Before I started moving to various countries, the concept of an “expat” was completely foreign to me(see what I did there?). I imagined the worldly but spoiled children of diplomats, fancy French people having fancy French dinner parties and the occasional mid-twenties backpacker traveling the world to get as far away from America as possible. The worst was imagining groups of these expats living in whatever foreign country and only hanging out with people from their own country and spending extraordinary amounts of money on foods from home. I scoffed in the face of expats.
And I’ve only just realized I now am one after spendindg $8 on a can of pumpkin to have some semblance of Thanksgiving today (remember: NZ is a day ahead).
Maybe it’s the upcoming holidays that’s making me feel so homesick.
After a lot of back and forth, it doesn’t look like I’m going home for Christmas. While there’s pretty much nothing I want more than to see my family, my best friends and spend the holidays in a country where there’s snow in December, the thought of spending $3,000 on a flight makes me choke. I think about all the other things I can spend that money on – a better apartment, seeing parts of f New Zealand I haven’t yet… even just chucking that money in a savings account for whenever I do come home.
So I’m staying here. And missing Thanksgiving too, my favorite holiday of all time. A holiday that’s essentially been the same event in my family home for my entire life. The food, the company, the music and the strangers and family friends who inevitably end up at our rather loud table.
A few weeks ago I talked to my grandma for the first time since Christmas. We usually only talk for ten minutes or so because she doesn’t want to “keep me” but I couldn’t love that woman more. So the thought of not seeing her for another year kills me.
Then I talked to two of my brothers. Again, for the first time in almost a year. The two of them – buff and manly teenagers mind you – were curled up in bed together with the computer on their laps telling me about Joe’s driver’s permit and Sam’s studies. It couldn’t have been more awesome talking to them, but it only makes the homesickness worse. (Even though Sam has completely taken over my room and the bed I lovingly painted myself.)
It’s funny because I’ve now been living out of the States for over a year and a half and as much as aspects of home drive me batshit insane, I know now for sure I could never live this far from the people I love on a permanent basis.
And now I understand what being an “expat” really means. It means not being able to call your friends and family without a roadmap and instructions because of the time difference. It means hunting down your favorite foods from home because that smell or taste or packaging brings you a little bit of comfort. It means accidentally writing “favourite” instead of “favorite” because you’ve lost the ability to spell properly.
It means constantly wondering what finally coming home will be like and worrying you might not have a place anywhere.
That said, my Thanksgiving in London is one of my fondest memories.
Thankfully, I have real Thanksgiving plans tonight with an American I met on that art tour of K’Rd. This is a giant sigh of relief and I have a feeling it’s going to be another Turkey Day to remember.
But with Christmas looming? While it might be another holiday I’m freaked out about spending alone, my mom’s been saying, “If you can make Christmas a fun day in a new place, you’ve really accomplished something. It will force you to make New Zealand your home.”
Let’s keep our fingers crossed, shall we?
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