American charm. Shame, as I’m pretty certain you have a lovely smile. I can sense it from the letter you wrote that you have a lovely mid-Western smile.

Mary-Sue

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Dear Mary-Sue:

I’m a newcomer to the United States and someone just wished me a Happy Anti Valentines Day. What’s that supposed to mean?

Lars in Los Angeles

Dear Lars,

It’s a sign from the good Lord for you to (pardon my language) get the heck out of Los Angeles and move to Tulsa.

Mary-Sue

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Anyhoo, that’s all from me readers. I’m so keen to hear about your cultural issues and all your juicy problems. Do drop me a line with any problems you have, or if you want to share your fave meatloaf recipe with me (yum! yum!). As they say in Italy, “ciao!”

Mary-Sue is a retired travel agent who lives in Tulsa with her husband Jake. If you have any questions that you would like Mary-Sue to answer, you can contact her at thedisplacednation@gmail.com, or by adding to the comments below.

STAY TUNED for Monday’s post, a displaced Q about the best places to hook up with a honey abroad, by new Displaced Nation team member Tony James Slater (he’ll be writing from recent experience!).

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Dear Mary-Sue: A brimful of ashram and other travel-related spiritual quests

Mary-Sue Wallace, The Displaced Nation’s agony aunt, is back. Her thoughtful advice eases and soothes any cross-cultural quandary or travel-related confusion you may have. Submit your questions and comments here, or else by emailing her at thedisplacednation@gmail.com.

And here’s to a happy 2012 to all of my peeps out there! I hope you all had a wonderful Christmas — I know mine most certainly was. It’s always non-stop craziness in the ol’ Wallace homestead and Christmas 2011 was no exception — let me tell you! “Light of my life” (Ha! You should see me rolling my eyes as I type this) Jake went a little crazy with the Christmas lights this year. You’d have thought Rand Street, Tulsa, was in fact Vegas such was the amount of illumination we had going on. As I mentioned in my last column, New Year was spent unwinding and destressing in Iceland, but Christmas itself was all about Tulsa and the family. Of course, I was missing all my peeps. (I don’t like to think of you as mere readers, you’re all more than that, you’re buddies, you’re my peeps. Am I right? ‘course I am!) Well, anyway as I spent the yuletide period honey glazing my ham and making just the sweetest gingerbread men Rand Street ever did bite their teeth into, I was happiest knowing that 2012 would see me tackling all of your problems and sorting out your travel-related messes.

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Dear Mary-Sue,

I got a new Kindle for Xmas and downloaded a book I’ve always wanted to read, Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert.

I get the eating and the love parts, but am not so sure about praying — especially if it entails spending time at an ashram in India. Do you think that could be good for me?

Sharon, Cut and Shooot, Texas

Dear Sharon,

A Kindle!! How exciting! What a great present. At the risk of not being my usual super-modest self, you should check out some of my stuff on there. My new historical novel The Sigh of the Bosom is available to buy on there. It’s about a young orphan called Molly growing up in Colonial America. Don’t want to spoil too much of it for you, but little plain Molly gets quite the surprise when she discovers she isn’t in fact an orphan at all, but the true heir to the King of England. It’s gripping stuff, Sharon.

As for going to an ASH-ram, well as a committed non-smoker I am not sure that you should be doing that! Ha! Just a little bit of Mary-Sue Wallace humor there. More seriously, should you go to an ashram? Well, ol’ Mary-Sue Wallace mentioned this to her pastor, Rick. Rick, who might I add plays a mean guitar, is my go-to guy for all things spiritual — as well as for chilli (Rick makes a mean chilli). Anyhoo, Rick told me that spirituality isn’t about flying half-way across the world. Prayer isn’t dependent on location. While it might be nice to seek solitude, and who among us doesn’t crave that at times, what is important is the act of thinking, of contemplation.

I see you live in Texas. Why not go for a hike, take up watercolors, just do something that connects you to your local nature. If you just want to escape and have a change of scenery for a little while then sure, why not go all the way to India and visit an ashram. But if it’s about trying to reconnect with yourself, then I don’t think the answer lies in a plane ticket to India. Things just ain’t that easy.

Mary-Sue

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Dear Mary-Sue,

I’m headed to India next week to try connecting with my inner spirituality. What do you think I should wear? Or should I buy an outfit once I get there?

Roseanne, Spunky Puddle, Ohio

Dear Roseanne,

A little fashionista birdie tells me Daisy Duke-style denim shorts are THE thing to wear in India in 2012.

Blessings,

Mary-Sue

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Dear Mary-Sue,

I’m thinking about taking a gap year next year and, because I’m so fed up with the rampant consumerism of the West, I’d like to go somewhere that could put me in touch with life’s spiritual aspects. Can you recommend anywhere — apart from India, that is, as I’m afraid of getting sick on the food?

Chad, Cheddar, South Carolina

Dear Chad,

Be a trendsetter and think outside the box. You sound like the sort of young guy who shouldn’t be following in the footsteps of others, you should be forging your own path. You know what you don’t hear people say very often? “I’m going on a pilgrimage to Maine,” that’s what. You can start that trend. This site seems to be a great place to start: http://www.visitmaine.com

Mary-Sue

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Anyhoo, that’s all from me readers. I’m so keen to hear about your cultural issues and all your juicy problems. Do drop me a line with any problems you have, or if you want to share your fave meatloaf recipe with me (yum! yum!). As they say in Italy, “ciao!”

Mary-Sue is a retired travel agent who lives in Tulsa with her husband Jake. She has taken a credited course in therapy from Tulsa Community College and is the best-selling author of Traveling Made Easy, Low-Fat Chicken Soup for the Traveler’s Soul, The Art of War: The Authorized Biography of Samantha Brown, and William Shatner’s TekWar: An Unofficial Guide. If you have any questions that you would like Mary-Sue to answer, you can contact her at thedisplacednation@gmail.com, or by adding to the comments below.

STAY TUNED for Wednesday’s post — a firsthand account of how travel can lead to a simpler life.

If you enjoyed this post, we invite you to subscribe to The Displaced Dispatch, a weekly round up of posts from The Displaced Nation, plus some extras such as seasonal recipes and occasional book giveaways. Sign up for The Displaced Dispatch by clicking here!

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Dear Mary-Sue: Holiday travel plans & profound epiphanies

Mary-Sue Wallace, The Displaced Nation’s agony aunt is back. Her thoughtful advice eases and soothes any cross-cultural quandary or travel-related confusion you may have. Submit your questions and comments here, or else by emailing her at thedisplacednation@gmail.com.

Dear Mary-Sue,

Would love some great travel tips for this holiday season. 

Anon, Vermont.

Dear Anon,

I love this time of year. Admittedly for a traveler it can be a very expensive and chaotic time so I try and strike a balance between travel and being at home. The Wallace household, like many families across the fine, fertile land, has its own holiday traditions that we like to observe at this time. For me, it’s about spending some time with little John, the intelligent one of my two grandkids, he comes over to stay  the weekend before Christmas. We make sure to make chex mix and drink hot mulled cider. We head on over to St Michael’s where we go to the annual Handel’s Messiah sing-in. My soprano leaves a little to be desired, but it’s always great fun nonetheless. John will then help me decorate the Christmas tree and then we’ll go and see all the wonderful lights that my neighbors who haven’t foreclosed have covered their houses in.

On Christmas Eve it’s time for John to go back to his parents, that’s when me and hubby Jake things up and it becomes all about just the two of us. We pack all of our warmest, snuggliest clothing and get on a plane to Reykjavik. Once there we also stay at  our favorite hotel near the Hallgrimskirkja. Once we’ve slept off our jet lag and had a lovely cup of hot chocolate, we then give it large until New Year’s Eve. There’s one club, in particular, we hang out in called the Birch Tree. Now hubby Jake likes his trance to be fairly chilled, but I’m more about old skool Acid trance. When Gunnar is DJing at the Birch Tree he always manages to give a set that balances hubby Jake’s tastes with mine. We then might hit the sauna and do some shots of Brennivin with this South African couple we always meet up with at Christmas, because that’s what the season is about for ol’ Mary-Sue – celebrating your own traditions.

Mary-Sue

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Dear Mary-Sue,

Earlier this month, as I was trekking through the Kilimanjaro National Park, which is in Tanzania, with these local guys who I knew, I was struck by — and the readership of my blog The Wistful Traveler all agreed — a beautifully profound thought.  It was about how fortunate I was to be there at that moment, to be alive in the now. I blogged about it, you should check it out on my blog. There’s some pretty amazing pictures there too. Now my question to you Mary-Sue is this, do you have any profound thoughts like I do?

The Wistful Traveler, Everywhere and nowhere.

Only when drinking Brennivin.

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Dear Mary-Sue,

Thank you so much for responding to my question in last month’s “Ask Mary-Sue.” I was so pleased to be featured that I’m sending an early Christmas present of chocolate-covered macadamia nuts for you. Anyhoo, I was wondering if you might want to reconsider your response that you can’t meet up for coffee. I’ve tried calling your office, but they keep saying that you’re out. Such a shame as I really would love to pick your brains over coffee – not literally, ha, ha, ha. That would just be disturbing. You’re my inspiration.

Susie-May, Arizona

Dear Susie May,

Thanks for the present. My unpaid intern tells me that they were delicious. Unfortunately, my calendar is really full at the moment.

Mary-Sue

p.s. You really should stop calling my office.

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Anyhoo, that’s all from me readers. I’m so keen to hear about your cultural issues and all your juicy problems. Do drop me a line with any problems you have, or if you want to share your fave meatloaf recipe with me (yum! yum!). As they say in Italy, “ciao!”

Mary-Sue is a retired travel agent who lives in Tulsa with her husband Jake. She has taken a credited course in therapy from Tulsa Community College and is the best-selling author of Traveling Made Easy, Low-Fat Chicken Soup for the Traveler’s Soul, The Art of War: The Authorized Biography of Samantha Brown, and William Shatner’s TekWar: An Unofficial Guide. If you have any questions that you would like Mary-Sue to answer, you can contact her at thedisplacednation@gmail.com, or by adding to the comments below.

STAY TUNED for Wednesday’s post — another Random Nomad in our global philanthropy series.

If you enjoyed this post, we invite you to subscribe to The Displaced Dispatch, a weekly round up of posts from The Displaced Nation, plus some extras such as seasonal recipes and occasional book giveaways. Sign up for The Displaced Dispatch by clicking here!

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