transition Archives - Page 4 of 4

Let it snow

While I lived in Vienna, I was always self conscious about my German. Even though it was relatively fluent and accent-free, I would never be mistaken for a local; as soon as I opened my mouth, everyone knew. I believed that, in order to get things done or to be taken seriously, either I had to ask for help from a “local” or switch to English. So that’s what I did for eleven years. I never felt that I could be myself in that language and that was a major component of my foreignness.

Then we moved to Zurich. Since I do not speak Swiss German (yet), the next best choice for communicating was “High” German – that same language I was self-conscious about. My Swiss interlocutors clearly speak it better than I do; strangely though, I don’t feel as self-conscious as I used to. High German is not the language everyone grows up speaking here, and for me, that evens the playing field. I have yet to feel the need to resort to English. Who would have thought?

There is also the weather. Having been raised in a Mediterranean country and moved to Austria from California, of all places, I have had a hard time adjusting to Central European winters – and that’s an understatement. Vienna had too much snow, too many days (and weeks) with sub-zero temperatures for my taste. When we moved to Zurich, I was expecting more of the same. No one told me that, during my first winter here, snow would be so much part of the daily landscape for weeks in a row, that waking up to a winter wonderland day after day would eventually have no impact on me whatsoever (part of me still hopes this winter is unusual, but probably it isn’t). Compared to Zurich, Vienna looks almost Mediterranean. Do I like that? Not one bit. What did I do about it? I decided to buy a bigger snow shovel for my driveway and a more sophisticated ice scraper for my windshield. Who would have thought?

And then there is the bigger picture. After growing up and spending a big part of my adult life in big cities, I was in for a shock when I moved to Vienna: it felt so small! It took me years to get used to that. And now, I moved to Zurich, which is even smaller than Vienna, without even blinking. Who would have thought?

Is all this proof that one can get used to almost anything? That everything is relative? Or could it be that, with every move, I am becoming more adaptable and more open, more skilled at doing “the foreigner thing;” that I consciously choose to see the big picture and let go of all the little and not-so-little things that have made me miserable in the past; that I’m becoming good at the “if you can’t change it, embrace it” sort of thing?

I have not overcome my snow aversion for sure, but I have learned to live with it. And I do enjoy speaking German without feeling self-conscious – even when I’m back in Vienna.

expat, family, transition February 1, 2013

New Kids on the Block

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When it comes to how children adjust after a major transition (such as a move), school is a major playing field. It is at the centre of their lives, not least because they spend the biggest part of their days there. School also is their main social habitat. It’s where most of their friends come from, at least in the beginning. What happens at school often “spills over” to the rest of their lives. If they feel comfortable and integrated in their new school, that usually helps them do the same in other areas; if they struggle there, it taints their whole experience (not to mention their parents’).

The first day of school for my two older children, or rather their first week, was one of the most stressful times of our move to Switzerland – for me. I was nervous for them. Would they like it? Would the other kids be nice to them? Would they fit in and be accepted? I was most worried about them feeling awkward and lonely.

I still have vivid memories of what going to a new school felt like – from my own moves. Even though I was very young at the time, I distinctly remember the feeling of being the new kid in class, the odd-one-out, all these – thankfully brief – moments in the beginning that I would happily have skipped. I would rather my children did not have to hang out by themselves during break; sit alone at lunch; not have a partner for those first group projects. I would rather they’d skipped those moments, even if they are a necessary part of adjustment; even if they are a rite of passage that will make them stronger and more resilient. Of course, there was absolutely nothing I could have done to spare them that. They had to manage on their own and they did a decent job, as far as I can tell.

But they have changed in the past few months. My older son has become much more independent and responsible, but also more irritable, short-tempered, stressed and, in his own words, lonelier than he was back in Vienna. My daughter, always bubbly and larger than life, has become more subdued. She spends much more time by herself than she used to. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she’s lost her
spunk.

Most of these changes are subtle. Sometimes they are able to express how they feel, sometimes I have to dig deep to get them to formulate what bothers them. I’m sure some of those changes have to do with them growing up, but isn’t it a strange coincidence that they should all happen now? And, more important, are they just transition pains or are they here to stay?

Were you ever the new kid at school? Did you like it or hate it? How did your kids cope with it?

expat, family, transition January 8, 2013

Where’s the “good” in goodbye?

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For my first post of 2013, I will steer clear of New-Year’s-resolution-talk (not least because I’m having a hard time with mine) or speculation about what the New Year will bring. One thing that it will predictably bring – like every year – is more goodbyes. Saying goodbye is a process I go through several times a year. I have become quite good at it, but still dread it every single time.

So once again, starting the New Year meant for me, among others, saying goodbye to my hometown, my country, (the sun? J), my family and my friends, old and new. Once more, I wished I didn’t have to go through the torturous procedure, almost invariably the same every time: the tightness in my chest as I leave home converting rapidly into a mild depression during the trip, then two to four days of inconsolable sadness, followed by a gradual healing process that may take one to two weeks, as the routines are re-established and I get so absorbed by the rhythm of my daily life, that it is as if I never left. Even though every time I know that I will be ok in the end – when all that’s left of the sadness is a bittersweet aftertaste of being permanently away from something and someone –I still go through it every time. I wish I didn’t have to, but I also know that is the deal I have made – I and all those others with similar life choices – to live within the cycle of perpetual goodbyes. I’m not complaining.

As I was reading some of last week’s New-Year’s-resolutions-press, something caught my attention. It was the suggestion that, rather than coming up with a list of random resolutions, it makes more sense to think about what matters to me most – who do I want to be, what makes me happy – and make sure I have or do more of that.

One resolution that is always somewhere on my list, ever since I can remember writing them down, is to make a bigger effort to stay in contact with family and friends. Some years I do better and others I do worse; but I keep at it year after year. It is part of who I am and it makes me truly happy.

I want more of that this year as well. More goodbyes, but also more hellos.