expat

La vida loca, aka “the crazy shit”

Posted on by karenkleinwort

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Again this summer, I realized what an un-normal, out of the ordinary life we are living.

My friend whom I helped a bit with her move, she just talked about “the crazy shit” after a while. We also called it “la vida loca”, but what she this summer and we last summer had to go through had nothing to do with the Ricky Martin song.

What I am talking about is a transatlantic move with a family of four. Ending the life you led at some place on this globe for several years, packing up everything, saying good-bye to friends. End of that story that was called “Berlin” (in her case) or “Mexico City” (in ours). She had lived in the German capital for 5.5 years, we in the Mexican for 5. Our kids spent very formative years of their lives in CDMX – our oldest from 11 to 16, our youngest from 8 to 13. No surprise, child #1 found it an extremely bad idea of parents to move at that stage in his life. He had made such good friends, he felt at home there, he wanted to continue with his life there. Period. Nothing else. For sure not start all over again, as he had done before – when he was 11 (and 7 and 2). He still remembered how it was the last time, and knows how it is, when you are the new one.

As a family, we have been living “la vida loca” for basically 18 years. My husband and I moved from Hamburg to Mexico City when he started his first job after finishing his PhD and I left mine, close to 8 months pregnant with our first child. We moved to The Hague, when child #1 was 2 years old; to Vienna, with child #2 on board, he then 4 years old. And back to Mexico in 2013. My oldest has a longer CV than some 50-year-old German who has lived in the same town all his life, done an apprenticeship and kept on working for that employer.

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What comes on top for us and my friend, is that she and me, we are not married to Germans. But a person from a different country, even different continent, definitely different culture. Which makes the whole “expat experience” far more complicated. Because, “expat” jumps pretty short when compared to that situation. We have Latin American parents in law, a bank account in a developing country, and children in Mexican and Argentinian schools. When I left Germany at the end of 2001, I learned that privileges I would have enjoyed if I had stayed in Germany did not apply to me, as I was living abroad. For example, the time I stayed at home taking care of my first-born was not recognized by the German retirement system, as I did not “educate him in Germany or a EU country”. That he, someday, might live and work in Germany (which he can, among other things, as I always spoke German to him) and pay for retired people’s pension, is totally irrelevant in that respect.

Okay, as a picture is worth a thousand words, here come a few pages…

I have sold or gotten rid of about 3 cars, fridges, TV sets, and xboxes or play stations or whatever these things are called. And yes, we have sets for both – Mexican and German outlets – for our computers, etc. Yes, this is us:

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And yes, our kids have two passports, two birth certificates, their parents are experts in consular affairs and all the paper work one needs to do when applying for a German birth certificate in Mexico or a Mexican in The Netherlands. My husband and I got married in the UK, as back then, in 2000, we had to present far less documents than in Germany (try to get a “Ledigkeitsbescheinigung” or “Auszug aus dem Melderegister” in Mexico; great fun); and he was doing his PhD at the University of London. So, this is symbolic picture number 2:

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And this is one of the most precious things I own. My set of mugs from Penguin Books which I bought when I did my masters at the University of Cambridge. And they moved with me, these mugs: in suitcases (from the UK to Cologne, from Hamburg to Mexico), in containers (from Mexico to The Hague; from Vienna to Mexico), in boxes (from one apartment to the other in Mexico, when we got hit by the 19S earthquake).

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I leave you with two more photos.

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This is the seal that the moving company put on a Hapag-Lloyd container in May 2004, the first time we moved with the Mexican Foreign Service. The last time we moved, last summer, we never saw a seal: the company was CRAP, cero a la izquierda, as they say in Mexico. The move took them more than eight weeks, instead of the usual four to five…

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And yes, a psychologist once said that I am not a piece of “Diplomatengepäck”. Being the trailing spouse, and I am sure being the trailing child of an expat or a diplomat is not easy. Has its challenges. Can suck. Big time. I guess the expat’s or diplomat’s life as well, sometimes, but one assumes that he or she decided for that kind of life at some point. And might chose the exit option if he or she does not want to carry on with it.

But all in all, looking back at nearly 18 years of “la vida loca”, aka “the crazy shit” has been an enriching, interesting, inspiring experience that made all of us grow. I thank my “squad Lara” for this ride! (There is a reason why I did not write this post a year ago, when we just arrived in Berlin…the “conclusion” would have sounded a lot different.)

 

Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans

Posted on by karenkleinwort

So, my PLAN was to write this blog. To write about “a range of subjects”, such as gender, equality, parenthood, living abroad, society, culture, politics and economics. That is what I put down in my first post on 4 October 2013. After that, only two more followed. Post number three starts with “It has been six weeks since I wrote and published the last blog on thedailyimperfections.com.” Accordingly, this one could start with “It has been nearly four months”. But I am not doing that, as otherwise you might expect the next post not before 2015.

A friend of mine told me last summer that when you move countries as a trailing spouse and parent, the first year is usually consumed with settling in. I thought she was exaggerating. I had moved continents twice over the last twelve years by then, on top an inner-European move, and then last summer crossing the Atlantic again to go back to Mexico. The settling in during our first time in Mexico in 2002 had to be turbo-charged, as I was 30 weeks pregnant when I arrived. We had to do so many things in little over two months to be ready for when the baby was born. When we moved to The Netherlands in 2004, it was a bit like in the movie “Groundhog Day” – I was expecting my second child, just that this time round I had another six months to go until the due date. Both moves and adaptations were intense.

When we changed from The Hague to Vienna in 2009, I thought that things would be so much easier. Being German, I considered settling in in Vienna a home match. But little did I know, that Austria and Germany are actually quite different in some aspects. Looking back on our first year there, I was on constant information collecting mode: school, kindergarten, babysitters, apartment, dealing with bureaucracy (registering a car bought in another EU country; dealing with the Finanzamt; etc.), football teams, swimming lessons, music class, doctors, winter tires, skiing vacation (for a Northern German and a Mexican definitely a new experience), the list goes on and on. I managed all that really well, but when the first school year ended in June 2010, I felt drained – and I had “only” been a “homemaker” and a mum. It took me two years to find a fixed employment in my profession.

This time with our fourth move, I find the adaptation process much easier. I am hugely profiting from the fact that I had lived in Mexico City before.  And that my husband is a “native”. For a European who has not spent time in the developing world or an emerging country, coming to this place is a challenge: the sheer size of the city, the distances, the traffic, the noise, the density of concrete buildings and asphalt streets, the amount of people, the lack of green spaces, the poverty and the stark differences between rich and poor take time, emotions and energy to get used to. Some people never get accustomed to it, and remain feeling foreign and alienated forever. And even though a lot of things are not new to me here, eight months after we arrived I am realizing that what my friend said last summer was actually not exaggerated. All of us – my husband, my two boys, and me – are still to a certain extent settling in.

So, in September of last year I made the PLAN to do this blog. And then life happened. But in line with the motto of this blog, I am keeping on trying. I am failing (when it takes me four months between posts), and I am believing that I will improve my output (next post in days or weeks rather than months; write about something else than moving and settling in). This blog is a proof of my daily imperfections. But it is also the source of satisfaction and joy when I finally come around and create something.

A personal note

Posted on by karenkleinwort

It has been six weeks since I wrote and published the last blog on thedailyimperfections.com. What happened? Life happened. I got the keys to our new apartment and a couple of days later two trucks pulled up outside the building with nearly all our belongings, i.e. 38 cubic meters.

By that time we had stayed for twelve weeks with my husband’s mother, i.e. my mum-in-law. We had basically lived out of five suitcases – one for each of our clothes, and one for shoes. That was what we had taken with us on the plane when we moved from Vienna to Mexico City at the end of July. And actually, during those twelve weeks, we had hardly been missing those 38 cubic meters. It is both impressive and embarrassing how much stuff one has.

Impressive, because after twelve weeks, I had forgotten about a lot of things that had surrounded me before. All these books – a lot read, a lot bought with the intention to one day read them; all those clothes and shoes that did not make it as “essential” into our five suitcases and that could dress another two or three families of four easily; all those souvenirs, photographs and handicrafts made by my two boys that document life and growth. The fact that one is struck with a certain element of surprise getting a lot of those things out of the movers’ boxes is partly owed to life just being intense. One usually does not have time to “miss” one’s old life when one is busy trying to establish the most practical elements of one’s new – such as getting one’s kids accepted in a new school, finding an apartment, asking around about car insurance, or making an appointment with the internet service provider.

Embarrassing, because, seriously, one has so many things one does not need – the salad spinner I bought just half a year ago, but after 25 years without a salad spinner, I cannot get used to using one; the old video camera that was overtaken by technological advancement at least twice by now, but is still the format my wedding video was shot on; the Nordic walking poles I never quite had the patience to really learn how to use them.

After four moves with a family during the last twelve years, I have learned that it is usually best if you clear out your things before the movers come. But I have also experienced that usually your time at the place you are going to leave soon is too valuable to spend it with “properly” clearing out your things. So, that task at least has to be continued when unpacking at the new place. That is why I spent the last six weeks opening boxes and putting books, clothes and dinner plates into their new spaces; arranging photographs, mothers’ day postcards and fathers’ day paintings; and throwing out some odd souvenirs that we bought some where, but that never really meant anything to me. Proof for my daily imperfections – the salad spinner is still in a box and the Nordic walking poles are stored, as I could not bring myself to just tossing them or giving them to charity.

What I also did during the last six weeks was sticking the little Jip and Janneke-magnets to our new fridge and putting the Julius Meinl-coffee jar in our kitchen – as the former is a fond memory of our time in The Netherlands, and the later of our years in Austria. Those little things make me feel at home, and looking at them again after a long while, they manage to put a smile on my face. With this achieved, I hope that “life” in the upcoming weeks and months will offer more time for contributions to thedailyimperfections.com.