Nelson Mandela Square in Sandton City, Johannesburg.
Sitting at a cafe drinking lime & lemonade while children squeal and splash in the fountains...
Eating Greek meze on the terrace with Carien, chatting philosophically about the challenges of life...
Rendezvous at Exclusive Books, wandering around fantasizing about owning half the bookstore...
Sushi at the Cape Town Fish Market with the pharmacists, followed by a movie (quarreling over a chick flick or a skop,skiet & donder action movie for the guys, and somehow the guys always winning). Afterwards, coffee and ridiculously large slices of cake at Mugg & Bean...
Sitting at an outside cafe with Kerry in the middle of winter because she wanted to smoke - me shivering and sipping hot chocolate like a child, she quaffing wine and waving a cigarette around like a woman of the world...
Taking a break from a Saturday of studying with Anni and Senton, to get a lunch of Woolies pasta salad and chocolate soy milk...
Dinner at The Butcher Shop on Kim's birthday, lots of meat and red wine, lots of laughing...
And always, always, forgetting to use the restroom until we got to the car park, and having to use the creepy, isolated restroom at the exit while Brad waited outside...
Then sinking into my cushy European company car while Brad drove us home...
It turns out that what I miss most are little moments spent laughing with great people.
I miss "posh" places like Sandton City and Monte Casino, places where you had to get all dressed up to go eat at a restaurant with white linen tablecloths and wine glasses the size of grapefruit. Of course there are such places here, they're just very far away, and they haven't been a part of our experience here as yet - just like apple sauce and disinfectant wipes exist in South Africa, but they hadn't formed a part of my experience there. (Boy, did that cause an indignant uproar, when I said I loved Lysol wipes and apple sauce in America!)
I really do miss Exclusive Books, that vast bookstore that made you feel like the world was right there waiting for you to experience it between the pages of a crisp new book. Our bookstore, Borders, is undergoing a liquidation - now our nearest bookstore is nearly an hour's drive away.
I miss public restrooms with fancy granite surfaces, cleaned to a high shine by invisible elves, to make you feel like you had just been in an upmarket hotel. (How strange, to be missing toilets!).
But then I look around me at these picturesque tree-lined suburban streets, and I'm grateful for my wide running paths, so grateful that I can go out every morning and feel perfectly safe to run by myself, even get lost in a daydream, without fear of being attacked. I'm so grateful that Brad can hop on his bike and ride around whenever he wants, without having to drive to a safe place first, because cyclists kept getting attacked near the squatter camp by our house.
I'm so grateful that when I drive with my kids, (in my self-funded Japanese car), I can sing to them and chat to them, instead of having to formulate an action plan in case of hijackers (if that sounds excessive to you, you haven't had it happen to people you know.)
I'm grateful for safe, clean, well-maintained parks that my children can play in. I'm grateful that they can wander into the next aisle in a store without me panicking that they've been kidnapped.
And so it seems it matters less where you are than how grateful you are - if you appreciate what you have, any place can be home. I am so grateful for the friends and family I have in South Africa and the unforgettable memories we made. What makes their absence bearable, is knowing that this is now my home, my safe haven, my place. And of course, knowing that they are just a click away...
Friday, August 19, 2011
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
Life is a double nut chocolate chunk cookie
I arrived home this evening to find Brad cooking roti and paneer makhni, the house spotlessly clean, laundry clean and folded, and the children contentedly playing with Play-Doh. It's so difficult being me...
My life and outlook have improved dramatically since my previous blog post. Work is more pleasant, my tyrannical manager has learned to respect me (even, dare I say, value me) and our social life has been pretty good, all things considered.
Sadly, though, my waistline continues to suffer the effects of all the American food I insist on stuffing into my pie-hole. I just can't free myself from the temptation of Reese's Peanut Butter Cups, Cookies 'n Cream ice cream, and Costco's double nut chocolate chunk cookies. They make the perfect ending to a relentless day when savoured with a glass of vanilla-flavoured almond milk, while mindlessly surfing the Net and listening to the soothing sighs of slumbering children.
Yet, if my weight is the only casualty of this fabulous journey, I consider myself fortunate. Moving to a different country allows one to take on a completely different perspective - I'm fully immersed in this life, and at the same time, strangely detached. For instance, driving to work, I trundle along in the slow lane, drinking in the spring sunshine; appreciating the young vineyards, the cow-dotted green fields, the endless wildflowers; admiring the raptors circling and swooping overhead, and I know that I am luckier than anyone who is not here, in this place, right now. I watch the other drivers, eyes locked ahead, minds already at work, and smiling inanely to myself, I know I am luckier than all the people who are here, in this place, right now.
At home, things are settling down nicely. The children occasionally make it through an entire night without waking once, and I'm finally, for the first time in over 3 years, able to join that elite club of moms whose children "sleep through". Spending all this time with Brad has been wonderful for the kids. The biggest development in Nikhil has been emotional - he's become more reasonable, less prone to tantrums or sulking. Ariane is starting to say 2-word "sentences". When she wakes up earlier than Nikhil in the mornings and can't find him, she runs through the house calling "Keel! Baba!" (Nikhil, brother).
Ariane is fascinated with shoes, clothes and makeup (she calls makeup "kup-up") and I usually find my makeup under the bathroom counter, smashed and scratched and smeared everywhere. She prefers her dad over me most of the time, even in the middle of the night or when she gets hurt.
Nikhil is now into typing. He's figured out how to change the font size and colour in Word, and has fun typing out words. We promised him a bunk bed once he learns to put himself to bed, so he ran over to the computer and typed "bucbed".
Both kids call Brad "mom", I have no idea why. They call me Mom too, sometimes Nikhil calls me Dad. It's quite strange how they have this inborn notion that the primary caregiver should be mom. The other day, Nikhil was giving us a lengthy list of all the things he wanted us to buy, so Brad, exasperated, told him he should go out and work so he could buy all these things. Taken aback, Nikhil replied, "No, I can't go to work! I'm not a lady!" I hope he's good at identifying sugar-mommies...
My life and outlook have improved dramatically since my previous blog post. Work is more pleasant, my tyrannical manager has learned to respect me (even, dare I say, value me) and our social life has been pretty good, all things considered.
Sadly, though, my waistline continues to suffer the effects of all the American food I insist on stuffing into my pie-hole. I just can't free myself from the temptation of Reese's Peanut Butter Cups, Cookies 'n Cream ice cream, and Costco's double nut chocolate chunk cookies. They make the perfect ending to a relentless day when savoured with a glass of vanilla-flavoured almond milk, while mindlessly surfing the Net and listening to the soothing sighs of slumbering children.
Yet, if my weight is the only casualty of this fabulous journey, I consider myself fortunate. Moving to a different country allows one to take on a completely different perspective - I'm fully immersed in this life, and at the same time, strangely detached. For instance, driving to work, I trundle along in the slow lane, drinking in the spring sunshine; appreciating the young vineyards, the cow-dotted green fields, the endless wildflowers; admiring the raptors circling and swooping overhead, and I know that I am luckier than anyone who is not here, in this place, right now. I watch the other drivers, eyes locked ahead, minds already at work, and smiling inanely to myself, I know I am luckier than all the people who are here, in this place, right now.
At home, things are settling down nicely. The children occasionally make it through an entire night without waking once, and I'm finally, for the first time in over 3 years, able to join that elite club of moms whose children "sleep through". Spending all this time with Brad has been wonderful for the kids. The biggest development in Nikhil has been emotional - he's become more reasonable, less prone to tantrums or sulking. Ariane is starting to say 2-word "sentences". When she wakes up earlier than Nikhil in the mornings and can't find him, she runs through the house calling "Keel! Baba!" (Nikhil, brother).
Ariane is fascinated with shoes, clothes and makeup (she calls makeup "kup-up") and I usually find my makeup under the bathroom counter, smashed and scratched and smeared everywhere. She prefers her dad over me most of the time, even in the middle of the night or when she gets hurt.
Nikhil is now into typing. He's figured out how to change the font size and colour in Word, and has fun typing out words. We promised him a bunk bed once he learns to put himself to bed, so he ran over to the computer and typed "bucbed".
Both kids call Brad "mom", I have no idea why. They call me Mom too, sometimes Nikhil calls me Dad. It's quite strange how they have this inborn notion that the primary caregiver should be mom. The other day, Nikhil was giving us a lengthy list of all the things he wanted us to buy, so Brad, exasperated, told him he should go out and work so he could buy all these things. Taken aback, Nikhil replied, "No, I can't go to work! I'm not a lady!" I hope he's good at identifying sugar-mommies...
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
The Daily Grind
Life has settled into a very comfortable routine, finally. I'm working regular hours, the kids are used to the fact that Brad takes care of them most of the time, and Brad is now accustomed to managing the household and kids. I've finally stopped needing my GPS to get to work and back (give me a break, I've been driving in the dark, rain and fog for the past few weeks!) and I understand the American accent a little better now.
Working in an American pharmacy is amazing. The system we work with at Rite Aid is fantastic - it makes the work day so simple and hassle-free; it's practically paperless. Prescriptions come from the doctor's rooms electronically, we fill them and bill the insurance electronically, and the patient gets notified to pick up the medication electronically. Alternatively, the patient can send us an electronic request for medication, we send an electronic request to the doctor, the doctor replies electronically, and the patient is electronically notified to pick up their medication - all without a single phone call or fax message being sent.
Most of the people I work with are great - upbeat and fun, really enjoyable. My manager, on the other hand, is a pain in the neck. He constantly tries to make me feel stupid, and reprimands me for not doing things properly when I haven't been shown the right way to do them. He gave me a written warning for a mistake I made in my second week on the job - 2 more written warnings mean I get fired. He never misses an opportunity to tell me how much more money than me he makes (despite the fact that I'll be earning the same in about 10 months), how much better educated he is than I am (despite the fact that I passed an equivalence exam that satisfied the Board of Pharmacy that I am equivalently qualified), or to pass on "helpful tips" on how to be a good pharmacist (despite the fact that I've been a pharmacist for 9 years, he for 3). In my head, I know that I shouldn't let him get me down, but he wears me down with constant reprimands multiple times a day, to the point that I come home feeling inadequate and incompetent. It doesn't matter how perfectly I do anything, he finds something wrong with everything I do, at least a dozen times a day. I'm not in a position to argue, having only been on the job for 4 weeks, so I just nod and try to do it better next time...
On the bright side, I will soon be splitting my week between 2 pharmacies, and the way my schedule works out, I'll only have to work with this guy one day every 2 weeks. I can't wait.
Socially, I haven't made many friends yet. Working full time and studying the rest of the time doesn't leave much time for finding friends. Brad has made friends at CrossFit, where he works out 2-3 times a week with the Benades. They are a bunch of insanely fit, good-looking people who are passionate about their health and about CrossFit. They routinely do things like lift 1 million times their body weight, do 1000 push-ups on their pinky fingers, and run 50 miles in a single workout, (and that's just the ladies!) on a strict diet of broccoli, lean chicken and almond milk. I've met some of them, and they are all wonderful people, but I have to fight the urge to shrink into the shadows and try to hide my unsculpted form. I can't tell those people the ugly truth about myself - that I can barely do 10 push-ups, and that I partake of bread and ice cream and cheesecake. When they start talking about burpees and thrusters and pull-ups, I hang out with the kids and we talk about Humpty Dumpty and the three blind mice.
Brad and I wake up at 5am every morning so I can work out (he's my personal trainer because I have no willpower). Some mornings I get a workout in, but often the kids wake up and we lose the opportunity. It's very frustrating, especially when I see how defined and strong he is, and I realise I'll never get there at this rate. Another thing to feel inadequate about... I guess I'll just go get myself a big bowl of Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough ice cream then.
So that's me, folks - a shadow of my former self. An incompetent pharmacist, a fat, slovenly wife and social misfit. Things can only get better from here. I'll keep you updated on my progress - hold thumbs for me.
Working in an American pharmacy is amazing. The system we work with at Rite Aid is fantastic - it makes the work day so simple and hassle-free; it's practically paperless. Prescriptions come from the doctor's rooms electronically, we fill them and bill the insurance electronically, and the patient gets notified to pick up the medication electronically. Alternatively, the patient can send us an electronic request for medication, we send an electronic request to the doctor, the doctor replies electronically, and the patient is electronically notified to pick up their medication - all without a single phone call or fax message being sent.
Most of the people I work with are great - upbeat and fun, really enjoyable. My manager, on the other hand, is a pain in the neck. He constantly tries to make me feel stupid, and reprimands me for not doing things properly when I haven't been shown the right way to do them. He gave me a written warning for a mistake I made in my second week on the job - 2 more written warnings mean I get fired. He never misses an opportunity to tell me how much more money than me he makes (despite the fact that I'll be earning the same in about 10 months), how much better educated he is than I am (despite the fact that I passed an equivalence exam that satisfied the Board of Pharmacy that I am equivalently qualified), or to pass on "helpful tips" on how to be a good pharmacist (despite the fact that I've been a pharmacist for 9 years, he for 3). In my head, I know that I shouldn't let him get me down, but he wears me down with constant reprimands multiple times a day, to the point that I come home feeling inadequate and incompetent. It doesn't matter how perfectly I do anything, he finds something wrong with everything I do, at least a dozen times a day. I'm not in a position to argue, having only been on the job for 4 weeks, so I just nod and try to do it better next time...
On the bright side, I will soon be splitting my week between 2 pharmacies, and the way my schedule works out, I'll only have to work with this guy one day every 2 weeks. I can't wait.
Socially, I haven't made many friends yet. Working full time and studying the rest of the time doesn't leave much time for finding friends. Brad has made friends at CrossFit, where he works out 2-3 times a week with the Benades. They are a bunch of insanely fit, good-looking people who are passionate about their health and about CrossFit. They routinely do things like lift 1 million times their body weight, do 1000 push-ups on their pinky fingers, and run 50 miles in a single workout, (and that's just the ladies!) on a strict diet of broccoli, lean chicken and almond milk. I've met some of them, and they are all wonderful people, but I have to fight the urge to shrink into the shadows and try to hide my unsculpted form. I can't tell those people the ugly truth about myself - that I can barely do 10 push-ups, and that I partake of bread and ice cream and cheesecake. When they start talking about burpees and thrusters and pull-ups, I hang out with the kids and we talk about Humpty Dumpty and the three blind mice.
Brad and I wake up at 5am every morning so I can work out (he's my personal trainer because I have no willpower). Some mornings I get a workout in, but often the kids wake up and we lose the opportunity. It's very frustrating, especially when I see how defined and strong he is, and I realise I'll never get there at this rate. Another thing to feel inadequate about... I guess I'll just go get myself a big bowl of Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough ice cream then.
So that's me, folks - a shadow of my former self. An incompetent pharmacist, a fat, slovenly wife and social misfit. Things can only get better from here. I'll keep you updated on my progress - hold thumbs for me.
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