And then what happened?
We're here. Everything is still sinking in. Adjusting to living here wasn't so hard, since we've visited before many times. The only difference is that it's permanent. Except it's not permanent in my mom's house, which again makes things temporary and the confusion continues. My mom's apartment is smallish but we fit in well. She has reorganized things so she has her own room, the kids have the big bedroom and Lincoln and I have the living room. It's a good set-up, but it also helps that it's summer and there are parks nearby and we can set the kids free on a regular basis as soon as they start bouncing off the walls.
Two days after arrival we set out to buy a computer desk, so we could unpack our computer and monitor, both of which made it in perfect condition in one of our 10 (!) suitcases. A miracle in itself. We picked out something nice and dark and classy from IKEA, so we could use it in our own place down the road. Somehow the purchase of a brand new piece of furniture marked the arrival for me, more so than getting a bank account and a new cell phone, which we did right after. Having a desk in a new country surly means one can't leave? It doesn't make sense, since we had just gotten rid of all our furniture days before...
Anyway the last 10 days in the States were packed with hard work and a ticking clock. I look back and still don't quite believe we did it. Everything worked out perfectly. My head and my adrenaline were in their top gear though, so much actually that I continued to "move" in my sleep after it was all done. Every night after we arrived for the first week or so I dreamed about moving, each time with a different - usually more tricky - scenario. One time I dreamed we had forgotten a whole extra floor in our house that was still full of furniture and things. Another time I dreamed that there was a flood and we had to wait for the water to drain before we could pack. Every single night. It was like a video game with every level throwing more obstacle at a higher pace at me. This is a clue of course to how stressed out I was. I was THAT stressed out.
It's bad enough to move, but moving everything so you can get on a plane and leave it all behind - with three kids - is a totally different story. Grandma came to help and I don't really know what we would've done without her driving the kids from playground to playground and pacifying them with movies at the hotel. We had had no other plan. Which was the case with everything else. What if hadn't worked out that way? I don't know.
This is what we did: We gave notice with our landlord, who found someone else to move in after us in about two weeks (we had a few showings only). Lincoln gave notice at his job. I gave notice everywhere else. We packed stuff up we wanted to leave with relatives in the US. They came and picked it up .Then we contacted movers for all the stuff we definitely wanted to keep (winter clothes, some books, some toys, some kitchen equipment and two appliances). (They picked the stuff up 5 days before the move. As of now it's still in New York but will sail to Rotterdam on 8/4. Movers will then drive it to our house. It should be here at the end of August.) We sold one car. Then we sold or gave away all our furniture and our household stuff, our TV, our chairs, our lamps and curtains, all of it. Luckily some friends were moving and some others were setting up new households and everything found a home. We moved into a hotel 5 nights before the day our flight was leaving. We went back to the apartment every day to clean it out. We had a "free" garage sale, where people from a local ReUseIt group came to pick it all up. We left the piano to the next renter, who was happy to have it. We cleaned the apartment and delivered a few boxes to Goodwill. We gave the van to our friends for the price of a ride to the airport. We got out of the car, said goodbye and got on a plane...
The trip to Vienna was horrendous unfortunately. We had booked a flight through Duesseldorf, because it was by thousands cheaper than a direct one. I hope I never have to make this decision again. The flight got delayed in New York because of bad weather, so we missed our connection flight. We had to wait for the next one, which was delayed too. The kids had slept a few hours but had to run around Duesseldorf with their carry-ons for over an hour. They even made us go through another a security check. Nikola had napped two hours on a plane and was awake and running the rest of the time. I don't know about this kid... who made him so crazy? He just kept on going. Once we landed in Vienna, he literally collapsed in my carrier and could not be woken up anymore, not when we put him in and out of the carseat, not when we put him into his crib or tried to rouse him so he would eat (He had avoided that very adamantly as well... Who does that at two? No food, no sleep for 10+ hours?). When we arrived we were welcomed by a big group of people, which was like jumping into the ocean after a long drought. We had worked hard for this moment. It was nice to finally see the results.
Besides setting up new lives in the last few weeks we've got the chance to quickly reacquaint ourselves with walking and riding the train. The town has a nice public pool, which we go to every day it's hot. We discovered some amazing playgrounds and just enjoyed the entirely different setting and change of pace. The kids also found out that maple syrup is not really easy to come by and mac & cheese is nonexistent. (Of course you can always call Grandma to send you some, which we promptly did.) A painful experience nevertheless that made Veronika conclude: America and Austria... it's like two different worlds!
It's true. It's exactly what it is and what we came for in a way. Austria is small, which has its disadvantages but on the other hand makes for a lot of, well, luxury. Playgrounds, trains, public facilities in general are well tended to, clean and not overrun.I'm sure it helps we currently don't live in a city, but it's been a truly positive discovery. There are still many moments in a day where I have to remember why I'm here and explain to myself that there is no home to go back to. Regardless of how long you plan a move like this, it's a shock to your system. I keep thinking of all the places in Danbury I'd go to several times a week, the time I spent sitting in the car, my kitchen... it's all gone. Veronika mentioned to me how she didn't have her room, how she saw it all empty. There was not sadness in her voice, but I think I know the feeling - it's almost too unreal to be able to feel sad about it. I told her what I do sometimes: I close my eyes and in my head it's all exactly how it was. I imagine what it was like and there none of it is empty or in disarray, everything still has its place...
One way or another things change and time passes and it never comes back again. When you stay in one place this is not as obvious or at least it takes many years for the past to become the past in your mind. For us it's different, since with the change of every location we also say goodbye to that time of our life. It is very visible and can't really slip by us. I didn't find it easy. I also found it very valuable. It keeps me "awake" and it helps me focus on the important things in life and literally let everything else go.
The kids seem to have had a good time so far. The moving part was stressful for everyone and it's harder when you're little and don't really understand a lot of it. I think seeing our place being dismantled was confusing. I hope we did a good job making them feel safe despite of it. Once we got here I can tell they have relaxed quite a bit. All the people we told them about they can now spend time with and I've been making an effort to have a somewhat regular schedule. The next hurdle will be school and preschool starting on 9/6. We're practicing German for half an hour every day and they have otherwise been very good about speaking it, especially Veronika.
The benefits for our family will unfold slowly. We need lots of patience, which I remind myself of daily as I tend to feel a need to plan ahead constantly and it's just not possible. Things have worked out just as planned so far, actually even better, it's not worry that drives me so much as curiosity. We have untethered everything in our life. Who throws away a perfectly nice set-up with a job, a home and three kids on top of it? We do apparently and I can't wait to see how it's all going to turn out.
Posted at 03:15 PM on July 30, 2010 | Comments (6)Something about my life in America
(I started writing this post 10 days before the move and only finished it now. I struggled through it because the more time passed the more I felt I had to say and the less I felt I could make one good point. I've decided to post it because lots of it tells exactly how I feel, although on the whole it's a mess. It needs total rewriting, but I don't have that kind of time.)
Sadly my departure from the States coincides with my 10-year-anniversary of living here. I'd planned to write about it months ago. I was going to have a series of posts about all the things I've come to love and include some witty observations that would rival Bill Bryson's famous travel writing. It was going to be about all the places I've lived in and also some sweeping - yet moving - generalizations, it was going to be extensive and my vast readership would have been anxiously awaiting the next installment. It looked brilliant in my head, as it always does. There is no limit to my delusions.
Yet - I also knew from the start it was not going to happen. My choice was to just let it all go or sit down and write something, anything. I'm going with the latter. I promise nothing.
The advantage as a non-native is that you can make your mind up about everything in the new country because you have something to compare it to. The places you're from cling to you whether you want it or not, they are you. Some things you might not like, but you cannot separate from them. As a foreigner, they are not part of you until you let them. Coming here I was prepared for a lot of unhappiness, simply because I had changed countries before and knew that it's human nature to dislike newness - it's simple law of inertia. Despite any excitement you might feel about the new place, at the end of the day you will be disgruntled because it's just not what you're used to. I knew this was a phase, but still unavoidable. Most things I loathed I have now overcome through assimilation which led me to either understanding or acceptance.
Americans used to strike me as incredibly fake with their GREAT! AWESOME! I LOVE IT! HOW CAN I HELP YOU!? I reacted like any respectable European would: "Goodness, these people are so childish. Stop harrassing me, you're embarassing yourself." A true European (=sweeping, inaccurate generalization) does not let his - most likely always unfounded - enthusiasm run free in front of stranger. A cool, restrained and sceptical view of life is always recommended there. Unlike in America, where enthusiasm and positivity are everywhere. It's a lot to handle in the beginning. Constant bright sunshine can be sickening.
If you look at me now, I'm probably that sickeningly positive person. It's not like I wasn't before moving here, it's just that showing it would have seemed too banal. Culture is a language and I didn't speak that language. I appreciate it now as I do a million other things. Not because I would say it's the better way to communicate - in fact I don't believe there is a "best" way to communicate - but because it's part of who people are and I've come to love the people. I think it's impossible not to love the people. I consider it a special privilege I received from being multi-cultural, the opportunity to come to love people across cultural differences.
So I learned how to eat corn on the cob, not as an occasional fall treat, but as part of a meal, as a side dish. I found that most curious - and most delicious. I ate hamburgers a lot, not as a McDonalds specialty but a staple at every party and get-together, - and I liked it. And now, corn on the cob will conjure up a mesmerizing mix of images of lawns and paper plates and dear friends and sunsets and air smelling just so. It's a totally different world from anything I knew growing up but it is still familiar in its essence. It might sound cliche, but in the end whatever is strange and new and unacceptable at first eventually becomes clear through the prism of relationships. Everything I've come to know and learn about America was through people and regardless of whether I adopted it myself (... like calling everyone by their first name and pouring syrup on my food) or continued to find it unacceptable (...like the absolute rule of having to own and drive a car unless you live in a major City. What kind of freedom is this?) it could not be dismissed.
***
The one place that stands out for me is Connecticut, because we didn't choose it but it ended up being our home during some very significant times (two babies, several forever friends...). I'm surprised myself how much I came to love it, because I've practiced detachment from places all my life and this one snuck up on me. Actually the whole Northeast charmed me with its ocean and old houses and an incredible mix of people. Some people in Danbury lamented the rapid increase in immigrants. I loved it. As a homeland-challenged person I felt we had so much in common even if our cultures were worlds apart. I understood every Brazilian restaurant and Indian store as someone's bittersweet pain for the place they left and the need to recreate a piece of home in the new world. Immigrants carry themselves differently when they walk in those places and I was grateful they brought their country here. Who knows if I'll ever get to go to Ecuador, but I feel like I've been there a little already. Everyone who's from somewhere else has a whole other identity they have to set aside in the new place, but that doesn't mean it's gone. I like to look for it when I meet someone. I have it myself, I know what it's like to have to put a part of you on hold. America is full of new and old immigrants. It's probably one of my favorite things about it.
Like I said above, I was going to dedicate lots of blog space to each and every place I've lived in or visited, but I find it impossible to do. I can't really put it into words without slipping into sentimentalities. I've rewritten a few paragraphs and then scrapped it all. I can't. Too many feelings, that kind of stuff. Maybe it'll all come out down the road.
***
Once you know someone, every memory with this person turns the anonymous place into your life. I am so grateful for every person that made the US my life. People like to talk about what this country has to offer. And it does have a lot to offer, but for me this was never on top of the list. Lots of places have great things to offer. But just like in a friendship, a friend is a friend not because of the gifts they give you, but simply for being who they are.
Posted at 02:32 PM on July 26, 2010