Nov 19, 2013 |
Sometimes I forget. Most of the time I forget.
As an adoptive parent I am thankful to be living in a time and a place where adoption has been embraced. It’s certainly not a new or American concept. Moses was adopted 1600 years before Caesar Augustus who was adopted 2000 years before either of my children and neither of them was American. I mean Moses or Caesar . . . not my kids.
It’s a fact that adoption has been written about since ancient Babylon and the Roman Empire but NEVER has there EVER been so many, many, many resources available for the adoptive family.
Ever.
There are uber-endless numbers of blogs, groups, websites, chatrooms, forums, books, videos, pamphlets, seminars, webinars, podcasts and after school specials that offer some level of assistance or understanding or explanation of every possible facet of adoption that could ever be imagined. Everyone from Oprah to Mister Rogers has chimed in, many in an effort to educate the non-adoptive world. For those of you who don’t have adoption as a part of your story a quick Google search will pull up 14 million pages offering help on how to talk to your kids about . . . you know . . . our kids.
Lest I slip into sounding snarky or ungrateful for those resources and the fact that many of the stigmas of the past and of other cultures are less prevalent right here and right now I want to reiterate . . . I am genuinely and deeply thankful.
However, I have yet to find a resource for how I should talk to my kids about . . . you know . . . yours.
Quite frankly . . . we’re normal.
I’m not just saying that because I read it in a book about adopted kids. We just are.
Completely, maybe even painfully normal.
My kids have taken on the role of bossy big sister and bratty little brother with a passion. They fight like cats and dogs. They complain when they have to do their chores. They don’t clean up their room unless they’re asked. They have to be manipulated to eat green things. They don’t like doing homework or taking baths or going to bed. They say funny stuff. They laugh like crazy when we tickle them. They beam with pride on the inside when we brag about them. They love Christmas morning and family night and doing high’s and low’s at dinner. They would both gladly trade the other one for three scoops of ice cream but they would both regret it as soon as the ice cream was gone. They would watch TV for days if we let them and even though they may not say a word they know when mom and dad aren’t being nice to each other.
Yep. Even the books about normal kids will back me up. We fit.
And if we are normal then I want to make sure my kids understand how to function well in a world where not everyone is exactly like them.
Here’s my short list of things I want my kids to know:
1. Non-Adoptive children are normal too
It may seem odd that some kids look so much like their parents. They may have the same skin, the same hair, the same eyes and the same smile. Sometimes they may even look like miniature versions of their parents dressed in matching clothes. That’s ok. Just because they are different doesn’t make them strange or weird. They may be strange or weird but that is not the reason.
2. You should never ask a kid if he/she is not adopted
Most children probably know already but you should never take that chance. Some parents choose not to tell their children that they are not adopted. It is better to let them bring it up and then you may ask questions.
3. It is NEVER OK to make fun of children who are not adopted
Teasing little children by saying things like, “SURPRISE! You’re NOT ADOPTED!!” is never funny. In fact it is incredibly offensive. Think about how you would feel if someone teased you like that. Seriously. Think about it.
4. Be careful with your words
We are a REAL family. You are our REAL kids and together we most certainly are a FOREVER family. The same is true for kids who weren’t adopted. We don’t hold the rights to “foreverness” but we love that it describes us. We’re also not better because we CHOSE you. Children who weren’t adopted were chosen too. The process was different but the result is the same. A REAL FAMILY FOREVER.
5. Don’t ever ask a non adopted child “how much they cost”
That’s tacky. You can never put a price tag on a person. The process is what costs money which is a good conversation to have if you’re interested. Children, however, are priceless, no matter what the process.
6. We can always talk
If you ever have questions about what it might be like to not be adopted, we can talk. If you wonder what it is like for your friends, we can talk. If you wish the whole world could be adopted, we can talk. Even, if you wish you had not been adopted, we can talk. Point is, we can always talk.
7. Take the high road
When kids are not like other kids sometimes other kids who are not like those kids say mean things. They ask mean questions because they don’t understand. They call names and make up stories because they are snot nosed brat faced little booger bites who need discipline. Don’t be that kid. Even if all the other kids are adopted and there is only one who is not, don’t join the crowd if the crowd is wrong. Be a friend.
8. Awkward moments are not the end of the world
As much as possible try not to say something hurtful but even if you do don’t let it end a good relationship. Sometimes we ask questions because we’re curious and it doesn’t go well. What matters more is what you do next. Move past it. Apologize if you need to and know that if you build a really great relationship you can ask anything you want . . . but that takes time.
Our adoption story is a beautiful part of our bigger story. We love it when we think about it but sometimes . . . most of the time, we forget.
Nov 12, 2013 |
Uh. The people. Duh.
That’s the only respectable answer to the question most often asked of people who have recently moved across the planet . . . “What do you miss the most?” It has now been five months since my family and I relocated our lives from China back to the U.S. and just as I expected, I am missing the people like crazy. Also no surprise is number two . . . the food.
The crazy bit is the number of things that I’m finding myself missing that I never dreamed I would.
Here’s my short list of the most ironic things I miss about China:
1. Stinky Toilets
This never would have made my list had a friend of mine and China expat veteran not blown my mind and saved my bacon at the same time. I challenged a group of expats once to find the good and the bad of every part of their transition. Confident I could pull off this discussion I threw out the bait, “What was the worst part of your first year in China?” Without skipping a beat the voice came from the back, “SQUATTY POTTIES”. The whole group groaned in agreement (no pun intended).
Internally I was sure that my theory was busted but I was too far in to turn back. “Ok can anyone think of anything good about squatting your fully exposed posterior over a foul smelling, nasty, stank infested, porcelain hole in the ground?”
“Anyone?”
“Anyone?”
The awkwardness was finally broken by my friend who said, “the worst toilets I ever smelled and the best people I ever met were in the Chinese countryside so now every time I smell a nasty toilet I am reminded of my time there.”
Brilliant. I miss stinky toilets.
Here’s a post about that: China’s Beautiful Countryside
2. Hoofing It
To be clear, when I was in China the one thing I missed more more than anything (except the people – duh) is driving a car. I also complained daily about having to walk so far just to find a taxi (which I also complained about because it reminded me that I didn’t have a car). However, I’m realizing, now that I have a car to carry me everywhere, that my body and my mind are both missing my daily walks. Long walks gave me a great chance to process my day, plan the next one and complain about the fact that I didn’t have a car. They were also infinitely more healthy than sitting behind a steering wheel complaining about the fact that I never get to walk anywhere.
Never satisfied.
3. Communism
I have spent a ridiculous amount of time writing and rewriting this paragraph because I’m confident that any way I explain it, it’s going to come out horribly wrong. So I’m settling on short, sweet and trusting you, the reader and my fellow Americans (if you are), to understand that I have not switched allegiance to the Communist party nor am I the least bit unthankful for the freedoms of my beautiful American life.
However, a refreshing side note to Chinese Communism is that I have met very few Chinese people who both:
- Claim loudly to be living in the “Greatest Nation in the World”
- Complain incessantly about how horrible everything in their nation is
The opposite seems to be true around here. Moving on.
4. Illiteracy
I read Chinese at about the same level that my four year old reads English. We both stumble around in virtual darkness and jump for joy when something makes sense. It’s bonding really. Although it is nice to be able to read again, ten minutes in front of the tabloids at the grocery store makes me miss the golden days of blissful illiteracy.
5. Faking Chinese
For seven years the most consistent challenge of my daily existence has been saying words. It has become a very normal cycle of my everyday routine to
- Need to communicate a thought
- Realize I cannot
- Learn a new word
- Try to use it
- Receive a blank stare
- Try again
- Act it out using hand gestures and props from around the room
- Give up.
My Chinese is still pretty shaky but my mime skills have gotten crazy good.
99% of the time it has been something super simple like “do you carry flourescent light bulbs ?” or “please don’t put ketchup on my Egg Mcmuffin”. It’s the 1% times like, “my son is having a seizure, please do something” that have left the most lasting impact. Some combination of learning Chinese and learning how to fake it have helped me make it through the past seven years one awkward mistake at a time.
And I’ll be doggone’d if I don’t miss it every single day.
Check out some of my favorite posts about faking Chinese
6. Being Stared At
Strange I know. Doesn’t make a bit of sense to me either but after a while you kind of get used to being a walking confusion storm. That’s what my family is in China. We don’t make sense no matter how you look at us. Two white foreigners with a Chinese daughter (who speaks remarkable English) and a black son who has just recently become a ninja. Yeah. We’re confusing. So people stare (and sometimes take pictures) because it is perfectly, culturally acceptable to stare at weird things in China. Given the fact that we were taught that it is absolutely unacceptable and terribly rude to stare at weird things (until you know for sure that they are not looking at you), it can be one of the frustrating bits of cultural adjustment.
And still . . . I miss it.
7. Taking Taxis
Great conversation. Deep cultural insight. All the cigarettes he can smoke. Near death thrill rides. What’s not to miss?
8. Being a Foreigner
There is something profound and humbling about experiencing life as a bumbling outsider. Tripping over culture every single day. Miscommunicating every word and every thought. Wondering what people think when they look at you. Getting cut in line by tiny elderly women. Being told you’re too fat or too old or too black or your baby is too cold or too hot or too diapered. Daily feeling smugly pompous about how much righter you are than them and then wondering if you’ve ever been right about anything.
It all blends. It ain’t always pretty. In fact it’s often quite messy.
But dang I miss it.
Ironic huh?
How about you? Expats? Repats? What are you missing that you never thought you would?
Jan 18, 2013 |
There was a sticker in my urinal yesterday.
I’m not entirely surprised to see random things in a urinal. In fact I usually don’t give it much thought. Cigarette butts are almost a given. Those little pink moth ball smelling discs wrapped in a plastic . . . sure. I’ve even recently seen toilets filled with ice accompanied by a sign that assures me that by using a urinal with ice in it I am saving the equivalent of three rainforests. That one actually makes me feel good. I’m mean, I’m no environmental hero or anything but I like to do what I can.
The sticker just made me laugh.
It said “here”.
It was a target. They put a target in the toilet. That’s funny.
It’s also a little bit brilliant considering that this is a problem that has plagued restrooms across the globe for centuries. Very few little boys have not been called away from their video games back into the bathroom by their slightly more than irritated mother to receive step by step instructions in toilet etiquette and post usage clean up. Let’s be honest. Very few marriages have been spared that same tutorial.
It’s a legitimate and apparently universal problem. So much so that there is an entire industry created around it. Ingenious minds have racked their engineering brains inventing and reinventing the most perfectly contoured porcelain and the most practical splash guard accessories to solve the problem. Even the poets have attacked the issue with poignant works like:
“If you sprinkle when you tinkle,
Be a sweetie, wipe the seatie.”
I think that was Emily Dickinson. Or Elizabeth Barrett Browning. Pretty sure it was a woman.
And now. Problem solved.
All it took was a tiny little, brightly colored, liquid proof sticker that says, “here.”
At least that’s what they want you to think. The reality here is much, much darker and I’m onto them.
Follow me here.
It didn’t even occur to me at first that the sticker was in English. English is all around in China so no surprise there but English is generally a translation of Chinese and even though translations are getting progressively better, bathroom translations are notoriously and most often hilariously bad. In fact, in the exact same public restroom on the door to the Western toilet (if you don’t know what a Western toilet is then it’s probably the one you would call normal) was this sign that read, “Squatting Pan.”
“Squatting Pan.”
I want this sign to hang on my bathroom and if I find it I will buy it in bulk to sell it online. Ten bucks and you too can have one for your home.
But the sticker just said, “here.”
No Chinese. No translation. Just, “here.”
If there had been a translation, they surely would have employed the standard bathroom English translators and it would have read something like, “Stream arrive thusly” or “Preventing unfortunate puddle radius.”
But it didn’t. It just said, “here”, in perfectly understandable, non-overstated English and no Chinese.
Do you realize what this means?!!
They think that the foreigners are the ones making all the mess!! Obviously the Chinese men don’t need a target but the English speaking outsiders have a serious problem. There must have been councils formed and city planning meetings to discuss this. Meetings where an actual item of business was what to do about the foreign men in public restrooms.
I’m trying to imagine what might happen if, in my hometown, which is less than 2% Hispanic, the city park put up a sign that said “no littering” but it was only in Spanish. Automatic grounds for a racial profiling suit.
I’m not sure they have racial profiling suits here so I’m choosing to let it slide but you can be sure that I left the restroom more paranoid than I went in. Were they talking about me? Rolling their eyes? Did the maintenance man get on his walkie talkie and say, “yeah we just had a foreigner come out of the East side men’s room. We’re gonna’ need a clean up crew. Over.”
Ok. I didn’t actually think all of those things but it was the funniest thing I’ve seen in a toilet all week. Which is why I thought it was worth and blog post . . . and the risk of someone walking in while I was snapping a picture . . . of the urinal.
Jan 14, 2013 |
I’m a do it yourself kind of guy. Call me crazy but I see absolutely no value in paying a trained professional my hard earned money to invade my home for up to an hour while he completes a simple task that I could clearly do myself in seven to ten hours for twice as much money.
However, labor is generally cheap in China so when our kitchen faucet started spraying water on the zippered part of my pants last week I called the fix it guy from the management office of our apartments . . . and I changed my pants. He arrived quickly. He looked at the faucet (which I had taken the liberty to disassemble for him). He laughed a little bit. He left.
Outwardly acting disappointed, my inner manly man simultaneously grunted for joy at the prospect of a DIY experience that might actually involve tools and more grunting.
Doing it yourself is a whole different beast in China though. There are simple considerations that, if left unconsidered, can cause considerable challenges. So I have prepared this step by step guide for my fellow expat menly men in an effort to minimize the stress of what could be a very simple project. Obviously, if you are a fellow Do-It-Yourselfer you don’t NEED to read this but you may want to suggest it to others who don’t understand things like we do.
STEP ONE: Put it off until later.
This is important. Do not let your ambition cloud your understanding of what you know to be true. This is going to take a while. That urgent, “I need to do this now” feeling that you are experiencing is simply the surge of extra testosterone that your body produces when you hear of a DIY project. It’s perfectly normal but you must fight it.
Symptoms are:
- Forgetfulness (non-capacity to remember what happened last time)
- Internal Bargaining (How hard can it be? How long could it take?)
- Delusions of Grandeur (It is not uncommon for men in this state to believe they can fly, fight crime wearing spandex or fix a leaky faucet)
Be strong. Even if you were in your home country this would take seven times as long as your hormone-disabled brain is allowing you to think at the moment. You are in China which automatically adds an extra multiple of seven. That’s 49 times as long. Think you can do it in an hour? See you in two days.
Here are some suggestions to get you through STEP ONE:
- Go to ESPN.com: Important – Even if you have television in China do not go to there! It’s probably ping pong or soccer. Find a sport that involves hitting, crashing or punching. DO NOT, under any circumstances, go to any site or channel that even remotely promotes the fixing, assembling, remodeling or demolition of ANYTHING. There are password protected safeguards that you can place on your computer to protect you from a vulnerable moment. Use them.
- Eat Something Spicy: Really spicy. The kind that you would get to write your name on the wall of some restaurants just for eating. Sharing it with a friend is even better especially if that friend cannot eat the spicy food. Even if your face turns purple and your tongue catches fire pretend you feel nothing and say, “What? You think that’s spicy?”
- Pretend to be Spiderman
The sense of urgency will soon subside. In two to three days your wife will point out that every dish in the house is now dirty and it may be time for you to begin the project. You should begin the project two to three days after that.
STEP TWO: Disassemble the Old Faucet
Tools needed: Any wrench you have, hammer (if you have one), Drill (which you probably don’t have), Fork or chopsticks, Old shoe, Duct tape.
No instruction necessary.
STEP THREE (optional): Learn the Chinese words for “Kitchen Faucet”
Note: If you forget this step it’s ok. You can use sign language and your taxi driver or the hardware store owner will teach you the correct words. Even if you know the correct words it is wise to use sign language for context since you will probably pronounce it incorrectly and say something like “The dragon has wet hair.” This will make no sense unless you are pretending to turn a faucet on and off while saying, “Pshhhht Pshhht”.
“Shui long tou” (shway long toe) – That’s how you say faucet in Chinese but however you said it in your head . . . it was wrong.
STEP FOUR: Go to the Hardware Store
This is actually a complex step due to the various styles of hardware store in China. Most larger cities are now equipped with three options for fixing your sink:
The Tiny Store: A one room, streetside shop owned and operated by one Chinese manly man, his wife and their two year old daughter. The shop will be cram packed from floor to ceiling, wall to wall with every conceivable hardware product . . . except kitchen faucets.
The Kitchen Sink Street: This is an entire city block of nothing but wholesale kitchen sink faucets and related hardware. This is your best option.
The DIY Megastore: Popping up around China are a number of DIY monster retail superstores. In our city it is B&Q which looks and smells like a Home Depot. I have heard other cities have actual Home Depot’s but they look and smell like Lowe’s. DO NOT GO HERE – the prices are generally outrageous and there is much less hunting and gathering required which defeats your manly man purposes.
Follow these directions exactly:
1. Go to the tiny store and say, “The dragon has wet hair.” The shop-owners wife will look at you like (or maybe because) you are stupid and say, “huh?” Lean forward and repeat louder, “THE DRAGON HAS WET HAIR!” She will call her husband from the back, not because he knows more about the shop but because she is concerned for her safety. When he arrives, tell him about the dragon but include miming a faucet and say, “Pshhht, Pshhhht.”
He will say, “OOHHHH, A kitchen faucet. Yeah, we don’t have any.”
Ask him where Kitchen Sink Street is. He will tell you. Practice saying it a couple of times with him. Apologize for being a foreigner.
2. Get in a taxi and tell him what the shop owner told you to say. He will look at you “like” you are stupid. Repeat it louder. Pause while he gives you a blank stare. Tell him, “The dragon has wet hair pshhht, pshhht” with sign language. He will say, “OOHHH” and drive you to the DIY Megastore.
3. Swallow your pride and forget about finding Kitchen Sink Street. Enter the DIY Megastore.
STEP FIVE: Purchase a Faucet
There will be more than 7000 faucets installed onto a shining faucet wall. Remind yourself that you came to buy the cheapest possible option and locate it on the wall. Point it out to the assistant and tell her you want to buy it. She will say, “No you don’t. You want to buy this one. It’s more expensive.” Politely decline and look at all of the faucets again.
Repeat this process several times and then buy a more expensive one.
I personally chose the single handle option with the retractable head but not because she showed it to me – and out of the single handle retractable’s I chose the cheapest one.
So there.
STEP SIX: Return Home and Begin Installation
Sidenote: There is no need to clear the dirty dishes from the sink at this point. You can work around those. There is also no need to read the directions which is good since they are probably not included in the box and if they were they would be in Chinese.
Installation is self-explanatory but follow these simple steps if you have trouble:
- Screw stuff together: Most hoses, handles, washers, bolts and rubber things only fit in one spot so you can’t possibly go wrong.
- Poke stuff through the hole in your sink: Rule of thumb – If it is shiny, it probably goes on top of the sink. If it is ugly, stuff it through the hole.
- Realize there is a hose missing: You can do this by visualizing what will happen if you turn the water on. If you can foresee yourself getting soaked there may be a problem.
- Say to yourself, “That’s strange, I wonder why it’s not included.”
STEP SEVEN: Return to the DIY Megastore
Follow these directions exactly:
1. Explain to the front desk that the hose is missing. If you don’t have the vocabulary for this you may pull the pieces out of the box and assemble the entire faucet in front of them. Then it will be obvious that a hose is missing when you say, “Pshhht, pshhht” and pretend to spray water all over them. They will call in a specialist from the faucet section. She will tell you to go to aisle 18 (plumbing) to buy the extra hose and you will question why it is not included. This is pointless.
2. Go to aisle 18 and ask for help. The plumbing specialist will tell you they do not carry that hose. You can tell her that you purchased the faucet at their store. She will say, “That’s strange, I wonder why it’s not included.” Then she will say they don’t carry it again.
3. Return to the section where you originally found your faucet and explain the situation (using words or sign language as needed/able). Show them the faucet you purchased and find another box with an identical faucet. Open the box and locate the hose that you need so you can show them. They will say, “OOHHH, just take that one.”
Note: At this point it will become clear why the hose was missing from your original box.
4. Return to the front desk where they will try to charge you for the missing hose. Explain that it should have been in the box and they will say, “OOHHH, that’s strange, I wonder why it wasn’t included.”
5. Smile. Nod. Say, “Yeah . . . strange.”
6. Return home.
STEP EIGHT: Learn some Chinese Cursewords
This will be important in Step Nine.
STEP NINE: Install the Faucet
Tools needed: Same as Step Two plus a hacksaw, a file, a blow torch and/or a small amount of C4 explosive
Follow these directions exactly:
- Screw stuff together
- Try to poke it through the hole in the sink
- Realize the hole in the sink was made for a smaller faucet
- Make the hole bigger (see tools needed)
- Try again
- Repeat steps 4 and 5 as many times as needed
- Attach all hoses to water supply
- Make it tight
- Turn the faucet on
- Shake it up and down
- Hit it a few times
- Curse in Chinese
- Realize you didn’t turn the water on under the sink
- Do that
- Turn the faucet on again
- Grunt with rejoicing when the water comes out
- Curse in Chinese when you see that it leaks
STEP TEN: Call the Fix-It-Guy
And that’s it.
Let me know if this is helpful and I’ll think about writing a “How To in China” book.
Next up: How to Break Into Your Own Apartment in China.
Oct 26, 2012 |
I nearly wrote a blog post this week but I didn’t. It would have been a good one too. Funny. Witty. The “makes you think while you’re laughing” kind. Too bad you’ll never get to read it . . . because I didn’t write it.
I started to. I’ve even got the notes I made about it written down on paper. I wrote it on paper because I was on an airplane and they wouldn’t let me turn my computer on because it would interfere with the pilot’s radar and bump us off course from Shanghai to Moscow and I heard that it’s already getting cold in Moscow. It’s still nice in Shanghai so I wrote it on paper.
It was a post about the absolutely diabolical engineering genius of airplane seats. If you’ve ever flown you see the potential for a good post right? I was making notes about how the designers of those seats had achieved the impossible. Like in that movie Apollo 13 when they had to figure out how to recreate a life size rocket ship, Times Square and a summer home for three Martians by using only eight cotton balls a rubber hose and a dirty shoe in a space the size of a coffee can or all the astronauts would burn up on re-entry or float through space until they ran out of dehydrated ice cream . . . and Tang.
And they did.
They figured it out. Which is pretty amazing but still nothing compared to the unparalleled brilliance of airplane seat designers. They must have pooled the intellects of the greatest minds from Harvard, MIT and the Third Reich to craft such an unfathomably complex and subtly torturous device. How can it be possible that no matter what position I contort my body into I am perfectly comfortable for exactly 30 seconds, no more, no less? How is it that if I move my knees one centimeter to the left my neck will spasm and if I adjust my neck one centimeter to the right my lower back will cramp and if I scoot forward one centimeter my knees will press just firmly enough on the seat in front of me to remind that passenger that he has forgotten to tilt his seat back and fall asleep in my lap . . .
. . . which forces me to adjust my knees . . .
. . . which spasms my neck . . .
. . . which cramps my back . . .
. . . which makes it really hard to keep writing notes for my blog post and ensures that the world will never know of their evil plan.
Genius.
I was going to write that post . . . but I didn’t.
Know why? Because while I was jotting notes (with my left hand because my right hand had gone completely numb under the weight of my left thigh) I realized something. Know what I realized? I realized I was flying. Me. Jerry Jones. Not Superman or Mighty Mouse or even a duck. Not even the real Jerry Jones who owns the Dallas Cowboys and can afford his own jetpack. Just me. I was flying . . . in a giant Pringle can . . . five miles above the earth . . . at speeds that would pull my face off if I stuck my head out the window and in less than an hour I would be in Shanghai which would have taken me 7 hours by train, 10 hours by car (96 hours if traffic is normal), and 8 weeks by camel if I even had a camel . . . or a car . . . or a train (who has a train?). How utterly amazing is it that human beings have discovered it possible to bend and shape steel in such a way that you can pour large amounts of combustible liquid into it . . . AND IT FLYS!
Then they put seats in it.
And what do I notice?
The seats.
The horribly uncomfortable seats.
Interesting that I have become so unaware of the amazingness (not a word according to spell check) surrounding me that the discomfort I’m sitting in is what gets my attention.
I spent the rest of the flight counting things that I had forgotten are wonderful . . . on my toes . . . because they were right next to my head.
When I got off the plane in Shanghai I caught some of the U.S. Presidential Debate on the airport TV . . . and I thought “hmm . . .
. . . that’s another post I probably won’t write.”
Sep 24, 2012 |
As a follow up to my last post . . . Being Married to the Expat Cake Lady –or- Finding Your Thang: For Expat Wives . . .
Here are 8 questions to help you find your THANG.
1. Are you an inny or an outy?
Too personal? Sorry – this has nothing to do with your belly button. Simply put, what is your personality? Here’s another way to look at it —
How much do people annoy you?
Nothing is more significant to finding your sweet spot in the expat world than your extrovertedness versus your introvertedness. Without giving proper respect to how much you enjoy/need other people around you you’re likely to waste a lot of time testing out thangs that frankly, ain’t your thang.
Introverts may feel pressured to join every tea party, picnic or play group that pops up in the expat community. “I have to go or they’ll think I’m a snob.” Extroverts may feel self-conscious because not everyone wants to join their tea party, picnic or play group. “They must hate me, what did I do?”
In a small community it’s easy to find yourself constantly over-evaluating how you might be perceived. The result is inny’s who go out and outy’s who stay in.
If you’re an introvert cut yourself some slack. You’re thang is not going to be hosting the expat talent show or teaching opera on the city square. If you’re an extrovert cut yourself some slack too. You may love blogging and scrapbooking but your thang is going to involve people . . . or you will go crazy . . . and die . . . alone.
- Go here to take the Big 5 Personality Test (don’t worry if you didn’t study). These five characteristics will tell you a lot about how to thrive cross culturally.
- For more fun personality stuff (Myers Briggs) go here.
2. What are you going to regret later if you don’t do it now?
Expats can get so busy managing life that they forget how unique this adventure is. You’re living in a foreign country. Wait, scratch that – you’re living in a country . . . as a foreigner. That can add a whole new depth to your pool of potential thangs. If you’re spending three years in China, guess what . . . now’s the time to learn Chinese. Italy? Time to perfect your pasta. Brazil? You could be learning to cook meat like it ain’t NOBODY’S business.
Your thang may or may not be directly related to your host country’s culture but don’t rule it out until you’ve thought it through. You may even be able to find some creative way to mix it up. Are you a painter? How can you capture the heart of your life as a foreigner on canvas? It doesn’t have to be the only thing you paint but how cool will it be to have that one painting in 20 years when you’re looking back?
Don’t miss the opportunity now that won’t be there later.
3. What does reality restrict?
Your thang at home may not be feasible where you live now. Sacrifice comes with the expat package (although it’s not listed on the brochure) and sometimes that can mean taking a break from the things that you most connect with.
My wife is a scrap-booker. In America it was her creative outlet and our dining room table was swallowed by 6 tons of polka dotted paper, rubber stamps and special scissors that cut swirly doodles. However, in America there were special scrap-booking stores . . . no . . . warehouses with infinite creative options and never ending swirly doodling paraphernalia. Not so much in China. Consequently her thang changed but that was a tough conclusion to come to.
A reality check on the front end may save you some unnecessary stress later.
4. Can your thang be translated?
Maybe you can’t do exactly what you love most. So flex a little bit but don’t give up altogether just yet. You may be able to translate it into your new culture.
Here’s how it works — Answer these questions:
- What was your thang at home?
- Why? — What are all of the pieces that make you love it?
- It’s an outlet for her exceptionally creative brain.
- She can do it alone or with close friends (introvert)
- She get’s to make beautiful things.
- She can make things for other people and they love it which makes her happy.
- What isavailable in your host culture that would fulfill what you love about your old thang?
Ok, it wasn’t even close to that easy but once she found it, it made sense and in her case she may even like making cakes more than she liked scrap-booking. If you can make the switch to filling what you love instead of replacing what you do it can help.
5. What energizes you?
Having a thang is more than just being good at something. You may be good at a lot of things. You may even love doing them but how do you feel when it’s all over?
Recently I did some one on one counseling with a number of new comers to China. I bounced from one meeting to another each one lasting at least an hour and some of them up to four. It was non-stop, on the go for three long days on into three late nights. I crashed hard at my hotel around midnight when I had finished my last meeting and then woke up early for a full day of training the next day.
After a six hour seminar my friend helped me process. “Jerry, how do you feel right now?”
My answer was, “I feel alive.” The one on one stuff was great but it slowly drained me. I genuinely love spending time with China newbies. Their stories are incredible and they may actually be some of my favorite people to talk to in the world. But when I’m done I’m zapped. Nothing left to give. However, even when I’m tapped out, if I can get in front of a group of people and do training . . . I wake up. I’m full of energy and when it’s all over I feel like I could run a marathon.
I couldn’t . . . but I feel like I could.
Training is my thang. One on one is thoroughly enjoyable and on a good day I’m pretty good at it. I love it but it doesn’t energize me. Training does.
What makes you feel alive? What energizes you?
6. What is your B?
If you’re moving from A to B what is your B? And if you’re trying to get to B then why are you headed for C? or Q? or Albuquerque?
Lots of accompanying spouses give up a career to move abroad with their husband or wife. As a trade off they feel pressure to find a job in their new country. Consequently they take anything they can get and often that pool is pretty shallow for foreigners. There are thousands of English Teachers out there who hate teaching English but feel like they need to be working.
You might be missing out on something good because you can’t change your paradigm. You could be using your skills, your education and your passions on something you love and you’re good at. Something that energizes you. You may or may not get paid for it but do you really need to?
If you do then by all means . . . get a job.
If having a job is your B . . . then get a job.
If teaching English is your B . . . then absolutely yes, teach English and love it.
But if you don’t like it and you can make it without the money, wouldn’t you rather be doing your thang?
7. Who Completes You?
Simply put . . . Surround yourself with people who make you better. Then your thang will be better too.
My wife is an introvert. You’d think she’d hang out with introverts. But introverts don’t complete her. Extroverts do.
Extroverts steal the show and protect her from being the center of attention. They also love her because she never competes to steal the show. She completes them too. Extroverts say, “WAAAHHH!! LOOK AT THAT CAKE!! They are her best advertising, her best encouragement and have always been her best friends.
8. How Can Your Thang Help People?
Honestly, if your thang isn’t helping someone else in some way then there is a big piece missing. Especially in an expat context doing something that only serves your own needs will isolate you from the rest of the expats and your host country. Self serving extroverts make people mad. Self serving introverts turn into hermits and get tagged as uppity snoot wads.
On the other hand, extroverts who think about other people become a bright light in a group of people who all struggle with the same basic issues. They’re the ones who find out where to buy bacon or get a great foot rub and pass it on to the rest of the crowd. Everyone loves them and gives them the kind of mass attention that energizes them.
As for introverts . . . they get a chance to quietly let the world know (one at a time) that they’re inny’s. Not weird. Not stuck up. Just not overly excited about large groups of people. They’re the ones who make unbelievable cakes and smile on the inside when people love it.
I hope you find your thang.
