Feeling funny about France

Hi Guys,
Sorry for putting it under password protection for a few days but I wanted some particular family members to read this first. It is about a few simple facts of expat life. Part of it is that Seb and I realised that I am a housewife and will probably be a housewife for the next year or so.

As a way of explaining, my culture shock has been a bit like this scene with the unfortunate crab in Disney’s Little Mermaid, The more he tries to avoid those awkward horrible situations the more they chase him around:

Part of the point of that is, that I am now a housewife. There is no jobs available for me right now. Everytime I applied for a job I got treated like a specimen to CHOP APART. I realised I don’t speak enough french and unless you have a masters people barely look at you for employment. What “chopped” me more was that to even get a cleaning job I needed to apparently be a perfect French speaker.  So here I am doing something I had refused to even think about. Let alone consider.

Another part of the puzzle is France. It is Sebs home not mine. We live in his hometown too so everyone knows him. Everything is familiar for him, everything is expected and normal. For me I am the opposite of that in every way. I am Australian. Part of me felt a little foolish for my reactions, and left me worrying that in come cases I had overreacted.

After researching it I realised that I am fact a textbook example of moving overseas:
“What they, the foreign spouse, must learn to deal with is the loss of identity and the subsequent period of reshape and remodelling that ensues in the new environment.

As the trailing spouse leaves friends, family, a career path or an impassioned endeavour, priorities begin to shape shift and reordering them can become chaotic in its own right. Co-authors of “A Portable Identity”, relocation coaches Debra Bryson and Charise Hoge explain the phenomenon as a four stage process.

“The trailing spouse goes through several alterations: first, by the decision to move; second, by the actual departure from her home country; third, by the entry into the foreign country; and, finally, by the addition of new roles and relationships in her life overseas.”

This transition can result in feelings of resentment, disorientation, depression, boredom and extreme pessimism. When coupled with the problems of career abandonment, family issues, lack of support and difficulties in maintaining meaningful work the mental landscape of the trailing spouse can become very rocky indeed. “

My attitude right now is normal, I do really resent my situation right now, and that in turn makes me feel guilty and ashamed for feeling like that and then sad that it is happening. (maybe you can see a circle here like I can?)

An expatriate in Belgium describes it perfectly below.
“My support network was far away. I knew my friends and family loved and supported me, but I also knew they didn’t really understand what was wrong. How could they when I didn’t know myself?

The only person I had to talk to was Andrew. He would come stumbling in at the end of a long difficult day at work (saddled with his own stresses revolving around a new job) and just want to crash on the couch – the couch that still had the impression of my butt from sitting there all day long. I would be raring to go somewhere or do something – anything.

And I wanted to talk – and talk and talk, because I hadn’t talked to another soul all day (unless you count the cats who were frankly bored of my nattering and aren’t the greatest conversationalists.) Andrew just wanted to unwind from work, watch a little TV; read his book. It was a recipe for arguments – lots of them”

I can add to this much more and in so many ways. What is above is merely a basic vague summary. But at least I know I am normal. I am praying for that sixth month to arrive. As much as I have read, people start to get comfortable at six months.

I am a housewife. But here is where that remodelling comes in. I have never been able to sit down and take time to work out what I like to do the most. Part of it too means that like that little crab I may get away just in the nick of time to live on the shore but still survive.

Hope it gave some of you guys hope.
Nik

xxx

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Loosing your mobile phone when moving overseas

Yes,
I did it. More masterful than a masterchef. I lost my mobile a week before moving overseas. Smart cookie aren’t I? And I did it on the day when I planned to book all my last minute things in before I go. BTW to top it off it is in fact a broken mobile that I dearly love.

It’s a wonder I am surviving. I learnt my DOM (dependance on mobile) off a Class A professional: My husband. That thing, better called an Iphone is glued to his hand with cement (Superglue wasn’t good enough). Including into this his DOT(dependance on technology). The particular DOM with his Iphone really topped of my cake. DOT and DOM for me are generally frustrating to say the lease. But really he is french, he is man and therefore he loves gadgets and technology.

Me? I am very nearly a technophobe. To the point it is nearly like green eggs and ham. Normally I would be quite proud to go without the phone. In fact I fell IN LOVE with the book The Winter of Our Disconnect, to the point that I am not wanting a TV in the loungeroom. Much to my husbands distress.

In France I am known as a hopeless phone user except when it comes to the game app flight control which I deliberatly learnt to piss off the husband by beating his score. However my dependance comes from the convienience of a phone call, to shop around, to find out if you are home and just the whole normal communication thing.

So instead I have considered my options to amazing points.

  1. I could turn on my French mobile in Australia and rack up some hefty phone bills in response to the horrible loss of an already broken Aussie phone.
  2.  I could try to buy some skype dollars and call around. But that seems like too much effort.
  3. I could email the people I want information for. Which I did concerning my lost mobile.
  4. I could actually physically go to the shops in person. AMAZING IDEA ISN’T it?

So right now I am signing off and venturing into that scary world. It actually isn’t too hard it’s just a pain in the ass cos it takes so much more time.

a bientot (see ya!)
mignonne (me)

So far so good

Hey everyone,

I’ll give everyone a proper update in the next week about the Visa process for Australian’s going to France, which I promise has more drama than the Bold and Beautiful.

I officially have my Visa in hand. In my passport which has currently been sleeping on my desk since I got it back. I have been too scared to even take the visa to a friends house to show because I am scared I will loose my passport.

I haven’t finished packing but am about to start sorting the last of my odd bits and pieces which includes packing my suitcase and the boxes… GOD I HAVE SO MUCH CRAP THAT I AM THROWING OUT! And so many books that I refuse to be without. When Sebastien wants to cheer me up he literally takes me to a bookshop! Its like bookporn, that’s how much I love books.

Sebastien and I as usual are fighting like cats and dogs. This is the usual process of arrivals. We are a very easy cycle to read. While together we have our ups and downs like every couple. Apart it reads like so…

First phase: Missing the other person like you have lost a limb and or your bestfriend to cancer. I am morbid, cry a lot and generally eat too much chocolate.
Middle phase: Addicted to skype, man hater in general except for the lovely Sebastien. Starting to focus on getting healthy. Starting to appreciate my girly time and making an effort to not let myself go.
Last phase: Being so excited and frustrated at the same time, because you are both so close but so far away. Fighting like cats and dogs. Drinking a lot with mates and partying hard.

Other than that I am preparing to visit my Mumma in the Outback just before I go. Get a real taste of Australia before I leave in the hope that it puts off my homesickness just a little bit longer. And yes I know I will get homesick. I am not pretending this is a holiday. I am going there to live. I already have a mild distrust of French people. You can thank some ex-female friends of Sebastien for that. It’s also the language barrier and the culture that decieves you. You think you understand it. And then BAM! It slaps you in the face for getting too comfortable.

Anyway this packing will not do itself.

Talk Soon

Nik