Last week was supposed to be our spring break. Well, technically it was still our spring break, but we weren’t allowed to go anywhere, and our trip to Jordan was canceled. So, it was basically the same as every other week, minus the Zoom lessons.
“See Petra” and “Camp in Wadi Rum desert” have been on my bucket list for a long time. And after last year’s spring break in Egypt, I was longing to return to that part of the world. To help quell the feelings of wanderlust and utter disappointment, Luke and I decided to recreate our trip at home.
Here was our itinerary (which we fully intend to replicate later this year), and some extremely silly quarantine recreations.
For the last month, I’ve been receiving emails from the US Embassy in Bucharest: health alerts, travel advisories, and increased warnings to return to the United States, unless I’m prepared to “remain abroad for an indefinite period.” Then, a few days ago, the inevitable came: Commercial flights to and from the U.S. have been suspended.
It’s day 29 of social isolation, and I’m currently writing this from our office–the place I’ve turned into my journalism “classroom” for the last four weeks. The windows are open, the birds are chirping, and the warm sun is streaming in; though all I can focus on is the fact that someone in the neighborhood is playing La Bouche’s 1995 hit “Be my Lover.” Loudly.
Last night, my husband and I spent some time looking out the window. All around us, apartment buildings were full of light. Even the old, gray Communist block down the street–the one I assumed was condemned–had suddenly sprung to life.
A man in his living room did squats. A woman folded laundry. We saw people cooking, eating. A couple danced in their kitchen.
I thought back to a few months earlier when Luke and I were on an Alfred Hitchcock kick. We watched “Rear Window,” and the whole time I kept thinking, Why doesn’t anyone just close their blinds?
It’s day 8 of distance learning, day 11 of social distancing. At first, people were jokingly referring to this as “Corona-cation.” It was sunny and warm, and the first day of online teaching began with pancakes and coffee on the balcony. I believe my husband and I even toasted to the “time off.” A few days later, we found a Coronavirus playlist on Spotify. We made Aperol Spritzes and listened to “It’s the End of the Word as We Know it” by R.E.M.
I have a confession to make: before yesterday, I hadn’t filed my taxes in three years. I know this is awful, but I was honestly just too overwhelmed.
Before moving abroad, I filed my taxes every year. It was easy: I claimed 0 on my W-2 form, then when tax season rolled around, my employer gave me all the information I needed. I typed it into Turbo Tax, and then got a nice refund in the bank and treated myself to a new outfit.
Unfortunately, it’s not that easy when you move out of the country. I’m going to do my best to explain what I’ve learned over the past ten years as an expat, but first…
Here are some basics that you need to know before filing:
Almost two weeks ago, Anthony Bourdain took his life, and the news has formed deep wounds within the international community.
“He was our guide, our teacher,” says longtime expat Erin Connolly. “International teachers live uniquely transient lives; it was comforting to know that we could always turn to Anthony Bourdain to give us insight into the strange new places we were diving into.”
Connolly and her husband, Chris Powers, moved from Beijing to Romania two years ago, where they currently work at the American International School of Bucharest (AISB). “Anthony Bourdain was the person we turned to every time we visited [or moved to] a new country,” says Connolly. “Book a trip, watch Bourdain. He showed me not only how and where to eat, but how to be a thoughtful, sensitive, and productive traveler.”
Today I received a Facebook message from my friend Austin, who paid me the best compliment: “You’ve inspired me to move abroad.”
He’s heading to Costa Rica, with plans of running an online business, while learning Spanish, hitting some waves, and hopefully meeting a girl. In his words, he’s searching for “pura vida,” or “pure life.”
His message reminded me of something I wrote myself eight years ago, just before moving to South Korea. I was full of excitement and optimism and would spend hours scrolling though images of temples, reading about weekend trips from Seoul, and daydreaming about what my life would be like. I emailed everyone I knew who had spent time abroad to hear their stories.
But Austin included something in his note that I wish I had: he asked for advice, for insight. I thought about what I was going to say for awhile, and figured I’d share my reply with all of you. So, here goes: Continue reading →
Earlier this week, I stumbled upon a Facebook post written by my favorite writer, Elizabeth Gilbert. It was entitled “Why do we travel?” and began with a picture of herself, donning an eye mask and clearly suffering the effects of jet lag.
It was 3am. A time every traveler who has covered a multitude of time zones will tell you, is when you question your life choices. Much like Gilbert, you recall all the money you spent, the chores you left behind, and how many emails are waiting in your inbox. You look in the mirror, at a mere shadow of yourself—eyes hollowed, skin dry and taut, stomach bloated. And you wonder, “why the heck do I do this to myself?”
Prom tickets are for sale, yearbooks are circling the campus, and the students have traded their long pants and tennis shoes for jean shorts and sandals. It’s officially the end of the school year, and I’m counting down the days until I board a plane to Florida.
As a longterm expat, and international school teacher, I look forward to summer for so many reasons. Obviously it’s a chance to get in some much-needed friend time, family time, and pool time, but it’s also a chance to stock up on products that are hard to find (or just ridiculously expensive) on this side of the world. Continue reading →
Teaching Shakespeare is never easy. But teaching Shakespeare to a classroom of mostly English Language Learners? It’s not only difficult, but hilarious.
This morning I began reading Romeo & Juliet to my ninth graders. We had already gone over the history of Shakespeare’s life, the history of Elizabethan England, and what was considered popular entertainment at the time (think bear baiting, public executions and cockfights–and yes, “cockfights” evoked some serious laughter from the 14-year-old boys in the room.) Now it was time to discuss puns.