Guest Expat Blogger- Vegemitevix

Mar 5, 2010 by cafebebemama

The delightful world of blogging has allowed me to get to meet so many brilliant people and Vegemitevix is one of them.  We’re kindred spirits, in fact.  Vegemitevix is a Kiwi (from New Zealand) who came to England much the same as I did.  For the love of an Englishman.  She and her Englishman have a similar love of Paris as well as I found out on her lovely post A Girl Guide in Paris.  You can read more about her life and adventures at http://vegemitevix.com.  I think you’ll love her writing and tales as much as I do.  Vegemitevix has this to say about herself:

Vegemitevix moved from the seaside city of Auckland in New Zealand to a small rural town in Hampshire in August 2008, to follow the love of a Englishman she met on holiday in Paris in 2007. She took along for the ride, her kids (two teens and a tweenie) the family pets, twenty boxes of earthly possessions and guts! Swapping pavlova for pork pies, beautiful beaches for Blighty and sun, sea and surf for snow and sleet, Vegemitevix blogs stories from the expat frontline.

I now bring you Vegemitevix’ guest post for my Friday offering.  It’s all about being an expat…something I know just a bit about.  If you’d like to read my post on Vegemitevix’ blog…head on over there after you read this one.  My post is entitled “Pork Pies and Other Faux Pas”…it’s a corker!

Things I’ve learnt from being an Expat

This is my third experience of living the expat life. I spent my early life living in a gold-mining town of Vatakoula in Fiji, I spent my kids’ early lives in Brisbane, Australia and now I’m here – in Hampshire, UK.

New Zealand’s national bird and icon is the flightless kiwi – a discreet brown little bird who forages for food on the forest floor! Yet Kiwis have a reputation for lots of travel. Who says Kiwi’s can’t fly? Huh!

I’ve learnt so much from being an expat. Some silly things, some trivial, some deep…and…meaningful, some things about the world, the universal way of things and some sometimes alarmingly revealing things, about myself.

Here’s a few of them.

You wouldn’t go into someone’s home and tell them they had a small house, you didn’t like the food and laugh at their accent, would you? It’s never a good idea to complain about your host country and compare it with home. It’s hard to not do this. At first everything is so new and different and interesting, but after a while the exotic light dims and the comparisons begin. My son (aged 14 when he first arrived in England) would often come out with terribly embarrassing comments such as

‘I got really lost on the way back cos all the houses look the same’.

And in answer to questions about whether he’d found a girlfriend at school.

‘No, all the girls are really fat in England. (He wasn’t trying to be rude, it’s not quite such an outdoorsy lifestyle here and he just lacks social graces sometimes..)

Ahem. Moving on…

Your home country’s national dish may be pickled turnips on a bed of fattened frog’s livers, but nothing in your new country will ever hold a candle to it. I will never understand what is so appealing about Cornish pasties. To me they are a heart-attack wrapped up in a stroke! Who would enjoy stewed mince meat and bland potatoes and veg swimming in coloured cardboard gravy, wrapped up in soggy pastry?

My Englishman!

He comes over all nostalgic and moist-eyed when he sees one. I don’t get it! But then he doesn’t get my favourite food, oysters. I particularly love Bluff oysters from the deep south of New Zealand! He doesn’t understand the attraction of what looks to him like the contents of a sailor’s spittoon and tastes like fermented cough mixture!

I’ve discovered that being an expat will do crazy things to your memory. You will all of a sudden magically memorise every single word of your national anthem, (even the Maori words that you used to mumble!) and you will be prone to bursting into song at any minor sporting triumph. You’ll remember the words and actions to the Haka despite the fact that it’s a Maori man’s ceremonial war dance. And you’re a woman! You’ll watch every All Blacks’ game you can (NZ’s national rugby team), despite the fact you loathed rugby and despaired of your rugby idolising nation!

Memories tinged with homesickness become more vivid when you’re an expat.

You’ll remember a hotter sun, a longer summer, a keener surf, and an easier lifestyle, at home. No doubt the grass is greener there too, despite the fact it doesn’t rain as much as here in England.

Nowhere has as much rain as England!

I’ve been here over 18 months now and I’ve been amazed at how few Kiwis live in my neck of the words. I haven’t met one fellow Kiwi – with familiar squashed dipthongs and flattened vowels – in this little town. This sad search for fellow countrymen and women lead me to throwing myself at a man at the Basingstoke Ocktoberfest who was wearing a t-shirt with a Kiwi advertising slogan on it – ‘Yeah right’. (It’s advertising for a beer called Tui) Keen on making friends I bounded up to him like a friendly Labrador, patted him on the back and said about the rapidly diminishing beer supplies at the festival

‘Beer at a beerfest, yeah right’

He gave me that look that silently asked ‘How long until your meds?’

I tried to explain but failed in light of the fact he was English and the t-shirt was a gift. I hurriedly lost myself in the crowd.

It’s possibly a blessing in disguise that there aren’t many Kiwis living nearby, as there’s no way I can loose myself in a clicque of countrymen. I’ve had to assimilate, though I’ve learnt to be careful to remain true to myself and my identity. I have to encourage the kids to not pick up the local accent. I was horrified when my ten year old daughter came home talking…

‘like is, dropping the ‘t’s in words like, y’know like wah-a not water’. I got her to drop it immediately. The fake accent. Not the t’s.

Being an expat makes you an immediate expert about everything that comes from your home country. At times you become something of a walking talking tour guide. Lord of the Rings? I know all the scene locations. America’s Cup – I was there wearing lucky red socks! How to shear a sheep….um….I’m a city girl!

Everyone you meet knows someone who lives in New Zealand, and they want to know if you know that someone too.

‘Where are you from’ asks the key cutting engraver.

‘Auckland, New Zealand’s major city’

‘OOOOOh I know Fred and Martha Anderson they live in Auckland. Do you know them?’

Patient look. Faint pleasant smile.

‘No sorry I don’t think I’ve come across them.’

There’s just under 2 million people in Auckland. I’m a friendly girl, but not that friendly! I don’t know everyone!

I’ve learnt so much from being an expat.

The most important lesson of all I think, is how deeply unsettling homesickness can be. It creeps up on you not on the dull dark days, but when everything is working out well. When the sun’s shining and the new family dynamics are working out. There’s no explanation, and often no warning when homesickness will strike. Learning how to work through it has been one of the major lessons of my life. After all it’s simply learning how to deal with change. Our whole lives we are travelling from place to place (emotionally if not physically) from age to age, from circumstance to new circumstance. Learning how to cope with change has meant that I am painting myself with resilience. I’m adapting and growing.

I’m forever learning and that is a very precious lesson indeed.