Ex-pat life: The in-betweeners

When I moved to London, I proudly proclaimed to anyone within earshot how happy I was to be American and how much I missed home. America, after all, runs through my veins. When talking about Michigan, I sounded like one of those annoying 'Pure Michigan' commercials I couldn't stand, oozing poetic statements about my homeland. Everything about my Michigan roots clung to me and I was determined to be a proud American up until my last breath. When my husband's friends joked to me that I was now British, everything 'American' about me became amplified to the highest degree. I wasn't going to assimilate, I would never be British, and I was determined to constantly look back at the life I left behind with pride, telling myself repeatedly that England could never compete with my Metro-Detroit upbringing.

It has been seven months since I unpacked my bags and settled into the house I am beginning - albeit, with the occasional reservation - to call a home. I have embraced trading my beloved Honda Civic for the tube and find myself beaming with joy when I can direct myself home without help. Where once I spent my time mourning the loss of my home and my friends, I began exploring museums, toasting my new life with new friends, crossing things to do and places to see off my list. My husband and I have begun renovating our house, a project that has been moving slowly, but surely, for the past five months. The empty shell this house once was is now becoming a place I can identify with, my books now placed on its shelves, photos in frames and favorite foods in the fridge. I have, in my own way, begun to put my roots down in a country that I have, at times, struggled to grasp.

My life is all about succumbing to new experiences, for better or worse. The sun is shining in London and my life seems to finally be settling down, but when I go to bed at night, no matter how happy I've felt, I struggle with one truth: I will always, for the rest of my life, be in-between.

When I moved here, I was in constant contact with loved ones back in the states. Now, I find it challenging to be in touch, even to the point of feeling guilty about being too busy (or even happy), knowing the heartache my departure has caused. I have begun to make friends here and when I finally feel like things are improving, I find myself broken up about missing nights out and special occasions back home. Worse, I often feel bad about admitting to the friends I've had for decades that I am making new friends that I occasionally identify with better, as most of them are fellow ex-pats trying to navigate the difficult course of moving across an ocean. The more I study British holidays and traditions, the more I question if I will ever be happy without Thanksgiving dinner, green beer on St. Patrick's Day and eating paczi after paczi on Fat Tuesday. The more I begin to refer to this place as home, the more it feels like a half-truth as I remember the house I grew up in and lived in until my late twenties. I know, with a heavy heart, that when I go to see my family in Michigan, I will miss London. When I am in London, I will wish I were in Michigan.

These facts may be easier to adjust to, but will never wither away completely. I will always be in-between Michigan and London, never truly belonging to one place or the other, never knowing fully where my home is. My identity was once finite, now I wonder where I stand. I know no matter how much I adapt, the feeling that I will never really belong in either place will linger...and that is the burden, the cost, of being an ex-pat. All I can do is try to be happy on the thin red line that I'm standing on. 

London for One: Surviving having 'too much' free time

When my husband told me he would have to spend ten days away in the states on business, I about fell down the stairs. I had more negative emotions running through me than the first time I saw a Miley Cyrus video.

I wanted, pleaded, almost begged to go with him. What would I do? Where would I go? Without a job or knowing many people, who would I spend my time with? After realizing the ticket would cost a fortune and I may have to snowshoe my way to my parents' from the airport in the worst weather Michigan had seen in years, we decided I'd sit this one out. It would give us the chance to pursue more European getaways instead, I told myself. And if I couldn't get by, I could see if the liquor store down the street offered a loyalty card. Atta girl.

Many of us ex-pat wives have husbands who are constantly working while we are not. I wasn't the first American girl in town left to her own devices and this would be the first of many times in the future that I'd have to fend for myself. I'd already gone through a phase of crying into a bags of M&Ms, crumpled tissues surrounding me. I decided it was time to continue this, 'Put your big girl panties on' movement I had started and start planning how I'd spend my time. And I survived, by the grace of empowering Beyonce songs and all that is right in the world.

Here is a list to help you get a grip and get out the door. Because putting real pants on in the morning is important, my friends.

1. There is no reason you can't be busy: Between charity shops to children's organizations to homeless shelters, there is a volunteer opportunity for you if you are looking. Does it take some time to get a position? Yes. Do you possibly have to interview? Of course. Is it fulfilling and worth it? Absolutely. Volunteering is one of the single best ways to meet people and feel like you're doing something useful with your time. After a few months of being home full-time, your house becomes the Twilight Zone - you gotta' get out. Charity shops are always looking for someone to help re-sell their gently used wares - so get searching!

2. Short on cash? You can do a lot for free: London is one of the most expensive cities in the world but it more than makes up for it with an ample array of attractions that won't cost a thing. You can go to the oldest museum in the world and marvel at the largest collection of Egyptian antiquities outside of Egypt at the British Museum, take a leisurely walk in one of the city's gorgeous parks (Regents Park and Hyde Park hold a special place in my heart), experience amazing collections of art (the Tate Modern, National Portrait Gallery, etc), take a seat and people watch in Trafalgar Square, walk through Borough Market and enjoy the free samples...the choices are endless.

3. Join a Meetup group: I never looked into Meetup.com before I moved to London, but at the urging of a family friend who saw me struggling to adjust, I created an account. Search for groups you'd like to be part of based on interest (ie Yoga, young professionals, west end shows, etc) and simply join the group. Is it intimidating to walk into your first meetup event knowing no one? Yes. But you're going to be alone if you don't go. The friends I have began to make I met through Meetup. I owe it, and a little bit of courage, to the fact that I am sane now.

4. Change your surroundings: If you're not interested in meeting new people, do make sure you gift yourself with a change of scenery. Take a book to your local coffee shop and read. Write your to-do lists for the week in a cafe. Just make sure to get out of your house. It'll do a world of good.

5. Plan your time: There will be a time where you are no longer so free to explore London. You may leave the city, end up having children or beginning a full-time job, so enjoy your free time now. Remember all those things you said you'd see and do in London when you knew you would move? Do some of those things. Go on a walk (www.walks.com) and learn about some of your favorite places. Buy tickets to the Tower of London and indulge your nerdy historical side. Hit the stores on Oxford Street. You're probably the envy of all your family and friends now that you've moved - take every opportunity you have here.

6. If all fails, take a class: So you want to learn how to make pasta? Check out Recipease by Jamie Oliver and book a course. Visit your local library and see what free classes they have. Google your nearest Zumba class. There are inexpensive, dynamic, challenging and fun classes of all kinds, near and far - before you write them off, do your research and discover your newest passion.

7. Make sure you've got your real life taken care of: Your partner being out of town or busy gives you a chance to take care of all the things you've left unfinished. Spend your free time filling out paperwork for your National Insurance number if you plan on working, registering with a good GP and dentist, becoming a member of your local library, track down an optician...we're always running behind. This is a great time to catch up.

8. Explore your OWN neighborhood: The best advice given to me was by a family friend who has moved more times than I can count. She told me that instead of exploring Central London, I should find out what's exciting, interesting and fun about the borough I live in. Spend some time getting acquainted with where you live.

9. Stop clinging to America: You've moved. It's time to learn about the country you live in. Catch a few British shows on TV, read up on holiday traditions or history, learn about the government or do your part as a contributing citizen and support your local pub (hey, everybody else is). You're living in London now - it's time to be a part of it.

10. Stick to a routine: Getting up late and spending the day in sweats on the sofa isn't going to help anybody. Make sure you establish a routine - it'll give you some purpose and a boost. Wake up, go for a run, get ready, have breakfast, read the paper...make sure you're not allowing yourself to spend hours on Netflix or on Facebook wishing you were home and reminiscing.

11. Cook!: Get online and learn things you probably didn't cook at home in the states. Bangers and mash. Yorkshire pudding. Sticky toffee pudding. Any freaking pudding. Hit your local shop and get going.

12. Stay positive: This journey, however long or short, will last a lifetime for you if you can't become positive. Fake it til you make it - there are some days where you have to put a smile on, even if it's raining for the 12th day in a row and you just can't hold it together.

Now go get 'em. And if all that fails, reach out: it's hard to move internationally. Talk to the people who give you support. Look for ex-pat groups online, on facebook or locally in your area. There are so many people who have been through what you're going through and they want to help, so don't be afraid to ask!

A man walks onto the train with...

I know, I know - I'm a suburban girl. We don't see a lot of crazy things where I'm from in Michigan. BUT - when we do, we make sure to capture those solid-gold moments with a photograph.

*This throwback photo was taken on my iPhone back in December at Wembley Park Station*
Behold...a man on the tube who brought a MASSIVE white parrot with him. It's London - you can't make this stuff up. Of course I was totally enthralled with this man and his bird but everybody (including the people sitting closest to him) didn't bat an eye. Welcome to the insanity of London.

Laughter (and vodka-sodas) are the best medicine

This weekend has been particularly stressful for me. In between receiving rejection letter after rejection letter (after applying for jobs that hundreds of other 'brilliant, capable and industrious' applicants have vied for, it's probably to be expected that I won't knock them all out of the park), struggling to get through yet another event with extended family that I know as well as Britney Spears knows neurosurgery, and being away from my husband for the first time since we have been married while he's in the states for over a week..it's been a challenge to not repeat my recent Friday night excursion of overdoing it on red wine and Pop Tarts. After a few weeks of feeling extremely positive and motivated, shit is really getting to me.

There are few cures for misery more effective for me than books. Not eloquent, enthralling books. Ridiculous books written by ridiculous authors that make you remember the agony of almost peeing your pants on the train from laughing too hard. Books you can empathize with because of their sheer honesty about mortifying family members, drunken nights out, exes, misfortunes of all kinds, growing up and trying to survive in a world where you feel like everyone else is crazy. Books that don't take themselves too seriously because everything else is so serious.

Here's a short list of books perfect for when you're on the verge of booking a one-way ticket back home and ending your ex-pat adventure...

Are you there Vodka? It's Me, Chelsea by Chelsea Handler

Mennonite in a Little Black Dress by Rhoda Janzen

Me Talk Pretty One Day by David Sedaris

How to be a Woman by Caitlin Moran

Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me? And Other Concerns by Mindy Kaling

Bossypants by Tina Fey

My Horizontal Life: A Collection of One-Night Stands by Chelsea Handler

Let's Pretend This Never Happened: (A Mostly True Memoir) by Jenny Lawson


Happy reading.

Gratitude is Everything

When my husband told me that he had planned for us to live our dream and go on safari and to the island of Zanzibar in Tanzania for our honeymoon, I thought I'd died and gone to one of those insane Oprah's 'Wildest Dreams Come True' episodes. For the months that followed, I diligently tried to pick out the most stylish gear (because mosquito nets and camouflage are the sexiest attire known to man), read up on the experiences we'd have and dreamt of a trip I'd only read about in worn-out copies of Conde Nast Traveler at the doctor's office.

We left for the trip of our dreams, totally unprepared for the monumental events that were to follow. Waking up in the middle of the night to the roar of lions (and being so terrified we didn't dare go back to bed). Going to the boma of a Maasai family, visiting their homes, looking at their handiwork and taking photographs of their beautiful children. Eating breakfast, made to order, in the middle of the bush. Elephants so close to our car it's a wonder I didn't reach out to touch them. Ice cold beers on the Serengeti plain as the sun set. Enough wildlife to put the Lion King to shame (sorry, James Earl Jones).

And meeting people who shared with us the most intimate details of their life and altered our perspective of what it means to understand the gifts given to you and what love, real love, truly is.

Towards the end of our trip, we were staying in a beautiful tented camp in the Serengeti where we planned to spend a few days. True to the nature of safari, although your experience is very private, you have the opportunity to engage with people you meet from around the world. Whether you're having coffee in the morning before your drive or decompressing from a day more colorful and mind-blowing than you can process with a few beers, you share a social tent with others and a conversation is bound to strike. We met couples on their honeymoons, families travelling through Africa and the most odd, yet, illuminating pair of the entire trip.

During dinner one night we spotted an older gentleman, likely in his seventies, and a young man in his twenties. We had assumed they were father and son. They struggled to make conversation while eating together before the older man retired to their tent to prepare for the adventures ahead. The young man stayed behind in the tent to have a few beers and read when we got to talking.

Contrary to our belief, the young man and the older man were not related. They were strangers. The young man, who was hardly 21, came to Africa by the invitation of an uncle who had invited him to climb Kilimanjaro with him. While on his climb, he met the older gentleman, who, by chance, happened to have a spot available, paid for in full, to join him on a luxury safari in the bush during the Great Migration. The trip would span across several camps and the older man didn't need anything in return - only companionship. The young man understood what had happened was sheer luck and accepted the offer. He could hardly believe what was happening - he would experience, without paying a cent, something that people across the world dream of and never achieve and his travelling companion was only too happy to share.

But the trip came with one condition.

The reason the weathered, elderly man came to Tanzania alone was a heartbreaking one. His wife's truest desire was to go on safari - it was all she ever wanted. They had planned the trip together, hoping one day to go but it wasn't fated - she died before they had the chance. So, he decided to spread her ashes across Tanzania, from Kilimanjaro to the never-ending bush, so that she too could be there. He had booked the trip with her best friend so they could share the moment together and reminisce about what a wonderful woman she was and grieve in eachother's company. In the end, his wife's best friend couldn't make it and he had an extra spot available on an emotional journey he didn't want to undertake alone. So he invited the charming, energetic young man he had met while on a group climb to Kilimanjaro, hoping to have someone beside him in his anguish.

From talking to the young man, it was clear that he was too immature to fathom the responsibility he had on his shoulders. He wasn't asked to come on the trip because the older man needed a drinking buddy and someone to pose in photos with - he needed someone, anyone, to be a part of something that he dreaded doing alone. His own grown children weren't suitable for the task and he was too fragile to complete what he had started when he organized the trip. We were stunned at the story and mentioned to the young man what an honor it must be to be in his shoes, how much support he must be offering to this stranger and what a unique and memorable experience he was a part of, but he didn't get it. He had no emotional investment and was too young to see the beauty of the situation he was in. He was devoid of the compassion and understanding of an adult. He was in it for the free ride.

Here we were, a newly married couple on the adventure of our lives listening to a heart-wrenching story that dimmed the glow on our honeymoon. It made us think, at the beginning of our marriage, of what the end of it would look like. We were deeply impacted by this man and the emotions he was drowning in. His story, as painful as it was, was a gift.

The older man and his new friend left the camp the next morning, off to continue to spread his late wife's ashes on the rest of the Serengeti. We said goodbye, knowing we'd never see eachother again but would think of them from time to time. We later left Tanzania with this lesson in mind:

The responsibility of understanding the gifts that are given to you is not one all can comprehend or bear. We are all given things in our lives, gifts and curses, that should leave their mark on us, but we are not always able - or mature enough - to see them for what they are.

We were given the gift of hearing this remarkable story. The young man was too blind to see the true gift he was given behind the trip in front of him. But we were both given something.

How to be a good wife and other bullshit concerns

While struggling with the never-ending list of ridiculous chores and tasks to do around the house, I came across this little gem. Websites (like Snopes) have failed to determine whether or not this article (said to be found in a home economics textbook) is genuine, but for the sake of shits and giggles, it's too good to pass up.

Behold a 1950's guide to being a good wife...

Have dinner ready. Plan ahead, even the night before, to have a delicious meal ready, on time for his return. This is a way of letting him know that you have been thinking about him and are concerned about his needs. Most men are hungry when they come home and the prospect of a good meal (especially his favorite dish) is part of the warm welcome needed.

While my darling husband IS hungry when he comes home, the warm welcome he usually gets is my white-hot frustration with getting everything in "ship-shape" for dinner. It is impossible to roll my eyes far back enough at the thought of dreaming up wholesome meals for his enjoyment when I have the phone ringing off the hook, a pile of ironing that could begin collecting dust any day now, a laundry hamper akin to Mary Poppin's carpet bag and a glass of wine I have yet to polish off.

Prepare yourself. Take 15 minutes to rest so you’ll be refreshed when he arrives. Touch up your make-up, put a ribbon in your hair and be fresh looking. He has just been with a lot of work weary people. Be a little gay and a little more interesting. His boring day may need a lift and one of your duties is to provide it.

Yesterday my husband came home to me wearing mens sweatpants and a t-shirt with paint on it. Enough said.

Clear away the clutter. Make one last trip through the main part of the house just before your husband arrives. Gather up schoolbooks, toys, papers etc and then run a dust cloth over the tables. Over the cooler months of the year you should prepare and light a fire for him to relax and unwind by. Your husband will feel he has reached a haven of rest and order, and it will give you a lift too. After all, catering for his comfort will provide you with immense personal satisfaction.

Clear away the 'clutter'? The most I can successfully do in a house as busy as ours is grab everybody's stuff and dump it on the stairs in hopes that they won't ignore it for the one-thousandth time. I do take pride in cleaning the lint trap, though. There's that immense personal satisfaction I've heard so much about.

Prepare the children. Take a few minutes to wash the children’s faces and hands (if they are small), comb their hair and, if necessary, change their clothes. They are little treasures and he would like to see them playing the part. Minimize all noise. At the time of his arrival, eliminate all noise of the washer, dryer, and vacuum. Try to encourage the children to be quiet.

 No kids yet. OhthankyouGod.

Be happy to see him. Greet him with a warm smile and show sincerity in your desire to please him. Listen to him. You may have a dozen important things to tell him, but the moment of his arrival is not the time. Let him talk first – remember, his topics of conversation are more important than yours.

Okay, this I can do. I'm happy to see him after having little-to-no adult or engaging conversation the entire day. Not sure if he gets a chance to talk first but after being together for four years and married for six months, he knows better than to dream.

Make the evening his. Never complain if he comes home late or goes out to dinner, or other places of entertainment without you. Instead, try to understand his world of strain and pressure and his very real need to be at home and relax.

Because this is the wildest dream of any industrious woman who used to work sixty hours a week and now spends her time staring at the clock hoping her husband will come home so her mind doesn't implode from sheer boredom. 

Your goal: try to make sure your home is a place of peace, order and tranquility where your husband can renew himself in body and spirit.

I make our home a place of pizza, Jack Daniel's and re-runs of An Idiot Abroad. I feel that's doing my duty.

Don’t greet him with complaints and problems. Don’t complain if he’s late home for dinner or even if he stays out all night. Count this as minor compared to what he might have gone through that day.

Stayed out all night? Is he Don Draper?

Make him comfortable. Have him lean back in a comfortable chair or have him lie down in the bedroom. Have a cool or warm drink ready for him. Arrange his pillow and offer to take off his shoes. Speak in a low, soothing and pleasant voice.

Offer to take off his shoes? By the time he gets home, I have destroyed the kitchen in vegetable peels, spilled sauces and countless rings of condensation from my 'soothing and pleasant' drink of the day. I am just trying to hold on for dear life by the time he strolls in at 7:30.

Don’t ask him questions about his actions or question his judgment or question his integrity. Remember, he is the master of the house and as such will always exercise his will with fairness and truthfulness. You have no right to question him.

Master of the house? Exercise his will? There's not even move for questioning? I'm not sure if this is an archaic approach to being a faithful servant to an angry God or tips to ensure marital bliss.

A good wife always knows her place.

(By the wine rack)

Joan Rivers: The guru of good advice?

I don't care much for Joan Rivers. She's filled with as much plastic as she is spite and she's relentlessly obnoxious, but one quote of hers has always struck a chord with me:
"Don't follow any advice, no matter how good, until you feel as deeply in your spirit as you think in your mind that the counsel is wise."

In the six months I've been married, there's nothing I've received more than advice. The ladies in my life (and random women in Tesco) have tips from everything from which ironing water to buy to which store has the best produce to how to keep your marriage a happy one. I am never short of advice on all subjects, whether or not it was sought after.

When I got married and left my family behind, I was welcomed by a new one. My husband's family was as different to mine as humanly possible and adjusting to their constant presence in my life was (and still is) a balancing act. When talking to loved ones and friends, I began to receive a myriad of advice on how to handle day-to-day situations, squabbles and challenging subjects.

Each piece of advice was more varied than the next. I was advised to focus on myself and be selfish or try to be a good daughter-in-law and find the ever-fabled 'happy medium'. But what would be the deciding factor in which words of wisdom I took to heart? Both sides of the coin appealed to me. I had left everything behind and crossed an ocean - why shouldn't I focus on my own happiness? On the other hand, I had the choice to make things easy or make things hard with my in-laws. I could try to be pleasant, compromise (sometimes while biting my tongue) and keep an open mind, or not.

I tossed and turned at night over the suggestions presented to me. I picked words apart while on the train or washing dishes. I re-played scenarios from my daily life in my head, wondering which method would have suited me best.

Then I realized I had forgotten one major thing. I didn't take a second look at the people giving me advice to determine if they were in the position to guide me at all.

The group of people who had advised me were split into roughly two categories. Half of them were miserable and had less than blissful relationships with their spouse's family and friends. The other half struggled from time to time but had a more positive outlook on life and had a better overall relationship with their in-laws. Both parties were strong, successful and open-minded in their regular lives but when it came to their approach with those who should be nearest and dearest, the former group stood their ground so strongly that with time, their actions lead to the destruction of any and all bonds created. They had unhappy family reunions, dreaded visits and holidays with their spouse's family and had such anger and resentment towards them that they didn't realize how cold they sounded. Though I cared for them, did I respect what they had to say and more importantly, what type of person they'd become? Did I want to be like them?

Once upon a time, those same women started off like me, totally new to the scenario presented to them with the choice to take their own path. They dealt with hardships but some arrived unscathed on the other side while others were embittered by the process. All of the women advising me had to look at the years past in their lives before offering me suggestions on how to move forward with mine, but only a handful genuinely wanted to guide me to have a better experience than they had. The words of warning they provided were offered freely so that I would save myself (and others) from heartache and regret.

Part of choosing which pieces of advice to take during the course of your life is deciding what kind of person you want to be. Before I got married, I was often frustratingly independent, stubborn and focused on the present, rather than able to have the clarity required to think of the future. Looking at the friends and family giving me advice, I saw flashes of who I was and who I wanted to be. Getting married and moving to another country requires you to change to roll with the punches and maybe at this point in my life, I decided, I should fine-tune my filter and tune out the noise and external influences I find at every turn.

There will be angry days, tears and low points, but I'd rather tell my strong and demanding side to take a seat while I soften my rough edges and learn to forgive and forget than travel in a direction that has transformed other relationships beyond the point of repair. Sometimes, the best thing you can do is cast aside the words of those you love and respect the most to see things with a fresh perspective...and listen to Joan Rivers.

Don't follow any advice, no matter how good, until you feel as deeply in your spirit as you think in your mind that the counsel is wise.

Joan Rivers

Read more at http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/keywords/advice.html#i3b47O455UM09fHt.99

Don't follow any advice, no matter how good, until you feel as deeply in your spirit as you think in your mind that the counsel is wise.

Joan Rivers

Read more at http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/keywords/advice.html#i3b47O455UM09fHt

Don't follow any advice, no matter how good, until you feel as deeply in your spirit as you think in your mind that the counsel is wise.

Joan Rivers

Read more at http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/keywords/advice.html#i3b47O455UM09fHt.99

Don't follow any advice, no matter how good, until you feel as deeply in your spirit as you think in your mind that the counsel is wise.

Joan Rivers

Read more at http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/keywords/advice.html#i3b47O455UM09fHt.99