Letter from Carola

Returning from Taiwan

Almost 30 years ago, in 1983, I was fortunate enough to live in Taiwan. I was half way through my program of Chinese Studies at the University of Tübingen in Germany and thought it was time to experience the Chinese world by myself.

In 1983, Taiwan was still closer to being a developing country than a developed one. It struggled for political recognition next to its “big brother”, the People’s Republic of China, or “mainland China” as it was called in Taiwan.

For a 23-year old German girl, who had been to many European countries, arrival in Taiwan was a culture shock. At the same time it was an exciting adventure. New impressions, misunderstandings, exotic food to taste, new sounds and scents, snakes, dirt, dust, heat and high humidity and the ever present awareness of being a foreigner – you stand out as a “long nose” among the Chinese.

So when I returned to Germany shortly before Christmas on the height of consumerism, I was eager to tell my stories, to share my experience – and to my utter surprise I had a hard time to find the right words.

What do you answer to “How was it?” Fascinating? Interesting? Horrible? Sometimes downright heartbreaking? Well, imagine doing your laundry on a wooden washboard in cold water. No washing machine. No refrigerator either, for that matter. Was there even a Chinese word for dishwasher at that time? Blank faces were the answer, sometimes un-derlined by an “Oh my God”. Other people – those who KNOW EVERYTHING BET-TER – explained to me that Taiwan was not the “real China” – that was the People’s Re-public of China. What do you say in the face of so much ignorance?

The hardest part to tell and find even a hint of understanding in a country with excellent healthcare for everybody, was talking about the sick people. I had spent a lot of time with people suffering from leprosy, enjoying their company, sharing their laughter, feeling touched by their honesty and generosity. Only once after my return did I meet someone who had spent a year in a developing country and asked the right question, “What left the biggest impression on you?” Answer: an orphanage next to a Catholic church. A big room full of cribs with babies and toddlers. It was so crowded that often two kids had to share a bed. All of them were physically or mentally disabled, left on the steps of the or-phanage. Unwanted children. It was heartbreaking. It still haunts me.

Upon returning to rich Germany, it was hard for me to see the abundance here, especially when food was thrown away. Coming back to your own country can be a challenge. You are not the same person you were when you left. Your horizon has expanded; you were immersed in a different culture. You know that your country’s way of life is not the only one, and, far more important, not the only right one or superior one. Coming back to “my world” was almost as challenging as going away. The transition, however, didn’t take such a long time.

[Today's letter is from Carola, author of the blog carola bARTz. She is currently living the ex-pat life again, this time in California. You can see all "Letters to Kat" posts here.]

Letter from Gina

Why Can’t You Go Home Again?

"You can't go back home to your family, back home to your childhood ... back home to a young man's dreams of glory and of fame ... back home to places in the country, back home to the old forms and systems of things which once seemed everlasting but which are changing all the time — back home to the escapes of Time and Memory." Thomas Wolfe

Living in an unfamiliar place with different smells, tastes, and rhythms can be a jarring experience. Dislocated is a good term for what I was experiencing in my new environment --except I was in my hometown, feeling like a stranger. My family had just returned from a nine month stay in Barcelona, Spain, where our daughters attended public school and my husband did a research project at the University. We fell in love with Barcelona with all its beauty, culture, and bakeries.

I was unprepared for the reverse culture shock that I felt when we returned to our home in Sacramento. This was more than a post-travel funk. Things back at home were both bigger and smaller, brighter and duller. It was a little like being Alice in Wonderland, never knowing what to expect. I was missing the siestas and leisurely lunches with the whole family. Now our family life became more fragmented and hectic, as we moved back into our jobs and schools.

Friends welcomed us back, of course, but only a few seemed interested in hearing many details of our adventures in Spain. Just as we had changed and grown in our time away, our friends had too. We had to find new common ground. Some friendships withered away, others grew stronger. After a few stressful months, I gradually found my new groove – and a new me that included Barcelona as one of my homes.

Kat, I wish you an easy transition back to the U.S – your self awareness and maturity should make for a smooth re-entry!

[Today's letter is from Gina, author of the blog Here and Now. She now lives in Sacramento, California. You can see all "Letters to Kat" posts here.]

Letter from Marji

Photo by Rain City Girl

On Repatriating

I remember how I felt when I settled into my seat on the non-stop from Vancouver, BC to Beijing – utterly exhausted but at the same time totally exhilarated. My husband and I toasted each other with a glass of complimentary champagne – we were on to a new chapter. We were headed for our third overseas assignment, back to Asia for the second time. Our two dogs were safe in their crates in the cargo section of the plane and we were headed for a new adventure. We landed on my 40th birthday.

Living in Beijing was a remarkable experience. We were there during the SARS epidemic and the ramp up to the upcoming Olympics. The people, the lifestyle, the cultural differences and the language were my teachers for the two+ years we were there. We settled in, made friends, travelled and became comfortable… then opportunity rang. A call came to return home. It was time to return, to repatriate back to sleepy Spokane, WA.

I was sad. I didn’t want to leave. Life was fun, exciting and interesting. We had met wonderful friends from all over the world. It was sad to repatriate again. Leaving a life where every day was an adventure and returning to a sleepy town just didn’t seem appealing. I loved living the life where I felt special and each day held some new exciting experience for me. Travel to exotic places was at our fingertips, fabulous shopping at our doorstep and incredible foods on our table. What were we returning to? Back to what? Back to the same old place – the place we thought we were leaving forever.

When I was away, I had forgotten the great comfort of returning home. It was like slipping on that old pair of worn in shoes - the comfortable ones from the back of the closet – the pair I had not worn for a while. I knew my way around. I could understand the conversations around me. I could read the newspaper. I could be understood. There was so much that I took for granted. After returning from living overseas, once again, I gained a new appreciation for these simple things that make home comfortable. It’s easy to overlook these daily pleasures. Maybe life wasn’t as exciting and the smells, foods, people and culture were the same as they had been for my lifetime – but our old friends were closer, our families and things were familiar. Enjoy the familiar – its nice.

There are some lesser things to repatriating, too. It’s not easy for everyone. The shock of returning home doesn’t seem to hit until after the boxes are unpacked. A few months down the road you realize that life isn’t quite as exciting and special as it seemed when living the expat life. New friends don’t come as easily as they do in the expat circle. No one really cares or wants to hear about the adventures you had. They don’t really want to see photos nor hear your stories. It’s not that they don’t care about you – but they really can’t relate to your experiences. Your perspective is worldlier and you long for World news. You’ve been to places and experienced things that most people never have the opportunity to do in a lifetime. It’s hard to grasp that seeing the world and actually living in a different country really changes you – immensely and forever.

My advice – enjoy where you are now in life. Live in the moment and bloom where you are planted. Find the excitement and joy of what we take for granted each day. You will hold the memories of a special time in your life and carry them in your heart forever. The beautiful photographs and treasures you came home with will be the reminders of that enchanting chapter in your life.

I wish I had sage wisdom and a step by step guide to repatriation. For you, Kat, it will be easier because you are stepping back into your work. For your husband and your son, it may be different. For me, I loved China so much that I started an import business in order to keep my ties to a place I loved. I kept up my language classes so I would not forget what I had learned. To this day, I continue to keep in touch with my China friends. I have found ways to keep a tie to a place that I love for as long as I need. You will find that over time you will move forward and settle in comfortably, no matter where you are in the world. Where you have been will always hold a special place in your heart.

I always look at my life in terms of chapters in a book. Each one unfolds itself as I move through my life’s journey. For me, the end of one chapter and the start of another are exciting and joyful. They build upon each other and the story gets richer and deeper. I am always anxious to read on and find out what’s next. I hope you and your family feel this way too.

I wish you the best with settling in to your newest and most exciting chapter yet.

[Today's letter is from Marji, aka Rain City Girl on Flickr and the author of the blog Sun Breaks in the Forecast. She now lives in Seattle, WA. You can see all "Letters to Kat" posts here.]

Letter from Jamie

Watching Kat as she's been packing up and moving home, has brought back a slew of memories for me.  When Kat asked if I would share a bit of my experience as an expat and then returning home, it was the perfect excuse to organize some of the thoughts buzzing around in my head.  

A little background: I spent 2 years living and working in Rio de Janeiro, followed by 2 years in New Delhi. I was then able to eased my way home with a 10 month stop in Kentucky before making it all the way home to Salt Lake City late last year - but my stop at home is temporary.  I know I'm headed abroad again - I just don't know when or where yet.  It's a very good thing I actually enjoy a bit of ambiguity in my life! 

My move home brought a wide range of emotions:  joy at being closer to my family and loved ones, a sense of relief that I didn’t have to worry about language or cultural differences, melancholy at leaving behind new friends, and sadness at missing out on the daily adventures of life abroad.  But more than anything my move home taught me just how much living abroad had changed me.

Some are little changes.  When I read the news instead of looking at US news first, I now look at global news.  Before I left I was living in Seattle where I tended to dress in dark monotone colors, after my time in Brazil and especially India I find myself gravitating to brightly colored clothing and I haven’t bought anything made of fleece in years.   My views on immigration have softened, having been the person who went into another country to take a job and who struggled (and failed) to learn a new language; I’m much more sympathetic to what immigrants go through.  I also now have a network of friends around the world – which means the odds of finding a couch to sleep on when I travel is much greater.

Some changes are bigger and truly life changing.  I’ve always been fiercely independent and hated asking for help.  I quickly learned that I needed help to survive in these countries, and I learned to ask for and receive help graciously. The biggest change is my self confidence.  If I can move to a foreign country, where I don’t speak the language, in a new job for a new company on my own, with two weeks’ notice and not only survive, but thrive, I know I can do anything.  The power of that life lesson will never leave me.

My time back at home has also taught me a few things.  Life didn't stop for my friends and family while I was gone - they've grown and changed too - which means I've had to reset a few expectations.   The level of customer service in the US really can't be touched.  But most importantly, I've learned that my expanded capacity for daily challenges and growth opportunities must be fed.  I find that if I don't deliberately set goals to keep me moving forward I struggle emotionally.  

After time abroad, you adapt to living a life full of small daily challenges: picking something to eat off a menu you can't read, figuring out how to get hooked up to the internet, finding someone to cut your hair who speaks your language.  To suddenly have a life without those challenges left me feeling a bit lost.  The best solution I've found is to keep striving to learn new things and to find adventures that challenge me at home.

I'm sure Kat will love being home again, and she'll find many new adventures as she adapts back into life in Portland.  For those of you dreaming of life abroad - I say go for it.  Nothing in my life has been as challenging or rewarding as experiencing life in another culture.

[Today's letter is from Jamie, author of the blog Lyrical Journey. She now lives in Salt Lake City, Utah. You can see all "Letters to Kat" posts here.]

Letter from Amy + Favorites: Primarily Color

Primarily Color

Burano, Italy, 2010

In addition to posting some favorite images as I move from Italy to the US, I'm also posting some letters from friends. These friends are former ex-pats, who have lived abroad and moved home. I've asked them to write a "letter" to me, telling me about their experience returning home to give me an idea of what I'm headed for. I thought you might also like to hear the experience of returning ex-pats. Who knows, it just might help you relate if you ever have family or friends returning from living abroad.

This first letter is from Amy Peyton, a friend in Oregon. I first met her a few years ago through a mutual friend, as she returned from her most recent experience living abroad. I look forward to seeing her again, very soon!

_______________________

Home:  The World (but fairly happy for the time being in Forest Grove, Oregon)

Expat-dom: 4 years in Japan, 1 year in Romania, 1 year in France, 6 months each in Korea/Australia, 4 months in South Africa

Country Count: 44 (Top 3: Croatia, Slovenia, Japan)

Hey KatJ.  I’m not a blogger, but I’m a fairly talented rambler, so here goes.

Ugh, coming home.  Coming home from overseas bites.  It reminds me of the “Sludge Test” in high school when the H.S. chemistry teacher would give you this black, oily, hairy blob and then (through a series of tests you’ve studied all term), you would come up with all 17 ingredients (motor oil, bubble bath, sand, etc.) .  “Reverse culture shock” has all these hidden emotions that eventually burble up to the surface….

When I’ve come home from long sojourns overseas, I feel ___.  No, it’s not frustration.  It’s not hatred (although I have felt that a fair bit in the past).  It’s not exactly shame (but I have felt that, too).  It’s like someone made you swallow a bubble and that bubble is pumped up inside of you, right up under your skin.  And the littlest things just make you want to explode sometimes from the inside out: consumerism, materialism, indulgence, grandiosity (the SIZES of everything), superficiality, political ignorance, geographical stupidity (Australia versus Austria, among others), etc. etc.  When you mix all of this with homesickness, wistfulness, and desire to be “anywhere but here,” it’s pretty heady stuff.  At least it was for me.

One breakdown I had in particular was when I returned to the States from Japan.  My friend dropped me off at Safeway to grab some shampoo while he waited outside in the car.  After 20 or so minutes, I emerged, with nothing in hand, except tears and (probably) snot from a fairly colossal meltdown in the shampoo aisle.  SO many kinds, sizes, flavors, colors…do I have oily hair?Normal?Dry?Blended?Colored treated?Curly?Straight?Flyaway?Small bottle?Big bottle?With attached conditioning pack?Without attached conditioning pack?Hairmasque?Dandruffcontrol?  In my neighborhood store in Fukuoka, Japan, there were maybe 6-7 choices, none of which I could read anyway, so who cared?  In Romania, I bought whatever was *there*.   So, in this situation, the balloon was pumped up and all it took was a choice between PertorSuaveorHeadandShouldersorAussieorTresSemmeorPaulMitchellorInsfusiumorPantene orNexxusorVidalSassoonorWhiteRainorSt.IvesorVo5 to set it off.

It’s also a challenge to be one of the only people you know who travel.  People asked me all the time:  “So how was it?  Did you have fun?”  And my mouth would slightly hang open, and I would be thinking: “Ummm, yeah. I was in the middle of South Africa where nobody had apparently gotten the news that Mandela had been elected and the townships still had curfews and black taxis/white taxis.  *Yeah, I had fun*.”  It chokes you up when this magnanimous experience you’ve just had is whittled down to a couple of polite sentences to a disinterested few.  Your family and true friends will save you—the ones that really want to know how you drank tuica and played Uno with school principals and how the Japanese customs officials bowed and excused themselves out of the room when they discovered your trove of feminine products.  (Ha!!)  When you return home from overseas, those who really know and love you will envelope you like a blanketJ. 

And this especially includes Patrick and Brandon—what a gift to be able to give each other “reverse culture shock” therapy at a moment’s notice.  I did 99% of my traveling/living overseas by myself, so maybe these words are streaked with a bit more spit and fire than most people, who knows.

I did manage to find solace….  I talked with other expats, joined language conversation groups, and made new friends with people who had the same obsessions.  I planned my next overseas trip almost as soon as the plane skidded along the tarmac.  When I got homesick for Japan, I went to Uwajimaya and ate Udon, when I was homesick for Romania, I sang to my Romanian rock CDs and made ciorba while making care packages for those I left behind.  I kept busy with work.  I had purpose and a whole list of plans. 

So, there are my two cents.  Just get together with lots of friends and lean on your familyJ.

I’ll be thinking of you,

Amy