Anniversary
Traveling from my isolated lifestyle in Deutschland to weeks of nonstop socializing in my former hometown was less of a shock that you might imagine. I had weeks of hugs and salmon dinners and giggling nephews and catching up and going out.
Friends and relatives and acquaintances asked me on a daily basis if I “like” living in Germany. I have a no-lying policy (just ask Jeff, we’re constantly debating the merits of little white lies), so while it was tempting to say it’s great to live the European lifestyle and lounge around in my jammies all day long, I had to admit that it’s been a difficult year.
When I returned to Nurnberg last weekend, dragging two enormous suitcases (don’t worry, pregnancy watchers, I had a luggage cart), I was struck with how much it felt like that day, almost exactly one year ago, when Jeff and I landed at the very same airport, hauling the same suitcases, to begin our European adventure. We had only a vague idea of the craziness ahead of us; we expected language barrier frustrations (check!), period of adjustment to new job/no job (double check!), and feelings of isolation (quadruple check). We did not anticipate the months of hotel living, the frustration with apartment hunting, the hostile feelings we would develop toward a culture that, some days, seemed like it was designed to make outsiders feel small and stupid. The good stuff – scenic travel, the chance to see Europe-dwelling family members, World Cup mayhem, new tastes and sounds and smells and immersion in a culture different than our own – was mixed in there too, and fortunately some great stuff – the sushi joint down the street, and the kind next-door neighbor, for example – was just as unexpected.
Throw all of that together, and it’s still hard to say I like living here. I like the amazing pastries at the bakery up the street. I like our modern, Ikea-style apartment. I like having time to write, and read interesting books, and try new recipes. I like visiting places I’ve seen on postcards, without the jetlag or the expense of transAtlantic travel. I like having an opportunity to re-evaluate my future – career, family, lifestyle. But there are days when I feel like that opportunity came at the high price of stripping away everything that made me feel like a confident and capable person, with an identity of my own. I imagine these feelings aren’t unusual for a so-called expat trailing spouse, and some days they’ve hit me like waves. When I learned I was pregnant, the joy and anticipation arrived along with the hormones and the difficulty in imagining yet another huge change in our lives. Fortunately, we rode that rollercoaster and arrived at a place where we can’t wait to meet our son (did I mention that it’s a boy?!) in person.
I was worried about returning to Germany, and though it’s been only a few days, things are going all right so far. It might just be the post-shopping high (imagine how many onesies and receiving blankets it takes to fill an entire extra suitcase), or the residual Slurpee syrup coursing through my digestive tract, but I’m optimistic. I think the coming year is going to be a good one. And while we are about to undertake another life change that will involve sleeplessness, a new language, and a change of identity, at least we have had some practice. Besides, the bakery opens in the darkest hours of the morning, and it’s just up the street.