It’s not beginning to look a lot like Christmas, and since this is December 24, it obviously never will. A few decorations here, some Christmas Eve and Christmas morning services there, an occasional Christmas song on the radio there. Note that I don’t say carol—most of the songs are modern, including last year’s “Last Christmas.” Perhaps the oldest I heard today was Jester Hairston’s “Mary’s Boy Child.” Christmas concerts tend to be all pop stars, not necessarily singing Christmas music. That’s why Emily’s been streaming the all-Christmas-carol station from Portland, and tonight Rick’s playing trumpet along with the carols in his computer’s library.

It’s not that New Zealanders don’t start in plenty of time. When we arrived in October, we were chagrined to see Christmas ornaments and wrap already for sale. We needn’t have worried. You can walk into half the stores in town and not know it’s close to the holiday. A columnist for a big-city paper, who immigrated from Ireland less than a year ago, said he wasn’t homesick until Christmas season. He longs for commercial excess (and, having spent a week in early December in the Emerald Isle, I can assure you that Irish commercial excess can’t hold a candle to the American version). On Christmas, he plans to draw the curtains at 3 pm and sit in the dark watching Christmas movies, rather than going to the beach like the New Zealanders do, where there are living Christmas trees, Pohutukawa (Metrosideros excelsa), green, white and red at just the right time:

 Even Christmas Eve isn’t such a big deal. In Portland, most of the stores are closed by 6 pm, and when I worked in an office downtown even my Jewish colleagues left by 3 pm or so, because clearly no business was going to be done the rest of the day. But here, business seems to go on as usual, although the churches have services in the evening. Probably it’s because Boxing Day, the 26th, is also a holiday—so this year everyone gets a day off on Monday because the 26th is a Saturday.

There’s no need here for Turn Off the Christmas Machine—it never gets turned on, probably because Christmas is the beginning of summer, so the holiday takes on a quite different meaning and celebration. Yes, people still make ham or turkey dinners—but might have a barbecue instead.

We spent the past week on the South Island, and I thought that maybe the bigger city of Christchurch would be more Christmassy. No such luck. Sure, there were a few decorations around, but most of the songs I heard in stores were either current or oldies pop; I only heard Christmas music in the local department store.

I shopped a little the afternoon of the 23d, but had dropped by 4:30. On a whim, I wandered over to the cathedral to see if there was a service either that evening or this morning before we had to leave for the airport. No such luck—but a choir was rehearsing, so I joined several dozen others who were enjoying the music. A woman in blouse, skirt, and dress shoes, apparently pinch-hitting, mopped the transept, in front of the two large, lovely bouquets of white lilies placed before the lectern and the pulpit.

 The choir was small and old-fashioned—a dozen men, a dozen boys, all in cassocks, singing in Latin. The boys, half a dozen in the front row on each side, looked as if they’d simply been gathered up at a local playground. The one on the outside on the left was wearing black flipflops, no doubt as a sign of respect; lots of New Zealanders wander around barefoot (even in grocery stores and hospitals, but that’s another story). The third boy in that row looked as if he had come and would leave by skateboard, and he cheerily lip-synched the soloist, two spots farther down. The soloist was slight, sandy-haired, and shy-looking, but had the requisite high, pure voice (why is it that pre-pubertal boys can have such angelic voices?). When he wasn’t singing, he tended to fiddle with the candlestick in front of him.

The music wasn’t familiar, and I caught only a few of the words (hodie, dominus), but the loveliness of the music—the organ, the intertwined voices—was enough to keep me there, and give me the most Christmas spirit I’ve had all month. Truly, sweet singing in the choir.

Merry Christmas to all our readers out there!!!

Christmas has to be one of the best times of the year.  Christmas is a time we try to celebrate with family and friends.  But because of this, it’s also one of the hardest times for many teachers living aboard.  Korea is a long way from home for most of you and it can be lonely, however there are many things you can do to make this Christmas a memorable one for you:

1) Number one, of course, is to spend Christmas with your new friends in Korea.  Many people are having Christmas parties and its great to get involved in these.

2) You can help out at your closest orphanage, church, or other organisation aimed at helping other people in need.  You will feel great once you put a smile on their faces and the whole community will make you feel like home.

3) Call your family on Skype.  You can use video Skype to see and speak to your friends and family while they are altogether.  My family are not on Skype, so I have just paid for a Skype monthly subscription.  For around 14,000 won per month you can use your Skype to call any landline phone around the world – this gives you unlimited minutes and there’s no contract, so you can cancel this at any time.  For a little more, you can also call mobile phones around the world.  You can pay with credit card or Paypal – if you can’t use any of these, why not instead get your parents to set it up and pay for an account under your name.

4) Go to one of the many Christmas shows and festivals around Korea.

5) Or you could spend Christmas sitting on a hot, beautiful beach in Thailand.

6) Read Expacked… well, maybe not

Obviously this is only a couple of suggestions, so there are plenty of things you can do to make Christmas day a special day for you.  Whatever you do, make it a good one!

Here’s the stories making the news this week:

• Winter Festivals Planned for Main Plazas in Capital
• GEPIK News: Updated 2010 Contracts and a New Bimonthly Newsletter
• ATEK Press Release: Second Teachers Union Formed
• South Korea Stretches Standards for Success
• Schools Able to Cut Some Mandatory Subjects from 2011
• Emphasis on English Listening Misplaced
• E-Learning Initiative Faces Derailment
• Students Switching Schools
• Jokes: (1) Skype Christmas (2) A Bad Day at the Office (3) Made in Korea

Feel free to comment on any of the stories and make use of the easy sharing options available – in just a few quick clicks you can share any of these stories to all your teaching mates in Korea.

I hope you enjoy the read and, of course, have a good laugh at this week’s jokes.

Merry Christmas!

Cheers,

Ken

If you haven’t already, you can always subscribe directly to receive the full weekly newsletter through email or RSS feed.  Click on one of the options below to subscribe:

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Please find attached a press release detailing the recent formation of the second teachers union here in Korea, a development that effects both foreign and Korea nationals.
More information is available upon request.
Best,
Dann Gaymer

Dann Gaymer, 010-2335-4999
Communications Director, The Association for Teachers of English in Korea (ATEK)
media@atek.or.kr, http://atek.or.kr

The last few days have set a wonderful tone to what promises to be a memorable holiday season, in spite of the weather-related train and plane frustrations.  It all started Friday evening, when an Italian student of mine asked me to join him and his friends on an excursion to a Jazz concert…

Act I: The Italian Lesson

Technically, there were two Americans, one French woman, and five Italians present, but since the latter outnumber the former two, we’re giving them Act I.  In any case, it was truly a lesson in the differences between French, Italian and American ways of life.

First, tempo.  Tempo when walking, that is. Americans, I find, tend to be the speediest bipeds I’ve met, especially those from NYC. But even Virginian walkers will lap a Frenchman every so often.  Parisians come second in the speed-walking contest and Italians…well, they’re so leisurely in their pace the tortoise lapped them not once, but thrice.

Second, expatriates. I asked one of the Italians his thoughts on living in Paris, versus his time in Italy. One thing he noted, that many texts on French culture will support, is that the French aren’t exactly friendly.  It takes a while to squeeze yourself into a French friend-circle, and even then, things like swinging by the Jones’ on your way home aren’t done: you really should call and schedule that visit.

Third, jazz! The band was apparently part Italian, and the concert was in the 10th (right around the corner from the Indian district) and we ate Turkish food right before, so it was a right multi-cultural experience. The guitar player looked like Bret (from Flight of the Conchords) and the other American and I couldn’t help but snicker every time we caught a glimpse of his shaggy hair. The music itself was smooth, enjoyable, a bit of flute, some sax, percussion, and a mellow bass.

We ended the night with a stop at Rue Mouffetard, for some mulled wine and late night conversation at La Contrescarpe, whose cozy decor didn’t quite match the thumping techno music played over the speakers.

Act II: The French Lesson

On Saturday I took some time to visit another museum, le Petit Palais, which was built for the 1900 world fair and is the little sibling of the better-known Grand Palais. The latter gets to host big events like the Paris Fashion Week.  The former houses a small but nice collection of paintings, sculpture and decorative arts, has impressive architecture itself, and is free, to everyone.

After wandering through the collection for an hour or so, I took some time to sketch (as I promised I would try and do more often).

Detail from the entry dome at the Petit Palais.

View of its famous spiral stair from below.

That evening, I went to see a movie with one of my French students, in French.  I’d been complaining about how little French I actually spoke, since most of my courses were English courses and my friends were all Americans…and that I wanted to go see a French film but was worried I wouldn’t understand a thing! So she suggested we go together and discuss the movie over a drink, which is exactly what we did.  After a bit of window shopping along the Champs-Elysées  (window shopping because I’m not sure I can afford to spend €200, also known as 1/4 my paycheck, on a 3″x4″ LV wallet), I met her at the UGC Charles V. We then wandered through the Christmas markets, grabbed a cup of vin chaud (to keep both our insides and our shivering fingers warm), and caught a glimpse of the light show at the Eiffel tower.

The film is about a young boy, Oscar, who has terminal cancer. The "dame rose" is the only woman with whom he agrees to speak during his last week. Yes, it's a sad movie. Yes, I teared up (more than once). And yes, I understood most of it, even without subtitles (though when they spoke really fast, it was from visual clues, and a slowed-down replay in my own mind).

Act III: The American Lesson

Yesterday, a Tech classmate of mine who’s doing the same program as I am, but teaching near Bordeaux, came up to Paris. She had a flight back to the US this morning, so last evening the two of us met up with another American friend of hers, wandered around the Latin Quarter, did some window shopping, and had a generally good time comparing notes on living in France, being American (i.e. not French) and general sillyness. I had my first fondue in France, both cheese and meat, and my first raclette, and chased that down with a delicious crêpe nutella banane and a mug of caramel tea.  We dropped my friend back at her hotel which was a bit closer to the airport – and that meant taking the RER B. Like usual, there were issues with the train, we had a random train-change because of technical errors, but made it to the hotel and back just fine.

Encore: The French Lesson, Reprised.

This afternoon I had an incredible pasta lunch at Pizza Positano, near Odéon, with a French girl I know from studying at Fontainebleau.  We then wandered around the Marais, catching up on our adventures and ducking into an architectural exhibition or two, and making me faire travailler (work on) my French.  It turned out to be a 4-hour French-only conversation, the most French I’ve spoken in one-go since getting here.  I was pretty tired by the end of it all.

As a side note, we were tempted by a free taster at Starbucks, and wound up going in and ordering the real thing – whoever comes up with their lattes is an incredible genius: drinking a noisette caramel (hazelnut caramel) latte is getting pretty close to heaven.

Merry Christmas to all our existing and future clients

We also wish to say Happy New year to all our clients and wish them well in all their efforts in the New Year.

It has been another great year for ABP World Group Ltd. because of our clients and we’re hoping for many more.

We are always available via our 24h emergency phone. for more information, please visit our website www.abpworld.com

Skype: abpworld

MSN : abpworld@hotmail.com

My daughter believed in Santa (and the tooth fairy) until she was ten.  I found that in most expat families that have “Santa,” all the expat kids continue to believe in him until much older ages than the kids back home.  I have hardly heard of anyone whose children stopped believing in Santa before the ages of eight, or even nine.

The problem that I had was my daughter believed me about Santa because I had alwaysbeen  honest with her about everything else.  So when she finally found out that Santa wasn’t real because some of her expat friends (who were two years younger) told her, and then their mother confirmed it, she came to me REALLY SERIOUSLY demanding to know if Santa was real.

I finally admitted the truth, that I was Santa.  This led to her asking if the Tooth Fairy was real, so I had to admit I was the Tooth Fairy as well.  SHE CRIED FOR HOURS.  Both Santa and the Tooth Fairy had died in one day.

Yes, she did get over it, but she was really hurt, and sad!  These were the only things I had ever lied to her about, and her trust in me was shaken.  But within a few days, she did recover, and admitted I’d done a really good job of being both Santa and the Tooth Fairy (from whom she got gifts under her pillow, as well as money).

So, how did this situation come about, of expat children believing so long?

My daughter went to a Moroccan school for many years, filled with only Muslims.  Even at many American or British schools overseas, in many locales, the majority of the students are not foreigners, but country-nationals.  So to have Santa come at all, elaborate lies have to be constructed, and parents have to be very good at telling them.

These lies include how Santa can arrive when there is no chimney in the house (we said he slid under the crack in the door, where there was no threshhold); or how Santa can arrive for them, but not for any other children in the culture (we said he didn’t come to the Muslim children because they didn’t “believe” in him).  When I was a teacher, and Muslim children said they didn’t believe Santa came to our house, I always answered, “Well, I don’t know what happens in your house, but this is what happens in our house.”  In our house, my husband and I each got a gift from Santa, as well.

Since all the kids claiming Santa is not real come mostly from other religions, while  the other expat kids from “back home” are also mostly claiming that Santa is real, the fiction can be maintained much longer.  I recall finding out the truth about Santa when I was six, in first grade, having heard it from so many older kids, of course.  My mother tried to maintain the fiction but I never believed after that.

What experiences have other expats had with Santa?  How long have your children believed?

Note: This post cross-posted from my self-hosted blog.

One of the questions I get asked a lot is what sort of things a person can do to make it easier to travel or lead a nomadic lifestyle. My answer is usually that the biggest change you can make is in the way you think about your personal belongings. To be a nomad, you must think like a nomad. If you look at virtually any nomadic culture, you will see that they do not generally have much. When you have to be able to carry your life around on a cart/camel/caravan, you learn to really pare down what you “need” in life. I have a separate post coming soon about how I went from having 3 truckloads of belongings to 4 plastic bins of them, but I felt I should write about some of the bigger things that can really tie you down, that you should consider getting rid of if you are interested in leading a more nomadic lifestyle. These are not easy, and they’re all things that society claims that we “need” in order to have a “good” life, so be prepared to do some reevaluating of your own values. Anyway, here you go:

• Vehicles. Admittedly, in most places in America, vehicles are a necessity if you want to be able to have a job/buy food/go anywhere. My response to that is this: avoid those places. There are plenty of places in the US that have good public transportation systems that aren’t astronomically expensive to live in like NYC, and you should be able to find somewhere that you can live without needing to own a vehicle. The internet has made it easier than ever to be car-less; with services like Zip Car, you can now get a car on-demand if you want to head out on a weekend road trip. Why to lose it: Between vehicle payments, insurance, maintenance, and property taxes, vehicles are expensive! Not only that, but once you have one and have invested so much money in it, you’re likely to be loathe to get rid of it. If you have a vehicle and want to spend an extended amount of time abroad, you will have to either find someone to look after it for you or you will have to sell it (most likely at a loss). What to do instead: Live in a city with at least moderately decent public transportation (a good bus system will do). Invest in a Zip Car membership and a bike. If you absolutely must have a vehicle, look into getting a scooter or a small (250cc or below) motorcycle. They don’t take up much space, are often eligible for free parking, are far cheaper than a car to both purchase and maintain, they get great gas mileage (even a larger motorcycle like our 750cc Ural gets around 30mpg, and a small bike or scooter may get over 100mpg), and they maintain their value much more than cars and are easier to sell. Being “Car Free” does still cost you some money (a bike, a zip car membership, taxis, etc), but in the end it is far less than what a car would cost, and if you decide to move abroad, you don’t have to worry about having something expensive and complex to sell. In not buying a car/vehicle, you’re effectively buying your freedom.

• A House. One of the major causes of the current recession is the havoc that has been wreaked by a largely-unregulated lending industry, with particular blame on mortgage lenders. Americans place a tremendous amount of self-worth on someday owning a nice house with a white picket fence and a swing in the front yard. This is really just social conditioning. People in most of the rest of the world do not feel the same drive to own their own housing that Americans do. Even in Europe, it is not unusual (or stigmatized) for families to rent their housing well into their 40s, and in places like Asia, many folks never own their own place. Why to lose it: Housing is one of the main assets that ties a person to a particular place. Not only are houses expensive (maintenance, fees, taxes, mortgage), but they also have a sort of magnetism that ties their inhabitants to them. Once you are settled in one place and are financially and emotionally committed to it, you are less likely to want to change your circumstances. What to do instead: Apartments are great in that you are only committed to them for a limited period of time, and even if you need to break that contract, the cost is comparatively small. Thanks to places like Craigslist, it is no longer difficult to find a wide variety of rooms, apartments or even houses to rent, and many of them can be surprisingly flexible about lease durations. If you want to be really hardcore and plan on spending most of your time on the move, rent an indoor, climate-controlled storage facility (about $50/month) for the belongings you aren’t taking with you but you really want to keep (bedding, off-season clothes, etc) and rely on the kindness of friends, family, and couchsurfers. Remember, home is where the heart is.

• Debt/Credit Cards. One need only look at the wonderful blog Man VS. Debt to see what you can do when you don’t have debt hanging over your head. For many, this will be the most difficult to get rid of, but it is also the item likely to cause the most profound change. Society has managed to convince us that we need credit cards because we need to buy things we can’t afford in order to keep up with the Jones. Why to lose it: If you don’t have debt payments to make, you only need to make enough money to survive, and that opens up a lot of options. Also, the only person who benefits from debt is the credit card companies. Period. What to do instead: Stop caring about having stuff. Some people advise you to think about whether or not most people in the rest of the world do without your purchase, but that’s a little too detached for me. Instead, before you buy something, think about what you will do with it if you go abroad. If it’s going to have to go into storage, think long and hard before you purchase it. Also, don’t buy for the future; if it’s not something you are going to use now, you don’t really know if you need it, right? (Exceptions are off-season clothing that is on sale, etc.) If you have a lot of student loans hanging over your head, look into programs abroad that will make payments for you while you are abroad – the Peace Corps is excellent about this – or find work while you’re overseas. Another option is to sell your belongings, if you have them. It’s stuff you’d probably have to put into storage anyway, so why not make some money off it instead?

• Pets. I know that having fido or fluffy gives you something to look forward to at the end of the day, but pets are pretty much a no-go for nomads unless you have someone who stays back home to take care of them. Believe me, I love animals – I’m a professional dog walker and I have had around 30 pets over the course of my life – but I also am acutely aware of the limitations they can place on your mobility. Why to lose it: Unless you want to put your animal through the emotional trauma of being pawned off on your friends or relatives for extended periods of time, having a pet is not a good move for a frequent traveler, nor healthy for the animal. What to do instead: Buy a plant (when pawned off on a friend, these become gifts, rather than burdens). Become friends with the dogs at your local dog park. Offer to pet sit for people. Spend more time outside your home.

• Contracts. In particular I am thinking of things like work-duration contracts (you agree to work for them for 1 year, etc) and things like cell phone contracts. Contracts are the ultimate representation of restriction, but they hide this by often offering benefits (a guaranteed job, a cheaper phone, etc). Why to lose it: By their very nature, contracts punish you for making your own decisions. Want to leave your job early and work somewhere else? Well, you’ve broken your contract and now lost a reference. Want to get a different cell phone carrier before yours sucks? It’s going to really cost you. Contracts claim to help you, but in reality, there are generally very few benefits to signing anything that restricts your free will. What do to instead: Find a job that does not require you to work for them and only them for a specified duration, or alternatively, offer to work for a reduced rate in exchange for not being bound to a piece of paper. For things like services, find out if there is a “pay as you go” option as can often be found with cell phones.

As you can see, by choosing not to have these things, you are also choosing to reject large portions of the status quo. You know what? That’s okay. Not everyone needs a house, car, spouse, two kids, desk job, and a golden retriever. If the white picket fence isn’t your dream, then why bother picking up all the trappings? Live your own vision, not someone else’s. To do any less is to shortchange yourself at life. Do you want that? I doubt it.

In the interests of disclosure, here’s how I stack up against my own advice:

• Vehicle: None, though I am on the title of our Ural sidecar motorcycle. I am supremely lucky in that I am able to use Marc’s car without having it be a ball and chain around my own leg. If I were not able to use Marc’s car, I would put more effort into getting our Ural running daily, or I would find a job that I could use public transportation to get to.
• Housing: Marc and I live in an apartment now, but prior to this and prior to Korea, I lived for a year via the storage unit/couch method I described above. I had minimal costs, I was able to visit people and places I had never seen before, and I got to know many of my friends far better than I had known them previously. In an entire year, there were only a couple nights that I had to actually sleep in my truck, and it wasn’t the end of the world.
• Debt: This is the #1 issue I still struggle with. It took me years to finally learn that I didn’t need more stuff, and thankfully this lesson has largely stuck. I still have a reasonable amount of credit card debt to pay off, but it was largely accrued while I did not have a job. But, debt is by far the largest stone I carry, and it’s pretty much the only thing that prevents me from being able to get up and go work in low-paying countries like Vietnam and Mongolia. I’d sell my belongings, but I already did that, two years ago, and I didn’t sell them, I gave them to charity. The only two valuable things I own are also the two items I need to make a living: my computer and my camera equipment.
• Pets: Marc and I have two cats, but I would not have gotten them if I were living alone. Marc’s job does not permit him to travel with me (unfortunately), so I have a built-in pet sitter that the cats are already familiar with.
• Contracts: My job is blessedly free of a contract, and I have a tendency to seek out work that is often temporary in nature (retail, waitressing, freelancing, etc). In Korea, I did have to sign a one-year contract (breaking it means deportation), but that’s not unusual when working abroad, and I consider that to be an exception. As for other contracts, the only binding thing I’ve signed in recent memory is my iPhone service from AT&T. I would not be able to do my job without a GPS-enabled phone, and there are none available on a pay-as-you-go basis, so this is a sacrifice I had to make. Thankfully, iPhones can be made to work in foreign countries, so it’s not a total loss.

The journey continues…

and my writing too. Read more about our adventures living and traveling abroad on my new website, Travel and Travails. While it continues to chronicle our year living in Spain, the unique places we traveled and the lessons and challenges we experienced, Travel and Travails is also about changing it up, finding new paths, designing the life that makes you happy.

Find inspiration, share ideas, seek the unexpected, in traveling and in life.

The holidays seem to fill the air with uplifted spirits (ok unless you’re trying to do last-minute gift shopping) and tons of people. 

In many places in the world you’ll find traditional holiday decorations and markets filled with happy passerby.

The other thing I’m noticing is how friendly many people seem to be. Last night I grabbed a glass of bubbly with a friend near Rockefeller Center and we chatted with our waiter, Jake, as we tried to figure out a place to eat. He recommended someplace which I have been before and liked and told us his roommate work there and to mention his name for a good table!

So it’s always worth being friendly and open to conversations with new people.

1. You never know how you can help each other out and who else you may meet through someone. 
2. I find that waiters/waitresses, if they are friendly, are easy to have small-talk with, and great resources if you’re looking for something to do in the neighborhood. 
3. If you hit it off, then, as happened to me, they might be able to “hook you up” with good seats, or good service through friends of theirs.

** want more ideas to meet new people and make friends? Check out The Social Success Method **

Today, I finally worked up the courage to post my Russia wrap-up: the last few days and the journey home. I really had every intention of posting before I left Moscow, but my brain resembled a not-quite-cooked batch of scrambled eggs. Concentrating on any kind of task, especially writing about the mess of thoughts and emotions that hit you right before returning State-side after a four-month vacation, became nearly impossible. And, of course, I had some precious time to spend with some choice people, and that takes precedence over my desire to generate a new post.

I guess one of the hiccups that kept me from sharing our last week with you was the whole TORFL testing process that occurred on Monday and Tuesday. Basically, a vast majority of we program participants decided to take the state exam for Russian proficiency–lo and behold, I actually passed the elementary level. Not a triumph, but a small and respectable feat, I would say. The speaking portion made me pretty nervous, but I actually enjoyed the writing portion quite a lot. The whole testing process remains amusing to me only because Russians take testing procedures FAR less seriously than Americans do. Some of us had way more prep time for writing and speaking portions, there were indefinite start and stop points for the multiple choice exams, and sometimes there wasn’t even a proctor present in the room with us. That’s not to say that I was necessarily surprised. I guess I even appreciated the more relaxed testing environment. It was also great to see some American students freak out  as they experience this sudden lack of discipline.

Once we got through testing, we had a few relatively free days to say goodbye to Moscow, and we did. Joey and I made it out to Red Square one last time, saw the giant Christmas tree and the giant (exclusive) ice skating rink. By last week, daylight disappeared by 3:30 in the Moscow area, so we had the chance to catch some good photos of the lights strung around the square. I’ve never seen the tree in Rockefeller Center or anything, but the one the Russians had assembled looked pretty okay.

Another place we felt needed to be seen at least once more was Patriarch’s Ponds; it seems that we both have some sentimental value attached to it, and, honestly, I wanted to see it frozen. I was surprised to hear some British people chattering in the kiddy park–I suspect they were expats or something. Oh, and although I hadn’t seen them elsewhere, I’m guessing pull-sleds (kinda like prams) remain popular in Russia. Moms scooted their kids back and forth; usually when I tried to snap photos of the little bundley babies, their moms would jet off. So I’m left with pictures of colorful baby blurs.

I’m realizing as I get through this post that I may have to dedicate a few more to that last leg of my trip. As long as no one minds waiting for old news, I think I might actually do that. Anywho, all of these activities took place last Thursday and Friday, and I felt like they were the perfect things to do/see right before leaving. For me, leaving Russia seemed a timely sort of event; the winter really deadens many of the happier emotions usually associated with the holiday season. I certainly wasn’t unhappy those last few weeks, but thinking of the sunny winter setting in in America, I couldn’t wait. Not to mention that four months in Moscow felt like eight: life there, although quite livable, is a little rougher, a little less obliging. But, of course, that doesn’t make leaving any easier. I promise to post again very soon; the transcontinental flight was the dooziest of doozies.

If you are one of those intrepid souls that occasionally likes to venture as far as a three kilometers from Central, than you should not miss this little gem of a sushi restaurant, located in Sai Ying Pun. Okay, know where Sheung Wan is? Just follow Hollywood road to the western edge of Sheung Wan and you’ll be in Sai Ying Pun. A hot spot, it is not. But there are some nice surprises to be had there, and Honjin is one.

The Girl and have walked by the place numerous times and finally decided to get off our butts and try out this not too trendy looking spot with a menu featuring a wide array of sushi, sashimi and robatayaki dishes.

We were able to get a seat easily, as the place always seems to be about 1/3 to 1/2 full but never totally booked. This is a good thing, as long as it doesn’t put them out of business. The decor is fairly standard mod sushi joint, but not quite as bright or antiseptic looking as many sushi places tend to be.

The menu is…extensive, so we got a large bottle of sake to help us pass the time as we plowed through the food selections. By the way, the sake selection is also extensive and also not cheap. About halfway through the sake, we decided that we should probably eat something, so we started with a simple vegetable/beef soup, followed by a baked oyster appetizer. It was not like the baked scallop casserole dish that I have been unable to find outside of Northridge, California, nor was it large, but it was presented beautifully and had a nice creamy (not slimy) texture. Next up, we dove into some plain old sushi and sashimi standards, including mackerel and the salmon, which was like buttah!

The place is as solid as you will find in Hong Kong, and while not inexpensive, it’s not out of line with what you can expect from similar establishments. And I give it an extra bump simply for providing a semi-upscale dining experience without having to hike into Central or (God forbid) Causeway Bay.

Grade: A
Good for: Second dates, people who live in Kennedy Town

Contact:
Unit 2-3, Imperial Terrace, 356 Queen’s Rd. West, Central
Phone: 2540-0880

Map

Thinking you might need some help with dating in Hong Kong? Well,you are in luck because Hong Kong Hitch is here. Come visit us.

As recently as last week, the Moroccan newpspaper Au Fait reported that “If you want to get the H1N1 vaccine, either get pregnant, go to Mecca, or do both.”  Of course, the paper was being humorous, but it was the truth.

The first batch of vaccine was not delivered to medical care workers, but instead to the airport, to vaccinate people who were going on Haj to Mecca (since Saudi Arabia refused to allow anyone in who had not been vaccinated).  Having now had about a month to reflect on this, it doesn’t seem as bad to me (in terms of correctness) as I originally thought.  There are so many people going to Mecca from so many countries, that no doubt if Saudi Arabia had not required that, the Haj itself could have started an epidemic.  So perhaps this procedure was OK in retrospect (although I’m not a doctor).  However, according to Wikipedia, it takes about ten days for antibodies to develop and protect a person once they are vaccinated.  Pregnant women and health care workers have just started to be vaccinated this week.

According to the Agence Maghreb Arabe Presse, vaccinations were started for diabetics and asthmatics on Friday, December 11, 2009.  According to the article, 90,000 people were vaccinated on Friday.  Vaccinations in prisons started on Saturday.

I called my local pharmacy today (Monday, December 14) to see if I could yet purchase the vaccine (in Morocco, you don’t get vaccines from the doctor; you instead need to purchase them yourself, and then take it to the doctor, who injects you).  However, the pharmacy told me it’s not available yet to the public, and suggested in Marrakesh that the Clinic Ibn Tofial was the only place that had doses to dispense to asthmatics and diabetics.  I did find that the seaonal flu vaccine is now back on the pharmacy shelves after being absent for the past two months.

Official cases today stand at 2461, according to the Agence Maghreb Arabe Presse, at the link above.

As you know, my mission is to help people relocating to adjust to and overcome the social, personal, and professional issues that arise after moving to a new city.  One of the biggest difficulties with moving is creating a new social network.  I’m always on the lookout for excellent resources and ideas, and recently found a great organization in Paris called Paris4U.net  I interviewed one of the founders to help you get more information about what it is, and the benefits of joining. 

Q. What is the mission of Paris4U.net?

A. The mission of Paris4U.net is to connect people from different types of backgrounds and cultures living and working in Paris.  We’re here to provide a forum for expatriates living in and around Paris to connect with each other and enhance their experience living abroad. 

Q. What inspired you to start your business, and how long have you been working on it?

A. I myself lived in several countries on various continents. I know for a fact how difficult it is integrate and build a social, personal, professional, and family life, when you arrive in a new country, especially one where the national language is not your mothertongue. It takes time to find out what there is to discover, what to do, whom to meet, where to go, how to find your marks, how to organize your leisures, etc… I hope the site will be a platform allowing all nationalities and cultures to gather, discuss, talk, meet, enjoy Paris together. The site itself is brand-new, it just recently started.

Q. What are some of the benefits of signing up to become a member at Paris4U.net?

A. Paris4u provides a venue for those living in and around Paris to communicate and interact with one another in English.  This includes the ability to put up classifieds, create events, and even the ability to communicate with each other via the forums.

Q. What expansion plans do you have – I think you may be offering your services in different cities soon?

Ultimately, we plan on creating a template using Paris4u as an example to expand to other cities globally.  Our next goal will be NYC.

Q.  Is there anything else people should know about you and Paris4U.net?

A. Paris4u is will be constantly evolving over the next few weeks and we want to provide our members with a more personal experience.  This means we are always looking for more input, suggestions, ideas on what the members would want/need or like to see.  We also plan on taking advantage of various social networks such as facebook and youtube to tap into a wider audience.

** Do you know of or have an excellent resource for networking where you live?  Post a comment here and tell me about it! **

** Want to relocate with ease, and avoid or overcome the social, personal, and professional challenges that you’ll confront? Check out The Relocation Success System!

This interesting article from Prevention Magazine is making the rounds through emails:

The 7 foods experts won’t eat

by Liz Vaccariello, Editor-in-Chief, PREVENTION, on Tue Nov 24, 2009 11:15am PST

How healthy (or not) certain foods are—for us, for the environment—is a hotly debated topic among experts and consumers alike, and there are no easy answers. But when Prevention talked to the people at the forefront of food safety and asked them one simple question—“What foods do you avoid?”—we got some pretty interesting answers. Although these foods don’t necessarily make up a “banned” list, as you head into the holidays—and all the grocery shopping that comes with it—their answers are, well, food for thought:
20 ways to feed your family for $100 a week.

1. Canned Tomatoes

Canned Tomatoes

The expert: Fredrick vom Saal, PhD, an endocrinologist at the University of Missouri who studies bisphenol-A

The problem: The resin linings of tin cans contain bisphenol-A, a synthetic estrogen that has been linked to ailments ranging from reproductive problems to heart disease, diabetes, and obesity. Unfortunately, acidity (a prominent characteristic of tomatoes) causes BPA to leach into your food. Studies show that the BPA in most people’s body exceeds the amount that suppresses sperm production or causes chromosomal damage to the eggs of animals. “You can get 50 mcg of BPA per liter out of a tomato can, and that’s a level that is going to impact people, particularly the young,” says vom Saal. “I won’t go near canned tomatoes.”

The solution: Choose tomatoes in glass bottles (which do not need resin linings), such as the brands Bionaturae and Coluccio. You can also get several types in Tetra Pak boxes, like Trader Joe’s and Pomi.

14 worst health mistakes even smart women make.

2. Corn-Fed Beef

Corn-Fed Beef

The expert: Joel Salatin, co-owner of Polyface Farms and author of half a dozen books on sustainable farming

The problem: Cattle evolved to eat grass, not grains. But farmers today feed their animals corn and soybeans, which fatten up the animals faster for slaughter. More money for cattle farmers (and lower prices at the grocery store) means a lot less nutrition for us. A recent comprehensive study conducted by the USDA and researchers from Clemson University found that compared with corn-fed beef, grass-fed beef is higher in beta-carotene, vitamin E, omega-3s, conjugated linoleic acid (CLA), calcium, magnesium, and potassium; lower in inflammatory omega-6s; and lower in saturated fats that have been linked to heart disease. “We need to respect the fact that cows are herbivores, and that does not mean feeding them corn and chicken manure,” says Salatin.

The solution: Buy grass-fed beef, which can be found at specialty grocers, farmers’ markets, and nationally at Whole Foods. It’s usually labeled because it demands a premium, but if you don’t see it, ask your butcher.

25 ridiculously healthy foods you should be eating now.

3. Microwave Popcorn

Microwave Popcorn

The expert: Olga Naidenko, PhD, a senior scientist for the Environmental Working Group,

The problem: Chemicals, including perfluorooctanoic acid (PFOA), in the lining of the bag, are part of a class of compounds that may be linked to infertility in humans, according to a recent study from UCLA. In animal testing, the chemicals cause liver, testicular, and pancreatic cancer. Studies show that microwaving causes the chemicals to vaporize—and migrate into your popcorn. “They stay in your body for years and accumulate there,” says Naidenko, which is why researchers worry that levels in humans could approach the amounts causing cancers in laboratory animals. DuPont and other manufacturers have promised to phase out PFOA by 2015 under a voluntary EPA plan, but millions of bags of popcorn will be sold between now and then.

The solution: Pop natural kernels the old-fashioned way: in a skillet. For flavorings, you can add real butter or dried seasonings, such as dillweed, vegetable flakes, or soup mix.

Your nutritional guide to grocery shopping.

4. Nonorganic Potatoes

The expert: Jeffrey Moyer, chair of the National Organic Standards Board

The problem: Root vegetables absorb herbicides, pesticides, and fungicides that wind up in soil. In the case of potatoes—the nation’s most popular vegetable—they’re treated with fungicides during the growing season, then sprayed with herbicides to kill off the fibrous vines before harvesting. After they’re dug up, the potatoes are treated yet again to prevent them from sprouting. “Try this experiment: Buy a conventional potato in a store, and try to get it to sprout. It won’t,” says Moyer, who is also farm director of the Rodale Institute (also owned by Rodale Inc., the publisher of Prevention). “I’ve talked with potato growers who say point-blank they would never eat the potatoes they sell. They have separate plots where they grow potatoes for themselves without all the chemicals.”

The solution: Buy organic potatoes. Washing isn’t good enough if you’re trying to remove chemicals that have been absorbed into the flesh.

14 ways to make veggies less boring.

5. Farmed Salmon

The expert: David Carpenter, MD, director of the Institute for Health and the Environment at the University at Albany and publisher of a major study in the journal Science on contamination in fish.

The problem: Nature didn’t intend for salmon to be crammed into pens and fed soy, poultry litter, and hydrolyzed chicken feathers. As a result, farmed salmon is lower in vitamin D and higher in contaminants, including carcinogens, PCBs, brominated flame retardants, and pesticides such as dioxin and DDT. According to Carpenter, the most contaminated fish come from Northern Europe, which can be found on American menus. “You can only safely eat one of these salmon dinners every 5 months without increasing your risk of cancer,” says Carpenter, whose 2004 fish contamination study got broad media attention. “It’s that bad.” Preliminary science has also linked DDT to diabetes and obesity, but some nutritionists believe the benefits of omega-3s outweigh the risks. There is also concern about the high level of antibiotics and pesticides used to treat these fish. When you eat farmed salmon, you get dosed with the same drugs and chemicals.

The solution: Switch to wild-caught Alaska salmon. If the package says fresh Atlantic, it’s farmed. There are no commercial fisheries left for wild Atlantic salmon.

Delicious and easy fish recipes

6. Milk Produced with Artificial Hormones

Commercial Milk with Artificial Hormones

The expert: Rick North, project director of the Campaign for Safe Food at the Oregon Physicians for Social Responsibility and former CEO of the Oregon division of the American Cancer Society

The problem: Milk producers treat their dairy cattle with recombinant bovine growth hormone (rBGH or rBST, as it is also known) to boost milk production. But rBGH also increases udder infections and even pus in the milk. It also leads to higher levels of a hormone called insulin-like growth factor in milk. In people, high levels of IGF-1 may contribute to breast, prostate, and colon cancers. “When the government approved rBGH, it was thought that IGF-1 from milk would be broken down in the human digestive tract,” says North. As it turns out, the casein in milk protects most of it, according to several independent studies. “There’s not 100% proof that this is increasing cancer in humans,” admits North. “However, it’s banned in most industrialized countries.”

The solution: Check labels for rBGH-free, rBST-free, produced without artificial hormones, or organic milk. These phrases indicate rBGH-free products.

Don’t be fooled by these 11 health food imposters.

7. Conventional Apples

Conventional Apples

The expert: Mark Kastel, former executive for agribusiness and codirector of the Cornucopia Institute, a farm-policy research group that supports organic foods

The problem: If fall fruits held a “most doused in pesticides contest,” apples would win. Why? They are individually grafted (descended from a single tree) so that each variety maintains its distinctive flavor. As such, apples don’t develop resistance to pests and are sprayed frequently. The industry maintains that these residues are not harmful. But Kastel counters that it’s just common sense to minimize exposure by avoiding the most doused produce, like apples. “Farm workers have higher rates of many cancers,” he says. And increasing numbers of studies are starting to link a higher body burden of pesticides (from all sources) with Parkinson’s disease.

The solution: Buy organic apples. If you can’t afford organic, be sure to wash and peel them first.

–Posted  (but not written by) by Paloma

As every schoolchild knows, December 13 is the day the Dutch explorer Abel Tasman (namesake of Tasmania, the Tasman Sea, the Tasmanian tiger, etc.) first set European eyes on Nieuw Zeeland (later Anglicized to New Zealand), in 1642. And December 13 happened to be the day we came north to the Bay of Islands, where British rule over New Zealand started almost two hundred years later.

Unlike New Netherland, which the Dutch bought from the Indians and later surrendered to the British who renamed it New York, the Dutch didn’t settle New Zealand–because during Tasman’s discovery voyage he lost four sailors to the Maori. The fierceness of the Maori was also the reason the British didn’t rush into settle New Zealand. In need of a new penal colony after Georgia became unavailable in 1776, they looked for new spots in the Antipodes. They decided on Australia, as it had less threatening natives than New Zealand.

Europeans started arriving anyway, causing trouble among themselves and with the Maori, so in 1832 the British government named a British Resident (at half pay). Here’s his house:

and part of his garden:

In his front yard in 1840, the British and the Maoris signed the Treaty of Waitanga, to resolve issues of sovereignty over the land (and to give the British a document they could use to keep out the French, who had designs on the south island). Not surprisingly, considering the disparate languages and cultures, the Maoris and the British interpreted the treaty differently, and it is still at the center of land claims.

Given that the Treaty was the founding document of British New Zealand, it’s a bit surprising that the house and land were virtually abandoned for decades until, in the early 1930s, a Governor-General (representative of the British Crown in New Zealand) and his wife used their own funds to buy the property and give it to the country, in time to have it fixed up for the centennial of the signing. Maori tribes from all over the country donated a meeting house and a war canoe:

named after the legendary first Polynesian canoe to visit New Zealand a thousand years ago.

Across the bay from the Treaty Grounds

is the little town of Russell, the first European settlement in New Zealand, where whalers and merchant ships stopped. Although its original Maori name meant “Sweet blue penguin” (apparently blue penguin meat was tasty), its nickname by the time of the treaty was “the hell-hole of the Pacific,” as it was full of brothels and bars and devoid of law enforcement. It became New Zealand’s first capital (briefly—the capital moved twice, as it did in the young United States). Among its more attractive buildings are the oldest extant church (1830s, remodeled 1870s) in New Zealand, of which I couldn’t take a decent exterior photo, so here are a stained glass window:

and several of the dozens of needlepoint pew cushions with local scenes, native birds, and the like:

and the 1860s police station and residence, under a massive Moreton bay fig tree:

Above the main street is the most expensive overnight accommodation in New Zealand, at five figures. Yup, the former “hell-hole of the Pacific” is now a major tourist destination. The Bay of Islands is full of fancy B&Bs, a wide range of motels (including very modest places catering to backpackers), every kind of boat hire you could wish (except maybe an ice cutter, and the last whaler disappeared a century ago), and loads of restaurants and take-away places—and with only one McDonald’s.

There’s so much talk of movement these days, the advice on everyone’s lips. Personally I’m charmed by the elegant momentum of agile living.

A young woman posed a question at TravelBlogExchange this month, asking round-the-world travelers and serial expats how they face their homesickness. She wants to be an expat one day soon, she wrote, but how can she leave her family and everything she knows?

Being abroad for long stretches — some of us looking at forever — sure we get homesick, I told her.

packing for the Grand Tour

But it’s actually deeper than that. With each passing day the things we miss change and we end up pining for something that no longer exists. The more we move around, the less home is one place. A bittersweet price of going out into the world. What you gain is a new way of seeing yourself, your family, your home, your nation, the planet.

It’s quite possible all of us — from the young woman whose family and current surroundings define her world to long-term travelers toughened by life on the road — are so enamored with our present reality (good, bad or indifferent) we’re reluctant to let go for something that will stretch us past our idea of ourselves.

That future-travel-blogger may yearn for a wider experience, but in a few words she expressed a poignant desire to stay right where she was. At least for now.

If each tiny, agile step is a shift away from something else — guaranteed not to be there forever, trustily waiting for our return– we need to consider with extra care where we are headed and when we choose to go.

How do you keep what you love in your life as you move forward?

One of my good friends from Boston was originally from Dubai. She’d been raised there but doesn’t speak more than a few words of Arabic. When I first met her, I was completely surprised. A Lebanese Armenian girl, living in an Arab country for all her life and can’t speak the language? How did she ever get by?

The past few days shed a blinding light on my curiosity. I went to Dubai for the first time in 2007. My closest friends live there and I wanted to see what the fuss was all about. We spent most of our time that trip on the beach, walking laps around the garangutan malls, drinking into the wee nights with Zaatar-w-Zeit breakfasts right after, and doing a few touristic things, like Dune riding. There isn’t really much to do besides that.

To say that Dubai has changed in the past two years is a major understatement. The entire skyline is different now. Burj Dubai, or what I like to call “Toothpick in the Sky”. hails as the tallest building in the world with the biggest mall, Dubai Mall, right beneath it. Dozens of other building sprouted and there are 20 different sectors/“villages” for every business industry. It feels like one massive Sim game where the players are bored sheikhs with the secret code that gives you unlimited cash.

Eerie capture of Burj Dubai, by Michael Enning

For anything to exist in Dubai, it has to fit into one of these categories: the biggest, the tallest, the most luxurious, or the most ridiculous. Who’s the genius behind the world islands? The huge bubble finally burst when they claimed bankruptcy recently. A reality kick was certainly due after such rapid growth, and hopefully things will tone down moving forward.

Honestly, I’m not hating on Dubai. From literally a desert, rose an international city. Where only camels used to trot, now slide lavish Mercedes and gold-plated Hummers. It’s an adult playground that caters to the ambitious, expats searching for that Middle Eastern flavor, women/men with shopping addictions and your typical party-going, beach-lying hedonists.

One can’t help but appreciate how organized it is though. The streets are easy to navigate, the metro is running (but a little bit useless), and there’s an underlying sense of Western order. People actually respect the law. None of my friends will even touch alcohol if they are driving. If you have an accident and the cops detect alcohol, automatic jail time. No get-out-of-jail card, no tolerance.

Although Dubai is very much an Arab country (and all the Deshdeshes (white dress-clothes men wear) will keep you in check), it’s also eerily Western. It completely messed with my sense of perception. It looks like an Arab country, feels as dry as one, but yet it’s full of foreigners – Americans, Irish, British, French, Swedish, Indian, Filipino – you name it! And they all seem to belong. Forget melting pot, Dubai is simply a freak. I just have to accept it as such.

And that answered my question as to why my friend never needed Arabic living there.

Guarding Against International Parental Child Abduction

By Jeremy D. Morley

Before you move overseas, realize that if you have children in a new country you may find yourself trapped there. An example: Angie the American and Gus the Greek (from Cyprus) moved to Cyprus with their baby. Life in Cyprus didn’t work out for Angie. In fact, she hates it there. But Gus refuses to leave and he refuses to allow Angie to take the baby back to the States to live. Since both Cyprus and the U.S. are parties to the Hague Convention on the Civil Aspects of International Child Abduction, Angie will be in big trouble if she takes the child back to the States without Gus’ permission. Angie wishes she had consulted an international family lawyer before she moved overseas. Now she’s stuck there.

If you make a deal with your husband or wife that you’re going overseas just for a trial and that you’ll return if it doesn’t work out – Get it in writing. Verbal agreements always seem to be forgotten when things blow up. But also know that even a written agreement may not work. A foreign court handling your child custody case may well that it doesn’t care what your deal with was with the other parent; it must only consider what’s best for the kids.

Before you switch residences, consider how it might impact a possible divorce. An example: Arnie and Alice in America signed a prenuptial agreement before they married. Not only that, but Arnie made pretty sure that it was watertight not only by having it drafted by his own lawyer but also by insisting that Alice have her own independent lawyer, and by putting term sin the agreement that are pretty fair to Alice. Arnie feels secure. Then they move to London, England oblivious of the fact that their prenup may well be unenforceable in a divorce court in England. English courts still hold that prenuptial agreements are against public policy and, while this policy is supposed to be changing, it most certainly hasn’t changed yet. To make matters much worse for Arnie (who had bags of money before the marriage and thought he was fully protected by the prenup), there is no distinction in England between marital property and separate property acquired before the marriage. He could be blowing half of his pre-marriage assets just by moving the family to England.

Before leaving home, you should hope and plan for the very best. But you also need to be prepared for the very worst. So if you are a “trailing spouse,” consider the following:

Don’t sell the house. If you maintain an address in the States it will be easier to claim that you maintained your home as your permanent residence. Certainly it will indicate that it continues to be your “domicile” (the place you live in indefinitely which remains as your domicile even if you move temporarily to another place remains your home. Having a place to return to will also make your case a lot stronger if you need to prove that your kids should be allowed to move “back home.”

Keep your contacts with your job. Prepare for the day when you may want to re-enter the job market back home. Perhaps you can even continue to do some work even while overseas.

Keep your network of friends and family at home.

If you’re overseas and are “planning” to get divorced, be as strategic as possible. Plan your moves. Consult someone who really understands the big picture. Figure out where it’s best for you to be at the time you tell your soon-to-be-ex that it’s all over. You may need to move yourself, the kids, the soon-to-be-ex and the marital assets to another place before you break the news that you want out of the marriage. And don’t leave without the evidence. It’s very frustrating when a client tells me a story of the other spouse’s gruesome physical abuse and shameless hiding of marital assets and when I ask for the evidence I’m told that it was all left behind in the foreign country before the client came back home. Intelligent planning, with strategic professional advice, is the key.

If you’re feeling stuck overseas and have children with you, don’t just bolt for the (airplane) door with the kids and run ‘back home’ to the States. Plan things out first. If you take the kids you may be guilty of international child kidnapping. You could even be arrested at the airport before you leave. If you make it to the States, you’ll probably be forced to return by an American court – and then, to completely add insult to injury, you’ll probably have to pay your spouses’s legal fees and travel expenses as well as your own. When you return your case will be heard in the foreign court, where you will be branded as an international child abductor. Consult knowledgeable international family law counsel sooner, rather than later.

On the other hand, if it’s your spouse who’s feeling unhappy and upset and who may “do a runner” back home, there are lots of things that you should be doing. Some are pretty obvious: Be kind; be understanding; and don’t stay out all night with the guys or gals from the office. Other tips are not so clear, and whether you implement them depends very much on the circumstances. Hide the passports. Befriend her travel agent, who may tell you if she’s making an airline reservation. Consult her friends. Suggest counseling. Have a plan to call the police and alert the border guards if you discover that she has taken the kids.

If you’re overseas and pregnant, and not 1000% confident that you’ll always want to live in the overseas country, consider very seriously getting out of there now. If your baby is born overseas, whether in Sweden or Saudi Arabia, the child’s “habitual residence” for purposes of the Hague Convention will be Sweden or Saudi Arabia – and that can create terrible problems if you want to take your baby “back home.”

Don’t assume that the local authorities won’t help. So many times, expats feel that the local social welfare agencies won’t understand and that they will automatically side with the other spouse who is a citizen. In fact, in many countries the support services are excellent and you should try them. Plus, an American court in a Hague Convention case won’t accept your defense that returning a child to the foreign country will put the child in grave risk of harm unless you can show that the foreign support services are unable to provide the needed protection.

Local divorce lawyers may not be your best bet. They want your business. They have an incentive to encourage you to bring your lawsuit in the place where they practice and they usually don’t know anything about the laws in other places. An international divorce lawyer, who consults with local lawyers as appropriate, can give you much more objective “big-picture” advice.

Published by: ABP World Group International Child Recovery Service

Visit our web site at: www.abpworld.com

Despite what some may think, the foreigner population isn’t entirely dominated by white people here in the big KH City. My cleaning ladies and my Chinese tutor are Phillipino. One of our favorite Vietnamese restaurants is owned by locals from there on Chishan Island.

And as of late, I’ve been exploring the local Thai massage place with my yoga teacher. I’d been going there for a while but it’s fallen under new management. It’s the cheapest place in town at $590NT for 90 minutes. That’s about $18 CAD, my friends. That means it’s a cheap alternative to a Friday night eating out or going to the pub for a pint! The best part about Thai massage in Taiwan is it’s randomness. The women who work there get a huge kick out of us. They ask us sooo many questions in Chinese which is funny because they also have a Thai accent, which I think makes me feel more comfortable speaking to them in Chinese as well. For example, my yoga teacher came in wearing a T-Shirt that said “Stupid” in Thai, and it was all the rage. So was my “Angkor, What?” T-Shirt, that I got from the expat bar in Siem Reap, Cambodia. These alone led to sooo many questions.

“How long did you go there?” Two weeks.

“Do you like it there? Do you like Taiwan?” Yes. Yes.

“How old are you?” 26.

“Do you have a boyfriend?” Yes.

“Where is he from?” USA.

“Where are you from?” Canada.

“You like coming to this place for a massage?” Yes. Yes.

“Do you feel any pain right now.” Ummm…

“What is ‘pain’ in English?” Pain. Hurt. Ow.

I digress…

I really enjoy Thanksgiving. It’s always close to, if not on, my birthday. It’s a break from classes and that sign that you’ve almost survived another semester. Of course, that often means that finals and papers and projects are looming, but this year I’m not a student so while I did have to work the absence of pressing deadlines was not missed.

And oh yeah… it’s a harvest festival with lots of food. Just say the word Thanksgiving and try not to drool. Pretend you can’t smell pie in the oven. Go on. That’s right, you either can’t do it or you aren’t American. If the latter is true, I highly recommend you hurry up and make friends with one of us and try to get an invite to next year’s feast.

Thanksgiving is, of course, also about family. Since all the Americans here are obviously a long way from our families, it just made sense to get everyone we could together and celebrate with our friends. Well, it turns out we have a lot of friends so it was lucky David has a large apartment and friendly roommate.

The planning began about a month in advance when one of my students brought me a Dr. Pepper and explained that he bought it at an import store in Paris (why don’t I own one of those?!). Early in November we went to Paris for an overnight Tim Burton film festival and our first stop when we got there was L’Epicerie Anglais. The store is much tinier than it looks on-line. In fact, I’m pretty sure I’ve seen more spacious phone booths. But the walls are packed with the bits and bobs Anglophones miss when they relocate to France- peanut butter, Pop Tarts, Marmite, Reese’s candy, Mt. Dew… the list goes on.

So in addition to some Reese’s cups and Ranch dressing (Newman’s… not as magic as Hidden Valley), I bought a can of pumpkin puree. At the same time my friend Manu was visiting her boyfriend in Vermont and brought me back some French’s Fried Onion Rings.

Everything was ready, but my immune system didn’t get the “Big day coming, work extra hard!” memo and I woke up on that 4th Thursday of November with no voice.

Could I be sick? Of course not. It’s THANKSGIVING.

So I went to work with hot honey ginger tea in tow and wrote on the board “I can’t speak. We’re going to play Pictionary.” And my Thursday lot is pretty good, so they did as they were told and enjoyed it. It was pretty pathetic though. At one point our marker died and I found a room free with a chalk board to use and I had to write a note “We’re moving to 305” and have a student read it to the class.

By my last class – 2 hrs of applied language students – I had gained enough of a voice to function with my planned lesson, but just barely. But don’t worry I was not going to be sick.

After class I ran to the butcher and ordered a huge pork roast and he told me how long to cook it, but I wasn’t sure about the temperature so I put in a whispered call in to Dad. Dad always knows.

I soon realized that my little oven couldn’t handle squash, green bean casserole, pie and pork in the short time before I was meant to be at David’s. So Fiona kindly agreed to let me dump the squash and pumpkin pie ingredients on her. She’d never so much as tasted pumpkin pie, but we had directions and the woman has magic powers. As you can see, the result was spectacular.

Fiona's Pumpkin Pie

I told Fiona I would marry her was after she made homemade chicken soup in the dorms 3 years ago and after tasting this pie, I have to say that the offer still stands. Some people marry for money, stop judging me for being willing to marry for food. Food is not the root of all evil. Besides, she’s got herself a nice Matt, so maybe I’ll marry for love after all.

Anyway, I rushed back home from Fi’s and made a cranberry sauce out of cranberry jam, OJ, and chili peppers. My other sauces were utter failures, so we won’t get into that. The sauce came out very nice even though it was made with the jam. It was just too expensive to buy plain cranberries in France.

For the green bean casserole I made cream of mushroom soup from scratch by sautéing the mushrooms in butter, adding flour and then stock and cream and some salt and pepper. I just eye-balled it and happened to make just the perfect amount. I was pretty proud of this. My pork roast also came out just right (thanks, Dad and butcher guy!).

Finally, we loaded everything up and headed to David’s. With the help of Sophie, he was making corn chowder which I would be happy to eat once a week for the rest of the year (hint, hint).

Corn Chowder

About twenty people came- half of us were Americans and the rest were English, German and French students we’d invited. The potluck menu ended up consisting of:

pork roast

roasted chicken

chicken salad

smoked salmon and herb cheese

green bean casserole

sweet potato casserole

mashed potatoes

roasted squash

corn chowder

green beans with bacon

spinach and bacon

homemade mac and cheese

stuffing (dressing, technically)

fruit salad with cream and snickers bars

pumpkin pie

apple pie

bread

wine

beer

The Feast

It was a wonderful night with plenty to be thankful for. And I didn’t see coming, but I woke up the next morning with a raging throat infection. Luckily, no one seems to have caught anything from me and my denial.