Expat Mums Blog

It IS a small world after all

It turns out that two of our favourite Brit expats in America have recently discovered that not only do they have similar experiences getting used to life in the US midwest but they have met before, a little while ago. They recently published posts talking of this coincidence that neatly demonstrates the smallness of the world. Both posts are reproduced here, complete with photos of some very young bloggers-to-be.

Lady Marmalade

This was my second marmalade season. Last year I was amazed and beguiled by the ease of making home-made marmalade. My first attempt was a triumphant success. I put oranges, sugar and water into the pot - stirred a few times in between feeding and changing the baby - and a few hours later I had a crisp, tangy, jewel-coloured jelly that set like a dream. Like gelatinous sunshine in a jar.

I'll admit I got a bit cocky. I wrote about how simple it all was, and how unnecessary it was for people to over-complicate things like cooking.

This year, it was different.

Home is where the heart is -- but where's your heart

“Don’t you ever miss home?” an old friend asked me on Facebook a few days ago. She was referring to Sardinia, the Italian island where I was born and lived until the age of 17. More specifically, she was referring to Nuoro, the “city” so small it is barely a city at all – more of a town, really – where we all lived, went to school, met in the evening to walk up and down the Corso Garibaldi, the main street, and then stop at the Piazza Vittorio Emanuele, the square where we all went to play as kids, because our parents would take us back to where they used to hang out with their friends; the square where we also, as teens, started hanging out with our friends.

The Little Things I Miss

Proper bacon butties on a soft white bun
Greasy spoon caffs, the crossword in the Sun.
Office gossip, discussing last night’s TV
The little work crushes and builder’s tea.

Boots the Chemist, Greggs sausage rolls
New M&S pants to replace mine with holes
Football away days, the Balti pies
Wins over Derby and FA cup ties

One New Year’s Resolution I Won’t Be Breaking

My foremost resolution for 2010 is to bring our baby into the world.  I’m 39 weeks pregnant; baby and I are cramped and uncomfortable; there’s no turning back now. 

I’m ready to become a mom.  My pregnancy has been a wild, sushi and brie free ride of new understanding.  I never pondered the ins and outs of pregnancy until I joined the club.  I’d never heard of quickening, TENS machines, toxoplasmosis or perineal massage.  I also never considered giving birth any other way than spread eagle on my back in a hospital bed, numbed by an epidural and probably shouting obscenity at my husband for impregnating me in the first place.  Birth would be just like in the movies, right?

A Serial Short Term Expat

OK, so I’m not really officially an Expat mum … at the moment … but I have been and well, with the way my feet are itching at the moment, I’m pretty sure I will be again. So, on the invite of the lovely Emily at Brits in Bosnia, here I am!

I first entered the world of being an expat age 23 when I spent six wonderful months living in Japan – minus a baby. I remember stepping off the plane and navigating myself in a daze around the busy airport swarming with people. I had a broad smile on my face and burning flames of excitement deep in my stomach. It took all I had to stop them from leaping right out of my mouth. I remember thinking “this is the life for me.”

There is no queue in Hungarian

I have to admit it, I am a British person to the core of my being.  Living away from the UK for over a year has finally taught me this.  There are a lot of British cultural traits/ modes of behaviour that I can do without, queuing is not one of them.  I have always been a stickler for queue etiquette- waiting my turn even when the Kids were desperate for the loo and the sensible thing would have been to push in.  If someone pushed in front in a queue I would tut tut, mutter, or sometimes when I was feeling brave actually say something.  This is not something that I can do in Hungary.  For a start there is not a letter Q in Hungarian.  Some foreign words seem to have sneaked in here like "quick" but when they appear they are spelled with a "kv". 

US vs. UK Christmas

As our fair Josie at Sleep is for the Weak is taking a holiday sabatical from the Writing Workshop, we here at Cafe Bebe are struggling for inspiration.  I’ve gone to Josie for a personal prompt and it’s a good one!  Her advice, US vs UK Christmases?  Which one is better?  What’s different??  Are you ready for a bit of Christmas cheer??

Here is what my Christmases were like in the US…it should be noted that I DO NOT SPEAK FOR ALL AMERICANS!

• The official Christmas shopping season begins the day after Thanksgiving. Every shop in the land is open at 5 or 6am with “Door Buster” sales and all sorts of incentives to get silly shoppers out of the house at ridiculous o’clock. Thanksgiving is usually the 4th Thursday in November- this past year it was the 26th of November so “Black Friday” was 27 November.

Fresh off the boat

He walked up behind me at the bus stop, where I had just arrived moments earlier. I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye and found nothing warranting closer inspection. Late 30s, dark suit, dark hair, briefcase in hand. Nothing more than a guy on his way to work, though it was well past rush hour and most businesspeople had already been in the office for an hour or so. I lifted the corners of my mouth in the almost-imperceptible ‘this is London and I don’t know you so I’m being a bit wary’ smile and turned back to looking for the bus, which was due any moment according to the electronic message board.

He took one step closer and asked, while gesturing towards the message board, “Do all of these buses go to Richmond station?”

“Yes, it’s only the 65 that goes past here and they all go to the station. Should be one here by now but that thing has said ‘bus due’ for a good five minutes now. You know how accurate these things are,” I said with a shrug and an subtle eyeroll, to indicate my disapproval of London’s public transport system, a required topic of conversation while waiting for a bus or train.

Missing the Christmas spirit

I've had Christmases abroad but until we moved to Bosnia I had never spent a Christmas in a country which doesn't really celebrate Christmas*. Christmas Day is a normal working day here and I am finding it odd. I hadn't realised how ingrained into my psyche Christmas is and to be somewhere where Christmas doesn't really feature is unsettling. There aren't really any cheesy Christmas movies on TV. That special sort of Christmas smell, the gingery, cinammony, fir tree smell is lacking. I'm missing Christmas carols - hell, I'm even missing Slade and Band Aid.

I'm finding this most difficult around the boys. We may live in Bosnia, but they are English and Christmas is a huge part of their culture. They need to grow up learning about the nativity, getting excited about presents, enjoying the build up, the parties, the preparation and the anticipation of it all. There are no Christmas activities at their nursery, no nativity play, no shepherd's in tea towels, no Mary forgetting her lines and dropping Baby Jesus.