The Expat Experience

This American Life this week features Americans in China. It brings back a lot of memories about the expat experience, particularly that of toeing the line between being informed and judgmental. I admit, I'm a little ashamed of the things I wrote about Korean culture when I first started this blog. I leave them all up because I think, more than anything, this is my (public) diary of my experience. I wrote those things because I was frustrated, far from home, and naively thought that I understood Korea.

Two things in the podcast really stuck with me. One was an expat who wisely said (and I'm paraphrasing here) that you will continuously discover things that shock and offend your western sensibilities, but you can't "dwell in the land of indignation." The other was some writers poking fun of expat blogs, all of which are "arch and condescending." This is true. It's very difficult, maybe impossible, to avoid being condescending as an American living in Korea. There are so many things--abundant plastic surgery and an obsession with appearance, rampant sexism, glorification of conformity--that are jarring to us. Either we rage against them, as I often did, or accept that they're the product of a different set of values, an otherness. And once we start defining people as "others", we're toeing a delicate line, with racism and ignorance on the other side.

So how does one avoid dwelling in the land of indignation and writing an entire culture off as inscrutable? I don't know.

Foreigners add value to every society. The perspectives they provide contain truth, though perhaps truth shrouded in ignorance and condescension. It was a very interesting role to play for awhile, and I find myself missing it sometimes. Don't get me wrong, we're still foreigners of sorts. I guess I have never lived anywhere where I felt like I really belonged. I could certainly poke holes in Hawaiian culture (I never will, the wounds are far too raw) or North Carolinian culture, but there is nothing quite as alien to me as Korean culture. It really was quite a ride.

Memorial Day Weekend

Well, the weekend has been packed with adventures and misadventures. On Saturday, X and I went to the leeward side in search of sunshine. Seriously, it was in the 70's and windy over here! We biked through Kapiolani Park and headed toward the beach, where X promptly crashed. In true three-year-old fashion, he urged me onwards, let me set up our towels and change his clothes, then said he wanted to go home. In true "asshole parent" fashion (thanks, La!), I told him to lie down on the towel and went swimming.

Riding his bike

Looking at ducks

On the beach

On Sunday, we saw the Maunawili Demonstration Trail. Despite the snore-inducing name, it was quite nice. We only hiked a mile in, then turned around and came home. You don't have to make a whole lot of effort to get a nice view, which works for X and out-of-shape Bobby.

There was a moment when, in a shady...well, I don't know what you call it. The Koolaus ripple, so you sometimes hike in what looks like the folds of a blanket. Anyways, we were in this shady ripple, it was chilly, and X started having a conversation with someone. There were a lot of the prayer stones that I would see in Korea around. I was very creeped out, as we haoles have some bad history with the native Hawaiians, but X told us that "sir is happy" so I guess it was all good.

Setting out

Nice view

in front of a water tower

Overlook

Helping X get down the stairs

He's 3, in case you were wondering

Sunday evening, an hour after Bobby left for work, I rapidly realized that I was coming down with this bug that X had. Excellent timing, as I had to wrangle X for the next 24 hours unaided. I caught him sticking his hand in the toilet and licking it, which may explain why he's been getting sick so much recently. Kids are germ factories and should be hermetically sealed.

Happy Memorial Day!

Everyday Superheroes

Note: A little background: in the Marine Corps, the library is in the same department as the Education, Transition, and Personal Finance departments. I witnessed this amazing struggle to rescue this marine from his own mistakes a few months ago and was inspired to write this. I have since seen more and rewritten this countless times. It's time to let it go into the ether (before this note becomes longer than the piece itself).

To often, people say they support the military when in fact they extort them, use them as a political tool, or provide no support aside from that empty phrase.

I am continuously humbled by the lengths my coworkers will go to to help our men and women in uniform.

I have witnessed frenzied, last ditch efforts to back marines out of loans that are unfair and for-profit schools that are even more unfair. Efforts, might I add, that only try to save these marines from the bad decisions they make despite countless attempts by my coworkers to educate them on the proper ways to find work, education, or financial stability.

They are all intelligent and educated and driven by a desire to make life a little easier for our uniformed service members. They work long hours. They make peanuts.

Too often, federal employees are written off as overpaid bureaucrats who waste government money. There are certainly those folks, too. But what I see around me are true believers. No one thanks them for their service. And yet, here they are, day after day, refusing to give up.

Mornings

Why do small children have to get up with the sun? We have done everything we can think of to block X's knowledge that the sun is rising. We have blackout curtains over the window and white noise to drown out the bird chorus. Nonetheless, this morning he was knocking on our door at 5:45. Often when he gets up too early we will bring him into bed with the ipad to collect a few more winks. Alas, it was not meant to be today. He found a youtube video of fire trucks driving around with lights and sirens on and played it over and over at high volume.

Work is tough. I am 95% burned out, commuting past beautiful seascapes to work long hours. Sigh. Summer reading hasn't even started yet! This weekend, I am NOT going to the office and we will be going to the beach. Damnit.

Ben Parker Elementary, where we make our weekly farmer's market run.

This kid is fearless. This is a 30 foot slide.

Meeting characters at the Hawaii Book and Music Festival.

Rolling down the hill with the kids.

Honolulu Zoo

X has been going through this frustrating phase in which he breaks all of the rules and refuses to do things we ask him to do. He spends a lot of time being punished. With that in mind, we were prepared for an ill fated trip to the zoo. Though it did end with me dragging him out of Keiki Zoo while he screamed, there were some fun moments.

He's "taking a picture" of the baboon

This peacock is plotting to steal X's cookie

Bobby chasing the peacock down to steal the cookie back

In the fish tank

Revisiting The Sandman

We had a lovely time on the mainland. It was wonderful to see everyone and the weather was fantastic. North Carolina was at its finest.

Then we came home, and the house was plunged into chaos. Our beloved daycare auntie gave us her two month's notice. Searching for childcare is much like it was when we moved here: every place we can afford is full. We hold out hope that we'll find something acceptable over the next two months. In the meantime, we're touring preschools we can't afford. We fall into the system's cracks--too much income to qualify for financial aid, too little income to actually pay tuition. It's a lousy feeling, not being able to afford preschool for my son. It's the first childhood necessity that we cannot give him.

Then, X turns into a raging asshole. He won't do anything I ask him to do. He throws at least one tantrum a day, normally in a crowded and visible place. Every day I wonder who body snatched my sweet boy.

Everyone has something they turn to when things get stressful. Some people like religion. Some like substances. I'm revisiting Neil Gaiman's Sandman series, which, if I'm being honest, is probably my favorite book(s). I won't admit that to just anyone. I have enjoyed books with more literary merit. Dream of the endless, however, is who I like to spend my time with when I want to get lost in a story and think deep thoughts about life.

Another Year

Note: I pulled this one out of the bin and dusted it off. I wrote it months ago but never published it.

I love Christmas. I'm not a big fan of New Year's. Perhaps this is because I've never been much for big parties, and my husband even less so. We like to watch TV together and go to bed early. We were prepared for the war zone this year, so stayed up to hear the fireworks even though we couldn't see a single one from our condo.

Perhaps the New Year reminds me that life is fleeting, and that my son is growing. Each year, I find that I love the new version of him as much as, if not more than, the previous one. Nonetheless, he's marching through his magical early childhood years far too quickly. Right now, we can meet his meager needs easily. He is a happy child.

Small children are delightful. X calls everyone on the playground "fwiends", and for the most part, they behave accordingly. X can walk in on other kids' games and be included, despite looking pretty different from his peers. They haven't developed that clan mentality that makes them exclude people. In my recollection, that happens around age 10.

I'm afraid for when X enters these miserable years. I was very unpopular in school. I'm very happy to be the person I am today, a person who was forged in the crucible of middle school. But I almost didn't make it. I was lucky in that I grew up at a time before cyberbullying, when I could at least be free from torment in my own room after school. X is not so lucky.

He's an extrovert, and will hopefully have an easier time of it in school than I did. I want that for him, but I don't want it to be too easy. I don't want him to be in the "in" crowd, tormenting some other poor soul. Most of the kindred spirits I know today were ostracized at one point or another during grade school.

Like most parents, I want my child to be happy more than anything. As a close second, I want him to make the world a better place, not a worse one. I want him to fight on the side of light, facing others with tolerance and understanding. I am not convinced that both of these things are possible in middle school, in which case I choose tolerance and understanding and pray that he makes it through.

I wish he could be small forever.