Coffee Anyone?

One of the differences between working in the US and Australia is that, working as an Executive Assistant, I'm expected to do menial tasks for those above me, such as getting the coffee...and occasionally even being sent to pick up lunch. I can remember only once being asked to go get lunch for a boss in the US as he was running late for a meeting, and he apologised profusely for asking. Nowadays, I'm very often asked to come into a room, take drink orders, then go make the teas and coffees. I keep my mouth shut because I like my workplace, and I know the culture is different here, but I still find it a bit off. I don't think secretaries in the US have gotten coffee since the '80s, or perhaps it began in the '70s with Iris Rivera's protest. If you're an admin, do you make the coffees, and where do you live?

The Rest of my Life -or- Now What?!

2002
Paris, France (March)
England & Ireland (Aug/Sept)

2003
Ireland (March)
Montreal (August)
Ireland (Aug/Sept)
Northern Ireland (November)

2004
Northern Ireland (June - Sept)

2005
Scotland (March)
Wales & England (May)
Ireland (December)

2006
Amsterdam (February)
Paris (April)
Prague (April)
Northern Ireland (July)

The above is off of the last page of a blank book I've used for recipes for over 10 years. I have listed trips, from 1998 to 2007, at which point I moved 'Down Under'. When I pulled it out the other day, I realised I hadn't added anything since then, and then I realised aside from travelling around Australia and going home to the US a couple of times, I haven't really been anywhere in about 3 years. When I say I haven't been anywhere, I mean I haven't been outside of the country, which for me is a big deal since, as you can see, I used to do a lot of trips overseas. In addition to that, I'd lived in 5 different countries since 2004, so being in the same country for the past 3 years has felt rather stiffling. I decided to do a bit of a google on settling down after travelling. While I don't remember exactly what words I used, I came up with blogs such as the Grounded Traveler, the Rest of my Life, and one where I found this quote: "After so many years in perpetual motion, it's difficult to accept settling down and staying put." Ain't that the truth, I thought! After years of thinking about where I wanted to end up, putting some plans into action, and seeing some outcomes, I'm grounded. I'm married, I own a house, and I live very far from anywhere I can get to within a reasonable amount of time and in a cost efficient manner. Add to that, there are only 3 countries Adelaide Airport has flights to directly, and there goes my habit of doing a quick trip abroad on the weekend. So, the question is, now what? How do I avoid being a boring married homeowner? How do I keep life exciting? And how do I continue to do often what I love best - travel, particularly while I'm still paying off my grad school fees and renovating a house? I haven't quite figured it out yet, so I'll have to check back in later. This, right here...this blogging, is one of those things I do that makes life a bit more interesting. I may do it less frequently, and my voice may have changed over the years I've been doing it, but it somehow helps me to touch base with that part of myself that is always forward looking, thinking about what may be still to come.

Turning Wine into Water

Today marks one year and one day at my current job (well, when I began this post a few weeks ago anyway). Last year, at my first staff meeting, I was called upon as a newbie and asked a few introductory questions. I'm not sure my new boss liked either of my answers. In addition to coming up with the Big Rocking Horse as my favourite South Australian tourist destination, I answered that I never make New Year's resolutions. It's true. I find it pointless to make a resolution simply because it's expected based upon the time of year, particularly since most of those resolutions deal with the same old tired things people typically aspire to but never achieve. I'm making an exception to my rule this year, however. Two things spurred me to action. One was seeing a magazine advertisement for FebFast, which is the idea to give up alcohol for the shortest month of the year. Similar to Movember, participants usually donate to register, and collect donations from supporters, but I'm too cheap for that, so I'll simply cheer myself on. I'm going to replace all that alcohol with water and see if it makes any difference to my newly acquired allergies and the frequent dehydration I feel living in South Australia. Would love if it made a difference to my waistline as well! The second thing that made me realise I needed to make some changes was finding out that a new friend was moving away. The truth is, Expats move more often than others, and since I hang out mostly with expats, some of the friends I make are not going to stick around. I'd grown a bit lazy and complacent, not getting around to planning a monthly Expats in Adelaide meet up, but realise it's a good idea, no matter how many friends you have, to keep meeting new people. So far, I've gone 4 days without any booze, and the 2nd yearly expat meet up is this week. Perhaps I'll call these my Australia Day resolutions since I'm a month late!

I Have Arrived

An epiphany is described as having a sudden realisation. This happens when you can all of a sudden see the larger picture, or find the missing piece. I had an epiphany the other week. I realised that I finally have enough friends that more than one are sometimes free on the same night. It may sound like something small, but when you come to a new place and start out knowing no one, this is huge. I'm almost 3 years into life in Adelaide, and it did take well over 2 years to get to the point where I've felt as though I'm not so all alone. We often take our relationships for granted when we live in a place our entire lives, so to suddenly be without any (aside from our new spouse) can be extremely isolating. I've often compared making new friends as an expat to dating - we meet up with new people, in public places, for a drink or a meal, and see if we have anything in common other than the fact that we're looking for someone else to relate to. If we get along well enough the first time, we try again, perhaps adding in a movie or other such social event. Often times, after a few months of getting together, we realise we just aren't that into each other, and we move on. If we do find that we have some things in common, we spend a year or so getting to know each other better, until we're comfortable enough to just ring up one day out of the blue to meet up for lunch. It's work, which is probably why, after going through the dance a few times and securing some friends, we stop trying to make new ones. One thing we should learn from the expat friendship quest is that working on new relationships should be ever present and ongoing. In addition to the fact that expats move on much more frequently than those who live in the place they've grown up, and we'll lose everyday friends due to this, we become more aware (or should do) that meeting new people enriches our lives. I never ever make new year's resolutions, but I'm going to start this year by making it an active goal to keep meeting new people, at a time when I could become complacent simply because I do finally have some mates.

I Feel Emasculated

I just realised that I've begun this post twice, in draft form. I only got as far as the subject line, but an interaction with my neighbour just now reminded me that I wanted to write about the topic. In my 3 years of living in Australia, I have realised that, much moreso than in the US, it is difficult to get men to acknowledge, listen to and communicate with you if you are a woman. One example - our neighbour has been using our driveway to get access to his own backyard, in order to install an inground pool. As a result of doing so, we need to organise a new fence. Here in Australia, both neighbours on the side of the fence being put up have to agree to the type, size and colour of the fence, and split the cost. (This means you have 3 different sets of neighbours you have to work with to get the fence done around your house, by the way.) In the beginning, M_ next door would come over to chat to us about the fence, but only communicate with hubs. He barely looked at me, and he certainly didn't ask my opinion. Granted, hubs lived here a few years without me and M_ doesn't really know me, but it is obvious I'm the wife, which means the fence is my fence as well. It's taken over a week to get any acknowledgement. When hubs went next door to talk to M_ about the fence, he simply advised me he was going, but didn't suggest I come with. Had I not insisted in being involved in the discussions taking place, I'm not entirely sure my opinion would have been requested. This seems to happen a lot with Aussie men; you have to work harder to be heard. Never before living here have I realised that there is not a feminine equivilant to the word emasculation. There should be.

P.S. In this instance, the title should perhaps have been, Good Fences Make Good Neighbors (and that's with a u, as Robert Frost was American).

Devastated

I had my braces taken off today, 6 months after they were put on, and approximately 1 1/2 years after the fall that caused me to eventually need orthodontics. While I was explaining to the hygienist who I'd never met before (because that's who takes the braces off and fits the retainers here) about the fall, she asked how I felt when it happened. I paused, and then said...devastated. I never thought about how I felt when it happened specifically, and people have never asked; they only say "well that must have hurt." I thought all the time about 'if only' it hadn't happened, and was upset about it, but never put a particular word to it. But, it was devastating. Here I was, one year into life in Oz, not really having a good time of it - house renos sitting undone, husband working late, hating my job, and there I go and literally fall on my face, and my dentist 10,000 miles away. There were dental appointments, endodontist appointments, splints, bonding, very sore teeth, a bite that was off, not able to eat certain things (only graduated to being able to eat a sandwich without being in pain a couple of months ago), and then braces, for the 2nd time in my life. It has absolutely sucked. The end is in sight however, with just some major and minor cosmetic work to be done, fingers crossed. It felt good to say out loud today..."I was devastated." So I'm glad that hygienist asked me how I felt, even if she did then proceed to crack the bonding right off one of my teeth, but then that's another story.

The Siren Song of 'Home Leave'

The expat going home for a visit doesn't typically term it a holiday or vacation, but calls it home leave. We take time off to visit family and friends, and if we're lucky we also get to relax and refresh. In order to do both the former and the latter, we need an employer that will allow appropriate time off, because you can't quite do it in a week or two. I'm lucky enough, finally, to have a boss who didn't blink an eye when I asked for 5 weeks off. And at the end of the day, I'd leave a job that wouldn't allow me time to spend with my family. But that's getting off the original topic.

Generally, expats feel a pull between two identities - that of the person he or she was in our homeland, and the person we have become in our new home. At no time is this feeling more present than in the midst of home leave. I left Australia, as a (finally) proud South Australian, and landed in Chicago wanting to raise my arms up and clap upon landing in my home town. Here in Oz, I am a wife, a homeowner, and sometimes, an outsider. In Chicago, I feel like a diva. I whip around on expressways (on the right side of the road), I stay out late and challenge the bouncers at my regular drinking establishments, I know the customs... I can shop late, request an apple martini with Absolute Mandarin without the bartender looking confused, and ultimately, just feel like I belong. To be honest, I was afraid to leave - knowing that confidence wouldn't quite follow me back to Adelaide. There are always tears in the airport, and the relinquishment of the Chicago Susan. And there is the feeling that the confidence, power, and ease that comes from being in one's own environment isn't really worth giving up. And then I get on the plane, and 30 hours later, upon landing in Adelaide, the siren song of home slowly dissipates. Within a few days, I realise that Australia really is becoming home for me. I like my house, my marriage is maturing in a wonderful way, and I love my job. The pieces are falling into place, far from where I come from, and while I may not be Chicago Susan, I'm happy with the person I am becoming.

Being One of the Gang

I have a somewhat blunt & immature way of expressing myself, as my 'friends' on Facebook know. For instance, I think Julia Gillard is a bit of a *#$!. Something that bugs the shit out of me lately is the attitude towards immigrants in Australia, and it didn't help that she pandered to public opinion by stating that 'we don't need a big Australia.' So I take it that means she doesn't want me here - or is it just the supposed undesirables that arrive on the boats. To that I say, we are one and the same, aside from the fact that I had a bit more of a choice, and I can go and see my family whenever I want. When people talk about immigrants and foreigners in front of me, I thank them for being so considerate. And they often state that they mean the bludgers, not me. Well, guess what - I happen to be an immigrant, and as such, I too sometimes feel as though I'm not a perfect fit. After spending heaps of time feeling as though I don't belong here, I finally decided it was time to get over it. The turning point was probably when the clerk at Foodland asked me where I was from (see my earlier post). I've decided that from now on, I belong. The change in personal attitude changes the way people react to me. Try it.

The Unfriend

I've been doing a bit of Facebook clean out the last few days. I'm 'unfriending' people who I never speak to, who I perhaps added as a result of one or two meetings, as well as those acquaintences who only seem to come onto my page to insult me. The problem with Facebook friends is that only a small minority of them are actually that. Most of the people you link with don't really know you very well, and vice versa. You often link with folks who aren't very mature, and can't grasp the idea that it's ok to agree to disagree. I have a lot of strong, sometimes controversial opinions, which have their place. I don't voice them at work, or among certain family, but I do sometimes talk about them on Facebook. I'm often amazed by the lack of respect others show for an opinion differing from theirs. On the other hand, the bonus is that, while in a new country and trying to make new connections and friends, I can easily suss out the ones that I'm not interested in keeping by posting an occasional opinion;)

The Slow Track

I love my 'new' job, but it has been absolutely full on lately. We're down a few staff, which is both a good and bad thing. It's good, because it gives me an opportunity to pick up new projects and challenges across different areas, and...well, not bad, just a tad tiring. It's made me realise that after years of feeling bad that after a proper education, I was just an administrator, I'm actually quite glad that I've only slowly moved up the food chain. If being down a few staff has made me busy, it's got a couple of my managers running around like chickens with their heads cut off. Makes me glad that I haven't yet gotten to the point in my career where I'm just someone else's bitch.