Expat Mums Blog

There is no queue in Hungarian

I have to admit it, I am a British person to the core of my being.  Living away from the UK for over a year has finally taught me this.  There are a lot of British cultural traits/ modes of behaviour that I can do without, queuing is not one of them.  I have always been a stickler for queue etiquette- waiting my turn even when the Kids were desperate for the loo and the sensible thing would have been to push in.  If someone pushed in front in a queue I would tut tut, mutter, or sometimes when I was feeling brave actually say something.  This is not something that I can do in Hungary.  For a start there is not a letter Q in Hungarian.  Some foreign words seem to have sneaked in here like "quick" but when they appear they are spelled with a "kv". 

US vs. UK Christmas

As our fair Josie at Sleep is for the Weak is taking a holiday sabatical from the Writing Workshop, we here at Cafe Bebe are struggling for inspiration.  I’ve gone to Josie for a personal prompt and it’s a good one!  Her advice, US vs UK Christmases?  Which one is better?  What’s different??  Are you ready for a bit of Christmas cheer??

Here is what my Christmases were like in the US…it should be noted that I DO NOT SPEAK FOR ALL AMERICANS!

• The official Christmas shopping season begins the day after Thanksgiving. Every shop in the land is open at 5 or 6am with “Door Buster” sales and all sorts of incentives to get silly shoppers out of the house at ridiculous o’clock. Thanksgiving is usually the 4th Thursday in November- this past year it was the 26th of November so “Black Friday” was 27 November.

Fresh off the boat

He walked up behind me at the bus stop, where I had just arrived moments earlier. I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye and found nothing warranting closer inspection. Late 30s, dark suit, dark hair, briefcase in hand. Nothing more than a guy on his way to work, though it was well past rush hour and most businesspeople had already been in the office for an hour or so. I lifted the corners of my mouth in the almost-imperceptible ‘this is London and I don’t know you so I’m being a bit wary’ smile and turned back to looking for the bus, which was due any moment according to the electronic message board.

He took one step closer and asked, while gesturing towards the message board, “Do all of these buses go to Richmond station?”

“Yes, it’s only the 65 that goes past here and they all go to the station. Should be one here by now but that thing has said ‘bus due’ for a good five minutes now. You know how accurate these things are,” I said with a shrug and an subtle eyeroll, to indicate my disapproval of London’s public transport system, a required topic of conversation while waiting for a bus or train.

Missing the Christmas spirit

I've had Christmases abroad but until we moved to Bosnia I had never spent a Christmas in a country which doesn't really celebrate Christmas*. Christmas Day is a normal working day here and I am finding it odd. I hadn't realised how ingrained into my psyche Christmas is and to be somewhere where Christmas doesn't really feature is unsettling. There aren't really any cheesy Christmas movies on TV. That special sort of Christmas smell, the gingery, cinammony, fir tree smell is lacking. I'm missing Christmas carols - hell, I'm even missing Slade and Band Aid.

I'm finding this most difficult around the boys. We may live in Bosnia, but they are English and Christmas is a huge part of their culture. They need to grow up learning about the nativity, getting excited about presents, enjoying the build up, the parties, the preparation and the anticipation of it all. There are no Christmas activities at their nursery, no nativity play, no shepherd's in tea towels, no Mary forgetting her lines and dropping Baby Jesus.

It helps me to think we're sleeping under the same big sky

 
Here is something that hides away inside me, a fear that only arrived after the birth of our child. The fear of loss.

The realization that life is very precious and way too short was one of the unexpected hangovers of my childbirth experience.

Before we had Little Bear, living as an expat was exciting and held little concern for settling down.  Of course, I missed my family, but it never dawned on me just how many short precious years you have with the people you love.

That every year you are away from them and do not get to share your life with them is a loss.

That the people we love do not live forever.