5 Tips Part III. Going Home.

I've been dreading this post. I am world's worst Ex-expat. As evidenced by my awkwardness every time we go home. I'm not good with transitions. I've talked about it before and already made a list about this lesser-known culture shock. But really, I've never made the big move home. We go back to the States for a few weeks every summer. It's hard. I have no answers. I still don't know how to do it. Here's what kind of works for me.

1.  Pretend you're SCUBA diving.

You know how SCUBA divers have to surface very slowly and take decompression stops on the way back up? Do that. Take lots of decompression stops. Surface slowly. Or you'll get the bends. Otherwise known as a teary meltdown in the middle of Target when faced with too many options for cold medicine. Hypothetically speaking.

There are so many friends to see and family meals to have, but really, just pause. Breathe. Do something slow and normal and un-jarring to the system with your husband and/or children who are also on this back-and-forth adventure with you. Sitting and watching TV works. Take time off from social engagements. Plan to regroup often between shopping and hamburger dinners out. (Because this is mostly what we do in the States.)

The concept of stopping really hit us during our last visit home at one of those overstimulating/catch-up with everyone/family and friends picnics. A relative who also happens to be a European expat living in the United States said, "Listen, we'd love to have you guys over to catch-up, but we're not going to. Relax with your children instead." Ohdeargodthankyou. It's wonderful being with old friends, but take decompression stops on the way back to reality.

Slowly coming up for air.

2. You'll never really be a local again.

For some people this is a very big deal. You've felt like a stick-out, sore thumb, foreigner for a long time now. You've looked forward to going back home where you fit in and belong. But sometimes that doesn't happen. Once a 15-year-old expat, Indian kid told me, "In Congo everybody knows I'm a foreigner so I can't get a bargain. Then I go back to India, and look at me! They know I don't live there either. There's no where on this planet I'm charged local price."

I took this as a very deep and profound statement from a Third Culture Kid on the cultural complexities of his unique identity. I think he literally meant that he (or his parents more likely) couldn't get cheap video games. Either way, there may be an adjustment period before fitting in again. See Tip 1, above. Or it may never happen.

3. There are no good questions.

Lots of people will ask questions. I don't know if any of them ever lead to an honest answer. I have no idea what kind of question could. I've thought about this a lot. Even I, living this life, have zero ideas for inspiring someone to talk authentically about their experience abroad. So how was Serbia? Was it cold? Wasn't there a war there at one time or another? This is the extent of my ability to ask good questions after someone has returned.

A few visits home ago, Adam returned from one of those quick after church chit-chats and said, "Wow, that person asked some great questions. I had to really think about my answers." Really!? What were they!? What did they ask!? I was excited to be close to the holy grail of the perfect question. He couldn't remember. 5 minutes after his amazing conversation. Awesome.

Honestly, I only remember one question we've ever been asked. It's a clear winner. Adam and I arrived in Portland late one night and hopped in a cab to get to our hotel. The cab driver was unbelievably friendly and obviously, completely stoned. It was a long ride. It came up in conversation that we lived in the Congo. There was a long pause. Then he shouted, "Holy f***ing shit. You live in the Congo!? What's the craziest f***ing thing you've ever seen?" His enthusiasm overwhelmed us. We had no idea what to say to keep from disappointing him. (See Tip 4 below.) We fumbled. I don't know what we said. We probably made something up. But he didn't care. When we got to our hotel he gave us a deal on cab fare and offered us pot because he was so excited we lived in the f***ing Congo. For sure, the best response we've ever received.

  by  Horia Varlan 

4. There are no good answers.  

To use Congo as an example, here's how it usually goes when I answer questions:

Question: So how's Congo?

Bad answer: Oh it's great, we really like it. (I mean wait, it's not great. It's the poorest country and rape capital of the world. I shouldn't mislead this person.)

Worse answer: Well, it's not really that great. I mean it's great for us, but bad for locals. It's a really bad place, but we like it. (What am I saying?! That is the worst answer ever. Just stop talking.)

Question: Have you seen an Okapi?   

Bad answer: No, but I wish.

Question: Have you visited Goma?

Bad answer: No, it would be great to go.

Question: How about malaria? Ever had malaria?

Bad answer: No, sorry. Gosh I'm really striking out here...

Insightful question: Wait. Do you actually live in the Congo? Because it seems like you know nothing and have seen nothing.

Good point.

It works best to prepare a statement of 20 words or less that entertains the question-asker, authentically describes your experience and is something you can repeat with interest over and over again. Good luck.

P.S. Be sure to keep it short. At the end of the day. Nobody really cares. Really or truly cares.

5. You might not be different. Your socks might not be knocked off. 

Recently a great friend, who I've never actually met in real life, returned with her family from living abroad. Someone asked:

How are you different? Are you different now?

This is actually an awesome question. (Scratch Tip 3.) And she has a really great answer. (Scratch Tip 4. See, I told you I don't actually know anything.) She writes all about it here.

The bottom line is that you might not be different. You might not be changed. You might not be newly inspired to take care of stray kittens. This doesn't mean your experience was pointless.

When I thought about it, I don't think I'm much different either. I feel like I'm just more of an authentic version of myself. Then I read the rest of her post. Gosh darnit! That's her answer too. So here I am, still struggling to find my authentic yet interesting answer. The problem is, the longer I do this, the less I know. Wait. Maybe that's my most authentic answer. Yeah, I'll go with that.

Stealing Mama Minutia's thoughts and photos. Seriously, check out the post.

Dear readers: Please help! What tips do you have for this bizarre adjustment?

And in case you missed it: 5 Tips Part I: Before you go. 5 Tips Part II: After you get there.

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5 Tips for Moving Abroad: Part II. After You Arrive

Last week we talked about what to do before you take that giant step to move abroad. The good news is the hardest part is over (see last week's tip #2). You've said your goodbyes, you're finally on the plane and you can relax. Unless you're crying, but remember that's totally normal. Take a deep breath and get ready for your new crazy life.

1. Expect to be lonely. Pack accordingly.

If you talk to anyone who's moved somewhere without a built-in community waiting for them on the other side, they'll tell you to expect to be lonely. This is probably the best advice we got before we made our first move. Plan to get really good at doing something while you're sitting alone in your new place. I've heard of people teaching themselves a musical instrument, learning to knit, etc. Even if you're going with your husband, you'll still miss having a good group of friends. It takes a while to find them. It's okay. During our first move we didn't feel like we had good friends for a year. A WHOLE year (maybe more). And when we finally found them, I knocked off their knitted socks with my new harmonica skills. Obviously.

Your new best friend.

Bonus tip: Anyone has potential to be a great friend. For example, expats over 60 have got it going on. Look for them, be nice to them, maybe they'll let you hang out. It's one of the finest demographics around. 

2. Plan to acquire a puppy. Or small child. 

When you move to a place with a huge expat community, it's more difficult than you might think to meet people. When you pass tons of foreigners just like you everyday, no one's stopping you on the street saying, "Hey! You're American! Let's be friends!" There are many expat faces; you're not so special. Nobody cares. (Unless you move to a place like Kinshasa where when you see an expat walking down the street you're like: Who on earth is that? And why are they walking on the street?! I must meet this person.)

When we moved to Cairo, where there is an enormous expat community (or there used to be), I took the metro a lot. Here you can chose to ride on the Women's Car, or the "Mixed Car," which should really be called the Men's Only Car. Some days I took the Women's Car where they shot me judgmental stares at best, mocked my bare ankles and elbows at worst. It was a cruel car. In fact, a lot of times I preferred to risk sexual assault on the Men's Car than face judgment from the women. I think that says a lot about me.

So one day another foreign woman got on the Women's Car. I thought, Oh good, someone else for them to judge. You'll see what it's like, sister. And those mean ole Egyptian women did the strangest thing. They ran up to her and smiled and gushed and gave her their seat. Just who does this white woman think she is?! Then I saw her secret weapon: she had a BABY. Everyone wants to be friends with you if you have something cute and cuddly. Soon after, we got a dog. Our first and best friends in Egypt were the ones we met while our dogs were sniffing each other. Small children and dogs bridge cultural divides and help you meet people. Consider one or the other. Or both, if you really want to be popular.    

3. Settle hard. Settle fast.  

No matter how long you think you'll be in your new country, settle! Make your living space comfortable and make it your own as soon as possible. Think you might want a rug? Or plants? Or a lamp to kill the florescent lighting? Get them all now. It also helps to bring some things with you to put on your walls as soon as you unpack. Bonus points for the folks who bring their own concrete nails. Chances are you won't be dealing with American drywall. When someone shows up with a nice tapestry and concrete nails, you know this isn't their first rodeo.

Creating a comfortable living space is something you can control. Coming home to it will feel therapeutic when dealing with crazy cultural adjustments on the outside. See tip #4 .

4. Find a cultural consultant.   

You've heard a million times about culture shock. It's real. But what you don't hear is how it messes with your mind. At first everything seems weird. Then once you adjust to everything seeming weird, nothing is weird anymore. You've lost the ability to tell between what's normal and what's inappropriate. Because to you, it's all "cultural" and acceptable. Not true. Find yourself a cultural consultant. Ideally this is a local who you can trust to help you sort the culture from the weirdness. Here's an example from a conversation about 2 weeks after arriving in Congo:

Me: So my gardener says that my plants are dying and I should hire him to work more often so he can water them. That makes sense, right? My plants are withering. They need to be watered. 

Cultural Consultant: No, no. The rainy season is coming soon. There's no reason to do any extra watering. He knows this, he's trying to get more money from you.

Me: Oh right, of course. He's such a rascal! That guy also told me there's a "13th month" and I have to pay him double in December. That's ridiculous. He can't fool me!

Cultural Consultant: No, that's true. There is a 13th month. Pay him. He depends on it to feed his family.

Me: Oh right. Good call.  

Scam and cultural faux pas: diverted.

5. When life gives you a Kitchenette, make lots and lots of amazing food (or sit back, relax and make your husband do it).

There may be parts of your life over which you have absolutely no control. For example, assigned housing. Adam and I went from living in the most amazing apartment we knew we'd ever have, to living in a postage stamp with a kitchenette. That's fine. It's cultural. We spent a few months tripping over each other in the kitchen. Sharing the same 2'x2' counterspace to make all our meals. This type of a set-up might work great for some marriages. But for us it became clear that 2 cooks in a tight spot did in fact spoil the pot. And by the time dinner was ready we were just grumpy with each other over micro-managing finely chopped onions, hypothetically speaking.

So I backed out. Adam could have the kitchen to himself. I knew meals wouldn't be as great without my "crappily chopped onions," but whatever, he could make dinner alone and then beg for me to help when he got overwhelmed. What happened next was the greatest phenomenon of our marriage. He became an incredible cook/baker/chef extraordinaire, which also meant he had to take over all the grocery shopping because I just didn't have the proper "culinary vision." My favorite takeaway from our Congo experience will be a chef husband, followed by our two babies. In that order.

Perfecting his art. In a corner, behind a door.

Bottom line: Your house/commute/job/life in general may feel horribly uncomfortable and unworkable now, but wait and see what you can make of it.

Next week: Part III. After you return home. (Hint: Nobody's really that interested.) 

And if you missed it, here's last week's 5 Tips Before You Go.

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5 Tips for Moving Abroad: Part I. Before You Leave

Jill and I often hear from readers. Obviously most of the questions are about fashion tips* and a close second is advice on moving abroad. When we were interviewed by Cup of Jo, besides the commenters calling us neo-colonialists, we noticed a lot of people saying they'd "always wanted to live abroad" or raise families in another culture. Which leads to my first tip on how to move abroad...

1. Just go. 

Seriously. If you're thinking about it and if there's any part of you that wants to give it a try, just go. Don't give yourself time to talk yourself out of it. Go. Some people have absolutely no interest in moving abroad. That's totally fine. Somebody's gotta hold down the homefront. But if you have any desire to move abroad, that's about all it takes. I mean, how hard could it be? This leads me to #2.

2. The hardest part is the leaving part.  

Everyone's scared of moving to a new place. But that foreign country isn't the scariest part. You have to leave your current home. This is the hardest part. "But I have so much stuff and a house and a car," you say. This is why there are buyers and renters and dumpsters. "And so many friends and family I'm leaving behind!" This is true. This is hard. But take it from someone who left before the dawn of Facebook. There is now Facebook. And Skype. These are game-changers. Gone are the days of missionaries leaving on a boat and receiving letters twice a year. Thanks to the magic of social media, your friend's Instagrammed pic of the coffee they're drinking looks the same from 10 blocks or 10,000 miles away.

3. No really, sell your car.

I know it's hard. But if you're going to be gone for any substantial amount of time and you can't take your car with you, just sell it. Your Honda Civic you got in high school will be the last thing on your mind when you step off the plane in your new home (ahem, brother-in-law). Same goes for the rest of your stuff, really. Somewhere in an attic in Virginia we have stuff we never got rid of. Once during a trip home we started to sort through our old boxes and as soon as we found socks without mates we closed that box right up and threw in the towel. What on earth were we thinking keeping all this stuff? A good rule of thumb when deciding to keep it or trash it, ask yourself: Will I think about it after I'm gone? Will I miss it when I come back from fill in the blank amazing country when I have more cool and exotic stuff? No? Rent it. Sell it. Or dumpster it.

This is how old your car will feel when you return. Seriously, sell it.

  by  Hugo90 

4. Expect to regret it.

Each and every time I've moved to a new country, there has come a point when I have regretted it. I'm not just talking about nervousness or culture shock. I'm talking about the feeling in your gut when you lay down on your first night in a bug-infested mattress in West Africa, or are up to your elbows in Cairene filth as you clean your new apartment, or the morning before you leave for the Congo and have a breakdown in the shower because you're moving to the freakin' heart of darkness. (I mean, speaking hypothetically of course.)

You will think know at some point that it's the wrong decision. You have made a big mistake. But really, this is your gut confusing regret with leaving your comfort zone. Ah yes. This calls for an inspirational poster...

And at the end of the day. If it's really that bad, the plane goes both ways. You can always go back from whence you came. Except you might have already sold all of your stuff...

5. You won't regret it. 

Worst case scenario: You hated your experience abroad and moved back home to no belongings. But you still did it! This is more than most people can say. Most realistic case scenario: Your experience was/still is great and you haven't yet moved back home. And if you end up having kids while abroad, they will obviously turn out amazing.

Just look at these precious, well-mannered expat kids. Photo credit: Jill Humphrey

* My husband is sweet enough to think I need to clarify to readers that asking me for fashion tips is a joke.

We know many of our readers have also taken the moving abroad plunge. What other suggestions do you have?

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