Tall Guy and I live "abroad".
We were in a German spa-town where one could shop at an organic farmers market, pray in a stunning cathedral, find hip shoes (even in my size), hike, taste wine, and of course go to the spa.
Now we're in the fast-paced metropolis of London where one can sit quietly and contemplate art, take a high speed train to Paris, spend from 8 to 8000 pounds on a pair of pants, eat food from any country in the world, and top off the day with a cocktail topped with gold flakes (well, if one is rich or royal, anyway).
Sounds like a dream vacation, doesn't it?
Anyway, Tall Guy and I are foreign passport holders,
we have to fly to get to our homes and adjust our watches when we get there,
and we visit museums and take road trips on weekends,
we are not on vacation.
No, we are not on vacation. We are expats. And expats must work and vacuum and grocery shop and go to the gym.
"Oh boo hoo," you say, "I work and vacuum and grocery shop and go to the gym too, what's the difference?"
Well, "pats" work and vacuum and grocery shop and go to the gym, and expats work and vacuum and grocery shop and go to the gym in another culture.
Don't get me wrong: This is not a woe-is-me, poor--little-tall-girl kind of post, not in the least! I know that Tall Guy and I are extremely blessed to have the opportunity to live abroad and get to know different places, and I'm extremely thankful for it. This is just a post touching base with reality, and the reality is that we live here.
We live here: we both worked late on Friday (Tall Guy so late that we had to cancel our date) and Tall Guy worked on Saturday, and... today, we are out of lemons and eggs, the iron is clogged with lime, the Internet people didn't come again,Tall Guy spilled chopped onion all over the floor, I broke a glass, my books are due at the library, I have to return a pair of pants that are too short and sometimes neither of us understand what people are saying.
We live here: one day I walked all around Hyde Park and Kensington Gardens, we swim together twice a week, we had lunch at home together today (hamburg patties topped with cheddar and mushrooms with a gorgeous spring salad), I still have half of the Saturday paper to read, we're enjoying the spring weather in our private community garden, Strathvegas (a high school friend) and I meet up for shopping and drinks, Tall Guy and I go to the cinema and right now I've got a batch of cookies on the go (watch for the recipe later this week).
The good, the bad, the exploring, the boring: the point is, we do it all, and while this week might have been more "overtime" and "domestic drudgery" than "high flying fun", that's ok, we live here, we can catch that exhibition next week, we'll eat at that new place after the hype has died down and we can get a reservation, we'll check out that new shop tomorrow. Today we'll do laundry, we'll get lemons and eggs, we'll have a quiet evening with a stack of books.
What did you, pat or expat reader, do this weekend? Feel free to share a byte of your reality.