It's moving time again. Smell the cardboard.

The following email was recently sent to me by my best friend who I met in A-100 in 2000.  Although we have only lived in the same place once for the 6 months of A-100, we have lived parallel lives ever since.  Our paths cross when we force them to cross.  And we do force them to cross.  She is moving from Helsinki, Finland where she has lived for three years to Sydney, Australia.  Her email captures the essence of why we live our lives the way we do.  Sit back, read, and smell the cardboard.

OK, so this is what a sick individual I am: my house smells like cardboard, that slightly sour smell that also smells like tape, and I like it. I KNOW. This goes against everything. This is the anti-me. And yet, not. For after all, I am the person that looks at a globe curiously. When I buy something, one of my first thoughts is "will I need this at my next post?"
Please don't get me wrong. I'm panicked when I found my new dishes still in the cupboard today, I'm afraid something will be left behind and, no, I don't want to leave. But that little part of me, perhaps the strongest part of me is a little excited about the smell in my house. Because without that smell, I would have never met any of you. 

Day 1 of Pack Out, done. 

love to you and yours, 

Jealousy about relocating? Really? What is wrong with me?

I can't believe it.  I think I'm jealous.  I hate moving.  With a passion.  But, there I was, driving home from the supermarket, bubbling with jealousy.  Before I headed home, I dropped off a young woman and her baby who just arrived to post yesterday.  As one of their family's sponsors, a friend and I stocked their kitchen, picked them up from the airport, and will show them and drive them around until their car arrives.  They just completed the hellacious journey from Texas to Belgrade with a baby.  They have been waiting for weeks to receive orders so they could come.  They have been living off of airfreight for a year and a suitcase for months.  All stuff I really, really, dislike.  But I'm jealous.  I am.  I'm jealous.

The day before yesterday we opened up their house.  All that is there is the government issued furniture and the bare-bones items (plates, sheets, towels, etc.) from the "Welcome Kit."  It's a beautiful apartment, part of what was once a grand old home, that's now been divided into several:  rounded fireplace, hard-wood floors, arched entrances.  As my footsteps echoed off the bare walls, I was transported back to my arrivals, the excitement, the relief, the hope.

You can picture it, can't you?  You are finally home, walking into this skeleton of a house, with generic furniture, and empty cabinets; you are home.  Discovery is around every corner; "Oh look!" a sun-porch behind the heavy curtains over by the couch, a peek outside and you discover a nice, green yard and a view of the neighbor's pool (hmmm, gotta get to know them!).  There's toilet paper in the bathroom and food in the fridge.  Someone made you dinner.  You feel so blessed, so lucky.  People are so nice.  A block away you discover a park, a pharmacy, a bakery.  Wow, this is your neighborhood.  This is your house.  Finally.  Not all of it is roses.  You make your eyes flit over the rough spots.  Every place has rough spots, some more than others.  This is your home now.  You feel some ownership to this place.


As much as the arrival at every post is the same, the differences are marked.  In Guatemala, my husband saved a moth that died in the laundry room until my son and I arrived.  It was as big as my hand.  The millipedes crawling up the walls were as long as my forearm.  National Geographic in my bedroom!  Awesome!  In Macedonia, we picked apricots and pomegranates from the overgrown and neglected garden (complete with a moldy armchair) outside the student dorms down the street.  We discovered a resident ground hog there.  We had lovely porches for every room of our house, but my neighbor's honing pigeons loved to perch on them, facing my neighbor's house; hence, a line of pigeon bums outside my kitchen windows and pigeon poop slathered all over the porches.  Ah, but who can complain.  It was funny.  The windows were grand, even if the view wasn't.  Again, we are so fortunate, so lucky.  So many of the people outside those windows heat their homes with wood-burning stoves if they are lucky.  Too many make homes out of whatever they can find.

The relief of coming home is immense, after months of living out of a suitcase, you get to put things in drawers.  Your drawers.  You don't have to worry about all of your stuff that you sifted through for months and then packed them in big crates to sail across the ocean.  It's a good thing it takes months for your stuff to arrive.  You need the breather.  You need the space.  Your space.

Home.  Discovery.  Gratitude.  Excitement.  These are the words that describe arriving at a new post for me.  They are wonderful feelings, and they are why I am jealous.  When I was showing our new friend the grocery store today, she marveled at the variety that was offered on the shelves (which maybe equals the selection at a 7/11), I nodded in agreement.

"We've got everything we need," I shrugged.

"We must live large here!"  she said with a smile.

Yes.  Yes, we do.

“Is there anything, apart from a really good chocolate cream pie and receiving a large unexpected cheque in the post, to beat finding yourself at large in a foreign city on a fair spring evening, loafing along unfamiliar streets in the long shadows of a lazy sunset, pausing to gaze in shop windows or at some church or lovely square or tranquil stretch of quayside, hesitating at street corners to decide whether that cheerful and homy restaurant you will remember fondly for years is likely to lie down this street or that one? I just love it. I could spend my life arriving each evening in a new city.” 

― Bill Bryson, Neither Here Nor There: Travels in Europe

Culture Shock: When You Realize Your Kids are Different

It first happened when we were returning to the U.S. from Guatemala with our then 2-year-old son.  We  arrived in Atlanta and while waiting for our luggage at baggage claim, I took our son to the bathroom.  On the way back, we pass someone drinking from a water fountain.  My son stopped so quickly I almost fell over him.  His mouth opened and his eyes grew wide.  "What is that, Mommy?" he asked pointing to the water fountain.  "You mean the water fountain?" I asked.  "Water fountain," my son sighed as if I had just told him it was the stairway to heaven.  I couldn't believe it.  I hadn't realized it until then that my son had never seen a water fountain, something so commonplace to me that I didn't even notice it.  He stood transfixed.  Then he looked up at me and whispered, "Can I try the water fountain?"  "Of course," I chuckled.  After he drank and slurped water down his shirt, he sprinted across the baggage claim floor shouting, "Popi!  Water fountain!  Water fountain!"  People stared at him as if he was from Mars.  I hadn't read THE book yet, (Third Culture Kids), but I had heard of it.  This must have been what they were talking about.  Things we take for granted, that are part of the background of our existence, are fresh and new in theirs.

It didn't stop with water fountains, next were mailboxes ("What are those boxes on top of those sticks in the ground?"), plastic milk jugs, and marshmallow creme.  A friend told me that ATM machines fascinated her young one, "You mean, money just falls out?"  I remember when we were returning for a year in the States and my son would be attending his first U.S. pubilc school and his first school in English.  I wanted to make sure he knew all he needed to know to enter the an American 2nd grade.  I found this great book, Home Learning Year by Year, by Rebecca Rupp, scrolled down the list and, BAM, realized that my son had never used U.S. currency.  He couldn't tell a penny from a quarter; something he would definitely need to distinguish.  Hadn't even crossed my mind.  Oops.

Melinda Shelton/ cc-by-2.0

We really try to keep our kids up on U.S. culture and nowadays with the internet they are inundated anyway.  Things still fall through the cracks.  It's not like you see water fountains on Yahoo homepage, or silly bands for that matter.  Luckily, before we left for the States, the Ambassador's 10-year-old nephew was in town for a visit and swimming at the embassy pool.  He had brought bags of silly bands, something we had never even heard of, to pass out to the clueless American kids.  "These are really popular back home," he said, "You're going to want to wear some."  God bless you, boy.  You saved me from a potential I- looked-like-a-dork-and-it's-all-your-fault-Mom bashing.

I'm sure you've got stories about your kids' culture clash.  Come on, tell us.  They're funny.  We all need a chuckle.  Beam me up, Scottie.

Supplementing Local Education with US School Standards

When we decided to enroll our children in a local preschool, I made the commitment to keep them up to date on their  English language knowledge and other US school standards.  I came across an excellent book, Home Learning Year by Year, by Rebecca Rupp.

Rupp's book is full of valuable information for anyone teaching their child at home or simply supplementing their children's school education.   The book presents a "structured plan to ensure that your children will learn what they need to know when they need to know it, from preschool through high school."  It includes websites for US state educational standards, lesson plans, and prepared home school curriculums and programs.  She also includes a list of age-appropriate books to accompany any learning experience.  The book is organized in a clear easy to read fashion, organized grade by grade.  

Before each school year, I read through the appropriate chapter making a mental checklist of what my children will need to be exposed to throughout the year.  At the end of the school year, I again read through the chapter and make sure my children learned the material.   More often than not, the materials have been integrated unconsciously in our day-to-day lives or taught at the local school.  The extra effort involved is minimal.  The peace of mind that our children will be adequately educated is invaluable.  

Cheap International Calls: Staying Connected

Okay, now that you've finally settled into your new home, here's the next big challenge:  staying connected with the folks back home.  I don't know about you, but the biggest complaint I get from family and friends in my home country is, "You are so far away!"  Back when we first joined the Foreign Service, when the internet was in its toddler years, international calls by landline were both intimidating and expensive.  Cheap international calls was a misnomer.  Facebook wasn't even around.  Email was the sure-fire way to communicate internationally, but my parents, at the time, were far from technologically capable- me too for that matter!  Boy, have we come a long way!  Nowadays, you can make cheap international calls through your computer, cell/smart phone, or landline, and free international calls on  your computer if you don't mind video conferencing.

Oldies, but Goodies

The two oldest and maybe easiest ways to make cheap international calls are through Skype and Vonage.  They are old-school and even though they are cheap compared to traditional ways to call internationally, they are the most expensive compared to the new competition out there.  Believe or not, this is the first country that we have used the computer for cheap international calls.  When I say we are technologically impaired, I mean it!  We had used Skype video conferencing, but then you had to make sure that the people at home had Skype and could navigate through the conferencing, not always a sure thing.  Plus, sometimes I just want to be heard and not seen!

Skype: cheaper, but computer-tied
So, before we came to Belgrade, I set up a Skype phone call account for these cheap international calls.  Through Skype, you get to choose a permanent phone number from where you want to call.  For example, if you want to call the U.S. you get a U.S. phone number.  Therefore, it's a "national" call.  Then, through your computer, you can call anywhere you want with the charges being for a national or local call.  I used Skype because I knew Skype.  New technological stuff makes me break into a cold sweat (Yes, blogging is forcing me to face my fears).  Skype was cheaper than Vonage.  I'm a sucker for bargains.  Also, you don't need anything other than a computer and internet access for your cheap international calls, no extra "box" or new phone.  You can call right away, the same day, the same hour as set-up even.

The only problem is that with Skype cheap international calls you are tied to your computer, like the old-time corded landline.  You can't walk around.  Albeit, you can check your email, but you can't answer the doorbell.  You sometimes get a lag time during conversation and sometimes an alien enters the body of your loved one and speaks for them.  On the other hand, my folks get a U.S. number to call me from their landline or cell phone.  No country code and foreign operator chatting to you in a language you don't understand.  Oh!  Another cool thing about Skype is that you can use it anywhere you have internet.  Say you are on vacation in Finland and your mom wants to call you.  Ring, ring!  There you have them, cheap international calls made easy.

Vonage: clearer, but boxed-in
Some of my friends use Vonage, the grandmother of cheap international phone calls.  I've never used Vonage; I've only been on the receiving end.  The thing I can say about the calls is that they are nice and clear.  I've never noticed a lag time or the alien invasion.  The thing about Vonage is that you need a Vonage Box; they send it to you in the mail.  This could be a problem if you don't have APO or Diplomatic Pouch or if you want to make a phone call right NOW.  Also, the phone plans are more expensive.  You pay for the alien-blocker and the ability to water your grass while you're on the phone.  Unless you take your box and computer with you on vacation, though, you're stuck at home and the, what, 500 ft circumference surrounding your phone.  So, here you have cheap international calls that sound like you're around the corner even if you're at home in Moscow in a bubble bath.

Newbies: cheap, but maybe complicated
Nowadays, there are tons of competitors to our old friends Skype and Vonage.  Rebtel and Evaphone came up on my Google search for cheap international calls.  They seem a bit more complicated to me, the technophobe (which means they probably aren't complicated for people other than my mom and I).  It seems like the person on the other end of your phone line has to sign up to the program too (which isn't the case with Skype and Vonage), but I'm not sure.  Also, you have to assign your contacts a new number and save that number with their name, and extra step that I'm sure I'd screw up.  They are considerably cheaper, though, so the Cheapo in me is viciously poking the Technophobe.  MoneySavingExpert.com outlines a ton of these programs for cheap international calls.  The Expert gives the pros and cons of several programs, including the quality of the call and the price.   You might want to refer to him, if you like to check out your line of options.

If you've found a program you like, please comment below and share your wisdom with the rest of us.

Now, call your mother.

But, wait, don't forget the time difference.  If only they could invent something to circumnavigate that.  H.G. Wells, we need you now.

Moving Checklist: Unpacking. SCRATCH IT OFF!

The truck is coming.  Hooray!  You are finally going to get your STUFF!  Crap.  Now the unpacking begins.  Yuck.  
Look on the bright side:  You get to scratch off the last thing on your moving checklist.

Pre-unpacking advice:

1.  Have a simple dinner planned ahead of time.  If they deliver pizza or any kind of food in your new town, great.  Otherwise, keep it simple.  Sandwiches.  Something you can eat without dishes or a table for that matter.  Remember, it's going to be covered with your unpacking stuff.

2.  Plan to buy the movers lunch.  Pizza, again, seems to be a universal go-to.  Any kind of fast local food, though, will do.  Oh, and don't forget a couple liters of coke.  It's a treat.  Lunch provided oozes goodwill.  After hauling in your 141 boxes and your sofa bed upstairs into the playroom, you need all of the goodwill you can get for the long afternoon.

Unpacking advice:

1.  Let the movers unpack (if you are lucky enough to have them).  If you aren't comfortable with that, then at least let them unpack the kitchen and dining room boxes.  These boxes have the most packing material and are the most tedious to unpack.  Also, plates and platters stack easily in the room where they are supposed to go.  After unpacking, the movers will take the empty boxes with them and the extra packing material and you won't have to deal with that clutter.  Also, seeing the items in your face forces you to deal with them and boxes won't remain in the garage for months. TWO moving checklist scratch off bonuses!

2.  Let the kids "unpack."  Find the boxes with the toys.  Move it to the designated play area.  Let the kids unpack.  It's Christmas in September!  They will be out of your way for hours, rediscovering their "new" toys.  You can deal with the mess later.

3.  Use unpacking to declutter!  Score!  Two in one!  I, of course, always plan to declutter BEFORE we pack.  But, (there's always a "but"), in the past packing lined up with newborns, sleep deprivation, and general baby chaos.  Now pack-out generally corresponds with the end of the school year, goodbye parties and that general chaos.  Whatever the reason, there is always chaos.
Soooo, out of your now empty dining room and kitchen boxes, choose two and write, "DONATE" on one box and "TRASH" on the other.  As you are unpacking your stuff, move the consequences of chaos into one of these two boxes and then the stuff you really do want, put away.  When the boxes get full, move them to either the dumpster or your car (if you have one- if not, arrange to move them on tomorrow).  In the last place we lived, we just set the boxes outside our front gate.  Gone.  Here, we can drive over to a needy neighborhood and the folks help us unload the car.  Find out what the easiest way to help folks out in your new place and do it!  Yeah!  Unpack, feel good, and declutter.  It doesn't get much better than that!

4.  Plan a BIG party a week from now!  I now this sounds insane.  I wouldn't suggest it unless I'd been forced to do it and saw, by goodness, how wonderful it turned out to be.  It forced us to unpack all of the living space and actually hang the pictures on the walls.  It made the house feel like ours right away.  Granted you had to wade through the bedrooms, but seeing the downstairs like it was supposed to be, motivated all of us to finish the rest of the house, picture hanging and all in two to three weeks.  Now that's something to cheer about!

5.  Burn your moving checklist.  Doesn't that feel good?  Sit back and enjoy the warmth.  You are home.

From Exhaustion to Acceptance to Giddiness: The Three Stages of Life in the Foreign Service

To be honest, there are many days that I think I can no longer do this, this nomadic Foreign Service life.  Life is hard enough without adding more complications to it, like flying for days to reach home, moving every few years, packing up your stuff, changing your house, your kids' school, your time zone, losing your mind.  And it's not just moving, but moving to different countries with different languages and different customs and different everything.  Not just moving, but moving far, far away from family and friends.  Far enough away that many feel they cannot visit you, that you have abandoned them, that you no longer fit into their lives since yours is so different, they just can't relate.  Who can relate unless you've lived it too?  And those who have lived it too flit in and out of your life because, well, they're moving too.

This feeling comes most often after an exhausting "vacation" back to my home country.  Living in someone else's home, eating meals with countless numbers of people, having no space to call your own for weeks on end, the days of packing and preparation, the sleep deprivation of transatlantic flying, the hours of stressful travel in and out of airports and airplanes, the dragging of exhausted children from gate to gate, the waiting in lines, for check-in, security, food, boarding, for seat exchanges, for take-off, for weather delays, for gates, for baggage.  The jet-lag.  The culture shock.  The exhaustion.  

That's when I break.  

You know, I say about life in the Foreign Service, "Everyday is an adventure."  It's an exciting, motivating prospect.  The reality, though, is that adventuring is tiring.  I just think of my 12 years being  part of Foreign Service life, that's about 4380 days of adventure.  That's a long time.  That's exhausting.  I'm just plum tired so much of the time.  A compatriot of ours, Kathy Heinrich, who has moved 13 times in more than 16 years, hit the nail on the head when she said during her most recent move, "I'm a transient who feels like an itinerant. . . . just when I think I'm veteran status, I find out once again, that each move is unique and challenging in ways that test my confidence!"  I hear you, Kathy! 

It's now been long enough that my native country is foreign.  I have trouble navigating the technological advances that have taken place in America over the last few years.  For example, I distinctly remember the first time I signed a computer screen at check-out in Target in 2006.  I had no idea what I was supposed to do.  The cashier looked at me as though I was from outer space.  Most days I feel that way.  Most days that's okay.

It's just when I'm tired that it's not okay.

So, what do I do?  I don't have a successful antidote yet.  I've tried several different tactics over my years living the Foreign Service life, from immediately trying to return to my normal routine, to walking around in my pjs all day.  The key seems to be sleep.  At least it is for me.  Like 9-10 hours a night upon return.  Try doing that when  you have babies.  Boy, were those arrivals a mess for me.  Now that my kids are older and they can get up and occupy themselves in the morning, if by chance, they wake up before I do, the transition time of exhausted-sobbing, "I can't do this anymore," to matter-of-fact, "Okay, Steph, this is your life, now get back to it," to giddy, "OOO, where are we going next?" takes less and less time.  I reached the matter-of-fact stage after I was back home for 6 days this time.  I haven't reached the "giddy" stage yet.  It'll come.  I like to believe that life for most folks in the world is in the "matter-of-fact" stage.  I feel fortunate to be here.  This is my life, my Foreign Service life.  I can't imagine it any other way.

Unusual Friends: Don't Let a War Get in Your Way

If a U.S. soldier shot down during the Balkan War can make friends with the Yugoslav Captain who shot him down, just imagine what you can do.

Dale Zelko, a US F117A stealth pilot, and Zoltan Dani, the Yugoslav missile colonel who shot him down during the Balkan War, met and became friends a couple years ago.  Their families have also met and a friendship has begun.

Optimistic Film is creating a documentary, The Second Meeting, about their reunion, which includes video journals by the two soldiers and live filming of their meetings.  In a review by The Wild Rooster, an international journalist's blog about the Balkans, the author states that, "Serbian documentary maker Željko Mirković has produced a film that is grounded in a message of reconciliation."

When it all comes down to it, folks, we are all just human, trying to support our families and doing the best we can.  Get out their, Spouses.  It's amazing what any gesture of respect and reconciliation can do for world peace.  Seriously.  We are diplomats too, believe it or not.  I became a true believer of that during our first tour in Mexico when our neighbor, during her tortilla-making demonstration, smiled and said to me, "I didn't know Americans could be so nice," then frowned and said, "But you sure don't know how to cook."  

I know "world peace" sounds a bit, well, lofty, but I really believe our friendships have a ripple effect.  For example, from experience, I know Balkan and Latino neighbors talk.  I mean, you can't do anything without someone in the neighborhood noticing (I love that.  "It takes a village . . ." ).  So, the action doesn't have to be grand.  I'm talking about a smile, a "hello" and "thank you" in the host country language, and an effort to be a part of their world.  That might mean going to the local market and visiting the same vendors every week (see 6 Ways to Feel at Home in Your New Home), teaching someone to speak your native tongue, or volunteering at a local charitable organization.  Reach out.  It makes a difference.  Don't let a war, or fear, or excuses, get in your way.  Dale and Zoltan didn't.  Your effort will reap peace.  What else can I say?

Ulysses and I: A Match Made in Heaven?

Who would ever guess that Ulysses and I are soul mates?  This one goes out to my soul sisters and brothers who love what we do.  

Ulysses

Alfred Lord Tennyson

It little profits that an idle king,
By this still hearth, among these barren crags,
Matched with an aged wife, I mete and dole
Unequal laws unto a savage race,
That hoard, and sleep, and feed, and know not me.

I cannot rest from travel: I will drink
Life to the lees: all times I have enjoyed
Greatly, have suffered greatly, both with those
That loved me, and alone; on shore, and when
Through scudding drifts the rainy Hyades
Vext the dim sea: I am become a name;
For always roaming with a hungry heart
Much have I seen and known; cities of men
And manners, climates, councils, governments,
Myself not least, but honoured of them all;
And drunk delight of battle with my peers;
Far on the ringing plains of windy Troy.
I am part of all that I have met;
Yet all experience is an arch wherethrough
Gleams that untravelled world, whose margin fades
For ever and for ever when I move.
How dull it is to pause, to make an end,
To rust unburnished, not to shine in use!
As though to breath were life. Life piled on life
Were all to little, and of one to me
Little remains: but every hour is saved
From that eternal silence, something more,
A bringer of new things; and vile it were
For some three suns to store and hoard myself,
And this gray spirit yearning in desire
To follow knowledge like a sinking star,
Beyond the utmost bound of human thought.

This is my son, mine own Telemachus,
To whom I leave the scepter and the isle
Well-loved of me, discerning to fulfill
This labour, by slow prudence to make mild
A rugged people, and through soft degrees
Subdue them to the useful and the good.
Most blameless is he, centered in the sphere
Of common duties, decent not to fail
In offices of tenderness, and pay
Meet adoration to my household gods,
When I am gone. He works his work, I mine.

There lies the port; the vessel puffs her sail:
There gloom the dark broad seas. My mariners,
Souls that have toiled, and wrought, and thought with me
That ever with a frolic welcome took
The thunder and the sunshine, and opposed
Free hearts, free foreheads you and I are old;
Old age had yet his honour and his toil;
Death closes all: but something ere the end,
Some work of noble note, may yet be done,
Not unbecoming men that strove with Gods.
The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks:
The long day wanes: the slow moon climbs: the deep
Moans round with many voices. Come, my friends,
'Tis not too late to seek a newer world.
Push off, and sitting well in order smite
The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds
To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths
Of all the western stars, until I die.
It may be that the gulfs will wash us down:
It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles,
And see the great Achilles, whom we knew.
Though much is taken, much abides; and though
We are not now that strength which in the old days
Moved earth and heaven; that which we are, we are,
One equal-temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.

Temporary Housing: How to Live a Year Without Your Stuff

For many of us, brief sojourns in temporary housing are inevitable, for training, fundraising, or health reasons.  We live for months without our stuff, living in generic extended-stay housing, with relatives, or in barebones rentals.  Most of us like our stuff.  It makes a house your home, even temporary housing.  Living without it can feel like living in a hotel room or a place where you don’t really belong.  In the last 12 years, I have lived too many times to count with relatives for up to 6 weeks during home leave.  I have also lived 3 times for 11-month periods on 700 lbs of stuff.  Pots and pans, dishes, clothes, toys, and bedding unbelievably fill that quota.  There is no room for, say, my 3 x 2 ft Guatemalan painting of a rainbow-clad senora, nor for, um, beds, dressers, tables and chairs.  Whether you choose the Oakwood, relatives, or a rental, here are a few ideas to making your temporary housing feel more like home.

1.  Live like a college student again.  Goodwill, Craig’s List, Ikea, and garage sales are great inexpensive ways to furnish your temporary housing and get the kids some “new” toys.  The last time we lived in the States for an 11-month training I bought our sturdy kitchen table and chairs at Goodwill for $65.  Granted, it was black vinyl and veneer.  Tablecloths do wonders.  Oh, and don’t be shy about stopping to pick up “free” stuff people set out by the curb.  That’s how I got a bookshelf and a TV console.  It’s 11 months, folks.  We’re not aiming for a feature in Martha Stewart’s, Living Magazine. 

2.  Don’t, don’t ship books.  They are heavy.  Plus, finding space is an issue.  If you’re in the U.S., discover your public library.  There is one in your neighborhood.  Second-hand stores are a wonderful place to find books.  Then you can donate them when you leave.

3.  Decal stick-on wall decorations.  They turn a kid’s room into, well, a kid’s room.  They also come off walls clean as a whistle and can sometimes be saved for the next new room.   Upromise (see my post, Why not get paid to shop online?) lists several shops where you can purchase them.  Search for "kids decals for bedroom walls."    

4.  Cloth tapestries decorate bare walls.  Scarves, cool fabric, or tapestries make good, light wall decorations.  Use no-stick adhesive wall thingies to hang them.  You can pack them in your suitcase and make home feel more like home while you wait for your shipment to arrive.

5.  Refrigerator magnets, photos, and kid art.  I don't know about you, but when my refrigerator is covered with photos of family and friends and kids' art, the temporary housing feels like home.  Pack them in your suitcase and throw them up right away.

6.  Embrace the uncluttered life.  Check out, Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff and It's All Small Stuff, by Richard Carlson, for some great ideas on how to live with less stuff.  It's amazing how little you need.  Your temporary housing stay can inspire you to get rid of some of that stuff when you finally do get it back.  I'm keeping my painting, though.  It's not clutter if you love it.  

Our motto is "home is where you unpack your suitcase."  Spouses, what are some ways you make temporary housing more homey?  Love for you to leave your ideas.

Moving: 6 Ways to Feel at Home in Your New Home

Okay, you've moved.  Your voice echoes off the empty walls of your new home and you are engulfed in a sea of boxes.  It's possible you feel a bit lost.  Here are a few tips to help you feel more connected to the ground upon which you stand.  It's no longer moving.  Hard to believe.  It kinda feels like when you step off a boat and you still feel the undulation of the waves.  Anchor down.  You'll be here for a while.

1.  Learn the language, or at least the words, "hello," "goodbye," "please," "thank you," "What is your name?" and, "My name is . . ." See Jennifer's Language Page for a plethora of words and phrases in about every language.

2.  With your new language skills (even chest pounding and pointing, "Me, Jane. You?" works surprisingly well) introduce yourself to a local neighbor by bringing some kind of tasty treat from your country.  Food requires little language skills and even if you can only get their names, you will be able to greet someone in your neighborhood.


3.  Introduce yourself to your baker, butcher, the carrot guy at the green market.  This helps you go somewhere where, "somebody knows your name."  Come on, sing a long with me now and click here for the Cheers theme song!

4.  Take a break with the language stuff and register with your local embassy.  Request to be added to their newsletter email list.  Ask if they have a cultural center associated with the embassy (Americans, google the "American Corners" in your country), go there and get involved with locals that speak your language!

5.  Learn a little about the government of your host country, the president's name, what sort of government system they have, or when elections will occur.  Wikipedia is a pretty good source.  This makes you feel knowledgeable about where you live, a little less lost and a little more involved.

6.  From Wikipedia, learn the different holidays in your new country.  Read about them and mark them on your calendar.  Why not celebrate them too?  Yahoo!  More holidays!

Ahoy, their mate!  Land ahead!  Spouses, share with us how you get acclimated to your new land.

The List and the Crystal Ball: the best thing about moving

The List has come out.  For those of us in the Foreign Service, you know what I'm talking about.  There is no other List.  For those of you not in the Service, the list is a compilation of job openings around the world that Foreign Service employees bid on for their next post.  The List contains our future.  The List is like a crystal ball.

The List transports me back to my childhood, sitting in my Florida bougainvillea cave diving into the pages of National Geographic, dreaming of jungle treks and peering down from the Eiffel tower.  Do you remember the ring-necked women of Thailand?  The chimpanzee hugging Jane Goodall?  The gold-encrusted King Tut's tomb?  I traveled all over the world from my blanket beneath those rose-colored vines.

I'm one of those rare creatures, a native Floridian, a 4th generation Bradentonian, Floridian to be exact.  I grew up in the old South.  As a 9-year-old wearing white gloves to cotillion, I bowed to pretend dignitaries and learned how to waltz.  As a young bride, I attended tea parties in my honor and had a trousseau.  Really.  Although I loved climbing orange trees and floating in the Gulf of Mexico, something pulled me beyond the Sunshine State.  As I devoured every National Geographic magazine that landed at our house, I knew I wanted to be "there."

The List takes me "there."  A decade ago, before the omni-present internet, my husband and I thumbed through our pocket atlas, the corners chewed by our dog, Oxford (yes, as in Oxford University, where my husband and I met (collective, "ah," now)).  I remember thinking, "Where in the heck are Ljubliana, N'Djamena, and Tbilisi?  And how exactly did you say them?"  I remember drifting through the pages of my atlas, running my finger over the map, and then sailing back to those pages of National Geographic and imagining myself there.  I've now been to Ljubliana and know how to wrap my tongue around that consonant-imbibed word.  N'Djamena and Tbilisi just might be in our future- only The List knows . . .

To this day, The List helps me feel my American worldly  ignorance as it shows posts by their capital cities, rather than the countries.  Not that I would know where  Eritrea, Guyana, or Malawi are either.  It sometimes makes me feel doubly stupid.  It also sends me to the computer, googling these enticing enigmas, dousing me in color, in wonder, in awe.  It carries me to the desert, the glaciers, and metropolises.  Eventually, it lands me in my new home.  Then I'm living it.  I'm living in the pages of National Geographic.

I love the journey through The List.  Now if only it could transport me passed the packing, the saying goodbye, and the airplane flights, and plop me into my new adventure, as easily as turning the page of my magazine.

When do you break the news to the kids? Some tips and our favorite book and video for kids who are moving

I find that it helps for kids to process the move when they see others that have been in similar situations in books and videos, but I highly suggest keeping the moving conversation really general ("Yep, we'll move on to another adventure in a little while,") until you get closer to the actual move date.  Remember, to a 3-year-old, a month is a REALLY long time.  We made the mistake of telling our young son 3 weeks out and every day for 21 days he would ask, "Are we moving today?"  Time is not a concept that toddlers can grasp.  A week, maybe two before pack-out, are totally enough for those under 4.  Having a calendar where they can mark off days helps them understand how much time is left.

Before, during and after the move is a good time to read books and watch videos on the subject.  Our favorite book is, The Berenstain Bears Moving Day.  The bears are moving from their forest cave in the mountains to their famous treehouse.  It teaches kids how to say goodbye to good friends and to meet new ones.  I especially like the scene when Brother Bear goes to sleep in his bed for the last time amid boxes piled up around the room.  I can totally smell the cardboard!

Little Bill's, Same Moon, Same Sun, Same Stars, is by far the best video about the subject that we've found.  Oh gosh, it makes me cry every time I watch it.  But don't let that turn you off!  It's a great clip about a neighbor of Little Bill's who is moving and how he doesn't want her to go.  She sings to him that they will forever be linked by just looking up at the sky, because no matter where you are in the world, you and your friends are still sharing the same sky together.  Sniff, sniff.

If you are interested in these items, there is a link to them in the sidebar to the right.

Spouses, what other books, videos or songs have you found that speak to our moving kids?  Please leave suggestions below!

Thank you! Gracias! Hvala! Khawp khun! благодарам! Merci! for Jennifer's Language Blog!

It's amazing what "Thank you" can do in the local language.  We yearn for it in our everyday lives and feel gratified when we hear it.  Over and over again, we teach our children to say it. It may be the two most important words in the English language.  It is no different in the rest of the world.  When you say, "Thank you," in the local language it can mean so many things: "Thank you for your patience (when you pantomimed a bee to find honey), for your honesty (as they count out the foreign change in your hand), for your help (when a fellow patron translates for you), or for your welcoming smile.

Jennifer's Language Page shows you how to say, "thank you" in over 2,000 languages!  It also includes "please," greetings, and how to ask a person's name, the phrases that open the door to a relationship ripe with opportunities to learn about each other's countries.  Write the phrases on an index card and keep it in your pocket when you venture into the city.  Don't be shy to pull it out and read the phrases.  Believe me, your efforts will be appreciated!  You don't want to be seen as the, "Ugly American," slowly and loudly enunciating each English word, cramming them down a local's ear.  Even though many people around the world do speak English, saying even a few words in the local language will enrich your sojourn and take you places you never dreamed you could go.

Click here to go to Jennifer's Language Page to learn how to say many phrases in pretty much every language!

Leaving town? Kids need closure too. 6 ideas to ease your move.

Six ideas to help ease your kids' transition out of town.

1. Hold your own goodbye party and invite the families of your kids' friends too.  Make it a potluck (I'm big on potluck- so much easier!) and outside (again, easier!).
2. Make a list of the 3 places you want to see again in your town before you leave and then see them!  You can change the number of places depending on the length of time you have before you go.  Take pictures and put them in the album in #3.
3. The last month/week you are in town go around and take pictures of your kids with their favorite people (friends, teachers, neighbors) and in the places they went the most (school, library, tennis class, soccer field, ballet).  Make a cheap photo album with them and let them decorate the cover. Let them bring the album in their suitcase or carry-on.
4. Use a shoe box or gift bag and let them fill it with "special things" from the place your leaving (flowers, peebles, bus tickets, things that won't fit in the album).  They can decorate the outside and bring it with them.
5. At the end-of-the-school-year party, let their friends draw and write goodbye pictures and messages on a t-shirt or large poster board to bring with you.
6. Always talk about your move in terms of an adventure!  Kids love adventures!  When you all start to bemoan all the places and people you are going to miss, acknowledge the difficulty with moving and commiserate, but then balance those sad thoughts with happy and exciting ones, all the places and new people you are going to see!  Do some research on the internet and find some cool places that you'll go to in your new town.  Talk them up!

Onward, nomads, onward! 

Spouses, any other ideas to smooth over the rough edges of "the move?"  Please share.

New to town? If you BBQ, they will come.

During the summer of 2011 we left Macedonia after a 3 year posting and moved back to the U.S. for 10 months of language training.  Gotta love those short-term hiccups.  What a pain.  My son was just about to enter the 2nd grade in a U.S. school for the first time and my daughter was entering a pre-K program.  They knew no one.  Interestingly, my best friend, who also happens to be in the Foreign Service, and I own townhouses in the same neighborhood in Alexandria.  She and her family were just leaving the U.S. after a year of language.  This always seems to happen to us- the longest overlap we have had was 2 weeks.  This time it was 4 days.

My son, like me, is an introvert.  Lucky us that we live a life that forces us to live outside of our comfort zone.  I no longer really know what exactly my comfort zone is anymore.  Sometimes I feel like it might be a cave in the jungle along the River Quai in Thailand.  Therefore, I was terrified for my son to enter a classroom of 19 kids and not know a single soul.  My daughter, on the other hand, will march into a room of hundreds and announce that she has arrived, as if, of course, everyone has been waiting for her.  Needless to say, I wasn't so nervous for her.  Luckily for my son, my friend has a daughter the same age as he.  While we were still in Macedonia, I asked her if she thought that any of the friends she and her family had made this year would come to a potluck back-to-school BBQ at the park across the street from our house.  My idea was to get my kids to meet some kids before school started so there would be some familiar faces in the sea of new ones at school.  My friend sent out an email to 5 families with kids the same age as ours and asked them about it and cc'd me.  We had a positive response from everyone we contacted, people who I had never met.  I emailed them back with the details.

A week before school started, 6 families with a total of close to 20 kids convened in our park.  While the grown-ups chatted and ate, the kids became knights and kung-fu princesses, playing like they had known each other all their lives.  It was a beautiful site for this fearful mom.

On the first day of school, several of the kids ran up to us as we entered the playground.  My son walked into his classroom with his new friends.  I too had some familiar smiling faces on the playground.  I am forever indebted to these families who eased our transition back to the States.  To you guys out there, "Thank you!"  You know who you are.

So, don't wait for someone to hold a welcome party for you.  Hold your own.  If you know one person in  your new town, ask them to contact 4-6 of their friends for a potluck BBQ or if you have kids, a back-to-school party.  Have it at a park if your lucky to have one close-by (easier prep and clean-up), if not have it at your house.  Make it a potluck; it's so much easier for those of you recovering from a recent move.

Make the first move in making new friends.  Sometimes, you have to make the second, third and fourth move too.  Don't give-up.  Don't get discouraged.  It isn't you.  People are busy.  Life is busy.  If you can create enough shared moments with someone, you'll start to have a common ground.  That's not easy to do when your ground continually moves, but it isn't impossible.  Take it slowly and enjoy the ride.

Spouses, what are some of your get-to-know-you tricks of the trade?  Please share them.  We need all the help we can get.

goodbyes have begun

moving trucks start filling our neighborhood tomorrow.  goodbyes have begun.  i'm the mushy one, swallowing my tears even though the actual words won't be said for 10 more days.  and i'm staying.  staying, though, has its disadvantages too.  the constant reminders of old friends that have moved on continually pop-up.  i'm saying goodbye to my balkan confidant, my prijatelica.  who will i moan and groan with over a shot of rakija when she leaves?  who will walk with me arm and arm in the open market?  i've known her now for 5 years and 4 of them we lived in the same country, the same city even!  it's like a bit of your heart gets chipped away with every goodbye.  luckily a little bit is added when we say hello.  oh, i will miss you, mi amiga.  okay.  now i'm crying.

Spouses, do you have a special goodbye to someone?  Leave it here.

Click here to go to Jennifer's Language page to learn how to say many phrases in every language!

moving sucks.

oh my gosh.  i just ran into a friend who is leaving post in a month.  i feel bad, but all that keeps running through my mind is, "thank god, that's not me."  i get the shivers just thinking about it.  thank god thank god thank god.  i love what we do and all, but i hate, hate, hate moving.  i like arriving at new places.  i like exploring new countries.  i love the adventures. but moving just plan sucks.

i was thumbing through my journal from last year and found the page where i started the countdown (1 month and 4 days to be exact) until moving day.  and then the to-do list.  okay, see if this doesn't make you want to throw-up (not that i want to make you throw-up, just saying): "find TB test results, scan school docs, schedule painter, get info from dry cleaners about time for rugs and down comforter, schedule mammogram, schedule cleaning service, clean out drawers, goodwill run, change address, make father's day presents, mail, buy june and july b-day presents, buy consumables, take pics of car for sale, clean car first, . . ."  And that's not even half of it.  the list swarms inside your head.  and there is nothing to stop it.  nothing to make it easier.  no matter how many times you do it, moving sucks.

after the swarm has diminished and the moving truck drives away and i walk back inside to a house that once buzzed with activity and energy and now is empty with used up packing tape rolls strewn around the room, muddy boot prints on the hardwood floors,  and chia pet puffs of dog fur huddling in the corners, i am too exhausted and empty to cry.  my footsteps echo through the house, bounce off the blank walls.  it's not my house anymore.

crap.  what the hell am i doing?  i can't go there and i don't have to for another 3 years!  3 years!  i can't believe i'm going to live in the same house for 4 years.  i haven't done that since i left my childhood home to go off to college.  what will it feel like?  you know, i hate to say it, but one of the first things to cross my mind when we got the okay to extend our 3-year tour one more year was, "damn, it's going to be even harder to move."  i couldn't help it.  what does this inevitable instability do to a person?  especially a person who lived in the same house from the time she was born until she was 18.  i used to say good-bye to hotel rooms.  that's how attached i used to get to places where i slept (no, i no longer do that.  can you imagine?  i'd constantly be homesick if i hadn't gotten over that neurosis).  I've been moving every year to 3 years for the last 23 years.  my god.

okay, we can ponder that one for a while.

Spouses, do you have some moving advice?  Why are you keeping it to yourself?  Leave it here.