Petites Madeleines

Some of us are born bakers, while others chefs. I love being invited to my friends E, she makes these amazing petites madeleines, a treat that is absolutely impossible to find here.

When we got here, a newly-made friend described our future life as a "never ending BBQ". I would tend to correct him and say it is a "never ending food tasting event"... Nothing to complain about!

Coffee Cultures are not Always the Same

The other day I found myself very distracted in my yoga class.  Beside her mat, this woman had what appeared to be a cup of Starbucks coffee. A clarification to my foreign-based readership: there are no Starbucks in Brasilia. I meditated over that cup while we were doing breathing exercises, wondering about the reasons of my disturbance. I mean, I am not a Starbucks lover. Even if crowds love them, I have never found their coffee amazing; the various coffee mixes and drinks they proposed never were my thing.
But in many other countries, Starbucks coffee shops are merge into the urban landscape. They have invaded cities like Paris, London and Moscow, they are a place to retreat, read, surf the web, more than just a place to get a drink.
In Beijing these stores would inhabit the lobby of many towers. Affluent Chinese would splurge to get a coffee that could cost them 4 times less in a local shop.
In Vancouver, I remember a street corner with 3 Starbucks shops kitty corner from one another. And in the streets, hardly no passerby's hands, strollers or backpack was without a Starbucks thermos-mug.
Here in Brasilia then, no Starbucks.  Nope, none. Zero. (There is no Ikea either, but that is another topic entirely).
My years in Africa were also Starbucks-free - but this was no surprise as neither Senegal, Congo or Liberia rhymed with coffee culture, nor popular destination for American imperialism. And I was not there looking for places to hang out, I was far too busy with my work then.
But the absence of Starbucks does not mean a place is not a coffee culture, at the contrary.
As an example, Italy is entirely Starbucks-free. But in Italy, the coffee culture is strong, and with like any Italian things, its making and serving requires precision. No frapuccino latté with soy milk topped with cinnamon is allowed passed the Italian border. Here, tiny cups of creamy and smooth coffee are drank quickly standing at the bar. And cappuccinos are reserved for late afternoon, when there is time to leisurely savor the beverage.  In Italy, coffee is so good that even an expresso is drank without sugar. Now Starbucks cannot compete with that.
Here in Brazil coffee is available almost everywhere. It is no surprise since the country produces about one third of all the world's production. The coffee culture is deeply linked to the history of the economic development of the country and slavery.
Yet for my North American eye, this local coffee culture is full of contradiction.
Today, years after the abolition of slavery, coffee is very present in Brazilians' lives. I like to think it is expressed by this interesting linguistic fact: When having their breakfast, the Brazilians say "tomar café de manha", literally to drink a morning coffee, even if there is no coffee involved, or even if they are solely eating their breakfast.
In daily life, coffee is usually available for free in popular restaurants, those buffet "by the kilo", from a thermos, in a self-help form. The super strong and sweetened brew is also available for free in grocery stores, gas stations, doctor's office and other places with waiting involved. It is available in about every grocery stores, even in the dodgy ones, maybe hiding at the end of an aisle. And at best you might get three sips from these baby size plastic cups. Not really the best way to enjoy it I guess, but certainly a good way to get a coffee fix.
When we arrived here, I tried to find where I could go for a coffee. Even if i quickly found the stand in the aisle of the grocery store, it did not really feel like my kind of hangout. But coffee shops did not pop in front of my eyes the same way they did in Italy, France or New York, yet this could initially be attributed to the unique quirkiness of Brasilia. I found them in malls and small shopping complexes. But what I found most often were pastry shops serving coffee. And while these shops would serve all the unimaginable types of local and foreign cakes and pastries, coffee was usually a very simple, black, bitter expresso (which I love).
In some of them, I sat with my computer to work, but in most occasions I felt at odd, either stealing valuable seating place for those rushing in and out. Laptops in these pastry shops were not a common sight, or even just people sitting for more than 20 minutes after they finish their drinks. Probably nobody said anything because I was obviously a foreigner. Or because my portuguese was null at the time. These places were not coffee shops in a anglo-saxon world, Starbucks way. I eventually just gave these up.
In any cases, the other day I just walked into one of these restaurants, those that have their breakfast buffet open early. I was seeing people walking out with what I assumed was egg sandwiches. I ordered a coffee, to go.
Just the Starbucks way, right.
The waitress firstly expressed some kind of surprise but produced the desired beverage in a styrofoam cup, without lid. When I indicated that this was not going to work in my car, she just simply covered the cup with a plastic film. I stood there puzzled, at the cashier, wondering how to address this situation, how to drink it while driving.
I was just reminded again there is no Starbucks way here.
I just picked a straw into the film: Ready to go!

Testing out the New Camera

While walking I am taking along my new camera. I purchased a Canon G15, following the recommendation of our friend Adi, who is a professional photographer in Tel Aviv. I could not imagine taking the big Nikon and its big lens along. It would be too heavy, too cumbersome to carry around in a hike. I like to take photos, but I would be afraid to actually come back with some damaged equipment.
So now that my pretty cute and light G15 as arrived, I am playing and testing it around. What better time to do than than during my morning walks? The light is great, adding a glowing yellow tone to everything.

Working these Feet Again

After 8 weeks of cast, I am trying to put my feet back onto a regime. I get out in the morning and go walk around the area, in the SMDBs and the back streets. I am pretty happy, it feels very good, and the walking is not bothering my foot at all. I put on my old walking boots, the ones that took me around the Pirenées and the Alpes and the Rockies. These Merrel are still the best boot I have ever had.
Off the boots, barefoot, I still have trouble flexing and pointing my toes, but I am told the cast was on too long. A lovely physiotherapist help them get back to their normal state. And high heels are out for now, limiting my choices of footwear to a handful of pairs. But that said, I now really enjoy the return of my mobility, and these early morning walks.

Getting Ready

After 2 weeks of pain and 8 weeks of super boot, I am now free!

The hike we planned is coming soon. I need to get ready. Here is what I found online, to do in 7 minutes, total. I hope it works!

You can read about these exercises here. (note, to scroll down on this site you need to use your mouse like if it is your finger on your ipad).

Symptoms

High pitch screams. Body throwing around the floor. Hyper-sensitivity to any kind of looks, comments or wind breezes. Delicate skin unable to bear hugs or tickles. Drama acting about a leg who might just fall off. Hunger to kill. Unstoppable laughter. Incapacity to sit still. 
No, it is not me. 
Just my over-tired 3-1/2 years old.
I guess this could also be labelled "Scarlatina's symptoms". 

SMDBs

We live in Lago Sul, a suburb of Brasilia, in the SMDB area; in the Setor de Mansões Dom Bosco. The name could be translated by the Dom Bosco Sector of the Manors, or something similar.  Even if it is not within the Plano Piloto, Lago Sul is a suburb planned along with the same rules as the rest of Brasilia: everything of similar use goes together. Consequently, the SMDB are the areas for large single family houses. And it is hard to find anything else there.
The interesting thing about the SMDB area is its order, which is very different from the rest of the city. Usually in Brasilia things are organized in an orderly fashion. Number are organized in order; 1, 2, 3 follow each other, as one would normally assume. I mentioned earlier that there is no conventional street name. Things are rather divided in areas, in large zones (like the SMDB for example, but also like the hospital sector, the school sector, the shopping sector), and then broken down in Quadras (neigborhoods) or in Conjuntos (junctions), and then the building number can be given. In Lago Sul, the entire area was sub-divided in two, the quadras along the lake - QL - and the inner quadras - QI. Then a set of numbers are given to all the little dead-end streets on which houses are aligned.
Here in the SMDBs, it is a little more tricky. First the SMDBs are not accessible from everywhere. They are clusters of a few SMDBs conjunctos (or small streets) and each of these clusters are accessible from a limited number of entry points through the QIs, and sometimes by only one point. The first trick is to learn where are these entry points. Then the SMDBs are sprinkled in a orderly fashion that is visible only from above - some big (ego) master plan power (also known as Costa, the planner), laid these around like someone sprinkles salt on his beans. The result is a little odd from the ground, where 17 and 16 are encountered before 14, where 12 is mix beside 28 and where you have 12a 12b and 12c next to 31 but really really far from 12 - an after-thought obviously. These SMDBs are usually on the hills behind the QIs. They all have either a view of the lake or a view of the surrounding hills, streams and nature.

Why am I writing here about this? Simply because the spatial arrangement of the SMDBs creates a unusual maze of roads and nature. I have enjoyed driving along their roads while trying to get Emmanuel to nap (a car ride does wonders these days).  I have circumvented my son's sleep patterns with the discovery of the area, while day-dreaming of landscapes over which these houses gaze. I keep taking some shortcuts (that are not always so short) just to keep that impression of being in the countryside. At times I stop the car, and contemplate a landscape that, if standing in the right place, makes you feel that you are somewhere else, away from a city, deep in nature. And I just love it...
Here is a view from this backroad shortcut to our house, under the light of the afternoon ending. Gleaming atop of the hill is our house and our neighbors'. I love this view.

And this photo does not really makes justice to the beauty of landscape.

Counting our Blessings

When I got here, it was really difficult for me to adapt. There is no doubt that many things are still challenging. I am not going to list them here, it is not my point. Rather I just paused this weekend, while we hosting a few of our friends, and realized that we are blessed in so many ways here.
We have this beautiful weather, most of the year. It is sunny and warm.
Nature here is just stunning. And pristine. And there is no absolutely no pollution like we had in Beijing.
We made so many good friends, so many good people are surrounding us now. So many interesting and special individuals.
And we are very blessed to have landed in the house we have now. 

Beavers

Little beavers are having the genes of their mommy architect. Lego houses, houses under the table and houses out of bedsheets, my kids are building building building!

Trailing Low

I woke up feeling crapy, wondering if this tightness on my chest will turn into a normal cold or into pneumonia. So I laid low most morning.
After lunch, a friend came by to drop her kid for play date with my boys. Since returning from our travels, my boys have been in Lego LaLa Land, playing hours non-stop, almost making me feel obsolete. So the idea of a play date while feeling unwell is not really dreadful, as their little friend is as much of a Lego passionate as them. And my dear Empregada is watching.
Yet I was enjoying my decaf when the mom and son pair came in, and used this as an excuse to get some company to my sipping. We nicely chatted about mundane things. Then she eventually opened up, talking about her own difficulties to be an efficient, productive, home-based contractual working mom. And self-estime issues related to performing such role.
In this life, where simple errants require logistics and planning (ever gone to the bank for 2 hours? or twice a week? or driven 10 km for it?), it is not difficult for me to equally feel incompetent at performing the regular stuff. In a way, since I arrived here, I have been mostly absorbed with mundane things in the morning, and kids care for the rest of the day.
It brings me back to two elements: self-confidence and work. Since I started my expatriate life, I have met many types of expat wives (the trailing spouses, as we are often labeled). Those who try to keep a professional life, and adapt their career and occupation to their new surroundings, despite the odds. And those who, for various reasons, decide to just make the best of their situation, without a professional take on their occupation - either by painting, golfing, charity work, coffees and chats, language learning, sewing, shopping, hosting, knitting, writing, you name it. In Beijing I even met a group of women, self-labelled "snitch and bitch", meeting around a yarn in a coffee shop. These women who give up their careers are not always doing it by choice, but they seems to enjoy much better time during their posting.  I guess I have a guilt factor that hinder fully enjoying these activities as full time ones.
As women who studied for a long time, and worked hard to get (close to have) a career, we give a great value to what we do, and it is always a little difficult to be reduced to be "the wife of" and to really only be remarkable for the quality of your housekeeping skills. 
So many of us will try really hard to keep at it, sometimes working remotely, sometimes creating a new career path, sometimes accepting work conditions we would usually rebuke, sometimes creating our own business. Sometimes it is easier, as we have a comparative advantage - maybe our language skills, maybe our own international experience. But most time it won't be easy. 
My friend's pain certainly comes from working in isolation, on tight deadlines, in a very competitive environment where she is somewhat disadvantaged, by working remotely and intermittently. I share her pain. I have experienced this in China, and now, although I am not officially working, I am somewhat feeling this, the disadvantage and the loneliness of writing articles on my own. The feeling of not really being able to realize oneself fully, professionally and/or personally, and to feel lost or forgotten behind the action.
But in fact this post will probably need to be expanded later, as there is so much to be said about being a working mother, a home-based working mom (there is a contradiction just in this label), and a mutant-always-reinventing-yourself-professional due to our constant rotation of postings linked to our expatriate status. Have you ever imagine how much energy it takes? Maybe that is why today I just laid low in the morning. That felt better.

Those Things we Take for Granted

In the list of things we take for granted, there is the box of plastic film with the little metal cutter. Sounds like a petty thing, but really, cutting the plastic film again over the food once again and again without being able to do it in a clean way, with a little cutting edge incorporated into the box, is indeed some kind of luxury. Yes these "modern" boxes are available in some, but not all, grocery stores. But finding them is an exercise, and keeping them, is, indeed, a special task. And living without them is a zen exercise. Ask my dad and June.

Becoming more French than the French

Our house has an amazing garden in the back, but we do not go there enough. The kids are happy to have a green and flat yard to play football. We received a set of balls a few days ago, and now the backyard has also become a pétanque yard. By a chance I imported a bottle of pastis from China!

Shopping Habits

Similarly to when I lived in other emerging (or depressed) economies, supply chains in Brazil do not always equal demand. In other words, you might find a lot of an item one day and never see it again later. For example these large jars of sun-dried tomatoes in oil that were available in Carrefour in the fall, and completely disappeared since. Or I might never find a specific item, until I stumble on it in a very unusual store - recently here I found blueberries, fresh. Or at times some items are getting the exotic tax (so the blueberries are US$30).  The taxation has a lot to do with this unreliable supply of goods. Who would pay for US$10 for asparagus or 15 for endives - apart from me?

In terms of shopping habits, it means that if I see something I might eventually need later, I buy it now, and usually in quantity. Or I might not remember exactly where that specific store was in the row of these very nondescript facades. Or some items are so hard to come by I might as well buy a collection of them, for the future. Or just because I hate waiting in line for these things I need week after week. Any of these are essentially a good excuse for really bad shopping habits, and make it difficult to achieve my ideals of simple living.

In practice, for us expats, it also means using our visitors as mule. Our friend D came one time with a delivery of cereal and mac&cheese boxes. My dad carried kids underwear, cereals and French language exercise books, all for the kids. Another friend lugged gin bottles. My husband shrugs to the idea of going to the US, as the terms "mission" aptly applies. The kids are always thrilled when we have visitors, except when they carry alcohol. 

It also means that when I travel, I already have a list of items to purchase, mostly food items. This latest trip to Tel Aviv was a special stocking moment, an unique occasion to fill my pantry with fresh spices, sun-dried tomatoes, cheeses, olive oil, yogurt, typical israeli snacks, bread, what not. I came back with 35 kilos of goodies. I just could not help myself.

As I am writing this post I realized that you might find me slightly neurotic. Until you come over for dinner.

Pool Work

When we were negotiating with our landlord, we briefly talked about the pool. He said that there was no solar heating system for it. What I missed is that there was also not filtration system. With its dimensions of 20 m by 5 m, it is probably one of the largest dengue mosquito breading pond in the area.
The filter-less pools are not really unusual here. Many young men make a living cleaning these pools, driving around beaten up cars, motorcycles or even bicycles. They are easily recognizable with the long pole and its nets and brushes attached on their vehicle.
Despite our attempts to keep a clean pool, whether spraying chlorine and chemicals, brushing, vacuuming and flushing water, we only were able to reach various shades of green, not really a crystal clear water. At some point, we even turned it a pretty lime green, and were able to get a little tickle on our skin with all these brews. Which eventually helped us conclude for our need of a real filtration system.
So I did my homework and visited about every pool store in the area to get pricing. Obviously what appears simple here is not.
The first issue is technical: the pool is already fitted with a machine space in the back, and some pipes. However, these are not done correctly and some changes are needed before the installation of a filter. Then there is the risk of using a set of pipes that have been buried for ten years. Any kind of problem with them would require digging, and consequently destroying the patio brick floor treatment.
The second is just brazilian: getting a quote is not difficult. Finding a person that is reliable and decently priced a little more tricky. One of the largest and best located store in Lago Sul send me their technical guy to check things out. He was supposed to come back with a construction guy to do some further estimates. By the time they both came, a month had passed (call that the brasilian time zone!) and I had gone to three other stores, sure that they were avoiding me.
In the end, Severino was my man. His suggestion also was wise: a set of hydraulic stairs, which circulate the water to the pump was the least involved option for us, avoiding the possible risk of defect of the existing system, and the resale possibility when we leave (as we are dishing the dinheiros for this).  Despite delays in his schedule and some small details (my garden suffered a bit), the pool finally is clean. What a relief!

Traffic Jam

Again it is raining buckets. And I am bringing the kids to yet another birthday party. It is at least a well thought out one: we drop the kids and pick them up. Caveat: a 45-minutes trip twice. Under the rain (a.k.a. traffic jams). With no parking (the usual). And my ski-boot to carry around with my cane.
When I returned picking my sugared-high kids, I realized how terrible the whole road network is, even outside the plano piloto  (the other name for the city or downtown). Well, I guess I knew that, it was only a confirmation. Everyone is in direction to Sao Sebastian, as it is the only way there from the city. And when it is raining the traffic is worst.

Because civil engineers and urban planners here hate street lights and prefer using rounds-abouts, the circulation is completely backed up for about 2 km. The entire length of the road between two rounds-abouts (the one above JK bridge and the one of the Botanical Garden, near our house, maybe a good 2 km), is backed up car to car. Why? Because of these round-abouts. When a driver reaches a round about, he needs to yield to those already engaged. It means that the flow of traffic trickles car by car, specially at rush hour, cutting completely the flow to a deadly walking speed. This system is only efficient when the traffic flow is light to medium. Otherwise, at high traffic volume, add a red light and the problem is solved. I wish. 
With my cranked up kids back in the car, I felt bless to have an alternate road as an option to return home. I just drove back down towards the city, and took the road along the lake. A few extra km, but probably 30 minutes saved. Those living in Sao Sebastian are not that lucky.

Sunsets are Girls Colors!

At times, we have pretty deep and interesting conversations in our house. My 3 and half boy has been asking me why he is not a girl, and when he will be one. I have tried to explain to him that he is what he is, yet he comes back regularly with the question. When I ask him why, he tells me it is because he wants to wear skirt and dresses. These are pretty, he says.
So after repeated pleas, mommy went out and procured him the simplest, straightest, frilly-less one. He obviously insisted on wearing it to school the next day. I cringed but decided to let him have his own learning experiences. And I also assumed that his little classmates could not really be too mean towards his difference.
Later that week, my boy's teacher took on to help him understand what is socially acceptable, afraid he would eventually get bullied. She conducted activities in class talking about what is appropriate for each sex, in terms of clothing.
I am not yet convinced it was the way to go - ingraining him with a very "sexist" and binary view of what is right or wrong, of what is acceptable - and not embracing his desire to dress as he pleased, not embracing who he is. In any cases, he is no longer talking about dresses and skirts. And the other day, when me and his brother we were talking about the colors of the sunset - yellow, purple, pink - he plainly said: "these are girl colors!"

The Feiria

There are some things that we take for granted. For example, our phones. Aren't they some kind of magic tool, able to tell us where we are, give us indication of where to go, translate, record, memorize, play mind games (or craft), appease the monster next to us, connect us with friends via email, facebook and texts, beyond just the plain phone call?  So when they brake we are in trouble.
Over the last week, my ipad screen broke, Paul's cell phone screen cracked, my own cell phone stop hearing what I said. And my old iphone (a.k.a Emmanuel's own play device) appeared completely dead. So we were in deep trouble.
In China, I was fond of all those geek markets, where I could find free advice and fun technical gizmos for my apple gear. I could bargain my phone repairs and get things done over a bowl of noodle, and it was really not too far from home. These typically were huge, sometimes as much as 4 floors of computer and electronic devices only, plus all sorts of related services.
Here there is the Feiria dos Importados. It used to be known as the Mercado do Paraguay, but maybe because it is flooded with Chinese stuff it was renamed at some point. It is sitting at the extreme south of the Plano Piloto, and from our house, with the proper highway it takes about 20 to 25 min to reach.
The Feiria is a group of small stalls under some gigantic roof. All stalls are grouped in blocs of four back to one another, and a large number of them are grouped in 4 "quadras" or neighborhoods (to take the name from Brasilia city planning). The numbering system of these stall is far from being orderly, A345 sitting next to A215.
And the Feiria here is not only for the computer geek in you. It is a mismatch similar to Beijing's markets: clothing, sport gear, shoes, fishing and pet food, kitchen ware. And repair shops of all kinds, and electronics too. Anything you can imagine in fact. But with no specific order. And with real Brazilian prices.

After unsuccessfully attempting to get my devices serviced in a stall or two, I found him at the end of the maze of stalls, in a tiny booth of probably 2 square meters. I discovered Rogerio. The magician. He is the kind of guy that can fix anything. Anything. The simplest problems - broken screens or stucked buttons - are repaired rather quickly - maybe 20 to 30 minutes. He is also excellent with more complicated things.  My old iphone needed a few fixes that nobody else wanted to do, but upon opening it he just didn't hesitated and explained what needed to be done.

So at first, I took a slip and assumed that the date given would mean work done. Neihg. Nope, Not. The winning combination between "Brazil laidback mode" + "His stall filled with phones waiting to be repaired". When I was back I realized there was at least 3 other men waiting for him to do the work. But I had to rush, and was promised another date. Twice.
In the end, I dragged my kids there and just waited in front of his booth. It was the only way to get the work completed.
In the process, my kids befriended about anyone around Rogerio's stall. I assume that waiting for 4 hours is enough time to meet someone!

By the way, with his little business, the guy is able to support a family of 8 kids...

Where Am I?

Sometimes flashbacks of a previous life assault me. At first glance, not many things would confuse me as whether I am here in Brazil or there in China. Yet at times, the other side of the world winks at me.
For example the other day I walked by a store on the W3 and saw a kitchen tool I needed, so I walked in to buy it: a battery-operated vinaigrette mixer. No comments please. As it was there on the shelf, and I walked in with the intention of spending less than 5 minutes in there, just enough time for the transaction to be validated on my card. Oh! what was I thinking again? A staff had to get a new box downstairs. Then record in one computer what I am buying. And ask me for my CPF and my complete address and all sort of very important details. And then send me over to another cashier, who would find my order in the system, pull it out, and complete the sale and print a few tickets. Then I would need to go back to the first counter, where upon presentation one of these coupons I would retrieve my purchase. Nothing short of 30 minutes.
Although the speed of the cashiers are not comparable, the process was similar in China when making purchases in department stores. Exasperating.

I found a number of other strange similarities with China:
- In a chicken purchased at the grocery store, I found not only its gibbets but also its feet!
- There rice is a staple here. Required by everyone for every meal. Ok, granted, it is not the same type and accompanied by much different fare. But no one would discuss the importance of this grain in these two cultures.
- One other thing that I found striking when comparing those two country-continents was the importance of the "face". We ear often about the Chinese face, and how messages might be conveyed in a rather indirect way, just to avoid de-facing an interlocutor. Surprisingly enough, the Brazilian will also take great lengths to convey their negative message in the less possibly direct way, wanting to preserve their relationships and the person their are dealing with. Like China, Brazil is a country where connections are essential to for many things in life.
- Generally, both Chinese and Brazilian are bad drivers. On this I might post more extensively later.
There has been a number of other "flashes" but for now I will leave you with this.

Playdates

So what can one do every afternoons with two small boys with this weather??
Here I have a lot of impeding factors:
- my smallest is too young to join all these "clubes" where they proposed sport activities - capoeira, football, swimming, gymnastic. When he is four it will be easier.
- the layout of the city, and the area where we live do not provide outdoor playgrounds that are convenient. In Beijing we used to meet friends outside and below our tower, there were always a few playing in the shared structures. Here if there is a playground or two in Lago Sul, they will be empty mostly because nobody wants to drive to a playground located along a main road full of traffic and exposed to the blasting sun. Furthermore most people have nice gardens and prefer staying home. Therefore the social aspect of going to the playground is obsolete.
- and in any cases, this is the rainy season and most times playing outside is not really an option.
- but unlike Beijing, indoor playgrounds are limited in numbers, they are usually in the city (count the km) and in malls. I try to avoid.
- and being between holidays (Christmas and Carnival) there is little options to organize art classes home.
That said, each kids has a good number of friends. So I started inviting them at turns at home, to entertain each others. There was that day when I ended up having three over, and for longer than expected. But in most cases, it is bliss for them (and for me). The kids are playing together quietly, busy building lego worlds, playing doctor, making a mess or just watching a movie. See how happy they are.

New Arrivals

When moving to a new place, we can shed our uncomfortable stranger's coat more quickly with the help of a few new friends.  In fact, finding friends is maybe the most important thing when moving. Much more difficult than finding my way to the supermarket.  I have the impression I already mentioned this before (here here and there).
In any cases, there is this family that has been preparing his relocation for a few months, making a pre-assignement trip with his wife in november, dropping suitcases along the way, finding a house, choosing a school, getting a visual on what it is to live here. In other words, this family is arriving here much more prepared than us - not only mentally, but logistically and linguistically. I am envious. Furthermore, a couple weeks ago, on their first week, a greeting crew" was generously organized by a colleague's spouse, emailing a bunch of us to meet the newcomer.  How wonderful. It touched me again, thinking how much such small gathering can make a immense difference in the adjustment process.
So in the matter of one morning, this lovely new lady got to meet a bunch of other lovely ladies, and get a full briefing on the situation here. All this while our kids met each other and screamed their head off played. And this while we binged on coffee and cakes.
Our conversations quickly geared from light to introspective, from serious to desperate: "what do you do? what kind of work can be found here? what kind of work permit can we get?" Answers are candid, desperate or frustrated. But one of us summed it all: either make a baby, work from home or go golfing/horse ridding/kyte surfing.
A few weeks later, it is all business as usual, with the integration process running its course: the newcomer  invites us all to celebrate her son's birthday. Cake, pool, furniture breaking, kids screaming wildly. All back to normal, no need anymore to talk about what we expat wives cannot do here.
Have a bit more cake, dear.