A visit to the slum

So, the title is bizarre. Are slums something to be visited ? Of course not. But this particular slum is located on the banks of the lake, just across the river from our hotel, and the stark contrast between our life, and the lives of the people and children living a few meters from us seems even more glaring when you have it under your nose on a daily basis.

Of course, we are used to the blue tents that pop up on all the constructions sites, in India, tents where entire families live for the duration of the work, until they move to another construction site. And of course, I am forever trying to highlight how lucky we are compared to all those who have nothing, or next to nothing. My children listen to me with that expression on their faces that's part baffled, part all-knowing-bored, so that I never quite know what they understand, and wether they even listen to me.

So when a few weeks ago (yes, we'd been here a week, or so) I received an email from a person involved with an NGO helping this particular slum, and inviting all who wanted to come and bring paper, crayons, pencils so they could organize a drawing contest, I thought this would be an opportunity to get a little closer and allow our daughters to maybe understand better what I mean with all this clumsy/sententious talk. Especially as we had seen these same children on the lake below, fetching rags and what not from the water aboard their little rafts.

I cannot say it was a success. The children were hot, bothered and maybe even a little scared by the intense proximity, the smells, etc, and they ended up leaving with their father, who knows all there is to know about slums, while I stayed a while longer, interacting with the children, and having a blast taking pictures, and showing them.

Bangles, conveniently hanging from the ceiling/roof.

At some stage, I was stuck in one room/shack with something like twelve kids. Each child had a piece of paper, and there were bags with crayons on the bed, but nobody dared touch them. We waited a bit, and as nothing happened, I suggested they take the bag of crayons, open it, and start their drawing. They were so eager to begin. 

All the children in that little room drew a house, local fruits..., and the national flag !

Robin Pascoe Online Lecture Series

It seems fitting that one of my first posts from our new country should be about Expat Expert Robin Pascoe, and the subject of expatriation.

Those who read my blog know that I'm a great fan of Robin. I was lucky to meet her when she toured India (link to interview) and loved her no-nonsense, practical, humorous and yet very empathetic approach to all the issues that expats encounter when moving and living abroad. Her whole philosophy comes down to a simple evidence : It is a privilege to live abroad. But it doesn't mean that there are no challenges, and these challenges need to be acknowledged and feelings about them need to be expressed. Without ever losing sight of the fact that is is a privilege to be living abroad. Et la boucle est bouclée, as we say in French. The cycle is complete.

Robin is now launching an online lecture series on her website. This is the next best thing after being able to attend her lectures live - which may no longer be an option, as I think she's decided to slow down on all the traveling. Besides, you can access it anytime from the comfort of your own home. It is an excellent introduction to her books, and the many themes and issues developed in them (marriage, identity problems, third culture kids, global nomads and the challenges they face, how we can best help them, repatriation, etc.) And the video medium offers the added bonus of seeing and hearing Robin talk about the things she knows so well, with that voice, and particular brand of wit that I like so much.

The beauty of our expat life

On Tuesday night, our daughters' school had their annual stage production, and it was such a joy to see these children partake in a celebration that honored diverse cultures.

The children were awesome, their costumes absolutely stunning, and as I watched my daughter sing a song in Hindi, then play a piano piece from American composer William Gillock, and finally perform an Indian folk dance, I thought about how lucky our Third Culture Kids are to be able to sample the world in this way.

Of course, being an expat has its downsides and heartbreaks, and it's always good, and even necessary to be aware of them, but the breadth of these children's experiences and exposure is something that needs to be celebrated as well. Today's post is an expression of gratitude for the richness of our very colorful life.

Very blurry picture above, because it's not a picture, but a short movie. Unfortunately, I have not been able to upload it. Not quite the tech wizard, me...

Body language

OK, let's start this post with a confession - and believe you me, I'm not proud of that : I have not learned to speak Hindi (or Telugu, or Urdu, or Sanskrit). I have some excuses, I suppose. Never did we imagine we'd end up spending six years in India, and counting. Also, when we first arrived, I had a six-weeks old baby, so on top of all the adjustments of the first year's culture shock, not to mention work, and writing, I was kind of busy with the little one, and with the big one, who also had to adjust to living in a new country, going to a new school, etc, AND having a new, very noisy, and demanding little person in the family. Plus, which one of the above-mentioned languages to learn ?

Of course, after all this time, I've actually integrated a lot of everyday words into my vocabulary. I no longer ask for flour, I ask for maida. I don't use a broom, I use a jhaadu, etc. But I'll be honest : that's about it.

One thing I've learned, though, is the South Indian body language. So much so that before going home, last summer, I imagined my friends and family would laugh themselves silly just looking at me.

One of the things that strike foreigners when they arrive in this part of the world is the way people use their head. Nodding to say "yes," and head-shaking to say "no" is pretty universal. But Indians have invented a third way, with the head wobbling from right to left, the right ear going a bit closer to the right shoulder, and then the left ear closer to the left shoulder, to be repeated once or twice. What does it mean? Well, it depends. Basically, that the person agrees with you. But, you see, as it is considered rude to say "no" in India, people have come up with the solution of not saying "no" or "maybe" or "highly unlikely, but who knows? " without officially saying "yes." Brilliant, right ?

Yesterday, I parked the car to go to an ATM machine, but as I went up the steps to the small room next to the bank, I saw that the metal shutter was halfway down. I looked at the security guard sitting on a chair outside the door and rotated my hand from right to left, palm open, fingers spread, as if to say "not open?" The man said "Close," and we both wobbled our heads, secure in the fact that even though we do not speak a common language, we understood each other perfectly.  If you see me going to the shops, or talking to people (locals or expats) in India, you'll see me doing the head-wobbling thing, and lots of hand gestures. But the funny thing is, as soon as I land in another country, or deal with people who have nothing to do with India, the head-wobbling, and hand-rotating stop, and I go back to my boring pre-India body language. I guess it's a similar process to the one that made my children know, practically from the moment they could speak a few words, that I, their father, or the family in France or Haiti were to be spoken to in French, and everyone else around in English.

Here is a short video to illustrate the Yes or No head-wobbling dilemma that foreigners encounter when they first arrive in India. And just to put that poor guy's mind at rest : the young man is saying "yes," but that doesn't mean it will not turn out to have been a "no" all along.

My Global Bookshelf : A Broad Abroad, (The Expat Wife's Guide to Successful Living Abroad), by Robin Pascoe

According to Expat Expert Robin Pascoe, the trailing spouse is “the ultimate portable wife, and probably a mother too. [...] She is also the last person anybody really thinks about until all the clean underwear runs out.”

And she would know. As the trailing spouse of a Canadian diplomat, the author lived in Bangkok (where she gave birth to their first child), Taipei, Beijing, and Seoul, with re-entries in Canada in between, and a final move to Vancouver, British Columbia, all in a span of 15 years.

In this revised and updated edition of the book that first came out in 1992, Robin Pascoe shares her extensive experience, along with the lessons learned (often the hard way) with the reader, taking us through all the stages of a move abroad, from the preparations and research about the host country, the arrival and the various stages of culture shock all the way to the return home.

Chapters have telling titles like “Pre-Moving Day Jitters,” Making the Cultural Transition,” “Maids and Madams,” and “Home Leave to Hell,” with short, but always informative entries like “Why Did I Come?”, The Absent Husband,” “Your Children and Household Help,” “Doctor Disasters,” etc.

On the cover of the book, Robin sits in what looks like a huge box attached to a bicycle, an open packing box on the pavement next to her, in a street of Amsterdam. She’s ready to go. As all trailing spouses usually are, carrying so many conflicting emotions, along with their passports, and whatever belongings they’ve chosen to take across the world.

Robin’s talent lies in her ability to express feelings in a way that is at once honest, sensible and witty. She says it the way it is, which is what I love about her, and most likely what appeals to the enormous following she’s created over her years of writing and talking about expatriation. The chapter where she tackles the very sensitive issue of culture shock is a must-read for anyone even remotely concerned with expatriation.

A Broad Abroad is an essential book for any expat's wife (and if you have children, Raising Global Nomads by the same author - interview, here - is another indispensable book to have and read, over and over again). Whether you’re new to the “job” or old-timers, you will not only find practical and useful everyday advices, but also, and here comes Robin Pascoe's invaluable gift to us, the kind of empathy that we all so desperately need while facing the turmoils and challenges that go hand in hand with the joys and beauty of living the expatriate life - a voice that says: Don't you worry. I've been there, I've done that, and I am telling you: you're NOT crazy.

TCKID, hacker attack, and the need to back up

I can't remember how I came across the TCKID community. A grassroots project started by a young TCK, Brice Royer, and strongly supported by Ruth E. Van Reken, co-author with David Pollock of Third Culture Kids : The Experience of Growing Up Among Worlds, they count 21 000 members, and 13 local groups from Singapore to NYC. They have (had, actually, but read on) a website, and Brice Royer filmed several You Tube videos where he shares his experience about growing up a Third Culture Kid.

Of course, I immediately subscribed. Then, today, I received an email saying that the website was shut down, following a hacker attack on Wordpress. Read about that, here.

As an aside, it suddenly downed on me that blogs can disappear, and if I didn't back mine up, well, who is to know what could happen? Do YOU back up your blog ? That thought had never even occurred to me, but I'm glad it's done, now. (and easy to do, too. Go to the help section, and follow the instructions. Of course, I downloaded a whole lot of undecipherable lingo, but I suppose that's normal.)

Anyway, any expat reading this can check the TCKID community, and answer their call for help if they want to. I know I'd like my children to be able to count on this kind of support, as they grow up. Follow this link, if you want to find out more.

I'm not my children, and my children will not be me (thank Goodness for them)

There is an interesting article from Kerrie Wiseman in the Expat Women Newsletter, this month, about the kind of conflicting feelings parents may experience as they watch their children grow up and integrate the ways of a culture different from their own. I can certainly relate to that !

Now, I will not dwell on the numerous and well documented positives of growing up a Third Culture Kid. Nor do I need to stress, again, the fact that I strive on being an expat (not saying it's not an arduous and lonely road to travel a lot of the time, just that I seem to strive on that road - or maybe I've followed it for so long, I can't even remember how to branch onto another one, but that would be the subject for another post). I do believe it would be very hard for me to have to return permanently to my birth country after spending half my life all over the place. I was never such a good French to begin with, anyway. My Spanish half was always a part of me that I nurtured and felt very proud of, even though it set me apart from most everyone else. And yet, I can be sooo very French at times (as I realized again this summer while visiting my newly expatriated brother in Madrid ; even as I basked in the feelings of familiarity, I also experienced some culture shock of my own, to my astonishment). So, not only do I truly love some aspects of the French culture, I confess that I would like to see my children embrace them.

Kerrie Wiseman mentions very accurately that in the excitement of preparing for an expatriation, a person does not, for one minute, imagine all the implications that this new adventure will have. We can all plan. We can think ahead. But we can never imagine how living in a culture different from our own will end up moulding our children. And yet, it is inevitable. The exposure to different ways of living, experiencing and doing things will have an impact on them.

I try to prepare myself for that eventuality. I do tell myself regularly that this comes with the whole package. There are always two sides to a coin, etc.

Of course, that's the rational, logical part of my brain talking. We could also call it wishful thinking. Because the other more emotional and spontaneous part of that same brain will sometimes make me act in ways that have my hair stand on end... retrospectively :

"Don't eat with your hands, only pigs eat like that." I won't even comment on the absurdity of such statement. I mean, since when do pigs eat with their "hands" ??? But yes, I confess that these words have escaped my mouth a couple of times, only to leave me sweating, wondering how I could utter such enormity after years of living in two different countries where eating with the right hand is just the norm, and not considered pig behavior at all, Madame ! My only excuse is that I heard these words as I was growing up, because in Europe, eating with your hand was and still is labelled pig behavior. And the first mother or father who does not sometimes catch themselves uttering sentences that make them feel as if their own parents just spoke through their mouth can just throw the first stone at me.

Or, I'll find myself giving philosophical lectures to my bewildered children :

A few months after we arrived in India, I once heard my not quite 5-year old say in a sing-song voice, as I was changing her baby sister : "Shame, shame, shame !" "What do you mean, shame ?" I asked. She proceeded to explain that at school, whenever a kid showed a naked butt (going to the bathroom, or such, these were Kindergarten children) someone would laugh at them and sing "Shame, shame, shame." Imagine me going out of my way to explain that NO BODY PART IS SHAMEFUL. We were all made the same, with arms and legs, and a head, and a nose, and a mouth, and YES, a butt, too, and that butt is mightily useful, so where is the shame, I ask you ? Right. As if all that ranting wasn't going to fly miles over my 4-year-old's head. And yet, I've also learned that kids living in between cultures do learn to act a certain way here, and another, there. Basic survival, most likely. So, who is to know for sure whether my discourse might have an impact in the long run ? I can only do what feels right at any given time, and hope for the best.

One last example, to follow the writing rule of three :

The French in me, who tends to like understated elegance, also finds it hard, sometimes, to remain silent when she sees the way her two kids just LOVE piling up colors, and glitter, and bangles, and anklets, and bindis, and beads on them until they can barely move (the way an Indian bride, however gorgeous, looks with all the jewelry and heavy saris).

These are obvious (and in the last case rather innocuous) ways in which our children will be influenced by another culture, but there are others, more insidious.

What to think, for instance, of the fact that both my daughters have now lived in places where women are constantly diminished and treated with utmost disdain - when not unbearable violence ? Or, what to think of the fact that Bolly and Tollywood movie posters lining the streets of Hyderabad always show men in macho situations, wielding weapons, guns, knives, sabers, and their women counterparts are either threatened, or looking all teary and suitably helpless ?

Should I voice my disapproval, as in the shame-shame case ? Or should I wait for the subject to come up naturally ? How does one broach such big subjects with children, in a way that will impact them, but without being too forceful ? What is the right age to do it ? There again, I can only rely on my gut instinct, and learn by trial.

I could also mention how they use the word "maid" in a way that I can never get used to (not to mention that I barely ever use that word myself). It's not that they're scornful or rude. But their assumption is clearly that a maid is someone you go to when you need something done that you'd rather not do yourself. Like picking up your toys. And it honestly doesn't matter that Mom has repeatedly asked her house help (or nanny when we had one) to NOT be at the beck and call of the little tyrants. If Mom turns her back, the children know they can get away with basically anything. Not to mention that there are "maids" at school, too, and the way that some local children treat them is not lost on our kids.

And on and on. I remember hearing an expat with roots in two West-African countries tell me that after a few years in New York, they had decided to take their children (who where entering their teenage years) back home. I'm always careful not to throw all African countries in the same pot, but in this case, home WAS Africa to these people, because they felt that the values they trusted and wanted their children to grow up with could only be found back on the continent. Said children have now gone on to have extremely successful international careers, by the way.

A lot of expatriates decide to go home when their children become teenagers. Because it's hard to move them around - they become vocal, and friendships being so important to them, they understandably don't want to be changing places every two or three years. Do their parents also feel that at such an important stage of their lives, their children ought to be in a place that will instill the kind of cultural values that they themselves are attached to (as in the case of our friends, above) ? What to do when the parents do not have the choice ? Or, as in our family, when the parents themselves are culturally mixed ? I have a few years left to ponder that question.

In the meantime, I try to prepare myself for the fact that my children will turn out to be their own selves. This is an evidence that all parents struggle with at one time or another, but the parents of Third Culture Kids have that extra dimension to deal with : our children will grow up to become their own person according to their talents, their personality, AND the way their diverse cultural experiences shaped their ways of thinking, and behaving, too.

So, what do we do when we see our children embrace ways that don't quite resonate with us ?

I, for one, try to make a distinction between knee-jerk reactions caused by simple habit or taste (as in my example about understated vs. over-the-top fashion taste) and core issues that may impact negatively my children's sense of themselves and their own value.

In the last case, my approach will continue to be a mixture of explaining, lecturing, and generally throwing my weight around in every way that will help me make my point - with a lot of fumbling in between.

When dealing with simple cultural differences like eating habits, there is what is done outside, and what we do at home. Indians often use their fingers to eat, and we, at home, eat with a fork and a knife. But I'm also aware of the need for me to broaden my comfort zone so as to include my children's experience as much as I possibly can. What if one of my daughters were to become a fashion designer or an artist whose creations would wear the stamp and influence of her years in India ? Guess where Mom would be sitting, clapping and bursting with pride ? First row, of course, understated chic clothes and all.

I may need to gather a collection of mantras about letting go (it always comes down to that, doesn't it? This should be integrated into every curriculum across the world : a course on the art of letting go) to help with said broadening of my own comfort zone (a never-ending endeavor for serial expats like me.)

I have also pasted a quote by Harry Truman where I can see it often : " I have found the best way to give advice to your children is to find out what they want and then advise them to do it." This is a perfect example of a profoundly sound advice - if only it weren't so difficult to follow. So, I harbor the secret hope that by having the words around me, their full meaning will slowly penetrate my entire self until the day I wake up and discover I'm now able to implement its message.

Just don't hold your breath.

Inaugural Celebration in Hyderabad

Last night, Democrats Abroad threw an inaugural celebration with live coverage from the US at a local restaurant. Anyone was invited, regardless of citizenship or political inclination ( I like that). So, even half a world away, we were able to partake in the joy and beauty of that moment. A large majority of the women present (including myself) wore saris, which I found quite symbolic : expatriates from all cultures and countries (the US, of course, but also India, the UK, France, Denmark, Spain, and others I forget) coming together, with the women, and some men, wearing the dress of their host country. What a beautiful message !

I brought back a small poster :

 

And here I am, with friends:



And look at all these beautiful saris...


Thank you, Obama, for your powerful and inspiring inaugural speech. And good luck to you and your administration. Now, the hard work begins...

Obama is the new President of the USA

Amadi and I feel we MUST suspend the tour just long enough to mention how deeply happy we are, today. I had my 8 year old daughter play hooky from school, this morning, so she could witness the historical moment when Barack Obama was declared the new President of the United States. It was a very emotional moment, with tissues being passed around, especially when Obama delivered his speech and mentioned the 106-year-old lady who voted, after having witnessed all the changes that her country has gone through in her lifetime. 

Like my daughter (above in the white and red t-shirt), Obama had a white mother and a black father, and he's a Third Culture Kid who lived in Asia as a child. AND, as I mentioned with strong emphasis, his mother used to wake him up every morning at 4 AM to tutor him in English before he went to school. I make her work on her French when she comes back from school every single day, and she doesn't like it anymore than Obama did. Yes, I have no shame and I will use anything to make my self-imposed duty easier :)

Congratulations, Barack Obama !  And thank you for giving the world so much hope !

"Get off the bus!"

Two evenings ago, my husband brought me an envelope sent through the UN pouch, and I discovered an advance copy of Kimberly Willis Holt's last novel, to be published in August. I mentioned it before on this blog : Piper Reed, The Great Gypsy.

This is the second book in the series, and Kimberly signed it for me and my "Gypsies." I was totally thrilled and touched. What a lovely surprise ! I started reading it to my almost 8-year-old daughter, last night, and then finished reading it on my own.

Piper has a great voice, a really fun personality, and this totally childlike way of bringing everything back to her. Kimberly also has a great way of describing family dynamics, especially between siblings, and the dialogs are funny and very lively. It's the kind of book that one reads fast. Then, when it's over, you sigh happily and close the back cover with a smile on your face.

As an expat often on the move, I also empathized with Piper wondering "where is home?" And I loved her answer at the end of the book : " .... I decided I'd changed my mind about home. Home was not Pensacola, San Diego, Guam, or any of the other places we might have lived. In fact, home wasn't a particular place at all. Home was my family. Even if they didn't get my jokes sometimes."

As for those who don't know Piper well, yet, "Get Off the Bus" is her favorite expression and usually means that she's excited, happy or generally bowled over.

Thank you so much, Kimberly.

Kimberly Willis Holt speaks about Piper Reed Navy Brat

I’m so pleased to welcome [American] National Book Award author Kimberly Willis Holt for my very first interview on this blog.

Kimberly’s first novel, My Louisiana Sky, was an ALA Notable Book and an ALA Top Ten Best Book for Young Adults. It also received a Boston Globe—Horn Book Honor Award. Her second novel, When Zachary Beaver Came to Town, won the National Book Award. Her novel Keeper of the Night was a "Best Book of the Year" selection from School Library Journal, Kirkus and Bank Street College. Please, visit her website at http://www.kimberlywillisholt.com/as it is totally charming, original, and fun..

Kimberly now lives in Texas, but she was a Third Culture Kid who moved a lot during her childhood. This interview is going to focus on her last novel Piper Reed Navy Brat (illustrated by Christine Davenier, Henry Holt 2007) the theme of expatriation, and how Kimberly’s life as a TCK has shaped her and continues to shape her writing.

look at Piper, isn't she irresistible?

Kimberly, tell us about Piper Reed Navy Brat, and what prompted you to write this book.

I’m a Navy brat. My dad was a Navy chief and served in the Navy for twenty-one years. I was born during a hurricane in Pensacola, Florida. After that we lived in a village outside of Paris, France. The other places I lived were Norfolk, Virginia, Alexandria, Louisiana, Barrigada, Guam, Bremerton, Washington, Forest Hill, Louisiana and New Orleans, Louisiana. We also visited Barcelona, Spain and Japan. We were gypsies.

For the last ten years, my editor has wanted me to explore that military childhood in my writing. I resisted because I thought it would be too autobiographical. But one day I heard the carefree voice of a nine-year-old girl. “I’ve lived everywhere,” she said.

This may sound strange, but that's the way stories come to me.
The main character's voice speaks. Many times the first
statement they make becomes the first sentence in the book. I’ve learned to listen to those voices and follow them. The day I heard Piper’s voice was the day I started writing the book that eventually became Piper Reed Navy Brat.

What, from your nomadic childhood, would you say had the most lasting impact on your adult life?

I was a shy girl, but being forced to be the new girl so often made me adaptable to many situations. That can be a huge asset in life.

Do you feel it was a privileged life, or not? And why?

I lived more places by the time I was ten than many adults only dream about going to. I’ve learned about other cultures first hand. In France, I attended kindergarten and learned to speak and read the language. On Guam, I attended fiestas with my Chamorro friends and learned to dance the cha-cha. During my high school years, my friends and I would sneak off to the French Quarter. Yep, I have had a privileged life. Not one with a lot of money, but a life filled with rich experiences.

If you had to live your childhood as a military kid again, what would you like to be different? What would you say was the best part about that life? And what was the worst, the hardest?

If I had my military childhood to do over again, I’d try to look at each move as a new rich experience. And I’d stay in touch with the friends I made along the way. The best part about that life was learning about other cultures. The hardest part was leaving people I cared about behind. As a child I usually saw my grandparents once every couple of years. But I’ve been fortunate to get to spend more time with them as an adult. All four of my grandparents were living in my mid-thirties and two are here today. So I made up for those years that I didn’t get to see them as often as my cousins did.

I read somewhere that you have two sisters, like Piper Reed. Would you say their experience was the same as yours? Or do they have different feelings about their nomadic childhood?

When people would ask my middle sister, the inspiration of Piper, where she was from, she’d proudly answer, “I’m from nowhere.” I wanted to be from somewhere. But Alicia embraced that life. She was fearless and made friends easily.

My other sister is eleven years younger than me. She was six when my dad retired from the Navy. While I attended college in Louisiana, the rest of the family moved to Texas. My youngest sister has lived in the same zip code most of her life. Her children attend the schools she attended. In a way, she had the childhood I wanted.

Any advice for parents of TCKs that you feel might help smooth things out for their nomadic children?

Make every destination an adventure, but make it home, too. My mom turned every place we lived into a home. She made pillows for the couches, wallpapered the walls, and planted flowers in the garden. My parents allowed us to have pets on Guam even though we weren’t allowed to take them when we left. We had cats, rabbits and turtles. My dad built a tree house for us. Because of my parents, I would forget that we were going to move.

At the same time we learned about the areas we lived in, usually on Sunday drives. I think one of the worst modern luxuries is a television in a vehicle. We looked out the window and learned about the world. That was our entertainment. That and playing silly car games or singing songs off-key.

My parents still cook foods that they learned to make while we lived in different destinations. My mom learned to make spaghetti from some Italian neighbors we had in Paris. We ate it every week, growing up. My parents sometimes cook lumpia and pancet that they learned to make on Guam. Fried rice is common in the states now, but there was a time that it wasn’t. When we lived in my parents’ home town for a while, my mom made fried rice for a church potluck dinner. She called it Guam Fried Rice. Well at the next church potluck dinner, half a dozen versions of the dish spread out among the chicken and dumplings and pink-eyed purple hull peas. My mom had introduced Guam culture to Forest Hill, Louisiana. That’s what moving around a lot does—it makes the world smaller.

You seem to have a pretty settled life nowadays. Do you ever get itchy feet, the need to go abroad again?

All the time! I love to travel and do. My daughter was raised in Texas, but she is aware of the world beyond this state. I think my military childhood is part of the reason why. My husband also traveled a lot as a boy. By the time he attended high school, he’d been to every state except Hawaii and Alaska. So he, also, knows the importance of travel.

When did you know you wanted to become a writer?

I’ve wanted to be a writer since I was twelve. I wrote a poem about a Viet Nam soldier. My science teacher encouraged me to show it to the creative writing teacher. He liked it too, and told me he hoped I’d enroll in his class the next year. I started the day feeling like a misfit and I ended it feeling very special. That’s the power of teachers. I was also lucky enough to have an eighth grade English who taught us to journal. Those teachers made me feel like I could be a writer. I’ve tried to find them in recent years, but I’ve had no luck. So if you will allow me to give a shout out to Mr. Kimmel, Mr. Norseth and Ms. Pratt—Thank you!

Would you tell us a bit about how it all happened?

After college, I did a lot of other jobs—radio news director, advertising, marketing a water park, working as a terrible interior decorator. Still words were a part of my life. I journaled and wrote long letters. Then on June 15, 1994, I made a commitment to be a writer. It’s been a wonderful journey.

So far, you've written novels set in Louisiana, Texas, on the island of Guam, and now, in Florida – all places that you know well. Do you find that you choose the setting of a book before the story comes to you? Would you tell us how that works for you?

Most of the time, the setting comes with the story. I hear the voice of the character. They tell me who they are and about their dilemma. As I begin, I usually know the ending. It’s the journey to the ending that I have to discover. That’s where the fun and the fear lives.

Setting is important to me. I try to make it a character in the book. I think setting shapes people. People are not the same everywhere. We may have universal feelings. We all experience joy and sadness, but place can give us distinct traits. And even that can effect what we view as joyful or sad. So it’s important to me as a writer to get the setting right. When I wrote Keeper of the Night, I returned to Guam to research. I couldn’t rely on the fact that I’d lived there for two years.

Will we read more Piper Reed adventures?

Yes. The second book, Piper Reed, The Great Gypsy comes out in August, followed by the third book in August 2009. And there may be more adventures. I hope so. In that way, I’m a bit like Piper Reed. I want to spread “Get off the bus!” around the world.

Thank you so much, Kimberly, for doing me the honor of stopping here to answer these few questions.

Thank you, Katia. It’s been my pleasure.

Well, that's it. Annette Gulati, you are the lucky winner who'll get a signed copy of Piper Reed Navy Brat. Please, visit Kimberly on her website and send her your mailing address mentioning how you won, so she can send it to you.

Third Culture Kids

As I prepare my interview for Kimberly Willis Holt, I think I should have a post about the theme of expatriation, and what it means for our global children, these children who accompany their parents into other cultures : the Third Culture Kids.

"A Third Culture Kid (TCK) is a person who has spent a significant part of his or her developmental years outside the parents' culture. The TCK builds relationships to all of the cultures, while not having full ownership in any. Although elements from each culture are assimilated into the TCK's life experience, the sense of belonging is in relationship to others of similar background."

David C. Pollock & Ruth E. Van Reken
Third Culture Kids

Wikipedia has an interesting article about TKCs.

One statement fascinates me because I find it to be totally true: "TCKs have more in common with one another, regardless of nationality, than they do with non-TCK's from their own country."

My daughter's best friend, whom I mentioned in my last post, came to visit us in France, last summer. In the TGV that was bringing her to the south of the country, they met another British family en route for their holiday destination. As the two families exchanged the usual introductory sentences, my daughter's friend's first question to the other children was : "So, how many countries have you lived in?" The other children looked at each other, a little puzzled. For my daughter's friend, the question was totally spontaneous and natural. In the short 7 years of her life, she's already lived in Australia, Singapore, India and now the UK. She was simply expressing what she knows.

My own seven-year-old has lived in New York, in Nigeria, in India, and who knows where we'll be going next - well, hopefully, we will sometime soon. During those years, she visited France, Spain, Haiti, New York and Florida in the US, Benin, Morocco, India and Sri Lanka. She left friends in Nigeria, some who then moved to Indonesia. She has friends and family in France, Spain, Haiti and the US. She now has friends in the UK as well. And that global network of hers will continue to grow along with her. She also understands, although still reluctantly, and definitely not without pain, that her life is a lot about saying good bye. As I mentioned in my last post, even my 3-year-old knows about it, now. This also happens to be the theme of a couple of picture book manuscripts I have, sitting in slush piles here and there.

Of course, the good thing is that with the Internet, Windows Live Messenger and Skype, it is easier now than ever to keep in touch with people almost anywhere in the world. Also, studies seem to show that most TCKs do rather well in life. Still, it's not easy, and the downsides of that life should not be disregarded, nor considered lightly.

To end on a humorous note, I found the following statements on several blogs and websites. I had to laugh, because practically all of them apply to us.

You know you are a Third Culture Kid when:

- You can't answer the question "where are you from?"
- You speak two (or more) languages but can't spell in them
- "Where are you from?" has more than one reasonable answer
- You feel odd being in the ethnic majority
- You have the urge to move to a new place every couple of years
- You have a time zone map next to your telephone
- You go into culture shock upon returning to your "home" country
- You flew before you could walk
- You have a passport, but no driver's license
- You speak with authority on the quality of airline travel
- Your life story uses the phrase "Then we went to..." five times or more
- You don't know where home is
- You run into someone you know at every airport
- You sort your friends by continent
- Your dorm room/apartment/living room looks a little like a museum with all the "exotic" things you have around.
- You automatically take off your shoes as soon as you get home
- National Geographic (OR THE TRAVEL CHANNEL) makes you homesick.
- Your second major is in a foreign language you already speak
- You feel that multiple passports would be appropriate.
- You go to Pizza Hut or Wendy's and you wonder why there's no chili sauce
- Your high school memories include those days that school was cancelled due to tear gas, riots, demonstrations, or bomb threats.
- Half of your phone calls are unintelligible to those around you.
- You know the geography of the rest of the world, but you don't know the geography of your own country.
- You realize it really is a small world, after all.

Much needed update on things to come...

It's been far too long since my last post, BUT I'm glad to report that I now see the end of the tunnel ! Translation is actually finished. I'm rereading the whole thing, and it is going smoothly as well. Almost there !

Plus, there is much in the pipeline...

I entered a contest to win a book, the other day, and I WON ! Little me, who never, ever wins anything. But the best of the best is that I discovered an author who grew up as an expat and a military brat. Kimberly Willis Holt won the National Book Award for her novel, When Zachary Beaver Came to Town. That's the book I won, by the way. And now, she has another novel out with a global child as the protagonist. Piper Reed Navy Brat.

Kimberly is holding a blog tour, and, AND, AND, she kindly agreed to stop here on Thursday to answer a few questions. How fitting that my first author interview should be with an author who had the kind of childhood that inspires much of my writing !

As life would have it, this happened on the day that my little one - 3 and half - had to say good bye to her very best friend of two years - these two were truly inseparable from the moment they could communicate with a few words. The family is leaving Hyderabad and moving to London, and I feel so sad for my daughter, because I know it will be hard for her. This is the downside of expatriate life. There are many wonderful advantages : we get to travel a lot, we live in different countries, and we experience different cultures as well. It's very enriching and I don't imagine life any other way anymore. But, as for everything, it's not all about plane tickets, and exotic destinations ; being an expatriate also means that every two, three or four years, we have to move again. We pack everything up - actually, that's pretty good because we then get rid of all the junk we manage to pile up even in so short a time - change house, get used to a new environment, to new languages, new people and new ways of doing things, of saying them, of expressing them. And, just as important, it also means that we have to say good bye to people. I'm an adult, and my social skills are rather poor, anyway, so I'm used to that. But my heart breaks every time my children have to part with their friends. My older daughter went through that when we moved from Nigeria to India, and again last spring, when her best friend left Hyderabad. And now, it's the little one.

So, how serendipitous that I should discover Kimberly Willis Holt just now, as she's about to start a blog tour to promote her last novel, which covers precisely that theme. I'm so thrilled that a book out there is recounting this type of experiences. I cant wait to read Kimberly's thoughts about it.