So I think we've finally caught our breath just a bit, with our post-vacation lives. Georges caught a nasty head cold on the flight back, and I'm still trying to get over the air-conditioning-induced sinusitis attack I got while we were away. I've done the food shopping and a few loads of laundry, although not all of it, and I still need to get in touch with the cleaning lady because this place is a disaster. (Also? Our piece-of-shit wood-laminate floors, newly installed before we took possession of the keys, that looked so nice and so pretty, are now heaving and buckling with the summer humidity and extra rain we've had, so our entry hall and living room looks like we've got a skate-boarding obstacle course instead of a floor. Luckily, we're just the renters, but STILL.) I've booked my flights to/from NJ and we've lined up child-care for the Little Guy for the days when I'll be gone and Georges will be working, so that's all good; unfortunately the timing of this trip means I will miss both the school rentrée AND the Little Guy's 9th birthday, but I'll look around for some novel or interesting special gift to bring back with me. I'm not sure what kind of gift that might be since I will mainly be hanging out in/around my hometown taking care of Mom, and there are NO historical points of interest or cool things to do in that part of the world where a suitable souvenir might be found (because I really don't think it's appropriate to give a child a t-shirt that says "New Jersey: We Don't Fucking Like You, Either"). And now, just having just got done with one plane trip and unpacked, I am faced with doing it all over again. Including getting my boobs groped by airport security AGAIN unless I decide to go bra-less this time. (Which honestly? I just might, DD's or no DD's. Consider yourselves forewarned if you're on my flights between Paris and Newark, I may be going commando. Get over it.) And I found some time today to work on a special project for a client/friend, and also to tweak the design of the blog just a bit (in case you hadn't noticed).
WHEW! I'm already tired again, simply re-reading what I just wrote, because it proves what a run-on sentence my life can be at times. Because, you know, the Universe has a sense of humor and likes to screw with me whenever it's got nothing better to do, just for kicks. I guess gangrene in my gall bladder and a critically ill mother an ocean away wasn't enough of a thrill-ride this summer, because for good measure there was also a scary situation where someone I care about had a BULLET come flying through her window at 1am; and she lives in what we think of as a decent neighborhood. We got the news about THAT the same day I found out my mother was in intensive care. (And thankfully, she's fine, although she got a little bit cut by some flying glass).
I will really need to take up drinking as a new hobby, if this keeps up. At least here in France, I know where I can get some quality hooch at reasonable prices.
Who the hell needs the insanity and drama of reality TV, anyway? Welcome to MY reality show, the "Real Paris-New Jersey Housewives Extreme Home No-Makeover World" -- the Ex-Pat Edition, that is. Where I get to travel to and live in interesting places with the person I love most in all the world, and where I get to do amazing things I wouldn't be able to do if I were back home (seriously, Turkey? I never thought I'd be going to freaking TURKEY, but now I've got the stamp in my passport. And SWIMMING WITH DOLPHINS?! 'Nuf said), and where I'm so happy with my life... but where there is a certain level of craziness built in. Where I not only have to deal with a new language and culture and integrating myself into a new world, but where I also sometimes have to make difficult choices regarding my personal relationships, because I can't be in two places at once. You know, human cloning being frowned upon and all that.
The whole time my mother was in the first days of her illness, I wavered about whether or not I should fly home RIGHT THEN because something really bad might be happening, or if I should wait it out and come back when I could be useful. And of course we had this big vacation planned and paid for, coming right on the heels of my own scary illness and surgery, and all of THAT had to be taken into account as well. Waiting proved to be the right thing (thanks to my mother's doctors who found a way to treat her without risky surgery), and the timing of my trip is what is best and most practical now, but don't think I wasn't sweating THAT decision and hoping I wouldn't regret waiting. I can see that, as my mother is aging, this is only the first such difficult family juggling act I will need to do over the years. Things will happen, sometimes even good things like holidays and special family celebrations in one place or the other, and I'll want to be there for all of it, but sometimes I won't be able to be THERE because I'll need to be HERE; or else I'll go THERE, and in the process there will be things HERE that I'll miss out on or where it puts an additional burden on Georges (not that he's complaining).
This is the part all the travel books and the "how to live abroad" advice guides don't seem to warn you about, at least not enough: the part where you discover what it's like to have conflicting demands on your emotional and physical presence in the lives of everyone you care about both far and near, and how hard it is to keep everyone--including yourself--happy; where you have to re-prioritize whenever things (whether good or bad) are going on "here" and "back there"; and where you get to feel guilty about all of it no matter how hard you try not to feel that way. Because guilt not only sucks, it's even more stupid and pointless than reality TV, and it doesn't change anything, anyway. In summary, yes, when you live abroad, you DO get to live your dream life and you have every right to be happy about that, but sometimes there is a hidden price tag attached. And this is what it looks like.
So when you choose to live abroad (or even just far away from your roots), not only are you juggling the normal details of daily life, work, family, and so on, like we all have to do all the time (believe me, I know you've got lives and problems and dramas of your own)... but you have this added dimension of stress and guilt whenever important things are going on in your "old" life as well as in your "new" one. And the thing is? It's always going to be that way, the magnetic pull to be at opposite life poles. We know this, we ex-pats, but that doesn't make it easier. This isn't a problem you get to solve once and for all, like, say, knowing that eventually I'll get French citizenship and can one day stop dealing with the "immigrant" side of living here; instead, it's something you have to manage and juggle whenever it comes up, sometimes with no warning or time to even reflect. It's just how it is.
Which is why I don't watch reality TV anymore or even spend much time watching the news on TV. There's enough daily drama (as well as comedy and romance) in my life as it is.
And besides, I prefer to think of the Jersey Shore as a just great place to spend a vacation (or even a honeymoon). "Snooki" and that whole trashy, sleazy, stereotyped crew on that show? Definitely not MY reality.
