An American in England: Goodbye 2015!

Once again time has passed me by and I can't believe the year is coming to a close. This year has been one of stability, but incredible change. A week from now, Alexander and I will be celebrating one year in England, and the longest we've gone without changing address since we've been together. Two weeks from now we'll be marking the ninth month of our son's life, and reflect on how much he's grown and changed. Our days of quick weekend getaways are behind us, substituted by family outings. This New Year's Eve will not be spent in a foreign land as our previous ones, but instead at home...in pajamas.

People always say that parenthood is life-changing. I guess I used to think of it as a bit of cliché. I honestly never thought anything would come between me and my passion for travel.

I was wrong.

Of course I still dream of exotic lands and romantic escapes, but the one thing that brings me pure joy is watching my baby boy grow up and learn new things and discover the world around him. I do miss my days of travel, but not more than I adore my days spent with my little one. Now my dreams are not for myself but for my son. I want him to see the world. I want him to explore, to learn, to travel, to fall in love with adventure. I want to hold his hand as he experiences new aspects of life and I want to let go when it's time for him to have those experiences on his own.

This time of year is always filled with reflection. Looking back on 2015, the most amazing experience I had was the realization that I helped to create a tiny human. What's more amazing is that I will be responsible for shaping that tiny human into a unique, beautiful, curious young person, who will then hopefully become an interesting, kind-hearted, adventurous adult.

With the blessings of this year, I can hardly wait to see what next year has in store. For now, I'm just content holding my boys in my arms and soaking up the love from this family of three.

Happy New Year!  

An American in England: Time to settle down

It's crazy to think the last time I posted I was still living in Poland. The weather was cold, the days were short, and I was very pregnant. It's now six months since my last last post, this week is going to see a heat wave, it's still light at 9 o'clock in the evening, my beautiful baby is over six weeks old...and I'm living in England.

Tea time!

It's a lot different from the first time I moved to England. Back then, I didn't intend to stay. Alexander and I wanted to get married and then travel the world. Well, the original intention was living in Germany. Of course, that didn't quite go as planned, but we definitely traveled the world. This move to England though, the intention is to stay...permanently.

The problem is it's really not as easy as one would think. One of the reasons we didn't settle in the UK to start with was the massive visa fees and the fact that Alexander wasn't in a job since he was finishing University. There are many hurdles you have to leap as a British citizen to get your spouse into the UK, and one of them is an income threshold. Since Alexander wasn't working, he didn't meet that income threshold, and I could only come on a fiancee visa to get married. We just assumed we wouldn't be able to settle in the UK because of the strict immigration requirements. So we took a job in Indonesia, and then a job in Poland. Then one day we heard about the Surender Singh route.

Since Poland is part of the EU and we had established our life there, the Surender Singh route allowed for us to return to live in the UK due to the EU's free movement laws. So I was able to apply for an EEA family permit in order to move to the UK. This is only valid for six months, and even though I wouldn't legally need anything else to stay in the UK, it's much easier to travel in and out of the country if you have a Residence Card. So, when we arrived in January, I immediately applied for my residence card. I received my certificate of application within a few weeks, so I assumed it would be no time before I got the residence card. But February ended, then March passed, and by the time we got through April I started to get worried. Of course, there was no need to worry, and I finally got my Residence documentation this past week.

After four months of living in the UK, I finally feel like I am really living here. I went to get my library card and picked up an application to transfer my driving license. After the heartache I went through getting my Polish license, I am quite relieved it is a simple matter of switching it over. Now that our little one has arrived, we're happy to establish ourselves as a family of three and put down some roots. Of course, that doesn't mean our days of traveling are completely over... I just sent off for our baby's passport today :)

Team Ayton, ready to take on the world!

Willkommen in Polska: Personal Space and Lines

In 5 days, we'll be celebrating our 6-monthiversary here in Poland. There aren't nearly as many culture shocks as we had in Jakarta, but there are still a few things that take some getting used to. One of these things is personal space.

As an American, personal space is VERY important to me. I have strict cultural rules concerning personal space. This cultural programming is especially acute when in certain situations, such as at a doctor's office or the check-out line at a grocery store.

Here in Poland, there seems to be a different expectation when it comes to personal space in lines. A few weeks back, I went to the doctor's office to renew a prescription. I was standing at the reception counter talking to the receptionist, when someone else came into the office. While I was still talking, the person came up and stood next to me. I still don't know enough Polish to speak my mind, but I was incredibly flustered at the situation. I didn't feel it was the business of a complete stranger to know what I was doing at the doctor's office.

This could have been written off as a one-time experience, but I've also had issues at the grocery store. I'll admit, there isn't a large amount of space between the aisles and the check-out, but when a complete stranger bumps me in my rear end not once, not twice, but three times, I get kind of frustrated. Actually, very frustrated. After the third time, I didn't care about speaking Polish, I just turned and exclaimed, "Stop touching me!" (I may have included an expletive as well).

Even today at the post office I had an issue. When I entered, the two open windows were already occupied, so I stood several feet away in the middle of the two windows. When one window became free, I approached the counter. During my time at the counter, a line formed behind me. Well, not behind me so much as next to me. Right at my shoulder and old lady was inching closer and closer to make sure she was served next.

I honestly have no idea why Poles are generally more comfortable with less personal space, but I'm not the only one to notice it. And although there are things I can easily get used to, such as shaking hands every time I come across someone I know, personal space is something I value dearly. So, please, if you're a stranger, just don't touch me.

Home

Alexander and I recently spoke with an immigration attorney in the U.K. and discovered that in order for us to live there, we would have to be separated for a time. The attorney said Alex would have to get a job in the U.K. and work for at least a month before I could file my documents to process a visa which would take a few more weeks. During that time, I would have to be in the U.S. and so I would be separated from my husband for a few months, or even longer if my visa were denied. We couldn't go through all that. Not again.

After this news, I talked to my grandma about our current plan, which is to stay in Poland indefinitely. My grandma did NOT take the news lightly. She hates the thought of her grandkids being bullied, and that is effectively what is happening by the UK Border Agency. We can't live where we want to live because because my passport isn't from the "right" country, so we're being bullied into staying somewhere we never intended to live. I'm not complaining about Poland, it's a nice place, but it's not where we saw ourselves settling. So, through tears and sobs my grandma cried, "Why can't you just come home?"

Home.

Dictionary.com defines this noun as:

a house, apartment, or other shelter that is the usual residence of a person, family, or household.

By this definition, my home is Kostrzyn nad Odra, Poland, so, grandma, I am home. Of course, that's not what grandma meant. The second definition is:

the place in which one's domestic affections are centered.

By this definition, my affections (fond attachment, devotion, or love) lie with my husband, who lives in Kostrzyn nad Odra, Poland, so, once again, I am home. Yet, this was also not what grandma meant.

When my grandma made her tearful request, she meant I should just take myself and my husband and move to the U.S. The problem is, quite simply, that's not our home. My husband is British with family in the U.K., his parents live in France, our first home as a married couple was Indonesia, my family lives all over the U.S, and we now live in Poland. What is our home?

Excuse me, dictionary.com, but I have my own definition of home, which can't be summarized with a cursory handful of words. Home is waking up to my husband's kisses and a cup of coffee. Home is teasing my husband about losing his British vocabulary after time away from his native country. Home is trying new recipes and having my husband devour each one of them, even when they don't turn out quite right. Home is arguing over who should wash the dishes or take out the trash and then laughing over such silly arguments (perhaps after a few hours of moping). Home is falling asleep next to my husband and grabbing him in the night when I have a bad dream. Home is happiness, laughter, and love.

And I beg your pardon, U.K. Border Agency, but you have no right to separate a home.

Willkommen in Polska: Bureaucracy

As a non-EU citizen coming into the EU, things can be pretty tricky. Since I'm married to an EU-citizen, things are a bit easier, but, nevertheless, still incredibly complicated. This post is meant to be a bit of a warning for any other couples about to enter the process of EU bureaucracy. Keep in mind that it is different in each EU country, which is a large part of the issue.

Once Alexander was registered here in Poland, it was my turn to go through registration. We had to fill out a 4-page form in Polish (luckily with the help of our boss) which included information about my parents, my physical characteristics, my residence, my citizenship and various other tidbits. I had to take 5 passport size photos which showed my left ear and we had to turn in copies of my passport, Alexander's passport, Alexander's work contract, Alexander's registration documents and our marriage certificate. Things went smoothly with all but two things.

Firstly, the people at the regional registration office were pretty clueless about how to deal with a non-EU citizen wanting to register. It's not something that happens often in this area, and I'm guessing it would have been much smoother in Warsaw. The second issue was with our marriage certificate. According to EU law, there should be no problems if documentation is in English. Apparently, we've researched more about EU law than the people at the office have, so they wanted it in Polish. The other problem with the marriage certificate was the validity. They explained that since it was dated July 14, 2012 (the date of our marriage), there was no way to confirm we were still married. They needed confirmation that we were STILL married. Yeah...

We were able to go to the next step without proving our marriage (I was contemplating staging a make-out protest), although it took borderline hysterics on my part. We then had to register me in our local town, Kostrzyn, where we live. Once again, there was a problem with the marriage certificate. This time, they insisted we translate it to Polish. So, we went to a local translation place and went back to the office to get registered. Everything was in order, I got registered locally and received the necessary documentation to officially register with Warsaw, and before leaving the office we asked for our marriage certificate. The answer was they keep our marriage certificate. THEY keep OUR marriage certificate...

This time it was full-blown hysterics, which did nobody any good. In exchange for our British marriage certificate, we were given a Polish one. A Polish marriage certificate for two people who aren't Polish, don't speak Polish, and weren't married in Poland. My honeymoon bubble had official burst at this point. On the bright side, we were informed that if we got an official copy from the UK, then they would give us back our original copy...but I still find the whole process utterly ridiculous.

In the end, I am officially registered in Kostrzyn and awaiting my Polish residence card from Warsaw, which should be arriving in the next couple of weeks. In the meantime, I'm hoping to learn enough Polish to understand what my marriage certificate says.

Jacque in Jakarta: The Last Month

One month from today, Alexander and I will be finishing our year-long contract here in Jakarta. The original plan was to renew for another year. We planned to live in Jakarta for one more year. We planned to dodge motorbikes, breathe in pollution and circumnavigate holes in the sidewalks for one more year. We planned to spend more time with our friends, have dinner out a few times a week and get massages for under five dollars for one more year.

That was our plan. But life isn't something you can always plan.

After much thought, long talks and a lot of prayer, Alexander and I decided we need to be closer to our families. This doesn't mean we'll be living in anyone's backyard. But there's a big difference between a 9-hour flight and a 24-hour flight. There's also the complication of exit visas here in Indonesia, which don't exist in Europe.

So we've decided to return to Europe, Poland to be exact. This wasn't a decision left to chance. Over the course of a week, we sent out about thirty applications around the world. By around the world, I mean: Indonesia, China, Taiwan, Thailand, Turkey, Ukraine, Poland, Germany, France, Spain and Morocco. Out of all those positions in all those countries, there was only one school that offered an acceptable package for both of us: Poland.

It will be a bit of a culture shock for us to go from a city of over 17 million people to a town of around 10,000. We also aren't completely prepared to go from temperatures of 40°C (104°F) to 25°C (77°F). It will additionally take some getting used to going from Indonesian Rupiah to Polish Zloty. But I think we're ready for the change, and it's a decision that is best for us at this time.

In the meantime, we still have a month left in Jakarta. I don't want to get upset about leaving my friends, but instead I want to enjoy the time we have left together. It's not "goodbye", Jakarta, it's "see you later".

Jacque in Jakarta: 10 signs you're an Expat in Jakarta

After nearly a year of living in Jakarta, I've started to become acclimated with parts of the culture I originally took issue with. Here's a list of ten things that any expat in Jakarta can relate to (and may be a sign you've lived here too long). In no particular order:

1. You think outside your front door is the appropriate place to store shoes

The shoe gallery down the hall

When we first arrived to Jakarta, we were surprised to see a shoe store outside our neighbors' apartments and vowed we would never leave our shoes outside of our apartment. Fast forward ten months and you will find the bulk of our shoes outside our front door. At first we may have had a fear of theft, but then we realized that nobody is going to steal a pair of Payless shoes.

2. You have Batik for every day of the week

A glimpse of our Batik collection

Batik is the traditional clothing from Indonesia. Each region has its own distinct design of Batik. Normally on Fridays, people are allowed to wear Batik to their workplace. When we first arrived, we were entirely Batik-less, but over time we have purchased Batik and received Batik as gifts from Indonesian friends. Now, we can wear Batik just about every day of the week in order to feel like a 'local'.

3. You own a pair of knock-off Crocs

Flooding is common in Jakarta during rainy season, and even in dry season there can be monsoon storms. Therefore, Crocs are quite useful since they dry quickly and have a firm grip on wet surfaces. I held out for a long time, but finally found my pair of purple crocs for a bargain price of 50,000 IDR ($5.00).

4. 'Banjir', 'macet' and 'demo' are part of your active vocabulary

That string of lights is all cars

Free swimming pool!

Upon arrival to Jakarta, even if you don't speak a word of Indonesian, you will quickly learn that 'banjir' means flood, 'macet' means traffic jam and 'demo' means protest. When Indonesians have asked me about my experience in Jakarta, I usually respond with these three words and they laugh, knowingly.

5. When you see a white person, your first thought is, "Bule!"

The only Bules in the village

In our first week of living in Jakarta, I lost track of how many times someone shouted "Bule!" 'Bule' (Boo-lay) is a term for white Westerners. Generally, it is not meant as an insult, but it can be challenging to our Western sensibilities of racism. After so much time here, I get excited when I see other white people and inadvertently say, "Oh, look! It's a Bule!"

6. You spend at least one day a week at a mall

One of the many Jakartan shopping destinations

Something we learned quickly is the cost of land here is so exuberant that restaurants, clothing stores and most other stores have to set up shop in a mall. It is difficult to find free-standing restaurants or shops, so most weekends or free days are spent in a mall. As a friend of mine said, Jakarta is the city of a hundred malls, so you can really find anything and everything you need in a Jakarta mall.

7. You've been hit/nearly hit by a motorbike at least once

Walking to work or the store is always an adventurous experience. As I've mentioned in previous posts, the sidewalks leave much to be desired, and motorbikes don't seem to understand the concept of pedestrians on sidewalks or one-way streets being one-way. If nothing else, I have learned to ALWAYS look both ways in Jakarta, even if you THINK you're on a one-way street.

8. You have at least one epic story of a horrible taxi driver

The "reliable" taxi company

Countless times we've had taxi drivers racially profile us as being rich and so they have taken advantage of us in numerous ways. Sometimes they offer to take us on a toll road that is 30 minutes out of the way. Other times they'll take a 'short cut' that extends our ride considerably. My favorite story is when the taxi driver insisted that there would be more traffic because of the Lebaron holiday (The holiday in which Jakarta is practically empty). The best advice I could give to newbies is to have a map and insist on the route you know. After a while you can explain in Indonesian, "Saya tidak bodoh".

9. You consider four people on a motorbike to be normal

A regular family vehicle

The first time I saw five people on a motorbike, my jaw dropped. Now, I consider a motorbike to be a family vehicle, suitable for the same number of people as can fit in a sedan.

10. Your diet contains more 'nasi' than bread

I have always enjoyed eating rice, which I consider a bonus for coming to Indonesia. The first time we bought a 5kg bag of rice, I thought it would last us the rest of the year. A month later I was worried that I didn't have enough rice for dinner.

There are many other signs to be shared, but these have been my main experiences. For those of you in the same situation, I hope you've enjoyed the post. For those of you who don't get it, just come to Jakarta for a few months.

Jacque in Jakarta: Life as an Expat

The first time I traveled abroad, I was twenty years old. Five years later, I have spent more than half my time living or traveling in foreign countries. By the time I reach thirty, I will probably look back and say that I lived the majority of my twenties in a country other than my own. Through different study and work opportunities I have been able to live in Europe and Asia. I feel blessed to have had these opportunities, but my life is not what some people perceive it to be.


View from my Austrian balcony



The first time I studied abroad, I remember a family member commented that I was going on a 'vacation'. Once I arrived in the magnificiently beautiful Graz, Austria, I had twelve hours of class during the week, I had to pay rent for an apartment, I had five roommates, I went out with friends on weekends and I lived on the Austrian version of Ramen noodles, YumYum. All this is not to say that I didn't enjoy my time in Graz, nor that I didn't find it a fulfilling experience. However, it was not 'vacation'. It was study abroad. I went to another country, and I studied there. Sure, the view from my balcony was different than the view from my friends' dormrooms back home, but the point of going was to study. I also gained valuable cultural and linguistic knowledge, but that is all part of learning.

After studying in Austria, I went on to travel and study in Spain. Then, I got a

Offenburg City Hall

Fulbright scholarship so I could teach English in Germany. Once again, I remember the romanticized ideas of what I was doing in Germany. People thought I would be going to the Alps, traveling all over Europe and generally having a blast. To be honest, I absolutely loved Germany. I met my husband in Germany. I would like to eventually settle in Germany. However, my time spent there as an English Teaching Assistant was not a time filled with abundant pleasures. I was working and I had bills to pay. I did manage to travel to a few nearby cities, but any travel happened during school holidays, just as travel back home would have happend during school holidays.

Now that I'm living and working in Jakarta, I am once again experiencing the envy of people who see me as having an 'exotic' or 'exciting' lifestyle. I'm sure that there are people who would like to ask me how my 'vacation' is going. There are definitely people who wonder when I will get a 'real' job. My response to these ideas is this: I work eight hours a day Monday through Friday and I very often work Saturdays as well. I haven't had a vacation since New Year, and I won't have another one until my anniversary (1 year in July!). I eat three meals a day, sleep at night and put my shoes on one at a time. I am a 'normal' person, with a 'normal' lifestyle.

I do thoroughly enjoy living in foreign countries and experiencing different cultures, but that doesn't mean I am on a constant vacation. I am simply living one day at a time just as anyone else anywhere in the world...though every once in a while I DO have a fabulous vacation.