The Circle of Life

There are some days when I have to remind myself how lucky I am to be an expat and have the opportunity to experience life in a different country.

I’ve been here before. I know what I have to do to pull myself out of the doldrums. During  our first winter in the USA I resorted to filling my long lonely days with extreme jigsaw puzzling. I’ve always vowed I will never let things get that bad again. I’m in a different place now – quite literally.

In the US I pulled myself through that first year  by vowing to get outside every day for a walk. Our house nestled in the foothills of the magnificent San Gabriel mountains. I could step out of my door and stride uphill through the wide leafy streets of our affluent housing estate, admiring well-manicured lawns and exotic flower beds. Despite being in the middle of winter, I didn’t need a coat. The sun still shined. It was easy to be optimistic. I found a voluntary job doing something I loved – gardening.  When I finally managed to convince Mr T that I was never going to fit in to this quiet little corner of suburban America and we needed to move into town NOW, we found ready made ex-pat friends in our apartment block; I had a school run, a gym, a pool and then of course, I discovered the joy of blogging, and from blogging, came writing, stories, novels….

Here in the Netherlands it is a lot harder to keep that smile on my face. Mr T goes off to work at 7.30 and doesn’t get home much before 6. I know I should be grateful.  I’ve met other ex-pats whose husband travel continually. They are by themselves for days on end. You have to keep busy.

So when I find myself completing Facebook quizzes on the American constitution - yes apparently I do qualify as an American citizen, and discovering that I am Rosie and I am smart (who knew?), alarm bells start to ring.  Did I really just download an adult colouring app for my new tablet? What next?   On-line jigsaws? What am I doing?

Get outside. Get cold, get wet…get frozen, get soaked. There are days when I don’t even want to get out of bed, let alone out of the front door. The writing has come to a standstill. It is hard to remain motivated without a close network of like-minded encouraging writer friends.  I have a completed novel, which is doing the rounds of agents; I have a sequel, so far no more than a few plot-lines jotted in a notebook; I have another, unrelated story already in a reasonable state of beginning and end yet can’t get to grips with the middle, I have even started my How to Ex-Pat guide, several times. The ideas are there – the impetus to get them finished, evaporated (or as this is Holland, not so much evaporated as washed away….)

If I can’t get out, I should get cooking. Isn't that just as therapeutic? I’ve tried cakes – they don’t work unless I use self-raising flour imported from the UK, and there is only so much flour you can import from the UK, especially when you already have a car packed to bursting with cat biscuits, shredded wheat and orange squash.  The student suggested I should make my own bread. After all, she (correctly) pointed out that I am always saying I will do this when I return to the UK. Why wait? Why not do it here? Well the answer soon became apparent as four supermarkets later we finally managed to track down some gist (yeast). As for bread-making flour, that appeared to be non-existent.  Undeterred we soldiered on with what we hoped was a suitable alternative. It wasn't. The term wheat-brick springs to mind when looking at (and tasting) the finished product.

And that is why it is easy to become disheartened.

Another is the passing ships in the night phenomenon. This weekend friends we made when we first came to Haarlem but who subsequently returned to the UK came back for a visit.  It was great to catch up, but it only made me realise that in another six or seven months time I’ll inevitably be saying goodbye to the new friends I had to go out and find after the original ones left! It’s a vicious ex-pat circle.