It Is Finally Official.....

.................or as official as it will be until we are physically there.  After months of waiting we have our next set of written orders in hand.  Come January, the Brown family will be heading to Mons, Belgium for three years. 

This is the season for the moving game, or PCSing, a.k.a. permanent change of station, as it is known in military lingo, and it is something military (and foreign service) families are all too familiar with.  You are barely settled in one location before you are putting out feelers for your next set of orders.  A friend of mine once likened the process to on-line dating.  You research what is out there and what is the best fit for you (and your family)then make your wishes known hoping someone likes you back. Sometimes it works out but other times it doesn't.  It can be an opportunity for positive change---if you don't like where you are or don't like your job, you aren't committed to it in the longer term-- but it can also be upsetting and tumultuous for all those involved.  Spouses may have to quit jobs, children may be removed from friends and schools they love, and social networks are often shattered.  When we were in Norfolk we were fortunate that Glenn was able to move from one job to another without our family having to actually pick up and move.  This pattern continued for several job rotations meaning we kept our house, I had continuous employment, and we kept our every growing circle of close friends, but most people aren't so fortunate.  More often than not, every two to three years families are packing up, house hunting, and moving half way across the country or even the world and re-establishing themselves before staring the process all over again.  This is the game we knowingly jumped into when we decided we were ready to move beyond Norfolk.

It wasn't long after we arrived here in Albania that we began asking ourselves what was next.  Sure we would be here for two years (which stretched into two and one half) but it is never too early to start thinking about and exploring what could come next.  Initially we thought another embassy tour might be in order or more likely a return to the States since Sidney would be starting school and I could return to work but the longer we were overseas, the more the "European bug" got us and we decided we wanted to stay here.  Not in Albania per se, but in Europe in general.  At first it looked like Germany was in our future and I dutifully began researching houses, school, and family life there. It all sounded good and I was getting excited.  Then we were told that it would be Belgium, an option we had never even considered but were even happier with yet I hesitated to do too much research before the move was definite.  After all, we had been down this route before and I didn't want to get my hopes up too much lest I be disappointed in the end. 

Just to demonstrate how far in advance some of these moves can be planned, the family that was set to replace us had been identified and was asking us questions about the country before we even arrived in Albania.  This advanced planning isn't always the case, however.  In fact, it rarely is.  I know several people who are supposed to PCS this summer who are still awaiting their official orders in writing. I know that in this era of budget cuts, sequestration, and all around cost cutting we are lucky to have orders in hand seven months before our move date.  Verbal orders are fine but until you have that ream of paper in your hot little hands, you can't plan the things that really matter. These orders are really your passport to your next life since you can't house hunt, register your children for their new school, or schedule your move without them.  And we now have them!

As I said earlier, it will all be real once we land in Belgium.  In the meantime, however, I have schools to research, houses to hunt for, and the next three years to plan out.  As difficult as it can be to pick up and move, the possibilities of what the future holds for us are too exciting to resist.  And I can't wait for what is in store for us.

Back to Class

I recently returned to class to improve my ability to speak Albanian.  My goal is to speak better than my three year old.  You would think that after sixteen months of "language immersion" my grasp of the Albanian language would have improved. Not so for me; if anything my ability to speak this difficult language has only gotten worse since we arrived here.  So how has this happened?

Prior to moving to Albania I had the opportunity to spend a total of nine months learning Albanian.  Always the eager student, I was excited to learn that not only was the U.S. Navy going to pay for my language lessons but I would have my own tutor with one-on-one lessons geared towards the vocabulary that I wanted to learn.  Although it was  discouraged by our program, I did have the option of attending class with Glenn.  I opted not to since we are very different students and I really didn't want, or need, to learn the same words and conversational topics that he was required to become proficient in. (Besides, coming off of an eight month deployment that followed a year of ship workups would have just been too much together time for this couple).  Even trying to practice speaking with Glenn at home was painful; he couldn't understand a word I was saying, I would become horribly frustrated and feel like a failure and the pained looks on both of our faces was doing nothing to improve our marriage.

I thought I was prepared for what lay ahead but my mind was literally swimming in confusion after my first afternoon class at ICA.  Not only is it much harder to go back to school as an adult, but four hours of one-on-one language instruction is intense.  Really intense.  In typical Balkan fashion, the Albanian language is unlike any other.  Indo-European with Greek and Latin influences, I found this foreign language with its own alphabet and grammatical cases that don't even exist in English to be a hurdle I could barely cross.  I kept thinking it would get easier but day after day I stumbled to the Metro mentally exhausted and questioning the journey we had embarked upon.  Somehow, as the weeks turned into months I developed my own routine of going to class, caring for an infant who still relied on middle of the night feedings, trying to put dinner on the table each evening, planning my college reunion, preparing to move our family overseas, and yes, doing a bit of studying.  Sometimes I think it is no wonder that I never became as proficient as I had originally imagined I would.

I went through several instructors before I finally found one I clicked with. When we first met, her English was minimal and my Albanian was even less fluent so our class sessions often resembled Pictionary games.  Thanks to the white board, Google Translate and a lot of patience and even more laughs we powered through.  Slowly I reached the point where I could carry on basic conversations. If it involved talking about family, shopping for groceries, or discussing weekend plans, I felt proficient.  Not fluent, but proficient.  I knew my numbers, days of the week, and I could ask for directions.  Listening to news clips on the Internet still left me lost but I could read and understand most news articles.  I assumed that once I arrived in Albania my language skills would only improve.  At least I hoped they would.

Once in Albania I immediately I found out that many people- especially those in Tirana- spoke English.  Their English might not be great but it was better than my Albanian.  English is the common language spoken within the Attache Corp.  Within this international group, those that don't speak English don't speak Albanian either.  Most of the Albanians we socialized with had spent time in the United States which meant their entire families had stronger grasps of English than I did Albanian.  Everyone working at the Embassy is supposed to speak English so my opportunities to speak the language during the work day were limited.  Shopping at local street markets proved challenging since the Albanian dialects were spoken so quickly I just couldn't comprehend what was being said before the conversation moved on.  And I soon found out, there is a big difference between a 40 Leke (40 cents) loaf of bread and a 4000 Leke ($40.00) loaf.

Surprisingly enough, I've found that I must seek out opportunities to speak this country's mother tongue.  Through daily interactions with people in the community I've mastered the pleasantries of greeting and saying good bye to people.  If I think about it in advance I can carry on a basic conversation but if I get asked follow up questions, the conversation quickly grinds to a stop--or switches to English.  In restaurants I will try to order in Albanian but more often than not my requests are met with looks of confusion and a clarification of my order by fingers pointing at the poorly translated English version of the menu.  At the local market I can carry on basic conversations about the weather, fresh produce, and the like but anything more substantive is lost on me.  Our nanny doesn't speak any English and while I can converse enough to discuss Sidney's needs and daily activities, I must rely on my trusty dictionary---and increasingly Sidney himself---for anything more complex.  I am so proud of the fact that Sidney's grasp of Albanian far exceeds mine.  Of course it is a bit embarrassing to have a three year old translate for me.  If nothing else, this is what has inspired me to go back to Albanian class.

So once a week I now sit down with the Embassy's language instructor for an hour of one-on-one Albanian conversation.  We talk about everything- life, family, work, the weather.  Anything that may come up in daily conversation. We discuss what I did during the weekend to practice the past tense.  We talk about upcoming plans to practice the future tense.  After four hour sessions this one hour flies by.  By being forced to speak and think in Albanian I'm realizing that I do know, and remember, more than I give myself credit for.  Maybe something from all of those hours back in Rosslyn has stayed with me after all.  I also realize that I just need to practice.  At a minimum I'm doing this once a week but in reality I need to do this every day.  So watch out Tirana, I'll be speaking more Albanian now.  Please excuse my poorly spoken Albanian.