Neither here nor there...

Enter the in between.  The point between finding out your moving back across the world and actually being there and finding a place to call home.

It's an exciting time, but also stressful.  A constant state of flux.  The point when you have nowhere to call home, can't make any long term plans, and are just basically up in the air in so many ways.

It's a time when "oh no, we won't be here for that" and "we won't be there yet" roll off your tongue almost daily.  Some want you to stay, others want you to arrive, and you're not really sure what you want, although it doesn't really matter, because the orders are in and the tickets are booked.

It's a strange life.  I've said it before, and I realize that I should be used to it to some extent, but how do you really get used to constant change?  Isn't that the whole point... that you can't?  Some important things stay the same, surely, but anyone who tells you that your life doesn't change when you change the location has never moved further than a few hours from home.

The location, environment, weather, proximity to cities and water, they all affect the lifestyle you lead in that new place.

Our new home looks like the best of many worlds.  Closer to Canada, incredible scenery, ocean within driving distance, mountains and markets.  Cities and outdoor activities, small arts scenes and up and coming neighborhoods.

We'll 'lose' six months in this move, we do with each one.  Three months before, you are preparing and are not entirely here nor there.   Boxes, paperwork, tickets, appointments, canceling contracts, movers.  Then you're homeless and on a plane.  Then visiting family and friends, living in a hotel, being shown around by a realtor, and finally making more appointments, signing contracts, more paperwork, movers, boxes.

Once the new home is found and the boxes are unpacked, you start to 'settle' in.  Find a community, join some activities, explore the area, find a fit.

It's exciting, always.  I love it.  But that doesn't mean it isn't also tiring, and stressful, and makes me a little bit unhinged.  I find, sometimes, that being untethered means you have no real sense of direction.  It's freeing and exciting, but also means at times, you are just completely lost and unable to navigate the road ahead.

I feel drawn back to my blog by this new set of events.  It was the place I first came to to tether myself to something that would follow me, no matter where I went.  It's just a tiny little piece of the world, but the one constant in my life over the past seven.

I'm excited for us to start this next leg of the journey, but also nervous.  Who will we be in this new place?  How will it change us and what will it bring out?  We are the same people in each country, surely, but different parts of you get exercised depending on where you call home.

I can't wait to see what our new home holds for us... but I want to make sure we make the most of the months we have left on this side of the world.

The beginning of beginnings...

I started this blog in 2005 as I was preparing to make a major change in my life.  I was moving, from Winnipeg, Manitoba to Seoul, South Korea and my life would never again be the same.

Since that time, I've moved back across the world for love, moved to yet another continent with my love, and now we are preparing to return to the states, this time for an area that C. has never been, and that I have longed for since I was young.

A huge weight has been lifted, since we were waiting months to hear where we'd be going next, and the weight/wait seemed particularly heavy in the past few weeks.  Plans couldn't be made, travel couldn't be planned.  Things just seemed 'on hold', and honestly, nothing makes you feel quite so out of control as not even knowing where you'll be living at the end of the summer.

We're very happy with our next assignment, but leaving Germany will be so bittersweet.

We've loved Europe.  The sensibility, the pace, the enjoyment of good food, good wine, long walks, the outdoors, and the company of others.  Hopefully these are all values we can take back with us and seek out in our new home.

This will be the first time we can buy a place of our own, since moving every year and a half for the past seven or so wasn't exactly conducive to making a purchase.

The idea of picking out paint colours and knowing it's our walls we're painting, well, it's easy to take for granted if you have had your own space for a while, but we are so excited for the new adventure.

The fact that we'll be closer to my country of birth, that I'll be able to show my husband even more of the country I was raised in, is so wonderful.  We'll be able to visit family a little easier and phone calls will be on similar time zones.  Birthday presents can be sent more easily by mail and the fact that I can get in the car and drive to them (though it's still quite the road trip) cannot be easily ignored.

In 2005, I left Canada, intending to only go and have an adventure abroad for a year.  I am so happy with all the places my life has taken me, (even the hard, unforgiving desert)... but I am ready to go 'home'.

"Maybe the struggle to grace was grace; maybe the struggle to love was love. Maybe you didn't have to get anywhere, you just had to go.
And I thought, I am ready to go home now. It's time to drive in the other direction."    Lili Wright, Learning To Float

My Biennial Life

Another move on the horizon, and I'm starting to sense a pattern emerging.  I lived in Korea for a year and a half,  then was off to Texas for a little more than a year and a half.  Found myself in Tennessee for about a year and a half, and we've been here in Europe for almost that same amount of time.

Am I really destined to move every year and a half to two years?

On one hand, it's exhilarating.

In a book I'm reading called The Happiness Project, Gretchen Rudin talks about studies that show that despite the fact that most people think that familiarity breeds happiness, it's actually not true.  Novelty and challenge are what works for most people.  Being exposed to new experiences tends to lift our spirits.

I experienced this so strongly on my first two adventures abroad.  Mexico in my early 20's and Korea in my mid-20's.  I loved every minute, even when I hated it.  Even when Seoul was kicking my ass, I felt at times that my heart would burst just sitting in a coffee shop, writing and people watching.  I remember walking around the city, getting my first cuddle of the day from my kindergarten class, taking a moment to sit back and revel in watching my friends talk over dinner, and thinking 'This.  This is happiness.'  Sometimes it would almost bring tears to my eyes.

Those same feelings now occur every single time I see my parents or friends back home.  They are no longer simply familiar... in fact, time with them is novel... and I find myself swept up in it and relishing every single second.

It's not that I wasn't happy before, on the contrary, I was very happy.  But I think that to some extent, I did not yet know how happy I was capable of being.  I didn't really understand what made me happy, if I'm honest.  I knew I loved my family, cared for my friends deeply, enjoyed many things about my hometown.  But I took so much for granted, precisely because I could.  I enjoyed dinner with my parents, and long chats with friends, but I didn't realize how lucky I was to have them, and so I was not often fully present.  I was doing my grocery list, making plans, thinking ahead, looking back.

I can remember, a few months after arriving in Korea, after the weather had begun to turn cool, I was sitting in a coffee shop drinking a tea latte and looking out at the world while I wrote in my blog.  I remember actually feeling the pressure in my chest from my heart expanding.  I loved this new world I found myself in so much, and I loved my family for letting me go (although I know it wasn't easy), and my best friend for allowing me to join her on the journey.

I can remember that moment so vividly that it still brings tears to my eyes.  It was similar to the day I moved out into my first apartment.  My dad and brother had just left after helping me haul boxes into the one bedroom in the city, and I lay on the floor of my bedroom, the sun spilling in the window, my bookcase unpacked already, and I was happy.  So happy.  I was a little scared being all on my own for the first time, but that is part of why I was happy.  I was in the unfamiliar.  I was starting on a new path and carving out my way.  And it was more than I thought I deserved.

It still is.

So here we go again.  After a year and a half in Germany, we'll find out soon where we'll be moved to next.  A continent (same one or different)?  A peninsula?  An island?   A coast?  Will we be buying a little house and fixing it up this time next year, or sitting in a condo looking at skyscrapers?  Will there be hiking trips, a bustling city, palm trees, or cappuccinos in our future?

Our whole world is put on hold for at least the next few weeks while the powers that be decide what's next.  And it will all be fine.  I'm preparing myself, mentally, for whichever they choose, and I'm ready to see what the future holds.

At least for the next two years.   ;o)

a trip down memory lane...

In searching for a computer cable that I was sure I still had somewhere, I came across a small box of keepsakes.  An unfamiliar eye would chalk it up to some old photos and torn ticket stubs, but after combing through it for half an hour, I realized that it sums up the last decade of my life rather well, and it was a nice trip down memory lane.

Sometimes, I think we focus so much on the most recent or most common struggle that we are facing and forget to step back and survey our life as a whole.  That is of course, how we live it, one moment to the next, but if we never stop to sit and take a look back, we miss out on the opportunity to relive those wonderful (and sometimes painful) moments that brought us to where we are today.

I definitely recommend sitting down with a box of 'stuff' or those photos you always meant to get organized, and relive the past for a couple of minutes.  I guarantee, it'll lift your spirits and give you a little kick to make some new memories that you can look back on years from now.

and the world keeps moving on...

The murmurs have begun about another move in our near future.  This one would most likely keep us in Europe but move us out of Germany and with each potential move, I have to rethink... regroup and mentally prepare for the change.

It's amazing how much I have changed over these last five years.  I came into all this as someone who was a planner, who always had an emergency bag packed and an understanding of where I would be in the next year and what I would be doing.  That person was, in some ways, more grounded, but also more easily toppled.  She was someone who was so busy dealing with the day to day that she often forgot to step back and see the big picture.

The person I am today smiles at the challenge that moving to another country brings.  This person is still practical, and she'll have houses picked out and the area scouted before her family steps foot on that foreign soil, but she is more open to the process than ever before.  She will watch as the movers pack and unpack photos of her family and friends, she will put the dishes in her new kitchen and find the market and stores to stock the fridge with unfamiliar food.  She will set up a home in a place that she never imagined she would be and watch in amazement as the culture presents itself.

I am not in as much of a hurry as I once was.  I realize that in my early years as a military spouse, I was trying to fit a round peg in a square hole and I struggled so much as a result.  At some point in the last three years, I came to realize that if I stepped out of the box entirely, I could get a view of things as a whole and better navigate the terrain.  A part of me wishes I could go back to those first two years.  Wishes I could step into that role again with the knowledge I have now and just enjoy the moments.  Watch C. transform from a soldier to my husband at the end of each day, accept the tears that came with deployment, feel the hot, dry heat of an El Paso summer on my skin, and embrace my outsider status.

But we don't get to go back, we can only live forward.  I railed against those first two years.  I tried to pretend that my husband's chosen career didn't have to affect my life, didn't have to change everything... but it did.  It does.  It has given me a unique perspective, one that I never imagined.  It has opened my eyes to things I didn't necessarily want to see or know, but for which I am richer for understanding.

So there may be another move.  Another country, another city, another home, another adventure.  I will not live in my country of birth for a long time to come, if ever again.  I will see more than I ever imagined, but be far from those I love. And my address will change again and again.  The story will get longer and more complex with sharp twists and turns, but here is the thing I did not understand in the beginning... here is the part that it took be five years to really see:

I am never alone in this.  That there are two people navigating those twists and turns.  That I can lean on him and him on me and we can take turns loving and struggling with this life.  That I don't need to carve out my place here because there has always been a place for me, even when I was looking too closely to see it.

It looks different than I had imagined.  I do not have all the things in line that I thought I would by this point in my life, but if I had followed the path I'd set out on, I would have missed out on everything that followed.

I've hiked in North Korea, been covered in mud at a festival in South Korea, wandered through bookstores in Mexico, talked politics with a restaurant owner in Amsterdam, shopped the farmer's markets of Germany and Spain, stood on the Great Wall in China, ate sushi in Japan, explored the streets of Venice with my parents, been caught up in protests in Bangkok, slept on an uninhabited island in the South of Thailand, and eaten the best food of my life in Paris. At times, I feel more fortunate than I deserve... and I need to keep that in mind.

I need to keep it in my mind when I'm so homesick, when the skies are grey for weeks, when the move results in broken treasures, and I miss out on another family dinner or milestone.  I need to remember it as little nephews are growing so quickly, and cultural differences make the smallest task difficult.  When I am stuck in airports and government offices, near tears because the weight of the deployment is washing over me and I can't find the words to explain what it's like.  I must remember...  we are fortunate.  Nothing is promised to us.  And no matter where it takes us, it's guaranteed to be one hell of a ride.  ;o)

Germany... why do you rain on me so?

Sometimes, when you're feeling down, it's the simplest things you have a hard time getting up the motivation to do.

It's been a year and half now that we've been living in Germany and I can't say that I wasn't warned about the weather.  The cloud cover and rain is getting to me.  Although it hasn't been especially cold yet, I honestly would trade a few major snowstorms and much chillier temperatures for these weeks upon weeks of grey skies.

Just before we were moved to Germany, C. and I took a three week trip to Thailand and met several Germans on an island in the South.  They were about our age and younger and they were completely giddy.  Not 'on vacation' giddy, but 'I've-never-been-this-happy-in-my-life-and-I-may-never-be-again' giddy.  At the time, I wrote it off as being a result of it being their first exposure to Thailand, a place I love and that also makes me supremely happy... but it was more than that... and now I understand.  It was late February, and they had not seen the sun come out in Germany since at least November.  They were sun-starved and it showed on their glee-filled, sunburned faces.

Despite what you may think you know about Canada, with the exception of the coasts, we are a sunny nation.  In the dead of winter, it is so cold on the prairies precisely because it is so sunny.  There is no cloud cover to keep things warm.  Just clear blue skies, bright sun, and  blood-curdling temperatures.  Although you run through the street to your car, bundled up and swearing less quietly than you should, once inside, you can sit back by the fire or with a warm cup of coffee and let the sunlight spill through the windows.

Summers on the prairies get quite warm and when the rare clouds do blow in, it is usually to take part in a fantastic thunderstorm, before rolling right on.

I can dress for the cold, I can dress for the warmth, but I have not yet figured out how to get out and about during the rain and the drizzle.  I love the sound of a rainstorm on the windows and skylights, but day after day and night after night is a bit ridiculous, and I'm definitely starting to crack.  Everyone seems a little less cheery, a little less smiley and bright as these days wear on.  We slouch a little more, bow our heads on our walks, and even our canine companions seem more apt to laying in front of the fireplace than romping in the fields.

So what to do?  Short of moving to Hawaii (which is high on the future wishlist... bring on the sunshine baby!!),  it's the end of January and with at least another two months of this, I have to figure out how to get it together.  We have another deployment on the horizon and many changes in the near future, but I can't very well hide out for the next two months... so what to do?

To be continued...  ;o)

Back to beginnings...

This Christmas was amazing.  Having my husband, family, and friends in the same place at the same time makes me absolutely giddy.  Often, when I return to my hometown, it's to find comfort and support during the long months of the deployments, but when I get to take that trip with husband in hand, I am reminded of everything I have to be grateful for.

There were moments during our three weeks back in North America where I simply felt overwelmed with emotion.  I would close my eyes and listen to the voices of the people I love, the inevitable noise and bustle of a full house.  It's easy, when you have your family and friends within reachable distance, to forget how important they are to you.  To take for granted the dinners and lunches, and small talk over tea.  I have the unique perspective, after living away from my home for almost seven years now,  to see what a blessing it is to have everyone in one place.  To see them laughing and talking.  To sit back and take it all in, precisely because it is not something I get all that often.

I did not, of course, have everyone I wanted together at once.  They are in different places, on different continents, spending time with their own families.  I know that I may never have everyone in the same place at the same time, but I am so grateful when I get a few together and have C. with me.

When we got back to Germany, it hit us both quite hard.  Although we have met some incredible people here, and have had some amazing adventures in our first year and a half, it does not come without it's cost.  Three little nephews are growing and changing so rapidly now.  We are missing out on the day to day in the lives of those we love.  And although the distance has not affected the most important relationships in our lives (we seem to pick up precisely where we left off, no matter how much time has passed), it does make the quiet of our home seem to speak so much more loudly than before.

Paris, Amsterdam... you beautiful cities you...

If you've been reading this blog for a while, you will not be surprised to learn of my deep seated love for Paris, but my previous visit to Amsterdam was a very short day trip and although I loved what I saw, I didn't see nearly enough to fall in love completely. That was, until C. and I took a trip late in November to explore the city together.  And it's official... we are in love.

Amsterdam gets a bad rap. If you mention the name, most people immediately think of the Red Light district and pot. It's really unfortunate, because although the fact that legal prostitution and legalized marijuana is a small part of what makes The Netherlands an interesting place politically and socially, far too much emphasis is placed on these two things alone.  The Red Light District is contained in a specific part of the city and certainly not the prettiest or most interesting part of it.  We spent most of our time in the Jordaan area, where you can find the Anne Frank House and the best restaurants.

Amsterdam is a city filled with fantastic art galleries, incredible food, interesting stores, more canals than Venice can boast and bikes... bikes everywhere! This is probably the most fantastic thing... the bikes. The trams and buses can get you all over the city, but the bikes with their own lanes and traffic lights are simply fantastic. You have not seen a truly 'bike-friendly' city until you've experienced Amsterdam.

Amsterdam is the very definition of eclectic. The people are friendly and laid-back, but incredibly creative and individualistic. Since we are big foodies, we tend to get talking to chefs and restaurant owners wherever we go, and Amsterdam was no exception. C. was beaming after a conversation with the owner of Seasons in the Jordaan district (highly recommended!! Yumm!!).  We talked politics, foreign policy, and what life is generally like in the Netherlands and North America.

On our fourth trip to Paris, we stayed near the Louvre in a studio apartment and got to experience life as a Parisian. After several days of exploring Paris on foot and the Metro, we made the seemingly innocent decision to visit some popular department stores to finish up our Christmas shopping... big mistake!! We barely made it out alive!

For anyone who would consider themselves an avid shopper (and I would definitely not put myself in this category... as I've usually had enough 10 minutes in) I would dare you to try your skills out against the shoppers of Paris. It is a sport... a bloodsport at that. :o) We were exhausted by the end of an hour and had glass of wine in hand a few moments later, trying to figure out what had just happened. Note to self... no department stores in future Paris visits. There is plenty else to see (and eat!), and the tiny shops that line most streets are far more interesting and less chaos-inducing.  :)

With our Christmas trips coming up, we're trying to get things organized. There are three handsome nephews that better be prepared for some spoiling... and some of my favourite people in the world who I can't wait to catch up with. Yay for Christmas and the people we love!

Happy holidays to you and yours!

Small humans on the brain...

So, we've come to the point in life where we start planning for small humans to take over our lives. We've been talking about it for years and have always been on the same page... "when things settle down a bit"... but we've come to realize that our idea of 'settled' and others ideas are very different, and this is what settled looks like. For now. I have a lot of fears about motherhood. The degree to which it will change my relationship with C. My family and closest friends being so far away during all of it. Travelling with a wee one... deployments leaving me a single mom for months at a time and so many other things that most women don't necessarily have to worry about. But if I've learned anything, it's that your life will look the way to want it to look, and with a little creativity, you can make anything work. So, we'll see. We haven't completely decided yet if this is the path we are taking, and timing is an incredibly tricky thing given the deployments and life abroad in general... but the idea is currently bringing more excitement than trepidation. Perhaps it's simply the next adventure in the cards, if not the ultimate one.

Cycles...

Today was the first frost in our neck of the woods, and it was an excellent reminder that winter is indeed on its way.

It's easy to forget, with the falling of the leaves and approaching stasis of winter, that the trees are, in fact, preparing for renewal. Taking off their worn clothes and preparing for bright, new garments.

I think that everyone's lives follow certain cycles. Times when we are productive, and others, when we find it difficult to move forward. Moments when we are filled with happiness and those when we fall into the depths of sadness. There are times when we are helpful to others, and those when we turn our back on those we promised to love, or even ourselves. But no matter the part of the cycle we find ourselves in, we will not remain there forever. Change happens whether we wish for it or pray against it, and we are always capable of finding our way back.

I am still learning how to live the uneven cycles of my life. My best friend and love comes and goes and I have to learn to move forward both in step with him and on my own. It's a strange idea, because I always thought myself so independent, but making so much room for someone in your heart and then closing off that space when they leave so that you don't bleed out is far harder than I had imagined, and much more difficult than being on my own ever was.

When he is here, there are moments when I find myself unable to forget that there will come a time when we will be apart again. I realize that many moments are even sweeter because of the time apart, the inability to take one another for granted both a blessing and a curse, but it can be exhausting, the rise and fall of togetherness. It is a little like surfing, except that you never get to come in from the water. The thrill eventually giving way to the knowledge that you could be swept out to sea if you lose your balance on the board.

This year, the world and I have been on different cycles. It thawed and renewed as I was preparing for the hibernation of his deployment. It began to close up and freeze over as I am beginning to sense the thaw. And in a years time, (or just a few months), we will will do it all over again.

But Spring is always guaranteed, even it takes its time in finding us.