Expats Everywhere Do It

If you're reading this and are not (yet) an expat, it probably stumps you a bit why there's so much complaining on our part about the countries we live in.  It can seem ungrateful.  Ugly American-ish (or British, whatever). 

There's a bit of that, of course.  The reality is that we're all used to doing things the way everyone else around us has done them for millenia, and finding out that millions of seemingly intelligent people do them completely differently, can make your brain explode just a little bit.

I've been guilty myself of a tad bit of complaining about Irish differences in the six years I've been here (remember, TV lies!), but here's evidence that it's all part and parcel of the expat experience.  And it doesn't matter at ALL where you go, you're gonna wanna rip somebody's head off once in awhile.  Even in lovely Sweden.

HGTV's House Hunters International in Cork

Finally!  I know it's taken a bit of time, but here is the HGTV House Hunters International episode ("Put a Cork In It!") featuring yours truly.

As a double bonus, you now know what I (kinda) look like -- I've gone natural since filming this, so my hair looks quite a bit different now.  More on that in another post, I hope -- AND my true identity has been outed!  No help for the latter, so gotta go with it.  It probably means I'll be a bit less forthcoming with personal info, but then again I haven't been posting that much lately anyway, so six of one...

When Reality (TV) Isn't Really Real

Bringing truth to the old saying that "what goes around, comes around", I've recently revisited some of my core experiences and feelings from when I first made the move from the U.S. (Raleigh, NC) here to Cork, Ireland.  And, similar to the reasons for that first move, I did it for filthy lucre and the adventure of it all!

Some of you readers who'll be most interested in this ramble down memory lane will have searched out this blog in the 24 hours after having seen me last night on the American cable TV channel, HGTV's program, House Hunters International.  Those of you who didn't catch it are going, "Whaaat?  Why didn't you tell us you were going to be on TV?!"  Because I was terrified, dammit!

Anyway, so here's the skinny.  Involving both truth and lies.  I've had a couple of shocked and questioning emails from new readers about how come my blog says I moved six years ago but my HHI episode last night, Put A Cork In It! (Season 56, Episode 3) said I just moved?

The truth is, reality TV is not 100% real!  Are you surprised?  Me too!  Going through the experience of filming this episode in December 2012 (backstory with my sister and her family in Miami) and January 2013 (Cork scenes) showed me just how carefully crafted, tweaked, and re-rehearsed these shows are.  By the time you've gone through your interviews over and over, saying the same thing in just slightly different ways, but all to the direction of the Director, and have filmed every scene with 4 or 5 different takes so the cameraman (person, but they were both actually men) can get reaction shots, alternate angles, and cutaways, every word of truth coming out of your mouth and every instinctive action or reaction feels... well, fake.

And then they take the 7 hours of filming the family backstory scene (just as the first example) and cut it down so much that the editing room floor is littered I tell you, littered!  All the work!  All that angst.  All that slooowwwlllyyyyyy draining energy, all for 3 or 4 minutes of quick clips mixed up together, that somehow do give a glancing overview of the underlying reality of it all.

Did I love it?  Yes and no.  It was tiring, and made me feel just slight dirty for taking part in it at all.  But, it was also LOADS of fun and really, really eye opening.  The producer in London that I worked with and the crew in both locations were gold star professionals and, by the end of the day, we all were having a great time together.  I tried not to make it too much work for them, and they... well, they made me work for it, but they did their jobs well.  The proof in the pudding is that, despite my massive panic building up to the airing on HGTV last night, I didn't actually come off that bad.  There were a lot of weird hand movements in the initial interviews - LOL, but the camera's extra 10 lbs were mostly hidden by my coat (excellent outfit choices, if I do say so myself) and I didn't come across as either too fake or a crazy person.  You laugh, but this was my real worry.  Hey, I said stop laughing!

In answer to the main email and blog comment question I've had:  It was actually relatively easy for me to get on the show.  As an (Jamaican) American expat who blogged about the experience for a good while, I actually rejected several invitations over the years to take part.  And I'm not the only one who's ever got approached.  I always thought that 1) you had to actually be in the the process of moving and 2) you had to be actually buying a "house".  As has now been proved, neither of those are true.  You just have to have a sort of interesting story and be relatively articulate.  The bar isn't ridiculously high.  In large part, I'd say, because they produce a huge number of episodes (at least one new one per weekday) and so are always in need of content. 

To answer another question specific to non-US residents, the episode is only airing in the U.S. for now.  Hulu has the show, but they're still months behind.  The Travel Channel in the U.K. is currently airing episodes from August of 2012, so my episode might actually be showing this time next year.  You'll be happy to hear though that I plan to upload the DVD copy to YouTube once I get it in my hot little hands a few weeks from now, so you can be on the lookout for that.

 Ok, that's it, that's pretty much the relevant parts of the story.  Except to say a heartfelt (truly and deeply) thanks to all the strangers who have stalked researched me and sent really very sweet emails saying how much they loved the episode and my story.  I'm more touched than I expected to be.  Thank you.

Edited Note 8/10/13:  I realize I never actually answered the burning question... yes, I was already living in Cork, and in my apartment, when we filmed the episode.  They did it as a (silent) retrospective of my experience.  A mover emptied out my apartment so they could film it as one of the 3 choices.  Weird, but that's how they roll.  All that stuff about visiting my family in Miami and shopping for Jamaican food really happened right before I left the U.S. 6 years ago.  They just recreated it ;)  About the Cork scenes, I'd already visited Blarney Castle several times and kissed it once during a flying visit 20+ years ago.  I was made to kiss it 4 more times during filming takes!  The cooking lesson scene with my friend, Margaret, who owns www.umnumnum.ie (a catering and cooking school), was a first for me, but so much fun!  I never knew soda bread was that easy to make.  It was yummy, too. 

Sun, Wine, and The Long Holiday Weekend

Sun shining, patio door wide open to the city skyline.  Nine pm and the start of the long, holiday weekend.  Summer in Ireland, and the living is good!  Can you spot the glass of wine?

EU Overlords, Welcome to North Carolina!

I KNEW I made the right decision when I moved here to Ireland from North Carolina.  Now even economists are telling me I was right :-)

OK, so the economy here is in disarray and we're all (by this I mean ME) panicked that our salaries are going to get dumped in the toilet, but here is somebody saying not only that some of the basics of the economy are actually quite strong, but that Ireland is North Carolina's sister state.

I knew it all along!

Trust on Fire

In another one of those incidents fitting the category "It Would Never Happen In America", we just had a fire drill at work this morning.

Now, forget the fact that this is the first one we've had in the THREE years I've been here (!); something even more shocking happened.

Of everyone in the building, almost all of whom are female, only one other woman brought out her handbag!!  Am I the only one who thinks that is just weird?

I've gotten used to the whole not locking my car door thing while I'm driving, but this... this is just crazy!  Or... is it me still stuck in the American suspicious mindset?

An Actual Summer

Sunglasses on the drive on into work.  A persistent house fly.  Car windows that need to be left cracked open. 

It's almost like being back home in the Triangle (Raleigh-Durham-Chapel Hill/Carrboro) again.  Now all we need are some dogwood petals, violent yellow pollen staining everything, and debilitating heat and humidity :-)  Ahh, good times!

You Shouldn't Have!

Here's another unexpected, sweet but sometimes confusing difference in how things work over here.  "Work" pun intended!  I've never been to so many goodbye lunches or contributed to so many birthday/baby/goodbye gifts.  I'm attributing this to a strong cultural value placed on generosity, one that sometimes seems overboard to me coming as I do from an Americanized background.

Some examples:  a short-term contract worker ("locum") comes to the expected end of her time and everyone assumes there will be a lunch, flowers and gift.  An intern approaches the conclusion of his year-long rotation and lunch out with the whole team is a must, as is another collection around the whole building for a nice gift..  Milestone birthdays as well are marked by contributions, good food and expensive baubles.

Now, don't get me wrong.  Please don't.  I'm not stingy.  Nor do I have a heart the size of a shriveled peach.  I care about people. I really do!  I'm just not used to all this celebration and gift-giving for what I'd see as normal comings and goings.  In my previous life, work was work except for the special things (e.g., new babies on a close team, etc).  Interns come and go.  So do contract workers.  There's nothing really special about that.  Except... I must be wrong because here there is.

Case in point, a coworker and I just concluded running a group for parents as part of our overall service to our clients.  At the final session, we each received a card.  Very nice of you.  Thanks, but you really didn't have to.  I so wasn't expecting it!  Nor was I expecting... this:

Really?  Isn't this a little above and beyond?

What was I saying?

Wine and tapas-fueled conversational topics at Cafe Gusto tonight, egged on by Sabrina Dent and her friends Grace and Catherine (did I mention the excellent wine?):

• The validity (or lack of) of ethnic self-identification by non-immigrant (e.g., 2nd or 3rd generation, etc) Caucasians in the U.S. (don't blame me for this one!)
  
• Obama's chances of winning re-election in 2012 (Ok, yeah, this one was mine)
  
• The beauty of the neti pot (see my previous post here)
  
• Differences between the use of the family doctor and specialist gynecologist by women in the U.S. vs. Ireland
  
• Childbirth
• Liking or not liking your progeny
• Mental health status of old flames
• Why is it that my friends and family STILL haven't found me a cute guy
  
• Why parents of my patients piss me off so often
  
• The deficits in Ireland's foster care system
• Similarities between Ireland and Jamaica (see one of my blog's most read posts here)
  
• Different world views between Jamaicans (West Indians in general) and AA's
• How the attached found/met their spouses and (have I mentioned?) the need for my friends to get on the ball and introduce me to their single male friends!
• How my standards/requirements for men have changed (e.g., drastically reduced) as I've gotten older

I wasn't bored :-)

Brainwashed by Eurovision

There's no other explanation - it must be Stockholm Syndrome. Oh no, even the name taunts me!

The first year I was here to hear about it, 2008, I was confused. What the heck? Why? What's the point? And why a turkey?!

The second year, I remember turning my nose up in disdain at the silly Europeans and their weird song contest with the silly costumes and the bizarre dances and the totally unnecessary hoopla.

This year, bring on the Eurovision Song Contest! I actually set the DVR to tape it, found myself twittering about it, and was insulted (insulted I tell you!) that we in Ireland weren't allowed to vote tonight.

Sigh.

Resistance is Futile

The assimilation continues... sorta. Today I spontaneously and unselfconsciously asked my (office) Team mates, "Shall we have a spot of tea?"

Now, I'm no longer surprised by my capitulation to the dominance of the tea break. Or to the gentle, questioning mode for making a suggestion. But, where the heck did "a spot" come from? That's the British style, not Irish.

Maybe, it's too much U.K. TV. Or maybe I'm just resisting the humiliation of actually hearing myself suggest we get "a cuppa". All I know is it's a battle zone inside my head and the U.S. ain't winning!

Wait... what?

Common sights here that still make me do a double take or go "huh", even after 2-1/2 years:

Shoppers walking away from the grocery store with 1, 2, even a stack of items in their hands. Likely they either forgot their reusable bags and didn't want to pay the 21 cents for a cheap plastic one, or didn't have anymore space in their backpack/shoulder bag/etc.

Dogs being walked without being on the leash. Small dogs, big ones, scary ones, multiple ones. And forget pooper scooping. I think I've seen a couple of people with the telltale plastic bags in their hands since I've been living here. Keeping an eye on the sidewalk when you're walking is always a smart idea. You never know what doggy "gift" you might run into.

Men and boys pushing prams/strollers while out for their walk or strolling around the neighborhood.

Color-dotted sheep roaming the fields. What's the meaning of the pink and blue markings?

Tiny little cars everywhere. So cute!

Last Minute Panic

What is it with guys? Or maybe it's just Irish guys.

Barely a whisper of interest at the (salsa) club all night and I leave demoralized by the lack of dancing. Then 2:00 am hits and the minute the lights go on I'm getting random lines thrown at me left and right. The whole walk home is an exercise in keeping a straight face while getting hit on by the drunk and the unlucky.

Should I just be pleased that I'm getting any interest at all or insulted that it all seems to be prompted by last minute desperation?

I think I'm choosing Door #2.

Invitation Accepted

So, yes, I finally did turn in the guest post kindly requested by another fave blogger of mine, Niamh Griffin of Writer on the Way Home, and I even beat my deadline! :-)

I'm kind of giddy about the whole thing. It's just so cool that someone likes my writing enough to want more than what I naturally sputter out on my own site.

It's up today, so head on over and check it out. And tell me what you think - comments are a blogger's best friend!

Anniversary Reflections

We're now officially in July and you know what that means?! It's now just 2 weeks shy of two years since I started this mad adventure. Shock and awe!!

I could go on and on about what this experience has meant to me - actually I have, ad nauseum via this blog :-) But maybe the quickest way to capture how much I've been changed is through a look at how my language has changed. It may seem superficial on the surface, but language (grammar, spelling, usage) has always been an integral and deliberate part of how I present myself to the world. And changes therein have always represented core shifts in how I see myself and feel about who I've become.

I remember moving to Miami from Jamaica when I was nine. How strange everything was - flat, wide open, covered in tarmac. But, the greatest point of friction was the differences in language. I was a native English-speaker, but Jamaican English and it's Patois counterpart were not the same as American English. And, of course, as the outsider, my way was the wrong way. Not only did I sound strange with my Jamaican accent - it would be several years before I got the benefit of sounding "exotic" once I moved away from Florida - but the King's English that I spoke and wrote actually got me in trouble. It took several months for me to start getting the A's on spelling tests that I always strove for (and deserved!) because I would refuse or forget to spell words without the "u". Humor, color, flavor, etc.

Then I moved here to Ireland, and I started getting noticed for the weirdest thing! Suddenly, my language and accent started identifying me to others as American!! And, again, I was exotic. Ahh, how I'd missed it :-)

Now I found myself going through a strangely familiar experience. Holding on to my "normal" way of saying things while feeling acutely aware of sticking out by sounding different. The local way of saying things sounded both strange and fascinating. If I'd found myself somewhere that spoke a foreign language, I'd have been eager to try it out and show my respect by trying to make myself understood in the local lingua franca. But, because it was still (technically) English, I was resistant to the idea of making a fool of myself by trying to sound Irish. Plus, why give up being "exotic" again? I like being different. I was unique again.

Ah, but time moves on and before you know it you've been infected! First it was the little lilt at the end of every sentence. Then, it was substituting the gentle inquiry-style sentence for the brash, direct American one ("Will we go to the pub?" vs. "Let's go get a drink"). Now? Now, I'm stuck. I hear myself choosing to use the Irish vocabulary automatically, but it's too late, I've already said it - "That's grand", "Ring me", "Your new car's boot is tiny!", "Take the lift to the 3rd floor", "Where's your toilet" or "I've got to go to the loo".

The truth is I've almost stopped wincing every time I hear myself. The next step will be to not even notice what I'm saying. I've already found myself searching for the American term for certain words and concepts - how do you say "tailback" in American again? The process is well on it's way and clearly there's nothing I can do about it outside of abandoning my new life here and going back to the States.

Nah, I'll just live with it. Happily.

Stir Crazy and Blocked

10 weeks. Ten weeks! That's how long it's been since I last had internet access at home. I'm shocked (and appalled) every time I actually try to comprehend the reality of it. Who in their right mind, having enjoyed the "benefits" of technology, would willingly put themselves in the position of being cut off from such a big part of their world?

Not me!! All I wanted to do was move to a (geographically and economically) better apartment. Who knew I would get caught up in the toils of what really feels like a third world telephony infrastructure?! Who knew I would become, among my friends and acquaintances, the poster-girl for the perils of "the Irish way" of doing things?

Finally today, after multiple false starts and outright misinformation from the various phone/broadband companies over the last several weeks, I found the one, single, discrete, UNO technical support person apparently in all Ireland who figured out where they had gone wrong and helped me find my way into the datastream again.

So, thank you Mr. Technical Support Man at Imagine! Thank you for actually returning my call after going off to figure out what the problem was. (The last guy never did). Thank you for picking up on the incomprehensible error your company had made. Thank you for saving my sanity!!

Now, if you could just help me recall all the wonderful ideas I had for posts to this blog over the past 2 months, I'd really appreciate it.

Maybe not quite so American anymore

I watched the Eurovision song contest tonight from start to finish and snarkily enjoyed every minute of it. Especially the hotness of Mr. Denmark and Mr. Greece :-)

In the last month I've also gotten semi-hooked on Britain's Got Talent. I don't even like the American version!

Unbelievable.... and not in a good way

What kind of ridiculous third world infrastructure do they have in this country?!

As you can tell I'm pretty pissed off at the moment. Sadly, I haven't had access to either the internet or Sky TV for 3 weeks now, ever since I moved into my new apartment. That's a really loooong time to be cut off from the world. No email, no websurfing, no Skype, no blogging(!) except for what little I can get done on my iPhone (which, amazing as it is, is NOT a longterm substitute for a full-size computer). And why? Because the waiting period for hooking up my phone line with Eircom is ridiculously and inexplicably long.

But I tolerated it because they gave me a specific date that it would be turned on. They lie!! When I called today to find out why the technician never came, I get some sorry ass story about it being a new building and the date they gave me was only an early estimate. Hah! That's not what you told me both times I called to verify my order!

The actual truth is that it could take up to JUNE before they get their apparently single technician for the whole damn country to saunter on by!!!

What am I supposed to do till then? Are they serious? Even Jamaica does better than this.

Can you tell I'm pissed beyond belief?!

Unexpected Compliment of the Month

Driving instructor at end of 1st "lesson": "You're a lovely driver. You should have no problem passing the exam."

Me inside my head: "WOOHOO!!! I'm good, I'm good, I'm so freakin' good! [sung in childish melody]"

**Note: Decided to be smart and take a few lessons before my driving exam next week for my full Irish license (and lower insurance). Of course I had to wait 6 months afer passing the theory test (by the skin of my teeth) to take it. Apparently 20 years of experience driving in the states wasn't enough!

**Extra Note: Passing your driving exam is a HUGE deal here, considering almost 50% of those who take it fail! They even have cards in the shops for congratulating the lucky ones who pass :-)

Am I spoiled?

In preparation for my apartment move in 2 weeks - YEAH! - I popped over to An Post at lunch yesterday to pick up a change of address form.

Imagine my surprise, shock and outright horror at the realization that there's a charge for this service! Really? You need to rip me off for €55 just to transfer my mail for a measly 3 months?!!

I can understand this for businesses, but I may get 4 pieces of mail a week given the wonderful dearth of junk mail here. Why do I need to get charged in the first place?

I hate to resort to the "this doesn't happen in America" mantra, but.... Am I just spoiled? Does this make sense to anybody else?