Names & Faces

You know you have settled into a community when you begin to readily recognize people. Its a comforting feeling; no longer is everyone you see a stranger, rather you are all a part of the same community. But simply recognizing someone doesn't mean you know them. Even after you begin to greet them when you see them, do you really know them if you don't know their name?

Right now we are living in a diverse but relatively small community. Where ever I go I immediately recognize the people I see and I can categorize them into where I know them from. There is the staff at the post office, the clerks at the store and even the gate guards who check my ID each time I drive by. There are the people who hit the gym each morning at the same time I do; the moms who shop on base immediately after dropping their kids off at school and the people who stop by the cafe for coffee each afternoon before picking their children up. And of course there are the parents, mostly moms again, who I recognize from Sidney's school and soccer team. I can recognize most of them by the class their child attends and if they are one of Sidney's class or teammates I know them as that child's mom. With this group I am known as "Sidney's mom". (All this makes me wonder whether we all follow the same schedule!). But do I know their names? For the most part no.....It is all strangely anonymous but not really.

I'd been pondering this not knowing any one's name issue for awhile. First, I'm horrible when it comes to remembering names so even if I've heard it once I'm likely to forget it. Second, after talking to someone on a daily basis (fellow moms for example) it feels awkward to months later, as, someone what their name is. Sometimes Glenn and I will serve as each other's foil with one of us introducing ourselves to someone the other knows yet doesn't know their name. But inevitably we all quickly return to being known quasi-anonymous as so-and-so's parent.

But last week something changed. Like I said, I pass the same people each day as I go about my routine. I was at the post office and walked passed a fellow American mom who I see just about every morning and afternoon. We both smiled at each other but then as I passed her she stopped and introduced herself telling me that she saw me everywhere but didn't know my name. Here I was feeling the very same thing but she took the step to change all of that. We made our introductions then went along our way (with my repeating her name to myself several times so that I wouldn't forget it). Since that interaction I've seen her just about every day and we now greet each other not only with a smile but an acknowledgement using our names. As simple as it is, it feels so much nicer.

And her initiative has now spurred one of my own. At a minimum of once a week (I do need to remember all of the names after all), I am going to make it my mission to actually introduce myself by name to someone I see regularly and inquire about their own as well. I've already done it twice and I am now able to refer to people by their names rather than as the mom of Sidney's classmate ______. I wish I had started doing this sooner since my already small community is suddenly feeling cozier and more friendly than it was before. I love it. Now I can't promise that I am going to remember every one's name but I'm going to give it my best shot.

A Fish Out Of Water

Recently I've been feeling a bit like a fish out of water. I feel like I'm in limbo and don't really have a community to call my own. Maybe its because we recently moved (if you can call five months ago recent) and I have yet to find my niche. But as I look around me I find myself wondering just what my new "community" will be. Atypical of most military postings, there isn't a spouse group associated with Glenn's command. Add in the fact that I'm not working and Sidney attends a school without a PTA or other parent's group where I could easily meet my peers, and I'm actually finding it quite difficult to meet like minded people. Because from where I'm sitting, I really don't see a whole lot of people like me. That's not to say that I need to be surrounded by people like myself; rather I want to find at least a few people with whom I share similar interests and values.

I've had civilian friends tell me that by being a part of a military community I must be surrounded by people like myself. In a superficial sense this is true; we are all families who get uprooted every few years, understand than most the true costs of your country being at "war", and therefore can offer support to one another. This is most often the case. But just as our country is diverse, so is our military. Ethnically, spiritually, politically and yes, socio-economically we have variety. Add in the fact we are in an international military environment and the current level of diversity surrounding me so that much greater. Amidst all of this I'm finding myself feeling quite alone.

The American footprint here in Mons is much smaller than I expected and from what I've experienced, it is nothing like the close group of friends we've had at other duty stations. I feel as though the American community here is younger, more openly Christian and a lot more conservative than I am comfortable with. Now I'm not begrudging anyone their individual freedom to be open about these qualities but to be honest, they just aren't qualities I am comfortable with. I keep telling myself that there have to be fellow Americans here whose beliefs are more closely aligned to mine but I have yet to find them. I'm looking though.

And then there is the international community whom I do feel more comfortable around. Despite my inability to speak French in a meaningful way I find the greatest pleasure in interacting with them. Whether it be fellow parents at Sidney's school or Belgians in the community, this is where I am more comfortable. But I have yet to make a strong connection with anyone. But again, I'm looking.

And if I keep looking I'm eventually going to find what I'm looking for. Right? So, friend wanted. Must be socially and culturally open minded, enjoy good food and even better wine, have a spirit for adventure and love to explore. Parents of young children optional but a bonus. Any takers?

Home.....Sweet Home?

Here are a few pictures of the place we will call home for the next few months:

Our "master" bedroom

My kitchen (sob, sob, sob)

and Sidney's bedroom/our living room/dining room/study

Yesterday we arrived at our temporary (for the next two to three months) home at Chievers Army Lodge in Belgium which, from what I've seen so far, is little more than a few buildings in the middle of a whole lot of fields. Because we have a child we are entitled to a family suite which is really just a hotel room with a microwave and two hot plates. It makes me shudder to think that this is considered a spacious room and I am wondering how the much larger families I've seen are packing into their compact spaces. But we were also fortunate enough to get the key to one of the few storage cages which is allowing us to store our suitcases and other items that don't fit in our room. (Apparently these storage cages are coveted so we are lucky to get one).

No sooner had we arrived and checked in then I set to work making our space "homey." Suitcases were unpacked and stowed in the a fore mentioned storage cage. Closet and dresser space was allotted and a home was found for Sidney's toys. We made a quick run to the nearby commissary to shop for a few essentials to get us started. It has been a long time since I was in an American grocery store and I found myself wandering the aisles in amazement at what I saw. Some items I didn't even recognize and other brands had introduced new flavors that were completely foreign to me. I felt like a fish out of water. Upon reaching the checkout I was greeted with sticker shock--yes Zosia you are no longer in Albania. Our few items cost more than a week's worth of groceries in Albania.

Back "home" life took on a very normal routine. Groceries were crammed into our one cabinet, the refrigerator was immediately overflowing, and two loads of laundry were done in the stackable washer and dryer at the end of the hallway. Once we mastered the microwave, dinner consisted of Stouffer's macaroni and cheese for the little one and Chinese rice bowls for the adults washed down with tepid German beer that hadn't yet had the chance to chill completely. Following dinner Glenn washed our three dishes one at a time filling both the sink and the drainer as he did so. The routine felt like home but with the added bonus of breakfast served to us buffet style downstairs each morning and daily maid service.

Obviously we are not living in the lap of luxury but we will survive. After all, this is a part of the fun and adventure of being a military family; every few years you pack up and relocate never being quite sure of what you will encounter. Sometimes it will be fancy and other times less so; some moves are a breeze while others are a struggle. If nothing else this experience will make us really appreciate our new house once we move in. But in reality, for me home is where the heart is so as long as I am with my family that is home enough for me. So yes, this is home sweet home (until we pick up and do it all over again).

Transiting Through Change

Explaining why the Cozy Coupe was covered
in bubble wrap was just the beginning.  

As I predicted, this has been a rough week for us.  With our long procession of farewells behind us, we have now left Albania and are in the midst of transitioning into our new life.  With a little over a week before Glenn needs to check in with his new command, we are taking time to travel a bit, relax a lot and most importantly, spend time together as a family.  We've ridden on airplanes and stayed in two different hotels leading Sidney to believe that we are in the middle of another family vacation.  But this isn't vacation, this is our new life and helping my little four year old understand this is proving to be harder than I imagined.

We've been talking to Sidney about the big move for some time with mixed results.  At first he was resistant, proclaiming that he didn't want to move and didn't want to go to school; at one point he even suggested that daddy move for his job and the two of us remain in Albania.  (Sorry son, but that just wasn't going to happen).  Gradually Sidney seemed to move towards acceptance and even showed a bit of excitement at the prospect of a new house, a new car, and new friends.  But I knew we weren't out of the woods just yet.

We tried to keep the house as normal as possible in the weeks leading up to the move by not removing pictures from the walls or stacking boxes in plain sight.  But when the movers arrived with their piles of boxes, bubble wrap, and packing tape, the reality began to sink it.  Simultaneously curious and angry, Sidney followed them from room to room, watching what they were doing and shyly asking a lot of "why" questions.  Being Albanians, they were wonderfully patient and answered each of his questions.  However, their answers didn't please Sidney any more than mine did.  And when it came time to actually pack up Sidney's playroom, it was just too much for my little boy to bear.  There were so many tears and fits of anger, denial that we were moving, and unwillingness to be a part of the process. Ever so patiently Glenn and I would try to redirect him, showing him how much fun the boxes could be to play with, explaining that opening them in our new home would be like opening presents (as someone who has unpacked too many times in my life, I can only dream that this will really be the case), and talking about all of the fun the three of us would have together.   We even talked about the number of plane rides we would take and how we would be able to ride trains all of the time when we reach our new destination.  These distractions would momentarily work but all too soon the tears would return.  For every two steps forward, there was one backwards.  Just when I thought he was OK with his items being packed up, a favorite bag of toy airplanes which were meant to be hand carried, got boxed up.  Fortunately the movers were quick to open the box and rescue them but the whole experience seemed to add to Sidney's anxiety.

A make-shift bed because if "Sidney is in
the suitcase mamma can't pack it."

And then there was the nanny factor.  Having watched Sidney since he was an infant, the nanny has an extremely strong attachment to our son.  That said, she has known from the  moment we arrived that we would be leaving but somehow this knowledge didn't make our impending departure any easier.  She had been crying on and off for the past month yet the tears seemed to become a daily occurrence this past week.  Tuesday morning it all came to a head with her continuously crying in Sidney's presence.  This only added to his distress and my own as well since I was trying to also deal with the movers while consoling my son all while operating on a few hours of sleep.  As a last resort Glenn and I brought her home early and let her know that we wouldn't be needing her services on Wednesday as we had originally planned.  This only added to her flood of tears but we simply couldn't take it any longer.  What we needed to do was focus on taking care of Sidney and helping him to understand what was going on and her tears were only making the situation worse.

He almost seemed relieved once we had dropped the nanny off at her home and we actually had an enjoyable Tuesday afternoon in our empty house.  Sidney explored newly emptied spaces, asked a few questions, and even talked excitedly about the plane ride he was going to take.  I naively thought we were out of the woods.  But Wednesday morning arrived with stories of mummies invading if we left the house, a new found fear of heights (i.e. not being able to ride in airplanes), and an unwillingness to leave the house.  Sidney persistently pulled the overfilled suitcases from the garage back into the house informing me that we couldn't move if we didn't have our suitcases so he was bringing them back inside.  When our driver arrived with the car Sidney all but lost it.  There were more painful tears and denials but eventually, after more coaxing and cajoling, we were able to get Sidney into the vehicle (sans suitcases--which were transported by the second driver after we left) with the promise of lunch.  All was well until after lunch when Sidney wanted to return home.  This time we distracted him with a promise of watching a movie in the hotel room.  It worked temporarily...... until the meltdown at the airport........

And so the pattern has been continuing.  Is there an end in sight?  Yes. Do I know when it is?  Absolutely not, although I hope it is sooner rather than later. It is so hard to watch my baby when he is sad and confused about what is happening around him.  I am assuring him that everything will be fine and talking about the great new adventures that await us.  He's taken to given me a look that makes him look wise behind his years when I tell him these things.  But everything will be fine and what doesn't destroy us will only make us stronger.  Sidney will be able to add a whole new set of memories to his Albanian ones and will hopefully soon forget about his anxiety surrounding this move.  That is until we get to do it all over again in three years.  Other parents have told me that moving is much easier when kids are younger so I can only imagine what I have to look forward to.

Bust

Early in our Albanian tenure; we were all younger, thinner, and
had more hair (I was even a red head)

Today, after 952 days, we are departing Albania for what is likely to be the last time. The past few years have been a wild ride filled with ups and downs, great joy and crushing heartbreak, adventure filled weekends and lazy days of doing nothing, long work hours and too many responsibilities.  We've made life long friends and met people we hope to never see again.  Our little boy arrived as a baby and is departing as a worldly, bilingual four year old.  We've visited twenty-three European countries (some multiple times) yet managed to explore Albania's natural beauty from north to south, east to west.  (In fact, we've probably seem more of Albania than many of our Albanian friends).  We've explored more castle ruins than I even thought was humanly possible and walked in places that seem trapped in a previous time. I quickly discovered the importance of investing in a good pair of shoes, always carrying my own toilet paper, and never leaving home without both a hand held fan and a sweater.  I've learned to improvise with my cooking, to always watch where I step, and that embassies, street dogs, farm animals and overflowing dumpsters can happily co-exist on a single street (namely ours).  I've had it reaffirmed time and time again that I really do not care for offal, raki, or Albanian wine but have never tired of the plethora of  fresh fish, figs, and other seasonal delicacies.  My defensive driving skills have been honed and I been amazed time and time again at what can be made out of concrete, but I still can't decipher whether a bobbing head means yes, no, or a little of both.

We've grown and matured and we've seen Albania grow right along with us; new roads, many with actual pavement, have reduced travel times from one end of the country to another; new shopping malls, movie theaters, and grocery stores have all introduced a variety of services and amenities to the country inching Albania one step closer to her western contemporaries. But through all of this the house across the street from us remains as occupied and unfinished as the day we arrived while the number of old Mercedes, battered furgons, and over the top expensive vehicles plying the roads has drastically increased.  During the past two and a half years airlines have come and gone, we witnessed national elections and a new government come to power, and are watching Albania's ongoing quest to be welcomed into the EU.  From The New York Times to Lonely Planet, travel writers continue to rate Albania as an up and coming place to visit.  (And, in my opinion, Albania is well worth a visit).  Yes, the past two and a half years have been quite the adventure.

So what does the future hold for us?  For sure, there will be more adventures, more memories to be made and new opportunities to be had. This blog will continue with the same URL but a new name.  (I'm testing out names so if you have any suggestions, please send them my way).  So stay tuned to find out what the future holds for us!

Our most recent family picture; we are all older and
wiser but still enjoying our adventures