Some days I miss my old life more than other days.  All things familiar, all things that hold some memory or value to it. 

I caught up with an old friend through facebook this week.  It was such a thrill to be connected with her.  To hear her story and her successes the last 15 years.  Yes, it’s been that long since I lived in Melbourne Australia. I left in 1994 to go to Sydney and in 1997 I left for America. She shared what she had been up to.  Her highlights, her achievements and her new life.  I guess in many ways I’ve done the same, I’ve had highlights, achievements and a new life but a part of me still misses the familiar.

I miss the pubs, the mates stories, the Aussie humour.  Aussie’s know how to spin a yarn and tease a mate to the point of tears of joy!  If you were to do the same in some other place it’s thought rude, or just odd.

I miss the familiar.  I still can’t get used to the fact that school starts in September.  September is when the footy ends not the start of school.  Mate give me a break.  And even though I love to burn a wood fire at Christmas I prefer the choice of slapping a raw prawn on the barbie! I love the fact I can talk in rhyming slang or drop a word that my mates totally get, rather than having to explain it to some new cobber I’ve got to know.  I cringe when someone says ‘you have an accent’.  My dry Aussie humour will reply with “and you don’t?”.  Fair crack of whip, we all have accents.

So yes at times I lament and wish for my old life where all things were familiar, where food is how I know it to be.  Where Corn Syrup is the number one first ingredient.  Where Vegemite is thought to be a normal first food.  Where you can give a child to sip a beer without being worried you’ll get a law suit.  Where you can go to a pub and cook your own steak.  Where Fish and chips are on every ones mind Friday night.  Where pies are served at a football game.

I’ve lived with revolving door friends but in America I tend to live with friends that never invite you to there home for dinner, where your a novelty, where you have to work with them to be a friend.  Friendships here are an odd thing sigh…

Yes some days my old life seems more normal.  As or perhaps it’s about

I’ve lived away from Hong Kong nearly six years now and yet it sometimes seems like yesterday I was an expat in Hong Kong.

There is a part of me that can still bring to the surface the right snappy tone to get my point across as a real Tai Tai.  You know what I mean if you have lived in Hong Kong.  There are days you just have to pull out the trump card to get what you want.  It took me a few months before I realized what the trump card was and it may have taken some coaching from some more seasoned expats.  You only use this card in emergency situations and the card is “My Husband Said”

It is amazing what happens when you tell the door man or the handyman that the man of the house required some work to be done and really your job was just to please the man of the house!  There were many days that my husband had no idea what he had ‘ordered’ be corrected or fixed that day.  He would come home and ask what the magic words had created that day.  I loved it, it was like holding the key to Aladains Lamp.  Doormen would just to attention when I started a sentence with “my husband said’ – however it never got the bank to tell me what our bank balance was!  I guess my ranting about having had his babies just wasn’t as powerful as me saying “My husband said….”

When I turned 36 in Sydney I celebrated my birthday at the London Hotel in Balmain.  You know the one with the wrought iron balcony and the best view of The Bridge a pub can offer.  It only came to my attention as I was thanking my friends for being there that night they were all MEN.  Now I don’t mean to boast but for a bachelorette in Sydney I was doing quite well.  At that dinner of 9 men only two were gay and the rest were single.  I remember turning to two girls sitting at a nearby table and suggesting they join in.  Needless to say my bachelor flat mate made sure that evening those girls were not too jealous.

Why do I write about this you say? What has this got to do with Hong Kong? Who is interested in my former life?  The reason is simple.

In the last month I have had two conversations with friends here about the lack of male friends.  This conversation took place with other female friends who too were used to spending time with men.  There are many women who just gravitate to male company as against spending time with women.  Those people survive here but after a while you start to notice the lack of men in your life.

Sure I have three men in my life, but a three-year-olds conversation is a little different from a thirty-year-olds conversation.  In the past I have had no issue with my husband if I go out with my male buddies, in fact in Sydney last year I even slept in the same room as my old room mate.  I can’t imagine life without some of these men but here in Hong Kong I have no choice.

The best male friend I have is my husband; we are old friends going back twenty years, who then got married.  So we have lots of common interests and stories.  But even here in Hong Kong he’s not around to chat with.  My friends are now female and outings, dinners and lunches are often all female based. 

I go to lunches held by the AWA (American Women’s Association) and if you see a man there you presume he’s the guest speaker.  If you see a man in the company of a woman you know, you automatically presume they have company.  We are a member of a dinner group but more than often I go on my own, because Peter travels, and why I go is I long for that ‘male’ input into conversations.

I do have a male friend here and this is so unusual. The two women I was talking to about the lack of male company were completely jealous when I told them that I have a male friend here.  Stuart my single male friend has been most helpful to our family.  I’ve rung him up to fix a cupboard, hang a picture and even pretend to be Santa because Dad just wasn’t around to take a call from my oldest as to why didn’t get a train in his gift bag at the Mall!

So if you are planning on coming to Hong Kong as an expat be warned this is a top-heavy female place with Men being the novelty because they are AT WORK.

I was invited to dinner at a friend’s place last night.  I’ve known my friend for over a year in Hong Kong.  We have mutual friends in the US, through his mother. As his mother was in town I was invited to dinner.

Professor, as I shall call him, has never invited me over to his place. We have always extended our hospitality to our home mostly so he would have a good home cooked meal and learn mahjong.  We have spent many hours eating, drinking and ponging.  So it was with great delight I was able to accept his kind offer for dinner at his place.

Professor has often spoken about his place and joked about it’s size, and in our ‘year’ friendship I have helped him by finding a dining room table for him, one that folds in half, some art work and other bits and pieces.  So I was looking forward to seeing his small but humble abode in Mid Levels with the supposedly wonderful view.

I arrived a little late; it was raining hard and as I was organizing my umbrella the door opened.  I hardly stepped in when I was not only in the hall but also the living room and nearly in the kitchen.  As professor’s guest said it is a ’step saving’ apartment.  One step to the right from the entrance hall and you are in the kitchen two steps from the kitchen and you are in the master bedroom.  Five steps from the front door and you have reached the window to observe the most fabulous view of the Harbor.  One step from the couch (I must ask him how they got that to the 12^th floor it’s bigger than the elevator) and you are in the second bedroom which to some is really a built in robe.

Ahh but that’s Hong Kong for you, probably Asia actually.  You don’t need a lot of room, you don’t spend a lot of time at home, but you need a view.  That’s why we live in a big apartment in Happy Valley because we have no view.

I could imagine a weekend at the Professor’s reading “A room with a View”.  Not moving off that couch all weekend, if only he moved that fridge into the main living area.  Perhaps he could put that on rollers like the TV stand so you could just have easier access to the beer.

I’m so glad I got a real glimpse of a local apartment, you see us expats who supposedly come out here on big business budgets get shown ‘expat’ housing. Our accommodation all has it’s own set of price tags!

Thanks for a great dinner Professor, it was lovely meeting your mother, drinking wine, eating noodles and playing mahjong not all at the same time BUT we did do it all in the same spot!

Occasionally I would run into my friend Michael who was the program manager for 3AW-radio personality Derryn Hinch.  If you asked Michael how work was going he would say, “what time is it?” which meant did he still have a job.

Sometimes I think of that when it comes to my husband’s life in the tech industry.  But even in these uncertain times I am convinced that the world needs people like him and there will always be a tech industry from now on and though they call it the new economy in a few years it must be seen differently.  It will be part of the old economy no different from a brewery, automobile maker or the Golden Arches.

How new are those industries, not that much newer but still part of the old economy.  So give it a few years and Computers will be part of the old economy.  What’s different is that they are more and more in our homes than ever before and at a faster rate than a happy meal was.  I think therefore that makes the new economy more frightening for a lot of people.

With the type of work my husband does he tells me he will always be travelling.  So now nearly five years into being married I am used to asking “will you be here next week?”  Sometimes when I’m frustrated with the fact he’s around I ask little questions like “are you travelling soon?”  One of my good friends married to a similar travelling husband would say nicely “haven’t you got some country to visit next week”.

Deb and I both love our husband and both feel we had married the right person, we are both in love with our men.  BUT just having a little break every month is also good for the marriage.  In fact sometimes I wonder if that’s why our marriages are so good.  The travelling gave us, our space, our freedom and independence.  Now I don’t think this is for everyone but given both Deb and I married later in life we were used to doing our own thing.

My desk is messier when he’s not around, my activities don’t seem to be scrutinized as much and most importantly I can hang out at the computer longer while he’s away.  We share the office area so with him around home (especially as now he is trying a work from home program for the company) I cannot come into the office if he’s working there.  The big sighs and the earplugs in his ear are enough to warn me off.  Now he tells me the earplugs are only there because I tend to bash the keyboards.  My excuse is I type fast. 

I do like it when he travels I can make as much noise and mess as I like, I only have myself to answer to.  It’s a bit like having no parent around!

It does get down when they are away and a whole bunch of couples are doing something so you feel you should not intrude.  But then again sometimes it’s hard when a whole bunch of women do something and you feel you should stay home because DH (darling husband) has been on the road for 3 weeks.  You feel you should spend time with him.  Why don’t they choose a week to see a movie when he’s out of town!

This travelling of a spouse makes for an interesting marriage, it can be stressful but it can also be fun.  You learn to make major decisions like what school your child should attend or where you are going to live without your partner. You learn all about fixing trains transformer toys and that your children use your husband’s absence to get things. You learn to call on others when the computer shows signs of stress.  You learn to store up those unanswered questions till when he comes home and pick the right time to bring it up.  You learn not to pounce on a tired hungry jet lag husband with a problem till at least 24 hours.  You learn that when it comes to big questions you and your husband are often the only ones that care and the company really doesn’t.

So if you choose this life think carefully because a travelling spouse is not around to help you change a nappy (diaper), convince a child lettuce is good for you or help you do the taxes!

Some days I have to stop and ask myself did I mention that to my husband?  He travels so much that sometimes I forget if I informed him of a dinner invitation, child’s milestone or unpaid bill.  One year I forgot to tell him about a Ball I was co-chairing – so I took a date instead of him.

I often think of my husband as a friend first, husband second.  We have known each other over 25 years and married only 5 years ago.  This makes living this weird expat life easier I feel, because we have similar interests and old friends – the rest seems so incidental to our life at times.

Especially the new friends we are making.  I know he has a hard enough time to keep up with who these new friends are.  I will mention someone’s name and he looks quizzical at me as if to say “should I know them?”.  Sometimes I wonder if he should and other times I have to stop and think has he even met them since living here?

So often conversations are filled with tit bits to bring him in the picture with what I’m planning for us.  It is usually necessary for me to preface my story with how we know the person.

I think that in our time of living here we have met many people and I for one has met even more.  We have also seen many people leave and just disappear it seems, gone to another country without a question or a good bye.

Last year it seemed the doors were not revolving doors but more like swinging doors.  In / out went our friends in a matter of three months early 2000.  This year it has been less perhaps I have become more cautious in whom I select as someone we should socialize with.  Perhaps it has become more obvious to me who is definitely on the move and who is staying long term.   It is also obvious to me that those that are hear for the long haul often do not associate with short-term assignees.

The doors that open with all sorts of friends are varied.  Expats who have done it before, first timers at this game, dinks, expats with kids, empty nesters, singles and let us not forget the newly weds all trying in another country.  I have found that a great deal of the people that try this type of life tend to have a spouse from another country i.e. he’s American she’s German.  It makes sense to send these people overseas they have the travel bug already.

Revolving door friends is hard on some people; you feel you are repeatedly telling your life story.  Sometimes I feel like putting a tape in a machine and just fast forward to the appropriate answer to the question the new friend is asking.  

This lifestyle takes its toll on some so think twice if you are thinking of doing this, divorce is not uncommon and there is talk of an Expat Spouse Syndrome. I recommend you find books on your new home and read up on what to expect and what not.

Some people meet a good buddy once they arrive in their new home and that helps.  I’ve made lots of good friends but my “bestest” friend is my husband. He is often on the road but when he comes home we make time to catch up over dinner at our little club. 

If you see us at the Aviation club you’ll know not to interrupt because we’ll be catching up on what’s happened the last week. 

Lunches in Hong Kong are a great source of swapped information between expats.  It’s also a time to talk about how you are experiencing life in your new (home) country.

My good friend who prefers to remain nameless couldn’t help but tell us that after only a year in Hong Kong she suddenly realised she had lost the ability to iron.  She like many of us has a live-in helper.  And like many of us her helper has Sunday as her day off.

One Sunday my nameless friend in a frenzy to go to a meeting realized she needed something ironed but her helper wasn’t around to do the deed.  So she got out the board and the iron set it all up and begun the small task of ironing a straight skirt when the phone rang.  And like all women she couldn’t resist the temptation to know who was on the other end.  About five minutes into the conversation lightening struck – she hadn’t turned the iron off and worse than that she hadn’t sat it upright.  So now her lovely white skirt had a lovely brown patch.

She went on to tell us that not only couldn’t she iron anymore she didn’t know how her washing machine worked.  Most washing machines here are front loader. She was unsure where to put the detergent into the machine – it took some time to find the drawer.  Once again the helper was not around and the detergent went into the wrong slot causing a lovely sudsy laundry floor.

It is not that we have become inept at these simple tasks or lazy, it’s not that we have forgotten how to do these once all too familiar jobs – I think it is a case of just having given over the authority to someone else.

We have learnt to pass the buck.  We are now spoilt.  We don’t need to worry if the shirt is ironed for that business lunch or that job interview, we know it will just be there – reappear from somewhere out of the laundry basket all crisp and clean ready to hit the street.

It’s been a busy week, with another friend flying in from Sydney for a few days.  Along with all the local tourist trap visits and a ferry to Macau, we have been digging up old stories and swapping catch-up ones.  It’s been emotional, with a lot of talk of a loved one who took his life and stories about friends no longer in my circle.  But that’s the nature of Hong Kong: people breeze in, stir up your emotions and then fly off to another exotic destination. On Friday a good friend I made here and have known almost the whole time we’ve lived in Hong Kong returns to the US.  This is more of the same and the nature of living here.  Friends from your background come and visit, friends you’ve made here leave. When it comes to friends, there is nothing constant about this kind of lifestyle.Sure I go back to my apartment, check on my boys, check the mail and get on with my life.  But the emotion and the upheaval created when a friend blows into town sure is different from life in the ‘burbs of Melbourne, Sydney or California.  It sure stirs the memories of loved ones and great times.  It reminds you of what you are missing from home: the dimension of a past.My friend felt that it must be hard to leave home to live somewhere else because of a husband’s ambition or your love for him.  This, she said, “gives your life an added dimension”.And that it does – I have met people from all over the world struggling with the same issues that I do living in Asia. Let me count the ways:I have shared my evening meal with five or six different nationalities.  I have invited strangers into my house because they too were in need of a family atmosphere (US Navy men).  I have traveled and seen poverty, reminding me of how fortunate I really am.  I have mastered communication skills that do not involve words.  I have found that women are truly the center of the melting pot.  I have found that children are a great introduction to strangers who do not know your language.I have learned to be resourceful so that depression and loneliness does not set in.I have realized that not everyone can live this lifestyle and can make it a living hell for their spouse.I have seen people make loads of money and live extraordinary lives here.I have learned to cope without family and husband at times and come to understand and cherish my friends who have been single mums.I have become outspoken on issues that are dear to me because it does matter and I can make a difference.I have learned that your immediate family becomes stronger because you depend on them for your love.I have learned to become organized, because what was here today might be gone tomorrow.I have learned to move on, especially as friends leave.And so goes another day for me …. My friend came, she breezed around and she left. May her next port of call be as interesting as it has been for me? 

Everyone who moves to a new country needs a Mary.  When I moved from Australia to Santa Clara my neighbour said to me you must meet my friend Mary.   I had to meet Mary was because her daughter had just moved to Sydney with her Australian husband and their young daughter.

Mary was missing her first grandchild and her daughter.  Within a few weeks of them leaving I filled that gap.  Here came the person with a connection, Australia and a child the same age.  So Mary and I got to know each other.

But why I say everyone who moves needs a Mary is because Mary made my transition so much easier.  Mary explained things.  She explained coupons, told me how the school system worked, what shops sold what.  She explained different terminology to me.

Not only did she help guide me in those early days she made us feel welcome in a new country.  Mary and her husband included us in all family gatherings and extended their home to us for such things as baby-sitting, Thanksgiving and Christmas.

I couldn’t begin to imagine life without Mary in the start.  We didn’t have two cars and that’s just about your worst nightmare in California.  No car, how do you get around?  Well Mary would take me to Lucky’s or run me up to the Post Office.   Not only did she help me get around she would introduce me to everyone she knew.  I was Mary’s newest daughter she would say.  Her Australian daughter was how she would put it. 

Everyone needs a Mary to help you settle in.  Imagine if we all took on a little what Mary did for me.  She eased me into a new life; she helped me make friends and taught me how to get about.  She was my address book, phone book, lifeline and friend.  She was my American mother, someone I could talk to because that first year I was homesick and she would listen.

Even when we left Santa Clara and came to Hong Kong, Mary kept up that lifeline.  She would bank my US cheques for me; she would send me bras I couldn’t by here.  She just kept extending that hand of friendship and motherhood.  She was just wonderful.

This week I flew home to attend Mary’s memorial mass.  Mary died on November 9^th at 10.15pm and so did a little of me.

I love you Mary and may this letter inspire others to be like you to those who are new to a town, city or country.