27 July 2010

Velocity, or is it Inertia?

Two important things you should know about me in my pre-departure state:
1) I am a list maker. I make lists of things to do, things to pack, things to keep, things to throw away, things to research, things to clean, things to photograph…And then I make lists of those lists. Simply put, this helps me to get things done.
2) After work as of late, my two perpetual states of (e)motion are A) great, forward moving accomplishments followed by rewarding myself with a glass or two of sauvignon blanc or B) great inactivity as a result of my hyper awareness of what I still need to do before we leave, followed by crying and then a glass of sauvignon blanc.

Today was actually a hybrid of the two conditions. Before I broke down into a small puddle amid the storage boxes, I managed to cancel our cable/internet service for our move-out date, and I researched international medical insurance coverage, and (and!) I investigated the Chinese visa and immunization requirements. Four checks on my “to do” list in one day. Well, they are at least half-checks. I haven’t actually purchased the insurance yet or decided on the right policy or figured out how we are going to pay for it, and I still have to get a tetanus shot and find my immunization records (was that a shot for hepatitis A or B that I got before college, and what’s the difference again?), and I have to fill in the visa paperwork and send it in and hope that the nice woman or man at the embassy office will allow me to get the type of visa that I need for the year, and I still have to find the nearest cable office and drop off that cable box that they make you rent (why did I cancel it for the same day we move out? There won’t be any time for that!)…you see how effortlessly the puddle on the floor forms?

So then I go back to my lists, and I dry off the storage boxes; I can’t let them sit amongst tears or spilt glasses of wine. I keep packing away, and make a note below the more important items on my lists, that I still need to cancel my NY Times subscription, pack my bike helmet (I don’t own a bike, by the way, and haven’t ridden one since I was seven), find that missing shoe before I give up on it altogether and throw this one away, send my black dress to the dry cleaners before we leave...I’m on my third glass, what was I saying?

25 July 2010

About Me

I share my life with my husband and schnoodle, like to write haikus and make big moves. I'm an event planner by profession, soon to be unemployed temporary expat; but more on that later.

After more than six years of a long distance relationship between NJ and Boston, Z & I married in May 2009. In May 2010, we celebrated our one year anniversary by finally moving in together in the great Garden State (that's New Jersey for all you non-natives).

We are the adventurous scholarly types. So with my curiosity in mind, and his dissertation notes in hand, our next big move is to Beijing. Which leads to the point that China is the real inspiration for this blog. While I may not reach the status of being a true Beijinger, I will try my best to explore all the city has to offer - from A to Z. Fitting in will not be my goal, but I hope to share the vastness that this new foreign place has to offer me.

Lots of new shiny moments in our lives to look forward to in 2010 and beyond: new blog, newlyweds, new city, new home, new language, new food and new fun.

What would Martha do?


Moving from one state to another (and back again), or even from the third floor of an apartment building to the first, forces you to consider the meaning of all of your personal belongings...from the "can't-live-without-its" to the the "it-was-good-while-it-lasted's."

Take for example, a three-foot, not-to-scale, metal, antique washed replica of la Tour Eiffel that was once used for the centerpiece of a fabulously planned (eh-hem) French themed bridal shower, that has since been sitting in my closet for five years. Surely I could use this piece de resistance again. How could I, in good consciousness, rid myself of such a gem? A gem that although it has been a sticking point of my marriage, had at one memorable point in time served as a great conversation piece.

Z: Upon inspection of said object, "What exactly are we going to do with this Eiffel Tower?" This thing doesn't belong in the living room. We should get rid of it...and this, and this," also pointing to various objects in the apartment.

A: "I'll use it again. Er, I like it. It's mine. Uh, I'm not getting rid of it," quickly recognizing the trend of the familiar conversation. Hides it in another, less frequently visited closet behind dozens of Christmas ornaments neatly* tucked away in plastic bins. Running out of closets and under the bed spaces in which to hide it after Z finds it for the third time in three months.

And then moving to a foreign country forces you to consider the absurdity of it all -- well maybe not all of it, but at least some of the it. So, while I am now willing, in my own time, and at my own prompting, to give away my Eiffel Tower (a grand symbolic gesture, might I add), today I begin to neatly* and patiently tuck away my, correction, our, personal belongings into plastic bin after plastic bin in preparation for their year hiatus. When we return, I probably will have forgotten about a few objects here and there; a pair of pants that no longer fit, a shirt that just doesn't quite make the cut, great aunt Claire's chipped vase that seemed oh so retro-chic prominently atop the shelf before it was hidden by that new frame from Pottery Barn (or was that last season's favorite?). I learn to rid myself of some clutter, to part with bits and pieces of bits and pieces, and I pack up the rest for its short slumber.

Just so it's clear, we do not plan to bring with us the objects, the dozens of books, the spices, the everyday trimmings that fill our shelves, closets and cupboards. We do plan to bring with us a few suitcases of clothes (of course, not to exceed 50 pounds each), our favorite deodorants and shoes, and our intangible and keen sense of what makes a home our home. It will be fun to determine exactly what that means, not only because we will be living together for the first time in our new space, but we will be living together for the first time in a foreign space. Double whammy!

To start anew is refreshing and terrifying to me. It's also not forever, so let's not get too dramatic. But part of the adventure will be in collecting new objects over which to muse, to debate their existence in our shared space together, to haggle over the "can't-live-without-its" and the "it-was-good-while-it-lasted's." Certainly, with my perseverance, I will learn how to transport a not-to-scale replica of the Great Wall by the time we leave Beijing.

*The term neatly is used relatively



24 July 2010

Two small jumps are sometimes better than one big leap...

According to the advice I received from my lastest fortune cookie, I should be weary about our big move to China. It's the biggest leap of our lives, but I'm hoping that the sometimes clause leaves room for interpretation. The jokes about eating cats and dogs are getting a bit old by now, but it hasn't taken me any convincing that this is going to be a thoroughly amazing experience. Plus, bonus! Z and I actually get to live with one another for more than three months at a time (see "About Me" section) -- in the same state, in the same city, in the same apartment. Should I say that again for emphasis? In the same state, in the same city, in the same apartment!

So, one BIG leap it is, folks.