The Best and Worst: A Highlight Reel
We are exactly three and one half months in to our latest adventure here in Austria. I consider the word "adventure" to have a positive connotation. Most of the time. To accurately share my experiences both whilst traveling and living abroad I will state for the record that adventure is a word I use freely and often to sugar coat a rather un-sparkly moment or memory. It can be sarcastic in nature or true to it's given Webster's definitions, which are, "an undertaking usually involving danger and unknown risks", or "an exciting or remarkable experience" and lastly, "an enterprise involving financial risk". And all the expats and wanderers worldwide echoed a resounding "amen" to the last definition. Financial comfort, at least in our current situation, is something we have given up. Hear me when I say that we willingly did so. I mean, this move across the globe was our decision. Ahem, mostly. I digress. Adventure. It's what I refer to this life we're living as, a grand adventure. And it is, has been and will continue be. It is only through this adventuring, if you will, that I have had the privilege of witnessing the very best and worst of myself.
Trust me when I say that living with me is no picnic. I am a solid two on the Enneagram. Which means I feel all the feels, yours, mine, the stranger's on the street. You get the picture, right? Keen on serving those in my sphere, meeting their deepest needs and stuffing mine way down and carrying on as though a martyr are my specialties. Needless to say transition, huge life changes and the such have a way of exposing these traits at their worst. My flaws. Ouch. The process of recognizing these patterns has been enlightening and so helpful in the self awareness category. All these beautiful intentions are typically pure in motivation but when in the throes of change all the "normal" has this amazing capability of turning unhealthy rather quickly. I have experienced that. As has my family. The vulnerable posture we choose to live in offers itself to the extremes of humanness. The best and worst.
I continually have these thoughts as I'm immersed in my daily life here. Questions from outsiders typically revolve around these three topics, "are you feeling settled", "how are you finding the language barrier" and "what do you do all day". I struggle with whether or not to share the best or the worst. Because living abroad does something to skew one's expectations of productivity and truly unless you have walked the walk and experienced living in a foreign country it is rather difficult to explain. So different than visiting on holiday, or even spending extended time in a location. Living and immersing in a culture other than your own and being forced to navigate the unknown and new are challenges worthy of their own posts. For the purpose of this rant I will stay true to my personal insights and experiences. My feelings, emotions and mishaps. The very best and worst of what I have seen in myself as I navigate Vienna, not quite an expat and not necessarily a "local" either.
Living outside one's comfort zone is an attribute of high value. As said previously, I believe wherever one calls home, pushing the boundaries of normal and comfort lend the opportunity to stretch and grow and learn lessons not available otherwise. So, yes, this living abroad is good. The choice to embrace a culture other than my own is a serious endeavor for me. Learning the idioms, the accepted greetings, everyday norms and distinct expectations in public situations are important. I don't want to be "that American". And yet, I am. The one who leaves the tip on the table for the waiter and is stopped mid-dash to the door by another customer and told, "they don't really like when you do that". Cue the rosy cheeks and embarrassed "thank you" from my face. Also, all the gut feelings of I know better, that was something that Husband Jared shared with me on our look-see trip. You need to hand the tip directly to the waiter/waitress. And then the time Thing 3 and I visited the National Library and we payed a student ticket price for her when she should have been FREE. Little did I know that "student" in Austria apparently means university student. Then when I asked for a refund on the ticket price because I had my receipt, ticket and proof of age for her I was refused. Told it was my fault for not reading the sign better. Ok, thank you very much. Yes, I am that American. These incidences all felt rather defeating for me. The worst of me rose up. Despite my desire to shine that little light of mine and graciously respond in kindness I wanted to argue. Plead my case. Ensure that others knew I was capable. Aware. That I lived here and I wasn't an ignorant tourist. But no. Instead I walked away from both encounters knowing that I had so far to go. So much to learn.
Also the worst is the emotional rollercoaster I ride. One morning I am all sunshiney, yes it's a word, and this is an incredible experience, gosh our story is so different and I'm grateful to be living it here in Vienna. The next day, or maybe even just after breakfast, it's dooms day, I am ready to leave. Thoughts of all the therapy our Things will need because they don't even know how to answer the question, "where are you from?", we aren't stable, etc. What am I going to do here? How are we going to parent adult children while 5,000 miles away? I've failed my daughters and now they are on their own, living with my siblings. What kind of mother am I? If only I were there. And, how about school for Thing 4? And football? Friends? Community? Downward spiral is an understatement. My mind is vicious and frightening. Really. When it reaches this level, you know who I blame? Husband Jared. That's totally fair, right? Of course it is. I am the epitome of a mature, supportive wife of almost twenty one years. Nope. Back to my two-ness, I need loads of time to process, we are talking outward processing, let's go deep into the recesses and flesh out all the details and emotions. Thus this blog post. And the endless conversations with Husband Jared, the pro and cons list I continually write about living abroad and all the in-between, in my head conversations I have with myself, you know since Polo isn't here to listen. The worst.
All the usual is amplified here. That is the most accurate adjective for me to apply to my life as an expat but not really an expat. A constant assault, both positively and negatively, on all the senses. I use the word "assault" without the visual of war or confrontation, more to help paint a picture of the best and worst here. The blooming trees that line the street of our apartment were a visual wonder for me. Causing me to explode with joy each time I walked to the U station. It was an unfolding of Spring happening right before my eyes. One day tiny buds, the next a few closed leaves inching out of the branches and then what seemed like an instant the trees were bold and completely covered in green, creating canopies for the cars parked beneath them and casting shadows on the sidewalk. Witnessing the city come alive with the warmer temperatures was everything I was hoping it would be. All the Schanigartens were prepared and the Viennese and tourists alike flocked to them like moths to the flame. Umbrellas and chairs taking their places on the streets of the cafes and laughter lingering at dusk. I tell you it is intoxicating. Walking the Prater and seeing Kinder running from swing to slide, frisbees being tossed, blankets spread every which way, lovers and families, basking in the sunshine. This city does Spring like no other. This, this brings out the best. Don't get me wrong, I love a cozy day spent inside while it's grey and gloomy outside. There is something completely magical about winter too. I've seen that and I've thought the best then as well.
The best can also be said for being able to offer directions to tourists. A pat on the back that just maybe I am learning my way around, that this city and I are becoming better acquainted. That little gesture had me on high for the rest of the day. Until the next day when I managed to get myself lost on the running trail in that very same park. Yep. I added about a mile to my run and a rather small dose of panic as my GPS would not work properly. After a few deep breaths and logical thinking I regained my orientation and made it home safely. Note to self: maybe running a new trail by yourself isn't such a good idea? I don't know. Trying new things and venturing out on my own does help with the best. I want to be capable of tackling the unknown and difficult here. You know, like learning a new language. One that doesn't sound pretty to me, or even nice. There I said it out loud. Our language teacher told me on the first night of lessons, learning a language is 80% emotional. What the what? He certainly was right. And he had me pegged. I've been in refusal mode and frankly speaking, learning a new language, it seems, is more challenging for me than the rest of my family. I stumble over my words and can't get the structure just right and in the moment I forget everything. No, really I do. My mind goes blank and all I can think is English please. For my perfectionist, not wanting to make a mistake self, this is hard. There isn't a better adjective. It is hard. Nonetheless I am persevering. Not necessarily practicing as much I should but hoping beyond hope that maybe there will be a Holy Spirit intervention and I will wake one morning being completely fluent. Or at least being able to ask if I can pet someone's dog. That would be a win.
Trust me when I say that living with me is no picnic. I am a solid two on the Enneagram. Which means I feel all the feels, yours, mine, the stranger's on the street. You get the picture, right? Keen on serving those in my sphere, meeting their deepest needs and stuffing mine way down and carrying on as though a martyr are my specialties. Needless to say transition, huge life changes and the such have a way of exposing these traits at their worst. My flaws. Ouch. The process of recognizing these patterns has been enlightening and so helpful in the self awareness category. All these beautiful intentions are typically pure in motivation but when in the throes of change all the "normal" has this amazing capability of turning unhealthy rather quickly. I have experienced that. As has my family. The vulnerable posture we choose to live in offers itself to the extremes of humanness. The best and worst.
I continually have these thoughts as I'm immersed in my daily life here. Questions from outsiders typically revolve around these three topics, "are you feeling settled", "how are you finding the language barrier" and "what do you do all day". I struggle with whether or not to share the best or the worst. Because living abroad does something to skew one's expectations of productivity and truly unless you have walked the walk and experienced living in a foreign country it is rather difficult to explain. So different than visiting on holiday, or even spending extended time in a location. Living and immersing in a culture other than your own and being forced to navigate the unknown and new are challenges worthy of their own posts. For the purpose of this rant I will stay true to my personal insights and experiences. My feelings, emotions and mishaps. The very best and worst of what I have seen in myself as I navigate Vienna, not quite an expat and not necessarily a "local" either.
Living outside one's comfort zone is an attribute of high value. As said previously, I believe wherever one calls home, pushing the boundaries of normal and comfort lend the opportunity to stretch and grow and learn lessons not available otherwise. So, yes, this living abroad is good. The choice to embrace a culture other than my own is a serious endeavor for me. Learning the idioms, the accepted greetings, everyday norms and distinct expectations in public situations are important. I don't want to be "that American". And yet, I am. The one who leaves the tip on the table for the waiter and is stopped mid-dash to the door by another customer and told, "they don't really like when you do that". Cue the rosy cheeks and embarrassed "thank you" from my face. Also, all the gut feelings of I know better, that was something that Husband Jared shared with me on our look-see trip. You need to hand the tip directly to the waiter/waitress. And then the time Thing 3 and I visited the National Library and we payed a student ticket price for her when she should have been FREE. Little did I know that "student" in Austria apparently means university student. Then when I asked for a refund on the ticket price because I had my receipt, ticket and proof of age for her I was refused. Told it was my fault for not reading the sign better. Ok, thank you very much. Yes, I am that American. These incidences all felt rather defeating for me. The worst of me rose up. Despite my desire to shine that little light of mine and graciously respond in kindness I wanted to argue. Plead my case. Ensure that others knew I was capable. Aware. That I lived here and I wasn't an ignorant tourist. But no. Instead I walked away from both encounters knowing that I had so far to go. So much to learn.
Also the worst is the emotional rollercoaster I ride. One morning I am all sunshiney, yes it's a word, and this is an incredible experience, gosh our story is so different and I'm grateful to be living it here in Vienna. The next day, or maybe even just after breakfast, it's dooms day, I am ready to leave. Thoughts of all the therapy our Things will need because they don't even know how to answer the question, "where are you from?", we aren't stable, etc. What am I going to do here? How are we going to parent adult children while 5,000 miles away? I've failed my daughters and now they are on their own, living with my siblings. What kind of mother am I? If only I were there. And, how about school for Thing 4? And football? Friends? Community? Downward spiral is an understatement. My mind is vicious and frightening. Really. When it reaches this level, you know who I blame? Husband Jared. That's totally fair, right? Of course it is. I am the epitome of a mature, supportive wife of almost twenty one years. Nope. Back to my two-ness, I need loads of time to process, we are talking outward processing, let's go deep into the recesses and flesh out all the details and emotions. Thus this blog post. And the endless conversations with Husband Jared, the pro and cons list I continually write about living abroad and all the in-between, in my head conversations I have with myself, you know since Polo isn't here to listen. The worst.
All the usual is amplified here. That is the most accurate adjective for me to apply to my life as an expat but not really an expat. A constant assault, both positively and negatively, on all the senses. I use the word "assault" without the visual of war or confrontation, more to help paint a picture of the best and worst here. The blooming trees that line the street of our apartment were a visual wonder for me. Causing me to explode with joy each time I walked to the U station. It was an unfolding of Spring happening right before my eyes. One day tiny buds, the next a few closed leaves inching out of the branches and then what seemed like an instant the trees were bold and completely covered in green, creating canopies for the cars parked beneath them and casting shadows on the sidewalk. Witnessing the city come alive with the warmer temperatures was everything I was hoping it would be. All the Schanigartens were prepared and the Viennese and tourists alike flocked to them like moths to the flame. Umbrellas and chairs taking their places on the streets of the cafes and laughter lingering at dusk. I tell you it is intoxicating. Walking the Prater and seeing Kinder running from swing to slide, frisbees being tossed, blankets spread every which way, lovers and families, basking in the sunshine. This city does Spring like no other. This, this brings out the best. Don't get me wrong, I love a cozy day spent inside while it's grey and gloomy outside. There is something completely magical about winter too. I've seen that and I've thought the best then as well.
The best can also be said for being able to offer directions to tourists. A pat on the back that just maybe I am learning my way around, that this city and I are becoming better acquainted. That little gesture had me on high for the rest of the day. Until the next day when I managed to get myself lost on the running trail in that very same park. Yep. I added about a mile to my run and a rather small dose of panic as my GPS would not work properly. After a few deep breaths and logical thinking I regained my orientation and made it home safely. Note to self: maybe running a new trail by yourself isn't such a good idea? I don't know. Trying new things and venturing out on my own does help with the best. I want to be capable of tackling the unknown and difficult here. You know, like learning a new language. One that doesn't sound pretty to me, or even nice. There I said it out loud. Our language teacher told me on the first night of lessons, learning a language is 80% emotional. What the what? He certainly was right. And he had me pegged. I've been in refusal mode and frankly speaking, learning a new language, it seems, is more challenging for me than the rest of my family. I stumble over my words and can't get the structure just right and in the moment I forget everything. No, really I do. My mind goes blank and all I can think is English please. For my perfectionist, not wanting to make a mistake self, this is hard. There isn't a better adjective. It is hard. Nonetheless I am persevering. Not necessarily practicing as much I should but hoping beyond hope that maybe there will be a Holy Spirit intervention and I will wake one morning being completely fluent. Or at least being able to ask if I can pet someone's dog. That would be a win.
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