A long time love of Julie

I first discovered blogs while I was still in the US, living in San Francisco.  I was fresh out of college, slogging away in an office in The City, trying to figuring out my next move.  I was little more than a glorified receptionist masquerading as an office manager for a small agency. I always looked busy but I had a lot of downtime which I killed primarily on salon.com.

One day I found a link I hadn’t noticed before called RadioUserland (I remember thinking at the time, radio on the internet, really?) that turned out to be the early beginnings of the now glorified ‘blogoshpere’.

I didn’t get the whole thing right away.  A lot of them I found rather boring. Others were just confusing. I’d open a link and feel like I’d found myself in the middle of a conversation, eavesdropping, like when the wires actually did get crossed on the phone back in the days of yore. I don’t know how many weeks went by until I finally realized that the little calendar on the right hand column of most of them wasn’t there to tell me the date, but instead was an archive where I could dig out the back story.

The lightbulb slowly started to brighten.

Why can’t vacation last forever?

Been spending the last two weeks in the US, visiting the family, setting things on fire, and drinking and eating everything in San Francisco. Will be back next week, fat (regrettably), happy (definitely) and relaxed (hopefully).

Until then…

Waiting for you Like an Empty Page*

Here’s a common experience for American expats moving to German-speaking Europe. Also a topic specific in particular to women from my generation. (*Note – I retitled this after I couldn’t shake the feeling that “Small and White, Clean and Bright” had racists undertones and Nazi echoes… which it might have, given the topic of the film. Either way, it’s much more provocative now, don’t you think?)

I came across a Sound of Music discussion online that led me down a path here. What caught my attention was a youtube video of the Edelweiss song. If you can stand to hear about it, read on.

Ah the Edelweiss song.

Imagine for a moment: you grew up watching that movie (all chopped to hell on non-cable TV but whatever).

You drowned in the eyes of Captain von Trapp and then dutifully also developed a crush in the more appropriate young Rolf (who in real life also painted your parents’ house, hows that for Hollywood glamour?).

Many years later you grow up and fall for a tall blond German with a strong jaw and blue eyes.

You go to visit him for the first time and drive straight to Austria, through Salzburg, to the alps where the famous flower grows along the roadside.

And then, as you’re there getting to know one another, BAM! You learn, no one’s  seen or even heard of  the damn movie over there and the friggen song is a Rogers and Hammerstein concoction for the film.

You’re Going to Need More Time (Moving Abroad pt3)

(My) Expat Guide to a Happy Transition (beta v 1.2)

Part three of 10 ( + 2) bits of advice on how to survive the transition to life abroad without losing your will to live.

No, it isn’t just you. Everything easy just got complicated. All the rules have changed and no one thought to tell you. Now you, the accomplished adult who can do everything themselves, is doing everything, even the simplest little things, wrong. And worse than that…

3. Everything takes five times longer to accomplish.

It is humbling in the extreme to find that “normally straightforward” stuff like  going to the bank to open an account is now an all day practice, but keep in mind that this isn’t your home turf and this is unfamiliar territory. At home going to the bank is easy, but here you first have to find it, get there and then find the right line to stand in, be sure you have the right documents… this all adds up.

Space your tasks out over a few days to both ensure that you get what you need to done, and that you do it right and don’t kill yourself in the process. It won’t always take so long, but at the beginning you’ll need to pad extra hours onto even what are normally simple tasks.

Breathe. Be patient with yourself. It’s normal.

(And this is good practice for the big task of finding a J O B… more on that next.)

(From the Files) Caro’s Last Stand

When I look back on my life in Munich, this is one of those evenings-turned-weekends that I love to remember.

Each time she comes with us to our favorite restaurant, Carolin tries again. When she orders the Creole Chicken dumplings, Daniel refuses to take the order. He’s certain she’ll hate it, and that’s all the reason he feels he needs. She’s pretty sure he hates it and that’s why he won’t serve it. The problem with that theory is: he’ll give it to anyone else. This particular February evening was no different. She ordered the dumplings again and somehow found herself having the scallops. We’d meant to order one bottle of white wine but ended up with a magnum instead. Daniel was his usual persuasive self.

It was one of those great nights that the place is famous for, among the people who love it.

On any night in winter, if you don’t have a reservation and you aren’t a regular, you’re not likely to do more than stand at the bar and eat olives. This evening was freezing cold and snow was piled high on the streets outside. Inside was so packed that bar stools were recruited as impromptu tables for drink glasses and appetizers. The place has a feeling that’s closer to a private club, or party, than a restaurant. Daniel and David, the quieter, more organized one, enforced a cheerful order.  No matter how full it was, every guest was greeted like a friend or regular, which most of them either were or soon became. Sitting down finally, close to ten, we were content to have gotten a table at all.

Hot Topics: Red Cat Names and Burning Man

If you don’t post much, you have no business checking out your blog stats. I know this. I am guilty of this. And yet, I checked mine.

Hot topics on my blog of late? Burning Man gear and names for red cats. I should actually switch that because names for red cats comes first. Who would have known that names for red cats were so hard to come up with? I didn’t.

So to make things a little easier, here’s what I didn’t post when I got Fergus. Behold the alternative names for the red kitten:

Tony (as in the tiger, grrr)
Finnegan (but that was taken)
O’Malley (too many syllables)
Shaemus
Rory (but my friend of the same name might have been confused)
Guinness (more suited to a black cat, really)
Whiskey
Rusty*
Rufus*
Angus*
Paddy*

…And my second runner up: Winston (which Oliver hated and thus vetoed)

There was also a whole list that emerged from a drunken discussion between my sister-in-law and the proprietor of our favorite restaurant that ended in him surveying the entire clientele that night. The names were kind of what you would expect from people in that condition and not much help.

And so after much soul-searching, Fergus got his name.  I think it’s a great name for a cat and it has the added bonus of not being a contender for people names for our friends and family, something people in our generation often notice way too late. (“Can’t name her Emma, sweetie, Emma pees on my laundry.”)

And for you Burning Man people, my updated shopping list is here, with a bit more explanation here. T-minus 12 days people. Do you know where your gorilla tape is?

*Updated, thanks Christina!

Happy Birthday

Happy Birthday, originally uploaded by meganinmunich.

We came back Monday night after spending a long weekend in Austria with Oliver’s family. There were some other reasons for going that I’ll get into later, but one of them was my nephew’s third birthday.

Three years and almost two months ago, Paul came close to being born there in Kaernten. The whole family was gathered as always at this lake, when my sister-in-law started having early contractions and was rushed to the hospital. After some serious meds, an ambulance ride and weeks of enforced bed rest in a Munich clinic, my nephew was eventually born by emergency c-section, almost a full two months early.

After such a rough start, it’s quite something to look at the little terror now and remember how squirrel-like and tiny he was in his incubator. He’s come quite a long way.

But at three he hasn’t come so far that he can read, let alone in English, so when my father-in-law accidentally bought the wrong banner, we went ahead and put it up anyway.

Happy Birthday kid!

The Great Catotel Experiment

**Update – Fergus seems to have weathered that a lot better than expected. True, he’d hidden himself in a corner when we got there to collect him, but he was healthy and intact and even gave us a headbutt greeting when picked up. I’m feeling better about the upcoming two weeks he’ll be spending there, although I still wish the place had a webcam so I could check in.**

Tonight begins a big experiment. We’ve not been successful in finding a new super-cat-babysitter like we had in Munich to look after Fergus.

With our annual trip to the US, we’ve had to compromise our principals. We’ve opened our minds to boarding him.

We’d looked into services that come to the house, but since we still haven’t met our neighbors, the risk seemed too high that he’d be left alone, fed irregularly, or perhaps not at all.

So this weekend is the big test. Ahead of us is a three day weekend in Austria. Ahead of Fergus is a short stint at what I’m calling (and hoping will be like) Summer Camp.

We checked it out two weeks ago. The lady seemed nice and the cats content. I saw plenty of places he could hide and mope. To give him an edge, I stopped clipping his nails.

Hope he doesn’t get his fuzzy butt kicked.

You’re Going to be Dead Tired (Moving Abroad pt2)

(My) Expat Guide to a Happy Transition (beta v 1.2)

Part two of 10 ( + 2) bits of advice on how to survive the transition to expat (and attain true happiness*).

When I first moved over to be with Oliver, I was excited but often so very tired. Sleep would creep up on me and just demand attention. I would get tired and that was it, I had to go to bed. I was a bit embarrassed. Why was I feeling cashed out all the time?

Then Oliver happened to mention to me that when he would work as a volunteer preparing kids for their year abroad, one of the first things that he would tell them is:

2. You’re going to be dead tired. That’s ok!

At the beginning it is sensory overload to be in a foreign country. Everything is unfamiliar, forcing your eyes and mind to take in much more information than normal. And you’re looking at everything differently than when you’re on vacation. Unlike being a tourist, everything you see and experience in a new ‘home’ country is being processed and saved for future reference. This is exhausting. You will likely find yourself nodding off all over the place, at dinner, in class, everywhere.

It helps to know that it isn’t monster jetlag; it’s your brain asking for downtime. Go with it and allow yourself to relax more than usual. You need the sleep! Also, be sensitive to when you or your partner are done for the day and retreat to a familiar, ’safe zone’ like the hotel or apartment. When we were checking out China, with the intention of moving there, we reached this point at least once every day. Sitting down in a restaurant isn’t usually enough. The best thing is to retreat to familiar territory, regroup, rest and then go out again. If you push yourself too hard, you’re going to find the first few weeks to be a lot tougher than they need to be. Slow down, relax and take it a step at a time.

(*sarcasm implied here, although I’m not alone in wishing it was that easy.)

Next Up: It’s all gonna get harder before it gets easier again, and this applies to (what used to be) even the simplest of things.

How to move abroad (and survive)?

Life without a relocation package can be tough and if you’re moving abroad for personal reasons it can be quite hard to find your way.

The truth no one wants to hear is that there are no tricks, and tips are totally relative. Still, there are few bits of helpful advice I’ve managed to collect. Over the years I’ve sent versions of this list to several people seeking advice, but somehow I never got around to posting it until now.

Here we are: Coming in stages, are 10 ( + 2) bits of advice on how to survive the transition to expat (and attain true happiness).

(My) Expat Guide to a Happy Transition (beta v 1.2)

1. Learn the language, at least enough to follow conversation, talk to a cab driver and read a menu.

No one needs to be a multilingual genius, but learning at least some of the language will go a long way towards feeling independent and comfortable in a huge variety of situations. Never speaking for yourself and always having to smile and nod during dinner conversation gets old quickly. Get your voice back, learn some German and eventually you’ll even get the jokes being told on the first run.

I was never a very good language student (having tried and abandoned French, Spanish and even Gallic) but I found that being in the country makes learning the language possible even for people like me. If at all possible, take a month of intense courses before starting to work (or looking for work). Learning a language isn’t an easy task and it pays off to be able to concentrate on that sole task for the first few weeks. You’ll also find it helps you quickly get a handle on the culture and way of life in the town you settle in.

Do everything in digestible steps, but set some daily tasks for yourself that will ensure that you work with the language on a daily basis. Simple things like turning on a German channel and letting it play in the background while you’re at home and watching movies and TV shows with the subtitles turned on can help so much in getting comfortable with the sounds and rhythm of the language. Try reading in German, too. My first ‘job’ in Munich involved typing up media summaries of the top stories in the local paper. Forcing myself to translate and decipher the headlines helped me make huge inroads into my vocabulary.

(coming tomorrow: Being dead beat, doesn’t make you a deadbeat!)