So, here I sit, typing what may probably be the very same story that's already been told a thousand times over. It's full of cliches, catchphrases, and I'm pretty sure there's some kind of moral in it somewhere, but beats me what it is. It's a story that will more than likely just make you cringe, but I'm going to tell it anyway. Not because I'm a man of my convictions, or because I believe it's a story worth being told again, but because I'm a neurotic individual who thinks every thought should be expressed somehow. OK I digress.
Yes, I am an expat, and by extension, so are my family members; I've dragged my wife and two young sons into this life, and I have no regrets. We've joined millions of others, worldwide, who have taken on a life abroad, as residents in a foreign land. It's nothing new. We're not the first people to do this, and we're not the last. So why am I bothering with this journal? Why add to the mythos when there is already so much written about this life? Why continue to perpetuate 'the expat with a thousand faces'? (sorry, Joseph Campbell) Well, for one thing, see above. Secondly, I love writing, and I love being able to share my experiences with others. My aim is always to convey exactly what I'm feeling at that point in time to an audience. Unfortunately, this blog has come 4 months after our arrival here in the U.A.E, and as a result, my personal feelings and sentiment towards this country have somewhat changed, but I'll try my hardest to recall to you how I and my family felt immediately after arrival.
This is when a 10 minute walk turns into Moses wandering the desert. This is when Germany becomes bogged down in the trenches. This is the beginning of the circus.
I won't go too far into the details, eventually the journey was made, eventually luggage was collected (all intact, thank you) and eventually the immigration checkpoint was cleared. Then comes the next step: The pick up.
Waiting for us was a staff member from the school where I was to begin working, (we'll call him Wade because that's his actual name) along with 3 other newly arrived teachers. If my 2 boys had smelled fear, then I certainly saw it in these peoples faces on this day. It was as if every single person in the airport had morphed into a lizard person right in front of them. I had to check myself to make sure that the same expression wasn't planted on my face. If it wasn't then, it certainly was when we stepped outside, because switching from 8 degrees Celsius to 45+ in such a short space of time is something reserved for experienced SAS commandos (if SAS commandos are such a thing, I'm not so brushed up on my military lingo)
"Welcome to the desert", is uttered, and then it's on. A bumpy, swerving, nauseatingly gruesome bus ride in Dubai traffic. I should probably mention first as a disclaimer, I absolutely love this country, and I love the people, there's really not much to dislike... apart from the traffic. Yes, the traffic can be brutal. Almost every man and woman for themselves. That's all I'll say.
About 30 minutes later and we've arrived at our new home for the next 3 years, the staff accommodation. The 'villas' as they call them (they're not villas). We have some help with our luggage, and we enter the front door... it's hot. It's really hot. It's so hot that if heat could manifest itself into the form of a man, he would travel to Iceland for a holiday. It's so hot that the walls of this apartment are sweating... or is it tears? I don't know, either way, it's bloody hot.
We turn the AC on, and yes, every single room you enter here has AC. There's upstairs and downstairs AC in our apartment. It's not a luxury, it's a frickin necessity. It's a way of life. AC is an ideology. Our AC, who art in ventilation, hallowed be thy name.
For reasons that will probably become obvious to me in another delirious moment of insanity, I bring my family in for a family hug (aww) despite the high chances that we'll all probably become stuck together. I manage to blurt something out about finally being here. We didn't get stuck, crisis averted.
In short, the next week was a frenzy of shopping for food, organising phones, orientation at work, meeting neighbours, meeting colleagues, meeting my bosses and trying to find a decent slice of pizza (we found a few good ones). It was a blur, but the most sobering point probably came during our fourth night here. I get a knock on our door at around 9pm. I answer it and there's the head of Middle School, welcoming me and just warning me that tomorrow and for the next three months my head is probably going to spin (awesome). I'm in for a whirlwind of information, I'm told (awesome). I go upstairs to get some sleep only to be woken at 2am by boys who still haven't adjusted to the time difference (everything is awesome!)
Fast forward 4 months. A very long and hard 16 week term is now complete. I sit here in cool 20 degree weather (no AC, we don't worship Him until March). We have established our home, everything is the way we like it. Our boys are thriving and having the time of their lives. They are making friends and having such a great time at school and learning a new language in Arabic. My eldest will randomly start singing the U.A.E national anthem, I think it's his favourite song at the moment. My wife is loving her job as well (she's in childcare and training) and has made some very good friends along the way. The only sad thing is that in the past week we've both had to say goodbye to some very good friends who have finished up here and have returned to Australia. I never thought that after saying goodbye to family and friends back in Perth, that we'd be going through the same emotional ride of having to say goodbye to close friends over here only months later. That's the way of life, it'll throw surprises like this at you. That's why we take these plunges into the unknown. Life needs to hurl a swift curveball at you every now and again (see! only my first cliche this article!).
I don't think I could simply go back to the same life my family and I had only 4 months ago. We don't like it here... we love it! We are loving the lifestyle, we are loving the culture, the people, the respect that everyone has here. As I said earlier, there is not much to dislike (probably ONLY the traffic, but even then it's actually not that bad for most of the day).
Would I recommend the expat life? Yes. Is it for everyone? No. This is an experience that can only be what you make of it. If you choose to be negative about it, then guess what? Yes, it's going to be a negative experience. If you are always positive about it, then you'll also suffer because you simply can't be positive all the time. You are going to have complaints. There are going to be things that will get to you or make your angry, sad, fearful, maybe all at the same time. You need to talk about these with others. A support base is important and we're lucky for having that in awesome neighbours and amazing colleagues. Also, find as many things about the place you're in that you like, and start learning to love them. It doesn't take anywhere near as much time as you might think.
So, that's it for now. I'll probably have another article up within a week, or whenever I can be bothered to post one. I hope this hasn't been too boring, although I do strive my hardest to live up to my title.
Stay safe. Stay true. Stay boring.
The Boring Expat.
Yes, I am an expat, and by extension, so are my family members; I've dragged my wife and two young sons into this life, and I have no regrets. We've joined millions of others, worldwide, who have taken on a life abroad, as residents in a foreign land. It's nothing new. We're not the first people to do this, and we're not the last. So why am I bothering with this journal? Why add to the mythos when there is already so much written about this life? Why continue to perpetuate 'the expat with a thousand faces'? (sorry, Joseph Campbell) Well, for one thing, see above. Secondly, I love writing, and I love being able to share my experiences with others. My aim is always to convey exactly what I'm feeling at that point in time to an audience. Unfortunately, this blog has come 4 months after our arrival here in the U.A.E, and as a result, my personal feelings and sentiment towards this country have somewhat changed, but I'll try my hardest to recall to you how I and my family felt immediately after arrival.
I really wish I could say it was as wacky and zany as Hoffman and Beatty's adventures.
Of all the things I remember most clearly after landing, it would have to be... well, not just one thing, to be honest. When you're on your own, then you get the time to take in your surroundings a little bit more. You can savour the moment, take a deep breath and be in the moment. You have arrived, you're in a new country. Life is exciting, and you are certainly taking that bull known as life by the proverbial horns.
When you have children, you do not have these thoughts.
Every moment, from the landing, to finally finding the luggage carousel should theoretically be easy. It's like you're Germany and you're analysing the Schlieffen Plan. Yes, it looks almost perfect on paper, but once you start your journey towards France, you forget about Russia and then out of nowhere, Britain joins the party. This is what travelling with young children is like. Young children who haven't slept in 14 hours. Young children who filled up on sugar and sugar substitutes during the flight in your attempt to appease them as best you could for the 10 hour journey. Young children who smell fear.
I won't go too far into the details, eventually the journey was made, eventually luggage was collected (all intact, thank you) and eventually the immigration checkpoint was cleared. Then comes the next step: The pick up.
Waiting for us was a staff member from the school where I was to begin working, (we'll call him Wade because that's his actual name) along with 3 other newly arrived teachers. If my 2 boys had smelled fear, then I certainly saw it in these peoples faces on this day. It was as if every single person in the airport had morphed into a lizard person right in front of them. I had to check myself to make sure that the same expression wasn't planted on my face. If it wasn't then, it certainly was when we stepped outside, because switching from 8 degrees Celsius to 45+ in such a short space of time is something reserved for experienced SAS commandos (if SAS commandos are such a thing, I'm not so brushed up on my military lingo)
"Welcome to the desert", is uttered, and then it's on. A bumpy, swerving, nauseatingly gruesome bus ride in Dubai traffic. I should probably mention first as a disclaimer, I absolutely love this country, and I love the people, there's really not much to dislike... apart from the traffic. Yes, the traffic can be brutal. Almost every man and woman for themselves. That's all I'll say.
About 30 minutes later and we've arrived at our new home for the next 3 years, the staff accommodation. The 'villas' as they call them (they're not villas). We have some help with our luggage, and we enter the front door... it's hot. It's really hot. It's so hot that if heat could manifest itself into the form of a man, he would travel to Iceland for a holiday. It's so hot that the walls of this apartment are sweating... or is it tears? I don't know, either way, it's bloody hot.
We turn the AC on, and yes, every single room you enter here has AC. There's upstairs and downstairs AC in our apartment. It's not a luxury, it's a frickin necessity. It's a way of life. AC is an ideology. Our AC, who art in ventilation, hallowed be thy name.
For reasons that will probably become obvious to me in another delirious moment of insanity, I bring my family in for a family hug (aww) despite the high chances that we'll all probably become stuck together. I manage to blurt something out about finally being here. We didn't get stuck, crisis averted.
In short, the next week was a frenzy of shopping for food, organising phones, orientation at work, meeting neighbours, meeting colleagues, meeting my bosses and trying to find a decent slice of pizza (we found a few good ones). It was a blur, but the most sobering point probably came during our fourth night here. I get a knock on our door at around 9pm. I answer it and there's the head of Middle School, welcoming me and just warning me that tomorrow and for the next three months my head is probably going to spin (awesome). I'm in for a whirlwind of information, I'm told (awesome). I go upstairs to get some sleep only to be woken at 2am by boys who still haven't adjusted to the time difference (everything is awesome!)
Me after my 7th espresso for the morning
Fast forward 4 months. A very long and hard 16 week term is now complete. I sit here in cool 20 degree weather (no AC, we don't worship Him until March). We have established our home, everything is the way we like it. Our boys are thriving and having the time of their lives. They are making friends and having such a great time at school and learning a new language in Arabic. My eldest will randomly start singing the U.A.E national anthem, I think it's his favourite song at the moment. My wife is loving her job as well (she's in childcare and training) and has made some very good friends along the way. The only sad thing is that in the past week we've both had to say goodbye to some very good friends who have finished up here and have returned to Australia. I never thought that after saying goodbye to family and friends back in Perth, that we'd be going through the same emotional ride of having to say goodbye to close friends over here only months later. That's the way of life, it'll throw surprises like this at you. That's why we take these plunges into the unknown. Life needs to hurl a swift curveball at you every now and again (see! only my first cliche this article!).
I don't think I could simply go back to the same life my family and I had only 4 months ago. We don't like it here... we love it! We are loving the lifestyle, we are loving the culture, the people, the respect that everyone has here. As I said earlier, there is not much to dislike (probably ONLY the traffic, but even then it's actually not that bad for most of the day).
Would I recommend the expat life? Yes. Is it for everyone? No. This is an experience that can only be what you make of it. If you choose to be negative about it, then guess what? Yes, it's going to be a negative experience. If you are always positive about it, then you'll also suffer because you simply can't be positive all the time. You are going to have complaints. There are going to be things that will get to you or make your angry, sad, fearful, maybe all at the same time. You need to talk about these with others. A support base is important and we're lucky for having that in awesome neighbours and amazing colleagues. Also, find as many things about the place you're in that you like, and start learning to love them. It doesn't take anywhere near as much time as you might think.
So, that's it for now. I'll probably have another article up within a week, or whenever I can be bothered to post one. I hope this hasn't been too boring, although I do strive my hardest to live up to my title.
Stay safe. Stay true. Stay boring.
The Boring Expat.
No comments:
Post a Comment