Comings and Goings

The conversation always begins with:

"How long have you been here?"

“Four months, What about you? How long are you here for?"

"Our contract's up in December, but we're hoping to renew."

There’s a hesitation. What does that mean? Am I going to learn all about her, like her, laugh with her, adore her children, and then have to wave her goodbye in few months?

"We're pretty sure it will be renewed "

They both nervously smile.

And then the conversation moves to a comfortable place. They talk about the house, the kids, the adjustment. They are both in the same position, far from home and making their way through each day trying to work out what the new rules are.

They both laugh about the near death experience crossing the road that morning, or fume over the deep injustice when some stranger stops them dead in their track to remind them that they're a bad mother:

“Are YOU going to put a hat on THAT child? Haram!” arms flailing.
What they don’t know is the tug-of-war that goes on with that child to keep their hat on before leaving the house. Every. Single. Day!

They laugh and then they exchange numbers.

They both left the table realising that she laughed for the first time in a week. And often what was making her laugh were the same things that had made her cry earlier that day when she'd thought of going straight to the airport to head home.

She is going to be okay. She has a friend.

Making new friends is an essential part to expat survival. When you're new, your criteria of making new friends cannot be named, it comes in the form of a sign, a similarity, a possible connection. Eye contact and a smile can provide an immediate feeling that things will be okay, that this move will be fine. People are friendly here.

I'm now in that happy place that comes at the four-month mark. The apartment is becoming to feel more like our home, I have a few favourite haunts, and few friends to text when I need to escape with for a coffee or a weekend getaway.

But since last Friday, I am now also acutely aware of the sadness that arrives with news that a friend is moving on. Goodbye is hard and the idea of saying goodbye to new acquaintances here fills me with dread.

Being ‘the leaver’ is a lot easier than being the person left behind. When you're left behind you will find yourself constantly reminded of things you did with a friend, reminders that they are no longer here anymore. That brief flash of excitement when you think of that restaurant, that concert, that dinner party.

Losing a friend to another country means you are left with the option of going it alone, or putting yourself back out there in the world of introductions.

So, if you're new in town, I'm looking for you! And if you're not new here, but you're new somewhere else, don't worry, it'll get better, it will become easier. I promise.