Mother’s Day Abroad

In my last post I alluded to the idea that even seasoned travelers, and people who have spent years living away from their home country, suffer longing and alienation at times. Mother’s Day certainly elicits those feelings for me. I haven’t sat with coffee at a breakfast table with my daughter for many many years. I would love to spend this morning commiserating with her now that her own sons no long live near her. There will be wishes, her to me, me to her, and her sons to her, certainly, but the day will be like any other; no construction paper cards, origami birds, messy breakfast in bed, or kisses on the cheek. I have no such pangs for 4th of July, Thanksgiving, or Easter-none of those mean much to me these days. But motherhood is existential.

Fortunately for the emigrant, these days we are able to communicate easily across the globe, so people don’t generally seem so far away. But I chose to live in Mexico partly because it is just next door to where my family lives. It seems so close. But it really isn’t near if you are on a budget. In 17 years of living abroad, I have managed to see my daughter every year at least once (save one year when I couldn’t travel for a bad injury). Now that my daughter and my grandsons live in wholly different parts of the country, necessitating at least 2 flights, and hotels where the boys live, it is just not possible to see them all. I dearly miss my grandsons, but haven’t the resources for a trip to the mid-west, and hotels and car rental, etc.. The retiree living on Social Security will recognize this painful reality.

I would love to have them come see me, and I make sure I always have a space for them to stay, but working people in the U.S. have little time for travel, and are actually financially as stretched as I am. My grandsons are busy, very, establishing themselves as young adults and trying to figure a way in today’s world. My daughter, too, works long hours, has myriad responsibilities and no spare cash to travel to Mexico. There is a reason people from the US travel so little. Money and time are in short supply for most everyone. I understand that they can’t come see me; that is the reality.

My Mexican friends all wished me a happy Mother’s Day on Friday (Mother’s day is always on the 10th of May here, and is a national holiday). Mexicans on average don’t have much money, but they do have plenty of holidays and fiestas. The streets were filled with men and children with armloads of flowers, going home to their houses, where their mothers and fathers and grandmothers, grandfathers, tias and tios, often live together. I’m sure everyone sang to and kissed mama. In the afternoon and evening couples danced in the town square to a live band, and children chased each other through the walkways and park. Being on a Friday this year meant that there was a 3 day holiday.

Nostalgia, and longing for a sort of family that never was, at least never was in the deep sense of family in Mexico, makes this time bittersweet. I know many Gringo migrants here who seek out each other for solidarity on days like Thanksgiving, Christmas, Easter and the 4th of July, for fun and solidarity and when simulacra will do, but we can only commiserate on Mother’s Day and Father’s Day, for we cannot be for each other what only our children, and mothers, can be. So today I sit in the warmth of Mexico, the sky filled with birdsong, and wish I were at my Daughter’s table.

Surviving the Holidays Elsewhere

"Members of the "Laughter Yoga" club participate in an event called "Christmas Smile" near the Hoan Kiem Lake in Hanoi, Vietnam, on Dec. 23, 2012. (Xinhua/Ho Nhu Y)

“Members of the “Laughter Yoga” club participate in an event called “Christmas Smile” near the Hoan Kiem Lake in Hanoi, Vietnam, on Dec. 23, 2012. (Xinhua/Ho Nhu Y)

If you’ve spent a Christmas or New Year in a different country, especially a non-European, not dominantly Christian country, you may have found it disconcerting. There may be little more deeply embedded in our psyches as traditional as “The Holidays”. That is for better or for worse. The sounds of a carol, the images of snow and Santas, the smells of pine and cranberry, all bombard us with emotions. In the 21st century, these images are almost inescapable. Experiencing these cues in a small town in Asia or Africa intensify the sense of displacement and alienation. This is a time full of emotional land mines.

I’ve spent almost all of the last 14 Christmases outside of the US, mostly in Asia or the Middle East, in Muslim and Buddhist countries. While it can feel lonesome at times – I swear there is nothing like a snow rendition of Jingle Bells to bring on waves of sad nostalgia – I’ve found the local interpretations of our most important holidays to be quite amusing.

Here is some advice for the holidays abroad:

Christmas-Symbols Adjust your expectations. It won’t be the same as at home. Let go of your attachment to the usual trappings, such as mistletoe and turkey, or ham. You won’t get a live evergreen tree. As an expat one of the best ways to settle in well is to accept that things are different, so learn to love the local. Every place I’ve been for Christmas has adapted some aspects of our holidays.

Philippino choir sings carols in a hotel in Bahrain Video Joanne Bretzer

Christmas-Symbols Improvise. Decorate that palm tree! Light up the cactus! Convert some of your recipes. Sage dressing in a stuffed lamb roast? Excellent! Pomegranate seeds sprinkled on a mango or orange salad? Great! With imagination and squinced eyes, your table may actually look downright Norman Rockwell perfect. Honestly, the food will probably taste better.

Christmas-Symbols Go against the grain, or even the law. If Christmas for you must include some of the “sacred” elements, then bring your own, or be vigilant in search of the real stuff, which may be quite well hidden.

I spent a couple of Christmases in Saudi Arabia. My neighbor was insistent on a tree. Imagine her thrill when we were in a mall, in a small store on the top floor, and a seller loudly whispered to her, “over here,” and he pointed to under the counter where he had contraband plastic trees, and cards! and decorations! The excitement of the holidays that year was the frisson of trangressiveness involved in lighting the tree. Our other neighbor was forced to take her front window tree down. We lived on an expat compound. Don’t try this in a mixed local neighborhood. The religious police take a dim view of Christmas lights.

Christmas-Symbols Accept that this may be a sensitive time, and see where your emotions take you. Yes, be aware and tune into that sadness and nostalgia. Spend a few tears and bid your old life adieu. You may find that this frees you to embrace the joys of your new country. The celebration of Tet, lunar new year, in Vietnam brings families all over the country back together for a week of feasting and spiritual celebration. Eids, the tradition celebrations of Muslim countries do likewise. Tuning into these celebrations will bring you closer to the local culture.

Holidays away from home remind us of those dear to us, and that can be celebrated anywhere in the 21st century, with social media, Skype and the telephone. If all else fails, throw yourself into that other Christmas classic – holiday travel; crammed airports, storm-delayed flights, busses and traffic.

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Storm: Traffic edges its way through York in a pre-Christmas snowstorm as Britain suffered the coldest December since records began.

Christmas at O'Hare Photo Joanne Bretzer

Christmas at O’Hare Photo Joanne Bretzer

 

 

Love

The romance of travel can be highly over-rated. Having been traveling for years, it is not uncommon to find that you have left everyone behind, in the dust, as it were. When you visit home, you learn that the life you once knew has morphed, for you this happened seemingly overnight, for people there, over the years, into a place place unknown, and, worse, unfelt. Sure, you can find threads of yourself here and there in the warp and weave of the old streets and cafes, but your ghost has mostly been replaced by newer, more vibrant ones. For you, “there is no there there”, to quote Gertrude Stein.

I felt this when I went to Seattle this year. I knew after 20 plus years and the high tech boom that it would have changed. But I really was apprehensive about encountering my own ghostly past and getting overwhelmed and disoriented with nostalgia. I almost changed my plans to go. I have felt lonely in a lot of strange places, but I didn’t look forward to feeling loneliness and longing in this city of my past, my family life, my children and my education. It is place where I lived the longest in one house, cooking and gardening, knowing the neighbors and the easiest routes to the parks and the uni. This was intimidating, going to the farthest north reaches of Burma into contested Shan territory was not.

What I encountered was almost entirely different than what I expected. There were so few traces of my life left there that I was more likely to find “myself” in the alleys of Bangkok than in Seattle. I would have felt less of an alien in Chittagong. I had spent those 2 decades working myself into the texture of other places.

Where I found my anchor, my Southern Star, was with my closest friends there, Julie and Christine, who welcomed me as the prodigal daughter. Sure they had changed, and had built lives that were unknown to me, but they were the loving connections to my past. Julie took me shopping for new glasses, as she had done many years before, because she was the one person I trusted most at that task.  We drank wine, ate great food, and shared old love, with the dogs in our laps.

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I had made up my mind several years ago to construct my travel plans around spending times with old friends. The last two Christmases were spent with John, traveling in Myanmar, Thailand and Cambodia – last year included his partner, Parvis. This year I will spend it with Martin’s family in Melbourne. I’ll hopefully be doing some traveling this year with Sergio.

This is that romantic time of the year, when certain songs bring tears and longing, and thoughts of home weigh heavy. If there is no longer a “home” to long for, a snowy Christmas special on television becomes the object of desire. Home for me now is the friends I love. Attachment to place feels like an obliterated abstraction, but in the end, the “place” in my heart is the love of friends. They are the real and the tangible, even if they are thousands of miles away.

 

 

The (White) Elephant in the Room

I’ve spent the last couple of years researching retiring abroad. There are lots of websites and blogs devoted to the topic, but I haven’t seen any yet (they may exist) that deal with the fact that most of us expats from the west retiring in (non-white) developing countries are white. And, obviously, of a certain age. This simple fact deserves a lot of attention and discussion, and definitely, at a minimum, awareness on the part of those of us who are migrating to these countries.

What is it like living as an ethnic minority in Asia? This is where I’ve spent most of the last 13 years. It should be humbling., after all, we stand out, get stared at, and sometimes jeered. But, in most cases, our cultural dominance precedes us via the presence of westerners, especially military, and the media. Developing countries mostly want to develop to be like the west on one hand, and resent it for lots of historically appropriate reasons. Westerners enter a complicated situation when they expatriate.

There’s nothing neutral about arriving where you are a minority. That should be the humbling part. Imagine being an immigrant or refugee arriving in Europe or America, with all of the attendant issues: language, attitudes, culture, etc.. Yet when we arrive as travelers, we’re welcomed.

For the week or two holiday, it can be fairly easy to feel that you’re entirely welcomed. After all, you’re “contributing to the economy” and “respecting the culture”. The airports, hotels, restaurants and cultural events all welcome you and your dollars/Euros. Occasionally a tourist has a bad experience, but in the main the experience is pretty much structured and guaranteed to be welcoming and positive.

When you are going to stay a while. and you pay attention, the complexities should become more apparent. It’s naive to think that everyone likes and welcomes us, and that our presence is an unmitigated positive for the locals. If you are going to live in a new community, there are huge adjustments to make. We think about this in our own country, but with moving to a new country, somehow it seems a different matter.

Historic Impact of Westerners

Westerners have been arriving in non-European countries for hundreds of years. Since the 15th century, most of this has been as colonizing empires. One of the first steps of moving to a developing country should be to gain an understanding of the history, politics, economics and culture. To move to Vietnam, for instances, without knowing your own nation’s history with Vietnam, leaves you unprepared for understanding the country.

We sometimes blithely think that the past is the past and, well, we’re good people and we should be accepted as such. A man who lost his father, his family and his village to the American War in Vietnam is still burdened with his painful past. Now he sees development that isn’t benefiting his country or his community proportionally. War has been replaced by sweatshops, traffic and McDonalds. The thread that binds these is forms of colonialism. The country of Vietnam suffers from generations of birth defects from Agent Orange. The past is not gone, it’s the lived reality.

Yet, in truth, we are mostly welcomed and treated well. That takes character and forgiveness. It also takes the perspective of thousands of years of history and overcoming adversaries and the past. In a way, we aren’t so important, the Chinese loom larger. But we can experience occasional resentments and slights.

It’s good to remember, or learn, that the history we have learned in our schools is partial and culturally biased. This is true everywhere. We may think we are entering places that have received “liberation” or at least the largesse of aid, from our countries. The perceived reality of the locals will be different.

Western Impacts Today

Today when we arrive en mass in a country, such as Thailand or Ecuador, we have our own negative and positive impacts. We contribute to the economy, but in uneven ways; some benefit, a lot, often most, don’t.

Western intervention in economies and governments is ongoing. Whether it is positive or not is up for debate, that the neoliberal global economy has entered the smallest villages and enclaves of the world is not. When we arrive as expats or retirees these days, we are part of a global flux of peoples, no different in some ways than the Latin Americans entering the US, or the Syrians entering Europe. We are leaving a place that doesn’t meet our needs for a place that we believe does.

When we arrive, we cause inflation and housing shortages. When foreign enclaves form in developing countries we create rich ghettos that distort prices and cultures. Locals who live in these areas are soon displaced as McDonalds and Starbucks replace local family restaurants, and supermarkets aimed at western tastes displace small tiendas and markets. Tastes themselves are changed as westernization is to a lot of people considered a good thing, and McDonalds represents that.

Some of this is caused by what we consider largesse.  A good example is local transportation. The cost of a rickshaw in Chittagong around a foreign university is much higher than in more traditional neighborhoods. I couldn’t in good conscience pay the tiny amount a Bangladeshi pays. My rationalization is that if I am making so much more than the locals, I should try to spend it locally. Knowing that I was contributing to a problem, I was also trying to solve a problem. My high wages I paid to my rickshaw driver allowed him to move himself and his family back to the countryside, which is a big improvement for them. But this has unintended consequences that I recognize.

Western culture and values are easily acquired, especially among the young who have been so influenced by the media. In traditional societies this means changes that aren’t always welcome.

Conclusion

This is a dense and contested issue. I look forward to the thoughts of others on it. My conclusion is that we as expats need to be humble, respectful and aware when we move abroad. Often I read people maligning the locals, or condescending to them. Almost all cultures outside of the west are more ancient and developed than our own. They have their own dignity and collective meaning. There is a lot which can be learned by us.

When we do arrive eager to learn the language and local ways and sometimes feel rebuffed, try to remember that we are not just well-intentioned individuals, we are part of a historic movement of peoples that has not always been good for these countries.

We are the elephants in the room, and it is time we talked about it.

 

 

 

Mexico – Right Across the Border

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Day two in Mazatlan view from my room.

Mazatlan is a means to an end: that end being, a trip with a friend to Copper Canyon, and reacquainting myself with Mexico. I haven’t been to Mexico for a few years, and never to Mazatlan.

Impressions:

Poverty: It seems that it would be a good idea to teleport tourists from the airport to the Centro Historico in Mazatlan. Nothing between arrival at the airport and arrival at the tourist district would recommend staying here. The intervening reality is poor, dirty and disheveled, and disheartening. It is a testament to the Disney-fication of city centers that tourists are able to suspend the reality of what they see upon arrival and luxuriate in the artificial cultural authenticity of the centros historicos.

Noise: The noise level is challenging. People say Asians are loud, and some can be, but Mexico has the volume at 10 most of the time. Music, laughs, talking  — all great in their own right, but exhausting when constant. But, I’m in a city, so no rush to judgement.

Judgement: That is actually what I am here for, I realized. I am here to judge whether I can, or want to, live here. This task makes just enjoying the place a bit complicated.

Complications: Where to stay? Where to go? When? Why?

People: It is Mexico, after all. People are genuinely friendly, and some are equally genuinely interested in your money. Of course.

Safety: I haven’t seen anything yet to make me feel unsafe. The unsafe feeling comes from media images over time impressing on my mind the idea of the dangerous Mexican male of a certain age and deportment. This is called prejudice, but it gets ingrained and second nature. It’s hard to turn on American television without seeing Latino males causing havoc. It sells well to pander to existing prejudices with evidence to reinforce, and create more, prejudices. I feel safe and the Mexican men I have encountered have been kind and respectful. Now, of course, I haven’t been trying to buy drugs or frequenting the places where people do, and that is probably a very wise thing.

Heat: Yes, well the heat and humidity are here in Mazatlan. I’ll be going down for a long siesta today. The AC in my room is no match for the afternoon heat. I’ll try to score a fan from the hotel. Tomorrow I’ll catch a bus for Durango, 6000 ft up in the mountains in the east. I’ll be back here for a few days next week before heading north to the Copper Canyon.

Language: I’m sort of holding my own with Spanish. Mexicans tend to speak it blessedly slowly. I learn some every day, and have no fear of being able to have a modest mastery of what I need if I decide on Latin America. This hemisphere has that going for it over Asia — I can speak the languages, more or less.

So, my first days have been a bit disorienting and disconcerting, as I now have an agenda which makes me view things with a much more critical eye than in the past.

Travel and Perspective

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Though the number of Americans holding passports has increased, we still don’t travel in the numbers that people from other wealthy nations do. There are a variety of reasons for this and we have heard most of them. Americans have precious little vacation time. We live a good distance from most other countries, save Mexico and Canada, which are by far the most visited countries by Americans, followed by Great Britain. According to a January article in the New York Times: “Americans today are taking less vacation time than at any point in nearly 40 years, according to an October report for the U.S. Travel Association by Oxford Economics.”

When I ask people about why they don’t travel abroad, some will ask me why they should- they have everything they need in the United States. This is an extraordinarily ethnocentric and myopic view of the world. Here is how it was mapped in Buzzfeed:

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My fellow Americans! Please! Go travel. See poverty. See the grace with which people deal with tragedy and want. Witness how medical care works in countries where it works! Be humbled. Most importantly, dispel your myths about others by learning about our common humanity.

Anyway, that is what I would love to scream in the proverbial town square. For the last two years I have worked with students from all over Asia, brought together in one school in one dormitory in Bangladesh. Buddhists, Hindus, Muslims, atheists, over a dozen different cultures and languages. These young women, with grace and some discomfort, formed a student body. This is what travel can do for people.

Maybe it is just wishful thinking, but it is nice to believe that American can become more modest if they travel.

http://www.buzzfeed.com/chelseamarshall/what-americans-really-think-about-the-rest-of-the-world#.oad43VLyA