Attitude and Expressions!

In line with yesterday's blog post I thought I'd publish this famous quote by William James, father of American psychology: “The greatest discovery of my generation is that you can change your circumstances by changing your attitudes of mind”.

I know I have changed my attitude of mind... therefore, I am now wondering when will the circumstances start to follow me?

My expressions certainly are all pointing in the right direction. My top 10 most used words are:
1. Definately
2. Perfect
3. Absolutely
4. Brilliant
5. Fantastic
6. No problem!
7. Ok!
8. Really?
9. Oh, just get on with it!
10. Now!!!

I'll always have Paris

Can you be in one place for too long? Depends on what floats your boat I suppose.

Our family is used to moving from one country to the next every few years. It seems, however, that we are stuck in Paris. Of course, you are thinking to yourself, there are worse places to be stuck in the world and you are absolutely right! I have blogged about my itching to move on before and the reasoning.

As of late, however, I have come across a few posts by Expatriate Magazine and I was shocked to hear my spontaneous answers to their open ended questions.

One of the most overrated things in Paris has to be ______
One thing I admire about the French is ______
What's your favourite French word that you like to slip in when you can?
How has living in France bettered you?
What are the strangest things you've heard from a neighbour through those thin walls?

When I start speaking out loud to myself it is never a good sign but to hear my gut reaction is a clear signal that we have served our time in this location.

By now, my family and I see straight through all the romantic connotations and emotions that Paris evokes because - the heart of the matter is - living in Paris is a different ballgame than being here on holiday. Dealing with endless bureaucracy, general strikes and bad weather is just the tip of the iceberg.

Paris has been good to us and we have definately made the most of our stay but it still doesn’t feel like home and we could happily explore and conquer a new destination.

In the meantime, I will keep posting photos of the Eiffel Tower sharing moments of romantic French vibes with my friends and followers.

Dark clouds in paradise

Could it possibly be the end of a love story? Is it the seven year curse? Is it just a phase or have I definatly fallen out of love? I am craving for a new challenge, dying to move on and my feet have been tapping the ground for a while now.

It has been sliding into my mind slowly but steadily, the feeling of frustration. It seems I have lost the excitement of living in Paris… and I'm starting to wonder, "What on earth am I doing here?"

This gloomy mood at the early stages of living abroad has a name: It is called the expat blues! But what do you call the yearning to move on to your next destination? When you cannot wait to learn a new language, discover a new culture, battle yet another foreign bureaucracy, make a bunch of new friends, start a new cycle and yes... feel you are starting all over again?

Of course, Paris is beautiful. The Eiffel Tower puts a smile on my face every time I walk passed it... still, everyday, after over seven years! The opportunities in this city are vast but so are the daily hurdles. None of it is exciting anymore! I am feeling much too grounded.

Might I be seeking cross-cultural stress or just a foreign infrastructure to tackle. I find myself remembering what inspires me in life, what thrives me and what fulfills me. It is travelling out of my comfort zone and creating a new safe space for my family.

No matter how mindful I might be, life without inspiration is like a black and white photograph of a rainbow. So, I am hoping the dark clouds will pass at least until Expat Girl has finished her high school. In the meantime I will have come up with a plan...

Celebrating Women's Day

"The house does not rest upon the ground, but upon a woman"

Mexican Proverb... one of my favourite.

Happy Women's Day!

The first day of the rest of your life

It’s buzzing!!! Buzzing with electric energy, with nervous teenagers, with anxious parents, with excitement, anticipation and the foreboding of embarking onto a new path of life.

391 new students are registering today at the Swiss university that Expat boy has decided to enroll in. Queuing to receive the welcome kit with the personalized checklist of thing to do at specific times with a campus map attached as not to get lost.

The process works like clockwork just as I would imagine the army to work in this tiny well-organized country. Moving along from one post to the next from the Swiss authorities desk, past IT, to uniform pick-up until we reach the compact - and yes, perfectly compartmented - student room that Expat boy will share for the next six months. Welcome letter and Toblerone chocolate are neatly laid out on his bed.

Watching my big boy find his footsteps in an environment that he’ll be calling home for the next four years I cannot be anything else but hugely proud of what a handsome young man he has turned into. Very agitated but nevertheless poised never loosing his Italian cool he walks through the parcour worried about what could go wrong but excited about the prospect of University life.

I observe other parents from all parts of the globe seeing their kids off on their new adventure away from home. Judging by the diversity and languages I am surrounded by it seems like the natural continuation to the International school Expat boy just graduated from.

I am happy in the knowledge that my boy has chosen the right path and that this place has not only been his goal for the past four years but it is also the perfect fit for his personality and his choice of career.

It has been a very long time since he has called his Mama for help so many times in one day and I restrain myself from taking pictures as not to embarrass him... nevertheless he will always remain my big baby boy whom albeit having his Father’s character has his Mama’s looks.

Since he was a little boy I have told him to work hard and play hard and today we have come full cycle. The closing phrase of today’s welcome letter was:
“We wish you all the best for the next 4 years: success, memorable memories, friendship... but don’t forget: “WORK HARD, PLAY HARD”

Go get’em pumpkin!

It's a sad day but let's celebrate!

Today was a sad day. The last day of school should be a happy one but this time of year comes with mixed feelings for our family. We've been through the motions so many times, saying goodbye to Expat friends who are leaving for new destinations time and time again.

The first round of Au Revoirs after only two years in Paris was tough. Many of the friends our family had made upon our arrival were heading on and seeing them leave hurt like hell.

Over the following years I realised that maybe WE were the lucky ones because so many of the leavers would have rather stayed in Paris. So for some years, I convinced myself that I was the fortunate one. My kids never quite bought this idea, needless to say!

I do admit I have toughened up a little. Friendships made later on are not quite as intense as they seemed to be when we first started our Parisian adventure. However, despite my resolution of being brave every year one or two people's farewell words and gestures have me tear up immediately.

It breaks my heart when I see the children hugging their little buddies in the school yard with tears in their eyes and their mums looking on helplessly also in floods of tears. It hurts just watching them.

On the other hand, these emotions are a strong testimony of how close one becomes in a short amount of time, how bonded one feels and how many memories one has created together.

Imagine having to leave a place you had called home for a few years without a tear in your eye or a chip in your heart?

With this in mind, it is with a glass of champagne that we celebrated our friendship today during the traditional end-of-school-year picnic, thankful to have met each other, hoping that one day our paths might cross again.

Bon Voyage et à bientôt mes amis!

How long do you intend to be an Expat?

How long do you intend to be an Expat was the question put out to the community by my favourite blogger 4 kids, 20 suitcases and a beagle. My gut answer would be: it's a mindset as much as it is a formal posting abroad.

Technically I have been an Expat all my life; my family left my native country when I was two. I grew up as a Third World Kid, only at the time I didn't know I belonged to either of these two groups. As a matter of fact I didn't fit in anywhere. All through childhood my two best friends were "misfits" just like me. I realise today "being different" is what we had in common and created a bond that still keeps us close after decades.

My parents didn't see themselves as Expats once they decided to settle in Switzerland, so we simply became foreigners calling Zürich our home surrounded by an enormous Anglo-saxon community.

It was only after I married and moved to Argentina that I started defining myself as an Expat... and this opened up a whole new universe. A world where you dare to step out of what is normal, simply because you don't always realize what is considered normal in your host country. Family and friends are far away which means you need to rely on yourself but this also gives you the freedom to explore and re-invent yourself time and time again depending of your destination.

Now THIS is where I found my fit! Thriving with every move and jumping head first into every new adventure, trailblazing making sure my family could keep up.

Being an Expat to me equals venturing out towards new boundaries, opening yourself up without giving yourself up, embracing changes and rising to challenges. It means pushing yourself that extra bit and making the effort to learn the language, meet the natives and explore the local culture.

You change with every expatriation just like your kids mature after every trip you take them on. Places impact you, people leave a mark, cultures influence your character and age shapes your attitude.

After 10 expatriations - in order to maintain an inquisitive spirit and always walk one step beyond my comfort zone - I have taken an active decision to remain an Expat for life even if it looks as though we are settling down in Paris.

After all an Expat is "a person who lives outside their native country" and although this might be the official definition, for me it's the philosophy that I am hooked on, mustering up the courage and determination to plunge into the unknown, knowing that sometimes it may be a bumpy ride but that the rewards will outweigh the hardship!

I have never been known to be able to resist a positive challenge!

I miss my neighbours!

We have moved over the summer and now live down the road, however, I do dearly miss my neighbours, especially during the month of October!

Here is a post from two years ago which I 'd like to share with you:

Rarely have I been more excited about something happening in my neighbourhood than yesterday!

Before we first moved to Paris, I was desperately flat hunting and scouting to find something decent within three days. As it often happens, it was to be my very last flat viewing before I rushed to the airport and back to Lugano which at the time was home. I had, however, found my perfect flat. A classic Hausmanian building from the 19th century with a view onto the Arc de Triomphe and a tiny tip of Eiffel Tower if you stretch. It could not get any better.

The only hitch was the restauration of the building in front of us, which was not only noisy but also very dirty. During the extensive refurbishment our flat was filled with dust during the dry days and the windows were a sad sight during the rainy ones.

After three years of enduring the racket across the street even on Saturdays, but steadily watching the building's development with a certain curiosity, it has finally open up it's doors in all its glamorous splendour.

Turns out, it is one of Paris' most prestigious hotels. It is now a treat to look out of our window to enjoy the glorious facade promising prince-like treatment to well-heeled visitors to the French capital.

In 1922, Marcel Proust and James Joyce, the two greatest novelists of the 20th century, met here for the first and only time. In 1928 the American composer George Gershwin wrote the “blues” section of his orchestral poem An American in Paris while staying at the hotel. The building, which dates to 1908, is steeped with history, having housed the Nazi military command when Paris was occupied in World War Two. After the war, the building was briefly the headquarters of Unesco before sinking into anonymity as a French government conference centre and then as offices.

For decades, tourists and Parisians walked past this spot without knowing its extraordinary story. This was a place where the history of the French capital in the 20th century was made, both the light shades and the dark.

Well, last night for the first time ever, the entire outer facade went PiNk transformed with eye-catching pink lighting and decorations much to my delight! It went PiNk for a purpose with the initiative to support Breast Cancer Awareness. Staff are looking extremely smart in black uniforms with their elegant pink ties and specially designed pink pins. Guests and city residents are invited to enjoy a host of enticing pink-themed rooms, dining and spa promotions. I am just enraptured that the usually grey Parisian backdrop finally matches my PiNk dining room.

I have no idea what Mr Joice or Mr Proust would have made of this but I am absolutely tickled PiNk!!!

October 2014

October 2013

Winter 2012

Hit by a wave...

We are Expats, we have moved many a times, we have left homes and started anew with much enthusiasm and motivation in new locations again and again. However, there is a limbo in between these two stages that makes my heart sink every time I think about it. Once the movers arrive to pack my life up into boxes I know the moment is near when I'll need to step out of my front door never to return again.

It is like watching a huge wave heading your way. You can see it coming and you know once it reaches you it will hit you hard - really hard - but you also know you cannot avoid it, you NEED to get through it. The wave is a whirlwind of emotions all happening at the same time: vulnerability, happiness, sadness, relief, anxiety, enthusiasm, weariness, curiosity and eventually exhaustion. When you emerge the other side of this wave you are not the same person, something has shifted. You have closed a chapter of your life to start a new one. Your attitude with which you begin writing this pristine page will often set the tone of a more or less smooth settling down for you and your family.

Moving within the same city has been a new experience for me. Usually I get to close the door behind me one last time, rush to the airport and am in floods of tears before the plane even takes off! It is part of the mourning process, a way to bid farewell to a place my family calls home.

This time I climbed into an Uber taxi carrying a hoover and two pairs of curtains to ride 1 km down the road and walk into our new home, only problem is: it isn't home... not just YET!

Leaving our imprint on the flat through these markings of Expat kids' growth over the years!

Many, many emotions...

So many emotions... sadness about leaving a home of five years, excitement about moving into our own place down the road, thankful for not having to leave friends and Paris behind, grateful for the EuroCup and the fans' palpabale euphoria, comfort in the Swiss German dialect picked up here and there thanks to the Swiss football supporters in town, surprised and appreciative of all the messages received from friends wishing me luck with the move, tired of standing on my feet all day, emotional about closing the door on yet another chapter of our lives...

It will be alright... or how to move a pink flamingo

After five years sitting tight enjoying a splendid view onto the Arc de Triomphe we are moving ... again! It is a weird move, at least for our family! We are used to crossing borders even continents, this time instead of travelling thousands of km we are moving 1000 meters down the road.

This still implies packing up the entire house and fitting your life into x amount of boxes. (I don't dare mention the number of boxes.) What I will say, however, is that it is scary to see your home - yes, that would be the one you spent days, months even years building and improving - being dismantled within hours ... by total strangers!

I usually avoid this part of the move. I will plan all the logistics, including insurance, parking spaces, freight elevator, labelling, wrapping personal items but just before the movers arrive I leave with tears streaming down my face. It is my hubby who takes over for a day in order for me to avoid seeing our home empty and desolate. I then pick up the other end rebuilding our family home for the umpteenth time!

This time around it is me instructing the movers to be careful, label correctly and answering their questions. I must admit it is easier knowing we won't be leaving our friends behind, we can still enjoy a scrumptious fois gras on a swanky Parisian terrace and stroll through Paris' lovely parks and museums knowing we are on home turf. We are NOT tourists! This is our home!

There I've said it out loud and written it down: Paris is our home. We have been living here for the past five years and will most probably remain for at least as many. That is VERY good going for perpetual expats such as ourselves.

But for now, I am listened to my kids playing hide-and-seek in between the many, many, many boxes and making make-shift goals to play soccer in a corridor stripped of family photos and emotional keepsakes.

Last week, a little token caught my fancy and on a whim I bought the transparent snow globe enclosing a miniaturized Tour Eiffel and a Pink Flamingo! I just could not resist and told myself it would help me to keep smiling should things get rough during the coming week.

I have looked at my little snow globe a few times this weekend while preparing our household for the movers to take over and my smile returned. An army of movers turned up at 8am this morning with their moving boxes and you'll never guess what was pictured on their cartons? A PINK FLAMINGO!

At that very moment I knew it would all be just fine!!!

SaveSave

Even the "stayers" must leave one day...

Another farewell party, more goodbyes, some tears, and a feeling of being abandoned with my emotions as I leave the event and walk through the deserted alleys on an unusually cold May evening. On my way home walking through the streets of Paris, every corner holds a memory, every avenue makes me smile in reminiscence. A café that reminds me of a glass of hot water ordered, a bistrot where I used to hang out with friends for a habitual café au lait, a boulangerie where we asked for free sandwiches to feed the homeless on a freezing Friday night. I spot a hotel that brings back souvenirs of a luxurious happy hour, and walk past restaurants that are loaded with nostalgia of good times with people long gone.

It seems everybody is moving on and I am left to myself to start all over again. Every year I become more local, nevertheless every September - at the beginning of the school year - I make an effort to welcome the newcomers, spotting a character or two with whom I think I might hit it off and maybe make a new friend. 

I do not want to replace the friends that have left, every single one has a special place in my heart, some take up more space than others but each and every one has left an imprint in my life, even the lady that used to take the bus with my daughter and I after school every day and I haven't heard from in the last 4 years. Little does she know I still think of her and her daughter every time I take that bus route!

Tonight was another farewell party for a friend who has made history at my kids' school for organising the most epic Parisian tours over the last eight years. She managed to remain calm and composed during her farewell address as opposed to me who once again could not contain my tears. She was one of the "stayers" ... until today! 

Five other ladies announced their family's departure in June and I am wondering how many times will I go through this. However, I am convinced that the benefits of meeting new people and making a new friend or two even for a limited time is so enriching that it is worth the effort. I can't imagine how many experiences I would have missed out on and how little I would know about the world's cultures and customs, had it not been for the wonderful personalities I have met over the past five years.

My heart is always filled with sadness this time of year but I force myself to see the blessing each encounter has brought. So, yes I am a stayer and I will probably be the one turning off the light after I leave because everyone else will have already moved on, but I am convinced it is worth every single tear I have shed.

And after all, it is Paris I am lucky enough to call my home! 

Hello and Au Revoir my friend

It is yet another farewell that hurts, even though I knew it was coming. Only... I expected to spend a little more time together before she left.

She is the last one of the gang - apart from myself - arriving at the kids' school back in 2011. We were all new to the city but for most it was not the first expatriation. We formed an eclectic group based on the sole common factor that our kids were in the same grade and we were therefore thrown into contact with each other.

She was the friend you don't expect. The person you get to know better because destiny has decided to make your paths cross rather than leading you along parallel roads.

Instead of gradually evolving, our friendship just clicked one day and we both knew intuitively that we had made a friend for life. It was after having realised this not too long ago, that we made the effort to meet up more often.

She is an international business woman and a super mum juggling travel with school plays and junior football matches. She is the power house always full of energy. Everytime we manage to meet - which unfortunately is less than we'd liked to due to her travelschedule - her smile greets me long before she's close enough to hug me.

We have managed to extract moments of our busy family schedules over these past months, to celebrate our independency and value our friendship as we have gotten to know each other better over an Aperò or a Japanese meal.

I don't think she knows how much I will miss her when she leaves after Christmas.

There will be no more Swedish meatballs served at Internatioanl Day and someone else will be leading the Santa Lucia festival next December and there'll be no one to secretly share an entire bottle of Prosecco with during the End-of School-Year picnic!

I guess I will just have to travel to Frankfurt for Happy Hour!!!

Falling in love all over again...

So, I spoke too early. It just took me a while to get into the groove.

After walking around the capital under the pouring rain for two days, I started recognizing the city I had left 15 years ago thanks to the melancholic Argentine touch - so well conveyed through their music - that covered the city along with the grey skies.

Familiar smells started emerging such as charcoal grilled meat on the parilla, whiffs of empanadas freshly baked, the tang of floors cleaned with bleach, sprinkles of perfume emerging from the beauty stores, the typical bouquet of real leather, the distinct stinging odor of mothball with which coats had been stored for too long a time, the smell of incense sticks along the hippie-style open air markets, and scent of wet foliage and humid grass.

The Argentinean accent so soft and melodious rocked my mind into places and scenes I had forgotten and enticed me to listen to the people's everyday conversations.

The familiar sing song of a bird that searches for his mate during this time of the year made me smile and my heart soared when the Jacarada trees started blooming by the end of the week. To me these trees symbolize the good times we had in Argentina as they announced the beginning of spring. Personally the purple coloured flowers will forever be linked with the birth of my son who was born in Buenos Aires on a rainy full-moon October night sixteen years ago.

We met with family and friends and discussed politics and football. We witnessed the Presidential elections where no president was chosen and watched the Rugby World Cup where the Puma's lost against the Aussies. Had we just stayed two days longer we could have spent the day with our loved ones enjoying a typical Sunday asado and witnessed Expat boy's favourite football team Boca Juniors win the National football championship.

It has been a magnificent week. So many memories have surfaced over these past days, so many stories to tell my boy which I had forgotten about, so many places we used to visit that we have rediscovered.

Many things have changed in this nation since we left. Many have stayed the same, many for which I fell in love with this country the first time around and if I stay a little longer I am in danger of falling in love all over again!

Hasta luego Buenos Aires. We will be back!!!

Just landed and touring the city already...

Recoleta cemetery with the first jacaranda tree spotted so far

Monuments to honour the dead

The most famous Argentinean: Eva Peron, first Lady of Argentina from 1946 until her death in 1952... not loved by all!

 A typical mercadillo selling local goods

Alcohol is forbidden on Election Sunday

San Telmo,  the oldest barrio (neighborhood) of Buenos Aires characterized by its colonial buildings.

Mate is a traditional Argentinean caffeine-rich infused drink. It is prepared by steeping dried leaves of yerba mate in hot water and is served with a metal straw from a shared hollow calabash gourd.

Colourful Buenos Aires

If football is a religion, La Bombonera is its shrine!

No rush in this part of the world!

The 29th of every month is Gnocchi day in Argentina! This tradition was brought over by the Italian immigrants who were on a meager salary. The day before pay day, ñoquis became the best option because not only they can be made cheaply, but also they are nutritional and very belly-filling.

Plaza San Martin

The most spectacular centenary trees...

... as well as National flags are to be spotted thoughout the city.

This is what the English left behind: Lemon Meringue Pie

What intriguing history is hidden behind these gates?

Some fascist architecture knitted into everyday life

The new kid on the block: Palermo Soho...

... posh around the outside but still Buenos Aires on the inside. ;)

A very typical sight.. the dog walkers!

Tempting and colourful

La Boca, neighborhood famed for its colorful houses, its tango and its soccer team where new immigrants first established themselves when they arrived in Buenos Aires in the 1830s.

Has it been too long ago?

It has been a long, long time, maybe too long to feel familiar with a place I used to call home.

Returning to Buenos Aires after 15 years has left me slightly perplexed: it somehow still looks the same but it does not feel the same anymore. Despite its economic and political difficulties, it has most definately leapt into the 21st century. WIFI is available everywhere and the romantic 1950 post war Southern European vibe that reigned (the Expat) world of the Menem area has turned distinctly international. MacDonalds and Starbucks are overpowering local cafe houses, the best fish in town is now available in Chinatown and the market of San Telmo looks and feels like the one of Montmartre in Paris. Tourists are taken advantage of just like every else in the world.

Don't get me wrong, the Argentineans are still as charming as ever but survival mode has kicked in and though they have not lost their love to communicate with foreigners as their curiosity and forthcomingness remains unique, there is a distinct shift in interests.

I expected to feel more emotional, I was sure I would shed a few tears - and to be honest I did upon my arrival while waiting for my luggage - but other than that it seems our two years we called Buenos Aires home is too far removed to reach.

I have giant flashbacks as I drive or walk past places I forgot existed; how could I not remember the Carrefour I used to shop in every week?!? Obviously was not a priority even back in those days. Buenos Aires Design which used to be the hippest corner of town in our time had completely slipped my mind until I walked passed it sheltering from the pouring rain. I am surprised how little actually has changed in terms of urban construction in the city center as I recognize all our old haunts and familiar commutes. 

However, the old beaten up taxis and microbuses have disappeared to be replaced with more modern versions and there parts of town now called Palermo Soho and Palermo Hollywood which I still need to explore.

I am happy to see that over a decade and a half later the locals still hang out in the parks sharing their Maté tea on a lovely Sunday spring afternoon but I am missing the city's flavour as I realize I cannot link it to the so familiar smell of the city I used to know.

On our way

We are off... I m taking my boy to where he was born 16 years ago to celebrate his birthday.

There are so many memories flowing back I don't know where to start.

In 1998 only three days after we tied the knot my hubby whizzed me off on our first expatriation together, my dream port of Buenos Aires.

Argentina was still flourishing in those days and I like to refer to our time in this lovely part of the world as our two year honeymoon.

Our son was born there and many emotions are tied to this place. So many of them are flooding back now as I sit in the departure lounge telling my son the stories about his time in Argentina which he was too young to remember.

I do not quite know what to expect since the economic situation has changed considerably since we left but one thing I am sure of; the Argentineans will have remained the same. Welcoming, friendly, chatty and above all curious. Curious about your story, curious about your heritage, curious about what the world thinks of Argentina.

Expat boy is keeping his emotions to himself for the time being but I am waiting for the moment we arrive and am wondering when it will hit him because it will hit him. 

He is after all a Porteno at heart...

C'est la rentrée

We have arrived back in Paris and the landing has been hard. Two months in Spain has softened our hearts and souls.

I hardly got across the border and a French van driver was honking and blinking at me to get out of his way on the highway. Man, move over to the left and overtake me ... I AM going at top speed limit in the middle lane, after all!

We arrive in Paris and the fruit vendor sneers at me for pulling out my credit card rather than paying cash because now he needs to activate the card machine.

We get up early the first day of school to arrive well before the bell rings so Expat daughter can greet all her friends and the metro stops in its tracks due to a bomb scare further down the line.

There is constant traffic noise and the trees are already changing into their fall colours. The thermometer marked 10ºC yesterday morning!

BUT... I am in Paris, as some of my friends have already reminded me.

On the other hand, I wouldn't fit in, if I didn't start complaining immediately upon my return?!?

Ah, Paris c'est toujours Paris. Welcome back!

It hit me today!

Just yesterday I was eluding myself into thinking that we might get away without difficult goodbye scenes or teary faces. This end-of-school-year, it seems none of the kids' best friends are leaving. Not that some of them have ALREADY left, but this June we might just hang on to those whom will stay in Paris... at least until next year.

Then, today I joined the last tour organised for the schools' parents by lovely Mona and it hit me. This year it was me standing to lose her safety net. It is not one special friend in particular, it is the community of mums that arrived the same year I did. We mixed and mingled over the years, in the beginning mainly because we needed to accompany our kids to their playdates. A quick chat in the school courtyard, a coffee on the go or a little phone call to double-check our child was being picked up. The conversations began to get longer, become more personal and once in a while we'd rant and let our frustration be heard knowing we were understood.

Coffees became lunches, lunches became dinners. We were 18 very loud ladies at our last dinner in a trendy restaurant on the Seine river enjoying each others company and just being ourselves!

When did we all start feeling so comfortable in each others presence? When did we stop noticing the language barrier, the culture gap or religious diversity? When did we start becoming friends? It happened without us noticing... until the time came to say good-bye.

So here I am silently shedding tears over a group of fantastic ladies (they know who they are) that will be leaving me behind.

As one of my friends so nicely said today: "These past four years have been a gift!" Merci to each and every one of you!

Seven Ages of Friendship

Having been thrown into Expat lifestyle at a very young age, my daughter is learning fast how to cope with the strange balance of friendships that develop. Every year one best buddy leaves, every year there are new bonds being forged, not to replace the old ones but to maintain a complicity and intimacy that gives her the emotional stability that lacks in our geographical solidity.

When asked by her English teacher to adapt "The Seven Ages of Man" by William Shakespeare into a different category of her choice, this is what she wrote:

Seven Ages of Friendship

All the world’s thine companion,
And all the friends and enemies are mere relationships.
They have their positives and their negatives.
And one friend in their life, plays many parts.
Their acts being of seven ages, at first a distant pupil.
Few words exchanged in the past.
Then the aquainstance,
Working together at school, like two swans.
And then the young friendship, blossoming into something new,
Acting like best friends. Then, the close company,
Whispered secrets in the hallways,
Never lonely at lunch or break.
And then the gatherings at each others houses,
The boys always pretending to be knights,
With their swords and shields, fighting away.
The sixth stage follows
Into a promise that would always be kept.
Everlasting friendship would always be remembered.
That ends this strange eventful history,
Upon the two they will always be remembered,
Sans lies, sans jealousy, sans insults, sans quarles.

Yet another "Au Revoir"

"It isn't fair. It just isn't fair, I know, sweetie!" I keep repeating to my daughter who is desperately clinging onto me, hugging me, her teary face buried deep into my puffy, black parker coat. She cannot see the tears streaming down my face as I hug her back trying to comfort her.

This was two months ago, when her little best friend announced he was moving back home to California. We have been in this situation so many times now, but what do you tell an eleven year old to make her feel better? It is her fourth best buddy to leave in four years. Miraculously, she finds a new soul mate every time she looses one to the other end of the world. We have been doing quite some travelling to keep up with them, if only for a few days' visit. This one will be more difficult.

"It is so far away" she sobs. She's right. A weekend visit might be challenging even for us.

Expat Girl is starting to gather experience in farewells despite her young age. Today she admitted that although she might have waved goodbye to other best friends in the past, this Californian buddy was her soul mate. He made her giggle like nobody else ever has. Nevertheless, she held it together when we saw the family off at the airport this weekend. Surprisingly so did I!

Is it possible that after years of waving your "Au Revoirs", you just get used to that gaping hole that opens in your heart? You let your brain take over before your emotions get the better of you? Because if it were up to our hearts we would still be crying. We know it is the name of the game in Expat circles and we are getting better at it, that does not mean we like it. However as Anais Nin put it so nicely: "Each friend represents a world in us, a world not born until they arrive, and it is only by this meeting that a new world is born."

Therefore, we are grateful for the close friendships we forged over the years because it is not what we have lost but what we have gained by crossing paths with the people who will forever have a special place in our hearts.