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LIBBY’S LIFE #35 – A big piranha in a small pond

Leave a comment Posted by on January 19, 2012

Even a week after the ultrasound, I can hardly take it in. Twins? Me?

I phoned Mum to tell her about it, of course, and regretted it immediately. She means to be helpful and encouraging, but it never works out that way.

“You’ll probably have a Caesarian,” she said, sniffing. “Everyone does in America, from what I’ve read. But it runs in families, you know, twins. Auntie Doris, my grandmother’s cousin, she had twins. At least, I think she was a cousin.”

Or possibly not related at all. Grandma-Great was from a generation that called all older females Auntie.

“Was everything OK?” I asked. “We must be talking pre-National Health Service here.”

“Heavens, yes. Auntie Doris outlasted Grandma by ten years.”

“I meant the twins.”

“Oh, I see! Well, it was New Year’s Eve. The midwife had had a bit too much gin by the time she got to Doris’s house, and passed out on the floor at a critical moment. Uncle Harry was down the pub, as men did back then, so he was no help, and the twins didn’t survive into January. But since yours are due in May, I’m sure they’ll be fine.”

You see? This is my mother’s idea of making me feel better. I can never decide if she was always like that, or if forty years of marriage with dad has taken its toll.

“It’s OK, Mum. I don’t think nurses are allowed to turn up drunk to work nowadays, whether it’s a bank holiday or not. They get sacked, and sued, and stuff like that.”

“You say that, but only last week in the Daily Mail, I read about a Romanian nurse in London – ”

“If you’re going to start quoting Daily Mail hysteria at me, I’m going to put the phone down. I need to take Jack to nursery school anyway.”

“How’s he doing there? Does he like it? I don’t think it’s right, sending little ones off to school when they could be at home with their mummies.”

I rolled my eyes and started to tell her that of course he liked it there – then stopped. Last week he’d twice had a tantrum when I left him there. And yet before Christmas, he was going happily. Maybe it would take him a few days to get him back into the routine after the Christmas break.

“He’s fine,” I said, crushing the little niggle of doubt.

All the same, I thought, as I put the phone back in the charger, I would have a word with Patsy, his teacher.

* * *

I’ve tried to avoid Patsy as much as possible since Jack started at nursery. It’s partly because I still have nightmares about being roped in for Play-Doh sessions with Playgroup Mafia Mums, and partly because I sense she doesn’t like me. Or at least, she thinks I’m not worth spending time on.

How do I know this? Because I know the sort of girl that Patsy Traynor used to be at school.

She was the one with lank hair and unfashionable clothes, who used to tag along with the pretty, popular, calculating girls. She’d hang on their every word, laugh at every unfunny, airhead comment they made, massaging their already inflated egos and trying to be their best friend. In return, they would let her think she was a friend, but in reality they were keeping her on a string, waiting for the day when she might be useful in their social-political games. The sad thing was, everyone knew this except Patsy.

Now that she’s grown up, you’d think she might be wiser – but no. She has her favourites among the mothers – those who are disgustingly well-off, those who display potential PTA leadership qualities, those with interesting quirks to set them apart (but only in a good way; tattoos and body-piercings don’t count except negatively) – and as I have none of these traits, I’m an also-ran in Patsy’s eyes. Thankfully, Jack talks about “Miss Patsy” with enthusiasm, so I hope her disdain for mediocre parents doesn’t extend to their mediocre children.

When I arrived at the school, she stood in the classroom, chatting to another mum. I caught her eye, mouthed “Hello” and raised my eyebrows to indicate that I needed to ask her something, but my body language was lost on her. She had already turned back to the mum who, even by looking at the back of her perfectly highlighted head, I could tell was just the type with whom Patsy would have ingratiated herself thirty years ago.

I helped Jack take off his coat, but instead of wandering across the room to play in the toy bus as he had done before Christmas, he stayed close to me, staring warily around the classroom.

“Don’t you want to go and play with your friends?” I asked.

He clutched the hem of my jacket and shook his head.

I bent down to his level. “Why not?”

He glanced around again, put his mouth to my ear, and whispered, “Tom.”

“Tom?” I was bewildered. Tom was a little fair-haired boy with glasses and a lisp, incapable of anything more frightening than swatting at Jack with a Milky Bar. “What has Tom done to you?”

Jack shook his head and wouldn’t elaborate further.

What on earth am I doing, having two more children? I can’t comprehend the one I’ve already got.

I decided to be firm.

“Whatever Tom has done, I’m sure it can’t be that bad.” Could it? These boys were only three, after all. “And if you have any trouble with him, you tell Miss Patsy. That’s what she’s there for.”

Jack nodded uncertainly, then wandered off to the Transportation Play Area (translation = toy cars on a frayed rug) where, to my exasperation, he began to race Hot Wheels cars with the very child he’d complained about.

But since I was here, I’d have a quick word with Patsy and mention my concerns about Jack’s reluctance to go to school. She was still chatting, and as I lingered nearby waiting to speak, I realised the other mother had an English accent.

Patsy glanced at me and I heard her say, “This lady here is also British. I think I’ve seen your son playing with her little boy.”

The mother turned around, and I saw with a shock that it was Caroline, the pregnant tiger-mom discussing 4-carat diamond earrings at a coffee morning last July, whom I’d last seen at the Christmas party looking puffy and tired.

No puffiness now, though. She could have been an advertisement for Chanel’s Spring Maternity Collection.

“We’ve met,” she said to Patsy. “Two British mums, both expecting! When are you due, Libby?” She shot a look at my stomach. “Very soon, I do believe…next month, is it?”

You know, it’s fine for me and Oliver to make fun of the size of my bump. But it’s not at all fine for some superior tiger-mum to do it, especially when I distinctly remember telling her my due date at the Christmas party.

I smiled with as much sweetness as I could manage. “May.”

“You poor thing! So huge, and still four months to go! You should get your husband to send you to this marvelous spa in Vermont that I went to at Christmas. I went there with swollen ankles, had seaweed wraps every day, and came out ten days later like this.”

She pulled her trouser leg up a little way to reveal one defined, bony ankle above shoes that she and only Victoria Beckham would wear in late pregnancy.

“I’ve only got another three weeks, thank the lord. I think I’d kill myself if I had four months to go.” She laughed, then abruptly stopped as a small boy charged across the room and head-butted her three times in the thigh, making her wobble slightly on those ridiculous heels. “Dominic, sweetheart, remember what we talked about this morning, about making good choices? Do you think that was a good choice?”

“Yes!” the monster shouted, and raced off again.

“Oh dear.” Caroline sighed. “He’s so boisterous. But I believe in letting children be children, don’t you?’

Umm, no. Children are like weeds. Without due care, vigilance, and regular cutting back, they grow out of control. But you can’t say things like that any more, otherwise you’re not being “supportive”.

Pasty put her hand on Caroline’s arm. “Don’t worry about it. Or, you know, the other issue. The other mother was quite certainly exaggerating, and the school felt they had to make an example of him – quite wrong, in my opinion. Bullying isn’t a problem among three-year-olds. It’s always the parents, believe me – certain types of parents, anyhow. I’m glad you chose this school for him. He’s settled in very well.”

Interesting. Could I infer from this that Caroline, a new parent at this nursery school, had been forced to withdraw her child from another? She’d be all right here, I could tell. She was on Patsy’s list of VIP parents already. Amazing what a big rock in each earlobe would do.

“Libby, did you want to speak to me?” Patsy asked. “We can talk briefly now, or if it’s not urgent I’d be happy to see you after school one day next week.”

Caroline didn’t attempt to move away, and I didn’t feel like discussing Jack’s problems in front of her. “After school on Monday would be fine,” I said.

As I turned away, Caroline’s monster-child ran up behind her again, this time knocking her into Patsy’s arms.

“Dominic!”

It wasn’t quite a shout from Caroline, but it wasn’t far off. She went a little red, presumably embarrassed to be caught not allowing her child to be a child.

“Boys will be boys!” Patsy sang. “Well, time for school. Goodbye, ladies.”

As Caroline and I walked out to the car park, Caroline said, “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention anything about what Patsy and I were talking about. To the other Brits, I mean. Some of those women like nothing better than to bad-mouth Dom. Jealous, I suppose.”

Jealous of what? I wondered as I watched her drive away. Diamond earrings that could be cubic zirconia? Give me a break.

Then something else registered. Tom…Dominic…Dom. Dom? Is that what Jack had been trying to tell me, that someone called Dom was making his life hard?

I wasn’t on Patsy’s VIP list. With her shiny hair, sparkly earrings and posh accent, on the other hand, Caroline most definitely was.

Oh dear. Poor Jack.

To be continued next week

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Next: LIBBY’S LIFE #36: Filthy cash, dirty deeds

 Previous: LIBBY’S LIFE #34: Shadows on a screen

Click here to read Libby’s Life from the first episode

STAY TUNED for another post from TCK Lawrence Hunt.

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Image: Travel – Map of the World by Salvatore Vuono / FreeDigit

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Travel for excitement, not enlightenment

7 Comments Posted by on January 16, 2012


As I write this I am in a well-known brand of coffee shop. When I stop and think about it, it is all busy, a regular footpath of traffic. Office workers stream in and out for a shot of caffeine to get them through their Monday morning. In between customers the two baristas discuss the smaller one’s mother-in-law (she looks so young that I am surprised to discover that she’s already married); the two open top buttons on the shirt of the man at the table next to mine reveals an interesting chest tattoo of an eagle; a policeman walks in — he carries two guns. All this takes place over a minute or two to the unlikely soundtrack of Tony Bennett’s recording of “A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square,” which the well-known brand of coffee shop is piping into its store.

The reason that I mention all of this is that I need to actively stop and think to notice the interesting things around me, those moments of local color. As an expat if this had happened a year or two previously I would have been fascinated by this scene. I would have been alarmed, even repulsed by my close proximity to two firearms.  Now it has all become quotidian. I have lived in cities on three continents and it is remarkable how quickly the exotic turns into the mundane.

For most of us we sleepwalk through life, it is one of quiet monotony — and that isn’t necessarily a bad thing. For many of us we have a life of traffic jams, of unpleasant bosses, of evenings in the grocery store and weekends in the mall. You may be in a city of six million or a town of two hundred thousand, live alone or with your wife and 2.4 children but for many points it may feel as if one existence of mundane solitude.

Last week on this blog ML Awanohara posted her top 10 expat and travel posts on spiritual escapes, about the need many people feel to search for some “me” time. One of the articles that she linked to was “The Joy of Quiet” by Pico Iyer that was from the New York Times.

ML had previously mentioned this article to me and thought that I might enjoy it, or at least find something of interest to it. And, in fairness to her, I did.

Admittedly on reading the opening sentence, which drips with name-dropping, knowingness and smugness  —

About a year ago, I flew to Singapore to join the writer Malcolm Gladwell, the fashion designer Marco Ecko and the graphic designer Stefan Sagmesiter in addressing a group of advertising people on “Marketing to the Child of Tomorrow”…

— I was ready to throw the article across my living room. In fact, I almost did throw it across the room at full force until I remembered that this wasn’t the dead tree edition of the NYT that I was reading, but a digital subscription read via my iPad.

(As someone who has always taken to heart Dorothy Parker‘s adage that this is a book that “should be thrown with great force,” I’m still not entirely happy with reading in the digital age as throwing a kindle or an iPad with great force will only serve to void you of your warranty.)

So not wishing to break my iPad, I kept reading. Iyer is concerned that technology is bombarding us and with that comes an increasing need for us to seek quiet, to try and mediate, to seek some form of solace from the “noise” of the modern world.

There’s nothing particularly original, per se, about this idea nor does Iyer claim so. Perhaps the greatest work in American literature (though other opinions are available) is Thoreau’s Walden. There has always been a desire to escape. We can go way further back than Walden– Christ and the Buddha both headed out to the wilderness. When we couple this desire as Iyer does with the tech writer Nicholas Carr‘s hypothesis that the Internet is shortening our attention spans, altering the very way in which we think, there is a desire to be a modern Canute and try to stop the advancing waves of technology.

That brings us to this month’s theme which concerns itself with the search for solitude or for a transforming experience, which some may class as being spiritual. Often this, as seen with the likes of Elizabeth Gilbert, means taking a rather patronizing view of the country that you are visiting that I find entirely unpalatable.

To me it seems that Iyer is in the Gilbert new-agey BS camp. Returning to the “Joy of Quiet” he writes:

For more than 20 years, therefore, I’ve been going several times a year — often for no longer than three days — to a Benedictine hermitage, 40 minutes down the road, as it happens, from the Post Ranch Inn. I don’t attend services when I’m there, and I’ve never meditated, there or anywhere; I just take walks and read and lose myself in the stillness, recalling that it’s only by stepping briefly away from my wife and bosses and friends that I’ll have anything useful to bring to them. The last time I was in the hermitage, three months ago, I happened to pass, on the monastery road, a youngish-looking man with a 3-year-old around his shoulders. . . .

Now most of us can’t be as amazing as Pico Iyer — that’s just the burden we have to carry through our lives. We can’t just move to rural Japan and fetishize solitude. We will still spend our evenings in the grocery store, our weekends in the mall, they will still be those 2.4 children and those bloody traffic jams — as David Byrne sang,“same as it ever was.”

What I am going to do try and do in 2012 (and yes even though it’s mid-January I still feel it is early enough to mention resolutions in a post) is to take advantage of technology to find some solitude. I’m not going to posture by lighting an incense stick as if the path to personal enlightenment lies in sniffing in something called Egyptian Musk. What I am going to do is take advantage of the quiet moments that my everyday life provides by sitting and concentrating at a task and deriving satisfaction from that. It may be by learning programming, a foreign language, or taking advantage of the sheer, vast number of books that are now available for free on Google books. In this well-known brand of coffee shop while Tony Bennett plays to me and the tattooed man and the policeman and the baristas return to talking about the smaller one’s mother-in-law, I have on my iPad access to a library of books greater than the Bodleian — reason enough not to throw the iPad across the room when I’m annoyed by Iyer.

So, I’ll be making a greater effort to sit and read. Return to my first love. I do read a lot, but my attention span has suffered in the Internet age to what it was before. But when I listen to David Foster Wallace in the embedded video (2 minute 14 seconds in is the pertinent part in my opinion), I am inspired to make a greater effort. That will be my act of meditation. My escape from the mall and the grocery shopping.

Travel will not be an escape from the noise, from the barrage of imagery. It will remain a escape from the quotidian, a retreat from the banal. It will be where I go to barraged by sound, sight, people, history, culture — thank God for that.

Hmm… Readers, do you agree that travel writer Pico Iyer belongs in the Gilbert new-agey BS camp? And do you travel for excitement or escape from excitement? Where are you on the continuum?

STAY TUNED for Tuesday’s post, a Displaced Q on healthy food by new TDN writer Tony James Slater.

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Top 10 expat & travel posts on spiritual escapes

12 Comments Posted by on January 13, 2012

As the holidays draw to a close and a new calendar year commences, many of us find ourselves desperately in need of some “me” time — a chance to reassess our “to do” lists and decide which of our life goals deserves top priority.

Gah?? Did I just write that? Talk about understatements! If you’re like me, you are lucky if you can remember that you used to have personal goals at one point. (My only aims for the past few weeks have been writing x many cards, wrapping x many gifts, hosting/visiting x many relations…)

That could be why Kate Allison’s post on Monday — announcing that The Displaced Nation has dedicated this month to spiritual escapes — was a goad to such debate. Does the quest for spiritual enlightenment require geographical displacement, away from the demands of family and everyday life? And what about those who are already living far away from “home” — do they need to displace themselves even further, to the most obscure corners of the globe? (Wait, aren’t some of them already living there?!)

Having tracked this topic on social media for several weeks, I would like to share my top 10 findings as further food for meditation, so to speak… My hope is that these writers can help us disentangle our thoughts — which might otherwise come to resemble advanced yoga positions — on the best techniques for getting in touch with the innermost core of our beings.

As usual, and as befits our blog’s slightly irreverent tone, they’re from a mix of indie and conventional publications.

1) Meditation vacation
Author: Matthew Green (@MattGreenAfPak), a reporter covering Pakistan and Afghanistan and author of The Wizard of the Nile
Publication: Financial Times, Life & Arts (@FTlifeandarts)
Why it’s helpful: Spending so much time in war zones, Green desperately needed the kind of retreat where alcohol, email — and talking — are all banned. During his 10-day “Buddhist boot camp” at the Himachal Vipassana Centre in the Himalayas, he ended up weeping harder than he could remember, for a reason he couldn’t fathom — but he also had to bite his lip to stifle the kind of giggles he hadn’t felt since school!

2) The Joy of Quiet
Author: Pico Iyer, British essayist, novelist, travel writer, and Third Culture Kid (born in Britain to Indian parents, he grew up in California), who once said: “And if nowhere is quite home, we can be optimists everywhere.”
Publication: New York Times Week in Review (@nytopinion)
Why it’s helpful: Iyer suggests that there’s something in the zeitgeist to make us all in need of stillness at this particular moment — that the more ways we have to connect, the more desperate we become to unplug, and would pay almost anything for the privilege. (Hmmm… Perhaps I should end this post right here?) I also found it interesting that as a writer, he prefers to live in rural Japan,

“in part so I could more easily survive for long stretches entirely on foot, and every trip to the movies would be an event.”

(Presumably the other part, which he doesn’t mention, is that his wife is Japanese.) Almost needless to say, Iyer has never tweeted or gone on Facebook.

3) The Threshold
Author: Catherine Yiğit (@Yarzac), a writer who was born, bred and buttered in Ireland but who now lives as an expat (also mother and wife) in northwestern Turkey near the mythical city of Troy.
Publication: The Skaian Gates: Notes from an Online Wanderer (Yiğit’s personal blog)
Why it’s helpful: If you’re serious about bringing change to your life, sometimes it helps to take a “tough love” approach. Yiğit found the kick she needed for empowering herself after stumbling upon a program for women writers called “A Year with Myself.” The approach, she says, is gentler than that taken by the unmercifully profane Chuck Wendig (@ChuckWendig), he of the author-advice blog Terrible Minds. (Ironically, Yiğit cites a post by Wendig that I’d shortlisted for this top-ten list: 25 Things Writers Should Stop Doing Right F****** Now. But then I found Yiğit’s post — and could relate to her yearning for some blend of toughness and forgiveness to help her cross the threshold…)

4) A year in awe over the fabulously mundane
Author: Lauren Alissa Hunter (@SankofaMeLately ), world traveler, former expat in China, and blogger (SankofaMe Lately), currently in search of a publisher for her WIP.
Publication: She Writes (@shewritesdotcom), a virtual workplace for women who write from all 50 states and more than 30 countries.
Why it’s helpful: Wannabe novelists, before making any major changes to your life this year, take heed of this rather cautionary tale. A year ago, Hunter upped and quit her job and booked a one-way flight to China in hopes it would spark her creativity as a writer. But instead of finding serenity, she found “intense loneliness, terrifying introspection, emotional vulnerability.” Still, at least she discovered where “home” is — her native United States. What’s more, she currently finds the mundane simply fabulous.

5) The (hateful) ties that bind: Expats and cultural criticism
Author: Camden Luxford (@camdenluxford), an Australian traveler and freelance writer who is now an expat in Argentina. Note: Luxford has been one of TDN’s Random Nomads.
Publication: The Brink of Something Else (Luxford’s blog)
Why it’s helpful: In her inimitable style, Luxford raises the vexed issue of why some expats can’t resist slagging off the countries where they live. Though she didn’t design the post as a contemplation on the January blahs, it dovetails neatly with TDN’s current theme. Are some of us feeling low simply because we can’t stand the thought of starting a new calendar year in the same old same old country? Or because we’re no longer that thrilled about being a world traveler? Burn-out is a serious condition. If you think you might be a victim, I would suggest adding to the comments on Luxford’s post as a first step to recovery… (In this connection, it’s also worth taking a look at the post Struggling in Seville by Ayngelina on her Bacon is magic blog. Ayngelina was traveling solo through Latin America, ended up in Spain — and then decided she was done with being a nomad and would return to Canada. Her post attracted a whopping 168 comments!)

6) 10 of the world’s best yoga retreats 2012
Author: Susan Greenwood (@Pedalfeet) — Guardian writer, bike rider & blogger (Pedalfeet)
Publication: Guardian Travel (@GuardianTravel)
Why it’s helpful: One of the things that always puts me off considering a yoga retreat is the cost — for which you’ll need some controlled breathing even before you’ve learned the proper technique! Greenwood claims that the retreats on her list qualify not only as inspirational but also affordable. I’m not sure if that’s true, especially if you had to add the cost of airplane travel to the cost of the retreat (most of these places aren’t exactly offering bargain-basement prices). Still, the Yoga Barn in Bali seems surprisingly unpretentious and good value — eat-pray-love, anyone?
Worth noting: This Saturday’s Guardian Travel has a special issue on healthy holidays and “courses that will change your life.”

7) 5 magical places in China to disconnect from the world and recharge
Author: “travelingman” Troy on GotSaga (From California, he is now planning a trip to Peru.)
Publication: GotSaga (@GotSaga), an online community for sharing travel sagas, tips, and destinations.
Why it’s helpful: Having been to Mainland China several times, I wouldn’t put it first on my destination list for spiritual escapes, though it’s such a large country it’s bound to have a few spots that are conducive to contemplation — especially if you’re willing to venture to the back of Outer Mongolia. Though Troy doesn’t completely persuade me — some of his proposed retreats sound rather touristy — I do like the idea of glimpsing rural life amid the bamboo forests of Huzhou, which also boasts the distinction of having the world’s only museum devoted to bamboo. As I rather like things that are in bad taste, I might even be tempted to take home some kitsch bamboo products along with my white tea, for the memories. (Listen, if you can find peace of mind in today’s China, you can find it anywhere! No need for fancy yoga retreats…)

8) Happy New Year and the Clutter-free Home
Author: Jennifer L. Scott (@jenlyneva), author of Lessons from Madame Chic, a how-to book based on her experience of living in posh apartment in Paris for a semester while a student at the University of Southern California. (NOTE: The book was featured on our 2011 expat book list.)
Publication: The Daily Connoisseur (Scott’s popular lifestyle blog)
Why it’s helpful: I love the idea of someone deriving powerful life lessons from a study-abroad experience and then distilling them into a “Top 20” list for the benefit of wider humanity. (I’m also rather jealous — have always wanted to do something like that with my years in Japan…) And what better time to contemplate such life lessons than in January — beginning with the need to declutter. Because they understand the pleasure of only using the best things you own, the French apparently excel at getting rid of excess belongings (or not buying them in the first place). Les gens extraordinaires!

9) Quick and Dirty Japanese: It’s What’s for Dinner
Author: Larissa Reinhart Hoffman (@RisWrites), a former expat in various parts of Japan, with a WIP entitled “Portrait of a Dead Guy.”
Publication: The ExPat Returneth: A place to express what you miss about living abroad (a new blog just started up by Hoffman — she hopes to recruit other writers eventually).
Why it’s helpful: Have you included healthier eating in your New Year’s resolutions? Then you ought to be eating Japanese food, Hoffman states. She also gives short shrift to complaints that it’s too hard to tackle their cooking, insisting that if she can handle making Japanese food (she was a late bloomer to cooking), anyone can. While living in Japan as an expat with her (American) husband and their two girls, Hoffman developed a repertoire of what she likes to call “quick and dirty” recipes (the Japanese might be horrified by the latter adjective!). Her main message:

You don’t have to be Martha Stewart to make home-style Japanese food.

Thank God.

10) The Buzz in Mexico
Author: Melina Gerosa Bellows, editor-in-chief of National Geographic Kids and Huffington Post blogger
Publication: Jan/Feb 2012 issue of National Geographic Traveler (@NatGeoTraveler)
Why it’s helpful: Bellows spins the yarn of her recent trip to Tulum, Mexico. She was on a mission to follow the path of the stingless Melipona beecheii bee, which is now endangered — a cause of concern to all those who value traditional Mayan culture. As she explains:

At risk of dying along with the insect is a beekeeping tradition that for centuries has been sacred to the Maya for its spiritual benefits.

In the process, she slows down and learns to value the art of “just being” (pun intended?). Her story is a reminder of how peace of mind can hit you over the head when you least expect it — in Bellows’ case, while on a work assignment (albeit to a very agreeable part of the world, where even bees behave in a civilized manner).

* * *

Question: Can you suggest any other works that should have made the list?

STAY TUNED for Monday’s post, a contrarian perspective on spiritual escapes from TDN contributor Anthony Windram.

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LIBBY’S LIFE #34 – Shadows on a screen

3 Comments Posted by on January 12, 2012

After a Christmas far away from her family, Libby is wondering if she is ready to face the new year without her loved ones. The foods she has been forced to abandon, that is.

Happy New Year!

A bit late, I know. It takes me a few days to get into the ‘Happy’ part. Until then, it’s just another month of winter, minus whatever food or beverage I’ve resolved to give up.

This year was different because I’d given up every nice food or beverage already, hijacked as I am by this alien growing in my midriff. Brie, prawns, coffee, every type of alcohol – you name it, and I have sacrificed it at the altar of pregnancy, although I’m thrilled to report that my taste for tea has unexpectedly returned. But give up chocolate for New Year? I think not. Not with Pinot Noir off the menu for another five months or more. Pass the Cadbury’s – lots of it, and now.

So, here we are in 2012, the year of our second child’s birth. I will be so happy to be rid of this bump. Have heard that babies get bigger the more you have of them, but I always imagined the increments would be more gentle. This one already has the proportions of a fully grown Oompa-Loompa. Still, twenty-two weeks down, eighteen to go, assuming this baby gets out of bed on time, unlike its brother who would have been happy to stay there until his peers were taking A-levels.

In a couple of hours, though, I will be able to stop calling it “it” or “this baby” because it will have a gender and proper name. (More on the dilemma of name choices later. I’m convinced it’s a girl, who is therefore going to be called Megan. Oliver is only contemplating a boy called Sam.) Oliver and I – obviously I, but we’re taking joint ownership of this pregnancy seriously – are going for our first ultrasound scan. I was supposed to go a few weeks ago, but what with Thanksgiving and Christmas and falling off ladders while decorating fir trees, I didn’t quite get round to it.

Such is the cavalier attitude of a second-time mum. Dr. Gallagher’s receptionist was horrified to find I’d only seen a doctor twice in half a pregnancy. I don’t know why. The baby is still there, isn’t it? It’s not as if I’ve put it down somewhere and forgotten it. Although I did that once with Jack when he was a few weeks old in his car seat. I went to Sainsbury’s cafe with Mum, put Jack on the floor next to the table, drank coffee, got up to clear the trays away, and…left.

But the important thing is I came back. The lady wiping the tables down was all set to ring social services, or so she said. Mum tipped her ten quid, and she shut up, but I always went to Morrison’s cafe after that, just in case she wanted another ten quid.

Oops. Time to leave for our appointment.

* * *

Tapping at a computer keyboard with her left hand and staring intently at the monitor’s mass of swirling, indecipherable grey shapes, the technician runs the gelled transducer over my bulging middle. She’s warmed the gel, so the pressure is not an unpleasant sensation, although the baby doesn’t agree and I feel a gentle kick of protest from within. It’s still very gentle, not much more than a flutter really, but it’s there all right.

The technician mutters to herself and types in numbers as she measures and remeasures the distance between various blobs.

“They’re very thorough over here, aren’t they?” I say in a low voice to Oliver, who is also concentrating on the picture on the screen. “I swear Jack’s ultrasound didn’t take this long.”

Oliver looks at me, a little cleft appearing between his eyebrows. “You’re right. It didn’t.” He clears his throat and raises his voice. “Is everything – you know, all right?” he asks.

The technician stops tapping the keyboard and moving the transducer. She smiles at Oliver and then briefly at me. She doesn’t look me in the eye.

“It looks…fine. So far,” she says carefully.

I don’t like her tone. She’s hiding something.

A couple of seconds later, she snatches up a handful of tissue paper, scrubs some gel off my abdomen, and covers me up with a sheet, which after two seconds feels cold on my skin, gooey from the residual gel.

“I’ll be back in a few minutes. I just need to speak with the doctor.” She pauses. “You say you’ve only had two checkups with your doctor so far in this pregnancy?”

I nod, not trusting myself to speak because of the lump of fear swelling inside my throat.

As she shuts the door behind her, I turn to Oliver and whisper, “What does she mean, she needs to speak with the doctor? Does that mean there’s something wrong?” Thoughts of my unknown sister, who survived only four hours, rush around my brain.

I’m willing Oliver to say something reassuring in his usual bluff way – “Don’t be silly, Libs, of course there’s nothing wrong! She said so!” – but he doesn’t.

He looks at me, then at the screen with the frozen picture of what I assume is a part our baby’s anatomy – a leg? A heart? Healthy? Not? – and says, “I don’t know.”

Neither do I. So much for a mother’s instinct.

And here’s the thing.

Despite all my brave declarations that nothing would change my feelings toward this child if it turned out to have a disability like my sister did, I find myself praying and bargaining with a god I don’t believe in.

Please let my baby be OK. Please let my baby be OK. I’ll be nice to Sandra. I’ll stop shouting at Fergus. I’ll even be nicer to Melissa if you let –

The door to the exam room opens and the technician walks back in, her white shoes making squelchy noises on the grey tiled floor. Behind her, in a white coat, is a tall, athletic man who looks as if he should be playing basketball rather than messing around with medical Photoshop. “Dr Holden,” his white coat says above the breast pocket, in blue italic embroidery.

The two medics go into a huddle in front of the computer monitor, checking numbers and flicking between images. I can’t make out what they are saying, let alone understand it.

I gaze at Oliver, then squeeze my eyes shut as he reaches for my hand and we lace fingers, as if by doing so we can weave a magic spell that will make everything all right, the same as everything was two hours ago.

“Mrs Patrick?”

I open my eyes in surprise. The doctor’s voice is high and reedy for someone of his build, and in another situation I would have laughed.

He looks from me to Oliver, and I see he understands what we’ve been thinking.

“There’s nothing to worry about,” he says. “Really. Nothing is wrong.”

I close my eyes again, this time in relief, and feel two tears slide down either side of my face toward my ears.

“But all the same,” his voice goes on, “this news may take a little time to get used to.”

* * *

I collapse onto our sofa. “Tea,” I say in the weak quaver of someone demanding water in the Sahara.

Oliver, like the well brought up English husband he is, heads to the kitchen to turn on the kettle.

A perfunctory knock at the front door is followed by Maggie bursting into the house with Jack, who rushes at me for a hug.

Murmurs and a little cry of surprise from the kitchen as Oliver tells Maggie our news.

Maggie brings in my mug of tea and sits beside me on the sofa. With difficulty, I lift Jack off my lap and sit him on my other side.

“Darling,” says Maggie. “Oliver’s told me all about it. What a shock.”

I nod.

“But in a few days, it won’t be.”

I start to sob, because “shock” doesn’t begin to describe my feelings, and I try to double over – but my bump is in the way. No wonder.

“I could have coped with anything but this! Three thousand miles from my mother, and Oliver keeps going on business trips…and that bloody dog…”

“Shush,” says Maggie. “I’m here. You have me.”

I sniff.

“And on the bright side,” Maggie says softly, “your mother-in-law is not here.”

I sniff again, and this time it’s more like a snort of laughter.

“And it is a cause for celebration, of course,” she persists.

I fumble in my pocket for a tissue, wipe my eyes, and noisily blow my nose. “Yes.”

“A toast, then?” Maggie gestures at the wine rack.“Just one?”

I look longingly at the bottles of Pinot, but pick up my mug of tea instead.

“No. I feel as if I’ve cheated Fate once today. Wine might be pushing my luck.”

Besides, I’ve read about these American pregnant women who get labelled as child abusers just because they ordered half a Bud Lite in a bar.

Oliver comes in with mugs for Maggie and himself, and a sippy cup for Jack.

Maggie raises her mug. “A toast, then! To…do we have any names?”

I glance at Oliver and smirk. “Sam.”

He clicks his Batman mug against my Toy Story one. “And Megan.”

“Sam and Megan,” we chorus, and sip tea politely.

I sigh. Typhoo it might be, but Pinot it is not.

“Somebody pass me the Cadbury’s,” I say. “Lots of it, and now.”

.

Next: LIBBY’S LIFE #35: A big piranha in a small pond

Previous:LIBBY’S LIFE #33: Fairytale of New England

Click here to read Libby’s Life from the first episode

STAY TUNED for Friday’s post – a summary of tweets on this month’s theme!

If you enjoyed this post, we invite you to subscribe for email delivery of The Displaced Dispatch, a round up of the week’s posts from The Displaced Nation. Sign up for The Displaced Dispatch by clicking here!

Image: Travel – Map of the World by Salvatore Vuono / FreeDigit

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

2 Comments Posted by on January 10, 2012

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.

___________________________________________

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

——————————————————————————————————————

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.

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The displaced life and the quest for spiritual enlightenment — welcome to January

12 Comments Posted by on January 9, 2012

Back in 1996, when I handed in my notice at work and announced my intention to become a trailing spouse by moving with my husband to America, my boss first gave me a disappointed look, and then some advice.

“Make sure you do something for yourself while you’re there,” he said.

At the time, it was enough that I would no longer have to get up before the sun to take our toddler to childcare, or that checking my watch as a meeting ran into costly overtime with the childminder would soon be a thing of the past. Become a full time 1950s housewife instead of career mom? Yes, please.

As time went by, however, and my husband and I added to our collection of toddlers, I thought more about my boss’s advice and realized that what he had been talking about was not just the practical side of life but, in effect, the topic for this month’s theme: spiritual enlightenment.

In other words, finding another dimension to oneself — something that might not be easy if you’re a 1950s housewife attending to the needs of your family.

You don’t have to live on a kibbutz to be enlightened — a little

As it turned out, I was lucky. I have a sympathetic husband who has supported my writing addiction, which manifested itself shortly after the birth of our second child. I suspect this manifestation wouldn’t have happened in my former, British life. Being in a new country, among different people, gives you a different perspective on life, which in turn taps into another seam of your psyche – one that you perhaps didn’t know was there.

OK, so maybe my weekly epistle of “Libby’s Life” isn’t exactly enlightened. It’s never going to be up there with the homilies of Mother Teresa and the Dalai Lama. But I’m absolutely positive that Libby would not exist if my husband, daughter and I hadn’t displaced ourselves fifteen years ago – and by writing about her, and by writing posts for this site, I learn more about myself and others each week.

Even though I’m no Elizabeth Gilbert, who traveled to Italy, India, and Indonesia to discover herself, but coincidentally hails from the US state where I now live — I think it’s fair to call that a form of enlightenment.

Looking forward…

Still, this being January and a time when most people are making resolutions for a better life and lower number on the bathroom scales, we will try to inspire your good intentions.

During the next three weeks, you can look forward to interviews with more authors from our “Best of 2011” lists; lively debates on whether travel can lead to a healthier lifestyle; and discover which are the destinations and — naturally — footwear most likely to inspire a gap-year student.

First, though, STAY TUNED, for tough love and spiritual advice from our Tulsa Agony Aunt, Mary-Sue Wallace.

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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12 NOMADS OF CHRISTMAS: Kate Reuterswärd, American expat in Sweden (12/12)

3 Comments Posted by on January 6, 2012

Current home: Lund, Sweden
Past overseas locations: Italy (Perugia) and Austria (Vienna) — both for six months
Cyberspace coordinates: transatlantic sketches (personal blog), Expat Blog (guest blog for Swedish Institute, a division of the Swedish government) and @kwise321 (Twitter handle)
Recent posts: “You’re Celebrating on the Wrong Day! — and other things you didn’t know about Christmas in Sweden” (Expat Blog: December 27, 2011); “Work makes me happy” (transatlantic sketches: December 29, 2011); “What a year!” (Expat Blog: December 31, 2011)

Where are you spending the holidays this year?
Actually, it’s my first Christmas outside the United States! I’ll be in Lund with my husband and his parents, his sister and her family, and some family friends. I’m looking forward to it.

What do you most like doing during the holidays?
In the US, I always looked forward to baking Christmas cookies and getting gifts for my family and friends. Sometimes my gifts are homemade, sometimes bought at a store, but I love brainstorming the perfect thing for someone. Here, though, the season is full of Christmassy activities: attending glögg parties, decorating the house with lights and going to Christmas markets. It’s the active part of the holiday season that I like the most in Sweden.

Will you be on or offline?
Totally online and hopefully Skyping with my family and friends on a regular basis.

Are you sending any cards?
My husband and I just got married and it was a sort of spur-of-the-moment decision, so we’re sending a combination Christmas/“Oh hey, we’re married!” card. We’ll be writing thank you’s to the people who were there and a little update to people who weren’t.

What’s the thing you most look forward to eating?
Panettone. My family eats this traditional Italian holiday bread for Christmas breakfast with fruit salad, coffee, and mimosas every year. They sell it in Sweden, too, so I’ll be introducing the tradition here.

Have you read any good books this year other expats or “internationals” might enjoy?
I have really enjoyed these two essay collections (though I have to admit that I haven’t finished either of them yet):
1) The Art of Travel, by Alain de Botton (Pantheon, 2002): A thoughtful contemplation on different aspects of travel. As de Botton says, “Few things are as exciting as the idea of travelling somewhere else, but the reality of travel seldom matches our daydreams.”
2) A Supposedly Fun Thing I’ll Never Do Again: Essays and Arguments, by David Foster Wallace (Little, Brown, 1997): His essay on taking a week long cruise in the Caribbean was so true and so funny that I laughed out loud at several points.

If you could travel anywhere for the holidays, where would it be?
No travel dreams for Christmas unless it were to assemble my family and my husband’s all in the same place at the same time. But for New Year’s Eve, I’d love to return to the countryside in County Cork, Ireland, where I went two years ago with a group of eight friends, one of whom has a cabin there. We would all hole up that cabin again to eat, drink lots of champagne, and welcome in the New Year.

What famous person do you think it would be fun to spend New Year’s Eve with?
Despite having attended some exciting New Year’s Eve parties in the U.S. and Europe, I’m not sure I would want to spend New Year’s Eve with a famous person I didn’t feel close to. That said, Dorothy Parker would be hilarious to sit next to at an event like New Year’s Eve — as long as she didn’t turn against me. I would just want to be a fly on the wall.

What’s been your most displaced holiday experience?
Two days come to mind — both having to do with the Fourth of July, not Christmas. The first was in 2010. I had flown back to the States for my friend’s wedding, and then on July 4th I had to fly back to Vienna to go back to work. I spent the entire day in the no man’s land of the Charlotte, JFK, Dusseldorf, and Vienna airports. (I am an extreme budget flyer.) Actually, I’m not sure whether this counts — I didn’t really experience a displaced holiday; I just missed it altogether.

The other time was July 4, 2009. I was spending the summer in Sweden with my then boyfriend (now husband) — my first extended stay in which I started to really get to know his friends and family. We tried to throw a 4th of July party, but something was off. We grilled, we had flags, we had Jell-o shots for a little novelty Americana, but there wasn’t any patriotism and there weren’t any fireworks. For me it felt like a regular barbecue party trying too hard to be something else rather than an actual holiday.

How about the least displaced experience — when you’ve felt the true joy of the season?
Again, it wasn’t Christmas but Thanksgiving, in 2010. I cooked a traditional Thanksgiving feast with all of my mom’s recipes for almost 30 Swedes. We borrowed a friend’s parents’ apartment to fit everyone in, and it was the coziest, most wonderful celebration. My husband downloaded the Macy’s Day Parade for me as a surprise and streamed it while we were cooking and eating. Best of all, one of my Swedish friends asked me halfway through the meal, “Aren’t we supposed to say what we’re thankful for?” I hadn’t wanted to force them to do that, but everyone got really excited about it, and the whole group took turns saying what they were thankful for in what turned out to be really beautiful toasts to the people in their lives. It was amazing.

How do you feel when the holidays are over?
Rested but a little bit sad. So much energy goes into enjoying the holiday season, anticipating Christmas and New Year’s, gift-giving, baking, merry making — and then suddenly it’s all over! And you’ve got all of January and February to slog through until spring is on its way again.

On the first day of Christmas, my true love said to me:
TWELVE STRANGE TRADITIONS,
ELEVEN CAMERAS CLICKING,
TEN SPROUTS A-BRUSSELING,
NINE CELLPHONES DANCING,
EIGHT WHOOPHIS WHOOPING,
SEVEN SKIERS A-PARTYING,
SIX SPOUSES TRAILING,
FIVE GOOOOOOOFY EXPATS.
FOUR ENGLISH CHEESES,
THREE DECENT WHISKIES,
TWO CANDY BOXES,
& AN IRISHMAN IN A PALM TREE!

STAY TUNED for Monday’s post, setting a new theme for the month’s posts on the connection between the displaced life and spiritual awakenings.

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12 NOMADS OF CHRISTMAS: David Hagerman, American expat in Malaysia (11/12)

3 Comments Posted by on January 5, 2012

Current home: Penang, Malaysia
Past overseas locations: Vietnam (Ho Chi Minh City), Thailand (Bangkok), Malaysia once before (Kuala Lumpur), Hong Kong, China (Shanghai, Chengdu), Philippines (Los Baños)
Cyberspace coordinates: David Hagerman Photography (business site), SkyBlueSky (blog) and @DaveHagerman (Twitter handle)
Recent posts: “My Date with the Bachelorette” (December 17, 2011); “Day Dreaming” [includes a work-in-progress: “The Ferry Boats of Istanbul”] (November 29, 2011)

Where are you spending the holidays this year?
Chiang Mai, on assignment.

What will you do when you first arrive?
I’ll be scoping out shots as soon as I drop my bags.

What do you most like doing during the holidays?
Eating. My wife, Robyn Eckhardt, is a great cook and she always makes something a bit special, if not necessarily traditional, around Christmas and New Year. (She writes about food and food culture, and has a food blog, EatingAsia, for which I take the photos.) For example, she might make devil’s curry, or curry debal, which is part of the Eurasian Kristang cuisine of Singapore and Malaysia, and is often served during Christmas.

Will you be on or offline?
This year I will be working during the holidays. I’m shooting a hotel in Penang and a travel story in northern Thailand with edits in between. I’ll need to be online for most of that time to send images and file the story.

Are you sending any cards?
I’ll admit that I’m terrible about mailers, promotional and personal. Getting better about doing that is a New Year’s resolution.

Can you recommend any good films or books other expats or “internationals” might enjoy?
The BBC mini-series Michael Palin: Himalaya. Palin has a wonderful way of having fun with a place without making fun of a place. I like it when an actor or a writer can transport you to a place and have you meet the people while not making themselves the center of attention in the narrative.

If you could travel anywhere for the holidays, where would it be?
Turkey. I’ve been three times in the past 18 months and it’s become a bit of an obsession.

What famous person do you think it would be fun to spend the holidays with?
The Ventures‘ guitarist, Nokie Edwards. His version of “Frosty the Snowman” is a reason to listen to Christmas music, and if I could talk him into playing “Telstar” as the ball drops on New Year’s Eve then I’d be a pretty happy guy.

What’s been your most displaced holiday experience?
Christmas in Southeast Asia always feels wrong to me. Too much heat, too much sun, too much Christmas for the sake of nothing but shopping. Except for the Philippines. Filipinos know how to do Christmas better than any people I know.

How about the least displaced experience — when you’ve felt the true joy of the season?
In rural northern Italy, where I’ve spent three Christmases, the holiday felt just as it should: a time for eating and drinking and being together with family and friends. The consumerist frenzy was minimal, and everyone was in a great mood, showing kindness to each other and to me. Even on Christmas Eve, when everyone was out food shopping, there was no pushing, no rudeness, no impatience. I’d like to be in Italy again for the holidays.

How do you feel when the holidays are over?
Robyn and I don’t make a big deal of Christmas or New Year’s, so January 2nd feels pretty much like any other day.

On the first day of Christmas, my true love said to me:
ELEVEN CAMERAS CLICKING,
TEN SPROUTS A-BRUSSELING,
NINE CELLPHONES DANCING,
EIGHT WHOOPHIS WHOOPING,
SEVEN SKIERS A-PARTYING,
SIX SPOUSES TRAILING,
FIVE GOOOOOOOFY EXPATS.
FOUR ENGLISH CHEESES,
THREE DECENT WHISKIES,
TWO CANDY BOXES,
& AN IRISHMAN IN A PALM TREE!

STAY TUNED for tomorrow’s featured nomad, the last (12/12) in our 12 Nomads of Christmas series.

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12 NOMADS OF CHRISTMAS: Matthew Chozick, American expat in Japan (9/12)

3 Comments Posted by on January 3, 2012

Current home: Tokyo, Japan
Cyberspace coordinates: Matthew Chozick, Tokyo-based American writer and translator (writer site) and @mashu_desu (Twitter handle)
Recent article: “Thanksgiving: food, family, but hold the ‘chong chew’ turkey,” in the Japan Times (29 November 2011)

Where are you spending the holidays this year?
I’ll fly out of Tokyo to be in New England with family and loved ones. On the way back to Japan I’ll stop off in Israel to cheer on a Japanese contemporary dancer friend, as she’s doing a six-hour performance art piece. We will then take a quick trip to Jordan to see the ancient Nabataean capital Petra.

What will you do when you first arrive in New England?
I’ll check my email! I must do the final round of design checks on Tokyo Verb Studio, a contemporary art and literary anthology I’m editing with Keisuke Tsubono and Midori Ohmuro. The anthology, published by Awai Books, will be released early in the new year.

What do you most like doing during the holidays?
For the past several years I’ve spent New Years in Japan, where I like to eat my share of rice cakes (mochi) and sweetened black beans (kuromame). I also usually watch the first sunrise of the year at a Shinto shrine and help a friend or two wash off their ancestral gravestones (known as hakamairi).

Are you sending any cards?
In Japan it is customary to send New Year’s cards (nengajō), timed to arrive on the first of January. For traditionalist non-tech savvy acquaintances I’ll hand-write nengajō in Japanese with a calligraphy marker, but for younger friends I will send cellphone messages with the cutest animation I can find, likely containing kittens and balloons.

What’s the thing you most look forward to eating?
An ocean of hummus in Tel Aviv! I’ve never been to Israel, and though I’m not much of a foodie, I hear it’s a gastronomical paradise.

Can you recommend any good books other expats or “internationals” might enjoy?
I loved the novel I Am a Japanese Writer, by Dany Laferrière. While it’s about a Montreal-based Haitian writer who becomes big in Japan, the plot doesn’t matter as much as its digressions and keen observations. There are few authors with as much wit, humor, and enthusiasm for parsing the ball of contradictions we call the human condition.

This year I also really enjoyed Chuck Klosterman’s novel The Visible Man, as well as all the new issues of the magazine N+1, Simon Montefiore’s Jerusalem: The Biography, a book touching on the Fukushima nuclear disaster by Hideo Furukawa (only in Japanese), and M.A. Aldrich’s The Search for a Vanishing Beijing: A Guide to China’s Capital Through the Ages.

How do you feel when the holidays are over?
Bloated.

On the first day of Christmas, my true love said to me:
NINE CELLPHONES DANCING,
EIGHT WHOOPHIS WHOOPING,
SEVEN SKIERS A-PARTYING,
SIX SPOUSES TRAILING,
FIVE GOOOOOOOFY EXPATS.
FOUR ENGLISH CHEESES,
THREE DECENT WHISKIES,
TWO CANDY BOXES,
& AN IRISHMAN IN A PALM TREE!

STAY TUNED for tomorrow’s featured nomad (10/12) in our 12 Nomads of Christmas series.

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12 NOMADS OF CHRISTMAS: Karen van der Zee, Dutch/American expat in Moldova (8/12)

4 Comments Posted by on January 2, 2012

Current home: Chișinău, Moldova
Past overseas locations: Kenya, Ghana, Indonesia, Palestine, Ghana (again), Armenia, Moldova. (For years I was also an expat in the USA, my husband’s home country, and have dual — Dutch and American — citizenship.)
Cyberspace coordinates: Life in the Expat Lane — Foreign Fun in Exotic Places (blog) and @missfootloose (Twitter handle)
Recent posts: “Life Abroad: Of Red Undies, Sugary Pigs, and Freezing Waters” (December 31, 2011); “Expat Foodie: What to Do with Goose Fat?” (December 27, 2011); “Expat Life: Holiday Greetings from Afar” (December 26, 2011)

Where are you spending the holidays this year?
In Moldova. It will be the first time ever that my husband and I will not be spending it with the rest of our family.

What do you most like doing during the holidays?
Besides spending time with family, I enjoy decorating and cooking. This year I will cook dinner for expat friends who are also not going home. We can cry on each other’s shoulders, or perhaps just have a good time.

Will you be on or offline?
The computer will be on. We may be able to Skype.

Are you sending any cards?
I send only a few snailmail paper cards. Mostly I write short personal emails, using in part a few paragraphs of prepared text, but no newsletters. Newsletters never seem to quite fit for everybody the same way.

What’s the thing you most look forward to eating?
I wish I had something exotic to tell you about here, but actually, I just love having a good Christmas dinner and some decadent dessert. Normally I don’t eat much sugary food.

Can you recommend any good books other expats or “internationals” might enjoy?
Two works of nonfiction:

1) The Last Resort: A Memoir of Mischief and Mayhem on a Family Farm in Africa, by Douglas Rogers (Crown, 2009): A tragic-comic account of the author’s (white) parents’ life in Zimbabwe in the last 15 years and the trials and tribulations of running and holding on to their resort while all around them farms of white owners are being stolen and the country is falling apart. Great read.

2) Almost French: Love and a New Life in Paris, by Sarah Turnbull (Gotham, 2003): An Australian journalist falls in love with a Frenchman, moves to Paris, and culture shock ensues. I always enjoy culture shock stories, and Paris is a great setting for culture shock.

And one novel:

Finding Nouf, by Zoë Ferraris (Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, 2008): A murder mystery set in Jeddah, Saudi Arabia, with Saudi Arabian characters. I love this book because it offers an intimate look into the culture and lives of men and women in the very closed society of the Kingdom. Fascinating.

If you could travel anywhere for the holidays, where would it be?
I must be a terrible bore, but spending the holidays anonymously with strangers in some exotic place doesn’t appeal to me. However, I would love to live in the highlands of Bali!

What famous person do you think it would be fun to spend New Year’s Eve with?
What a fun question! Let me think. How about New Year’s Eve with Whoopi Goldberg? Why? Well, she’s unconventional, creative, fun, and loves to hang loose. What else do you need in a person to have some fun?

What’s been your most displaced holiday experience?
When we lived in Indonesia with our two young daughters. It was difficult to create a Christmas atmosphere in the sweltering tropics because we were used to a cold Christmas in the northern hemisphere. The year after that, while still living in Indonesia, we visited friends in Australia over the holidays. It was better, but still, it was summer there. It just wasn’t quite right!

How about the least displaced experience — when you’ve felt the true joy of the season?
I honestly cannot pick just one. I’ve had so many Christmasses and they’ve always been good one way or another.

How do you feel when the holidays are over?
Usually it’s a bit of a drag to take down the tree and pack up all the decorations and the house looks so bare and boring, but then I get busy and get on with life. I do not go into a major funk or depression, fortunately.

In the past, we would be returning from the US to wherever we were living, in the tropics or elsewhere, and that sort of took care of the transition to normal life.

On the first day of Christmas, my true love said to me:
EIGHT WHOOPHIS WHOOPING,
SEVEN SKIERS A-PARTYING,
SIX SPOUSES TRAILING,
FIVE GOOOOOOOFY EXPATS.
FOUR ENGLISH CHEESES,
THREE DECENT WHISKIES,
TWO CANDY BOXES,
& AN IRISHMAN IN A PALM TREE!

STAY TUNED for tomorrow’s featured nomad (9/12) in our 12 Nomads of Christmas series.

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