I am surrounded by ex expats. My mother has lived in Germany, Belgium,
Italy, and Iran. My father has lived in Italy, Iceland, Bahrain,
Morocco, and Antarctica. My boyfriend has called both Austria and Armenia home. My best
friend doing the same in the U.K., Belgium, and South Africa. Needless to say, with
this kind of circle of influence I have a passion for travel. My first trip abroad was as a student ambassador to Australia and New
Zealand at the age of 12. Since then, travel has been an integral part
of my life. Like a smoker, it somehow always fits into my budget. Travel inspires imagination and excitement in me, like a story about to be written.
Starting with an atlas, ink and paper form an awareness of faraway places. Colors show where one country starts and another stops; purple for this, orange for that, with a line in-between demarcating some real place determined to be the proper, invisible boundary between this nation or that. After the physical location is sketched in my mind, I then turn to the guidebooks to color it in. The ten glossy pages stuck in the middle of the book act as a paintbrush, bringing a place to life with photos. Reading the words that sandwich the glossy middle bring the mental image to life. Absorbing the assessment by a globe trotter who has planted his backpack in a region of the world for stint to find and share with other travelers where the best local food is served and where the most comfortable dorm bed can be found.
The purchase of the plane ticket will forever be a test of wits and determination. Hours on Kayak.com inputting, with mathematical precision, a search for 'nearby' airports + the exact perfect combination of buses and regional airports that will save you $80 + comparing results of a search from Monday to that on Thursday + oh, and by the way, what is the actual dollar difference after calculating in baggage for the different carriers = the perfect ticket cost... or maybe I should wait the magic number of days to search again when prices will suddenly drop by $500 and I will regret clicking purchase now.
Eventually, you get on some foreign carrier to cross an ocean. I have, in my travels, sat next to all kinds of people including the Chief of Surgery at Mt. Sinai, a Colonel in the South African Air Force, a doctor on a Doctors Without Borders mission, and a four year old. You share a compartmentalized meal with your seatmate as you find out where they are going and why. This part of a trip is what stokes my fire for the journey. Touching down in a new place for the first time is a rush, challenging me to problem solve, assess, and make decisions. This time, this process was all conducted under the guise of a long-term time commitment. I was to be an expat for the first time.
The thing about being an expat is that rush and excitement are cradled in a certain realization; when it hits you that I am going to be here awhile. My moment came last Sunday after biking 10 miles in what was dubbed a "Tour de Culture". I was sitting in blazing sun wearing dark jeans, somewhere in the middle of the countryside, desperate for shade. Our only refuge came from the small shadow created by a two-door car parked in a dry field. While we waited for the mayor of this town to welcome us and proclaim that this was the youngest municipality in Kosovo, we resorted to sitting on dry cow patties to catch a piece of that sweet, elusive shade. My only thought came with a sudden desperation and prayer that our water would be turned on when we eventually made it home.
Later that night, my tour de culture continued as I started a three day food poisoning diet. My initiation as an expat had begun. I was told by my loved ones that being an expat would not always be easy. Travel for vacation is different because you know that you will be returning home at some point in the near future and to all of its familiar comforts. As an expat, you have to get through the hard times in your foreign environment. Living in a developing country requires a degree of acceptance of the situation without being critical of why. Part of the gift of my time as an expat is that it will challenge me to change my perspective and the way I evaluate things.
In my first three weeks, my initiation as an expat has opened my mind to difficult concepts while the people I have met, expats and Kosovars alike, have filled me with warmth.
Kosovo Initiation Roundup
1. Communism. The hangover of communism makes the concept of obtaining an education very different here. During my first meeting of English teachers to develop our grading scale, I was told that we could not have a policy of no make up exams as students were allowed to have a handful of makeups and the students themselves dictate when they will do this make up, maybe two years from now. I immediately respond with exasperation and outrage explaining how absolutely insane this is as it provides no incentive to do anything. I am met with a resigned indifference from people that have obviously fought this battle for longer than I have been around. This policy, that is common across the region, is built on the idea that everyone has a right to take that final exam and to pass the class.
2. Communism addendum: failing a class is never reported on a transcript. All that matters is that you pass, and everyone has a right to pass. Failing is the same as not having done the class at all.
3. Sometimes you don't want to feel like a foreigner and for that, there will always be an Irish pub. Sometimes you are just going to want to see familiar things. No matter where you are in the world, you can be assured that there will be an Irish pub to find solace from your foreign environment in dark wood, heavy upholstery, soccer scarves, french fries, and Guinness.
4. People are proud of their nationality and want to share their culture with you. The beautiful opportunity expats have is the chance to spend quality time with people from other cultures. My first week at work here, I was invited to an all Albanian barbeque in the country side. The meat was plentiful and the beer was flowing. A large table was set with various foods to share as we talked into the night, laughing together.
5. The other beautiful opportunity expats have is the chance to spend quality time with kindred spirits from the U.S. There is something so fascinating about meeting a fellow American who is working on some important aspect of a random country. So many people from our country have dedicated their personal and professional lives to bettering places they have no prior connection with. I love to meet them and hear their story.
6. Humor can overcome language barriers. I found myself in a car on an hour long drive with three prominent Albanian businessmen who sit on the board of the University where I work. They spoke very little English and we were relegated to basic communication. Eventually, we devolved to the point where I would just point out signs and attempt pronouncing the notoriously difficult Albanian letters.
Nice Albanian Gentleman: "Do you know, ë"? (pronounced unh)
Me: "Eh?"
NAG: "No, no: unh."
Me: "Unh, unh."
Laughing ensues by all.
7. The dance. The relationship between driver and pedestrian is like that of a dance circle: it's someones turn, no one knows who until they jump into the space. There is no right of way. Also, there is no annual vehicle inspection to make sure your reverse lights work so you have to be ready to react with no warning. And in Kosovo, there is no difference between road and sidewalk further pressing you to be ready for anything.
8. Most importantly, your home is your sanctuary. Even though I am in a landlocked country in the middle of the Balkans, inside my apartment I am home. It's a cozy refuge that has my things and my dog. It comforts me just the same as any of my other homes. When those inevitable down days come along, you can always go home.
This year will challenge me and inspire me but, most of all, I hope that it will open my heart and mind to embrace possibility in things that are out of my comfort zone.
Starting with an atlas, ink and paper form an awareness of faraway places. Colors show where one country starts and another stops; purple for this, orange for that, with a line in-between demarcating some real place determined to be the proper, invisible boundary between this nation or that. After the physical location is sketched in my mind, I then turn to the guidebooks to color it in. The ten glossy pages stuck in the middle of the book act as a paintbrush, bringing a place to life with photos. Reading the words that sandwich the glossy middle bring the mental image to life. Absorbing the assessment by a globe trotter who has planted his backpack in a region of the world for stint to find and share with other travelers where the best local food is served and where the most comfortable dorm bed can be found.
The purchase of the plane ticket will forever be a test of wits and determination. Hours on Kayak.com inputting, with mathematical precision, a search for 'nearby' airports + the exact perfect combination of buses and regional airports that will save you $80 + comparing results of a search from Monday to that on Thursday + oh, and by the way, what is the actual dollar difference after calculating in baggage for the different carriers = the perfect ticket cost... or maybe I should wait the magic number of days to search again when prices will suddenly drop by $500 and I will regret clicking purchase now.
Eventually, you get on some foreign carrier to cross an ocean. I have, in my travels, sat next to all kinds of people including the Chief of Surgery at Mt. Sinai, a Colonel in the South African Air Force, a doctor on a Doctors Without Borders mission, and a four year old. You share a compartmentalized meal with your seatmate as you find out where they are going and why. This part of a trip is what stokes my fire for the journey. Touching down in a new place for the first time is a rush, challenging me to problem solve, assess, and make decisions. This time, this process was all conducted under the guise of a long-term time commitment. I was to be an expat for the first time.
The thing about being an expat is that rush and excitement are cradled in a certain realization; when it hits you that I am going to be here awhile. My moment came last Sunday after biking 10 miles in what was dubbed a "Tour de Culture". I was sitting in blazing sun wearing dark jeans, somewhere in the middle of the countryside, desperate for shade. Our only refuge came from the small shadow created by a two-door car parked in a dry field. While we waited for the mayor of this town to welcome us and proclaim that this was the youngest municipality in Kosovo, we resorted to sitting on dry cow patties to catch a piece of that sweet, elusive shade. My only thought came with a sudden desperation and prayer that our water would be turned on when we eventually made it home.
Later that night, my tour de culture continued as I started a three day food poisoning diet. My initiation as an expat had begun. I was told by my loved ones that being an expat would not always be easy. Travel for vacation is different because you know that you will be returning home at some point in the near future and to all of its familiar comforts. As an expat, you have to get through the hard times in your foreign environment. Living in a developing country requires a degree of acceptance of the situation without being critical of why. Part of the gift of my time as an expat is that it will challenge me to change my perspective and the way I evaluate things.
In my first three weeks, my initiation as an expat has opened my mind to difficult concepts while the people I have met, expats and Kosovars alike, have filled me with warmth.
Kosovo Initiation Roundup
1. Communism. The hangover of communism makes the concept of obtaining an education very different here. During my first meeting of English teachers to develop our grading scale, I was told that we could not have a policy of no make up exams as students were allowed to have a handful of makeups and the students themselves dictate when they will do this make up, maybe two years from now. I immediately respond with exasperation and outrage explaining how absolutely insane this is as it provides no incentive to do anything. I am met with a resigned indifference from people that have obviously fought this battle for longer than I have been around. This policy, that is common across the region, is built on the idea that everyone has a right to take that final exam and to pass the class.
2. Communism addendum: failing a class is never reported on a transcript. All that matters is that you pass, and everyone has a right to pass. Failing is the same as not having done the class at all.
3. Sometimes you don't want to feel like a foreigner and for that, there will always be an Irish pub. Sometimes you are just going to want to see familiar things. No matter where you are in the world, you can be assured that there will be an Irish pub to find solace from your foreign environment in dark wood, heavy upholstery, soccer scarves, french fries, and Guinness.
4. People are proud of their nationality and want to share their culture with you. The beautiful opportunity expats have is the chance to spend quality time with people from other cultures. My first week at work here, I was invited to an all Albanian barbeque in the country side. The meat was plentiful and the beer was flowing. A large table was set with various foods to share as we talked into the night, laughing together.
5. The other beautiful opportunity expats have is the chance to spend quality time with kindred spirits from the U.S. There is something so fascinating about meeting a fellow American who is working on some important aspect of a random country. So many people from our country have dedicated their personal and professional lives to bettering places they have no prior connection with. I love to meet them and hear their story.
6. Humor can overcome language barriers. I found myself in a car on an hour long drive with three prominent Albanian businessmen who sit on the board of the University where I work. They spoke very little English and we were relegated to basic communication. Eventually, we devolved to the point where I would just point out signs and attempt pronouncing the notoriously difficult Albanian letters.
Nice Albanian Gentleman: "Do you know, ë"? (pronounced unh)
Me: "Eh?"
NAG: "No, no: unh."
Me: "Unh, unh."
Laughing ensues by all.
7. The dance. The relationship between driver and pedestrian is like that of a dance circle: it's someones turn, no one knows who until they jump into the space. There is no right of way. Also, there is no annual vehicle inspection to make sure your reverse lights work so you have to be ready to react with no warning. And in Kosovo, there is no difference between road and sidewalk further pressing you to be ready for anything.
8. Most importantly, your home is your sanctuary. Even though I am in a landlocked country in the middle of the Balkans, inside my apartment I am home. It's a cozy refuge that has my things and my dog. It comforts me just the same as any of my other homes. When those inevitable down days come along, you can always go home.
This year will challenge me and inspire me but, most of all, I hope that it will open my heart and mind to embrace possibility in things that are out of my comfort zone.
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