Something I’ve been asked many times over the years is ‘Isn’t it difficult moving to a new place and starting again?’
Well that depends on which thing you’re looking at. Yes and no.
When you’ve made up your mind that you’re going to pack up and move to a new place, be it another country or just a new city in the same country, your reason for making the move will be a huge factor in the Yes/No category. So does your level of attachment to the place you’re leaving. If you have a tight tie to the place you’re living in now, then severing those ties will be difficult, no matter how green the grass is at the new destination. Leaving friends and family behind can be painful if you’re used to seeing each other constantly.
I’m the emotional equivalent of barbed wire so leaving things behind has never been a deciding factor in my moves. Don’t get me wrong; I miss my friends and family sometimes but I can stand alone without them if I need to, even while I sob into my wine.
If you’re moving because you want a change of scenery/found your dream job/following the love of your life/want a better quality of life, then no, it’s not difficult. Maybe a tad uncomfortable, but not difficult. You have to get comfortable being uncomfortable.
When you’re making a change as drastic as emigrating/relocating, then you already know going in, that certain things are going to change so those things are not unexpected. The job, home, neighbourhood, people, culture, transport, language and possibly foods are all going to be different in the new place.
It’s the little things you don’t expect that blow holes in your resolve. I moved from an English-speaking country, to another English-speaking country, then again to a third English-speaking country and the language changed completely. I didn’t expect that and it was a difficult transition initially in each place. What was Maizena in one place, was cornflour in the next place and cornstarch in the third. Going to the grocery store in a new place and attempting to explain to some poor unsuspecting individual what you’re looking for is painful. Does it come in a box, tin, packet, what colour is the packaging? I DON’T KNOW!! A roll was a bap and then a bun. A multitude of things have been lost in translation at each stop.
While it’s perfectly acceptable to ‘bum a fag’ from someone in England, you’ll probably be sued in the US for using that terminology to ask someone for a cigarette. I asked the receptionist at work for a plaster and it was met with ‘like plaster to put on the walls?’ No. To put on the finger that’s bleeding all over your desk. ‘Oh you mean a Band-aid.’ Sure, if that’s the technical term, then yes, one of those please.
Something as simple as going to the store for bread and milk was dead easy in SA. Do you want white or brown bread? Sliced/unsliced? Milk is fat-free, 2% or full-cream.
Well…….. stateside it takes 95 decisions to pick up those 2 items. Bread you say…? Well lady, do you want white, brown, rye, wholegrain, multi-grain, gluten-free, square, round, bagel, bun, pita, herbs/no herbs, ciabatta, long bun, round bun, pre-sliced, cheese-topped and which cheese, low-cal, low-carb, artisanal? There’s a whole aisle just for bread, go nuts. Take your time, no rush.
Milk…… dear God. Do you want fat-free, whole-milk, almond milk (sweetened, unsweetened, flavoured, unflavoured), goat milk, soy milk, vitamin D, 2%, skimmed, semi-skimmed, organic, in a glass bottle, plastic container, what size do you need that container or would you prefer a carton?, coffee-creamer because there’s hazelnut, French vanilla, chocolate, mint, Irish creme, mocha, salted caramel, pumpkin (yes you read that right!), Italian creme, creme brulee, or just original if you’re undecided.
Bread and milk alone have caused complete melt-downs at the grocery store because all I want is standard army-issue bread and milk. And if you’re also buying cheese, seriously, get that first because by the time you’ve made a decision on that, your milk will have passed its sell-by date so pick that up fresh on the way out. Some cheeses age really well so that’s an added bonus as it will age perfectly while you decide on the bread you’re going to put it on.
Not knowing which store sells what is another thing that’s been especially difficult with each move. Finding an apartment is child’s play when measured against the mayhem of finding a place to buy a saucepan.
Thankfully SA and UK were both Commonwealth countries so quite a bit of their terminology was the same but that’s not to say there wasn’t confusion along the line. A flap-jack in SA is a crumpet in UK and a UK flap-jack is a crunchie in SA. A scone in UK is a biscuit stateside and there’s honest to God no substitute for what an American calls a scone. Scones do not come in triangles and absolutely DO NOT have corners!
Getting stateside and seeing biscuits and gravy on the menu made me puke in my mouth a little because who the hell puts gravy on a chocolate-chip biscuit?! Which leads to biscuits being cookies, scones being biscuits and biscuits with gravy being surprisingly good.
Ordering chips stateside only to be asked ‘what flavour chips would you like ma’am?’ Uh…. hot on a plate, what other flavour could there possibly be?! Oh you mean fries…….. Sure. Yes. Those. A whole plate full. Thanks. Do you have vinegar? *blank stare* So that’s a no on the vinegar then.
Tomato and basil crisps…… Wrong. On all 3 words. Tomayto and baysil chips is what I was meant to ask for.
Those things will break your brain when you relocate so seriously, be prepared because this is the type of stuff they DON’T tell you when you clear Customs at the plane station. It will be your greatest challenge and triumph once you master it.
In preparation of my intended move home to Scotland, I’ve started following multiple Scottish pages on Facebook and let me tell ya, scored top marks on a quiz on ‘which of these words do you understand.’ I’m prepared this time. I can almost speak fluent crazy so it’s only a matter of finding a job and a city to call home now.
Picking a country, packing your bags, booking a ticket and organising a lift to the airport is simple but be warned: there be madness past those gates.
