In fact, I feel I should know better. I have moved houses and countries now more than anyone I know. From my hometown to cool and fun Montreal. In a village in India, probably the most intense culture shock ever. In Vancouver, same country but different mentality and weather. In the warm and happy Toulouse, in the South of France. In Lausanne, pretty and quiet. In slow Ziguinchor, in the lush Casamance, the southern-most province of Senegal. Back in Montreal, welcome back reverse culture shock. In Brazzaville, recovering from the war, yet troubled. In Liberia, discovering the peacekeeping world and sub-culture and learning surfing on my free times. In Washington, back to civilization, yet a stranger in the American culture. A year later, in Beijing, digging deep in this millennial culture. And now Brasilia.
All my experiences have come with an intensity of their own, with questioning and soul-searching, and at one point or another, with resistances from my part to "be part" of the new culture. In almost all cases, there were struggles not only with a new language or new expressions, but also with new ways of dealing with problems, and new ways of thinking. And of course in some cases, it came with the impression to be a bit of a circus animal for the local who watched me bemused. At times, I had the impression that I had to mourn something inside myself, some part of me, or maybe some beliefs before being able to enjoy my new "home". But in all cases, in various degrees, I was able to settle, immerse myself in my new place, and enjoy it.
This time is no different. Same struggles on different grounds. The language. The orientation in a new culture. The new settings. Figuring out what are the "special rules" of Brazil, whether it is socially or on the road. Meeting new people, making new friends. Searching for the good addresses, scoping stores searching for the right ingredients or the rights produces. Determining the value of things. Finding differences. Looking for similarities.
Yet this time this move is different. Settling in with two kids is not the same. The freedom to explore rapidly this new city is limited. The choices are more complex, more involved. The kids requirements - food, play, school, bathtime, bedtime - make for a schedule that is more regimented, taking our days on a rhythm leaving less room for impulsive explorations and unexpected discoveries. But in fact, it is this coupled with my difficulty to find a nanny/household help that leaves me stranded with very limited time for anything other than the mere "mundane". In fact this has been one of the most important factor infringing my quest of "making my own place" here.
But beyond this, it is Brasilia, the city itself, and its structure that has also been, in a very unexpected way, a factor of "pain". I am using the word loosely here, but in fact I refer to the frustrations resulting from how this city forces us to do or not to do certain things. The hyper-segregation of everything in sectors (commercial, medical, education, housing, recreation, all in their respective corners of the city), the distances involved daily, the risks related to security issues, the lack of physical center to the city, its awkward line of commercial buildings in some places, and the lack of a physical street front almost anywhere else, the impossibility to walk around. All these elements have contributed to my incapacity (yet) of "falling in love with the place". Of course this compounded by the difficulty to get things done quickly and efficiently adds up to my frustration. But that should be the subject of another post later!
So so so. So what to do? Earlier in September, feeling a wave of frustration, I dropped everything for a day - language classes and errands - and baked. The result was good, for the soul and for the tummy. For those who know me, I never bake (I usually limit myself to cooking meals). Later, I escaped with my newly made friends to do some yoga for the weekend. At times I go to playdates with new friends (and enjoy some time with new mommy friends while kids are playing) or drop everything to join an special event. But I know now I need to find the perl to replace our beloved ayi so that I can start having a bit of time to make my soul feel at home here.
A banana-cake tatin, made with the instructions of Ricardo, the famous Quebec Chef.
Despite all of this, all hopes are not vanished yet. I am still hopeful to settle happily. When it comes to expat blues, there is an abundant literature. This resonated for me: "When you live abroad, you realize that, no matter where you are, you will always be an-expat. (Read more at here). So indeed, and consequently, as an expat, I was forced to grown adaptive tools and mechanisms. These make me much faster at ease in a new, unknown or difficult environment. And knowing this, deep down, leaves me with no panic. I will learn to love to be here, I will learn to extract the best out of this place. It is the slowness of the process that drives me in sane. As the Brazilians say: "Devagar". Slowly.
I need to meditate a little more on that.
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