(written January 20, 2008 @ 7:55am)
"The longer you're gone, the further you get."
That's what my good friend & fellow expat Denise (Belfast, Ireland) said to me about living abroad.
Although there was a long time where I divided my time abroad between America and England - I was never really "gone" - or so it felt.
I always knew I'd go back when the 6 or so months were up and to boot, I was touring hard and really didn't have any time to stop and think about life abroad.
And of course, making matters even easier, most of the time either speaking English in England or going in and out of foreign speaking countries. Just enough to taste it before the novelty wore off or difficulty set in.
I will be the first to admit, life, as an expat is not easy.
Spending 3 weeks back in America, with my family - is both glorious and invigorating and depressing and draining. And not in the way you would think because it has nothing to do with family. In fact, that's the invigorating part.
It's true the longer I am away, the more I see which in turns challenges everything I used to believe about my own culture. You see things through a magnifying glass and instead of reacting to them the old way - the way you were accustomed to as an American, you begin to see things with your new expat eyes. And with that, you just aren't sure how you are supposed to feel or believe anymore. Because you know you didn't just add a few years and experience to your life and change - you really changed. In fact, most of the time - you rebel against it because life is surely easier when you are not challenging everything you grew up to believe, reacting a certain way, living complacently amongst your people.
So in many ways, I don't exactly love these new eyes I have.
When Denise said this to me, we had just finished a last minute but quite wonderful gathering with my expats/locals group I started here in Innsbruck.
It was nearly 3am at this point - having moved on to our place with her husband Arno and a beautiful soul and becoming good friend, Marina, an expat from Brazil.
We stayed up late into the night having one of the most beautiful connections and conversations and of course, somewhere in all of it, talked about what it's like living abroad. How you watch your family age in very disturbing way. Because in some ways, although you are the one gone, they still see you in way they did when you left. And even though each time you return, you return changed in ways even you don't know, it's not always easy for a family to release the pecking order and see you for who you are now.
With that said, although it must sound in some ways not true, when you are away and living abroad, you actually see the people for who they become. One of the reasons I have come to realize this is the more you mingle internationally with others, adapt, learn new cultures and language - the easier it becomes for you to see others for who they are and ultimately yes, adapt to change and people in a fairly simple way.
When I go back to the states, I am realizing each time - maybe by something said or even something as little as what my family thinks I like or dislike. And not just change like a child growing inches within months or changing hobbies like clothes - but a profound inner change. The kind that suddenly gets put on warp speed the longer you are away.
The longer you are away from your people, your culture, your family - the more you do not see things the way you used to and sometimes, the way they still do. You want to come back and challenge them but with only 3 weeks a year, maybe 4 - it's a tireless and futile attempt.
So you - me, I guess after a few days I just gave up and decided I could be the same Tina they think I am. I can wear this family hat, which already, is hard enough at times. Because the weight I bare being in a foreign country, is sometimes so heavy - this is like carrying a fanny pack versus a huge hiking one. I do it.
Begrudgingly sometimes? Yes, for sure. But I do it because I really have no choice. It's the way things are.
And now, it's once again before sunrise and still, after 10 days back, I am not adjusting to the time in the way I usually do.
And I am sitting here, forced awake with the need to write these thoughts - thinking about what Denise said. "The longer you are away, the further you get."
It's a simple enough statement and one, which you read and take, at face value. It's true. But in the deeper sense - ok and admittedly, the jet-lagged one - it's so much more. And what she forgot to add is 'further they get.'
And you see this each time and it makes you sadder with each reminder or incident where it's just as plain as daylight. But you accept it because really, the only other alternative is to go ahead and go back. And even though what always kept me strong enough to leave to the next place and travel where the wind took me is telling myself 'I can always go back,' I know different. Or at least I am willing to see it now.
Because each time I have moved in my life, which have been many - when I left I knew deep down I would never be able to return. Any place would never be the same because the longer I was away, the further I did get and unfortunately, never being able to go back in time is one of the worlds cruelest jokes.
Those 3 weeks were magical, they always are. Each moment with my family was precious and even though I have to witness my parents age in a way my siblings there don't, work a little hard during even daily stuff to fight for who I have become, keep the sudden and vicious epiphanies about my old beliefs or views to myself, I know that in the end, as Denise also said, 'my (your) feet do the leaving (or something like that)
For whatever reason, I have landed myself here, even if feet first and soul later, which for me, is often the case.
And after nearly 10 days back in Austria, away from my country and my family - I can feel my soul slowly beginning to return. Weary and confused and not really sure where it belongs anymore but returning nonetheless.
Like giving advice to the young women that come after you, no one really tells you everything. How hard life really is. We all know that's probably a good thing in the end. Because if we knew that when we jumped we surely fall and end up in a cast, we'd probably never go out or worse, take crunches everywhere we went 'just in case.'
So on this too early to be awake Sunday morning, I cherish this - although admittedly rough realization - feeling of new found understanding about what is really going on here. How fast everything moves and how much time you lack to get it all done.
I let my feet do the talking for too many years and even though I am doing less of that now, it did make me the open, flexible and road-smart dame that I have become.
I have time and distance to thank for that. The longer I was gone, the further I did get and in the end, I guess that wasn't such a bad thing.
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
magnets
(written Jan 19, 2008 @ 7:10am)
I was looking at the magnets on my fridge, just now - here in Innsbruck at not even 8am after going to bed at 4.
And it dawned on me how long it has been since I've had a fridge - to put magnets on.
When my husband and I returned from Christmas in America - we also probably as no surprise, brought back with us, two more full suitcases.
The plan was I would collect what little I had in the back room, of my childhood home. I would fill at least one suitcase, if not two, full of things like photo's of my family and friends, my little pumpkin music custom-made electric guitar, my first guitar with the signatures from songwriters I now feel I am not far behind, a few odds and ends here I managed to not sell, give away or throw out along my travels. The last of the good stuff.
But because it was his first Christmas with my family and even though we only chose one name for secret Santa - Helli was lavished with things like a pasta maker, kitchen gadgets, two different sets of very heavy poker chips with cases, a pasta maker, handmade tequila from Mexico...
And when I tried to pack our original two bags - one each, full of what we brought and this - for obvious reasons, it did not work.
So we filled two bags my mom loaned us with his Christmas goods - and that was that.
By the time we made it to my childhood home - the one in the neighborhood with the broken down car in the driveway, long gone over-grown rose bushes, a shingled roof about to collapse. The one abandoned almost three years ago after the divorce was final.
By the time we made it there, one day before our flight left, I realized rather quickly that even though some part of my tumbling ways, hobo'ing it lifestyle - for who knows how long - was coming to some sort of end - or change - I would not fulfill my small, tiny dream of and now what seems like a luxury, hanging the photo's of my past lives in America, since 16 leaving the house, on my walls.
My guitars would sit untouched and probably warping in the un-temperature controlled house - what was, is - left of it all, would not ... this time, be coming "home" with me.
So while I was looking at the magnets & few photo's & mementos I did manage to pack on my fridge, just now - at now a few minutes past 8am, after going to bed at 4am - I look at the albeit small but big reminder of who I used to be, the places I have gone and the people I have loved.
The skydiving in Phoenix, Arizona picture. The dive I took with my long-gone x-fiancé that never was to be and our friends. The jump that started the now wrecked and 3 knee surgeries knee - with the man that ruined me for all the years before my now husband found me. Being held by the first magnet I bought living in Colorado, where ultimately - oddly enough, he left me, I left me - I checked out from the world awhile.
The kind of photo's where one of you holds up an arm, and snaps. Ones with my little sister before she even had her braces off, with my nieces when they were too young to object to Auntie Tina snapping a million ridiculous pictures with that arm held out. That magnet I had completely forgot about - the one from the Body Shop saying women were not Barbie's and if we were, we wouldn't be able to walk. It was displayed prominently in my too expensive but most amazing studio apartment in Noe Valley in San Francisco. The apt, that despite having already lived many lives, in many states with many apartments - the one that made me feel all grown up. The one some day I would write a song about, "The window on 24th street."
And the last place I would really call home - with a fridge to put those magnets.
It is in this instant that I finally - in some strange way thanks to these crazy magnets, photo's and what they represent - put to rest the old ghosts, the broken promises, the trails gone cold - the ones I loved that didn't love me back.
It is in this instant that after all these years, chasing something I don't know or even why I am (was?) chasing - I put to rest the girls I used to know. The ones that took shit from men, from strangers, the road. The one that didn't want to live, that fought hard - for far too long, to die.
The me I was running from is as of now, back.
She - me - collected those stories, scars on roads that although made me who I am, will never hold me hostage ever again.
And although I sometimes still live in the past, it took those silly little fridge magnets to remind me to keep hoping for the future.
And even without my guitars and things I finally after all these years have a place for, I am the proud owner of one small fridge and a whole lotta' living.
I was looking at the magnets on my fridge, just now - here in Innsbruck at not even 8am after going to bed at 4.
And it dawned on me how long it has been since I've had a fridge - to put magnets on.
When my husband and I returned from Christmas in America - we also probably as no surprise, brought back with us, two more full suitcases.
The plan was I would collect what little I had in the back room, of my childhood home. I would fill at least one suitcase, if not two, full of things like photo's of my family and friends, my little pumpkin music custom-made electric guitar, my first guitar with the signatures from songwriters I now feel I am not far behind, a few odds and ends here I managed to not sell, give away or throw out along my travels. The last of the good stuff.
But because it was his first Christmas with my family and even though we only chose one name for secret Santa - Helli was lavished with things like a pasta maker, kitchen gadgets, two different sets of very heavy poker chips with cases, a pasta maker, handmade tequila from Mexico...
And when I tried to pack our original two bags - one each, full of what we brought and this - for obvious reasons, it did not work.
So we filled two bags my mom loaned us with his Christmas goods - and that was that.
By the time we made it to my childhood home - the one in the neighborhood with the broken down car in the driveway, long gone over-grown rose bushes, a shingled roof about to collapse. The one abandoned almost three years ago after the divorce was final.
By the time we made it there, one day before our flight left, I realized rather quickly that even though some part of my tumbling ways, hobo'ing it lifestyle - for who knows how long - was coming to some sort of end - or change - I would not fulfill my small, tiny dream of and now what seems like a luxury, hanging the photo's of my past lives in America, since 16 leaving the house, on my walls.
My guitars would sit untouched and probably warping in the un-temperature controlled house - what was, is - left of it all, would not ... this time, be coming "home" with me.
So while I was looking at the magnets & few photo's & mementos I did manage to pack on my fridge, just now - at now a few minutes past 8am, after going to bed at 4am - I look at the albeit small but big reminder of who I used to be, the places I have gone and the people I have loved.
The skydiving in Phoenix, Arizona picture. The dive I took with my long-gone x-fiancé that never was to be and our friends. The jump that started the now wrecked and 3 knee surgeries knee - with the man that ruined me for all the years before my now husband found me. Being held by the first magnet I bought living in Colorado, where ultimately - oddly enough, he left me, I left me - I checked out from the world awhile.
The kind of photo's where one of you holds up an arm, and snaps. Ones with my little sister before she even had her braces off, with my nieces when they were too young to object to Auntie Tina snapping a million ridiculous pictures with that arm held out. That magnet I had completely forgot about - the one from the Body Shop saying women were not Barbie's and if we were, we wouldn't be able to walk. It was displayed prominently in my too expensive but most amazing studio apartment in Noe Valley in San Francisco. The apt, that despite having already lived many lives, in many states with many apartments - the one that made me feel all grown up. The one some day I would write a song about, "The window on 24th street."
And the last place I would really call home - with a fridge to put those magnets.
It is in this instant that I finally - in some strange way thanks to these crazy magnets, photo's and what they represent - put to rest the old ghosts, the broken promises, the trails gone cold - the ones I loved that didn't love me back.
It is in this instant that after all these years, chasing something I don't know or even why I am (was?) chasing - I put to rest the girls I used to know. The ones that took shit from men, from strangers, the road. The one that didn't want to live, that fought hard - for far too long, to die.
The me I was running from is as of now, back.
She - me - collected those stories, scars on roads that although made me who I am, will never hold me hostage ever again.
And although I sometimes still live in the past, it took those silly little fridge magnets to remind me to keep hoping for the future.
And even without my guitars and things I finally after all these years have a place for, I am the proud owner of one small fridge and a whole lotta' living.
fearless?
(written January 17, 2008 @ 2:05am)
"...sometimes we depend on other people as a mirror - to define us and tell us who we are..." (my blueberry nights)
There were many times while on the road, touring as a songwriter - usually in small towns in America I just plain burned out.
And it wasn't conscious - planed or otherwise - when I used to think and sometimes say I changed my mind; I do not want any children.
Because believe me, that was something I always had in the back of my mind.
Not so much a dream but a given. Something I just knew I wanted and would be good at. And in some way, my right as a woman - one that deep any ego, I would want to exercise, someday.
So when music came into my life and ultimately, became my life - it understandably took a back burner - but on the other hand, I just wasn't thinking about it.
What started out as an uncontrollable drive to create and share - became also an uncontrollable drive to live my life for others.
You see the more I ran, the faster I went - the more I saw and the more dreams others were convinced I was following - the harder it was to kick the habit.
It became a drug of sorts. A kind of appreciation and admiration I never had before. For the first time in my life, I felt like a leader - even if not my own. 'Vicariously through me' was something I learned and although not originally a very natural feeling, one that I quickly grew accustomed to.
Next thing I knew, I found myself on trains, planes, in foreign cars driving on the wrong side of the road - sleeping in campgrounds or on couches, in airports and train stations... all the while going as fast as I could go and really never knowing how to stop or if I even wanted to. And even when I realized I did want to stop, at that point I was moving so fast and so many people were taking up space in my head, I just couldn't let them down.
So when the subject broached - which was often, where is my boyfriend, my husband - do I want children - I really took no notice and pretty much instantly, had a rebuttal and never looked back.
Somehow, somewhere out there - I left go of the very right I had - that lay back in my mind. The one I knew I would someday exercise.
Because a monkey on my shoulder, one placed not by me but by the way in which I now led my life ... and those I led it for - did that very thing and led me.
You are fearless people would say.
In their emails, letters, conversations... cheering me on.
People watching me, a girl alone with a dream - albeit not entirely mine - going so fast and doing so much that it seemed I just had to be fearless.
But the thing was, like I told my little sister recently - it's not that I was - am, fearless.
I mean in some ways, yes of course. I am. As much and sometimes I think, maybe even more than others.
What I was though was for some reason, compelled merely by the expectations of others - to continue living a fearless life as they saw it.
Perhaps some were in jobs they hated and saw no way out of. Marriages they questioned. Lives in general they too were living for others.
And so they cheered me, supported me and sometimes even gave me money to keep me on my path.
And although I love what singing my songs and singing them for others does to me (and for them) I can't deny that I spent many of the past years, not so much fearless but following expectations. Following them so long and more of, for fear I would let someone, somewhere, somehow down.
Because I know had a purpose of sorts, something I never had. And dammit if I wasn't going to throw that away. Everyone wanted one of those; it must be worth having I thought. The monkey told me so.
So I kept going and all along, knew very well I was missing out on what could possibly be another dream. Not just taking something it turned out I was good at and could finally stick to and being pushed to utilize every last morsel and moment from it. Live the dream they call it.
I am 37 now and after 8 months of marriage, to an Austrian man that did not even speak English when we met - I can say, 8 months into it, I am finally aware what it is I want. My dream and not someone else's expectations.
And although I will continue to do what I am good at and what ultimately in many ways, I love - my music. I have a new view; my eyes are opened to the possibilities of truly living fearless.
Quite possibly not doing the very things that the world at this point in my life, has come to expect from me.
Could it be my clock - could it be my fear of my clock? Could it merely be that it took blazing those trails and living through what turned out to be others fears - that brought me to where I am now?
Ready and completely at peace with the idea of quieting down - paving over the roads I once traveled leaving no more trails to retrace my steps?
Not watching nor listening - and at best, feeling compelled to make decisions based on the expectations of my family, friends fans, readers. No longer keeping them at the seat of their pants - wondering what I will do next, living ... vicariously through me.
Could it be that the original vision I had - on a specific day so many years ago, overlooking the Pacific ocean after a run - could it be that is the dream I for so long did not slow down long enough or stop listening to others unlived lives long enough - to see?
Love in my life, things I love to do, my family, being kind to others, living true?
And in the end, before it's too late - having a family of my own.
That, for me - ultimately, is fearless.
Because if it were up to the girl I knew 10 years ago, even a year ago - I wouldn't even consider upsetting the space of things, the ideas in the heads of those that cheer me - by admitting that maybe, just maybe blazing a trail fearlessly is not for me anymore. That maybe I don't care what conclusion they come to - what they might say about what I do, where I end up. Maybe even stop living vicariously through me. God forbid.
In the end - and there will be one - it is my life and my life alone. I answer only to myself and no matter how fast the world continues to spin and how many people think they know best - the truth is it's our one life, our one chance to do it our way. Sometimes it just takes years to figure that out.
I for one am grateful I saw anything, regardless of how long it took to get there.
So if it's one thing I can leave you with, it's be fearless. I mean, really ... fearless.
"...sometimes we depend on other people as a mirror - to define us and tell us who we are..." (my blueberry nights)
There were many times while on the road, touring as a songwriter - usually in small towns in America I just plain burned out.
And it wasn't conscious - planed or otherwise - when I used to think and sometimes say I changed my mind; I do not want any children.
Because believe me, that was something I always had in the back of my mind.
Not so much a dream but a given. Something I just knew I wanted and would be good at. And in some way, my right as a woman - one that deep any ego, I would want to exercise, someday.
So when music came into my life and ultimately, became my life - it understandably took a back burner - but on the other hand, I just wasn't thinking about it.
What started out as an uncontrollable drive to create and share - became also an uncontrollable drive to live my life for others.
You see the more I ran, the faster I went - the more I saw and the more dreams others were convinced I was following - the harder it was to kick the habit.
It became a drug of sorts. A kind of appreciation and admiration I never had before. For the first time in my life, I felt like a leader - even if not my own. 'Vicariously through me' was something I learned and although not originally a very natural feeling, one that I quickly grew accustomed to.
Next thing I knew, I found myself on trains, planes, in foreign cars driving on the wrong side of the road - sleeping in campgrounds or on couches, in airports and train stations... all the while going as fast as I could go and really never knowing how to stop or if I even wanted to. And even when I realized I did want to stop, at that point I was moving so fast and so many people were taking up space in my head, I just couldn't let them down.
So when the subject broached - which was often, where is my boyfriend, my husband - do I want children - I really took no notice and pretty much instantly, had a rebuttal and never looked back.
Somehow, somewhere out there - I left go of the very right I had - that lay back in my mind. The one I knew I would someday exercise.
Because a monkey on my shoulder, one placed not by me but by the way in which I now led my life ... and those I led it for - did that very thing and led me.
You are fearless people would say.
In their emails, letters, conversations... cheering me on.
People watching me, a girl alone with a dream - albeit not entirely mine - going so fast and doing so much that it seemed I just had to be fearless.
But the thing was, like I told my little sister recently - it's not that I was - am, fearless.
I mean in some ways, yes of course. I am. As much and sometimes I think, maybe even more than others.
What I was though was for some reason, compelled merely by the expectations of others - to continue living a fearless life as they saw it.
Perhaps some were in jobs they hated and saw no way out of. Marriages they questioned. Lives in general they too were living for others.
And so they cheered me, supported me and sometimes even gave me money to keep me on my path.
And although I love what singing my songs and singing them for others does to me (and for them) I can't deny that I spent many of the past years, not so much fearless but following expectations. Following them so long and more of, for fear I would let someone, somewhere, somehow down.
Because I know had a purpose of sorts, something I never had. And dammit if I wasn't going to throw that away. Everyone wanted one of those; it must be worth having I thought. The monkey told me so.
So I kept going and all along, knew very well I was missing out on what could possibly be another dream. Not just taking something it turned out I was good at and could finally stick to and being pushed to utilize every last morsel and moment from it. Live the dream they call it.
I am 37 now and after 8 months of marriage, to an Austrian man that did not even speak English when we met - I can say, 8 months into it, I am finally aware what it is I want. My dream and not someone else's expectations.
And although I will continue to do what I am good at and what ultimately in many ways, I love - my music. I have a new view; my eyes are opened to the possibilities of truly living fearless.
Quite possibly not doing the very things that the world at this point in my life, has come to expect from me.
Could it be my clock - could it be my fear of my clock? Could it merely be that it took blazing those trails and living through what turned out to be others fears - that brought me to where I am now?
Ready and completely at peace with the idea of quieting down - paving over the roads I once traveled leaving no more trails to retrace my steps?
Not watching nor listening - and at best, feeling compelled to make decisions based on the expectations of my family, friends fans, readers. No longer keeping them at the seat of their pants - wondering what I will do next, living ... vicariously through me.
Could it be that the original vision I had - on a specific day so many years ago, overlooking the Pacific ocean after a run - could it be that is the dream I for so long did not slow down long enough or stop listening to others unlived lives long enough - to see?
Love in my life, things I love to do, my family, being kind to others, living true?
And in the end, before it's too late - having a family of my own.
That, for me - ultimately, is fearless.
Because if it were up to the girl I knew 10 years ago, even a year ago - I wouldn't even consider upsetting the space of things, the ideas in the heads of those that cheer me - by admitting that maybe, just maybe blazing a trail fearlessly is not for me anymore. That maybe I don't care what conclusion they come to - what they might say about what I do, where I end up. Maybe even stop living vicariously through me. God forbid.
In the end - and there will be one - it is my life and my life alone. I answer only to myself and no matter how fast the world continues to spin and how many people think they know best - the truth is it's our one life, our one chance to do it our way. Sometimes it just takes years to figure that out.
I for one am grateful I saw anything, regardless of how long it took to get there.
So if it's one thing I can leave you with, it's be fearless. I mean, really ... fearless.
the storm comes just the same...
(written January 10, 2008 @ 1:00am)
Even if the timing was right, I don't think I could go back.
Some days it's an adventure, other days it feels like some kind of experiment -
or just the way things are.
It's only 1am, my first day back.
I slept from an hour past the time we arrived yesterday and this very minute.
Jet lag is a funny a thing - so I guess I am awake again until god knows when.
And even though I have barely stepped foot back in our house, the heavy feeling of life as an expat in Austria - for me - is the one thing that has already landed.
Although my mind and heart are still cozy and warm with my niece Maya on the couch or sitting up late watching movies with my mom, somewhere in this sleepy body there is full understanding it's time to return.
I am so zoned out. After a harrowing 3 long flights with 4 overweight bags, major delays, a not so great long haul to Paris and a bag (suspected bomb) being blown up in the Paris airport while we were there - I am sitting upright in my own bed, with my own covers still wondering how 3 weeks flew so fast and I am back to life in Europe.
Every year heading out for my 6+ months touring and living in England, I would leave the earliest say, May. Sometimes April but usually May was the soonest. So it feels completely unnatural to say the least, that's it's only January and I am back on foreign soil.
The longer I live here - fly out and return, the weirder it gets living abroad.
And even though I have technically been living abroad almost 5 years now, having bought a place and gotten married & being officially in a foreign-speaking country, has made it seem more permanent then ever.
Each time I return to the US or vice versa, I notice more and more things about life in America, life in Europe and myself than I ever imagined. Changes have taken place in both parts of the country that I see so much clearer now. Some things have stayed that same but the way I see them and how they, it or whatever that is affects me, is almost a full 360 degree turn.
Consumerism in America. Drivers and roads, personalities and peoples need to connect, wearing their loneliness on their faces so prominently there is just no way I can miss it, ignore it. That last remark? I am talking about watching the faces in America. I know that's a worldwide statement but I feel the 'coming at me' for it so much more in my homeland.
And because it's the middle of the night and I only went from the airport, to the autobahn to bed, I can't pin down what I see and feel about Austria at this exact moment - but I can tell you the longer I am permanently away (as in not just leaving knowing I will go back and live half the year in the US or for however long) the harder it gets both returning and imagining life in America again - and on the opposite end, coming back home to Europe where my life is now being lived, full-time and imagining never living in America again also throws me off. I feel like I don't have a country or a home - even though home is clearly here in Innsbruck.
When I go back to America, I don't feel home anymore. When I come back to Europe I know I am supposed to but I still question it. And even though I have both traveled far and lived in many different states in America, the things I am seeing and learning now as an expat, are incomparable.
Life as an expat is lived in so many strange stages. And when you are not just passing through as an 8-month student, a tourist or even a half a year resident as I was in England, it can all be such a huge confusing adventure and as I said before, experiment. Some days I am living in the adventure mode and am completely happy to be learning German, acclimating to the Austrians and lifestyle here. Other days, it feels like I'm in a living thesis, just hunting and gathering information, sounds and photos in my mind for later use. And as a songwriter and writer, I suppose that makes sense and it's just what I am doing and have always been doing - but at the end of the day, at times, that is what keeps my homesickness for my family and old life in the US at bay. Knowing I as my mom always says about writing, am just hunting and gathering for the big storm.
And isn't that what we are all doing anyway? What you do with your goods is up to you and who you are.
The storm comes just the same.
Even if the timing was right, I don't think I could go back.
Some days it's an adventure, other days it feels like some kind of experiment -
or just the way things are.
It's only 1am, my first day back.
I slept from an hour past the time we arrived yesterday and this very minute.
Jet lag is a funny a thing - so I guess I am awake again until god knows when.
And even though I have barely stepped foot back in our house, the heavy feeling of life as an expat in Austria - for me - is the one thing that has already landed.
Although my mind and heart are still cozy and warm with my niece Maya on the couch or sitting up late watching movies with my mom, somewhere in this sleepy body there is full understanding it's time to return.
I am so zoned out. After a harrowing 3 long flights with 4 overweight bags, major delays, a not so great long haul to Paris and a bag (suspected bomb) being blown up in the Paris airport while we were there - I am sitting upright in my own bed, with my own covers still wondering how 3 weeks flew so fast and I am back to life in Europe.
Every year heading out for my 6+ months touring and living in England, I would leave the earliest say, May. Sometimes April but usually May was the soonest. So it feels completely unnatural to say the least, that's it's only January and I am back on foreign soil.
The longer I live here - fly out and return, the weirder it gets living abroad.
And even though I have technically been living abroad almost 5 years now, having bought a place and gotten married & being officially in a foreign-speaking country, has made it seem more permanent then ever.
Each time I return to the US or vice versa, I notice more and more things about life in America, life in Europe and myself than I ever imagined. Changes have taken place in both parts of the country that I see so much clearer now. Some things have stayed that same but the way I see them and how they, it or whatever that is affects me, is almost a full 360 degree turn.
Consumerism in America. Drivers and roads, personalities and peoples need to connect, wearing their loneliness on their faces so prominently there is just no way I can miss it, ignore it. That last remark? I am talking about watching the faces in America. I know that's a worldwide statement but I feel the 'coming at me' for it so much more in my homeland.
And because it's the middle of the night and I only went from the airport, to the autobahn to bed, I can't pin down what I see and feel about Austria at this exact moment - but I can tell you the longer I am permanently away (as in not just leaving knowing I will go back and live half the year in the US or for however long) the harder it gets both returning and imagining life in America again - and on the opposite end, coming back home to Europe where my life is now being lived, full-time and imagining never living in America again also throws me off. I feel like I don't have a country or a home - even though home is clearly here in Innsbruck.
When I go back to America, I don't feel home anymore. When I come back to Europe I know I am supposed to but I still question it. And even though I have both traveled far and lived in many different states in America, the things I am seeing and learning now as an expat, are incomparable.
Life as an expat is lived in so many strange stages. And when you are not just passing through as an 8-month student, a tourist or even a half a year resident as I was in England, it can all be such a huge confusing adventure and as I said before, experiment. Some days I am living in the adventure mode and am completely happy to be learning German, acclimating to the Austrians and lifestyle here. Other days, it feels like I'm in a living thesis, just hunting and gathering information, sounds and photos in my mind for later use. And as a songwriter and writer, I suppose that makes sense and it's just what I am doing and have always been doing - but at the end of the day, at times, that is what keeps my homesickness for my family and old life in the US at bay. Knowing I as my mom always says about writing, am just hunting and gathering for the big storm.
And isn't that what we are all doing anyway? What you do with your goods is up to you and who you are.
The storm comes just the same.
Bird watching??
(written January 19, 2008 @ 1:57am)
Are you kidding me?
All I have to say is - thank GAWD my running children's party days are over!
Are you kidding me?
All I have to say is - thank GAWD my running children's party days are over!
nirvana ... and not the music कंद
(written January 17, 2008 @ 10:40pm)
As I sit here smelling onions and garlic waffling throughout the flat, I wonder if the
smell is more enticing than the sit down.
Don't get me wrong, eating is one swell, finely established past-time.
But I'd be lying if my favorite part of each evening, isn't smelling my husbands lovely aromas floating
in and out, around and about, the kitchen, the hallway, the bedrooms, the living room....
And tonight, although I am a bit stuffed up in the nose department - despite such tragedy,
it still comes through loud and clear. *yum*
So albeit brief - a note to all the cooks in the world out there...
We love tasting your food, feeling it in our fingers if it's the right kind, twirling it in our forks
and scooping it with our spoons ... but please remember to slow cook those onions, keep the
wine flowing and turn the music up just a little bit louder.
I promise an even nicer desert will follow.
As I sit here smelling onions and garlic waffling throughout the flat, I wonder if the
smell is more enticing than the sit down.
Don't get me wrong, eating is one swell, finely established past-time.
But I'd be lying if my favorite part of each evening, isn't smelling my husbands lovely aromas floating
in and out, around and about, the kitchen, the hallway, the bedrooms, the living room....
And tonight, although I am a bit stuffed up in the nose department - despite such tragedy,
it still comes through loud and clear. *yum*
So albeit brief - a note to all the cooks in the world out there...
We love tasting your food, feeling it in our fingers if it's the right kind, twirling it in our forks
and scooping it with our spoons ... but please remember to slow cook those onions, keep the
wine flowing and turn the music up just a little bit louder.
I promise an even nicer desert will follow.
meanwhile back in Austria...
(written January 16, 2008 @ 14:34)
Perhaps going shopping, with my bike - one bag and a huge appetite wasn't such a great idea after all.
Of course, it would have helped if I passed the huge bag of almonds and the rice, the apples and the oranges and would have thought for even just a second - exactly how much does this stuff weigh?
Nope.
Like any good shopper will attest to - being reasonable, practical and right brained (or is it left?) will not help you in such situations.
Your tummy is growling and everything - absolutely everything around you looks scrumptious, delicious and exactly what the doctor ordered.
And of course, after my what should have been my ten minute trip to the supermarket - turned into one long hour as I squinted and guessed, hoped and took a gamble - that it really was almond flour and not corn, rice and not well, who knows.
And when it turned out after everything was rung up they didn't take ATM's ... and I hiked it to the bank to with drawl the cash - ahead of me still, awaited the daunting and extremely scary task of getting every last morsel into my itty bitty backpack.
After a harrowing display my fellow shoppers happily scoffed at and crafty I must say packing job of 30 kilos at the very least, of goods - I made my way out. And although my back instantly hurt, my shoulders about to break and my balance just a little bit off - I triumphantly headed for my bike.
...only to find a flat tire.
... ooh but so worth the trouble... ;
Perhaps going shopping, with my bike - one bag and a huge appetite wasn't such a great idea after all.
Of course, it would have helped if I passed the huge bag of almonds and the rice, the apples and the oranges and would have thought for even just a second - exactly how much does this stuff weigh?
Nope.
Like any good shopper will attest to - being reasonable, practical and right brained (or is it left?) will not help you in such situations.
Your tummy is growling and everything - absolutely everything around you looks scrumptious, delicious and exactly what the doctor ordered.
And of course, after my what should have been my ten minute trip to the supermarket - turned into one long hour as I squinted and guessed, hoped and took a gamble - that it really was almond flour and not corn, rice and not well, who knows.
And when it turned out after everything was rung up they didn't take ATM's ... and I hiked it to the bank to with drawl the cash - ahead of me still, awaited the daunting and extremely scary task of getting every last morsel into my itty bitty backpack.
After a harrowing display my fellow shoppers happily scoffed at and crafty I must say packing job of 30 kilos at the very least, of goods - I made my way out. And although my back instantly hurt, my shoulders about to break and my balance just a little bit off - I triumphantly headed for my bike.
...only to find a flat tire.
... ooh but so worth the trouble... ;
whiskey thoughts...
(written Dec. 7, 2007 @ 16:34)
I was in the green room in Vienna, Austria - after a show when I wrote Whiskey Night. That was 2004.
I'm not sure what the connection to whiskey and Austria is - but after having a nice dinner at my friend Lucia's last night, she brought out a bottle of Scotch.
When I left, she said she doesn't really drink Scotch and for me to take it home. *arm pull, arm pull *struggle* *struggle* .. gave in.
Uh-oh.
You see, I gave up whiskey drinking - ok, heavy whiskey drinking after the time I realized while giving an annual songwriting workshop in a small town in Louisiana - that I had maybe just a wee bit too much and searching through the night - in my pajamas, by foot - for fried chicken maybe wasn't such a great idea.
So it wasn't so much a surprise to me that when I got home last night, I had a stare down contest with.
It won and I drank some.
2 or so hours later and I have 4 songs about; whiskey, gold miners, more whiskey and a mountain man in a cabin, drinking whiskey. Yeah, I know.
Something about whiskey brings out this geeeeetar-pickin', foot-stompin, porch-sittin' girl in me. Um.
Today, as I pay for my sins, I remembered Whiskey Night and writing it some years back in Vienna.
So, yeah - I'm not sure what the connection is but honestly, I thought since it was on a tour in Ireland that I REALLY discovered the stuff (Bushmills if you must know, I mean - it is Christmas after all:-) it would be somewhere on those roads I let it go - or perhaps pulled out the notebook and geeetar and went at it.
Now it's off to drink Glühwein & watch the Krampus show with good friends at the Christkindlmarkt. Ok, maybe I will watch THEM drink.
Anyway, don't get me started on Glühwein.
Your whiskey thoughts to start off the weekend.
Advice for the day; Drink it sloooow.
I was in the green room in Vienna, Austria - after a show when I wrote Whiskey Night. That was 2004.
I'm not sure what the connection to whiskey and Austria is - but after having a nice dinner at my friend Lucia's last night, she brought out a bottle of Scotch.
When I left, she said she doesn't really drink Scotch and for me to take it home. *arm pull, arm pull *struggle* *struggle* .. gave in.
Uh-oh.
You see, I gave up whiskey drinking - ok, heavy whiskey drinking after the time I realized while giving an annual songwriting workshop in a small town in Louisiana - that I had maybe just a wee bit too much and searching through the night - in my pajamas, by foot - for fried chicken maybe wasn't such a great idea.
So it wasn't so much a surprise to me that when I got home last night, I had a stare down contest with.
It won and I drank some.
2 or so hours later and I have 4 songs about; whiskey, gold miners, more whiskey and a mountain man in a cabin, drinking whiskey. Yeah, I know.
Something about whiskey brings out this geeeeetar-pickin', foot-stompin, porch-sittin' girl in me. Um.
Today, as I pay for my sins, I remembered Whiskey Night and writing it some years back in Vienna.
So, yeah - I'm not sure what the connection is but honestly, I thought since it was on a tour in Ireland that I REALLY discovered the stuff (Bushmills if you must know, I mean - it is Christmas after all:-) it would be somewhere on those roads I let it go - or perhaps pulled out the notebook and geeetar and went at it.
Now it's off to drink Glühwein & watch the Krampus show with good friends at the Christkindlmarkt. Ok, maybe I will watch THEM drink.
Anyway, don't get me started on Glühwein.
Your whiskey thoughts to start off the weekend.
Advice for the day; Drink it sloooow.
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