Ob-la-di, Ob-la-da

OB-LA-DI, OB-LA-DA, life goes on......or so says the popular Beatles tune.  These familiar lyrics are an apt description of our lives and the lives of other military families whose careers require regular relocation:  we know each move is temporary before we even have our official orders in hand, our time in the job has an end date from the moment we start, and once we leave the cycle will repeat itself both for us and the people replacing us then for the people after us and them and so on into perpetuity.  We know we have a limited amount of time in which we can put our mark on our new position before someone else comes in and tries to do it even better.  That is simply the way it is.  So yes, life does go on after we are no longer here.

Today is my first day of not working since I started my job in August 2011. At the moment I'm waiting for our packers to arrive rather than sitting in what I still think of as my office.  I may not be there but I'm sure the usual Monday morning hum is continuing without me just as it did with my predecessor and the one before her.  From the moment I first sat down at my desk on that hot August morning, I knew the job was only temporary.  Time is relative but because I was in the position for longer than most people, I was able to spend the first two years focusing on my actual job rather than thinking about what would happen "after".  But in the past few months that "after" came creeping up on me like an unspoken cloud hanging over my head.  Soon I found myself sitting in meetings and planning sessions talking and thinking about things that would only take place after my departure.  As my mind drifted during particularly long or arduous meetings I found myself wondering whether or not I even cared.  At first I did, but later I didn't and simply tried to feign interest in the subject at hand.  Until I couldn't any longer.  By mid-December I may have physically been present but mentally I was checking out.

But now, none of any of this matters any more. For better or worse we've left our mark on this place and our replacements have arrived, are settling in, and we are already being forgotten--which is a good thing.  We're moving on to our next post where we can start this process all over again.  And the process of starting over will happen here as well, like it has before us and will long after us.

So,

 OB-LA-DI, OB-LA-DA, life goes on, brah!

Lala how life goes on....

OB-LA-DI, OB-LA-DA, life goes on, brah!

Lala how the life goes on.

How Many Ways Can You Say Goodbye?

Saying goodbye is rarely easy.  I've known this for some time and am being reminded of it again as we enter our final weeks here and are saying farewell to the many wonderful people we've met over the past two plus years.  As has been the case with all of our moves, we've known our time was limited since the moment we stepped foot on our Albanian roller coaster.  We've watched people arrive after us and even more depart.  Some of their farewells have been bittersweet while others have been just plain hard.  All the while we've known our time was coming and suddenly, that time is now.

But actually it began a few weeks ago.  One by one farewell events have been popping up on our calendars making us realize just how many people we have met here in Albania.  Lunches and dinners with both individuals and large groups are being planned.  More than one reception is planned as well.  We are hosting some of these events ourselves while others are being held in our honor.  This morning friends hosted a farewell brunch for me with the entire American Embassy family.  I was touched by the outpouring of people who gave up their Saturday morning to come and say goodbye.  I survived without shedding any tears but there were moments when I came close.  I was reminded that I have met some truly wonderful people here in Tirana.  But this morning was just the tipping point.  From here on out we have at least one farewell event scheduled for every evening until we depart.  Some days we have lunches scheduled as well.  Sure we will be physically busy saying goodbye to so many people but it will be emotionally draining as well.  While some people are professional acquaintances others are true friends.  As much as we are ready to leave, severing some of these ties is turning out to be harder than I had anticipated.  And it is a reminder that no matter how many times you do it, saying goodbye is very hard indeed.  Before it is all over I am sure a tear or two will fall.

So in the languages of everyone we are saying goodbye to, farewell, arrivederci, adios, lamtumirë, pożegnanie, au revoir, auf wiedersehen, la revedere, свидания, αντίο, 见, afscheid............. 

Explaining Change

It has happened millions of times the world over but this is the first time we've been faced with having the conversation. What conversation you ask?  The one with our almost four year old where we need to help him understand that in a few short months we will be packing up and moving to a totally new country and he will leave behind so much of the world that is familiar to him.  This isn't the first time we've moved since Sidney was born. In fact, we moved when he was just a few months old then again when we came to Albania a little over a year later. But this impending move will be different since it will be the first one where he both remembers where we're coming from and will remember where we are going.  And because of his strong attachment to his Albanian life, I'm unsure as to how to go about preparing for it and explaining it all.

Early next year the movers will arrive at our house to pack up all of our worldly belongings and ship them off to Belgium.  With the crates will go Sidney's toys, clothing, and books; the very physical items that provide him with daily comfort.  For a little boy who has thrived in his current environment, life as he knows it will be changing in a big way.  He will be leaving behind his dear Nene, the woman who has been like a grandmother to him and has cared for him since the moment we arrived in Albania.  He only knows one house, (perhaps better than we do), he knows "his" playground and his street and no other.  While we've done a lot of traveling, we always return to our home and surroundings that are familiar to Sidney.  When we land in our new, semi-permanent home, we will be in a completely foreign environment. (Literally and physically).  Sidney's daily routine will change as he will be attending school for the first time where he will initially know no one and the students and teachers will speak neither English nor Albanian.  He will be brought home at the end of the day in a new car to a new house filled with new furniture (or at least furniture that is new to him).  It will all be so foreign to him that I wonder how I can help him understand what is happening.

Like the obsessive and book loving mother I am, I've purchased age appropriate reading material on the subject.  In these books, the Berenstain Bears are both moving to a new home and attending school for the first time.   While I wait for them to arrive in the mail, I have started to talk about these impending changes with Sidney and he isn't happy about it.  One of Sidney's playmates for the past two years recently left Post.  We've been using this as a learning tool and when Sidney asks about his friend we explain that he moved with his family to a new home and soon, our family will be doing the same.  To provide comfort I've assured him that we will be together as a family; or "just the three of us" as he likes to say.  This doesn't sit well with him and Sidney has informed me on numerous occasions that not only does he want his friend to come back to Tirana but that Sidney doesn't want to move.  When I've brought up getting to pick out new furniture to go in his new room (yes, I'm stooping to bribes here), he has informed me that he wants his current (Embassy owned) bed.  The prospect of making new friends at school is met with a proclamation that he likes his friends here.  (And I haven't even mentioned the part about all of this being done in French......).  Because Sidney loves flying on airplanes I've talked up that experience of flying to get to Belgium and promised him that we can stay in a hotel when we arrive. Hotels are another thing he loves but I have omitted the fact that we will be staying in one for two months or so.  Sidney is excited about flying and staying in a hotel but also says that when we come back home (Albania) he will be able to tell Nene all about it. Ugh!  

I'm hoping these books can help Sidney understand and accept our impending move in a way I just can't explain.  Or, perhaps, they can at least help make these next few months less painful.  I know change is hard; adults struggle with it so I can only imagine what goes through the mind of a four year old.  I feel helpless and fear that the only thing I can do---reassure Sidney about the changes--- just isn't enough.  Because children are incredibly resilient I know Sidney will be OK but I wish there was a way I could make this process easier for him.  After all, as a "Navy brat" this won't be his last childhood move.  I can only hope it gets easier.

Until We Meet Again

No matter how many times I do it, saying goodbye to dear friends never gets easier.  I suppose I should be used to it by now but I'm not.  And as is the case all too often, today I said goodbye to a dear friend here in Tirana.  I know it really isn't goodbye since we will definitely see each other again but her departure means that things are changing, our relationship is changing, and life as I know it in Tirana is changing.  For me, this is all really hard.

We met over two years ago during my first days in Albania.  It was a very hot June day and despite still being jet lagged, with Sidney in tow, I attended my first together of fellow military attache spouses.  For some unknown reason I had been told that none of the wives spoke a lot of English so I should be prepared to speak Albanian.  (In hindsight it is really the opposite; most speak at least some English and very little, if any, Albanian).  Now my Albanian wasn't that great so on the walk to the cafe I practiced sentences I both felt comfortable with and those that would be appropriate getting to know you topics.  By the time I arrived I felt confident that I could do this.  But when I turned to the woman sitting next to me and addressed her in Albanian I was met with a blank stare and asked in perfect English whether or not I spoke the language.  Surprised and relieved I stammered yes and we proceeded to converse in English.  And so began our friendship.

Since that hot day our friendship has grown.  We've shared long lunches (meals that are even considered to be long by European standards) and attended more than our fair share of official receptions.  We've sat through too many garbled dinner toasts and speeches and tried to identify plates of mystery meat together.  (She taught me that claiming to be a vegetarian is always a safe decision).  Together we've witnessed various forms of traditional Albanian dance and music as well as Albanian interpretations of western classics.  We've discussed everything from pop culture to world politics and have both broadened our horizons because of it.  Over time our husbands have become friends and joined into our little mix.  Meals with just the four of us are some of my fondest Albanian memories and after two years I think we've finally convinced them that Americans have no business selecting the wine.  We've traveled together:  from questionable hotel accommodations in Macedonia, to exploring the island of Corfu and most recently a celebratory girl's trip involving lots of food and wine to Madrid, we've created lasting memories that I will treasure forever.

Some people think the nomadic diplomatic life is glamorous but I haven't found that to always be the case.  For every unique opportunity we've had, it has been countered with an unsettling challenge or demand.  All too often our time isn't our own but we must muddle through and find the balance that works for us. I've discovered that this is the case regardless of which country you hail from and having had this dear friend here has made this entire experience infinitely easier.  We've shared personal and professional frustrations and disappointments, joys and celebrations.  We both had successful, full fledged careers prior to meeting our globe trotting military husbands so we have commiserated together about just how hard it is to be a trailing spouse.  She has been my reality and sanity check here in Tirana and has set me straight when I start to go awry.  She gets it and understands and for that I am grateful.  And for all of these reasons, and many more, I am going to miss her so.

But this isn't goodbye.  As I said before, we will see each other again.  Weekly lunches may be a thing of the past but this just means that our next lunch will have to be longer than usual.  Because our family will be remaining in Europe for another three years I know that I will visit her in her home and she will visit me in Belgium.  (However, no matter what I say or do, I can't convince her to return to Albania to visit me before we depart).  However, I know there will be more girls weekends and I'm already compiling a list of destinations.

So dear friend, fair winds and following seas until we meet again.  Come visit (in Albania or Belgium) and I promise you a few laughs,  properly chilled wine waiting and clean slippers by the door.