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3/17/2013

There are days...

... when you feel like giving up; when you feel like you could move mountains to succeeed; when you actually have no idea what you are doing.

Being far away from "home" obliges you to define what "home" is and prioritize thinsg in a much more intense way than you expected when you left. You look at events through a different filter, from the elections in your home country to the birth of your friend's first child.

The economic crisis in Europe tells you in bright letters that you are doing good where you are: this is an emotionless fact, easy to calculate, simple to digest. On the other hand you get waves of news in your face, sometimes even a tsunami of updates that make you feel weak, strong, powerless, excited. Surfing these waves of emotions is never fun, mainly because you are so far from where they come from that you don't even know how to hold a hand, how to feel useful, how to progress.

Yes, i know i wrote earlier that I do feel closer to some now that I have left. This is the core of the paradox. You're there but you're not here. It's so good but it hurts at the same time. You count days but you see time pass at another speed.

So you, people "at home", be gentle with us. We know your everyday life can be hard, grey, complex. Just do not believe that because we live in the constant sun, or because we have a complete different lifestyle, our everyday life is shiny and obviously simple at all time. We fight like you, we struggle like you, but we do keep our heads up as you would at home.

Same same, but different.

3/11/2013

tic toc tic toc

This noteis not an expat post per se, but isn't this page a diary as well, disregarding if i am a housewife or not?

The past weeks have been hyperactive, the past days have been tensed.

On the one hand i've realized that my work profile, as strange and original it might look like, is good and is under the radar of some people. I have met extremely interesting people, My brain has started smoking in response to questions, suggestions, advice, ideas, and I know I am looking the right direction, with the right tools in my hands.

On the other hand I know other things matter more, and that life never makes things simple for anyone. The clock is ticking, and i anxiously stare at the phone. Searching a job is a month- or even a year- or life-long perspective; life sometimes makes you look at your future from one day to another, from one night to the other.

You only live once - yet make sure you know what you are living for.

3/05/2013

*sigh again*

Sending condolences messages to beloved ones for the second time in less than a week is no fun.

What feels better however is to know that the two departed have closed their eyes surrounded by their family, to quote one relative, "in a bubble of love".

I made the maid cry

Last week i made the maid cry.
 
For you who do not speak DXB, a maid is a great combo of cleaning lady, baby sitter, grocery shopping, au pair, and whatever else you would need to run your house properly. If you consider that the architecture of a house or an apartment takes into account this very local need by including a "maid room" and "maid bathroom", you can guess how important this person is for the society.

Some households have a full-time maid at home as "almost part of the family" (heard in the CDG airport "yes we go on holidays together, she takes care of the kids while we rest, but it's just not the same"); some on the other hand, like us, ask a maid to come and help clean the apartment once in a while.

It took me some time to understand the concept and have someone  come and clean my dishes, iron my shirt, vacuum my dust. After the past years living in a Scandinavian country, and partly on my own, I have been used to take care of myself and deal with my stuff, and i have troubles accepting that someone fixes the stuff that I have messed up. But after a few times, i have admitted that this is nice to come to a freshly clean apartment without having even moved a finger.

Since i moved in June, i have also met a few girls and boys and even developed a certain preference towards a few. I have been asked each time if i'm married, if i'm a housewife, and if i'm pregnant = the most relevant reasons for a woman to be home on working hours. Yes i am married, yes i work (or at list worked), no i am not pregnant. But yes if you are nice i might consider you to keep the baby when necessary.

Last week i met a new girl. Very sweet, very shy, she apologized couple of times for asking questions and checking if what she was doing was right. Previously working as cleaning lady in hospitals, she wasn't used to help in private apartments. Actually she even did not like it, she said, "because from one place to another you don't really know what to expect and how people will be". She apologized when someone called her on the phone, she thanked me even more when i gave her a Coke to drink.

 Before leaving, she filled the usual receipt from the maid company, for my signature. I always leave a comment on the paper, knowing that it will most probably be reviewed by the manager, and who knows, it might affect her employment there. I signed, I paid, I gave her her well deserved tip and a bunch of English magazines that would end up in the bin otherwise. Then she looked at the receipt, and she started crying in front of me.

I had written "very good service".

She apologized for crying, and hugged me. As it was a first i got fairly surprised and asked what was going on: "you wrote I did a good work, and I am so happy about it. It makes me happy because when I read this, I completely forget that I am tired and that it is not easy". And she hugged me again in a great crying smile. In 2 sentences she just broke my heart. After she left i sat down for a few minutes, pretty brainless.

Since January I've been looking for a job, and my personal situation, both socially and financially, allows me to be demanding in my choices. I find myself fairly simple, but I do not count the dirhams in my pocket to get extra caramel on my latte macchiato. I sometimes wonder how much tip I should leave at the restaurant, and I do not care much of the "ma'm/sir" anymore. But this girl slapped my ethical choices efficiently, reminding them that life here, as a Western housewife, is not real, not the reality that I want.

Last week i made the maid cry.

3/03/2013

*sigh*

Being away, it's also dealing on an everyday basis  with this feeling of guilt that you home might have troubles to understand. Yes, i left for certain reasons, I do not regret it and take full responsibility. But please, do not tell me that "being there, home, would make things easier to handle". Being home does not contradict the fact that you also might feel powerless and therefore guilty.

Physical distance means that I sometimes feel far away from my relatives, my friends, who experience a shit load of troubles. I look from far far away at them, sometimes worried, sometimes nodding in front of brave behaviours. I hope they know I will always be there for them. I admire them, I just regret they cannot physically place their head on my shoulder to rest, even for a few seconds.

To my dear friend (if by any chance you've ever come around), you might recognize yourself in my words. I miss you, I admire you, I pray for you.

Life's a bitch.