The 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.”
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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!
Today we welcome Laura Stephens to The Displaced Nation to comment on our themes from her third culture kid perspective. Although Laura’s parents are both British, she has spent most of her life in the USA. She is currently studying film production in Boston – most conveniently for us and this month’s Oscars theme.
At the beginning of a semester, it’s only a matter of time before a professor draws upon some of that “Teacher Training Camp” gold, and suggests we spend half a class playing name games. That way, the reasoning goes, we’ll be vaguely aware of the proper nomenclature of our lecture hall peers, with whom we will probably not speak for the rest of the course anyway.
Or worse, the self-proclaimed “hip” professor will pretend to be struck by a brilliant idea, and suggest, “How about we go around in a circle – say your name, and your major, and where you’re from?”
And I’m all, “How about we… don’t.”
Why? Because apart from it evoking irrational anxiety that sends my inner monologue into a manic babbling fit (“What’s my name, again? What was his name? I wasn’t paying attention because I was too busy preparing my answers to make sure I don’t screw up my own name.”) — I never know how to answer that last question:
“Where are you from?”
Where am I from?
I know my options here.
1. I can take the easy way out, and say I’m from Connecticut – lovely New England, just like most of the kids in the class. It’s not untrue, either. I’ve lived there most of my life.
2. I can inflict upon myself the task of revealing unnecessary further explanations about my background. To a bunch of people I only just met, courtesy of the name game? I don’t think so.
Which is why I never come right out and say I’m from England.
My brother and I differ on this. He kept his English accent, although he wasn’t even born there; he just copied it from our parents. He kept it to pick up chicks, and I mock him regularly for this. He seems to do all right with the ladies, though, so he puts up with it.
Me, I always found my English accent more of a hindrance than help; asking for a glass of “water” at a friend’s house was more trouble than it was worth. As a result, I tried to get rid of my accent as soon as I could – somewhere around fifth grade. This helped me get away with not mentioning where I was from, if I didn’t want the attention. I could always mention it later if I felt like it.
At some point after that I decided I wasn’t going to introduce myself as, “Laura, from England.”
I don’t have an English accent, so why should I?
If I introduced myself that way in the College Name Game, people would either pass over it (as they do everyone else’s responses) or perk up and ask some irrelevant question about London (the only place in England, according to Americans) or Harry Potter, or tea and crumpets.
How English is English?
When I mention I moved to the U.S. when I was three, people appear dejected or slightly peeved, as though they’d been ripped off.
“Oh,” they echo knowingly, as if to say, “So that doesn’t really count.”
This irritates me. I was born in England, lived there until I was three, and have visited relatives overseas every other summer since.
I get defensive:
“I drink tea, for crying out loud! I drink tea daily, and I drank tea before it was the cool thing to do. I like crumpets with butter and honey. I’ll take the Pepsi challenge between true Cadbury’s and the Made-by-Hershey’s imitation.”
I stop. “Do you watch The Office?” I ask them.
“Yeah.”
“No, no. The British one.”
And that’s when I realize: one of the major brag points I rely on, when proving to someone just how English I can be, is British film and television.
British television – a treasure lost in the Atlantic?
I’m a film major. Today in my History of Media Arts course, we learned about the introduction of cable television.
My professor lectured, “…and originally there were only three channels…”
(At which point my inner monologue interjected, “Cheese or snow?” – National Lampoon’s European Vacation reference, in case you missed that.)
I’m assuming we stayed within the realm of American television throughout class today, because by the end of the lecture, people had 52 TV channels, and CBeebies had not been mentioned once.
I think it is a shame that British television hasn’t become as popular in the United States as it is in its native country. I’ve introduced a lot of my friends to shows like Fawlty Towers, Blackadder, The Office, The Royle Family, One Foot in the Grave andOutnumbered. Top Gear seems to have gained a foothold with American audiences, but I’d like to see things like Extras and Episodes become more widely known and appreciated.
It’s not just because they’re British that I like them; I like them because they’re funny. I might enjoy them more than my American-born friends do, because of the references within the shows that probably contribute to my understanding, but generally my friends are appreciative of any British video clips I show them.
ABC meets BBC
My American boyfriend and I have a list of films that we intend to watch at some point, and we add to it regularly. We have a list of television series too – ditto. These lists are written on virtual Sticky Notes for Mac.
He, however, has a separate Sticky: “Weird British Shows.” It contains many of the shows I listed above.
From his reactions to the shows to which I’ve already introduced him, though, I know that Boyfriend is not really serious about the “Weird” in the title.
He’s a fan.
What is being English all about, anyway?
Being English is not about crumpet consumption – not entirely, anyway. There is a strong popular culture built around witticisms, subtlety, and sarcasm. I may have only lived in England for the three least memorable years of my life, but I have an intrinsic love for all those lovely British shows of which most Americans have never heard. I don’t care that this is all I have to defend my culture – I push like nobody’s business to get my American friends to watch these shows.
It’s good television, that’s all – even if it is a little weird or different.
Much of British programming is simply an acquired taste.
Which makes sense, right? It’s kind of like…tea.
.
STAY TUNED for Monday’s post – our own thoughts on the Academy Awards!
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Meagan — who is also known as MAL and the Lady Who Lunches (after her blog of that title) — may have just three questions, but I had quite a few more! I wanted to find out what inspired her to write her book, which she is now attempting to turn into a screenplay — the story behind the story…
Here’s what she had to say.
Meagan, I think it’s fair to say that you’ve been around a bit — I mean that in the nicest possible sense! Would you mind telling us a bit about your background — where you grew up, what you studied?
Do you mean I’ve been around as in I’ve lived for a long time, or do you mean I’ve traveled loads? (I won’t bother going to the other possibility!) Actually, I am getting up there in age — just six more months of my twenties; but there’s no need to rub it in, Tony! Just kidding. I think I’ll be relieved to be out of my twenties. What a crazy ride they were!
No, of course I wasn’t referring to your age — I’m an English gentleman, remember? I meant, you’ve lived in quite a few places — and that was before you moved abroad.
By the time I was 12 years old, I had lived in 12 different houses, and four different states. I pretty much grew up in a suburb of Baltimore called Towson. I say “pretty much” because I also lived in Tennessee and New Jersey for two years in between. But Towson is where I call home.
You have a passion for acting. When did you develop it?
Since I was eight years old, acting was all I wanted to do. For high school, I auditioned for a conservatory arts school called Baltimore School for the Arts (it boasts Jada Pinkett, Josh Charles and Tupac as students), where I was lucky enough to be trained by professional actors everyday.
Funnily enough, I wanted to be an actor, too. What drew you to the profession?
I had this fear that my life would pass too fast, and acting was somehow a way to slow down time, and be “in the moment.” Nowadays I find that writing is what does this for me. I am able to record thoughts and moments forever. Very existential, I know.
But you haven’t completely lost your passion for acting — I see you’ve instilled it in your main character, Adele (“Del”), in Three Questions. And I noticed there’s a mention of a horror film in your author’s bio — could you tell us a bit about that?
About the horror film? Oh no, you really don’t want to know about that (wink). But okay, my first starring role was in a horror movie called Sleepy Hollow High, about students who believe that the legend of Sleepy Hollow is real. It’s one of those films that is so cheesy and kitschy that it might be considered entertaining at some level. At the time, I was just excited to be in something, but it certainly wasn’t Oscar-worthy — ahem — at all.
And you also got into some major motion pictures?
My first speaking role in a big Hollywood movie was as a cocktail guest in Traffic, with Catherine Zeta Jones and Michael Douglas — now there’s an Oscar worthy film. Unfortunately, my lines got cut — but you can still see me shaking Michael Douglas’s hand. I got my Screen Actors Guild card from acting in small parts in Enemy of the State, a spy-thriller starring Will Smith, and The Replacements, a college football film starring Keanu Reeves. Numb3rs was my first TV show.
Wow — you gave all that up to become a writer?
I got disillusioned with acting after working in casting for four years. I saw how completely random and superficial some of the choices can be for who gets cast. I’d gotten into acting for a much more altruistic goal — I wanted to make a difference in how people see the world — but ultimately realized that the place where I could make a real difference, because I have control over my own success, was with writing. Without great content, after all, actors couldn’t do their job!
Well you’re having plenty of success with writing. In addition to the book (which we’ll come to, don’t worry!), you started up a popular expat blog, A Lady Who Lunches, while you were living in the UK. Now that you’ve repatriated, and are living in Chicago, are you still keeping it up?
When I got to Chicago, the blog went through a bit of an identity crisis. Even though I’d never lived in that city, writing about the adventures of a newbie Chicagoan didn’t really interest me. Especially since I was no longer lunching — I was working, hard. Though I still have the same URL and twitter handle (@theladylunches), I now call the blog by my own name, and I’m glad I’ve kept it up. It’s a built-in fan platform that has helped me to sell my novel.
You’re also something of a social media guru. Are there any secrets you can impart to other bloggers about building an audience?
I didn’t set out for the blog to become popular (and thank you for saying so). It was a lot of ground work, as well as trial and error. You can’t expect results from a blog unless you’re updating it frequently, creating a community with other similar, like-minded people, and engaging with them on a consistent basis. My biggest piece of advice to other bloggers is to take a course in SEO. I never really paid attention to SEO, and it wasn’t until I took a course that I realized the importance of knowing the basics. Simple things like: are people even searching for the topics that you’re writing? Are you wasting two hours of writing time on a topic that gets only 100 hits per month?
Now let’s turn to Three Questions, which follows the developing love between two young people — who have only met each other once, by chance, on a night out in Las Vegas. The love interest, Guy, is from England, as is your real-life boyfriend, Jock. So what I’d like to know is, just how much of the book is autobiographical?
This is a question that Jock and I dodge quite often! I would say that about sixty percent of the book is autobiographical. There are many similar personality characteristics between Guy (Del’s boyfriend) and Jock, and between Del and me, Even the outline of the story conforms quite closely to what happened to Jock and me. Jock and I did meet in Las Vegas before his trip to Africa, and we did write letters back and forth to get to know each other. Hey — they always say to write about what you know, so that’s what I did! However, “how” things happened — and obviously the ending — are all very different.
One of my favorite aspects of the book was the use of the three questions in each email between Del and Guy, which the couple used to get to know one another during their long separation. It’s genius! Where did the idea for that come from?
Thanks, Tony! It came from Jock, actually. He used to play a questions game with his mates in England when they were out at the pubs. They were quirky questions like “If you were an animal, what would you be?” When Jock went traveling through Africa and we had only met that one night, he decided to take a slightly different spin on it, and ask me three VERY different questions to get to know me. It was such a great way to get to know someone, and build up the intensity and connection. I highly recommend it for anyone who has a long-distance relationship.
Tell us about the screenplay for the novel.
At the end of last year, I raised some money through a Kickstarter campaign to take the novel to the next level, which hopefully will include turning it into a movie. I’m working on the screenplay now, and then I’ll pitch it to Hollywood. What they do with it after that is up to them.
To give you a taster, Meagan has just released this movie-style trailer for the book, which is awesome!
Right, here’s something your fans will be keen to know the answer to: are you writing another book, and can you share any juicy details with us? Is it about travel again?
I’m now working on a second novel, which — particularly as a citizen of The Displaced Nation — you’ll be interested to learn is about someone who is forcibly, not voluntarily, displaced. It’s about a Cuban teenager who was torn from her homeland and true love in the early 1960s — and the struggles, ghosts and eventual success she faces in the United States leading up to today.
Love is a recurring theme in your writing, and one we’ve been looking into recently at The Displaced Nation. So, post Valentines Day, do you have an advice for the singletons out there, wherever they are?
My only advice is to figure out who you are first, and what you want before worrying about finding someone. I really believe that the right man or woman will come when you finally decide that you’re the most important person in your life, and you are taking care of you.
And I have to ask this of someone who has written such a beautiful and memorable love story; tell me about True Love. Does it exist? Is there one person for each of us?
Wow — that’s the kind of question that years ago, I always used to ask everyone else. I never thought I’d be on the receiving end. (Maybe I am getting old?!) I come from a family where love comes multiple times in their lives, so for a long time I never believed that there could be only one person for me. What I’ve come to learn is that with a mixture of timing, chemistry and hard work, true love can certainly be created. How else do I explain running into Jock in a bar in Vegas on Easter Sunday, and thus creating a life out of it, despite our different backgrounds, cultures and nationalities?
Yes, how does a girl from Towson get together with a bloke from Portsmouth? Can I ask, how is Jock coping with the transition to life in Chicago?
Ah… besides the constant yelling at the way we drive, the lack of manners that Americans have when opening doors, and absolutely hating the egos and pompous attitudes of our politicians and media? I would say he’s adjusted much better than I did when I was in England! (I did a lot better in Paris!) Luckily, Chicago has a variety of cultures. He has actually started a business with another Englishman, and found another good friend who’s English. Plus, I think he secretly loves the attention that his accent brings him.
And will your love story have a traditional ending — any plans to tie the knot?
He has one more year before he has to get down on his hands and knees. I gave him five years not thinking he would take the entire five! But we’ve had a few cross-continental moves in the past four years, which has made it challenging to find the right moment.
In Three Questions, Del describes her perfect future as “living by the water in a big city, traveling as much as possible.” You’ve traveled and lived in France and England, and now you’re living in the Windy City, presumably somewhere near the lake… Have you found that perfect future yet? Or is your dream different from Del’s?
Perhaps when I first started writing the book, that was my dream. But success is very important to me as well. I want to leave this life with a feeling that I have left a significant mark on people’s lives. I don’t think I will feel satisfied until that happens, which means I may always be striving to better myself, to make a difference… On a more practical note, I can see myself back in SoCal or having a flat in Paris eventually. That’s not too much to ask for, is it??
Thanks very much, Meagan! It was great chatting with you.
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So, what do you all think? I loved Meagan’s book Three Questions and I’m not normally a fan of love stories and chick lit. I strongly recommend you all give it a read. Three Questions is available now on Amazon.com for the Kindle and, most excitingly of all, is now in paperback! Three Questions on Amazon Kindle Three Questions in Paperback
And luckily for you lot, Meagan has also agreed to participate in a giveaway, just for Displaced Nation readers!!!
She’s agreed to give a free ebook to the first 15 people who tweet: I want a free copy of @theladylunches’ new romance from afar novel, #ThreeQuestions via @displacednation
AND, she’s offered to give away a free copy of the paperback to the best comment in the comments section.
So what are you waiting for? Let’s chat 🙂
STAY TUNED for tomorrow’s episode from our long-running expat soap, Libby’s Life. You can look forward to a battle with tiger-mums, a three-hour glucose tolerance test, one suspected case of galloping dandruff, and the crowning glory of a Valentine’s Day party for three-year-olds. (What, not keeping up with Libby? Read the first three episodes of her expat adventures.)
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But I wanted to give you some slightly more alternative choices — because I try to avoid being ordinary whenever possible. Yes, okay, you can say it — because I’m downright weird. So in place of those otherwise awesome films, may I present to you the following movies which have inspired me personally:
Why I love this film: It’s ridiculous and lots of fun, which is pretty much how I think all life should be! As three Sydney drag queens travel through the barren Australian outback, we get to see that iconic terrain, vast and empty and aching to be explored. This film has it all: humor, a light-hearted way of handling a serious message (about homophobia) and visuals to die for as the trio procession through some of Australia’s most awe-inspiring scenery. In a big pink bus. Personal note: Not only did I travel to Australia and fall in love with a woman who considers this her favorite movie ever –- I also had the good fortune to be with her when she decided to re-enact one of the film’s famous scenes, when the drag queens hike around King’s Canyon in their fabulous dresses! I’d say we got mixed reactions from the other tourists — probably me, most of all… Memorable line:
Felicia: The only life I saw for the last million miles were the hypnotized bunnies. Most of them are now wedged in the tires.
Also ran: Actually, I was going to nominate The Lord of the Rings trilogy but then decided — NO! I can’t use it. It’s too easy. Plus we’ve already had one film with Hugo Weaving (the mighty Elrond played a drag queen in Priscilla!). I know, across the three films they showcase the sights of New Zealand at their jaw-dropping best — anyone who hasn’t watched these films and felt an urgent need to visit New Zealand needs to watch them again but ignore the kick-ass sword fighting… Yeah, I know. That’s never going to happen. Why Black Sheep won out: The rugged landscape looks every bit as impressive in this movie as it does in Lord of the Rings — but it’s also populated by were-sheep, an accidental result of some unusual genetic manipulation… See it, and laugh at the New Zealanders. Oddly enough, they’ll love you for it. It’s the Kiwis’ love of poking fun at everything, especially themselves — their self-deprecating humor — that really made me want to visit the place. I felt like I would fit in there. And I did — I stayed for two years. By the time I left, I was on a first-name basis with the entire population. Memorable lines:
There are 40 million sheep in New Zealand…and they’re pi**ed off!
Harry (as the were-sheep charge towards them): F**k, the sheep! Tucker: No mate, we haven’t time for that.
Why I love this film: It’s an odd one, this one. The first time I watched it, my mind boggled at how something so boring, with nothing remotely resembling a plot, could get made into a movie. Then I watched it again. And again. Because it was the rainy season in Thailand, where I was living, so I couldn’t go outside — and we only had three DVDs in English, so we watched all of them every day. For two months. Somewhere around the halfway point of this torturous process, I fell in love with Lost in Translation — maybe I just needed to relax to appreciate it? Once I stopped looking for something to happen, I started to understand what it was all about: loneliness, uncertainty, being adrift and confused in a completely alien culture. And ever since then I’ve desperately wanted to go to Tokyo. Well, not enough to actually go there — yet — but you know what I mean. I do travel vicariously — just sometimes — and this is one of ‘em. Caveat: If, like me, you’re a fan of films where, you know, stuff happens — it might take you a few viewings to get used to it. Forty or fifty should do the trick. Memorable line:
Charlotte: Let’s never come here again because it would never be as much fun.
Why I love this film: The closest I’ve come to China are the little “made in” labels on almost everything I own. This film, however, kindled a desire to visit China that I never knew I had in me. It’s the biographical story of the most famous kung fu practitioner in the world — not Bruce Lee but his teacher in Wing Chun kung fu, master Ip Man. It’s set in Foshan, China in the 1930s-40s during the Japanese Invasion, but was filmed in Shanghai. It follows the family of the master as he becomes ensnared in the war, losing everything over the course of the Occupation and being forced to face the hardest choices a man could make. The insight into a lifestyle and culture so utterly different from my own was fascinating enough, but this is a story both moving and powerful. Audience participation: I dare anyone to watch it and not leap off the couch at some point with a cry of “Yeah, kick his ASS!” Ahem. Okay, so maybe that’s just me. In sum: Will it make you want to visit China? I think so. Will it make you want to learn kung fu? I absolutely guarantee it!
And because I’m a contrary kind of guy, I just had to retaliate against my own optimism by highlighting a film that made me NOT want to travel:
Why I don’t recommend this film: The film is set in the 1970s, in the poorest districts surrounding Rio de Janeiro, where drugs and guns rule and the population live in a fear only matched by their misery. I saw it in South America, in its native Portuguese — but with Spanish subtitles. Given my fledgeling abilities in that language, as described in a previous post, I may have failed to grasp every nuance of the story, but basically what I took from it was: “DON’T EVER GO THERE! They will kill you for the hell of it.” Analysis:There is poverty everywhere in the world — I’ve worked in homeless shelters in the UK and seen people every bit as desperate as the denizens of Brazilian favelas (shanty towns). But these kind of places, where automatic weapons are more readily available than McDonald’s hamburgers and life is so very cheap…they absolutely terrify me. In sum: Brazil remains on my list of all-time favorite, must-visit countries — but no way am I going anywhere near the favelas in Rio. This film has put me off — for life.
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And finally…there’s one character that stands head and shoulders (and hat!) above all the rest when it comes to inspiring my travels. I’ve carefully avoided mentioning his films, as I was trying hard to keep this a cheese-free list — but I can’t hold it in any more.
I WANT TO BE INDIANA JONES!
I know, I know! So does everybody in the world, ever. Even people in remote tribes that have never been contacted by the Western world, secretly harbor a desire to be Indiana Jones — they just don’t know how to put it into words.
So — now it’s your turn!
1) What films have made you want to travel? And why?
2) What films have made you want to run screaming from the very idea of travel — and why?
3) If you WERE Indiana Jones — what would you do?
STAY TUNED for tomorrow’s post on cinema and the expat life.
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With Oscar season nearly upon us and with it the now seeminly customary Meryl Streep Oscar nomination, I’ve noticed that a number of American friends have asked me my thoughts on The Iron Lady. Specifically, my thoughts on how convincing I find Meryl Streep’s Thatcher.
Yet even when I tell them I haven’t seen the film (I’m just not in a rush to see it on the big screen and am more than happy to catch it on netflix in a few months time), they still ask for my opinion — nationality apparently bestowing expertise on the matter.
From the few clips I’ve seen on TV or the Web, and echoing what most critics have written, Streep’s Thatcher seems decent to me. Whether Streep’s Thatcher dislodges Greta Scacchi‘s somewhat cougar-ish take on the former PM in Jeffrey Archer: The Truth remains to be seen.
What is clear from the little I’ve seen is that Streep (unsurprisingly) will not be entering the Hall of Shame for awful Hollywood British accents. The following are my personal favorites. Let me know yours in the comments — including bad attempts at American accents (it’s only fair).
Almost certainly unfair to include as while it is hideously bad, I think it was intended to be hideously bad, and boy did Nicolas Cage succeed in that respect. Included, more than anything, because I think all top ten lists of this nature (something of a creatively bankrupt idea) could be improved with some Cage-branded craziness — it’s like a crack addict’s impersonation of Jimmy Stewart.
In the (rightly) forgotten hairdresser comedy Blow Dry, the (rightly) forgotten all-American heart throb Josh Hartnett tries hard but fails to convince with an Irish accent… Wait, he’s meant to be doing a Yorkshire accent? Really?
John Lithgow has done some great work in the past, a performer who can be effortlessly at home in comedy or drama. At other times, he seems happy to serve up the audience a big slice of honey roast ham. Cliffhanger was definitely one of his more porcine performances. Warning: clip is not suitable for work — though arguably none of them are.
Some people would have you believe this is one of the great dramatic scenes of cinematic history showcasing the titantic talent of Bette Davis. Others might counter that it’s am-dram caterwauling delivered in the world’s least convincing cockney accent. Both groups are right.
Actually, forget Bette, Hollywood’s worst cockney accent belongs to Don Cheadle. Here’s Don dubbed in German. Trust me, it’s the only humane way to listen Don Cheadle in Ocean’s 11.
Like the Nicolas Cage entry possibly an unfair inclusion as accuracy was hardly the point, but dude, Harrison Ford acted this in earshot of Sean Connery and so is deserving of either opprobrium or massive props.
Considering the difficulty Keanu Reeves often seems to have in portraying a functioning, coordinated human being, it was probably a bit too much of a stretch to ask him to do anything as nuanced as acting a different nationality.
You can’t have a list like this and not feature Dick Van Dyke, it’s expected of me and were I to omit it, many of you would invariably comment on it. And while it is a terrible accent, it’s also utterly charming and in no way spoils the movie. Bert probably fell on his head falling from a chimney, knocked his head, and developed foreign accent syndrome. I believe Henry Mayhew documented this as being very common among Victorian chimney sweeps.
Unquestioningly, Russell Crowe‘s accent in Robin Hood was a triumph. What sort of pr*** would argue otherwise? Definitely not me.
STAY TUNED for next Monday’s post, on travel and cinema.
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In 2003, when the shockwaves of 9/11 still echoed through the US and the country was fighting two wars in Muslim countries, Matt Krause met a beautiful Turkish woman on an airplane and decided to follow her to Turkey. This is the story of what happened there.
Matt figured adjusting to life in Turkey would entail some challenges, and he certainly wasn’t disappointed. He survived bomb attacks, lost his cool around beggar kids, drove a jewelry business into the ground, and got into fistfights over parking. Along the way though, he saw beauty in ruins older than the Roman Empire, was wowed by tales of Bulgarian freedom fighters, tried not to hit cows in the road, and drank plenty of peach-flavored Lipton iced tea.
…A Tight Wide-open Space is the story of falling in love not only with a woman, but with a city and a country. (Amazon.com)
Review:
Matt Krause met and wooed his Turkish wife-to-be in a way seldom seen outside Hollywood scripts. A chance meeting on a flight from San Francisco to Hong Kong; Matt’s sixth sense inkling that this woman was The One; his Google search for her name upon his return (“I sent her an email and tried not to sound too much like a stalker”); his impulsive decision, a few short months later, to rent out his Seattle home and follow her back to Turkey (“I thought about the situation for about 10 seconds and then I said ‘Well, I’ll come with you.'”) — yes, there’s a Valentine’s tale there, all right.
The book is a stimulating mix of the anecdotal and informational: first-hand accounts of the (excellent) Turkish health care and (not so excellent) law enforcement combine with Turkish History 101 and swift lessons on the Ottoman Empire. Running like a silver thread through these yarns is the deeply personal and affectionate — the reason for Matt’s presence in Turkey. The love story.
For all that this is a love story, however, Matt pulls no punches in the telling of it. The introduction chapter, a description of the slaughter of a ram for Kurban Bayram (Feast of the Sacrifice) is vivid — lurid, even. Yet it gets the point across as little else could: that a guy who has spent thirty-three years in the haven of America’s West Coast is now a long distance outside his comfort zone.
For me, the biggest charm of A Tight Wide-open Space is the author’s honesty. Matt doesn’t try to put himself in a better light just because a few thousand people are reading about his overreaction to a persistent little boy who wants to shine his shoes :
What on earth had possessed me to act like that? I had just blown up at a little kid on the street in broad daylight. I had just threatened to snuff the life out of a little boy barely tall enough to reach my belt. I hadn’t even been in Turkey for three months yet. What was I becoming?
In the face of this engaging frankness, it’s impossible not to get drawn into Matt’s story. His frankness extends to accounts of his wedding, a trip to hospital, an almighty row with his new wife. A book — appropriately enough, for Valentine’s Day — written from the heart.
As I have no plans for a subheading called “Spoiler Alerts”, I will say no more — except that the book’s twists and turns along the way only remind us that, yes, this is indeed real life.
Not Hollywood.
Words of wisdom:
One thing I learned early on about Turks is that you can never go wrong with a big smile and an enthusiastic introduction.
When we meet someone else, someone from another religion, or another country, or even another profession or another social class, it is our duty to that other person to remember that our understanding of that person is probably incorrect. And it is our duty to ourselves to overcome that incorrectness.
Home is not a place. Home is not Seattle, California, Texas, Ohio, or Kathmandu. Home is the people we love.
Verdict:
At around 190 pages, this is an easy read, but by no means a shallow one. Whatever Matt’s plans might be for the future, I hope they include more writing.
STAY TUNED for Wednesday’s Random Nomad post.
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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.
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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My mother used to disapprove of Valentine’s Day. Although she would indulge our need to cut out elaborate paper valentines and bake heart cookies, she always made sure my sisters and I knew what she thought — that it was a fabricated consumer holiday for boosting sales during the winter doldrums.
Despite her remonstrations, I always used to look forward to February 14 — even (especially!) when living outside the United States.
For a start, they have much better chocolate abroad. Plus you get to try new foods that other cultures find seductive — see Kate Allison’s scrumptious post of a couple of days ago.
And your idea of what constitutes romantic adventure changes, too, as you expand your visual repertoire to include the world’s most stunning settings. Indeed, why not pop the question as the sun sets over the City Palace and Lake Pichola in India’s Land of the Kings? (For this and nine other exotic locations for marriage proposals, see Annie Fitzsimmons’ recent article for Forbes.)
In that connection, I was distressed to learn that couples who are thinking of heading to Venice, that magical city of watery landscapes, for a Valentine’s escape may need tips from Guardian Travel on how to avoid feeling ripped off. From the sound of things, it may be safer, and perhaps a good deal more enjoyable, to stay at home and watch The Tourist…
But let’s leave the film discussion for later in the month, when we’ll be doing a series of posts in honor of the Oscars. Right now we’re honoring Valentine’s Day, and I’m urging you all to get into the Valentine’s spirit. To aid you in that aim, I’ve compiled a list of 10 online articles that address the specific needs of those who are looking for romance abroad. As usual, and as befits our blog’s slightly irreverent tone, they’re from a mix of indie and conventional publications.
In addition to the story told by TDN’s own Tony James Slater of his own love affair — which sparked off no end of wonderful romantic tales in the comments — I enjoyed these two posts:
1) Modern Love — A Place to Lay My Heart (8 January 2012) Author: Elisabeth Eaves (@ElisabethEaves) Publication:New York Times, Sunday Style section (@nytimes) Synopsis: Two single journalists in their 30s meet up in Mexico to write about tequila. At first, romance seems off the table. Both are commitment phobes: they see travel as their first love and like nothing better than plunging into a foreign culture. But then…something happens, and for the first time, instead of opting for a distance relationship, they take the leap. (Tequila will be served at the wedding.)
2) 10 Reasons Why You Should Marry a Foreigner (Like I Did) (Archived: 10 November 2010) Author: Corey Heller (@MultiLingLiving) Publication:Multilingual Living blog Synopsis: Chances are, if you spend a lot of time abroad, you may end up marrying, God forbid, a foreigner! Hey, it’s not the worst thing that can happen. Some of us have done it multiple times and lived to tell the story. Still others, such as this week’s Random Nomad, Toni Hargis, fell for a foreigner in their home countries and followed him/her abroad. Heller, who met her husband in Ireland (he trailed her back to the US), lists her own ten reasons for committing such a foolhardy act — everything from his “glorious accent” to her enjoyment of a challenge to the fact that he is her true love (now fancy that!). Actually, the one that sticks with me is #3: being a German (no, he’s not Irish), he craves good chocolate just as much as she does! (But perhaps that says more about me than it does about them?)
The practicalities of dating abroad
If you do decide to make someone you meet in another culture the object of your affections, there may still be some practical concerns. These four posts should help you finesse these sometimes awkward moments:
3) Dating expectations worldwide: Who pays? (4 February 2011) Author: C. Noah Pelletier (@flyingknuckle) Publication:Matador Network (@matadornetwork) Synopsis: From Pelletier’s unofficial survey of dating etiquette across nine cultures, we learn that German men excel at subtle flirting whereas Turks are much more direct; French don’t really “date”; Mexican men wear clean suits; and Japanese are into group dating. But on the all-important question of “who pays,” all nations are in agreement: THE MAN!!!
Who pays for the meal? Does one split the bill, or does he expect to pay — or even worse, must I pay?!
Too bad Noah Pelletier’s post for the Matador Network wasn’t yet available for Tanja’s perusal (see #3 above), or she needn’t have fretted — especially as it’s Mexico, where men have been known to TAKE OFFENSE if a woman offers to pay. Also, she might not have been surprised when she received more flowers on first dates in Mexico than in her entire life in Germany. Still, Tanja’s story (which ends very happily) is a tribute to the power of persistence and the efficacy of muddling one’s way through. Just one thing I’m still not clear on: do Mexican men expect you to open the door for them, rather like Japanese men expecting you to let them exit the elevator first? (See her post title.)
5) Ten Foreign Words for a Romantic Valentine’s Day (9 February 2012) Author: Justine Ickes (@justineickes) Publication:Culture Every Day blog Synopsis: So as not to be totally culturally clueless, it’s important to master a few other romantic terms/concepts. In Japan, for instance, if you hear someone say bakushan as they look you in the face, then they’re probably not a romantic prospect. The expression is used when you think someone looks cuter from behind! (If, on the other hand, you hear the word kawaii, things may be looking up!)
6) Sex when traveling: location, location, location (29 January 2012) Author: Laurence Norah (@lozula) Publication:Finding the universe blog Synopsis: Norah illustrates (literally — yet tastefully, I hasten to add) various options that travelers have for “getting jiggy on the road”: dorm rooms, tents, showers, beaches, backs of camper vans, and (best of all!) private rooms.
Lonely hearts in foreign lands
When all the world is going gaga for romantic love, it can be lonely if you’re not doing so well in that department, particularly if you’re already feeling isolated because of being so far away from your homeland. The following four posts should help with that predicament:
7) 8 Empowering Ways a Traveling Single Female Should Celebrate Valentines Day (Archived: 13 February 2011) Author: Lainie Liberti (@ilainie) Publication:Raising Miro blog Synopsis: From LA, Laine has been traveling with her son, Miro, since 2009 in search of a simpler life. When still in the States, spending Valentine’s Day on her own was no big deal:
it was easy to ignore the day all together or grab a group of my amazing single girl friends and have an AbFab marathon complete with bottomless cosmos.
But what about now that she’s on the road? Though the post is a year old, her suggestions — some aimed at those who enjoy solitude (movies, nature, dinner-in for one), and others, at those who would prefer being with people (volunteering, meet-ups) — won’t go out of style any time soon, and are good for any day of the year.
8) Help! Nobody Wants to Date Me! (Archived: 15 December 2011) Author: Chris Laub (@Travel_rtw) Publication:Backpacker Savings blog Synopsis: Chris claims he’s “undateable” because of his need to spend almost half of the year traveling. He’s not proud of that fact:
The truth is I want to be in relationship, but my deeper desire to travel and have fun makes it seemingly impossible.
Still, the travel addict’s life does have its compensations. He’s moving to Brazil for the 2014 World Cup, leaving him free to hook up with a Brazilian woman. As he sees it:
…running around chasing women in exotic countries and enjoying no-strings-attached travel romances isn’t a bad alternative
— though methinks he doth protest too much!
9) Offbeat Traveler: Unromantic places around the world (6 February 2012) Author: Jason La Publication:Los Angeles Times travel section (@latimestravel) Synopsis: Kissing a well-kissed stone in Ireland, encountering the venomous Komodo dragon in Indonesia, peering into the Gates of Hell in northern Turkmenistan — after such experiences, being wounded by Cupid’s arrow may seem like light relief. (In addition to his seven unromantic suggestions, La thoughtfully provides a link to the LA Times‘s post on 10 romantic cities, in case you get lucky at some point! Chris — see #8 above — may be in with a chance: Rio is on the list. Venice, however, doesn’t make it — not even as a “dishonorable mention.”)
10) Valentine’s Day — the perfect holiday for one (4 February 2012) Author: Amy Chavez (@JapanLite) Publication:The Japan Times (@japantimes) Synopsis: On Valentine’s Day in Japan, the custom is for men to get showered in chocolates by women — women have to hold out for “White Day” when men allegedly return to the favor. But as Chavez points out in her Japan Times column, Japanese women tend to buy just as much chocolate for themselves as they do for the guys, while also indulging themselves with a Hello Kitty trinket or two. I believe that Chavez intends the title of her column — “the perfect holiday for one” — to sound ironic as she finds the Japanese interpretation of Valentine’s Day a little twisted. Perhaps I lived in Japan too long, but I don’t agree. Or maybe it is twisted, but I can hardly blame the Japanese for that. (The other day I noticed that an Asian publication was carrying a story about how the Bronx Zoo encourages people to pay money to give their sweetheart’s name to one of its Madagascar hissing cockroaches, in time for Valentine’s day. After being bombarded with information like this, is it any wonder that Asian women would prefer to buy their own Valentine’s gifts?) What’s more, all women (and not just those who are single) stand to learn a lot from our Japanese sisters: 1) if you can’t rely on the men, then eat chocolate; and 2) never mind diamonds, Hello Kitty charms are a girl’s best friend!
Bonus feature: “Valentine’s Day and the displaced life”
Living abroad can have other benefits besides finding your perfect mate. It can also help you adopt a more expansive vision of life’s rich tapestry and where “love” fits in. To take but one example, the Sufi notion of love entails falling in love with ideal attributes rather than particular people — which, as Turkish writer Mustafa Akyol points out in his article “The Shariah of Love”, leads to a great deal less heartache than Western “romantic love.” (Hmmm…the idea that love shouldn’t hurt — how novel!)
Another potential benefit of the displaced life is the joy in discovering what it feels like to love an actual place, as was the case for British journalist Jane Alexander when she visited Jerusalem. Despite not being religious, she fell smack dab in love with the city and all it stands for:
Love. Total overwhelming Love. Unconditional love that sweeps away all prejudice, all difference, all wanting, all needing, all sense of I, of ego.
Sounds pretty cool, doesn’t it? And no need to worry if it’s unrequited…
What’s more, travel can also open your mind to rebooting Valentine’s Day itself. This year Causes.com is on a mission to rename it as Generosity Day, and I noticed just now that one of the causes we featured on this blog during Global Philanthropy Month, Free the Children, is asking for donations to empower Kenyan women in bee-keeping businesses. “Bee my Valentine!” sounds a great deal less corny when you know it’s for the sake of others on the globe whose lives are less fortunate…
Come to think of it, could my mother have been right about Valentine’s Day being overly commercial? Best to make that up to her on Mother’s Day — except she doesn’t believe in that either! 😦
* * *
Question: Can you suggest any other posts that should have made the list?
STAY TUNED for Monday’s post, when Tony James Slater, who is rapidly becoming our in-house expert on searching for love in foreign lands, takes up the timely topic of transcending language barriers with potential partners.
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It can be hard to make new friends abroad — let alone find a significant other. Thus it’s always inspiring to hear from nomads who’ve found that special someone hiding under a shamrock drinking green beer, or in other such fanciful locales. One such lucky fellow is Tony James Slater, the newest addition to the TDN team. Here is his story — can’t wait to hear yours!
There’s always a great story behind a travel romance, I find, often running the full gamut of emotions, from anguish to bliss. From experiencing a breathless holiday whirlwind romance to finding a soul mate in a distant land, nothing beats a tale of love — true and requited, tragically unrequited or trapped agonizingly somewhere in between.
And today I would very much like to hear yours!
Because our February theme is LOVE — and because it’s rapidly approaching That Day, when you should have bought something a bit special for your other half — I would like to invite EVERYONE to share their tale of passion and/or romance abroad!
Now, I can’t ask you folks to do something I wouldn’t do myself — so here’s an interesting tale of my own…
Once upon a time, in a faraway land…
I first met my wife in America. I know, right? Fascinating! But wait, I’m English — and the young lady in question, Krista, is from Australia, as evidenced by her nickname: Roo.
Roo had been working for Camp America, which supports summer work adventures in the United States. She was teaching kids how to ride horses at a summer school in Maine. And, as fate would have it, that was where she met…my sister!
My sis, whose name is Gillian, was doing Camp America at the same time, and was the only other staff member who wasn’t scared of horses!
Roo and Gill got to know each other quite well — so much so that the pair of them went traveling around the US after the job finished, which is where they met…Richie! An awesome, Kung-Fu kicking dude, muscle-bound and handsome, Roo fell for him immediately and the two became an item.
Which could have turned out rather differently for me, except this unexpected romance kept the couple in America for much longer than expected. You see, at the time some of this was happening, I was in Ecuador volunteering at an animal shelter. On my way home to the UK, I called in to the States to visit my sister, when I also met Roo and Richie. We traveled together for a couple of weeks and had a lot of fun.
Then Richie left, Roo left, and I followed my sister back to the UK, where, as explained in a previous post, I grew bored and dissatisfied with my hollow, consumer-led lifestyle.
(In other words, I was broke.)
Twists and turns worthy of Shakespearean comedy
So Gill remained close friends with Roo, inviting her over to England the following summer. She arrived just in time to be part of my farewell party — I’d finally scraped together enough cash to go to Thailand, where I planned to volunteer at an animal clinic and learn to dive. I would be gone for three months — exactly the same length of time that Roo would be in England.
Which was a pity, as she’s recently broken up with Richie and I rather liked her.
Gill and Roo explored every corner of my native country together, and Roo went back to Australia having elicited a promise from my sister that she would travel to Oz as soon as she could afford it.
I, meanwhile, had missed my flight home. It was accidentally on purpose — my subconscious clearly didn’t want me to leave Thailand just then. My regular conscious didn’t want me to leave either, being rather more aware of my income — or at least, the lack.
Volunteering for a living is notoriously unprofitable, and I couldn’t earn money from diving until I could afford to get qualified. A bit of a Catch 22!
But then — we came into some money. Both my sister and I profited from the sale of a house we’d helped renovate since getting back from America. I used the money to become a Divemaster (and for just a little bit of partying!), while Gillian, rather more sensibly, used hers to buy a ticket to Australia. She stopped off in Thailand on her way through, found me drunk in a bar and gave me such a talking to that I promised to come to Australia just to get her off my back. She was determined to save me from myself, which was probably for the best (I had very little intention of saving myself!).
I dallied for another three months while Gill met up with Roo in Oz and started to explore. They bought a beat-up old van between them and called it Rusty because, well, it was. Seriously — you could see daylight through bits of it.
To the ends of the earth — well, the Great Southern Land
That’s when I showed up. Penniless again, I arrived in Perth airport without the price of a cup of coffee to my name. I’d been living in Thailand for a year by this point, and all I owned was a bulging bag full of dive gear. It was winter in Australia and I didn’t even own a pair of shoes, or anything at all with sleeves.
Not in the least bit phased by me looking like a homeless person, Roo found me work with a local temp agency and within a few weeks I had enough money to travel.
The three of us piled into that crumbling van and set off for horizons unknown…and somewhere along the line, Roo and I fell in love.
Which thrilled my sister of course, as we were all sharing a tent. (But don’t worry — we got our own tent before long!)
Poor Gill left us, in disgust, in Sydney. She’d always hated being around couples in love — romance just wasn’t her thing. I still feel a little guilty for this…well, almost. But not quite!
Epi(c)logue
Since then, Roo and I have visited more than a dozen countries together. We married last July — in England because only Roo’s immediate family is in Oz. (She’s of Dutch descent, so all her rellies from Holland came over — including some she’s never met before! Her Aussie family — all four of them — flew over to the UK for the ceremony. ) And we now live in Perth — for a while in Roo’s family home but we now have a flat of our own. People always ask where we met — out of politeness more than interest, I feel — but it usually surprises them when we both say “America!”.
And as for Gill…well, she lingered in Sydney long after Roo and I left. Then she grew bored and flew to New Zealand, to a job in the ski fields, where she met a short blonde ski technician from Hampshire, UK, called Chris. They hit it off rather well as it happens — Gill had always liked short men — and four years later, the pair of them were married, a month before us and less than fifty miles away.
Roo got to be my sister’s Maid of Honor!
And because I’d been out of the country for so long that I’d lost touch with all my male friends, Gill — poor, suffering Gill — had to be my Best Man!
* * *
Your turn!
So. Let me hear it! Tales of love in far-flung and exotic locations: the triumphs, the failures and the ones that got away! We want to hear them all — post them in the comments section please, so everyone can read ’em and weep! (They don’t have to be as long and waffley as mine — I’ve been told I can be verbose.)
Oh, and keep it clean — some of these expat love stories lasted long enough to have children, and even grandchildren.
Love,
Tony xo
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, on 7 of the world’s most seductive foods — for seducing that valentine of yours.
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!
Image: Tony Slater and Krista (Roo) participating in the traditional European ceremony of handfasting where the couple’s hands are tied together (in their case, with a garland of flowers), at their medieval-themed wedding last summer.
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 atthedisplacednation@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
———————————- 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
———————————- 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
———————————- 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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About The Displaced Nation
The founders of The Displaced Nation share a passion for what we call the "displaced life" of global residency and travel—particularly when it leads to creative pursuits, be it writing, art, food, business or even humo(u)r.
The Displaced Nation 