Tag Archives: book

Expat Book Review

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Here We Are and There We Go  by Jill Dobbe

Jill and her husband were school teachers in Wisconsin USA when one day they moved half way around the world and their lives changed drastically.

Like Jill’s children, I was born into the nomadic life of the serial expat.  I lived in West Africa, Mexico, Asia, South America, and Europe, so I can identify with many of her experiences.  I grew up speaking different languages, like her children did, and I continue to have the travel bug today.  Like her children do.

What truly amazed me about this book was that they just jumped headlong into it with no safety net and blinders off.  They made the decision to move to Guam almost on a whim.  They didn’t even know where Guam was.  That was either very gutsy or completely crazy.  And what was even more interesting was that they stuck it out, learned, and grew through it all.

It didn’t sound like Guam was the dream South Pacific location we all imagined.  It actually sounded pretty challenging.  But they worked through it and learned a lot.  That made their next posting to Singapore a bit easier.   Of course Singapore was probably not a hardship posting. But they were still half way around the world from family and friends in a place with a different culture.  They seemed to breeze through that one.

By the time the got to Ghana they were seasoned travelers.  Although, having lived in Nigeria myself, I know that Ghana was probably not paradise either.  But as they came to understand, there are wonderful things all over the world.  You just have to be open to them.  Jill and her family discovered the joy, frustration, sorrow, and unending surprises one finds when traveling.

I might be reading something into this but it seemed to me they decided to return to the USA for the sake of the children.  Their children spent their high school years (or most of them) in the USA learning to be US citizens.  This probably made it a much easier transition for them in the long run.  It might have given them a clear identity at a young age.  However, from my experience, it doesn’t work.  My son returned to the USA when he was six and now that he is about to enter college all he dreams about is going overseas.  And it seems their children were the same.  They were happy to continue traveling.

Returning to the USA was a difficult transition for all of them.  Jill says she realized people were not interested in her stories and could not relate.  I know exactly what she means.  It is so far from what people know, it is difficult to imagine and therefore not interesting.  Re-entry is a challenge for all expats but travelers know how to adjust and tweak and adapt.  Jill and her family were no exception.  They had a good few years back home with friends and family but the itch was still there.

At the end of the book they leave the USA again for distant lands and new experiences.  I think Jill has more to tell.  Perhaps she will write part two some day!

Check it out, it is worth the read!!

TCK Resilience

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Photo on 11-26-12 at 8.32 AM

Resilience is defined as the ability to bounce back quickly, to cope with stress and adversity.  According to some people Third Culture Kids are very resilient.  I never thought of myself that way.  I just dealt with things as they came up and moved on.  It was like being on auto pilot.

When I landed in a country I had never been to before and there was nobody to meet me at the airport, I didn’t hesitate at all.  I changed money and went looking for some kind of transportation.  I wasn’t going to sit around worrying about it.  Although, had I sat around for a while, I might have seen my father come looking for me instead of missing him as we crossed paths.

When I went to boarding school at 13 and people thought I was weird I did whine about it a little.  But I moved on.  I slowly figured out that I needed to adapt and try to fit in.  I was young for my age and had lived overseas all my life.  I landed in the USA in the middle of a cultural revolution I knew very little about.   I absorbed all the information I could and not only did I adapt to it all but I embraced it.

When we moved to Africa a few years later and I went off to boarding school in Switzerland, I was prepared to live away from home and up on world topics.  I was ahead of the curve.

Once again it all broke down when I went to college in the USA.  I was too international now.  I had to rein it in and become more local.  I had to adapt to another culture.  I was so used to discussing travel, European art, and world politics with my peers that I didn’t think before I opened my mouth and blabbed about my high school experiences.  My new peers could not relate and thought I was bragging.

My new persona emerged and I was quiet inside my shell for a long time.  No more story telling here.  But I managed to eventually adapt to that as well.  I made friends and existed on a different level.  I became one of them.

So who was I?  How could I find myself and figure out what I should be doing?  All I wanted to do was get out of town.  To move on.  That’s what I had always done, wasn’t it?  Just dealt with the immediate problem and moved on.  I didn’t know why.  I never really thought about it that much.  I just knew I was not comfortable.  I was searching for something but didn’t know what it was.  I was living between cultures.  I didn’t feel American but I didn’t feel Mexican or Colombian or Nigerian, or Swiss.  I was unique, I was different.

Years later I learned I was a Third Culture Kid  - somebody who grew up in a culture not their own.  I discovered  I was not the only one who felt this way. Norma McCaig of Global Nomads wrote:

The benefits of this upbringing need to be underscored:  In an era when global vision is an imperative, when skills in intercultural communication, linguistic ability, mediation, diplomacy, and the management of diversity are critical, global nomads are better equipped in these areas by the age of eighteen than are many adults… These intercultural and linguistic skills  are the markings of the cultural chameleon — the young participant-observer who takes note of verbal and nonverbal cues and readjusts accordingly, taking enough of the coloration of the social surroundings to gain acceptance while maintaining some vestige of identity as a different animal, an “other.”

I wish I had read that when I was eighteen!  :)

Does knowing all of this solve my restlessness, make me more comfortable?  No, it doesn’t solve it but it helps me understand it.  I know what it is and why I am the way I am.  It isn’t a bad thing.  But as I grow older, I think I have become less tolerant of ignorant people.  If somebody doesn’t know where France is or hates Muslims, or thinks Berlusconi is a type of pasta, I just don’t really bother to put any effort out.  I let it go.  When I was younger, I would try to educate or sometimes I would just brush it aside and try to make myself acceptable to them.  I don’t do that anymore.  I move on.

I recently published a book about all my trials and tribulations, joys and challenges and adventures growing up all over the world.  But it was not easy.  I spent a lot of time writing with tears streaming down my face.  I suppose I need deep psycho therapy to figure that out.  But when it was all done.  I felt better.  Something had been resolved.  I had accomplished what I set out to do and I felt positive.  I still do.  Although I am now facing another hurdle.  Being single for the first time in many years.  Not sure if that is a good thing or a bad one.    Oh, well.  I guess I will just have to deal with it and move on….

I’m feeling resilient.

 

 

An Englishwoman in India

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An Englishwoman in India

The Memoirs of Harriet Tytler

1828-1858

Edited by Anthony Sattin

Harriet wrote her memoirs when she was in her late 70’s.  She was a Victorian woman and represented her class and period well.

Her grandfather and uncle were prisoner’s of war in France under Napoleon.  Her grandmother and mother lived nearby for 15 years so the family could be together.   After the battle of Waterloo, they were released and returned to England.  That is where her mother met her father while he was on furlough from India.

Harriet was born in 1828 to a British military family in India.  At 11 years old, as was common practice at the time, she was shipped off to England with two younger siblings to continue her education.  When they landing in England their clothes were so outdated everybody laughed at them.  Her brother was immediately sent on to boarding school where two older brothers were waiting for him.  She and her sister lived with a family they had never met before for about a year, until her aunt came to collect them.  Her aunt was strict and cruel and Harriet hated every minute of her time there.

At seventeen she started her journey back to India to be reunited with her parents who she had not seen for 6 years.  She traveled by steamer and by land until she reached Aden just off the Red Sea.  The group traveling with her were friendly and she had a happy time.  At Aden she received a letter from her brother-in-law in India and feared her sister was sick.  It was worse, her father was dead.  When she finally reached Calcutta, there was nobody to meet her.  She saw her mother two weeks later only to discover that she was on her way back to England with the younger children.  Harriet was to stay with another aunt and uncle who was serving the in Punjab Campaign.

At 19, she met and married Robert Tytler, a Captain in the British Army who was also a widower with two children.

This woman did not have an easy life.

On May 11, 1857, she was living in Delhi, eight months pregnant with two small children at home.  That was the day of the Great Sepoy Mutiny.  The “Sepoy” was the Indian soldier serving in the British Army.

Harriet writes:

“It is wonderful to think how unanimous they were, Hindus and Mohammedans, in the one object of exterminating the hateful Christian in India.  On this occasion the Mohammedans and Hindus were one, their bitter antagonism to each other, which had always been our safeguard so far, was for the time overcome.  The gullible Hindus, two to one in each regiment, firmly believed Prithee Rai’s raj would return and then they would be masters of India.  The wily Mohammedans, who were using these poor deluded men as a cat’s paw, encouraged the belief, knowing all along that they would soon find their mistake, for the Mohammedan meant to reign by the edge of his sword, which would also be used to proselytize the poor idol worshippers.”

However Philip Mason notes in the Introduction: “Harriet, of course, like everyone else, has heard of the cartridges (smeared with pork and beef fat) but does not seem to have known that the original offensive cartridges were withdrawn (therefore confirming that the rumor was true).  Like every other young wife in India at the time, she thinks that the Mutiny was a deep-laid plot, instigated by the sons of the king and spread by wicked Muslims who played on the fears of the simple gullible Hindus.”

Harriet ran for her life that day.  She, pregnant, with her two children, 2 and 4 years old, eventually loaded themselves onto an already overloaded carriage and rode hard out of town.  Her husband riding back and forth checking on other people.  The carriage broke to pieces.  They found another one, it also broke down.  They ended up walking to the next outpost where luckily there was no uprising.

Eventually the British took back Delhi.  Harriet bore 10 children, 8 of whom lived, and spent the rest of her life an expat in India.  She died in 1907 at the age of 79.

 

Photo credit:  Richard Collier

Expat Alien

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Today I am happily re-posting a review of my book.  Maggie at FlyAwayHome was kind enough to share her thoughts.  Have a look at her blog and her book as well (it is a good one!)

 

With all the traveling I’ve been doing this summer, my blog is starting to resemble a travel blog. To mix things up, I thought I’d try writing a book review. I just finished reading a good book, so here goes…

If you’ve ever lived or simply dream of living in a foreign country, then Kathleen Gamble’s book Expat Alien: My Global Adventure, is for you. I was first introduced to Kathy and her well told stories of travel and adventure through her blog, also known as the Expat Alien. Kathy and I are two American girls who were both born in the fifties, but while I grew up on the steady shores of our homeland, she grew up wandering the world.

Click here to see the rest!

Book Excerpt

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Moscow 1993

I always checked the bulletin board at the US Embassy and one day I saw an ad for a position at the British Embassy.  I called them up and went in for an interview.   This was 1993 and there were still very few expats in Moscow.  The first guy I met used to live in Nigeria so we hit it off.  Then he drove me to the Commercial Section, as it was in a different building in a different part of town.  I met with three or four people over there.  They had just purchased a Windows computer and needed somebody to learn how to use it and to type letters, do formatting and transcribe dictation for them.  I could type and I had played around a bit on Windows so they hired me on the spot.  I don’t think Nicholas was too thrilled because they didn’t pay much, but I was excited to have a job.

My first pay from the Brits was all in 5 dollar bills!  What a wad I came home with!  I felt really rich.  I was paid in cash so we had money without having to write a check and any extra went to American Express in Moscow.

I enjoyed working with the Brits.  In some ways I think I felt more comfortable with them than the Americans as they immediately grasped my humor (or sarcasm). The British Embassy was on the river, directly opposite the Kremlin in an old, beautiful mansion.  However, I didn’t work there.  The Commercial Department was in a separate building on the other side of town.  I would get a ride in the morning from one of Nicholas’ drivers and then I would take the metro home.

Soon after I started, I went to a reception at the British Embassy and met Ann, the Princess Royale and her new husband, Commander Lawrence.  We all stood in groups (assigned “clumps”) in a semicircle and the Commander and the Ambassador’s wife (who was an American) started at one side and Princess Ann and the Ambassador started at the other so they spent about 2 or 3 minutes talking to each clump.  The Commander seemed a little nervous but he was nice and Ann had on a bright green straight silk skirt and a fuchsia silk top. She carried a black silk purse with matching black shoes and sported long white gloves.  She was prettier in person than in her pictures and was very relaxed and charming. We drank Pimms out on the lawn and it was lovely.

 

Note:  photo and story are about the old Embassy.  They have since built a new one.  Pretty different, eh?

The Launch

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Thank you all for your support and good wishes.  The day is finally here!!

Expat Alien, the book, is now available!!  Yay!!  Follow the link below.  Kindle will be up soon if it isn’t there already.

There is a lot going on here but I hope to get back to blogging soon.  In the meantime, I hope you enjoy the book!!

Cheers!

 

EXPAT ALIEN

My Global Adventures

By the time Kathleen was 18 she had lived on 5 continents. When she starts college in California, she experiences severe “reverse” culture shock.
She talks about traveling around Europe, seeing the sites from London to Athens, hiking up Swiss mountains, and living in Africa. She survived a plane crash, a coup d’etat in Burma, earthquakes in Mexico, driving through the Andes in Columbia and army ants in Nigeria. Her college peers talk about football games, high school proms and television shows she never heard of. She can’t relate to them at all and they think she is bragging about all the places she has been. It is like an alien landed in their dorm room talking about visiting the rings of Saturn.
Follow Kathleen on her journey through the ups and downs of being a Third Culture Kid.

The Book

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Alone, I am nothing.  I am made up of little pieces of the world.  Bits of many people and places.

When I was very little I lived in Burma and there was a small bridge not far from my house where I used to go play.  The whole world lived under that bridge and I controlled it.  I observed and reigned.  I never dared step in to that world, though.  It was too dangerous. I stayed on the outside with my nanny protecting me.

Writing a book is a gargantuan task.  It is one of the scariest things in the world.  Not only is there the fear of failure  –  “even if I do finish it, will anybody want to read it?”…. but, there is also the fear of losing a part of yourself.  Every writer must give a piece of themselves, a part of their soul.

Will it be enough?  Is it noteworthy?  Why is it necessary?  Somebody I know once told me it is a form of immortality.  All humans strive for immortality and writing is the way to achieve it.  Maybe.  But is that why we do it?   Really?

It might be a way to sort out all the things that get jumbled up in your brain.  People imagine stories and can’t stop thinking about them, or they have very intense experiences that need to be defused.  Maybe it is a form of therapy.  Maybe it is just a whim.

The only thing I ever really wanted to do was to write a book.  But I thought I would never be able to do it.  I was not a good writer.  I didn’t have any writing training.  I was sure to fail.  And yet, I started writing a journal just for myself.  I kept all my stories in my journal.  I rewrote them.  I expanded on them.  I wrote them again.  I read more books.  And then I decided, I would write my book.

Eighteen years ago I wrote my first draft.  Ha!  I read an article recently on how the more revisions you have the more you are apt to succeed.  I think I must have the most revisions ever.  This book and I have grown up together.  I have made peace with many things.  I have cried over many things.  I have been touched by many things.  I have learned many things.  And I have let go of many things.  It has grown and shrunk.  And I could probably go on revising it for many years to come.  But I will not.  It is done.

I am a Leo and August is my month.  Watch this space.

Writing

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I managed to get my hands on a copy of Hidden Immigrants by Linda Bell.  Just leafing through it I came upon this paragraph.  It describes me at the moment.  Working away.

 

Of Careers and Goals

Andy

I basically left home when I was 16 by going to boarding school.  From a very young age I traveled a lot by myself.  That was good.  But it prepared me to deal with loneliness too, and do things on my own.  But that can be good.  For instance, writing a book is a very lonely experience.

Linda Bell,  Hidden Immigrants