Cold and Canadian

My friend in Austria texted me this afternoon asking me what I was doing. At that particular moment I was wandering around Home Depot, Starbucks in hand in my most comfortable well-worn pair of jeans and a t-shirt. In Kelowna.

The question made me give pause. I would never wander around my Vorarlberg home like that. First thing to note was that I was dressed inappropriately for the weather. But being Canadian, we often don’t bother with such formalities. We can usually be found dashing from our vehicle to whatever our destination happened to be in clothing that is anything but warm. When I first arrived back in Kelowna I was wandering around with my big scarf, warm jacket and a hat close at hand. Its now 10 days later and I have already resumed my Canadian ways. Its ironic really, the country most noted for its harsh climate and we seem committed to defying the reality of it all.

I must admit however, even though I am not a fan of the deep cold winters – I feel home in them. Just yesterday when the chairlift I was on came to a screeching halt we had a few moments to enjoy the fierce wind that blew the snow so hard it felt like little pin pricks on any exposed skin. As I pulled my neck warner over my face and shared comments of displeasure with my lift mates I couldn’t help but smile. This is the winter I know, not just the weather itself, but the common bond fellow Canadians share over it. We are too cold, too hot, and too humid – we are a country of extremes and we like it – even though we would never admit it.

That same day I skied into the resort village. A large inflated beaver anchored in the snow was inviting people to come celebrate. Only in Canada would we have a vicious, bucktooth reclusive animal as our countries mascot. The sight of the massive beaver made me laugh and in some odd way also feel proud. Generally speaking, Canadians don't take themselves too seriously.

I have indeed adapted to my European life. But one thing I did realize in that Home Depot moment – you can take the girl of out of Canada, but you cannot take the Canadian out of the girl…

Another 13 Things I Have Learned Living in Austria

1. Most Austrians think they are very similar to Canadians. I think perhaps after a spin on the 401 or attending a Canuck playoff game will cure them of that sentiment.

2. Formality rules. This is a bit of a mind bender for me being a west coast Canadian. I have had to re-evaluate how to write an email. Frau Antle.

3. Ceilings are made of cement. Particularly delightful when drilling holes for light fixtures.

4. Smoke detectors are no big deal here. See above.

5. Austrians don’t care about rhythm when they dance. It’s all about having fun – rhythm just just gets in the way of that. (Okay, that’s not completely true. I was just surprised by those normally reserved tearing it up on the floor. Who knew?)

6. Duck, lamb, rabbit, deer – it will be on the menu.

7. You don’t wait for things in the pharmacy. It’s instantaneous. No four hour prescription waits here.

8. Big brother is watching. I am still getting used to cameras being everywhere.

9. When travelling elsewhere and I tell people I work in Austria they think “Australia.” Seriously.

10. Binders. We don’t do folders and filing cabinets here. It’s all done in binders. I have yet to embrace the concept.

11. People are kind. I like that about living here.

12. Bicycles. It’s not unusual for someone to have three. One used for running errands. Another for street biking and then another for mountain biking.

13. Don’t order a highball.

It's Time

A dear friend once suggested that I not speak English with an accent when I am speaking with native German speaking friends.

It’s a totally cheesy thing to do but I cannot help it. As hard as I try not to, I begin structuring my sentences like an English as a second language speaker. And then I throw in an accent on top.

“Now it sounds like you speak poor English as well,” said my friend.

I can’t win.

The other day while out for lunch I was asked something in German. “Ja Ja” I replied. It’s what I say to nearly everything. As my understanding of German continues to grow so does the uncertainty of speaking it – “ja ja” works almost always.

I have a new respect for those who speak a second language with which they are not 100% comfortable. They know absolutely that they will make mistakes and that they could very possibly look silly. It takes a level of bravery that I know I struggle with in some situations. But I know I have to go there if want to learn.

Overall the patience of people is astounding. No matter if I am in Austria or elsewhere. I have to admit that although I do not venture out of my comfort zone as often as I should, when I do, I am inspired by the way people respond. Another experience for which I am grateful.

I also understand now the comfort people can find in commiserating with a stranger in their familiar language. It is a momentary comfort.

My “ja ja” was not completely accepted at lunch the other day. As my time continues here in Austria so does the impatience with my limited language skills. They want to not hear my accented English, but rather me bumble my way through their language. I understand that too. Its time

A Good Life

I made the mad dash to grocery store – just in time. I quickly found my new favourite Austrian wine to have with dinner. The cloth bag for my groceries was tucked under my arm. Once at the checkout I was able to answer all the questions asked of me – in German. When I walked in the door I noticed that the big bouquet of white roses I had bought myself had filled my flat with a beautifully fragrant air.

Earlier today I had a wonderful exchange with my son back home. Then a few texts with a special friend reminded me that I am indeed loved.

As I make dinner tonight I can’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude. I have learned so much since moving Austria. Particularly about myself. My personal idealism of how to be a good mother has been challenged. I have had to count on the kindness of others to help me make my way at times, and without that, my days would have been much more empty and difficult. I know now the tremendous gratification that can result from knowing how to answer someone in an unfamiliar language, if only a handful of times. I have learned to ask for help.

I know that the small triumphs and beautiful moments that made up my day today were the result of the many amazing people that have entered my life. Whether it’s my son who makes me feel like the world’s best mom even though I am an ocean away, or the friend up the street that feeds me when I have not the time, or the colleague who helps me book a hair appointment when I am too shy to make the phone attempt –I am lucky. It’s the small moments that make up a life, and because of the support of everyone in my life, I can enjoy and savour them.

I have a good life. Thanks for being in it.

You Don't Need to Understand

“But what about your son,” asks nearly everyone.

That is a loaded question, and not an easy one to hear. Its guilt inducing and does not help ease the pang I already feel for my decision.

But it wasn’t entirely my decision. This was a question that I put forth to my friends, family and most importantly my son. Of everyone, it was my son who told me to do what I wanted. It was not easy for him to say this, but I knew he wanted me to be happy, just as I did, and do, him.

I remember when as a “tween” he went through what we affectionately refer to as the “orange” phase. What ever he could wear that was orange he would. So many times I had to bite my tongue as he proudly came to me with his carefully selected attire. For in his effort was his independence. He knew that he was dressed differently from the other kids, but he dressed only to please himself – no one else. The orange phase was followed by many others, and while he exercised his creativity I watched how free he was in spirit. He always looked great, but what was most important is that he constantly took a chance and tried new things. Sometimes it didn’t work but sometimes it did. Through it all he was happy, and soon learned to not be afraid to make a decision, even an unpopular one with his peers – and at times, me.

Like my son, I too went through my phases. There was the tofu, garlic and juicing one. I remember the year I bought the most ridiculous sun gear known to mankind. To make life even more interesting, I published a regular column that transcribed the humour and drama of our everyday life. It was read by his teachers, some of his friends and parents. Not once did he ask me not to write something.

I won’t lie, there were moments that it took everything for me not to ask my son to change, and I know he took a few taunts over my columns, but at the end of the day he was as proud of me as I was him. We both knew that we were doing what we needed to do.

We’ve both learned that there is more to life when you colour outside of the lines. And we also know that geography doesn’t make a bond stronger; it simply makes it more convenient.

I guess where I am going with this is that no one else needs to understand my reasoning – just as long as we do.

“Don’t be afraid to take that big step”

Day 5

“Don’t be afraid to take that big step” read my after dinner fortune cookie. It made me smile, because truly what could I do next? I was alone, and I had left everything familiar behind just five days ago.

Intuitively I’ve always known that life would change for me this year. And, if I was honest, I would have to say that I did not think it would have been work that forced the change. But it is what it is, and here I am.

There is something a bit exotic about being a Canadian here in Austria. I don’t know why. Last night when I shared that I was from Canada’s western wine region with a local proprietor, he declared that the table I was seated at was forever mine. Or maybe I said something wonderfully profound in my very broken German. Who knows? It doesn’t matter. Because less than a week in I have made friends, have a walking companion and managed to unpack a year’s worth of clothing in one teeny tiny hotel room closet.

Somehow I thought moving would be a lot like traveling, which I had done a bit of over the past year – but it is not. There is no end in sight. Whether I am ready or not, my life is here now. Which is why I think I will head on down to the friendly gang that called out “abend” in the hotel lounge and see what my broken German might lead me to discover tonight.

In many ways that fortune cookie had it bang on. Moving was the easy part. Its the little things that really push me out of my comfort zone and make me feel empowered.