Ten

Ten years ago I started this blog. I quit my job. I packed my things into a massive truck, bought a plane ticket, and left Austin. It was all very planned, plotted out. I spent a month in Rio, then moved to Mozambique.

Then reconnected with Rico. Lived in Chimoio. Moved to Maputo. Got cats. Made amazing blog friends. Grew to hate development work. Got married. Started selling jewelry. Lost a cat and got more cats. Left Mozambique. Changed careers.

Moved to Point Richmond, with my mom as neighbor. Sold Casa Rosa. Went to art school. Set up a studio. Started a gallery. Witnessed Rico become a contractor and furniture designer. Attended Rico's citizenship ceremony. Spent some quality time with my dad. Made plans for Emilia to move. Got a tattoo.

It has been one hell of a decade. Beijos a todos.

What's been going on lately

A lot, really. The gallery (the showroom is now a gallery, btw. linguistic obsessions...) Anyhow, the gallery has been on several people's radar lately, including the Chamber of Commerce. I had a visit from Jamie the other day, which was really nice. She is a big fan of Kina, so was super excited to see Emi's work in the gallery.

 I've been heavily involved in organizing a community event called Point to Point. We are reinventing and reimagining our community, connecting the (red) dots, and having a lot of fun with pop-ups, performances, collaborations, and impromptu everything. Oh, look! I have red dots in my gallery already! Find out more here. Join us if you're in town!

I've been making new work. Here's a piece called "You make me happy when skies are gray." It is composed of repurposed brooches and treasure components found in my grandmother's drawers in Italy and collected as a child, a woven golden grass disc (capim dourado, Brasil), and a copper and sterling silver backplate and prongs. It is a brooch and also a wall piece.

I've also been working on a custom project. It has to do with polo and voyages and championships. It's been a lot, and I just finished it, and I feel relieved and excited and tired.

We went to Takoma Park (Washington, DC) to visit our very best group of Moz friends (minus a few good ladies and gentlemen, of course, but geography and babies make it hard.) Still, a reunion happened.

Here we are, being silly on the street before dinner. My friend Kyle joined us later, an old friend who I met in college (the first time around) in Albuquerque. It's good to be with old friends. Not "old"friends...Old. old. OLD. OLDOLDOLD. WHATEVER. You know.

London-São Paulo-Scotland-Geneva-Maputo-DC-Sweden-Solomons-Cariocas-New Mexico-California selfie 

People drank a lot of tea. And gin. And ate lots of cake and oysters. 

We had some silly times.

Some fancy times.

Some happy times.

It really was. And it was the best.

Africa to the Bay

I have now lived at Casa Cali for as long as I lived in Mozambique. Four-and-a-half years. Combining both places, nearly a decade.

I think about the fact that I moved to Chimoio when I was 23 and it blows my mind. So ambitious and precocious and confident and arrogant. So open to radical change. So unfazed by geography.

Between then and now I got married, created a lucrative freelance career for myself, left said career, became a homeowner, went to art school, became a metalsmith, learned how to parallel park, set up a collaborative studio space, and now - most recently - with lots of help from lots of people, opened the showroom.

I also felt my wanderlust and expat identity transform into something more grounded, content to stay in one place and invest in that life as a solid base from which to explore.

In many ways, the process of making art feels like living abroad. It can be frustrating and lonely and full of fear. It is continually humbling. There are lots of tears. And yet it is also enlightening, inspiring, and an unfailing way to get to know myself better.

These days life is grand and it is also very hard. All of the aspects of being a self-employed artist, an entrepreneur, a collaborator, a mentor, a boss that I knew would be a challenge have been just that. But in a good way. In a growing way. In a way that makes me remember every day that it's the cumulative and sustained efforts that make a difference. That Rome wasn't built in a day. That it's okay for things to be continually in flux.

The reality of my latest leap is still sinking in. I write this from the most calming and beautiful space imaginable, in a community that I am wholly part of. My fledgling business is flourishing. Rico is here helping me close for the day. We will likely go next door to the wine bar and have a glass of something delicious before going home. Then I will cook, we will relax with the cats, and tomorrow I have the chance to do it all again.

Patrice Lumumba

I was just hit with a gut-wrenching pang of saudades for Maputo after looking at this blog post on Avenida Patrice Lumumba by Brandie at Out and About Africa. I remember that street so well, flanked with dingy modernist apartment blocks, acacias and jacarandas, and a sidewalk that had certainly seen better days. I used to walk on Patrice Lumumba to go from our flat to the Centro Cultural Franco Moçambicano, one of the better spots in Maputo to see local and international art exhibitions and films, not to mention weekend parties with live music.

Something about seeing Brandie's photo made me miss being there so much. When I think about Mozambique in general, big-picture terms I don't have such nostalgia, it's pretty easy to consider it a well-lived chapter in my past and remember the exciting new road I'm on here in California.

But when I think about the specifics - the roundabout where Hotel Cardoso is located at the beginning of Av. Patrice Lumumba (and what was that other street called, the one with what used to be Vila Itália and then became Tapas restaurant - the Austrian ambassador's residence is on the corner, and if you walk a bit further you get to the snack bar called A Francesinha...this is driving me crazy, as Rico and I lived for a month on that street in our banana client's empty flat...the picture in my mind is *so clear* yet I can't for the life of me think of the street name!) - the little Indian grocery on Av. 24 de Julho and Av. Mártires da Machava where the owners used to live in Dallas Ft. Worth and drove a Buick they'd imported back into Mozambique (I can still see the layout of the closely-spaced shelves in my head, full of Black Cat peanut butter and Ceres juices and Salticrax crackers and feta cheese from Clover).

It's these little vignettes of daily life that really hit me, and for a brief moment I'd give anything to go back.

La Vida Expatica #6: The Place I Once Called Home Yet Never Truly Belonged

I had lunch with my best friend from high school today. She is due to have her first baby on Tuesday. It was incredibly nice to see her, even if just for a few hours, and the Thai crepes place (how's that for fusion!) we went to in Fremont was divine. I had the peanut chicken crepe and it totally satisfied my craving for spicy comfort food.

M. is my closest friend here in the Bay Area, despite the fact that we haven't really spent a lot of time together since we were 16 (I moved to Brazil to do a student exchange that year, and we subsequently lost touch for nearly a decade). Ironically, life brought both of us to California. She and her husband fled Hurricane Katrina and resettled here. Rico and I, as you know, moved here just over a year ago for his work, to be near my mom, and so I could go to school at CCA.

M. lives over an hour away, but we manage to see each other once every couple of months. I deeply miss having girlfriends nearby, and am reminded of how wonderful that kindred connection can be every time I see M.

Today she asked if I miss living in Mozambique. The answer is yes and no.

Yes a thousand times over to missing our friends, our social life, our global nomad community. The quick bonds formed with people from faraway lands, the dinner parties, the comfort in knowing that you are sharing a common experience. I miss the road trips, the Sunday lunches by the Indian Ocean, the animated discussions about how - and if - development work can really make an impact, about why projects fail, about why we were all there in the first place. Many an existential crisis was sorted out over gin-and-tonics and king prawns.

I have never felt so at home with a group of people in my life. I miss that immensely, the feeling of belonging, of understanding and feeling understood.

I miss many other things, too. The view of the Vila Algarve from our balcony, the tiles crumbling a bit more with each passing day. The streets lined with flowering trees, and the way I started tracking the seasons by what was in bloom: jacarandas, red acacias, yellow acacias. I miss catching bursts of the animated chats had by our building guards, full of whoops and hollers and shrill shrieks of excitement to punctuate the stories being told. I miss Dona Lidia's laugh. Zeca's warmth and reliability. The humility, kindness and hospitality shown by so many Mozambicans. The rich local culture. The mini global melting pot that is Maputo, and increasingly the rest of the country. I miss the pool at Hotel Terminus, site of many a sun-drenched, lazy afternoon, tanning and eating sandes de galinha maionese. I miss the piri-piri, obviously. I could make it at home in the blender, but somehow it's not the same as out of a small communal container on a wobbly restaurant table. I miss the sunrise at 4:30 in the morning in the summer. The nights spent dancing or listening to live music. The markets. I miss bumping into friends nearly everywhere we went. I miss Mozambique because it holds such a special spot in my heart as the place where Rico and I met each other again, fell in love, and started our life together as husband and wife.

Despite all of these wonderful things, there are many I don't miss: the in-your-face poverty, the inefficiency and inescapable bureaucracy, the lack of customer service, witnessing the abuse and exploitation of maids/waiters/workers and realizing that for many well-off Mozambicans that kind of treatment is acceptable, the exploitation of locals by foreigners and foreign companies, the sensation that you were always getting somewhat ripped off because you were white or a foreigner, the often false or tense relationships with the Mozambicans, the finely-tuned hate of "the stare" - an empty-eyed look accompanied by silence that became par for the course in many interactions...the frustration that the Moz experience wasn't what I'd expected - that in many aspects I'd become the typical expat I so swore I'd never be, the sad realization that I, too, looked at people in "local" vs. "expat" categories, that I was overflowing with cynicism, that I continued to do a job I didn't believe in for way too long - one of the motivations being a fat paycheck (the same fat paycheck to international consultants that was so often the topic of our rants on what was wrong with the development sector), the hypocrisy - my own and that of others...the ever-present shadow of depression...the corruption of government officials and others in positions of power, the fleets of white Mercedes and the massive mansions, the decision to give bribes to police or otherwise grease the wheels of the system - and wondering exactly how fast that particular slope would get too slippery to be controllable...the inability to ever be anonymous or feel truly comfortable living in the country.

Some days I am all the way on the "dying of saudades" end of the spectrum; other days I still feel very cynical and am glad that we left when we did. It is all very gray, even as the passing of time affords me a wiser, more objective perspective through which to view our experiences in Mozambique.

Three Times the Love

Nina, Pria and Mano watching me cook. My heart just melts every time I see these sweet cats, and I am so happy we brought them over from Mozambique. The Amaro family just wouldn't be complete without them.

La Vida Expatica #5: Reverse Culture Shock

My greatest fear upon relocating to California after nearly five years in Mozambique was that I would suffer from some wicked culture shock. I was afraid I'd have such a hard time adapting to life here that I'd become somewhat of a social outcast. In some ways, what I worried about came to pass - I do feel very, very different from most of my 'peers' here - but it's not depressing or anxiety-inducing or something I'm out to change. It just is.

My life's path has shaped me in a way that, while I've become the consummate chameleon and am able to adapt and fit in anywhere, it also means that I never really fit in anywhere at all. The best way to describe it, perhaps, is that I now feel slightly foreign in the US. And surprisingly, it doesn't really bother me at all (which was, in truth, what I really feared - being unhappy with the culture shock I might experience, not the culture shock itself).

Here are a few of the "differences" I've most noted about life in California - the positive and the negative:

- The postal system works reliably and for a reasonable price. Being able to send and receive mail with confidence is something very much appreciated.

- Everything is cheap. Food, clothing, shoes, electronics, entertainment, jewelry supplies, books - you name it. Prices are even better now that the wonderful world of online shopping is at my fingertips and immediately available.

- It's a bit of a 'returning from the developing world' cliché, but the variety and subsequent choices one is faced with as a consumer can be crippling. What brand of toothpaste to buy, what breakfast cereal to eat, what shade of lipstick to wear - I was so accustomed to not having much choice at all, I get overwhelmed quite easily when faced with all the lovely options here. Ironically, this is one of the reasons I love COSTCO so much - yes, it's a crowded warehouse where you buy a year's supply of toilet paper or whatever, but usually there are only one or two options per type of good. Want a 12-pack of canned tomatoes? Great, there is one kind available. Need shampoo? Choose a giant vat from generic Kirkland brand or a name-brand competitor.

- People frequently comment that I have an accent. Even now, nearly a year after we moved from Mozambique, I still get the questions. "But where are you from originally?"

- I love being able to be anonymous. Walk down the street, enter shops, drive the car, go work out, go to the movies...whatever. This place is so diverse you really have to try to get some attention.

- California knows how to embrace diversity, but judging from the young 'uns I've met at school, much is left to be desired in terms of embracing basic education. I do not mean to play into an 'uneducated Americans' stereotype, but it seems that much is lacking as far as math, reading, spelling and general culture go. I am increasingly appreciative of the education I had growing up, and of the education that is so appreciated in other places because it truly is the key to getting ahead.

- So much concrete. So many highways. So much urban development.

- The Bay Area is definitely a hot spot for liberal thinking, but I find myself amazed at how radical and uniformed much of said liberalism can be. Every time I see a 'Free Tibet' or 'Not on Our Watch' sticker it makes me want to let out a cynical laugh. I really want to ask the person who's plastered that on their car or house window if they truly know what's going on in those places, or if they've decided to support the cause because it seems the 'right' thing to do in the face of all the injustice happening in those oppressed, far-away countries.

- Even in this mecca of recycling and reuse, I am struck by how much is wasted. Ziploc baggies are used once and thrown away. Food is bought and left to waste in the refrigerator. Paper or plastic plates are used at parties, then tossed. I am not immune to the convenience of the trash can. It's a daily battle to wash the used Ziploc or wash the real plates instead of caving and using plastic. It's so easy to slip back into old habits. I'm not preachy about any of this, and I try not to judge. It sadly seems inevitable that there is a trade-off between conservation and convenience.

- People love their dogs like nowhere I've ever seen before. I feel like I'm missing an arm sometimes because we don't have a dog.

- Eggs are refrigerated here. Always. In store and at home. I wonder what peoples' reaction would be if they knew I've been eating room-temperature eggs for the last several years and never once got sick...

- It's really, really, really difficult to get on board with the health system here. I know this is a complex subject, but to someone who's just come from the "outside" and not had regular health insurance for quite a while, the system seems very messed up. I find it absurd that I can have a consultation with a dermatologist and they can't tell me up front how much it will cost, that I have to wait for weeks until the insurance company determines how much of this mystery amount they will cover, and then I am billed for the rest. We are transitioning to a different plan now, one with co-pays, so hopefully this will no longer be an issue. Still, how backwards! Also, I've yet to see a doctor who I truly believe cares about me or my affliction. It's all so impersonal, I feel very unmotivated to go get non-emergency medical attention because it seems I spend money for generic advice. I'm thankful we have doctors in Rico's family, because they are the ones I turn to when I'm feeling ill.

- Not exactly a news flash, but it's amazing how Spanish is truly the new universal language of the US. There's not a day that goes by without me hearing or speaking Spanish. It's the language of our kitchens, construction crews, shop attendants, bus drivers, social workers, teachers, house cleaners, city planners, small business owners, international executives. Shame mine is all muddled with Portuguese these days. :)

- Poor Brazil suffers from quite the heavy stereotyping here in the US. On multiple occasions, upon hearing I'm married to a Brazilian, women have asked me, "So, is he really hot?" Seriously! They all have the image of a samba-dancing, soccer-playing, dark and tan lover. I tell them, "Yes, my husband is hot, but not the way you imagine. He works in investment management and loves sailing and comes from a Portuguese family." They look at me like my answer does not compute.

- I really miss some of the little luxuries of life in Moz, namely having Dona Lídia do my ironing and go for shop runs to purchase milk and eggs, and having the building guards available to help me parallel park (the hand gestures showing which way I should turn the wheel were priceless!) and carry heavy loads up the stairs. On the other hand, I love having a Roomba. :)

These are a few of my observations. This list is incomplete and ever-evolving.

I'd love to hear the thoughts of expats who have recently relocated, be it to a third country or "home". Did you experience reverse culture shock? What were the aspects you found most challenging/entertaining/interesting?

Casa Cali

After a marathon trip that involved two back-to-back 11-hour flights and a 12-hour layover in the mix, Rico and I made it to California two days ago. I'm incredibly grateful to report that, after an equally gruelling trip, our three cats made it across the world as well. They arrived soon after us, and despite some initial shock and yowling about, everyone is nicely settled in and feeling at home.

Rico made it through his immigration interview without incident, and received a hearty, "Welcome to America!" from the attending officer. Our luggage arrived on time, the few cargo shipments we sent (sculptures, paintings) seem to be on track, and nothing serious was lost or damaged in the move. In all the international travel I've done throughout the years, I can honestly say I've never had a trip go quite so smoothly.

Casa Cali is gorgeous, much more cozy than Rico and I had expected from the photos. We have wooden floors, a spacious kitchen, two decks and a stunning view across the bay where, on clear days, we can see the San Rafael bridge. We also have a mature garden that I look forward to learning how to make flourish. We've met some of the neighbors, and are getting to know the basics of our new place of residence (i.e. how to get on the freeway, where to go for a jog, how to get to the nearest BART station, where to find the bank and supermarket).

Rico and I are in the midst of the low-level craziness that is moving into a new house, unpacking and trying to establish a routine. We had the requisite American experience of going to COSTCO yesterday, which was quite a trip. We've been trying to figure out what all still needs to be purchased, what can wait, how we will arrange the furniture, which room will be my atelier and which will be Rico's office. It's a bit exhausting, but I am absolutely loving this process.

I will likely be posting infrequently for the next week or so as we get settled, but please know that I fully intend to continue blogging, and that I also will keep writing about Mozambique and our experiences in Maputo.

Lasts

I'm starting to play the "lasts game", whereby multiple parts of my day are classified as the LAST time I will do something during this chapter of Maputo: walk up the Caracol, eat pizza from Mundos, cook in my kitchen with my collection of spices, go to the wood market, wake up on a Wednesday morning.

Of course, I can always come back for a visit and do all of these things and more, but thinking about our departure in this manner actually grounds me and helps make it real. Despite all the premature pining for friends and sensory memories, can you believe that it's still not completely hit me that we are moving? It does in flashes, but for the most part it still feels like each day will lead to the next just as it has for the last 4.5+ years. I can't fathom quite yet that one week from today we will be arriving in the San Francisco airport, 3 cats and a whole lot of luggage in tow, and that we will go pick up our new car and drive to our new house.

Craziness.

I've got a very busy day ahead of me, so I'd best get on it. Despite the pain of waking up at 5:30, it's been lovely to have a quiet bit of the morning to myself to drink coffee, play with the cats, blog and listen to the songbirds call in the sun.

A New Chance

What a strange day. Busy. A little crazy. Full of procrastination, even though this is the home stretch.

In the morning I went to pick up some checks from translation work I did for a local University, then spent over an hour at the bank trying to cash said checks. Nothing was wrong, it was just a slooooooow process.

I came home, ate some delicious mexican lasagna leftovers from my moment of culinary inspiration last night, then got to work. I have many things pending:

- Maize Mills Business Plan and Feasibility Study
- Translating University's web site text
- Translating project documents from a Malaria Project
- About 12 outstanding custom jewelry orders

And, of course, packing. And socializing. And lounging in the sun.

Despite all that's going on (today is 8 days to Cali), my day was totally overshadowed by an email from someone who was part of my life 10 years ago. A lot of water is under that bridge, but suffice to say this person was once very close to me and that things ended on a particularly sour, hurtful note.

Over 2 years ago, in June 2007, on a late night up alone while visiting my Dad, I was struck with the desire to write an email to this person. All I wanted to do was come clean, apologize for the not insignificant part I played in the disastrous end to the relationship. I wrote for over an hour, spelling out all of the words and actions I regretted, trying to convey my most sincere apologies even though so much time had passed.

I sent that fateful email, and never heard back. At first I was anxious, hoping for a response, but then after a few months I let it go. Recognition of my olive branch would have been nice, but at the end of the day the cathartic process of writing out my regrets, accepting them, and forgiving myself was much more important.

Today I received an unexpected email from this person from my past. I couldn't believe it. (S)he asked if I had time to chat, that (s)he was plagued by a sense of guilt and ingratitude regarding the period when we were part of each other's lives. I was blown away.

I gathered the courage to ask if (s)he'd received my message over two years ago. (S)he said no. So I resent it, knowing for sure that this time, my apology will be read. I admit, I'm beside myself with nerves wondering what this person's response will be, but I'm trying to remind myself that the truly important part of this exercise has already passed - forgiveness of self for decisions and actions past. The fact that I had the opportunity to make sure this person receives my apology is simply icing on the cake.

Until We Meet Again Soon

It's hit me.

I'm not certain what triggered this heavy, sad feeling, whether it was the come-down from a delicious mid-week escape to a beach cottage in Bilene with friends, or an unexpected email awaiting my return that took me back in time 10 years and made me reflect upon previous places, previous goodbyes, previous me's.

The uncertainty of what's to come, though sometimes daunting, is definitely not what makes me anxious about moving. I love change, thrive on it, really. I like knowing that my next months and years will be completely different from the last ones, that I will be in a new city, living in a different home, with blues and lilac-grays on the walls instead of terracotta and brown, blueberries for breakfast instead of mangoes, keeping my reinvented self busy with a new job, fresh passions, undiscovered friendships. These are the things I think about when faced with change. I rarely get eaten up by the more practical bits like, "How will I find a new job?" or "Who will cat sit when we travel?" or "How long can I live on my savings if everything goes wrong?" I mean, of course I think about those things - I am a planner at heart - but I don't dwell upon them. They don't really bother me. I believe things will fall into place, somehow, sometime. Until then, I know I'll be okay.

What bothers me is all that I leave behind. The friends, the lifestyle, the particular smells and sights of a city and a home, the language, the foods, the late nights out dancing that sometimes, though not quite often enough, end up with a sunrise and a coffee, high heels in hand.

I believe the serial expat becomes a master at making friends in a record amount of time. I suppose it's either that or become a recluse, which is certainly a valid option (Lord knows I love staying at home with cats, tea, my jewelry supplies and maybe a little trashy tv to round it off). Still, I am definitely one to establish my friendships quickly and then desperately try to hold on when, inevitably, one of the parties moves on to new adventures. Somehow it's easier to process when you say only one goodbye at a time. Apparently now that it's my turn to leave, I'm turning into quite the sentimental sap, even though some of my best friends here I've known for little more than 3 months.

What happens to all these friendships? How many do we really keep? How many of these special people do we ever actually see again, despite the fact that many of us are frequent travelers? The answer, I fear, at least looking back at my own life and experiences with moving, is that we maintain precious few of those connections. Part of what makes me so sad about the prospect of moving away from Maputo is that I've established the most wonderful friendships here, and I'm afraid they will all fade and slip away.

Much of it is my own fault. For as much as I love to write (letters back in the day, blog and email currently), I am actually quite shit at keeping in touch with friends and family. I really struggle to maintain constant contact with anyone except my mom and dad, rather going through intense bursts of communication followed by months - sometimes even years - of silence. Sometimes this doesn't critically affect a friendship, especially if it was one born and rooted over a 2-day music festival, or on an 8-hour plane ride. Other times, the lack of regular contact makes the relationship wither away. Recuperating those neglected connections can be hard, if not impossible. I'm trying to be a bit better about phone calls and responding to emails, but it's easy to move away and slip into a pattern of non-communication. I really don't want that to happen this time around.

For the first time in recent memory, I have an incredibly special group of friends here in Maputo. In all the other cities I've lived over the past decade, I've had deep connections with individuals, but they seldom knew each other and weren't really inclined to go the same places or do the same things. Here, however, I have a core group of about 7 or 8 friends - some of whom I've known for several years now - who really define much of what I love about life in Maputo. I can't imagine saying goodbye, or even the more hopeful até logo.

The Quest

It's a simple one. I want to be tan when we go back to the US in 14 days (fourteen days!), so some serious pool and beach time is in order. I know it is meant to be avoided, but man I love sitting in the sun! Doused up in SPF 30, of course, but loving every hot, humid minute.

Today the heat hit Maputo, suddenly and accompanied by unforgiving wind, as it seems to happen every year in September. Yesterday it was warm, but clear and with full blue skies, still chilly at night. Today, something shifted. I could feel it at 6am when the cats woke me up. It was hot, suffocatingly so. Gray, hazy skies. On the weather report they said it was 35C.

I had pilates this evening with the trainer. Since we've sold most of our furniture already - portable fan included - I suffered quite a bit in the heat. Sweat glistened off my feet and dripped down my face minutes into the first stretch. Vodka tonics post-workout really were the only remedy imaginable.

Tomorrow we are off for a bit of a beach holiday. Rico and I, together with a couple we've become quite close friends with in the last two months or so. I find it so frustrating that you seem to meet the best people in the final moments leading up to a transcontinental move. Still, meeting late is better than not meeting at all, for sure.

We are heading to Bilene, a lagoon of brackish water a couple hours to the north in Gaza Province. Rico and I may have to haul our laptops along to do a bit of work in the downtime between sunning and braai, but still - it's a vacation.

Back on Friday, hopefully several steps closer to completing my tan-a-licious goal.

Things I Am Looking Forward to in the US

Perhaps the most common question I get these days is, "Are you happy about moving back to the US?"

It's a deceptively simple question. I feel like many people expect me to say 'no', or at least 'mais ou menos' and give some sort of politically or culturally inpsired response about how life outside the US is more inspired/less materialistic/more authentic/more spontaneous/more-or-less whatever. Even with Obama, there is still a lot of stigma associated with the US and the American lifestyle and frankly, I'm over it!

I am very happy to be going back to the US, and although there will certainly be reverse culture shock and the requisite ups and downs, I can't imagine a better next chapter to follow this Mozambican experience.

Here is a little rundown of things - superficial and not - that I'm looking forward to:

1. Reliable emergency response. If you call 911, someone will show up to help you within minutes.

2. Being anonymous, even if for a limited time.

3. Escaping the mulungo identity. Walking down the street, chatting with someone, talking about my life and profession without immediate assumptions being made because I am a White Foreigner.

4. Whole Foods, farmer's markets, specialty food shops.

5. Talented hairdressers.

6. Online shopping, especially Sephora, Overstock, Victoria's Secret and Nordstrom's.

7. CUSTOMER SERVICE.

8. Access to continuing education in any field imaginable.

9. Being able to shop for beads and jewelry supplies on demand.

10. Safe, reliable public transport.

11. Urban bike riding, hiking trails, public parks.

12. Wine tasting in Napa.

13. Cheap tickets on Southwest to visit family and friends. The idea that I can go back to New Mexico for a weekend is incredibly exciting.

14. Having my cousins come to stay with us - the cool aunt and uncle - for a couple weeks.

15. Decorating Casa Cali, even if it means finding a way to work with wood paneling.

16. Veterinary services that are up to par and available 24/7. I am still traumatized by Parceiro's death.

17. Bookstores!

18. Road trips through National Parks.

19. Weather cold enough to merit knee-high boots and overcoats.

20. Do-it-yourself culture.

21. Open discussions about politics, economics and religion.

22. New Mexican food - chile rellenos, enchiladas, sopaipillas, biscochitos.

23. Christmas in the winter, like it's meant to be. :)

24. Our first Christmas tree, complete with all the family ornaments that have been passed down to me over the years.

25. Discovering the endless possibilities of Craigslist.

26. Allowing myself to write more freely about my experiences in and opinions of Mozambique - I've met incredible people through my public blog, and truly enjoyed being a resource for life in Maputo/Moz, however I reached a point where I no longer felt comfortable writing candidly about certin subjects because of my readership. Once in the US, the distance makes it easier to reflect upon certain experiences, as well as perhaps the courage to put my opinions out there, even if they are not 100% "politically correct" or popular.

27. Taking art classes.

28. Starting a proper jewelry business, complete with a website with e-commerce.

29. Foods that I can't find or am unwilling to spend an arm and a leg on here: green chile, blueberries, figs, raspberries, different varieties of cheese, deli meats, toffee, packaged tortillas, multi-grain bread, roasted red peppers...the list is long!

30. Reconnecting with friends. Even with Skype and Facebook, there is something about physical distance that has made several - if not most - of my friendships back 'home' weaken. I look forward to nurturing them again.

31. Halloween.

32. Thanksgiving with family.

33. No more LAM (Mozambique's national airline, and currently the only option for domestic travel)

34. Speaking Spanish on a regular basis. I fear it's been somewhat compromised by my time in Mozambique.

35. Having more visitors. In my 4+ years here, I can tally my visitors on one hand: my mom, my Brazilian friend Heleno who was living in China, my childhood friend Hallie and her friend Cheryl...and that's it. I realize Moz is an expensive and complicated destination, but I also feel that a lot of people simply weren't interested in visiting or were concerned (about perceived health risks, lack of development, etc.) Already for our house in Casa Cali we have 4 visitors lined up!

36. Getting to know our neighbors and neighborhood. Becoming part of a community.

37. Feeling like I 'belong', even though I am aware this is an elusive concept for me. Still, there is something about returning to your home country that helps further define your identity, your sense of community, your sense of roots.

38. Being able to register and open a business in 1 week.

39. A justice system that works, contracts that can be enforced, infractions that are punished regardless of the person's influence or wealth. Yes, there is a flip side to this all in the lack of 'jeitinho' and spontaneity, but there are many, many benefits to rules and systems that are clear and enforced.

40. Nia classes.

41. Pilates studios.

42. Beaches that are not used as collective toilets or contaminated by sewage.

43. Being 20 minutes away from my mom's house.

44. Internet that is fast enough to download tv episodes and watch videos on You Tube uninterrupted.

45. Witnessing and participating in a culture of entrepreneurship, pride, hard work and optimism...even in the face of severe economic crisis and personal/financial setbacks.

46. Camping with my dad.

47. Meeting blog friends in 'real life'.

48. Driving on the left again, and finally learning how to properly f'ing parallel park!!

49. Dishwashers and clothes dryers.

50. Being proud to be American. It's been a long road through teenage cultural identity issues and nomadic wanderings in my 20's, but I've come full circle. I'm excited to be in the US without the feeling that I want to be someone or somewhere else. Yes, the urge to travel and experience life in far-flung places will remain - it's in my blood - but it is also incredibly nice to find peace in coming Home.

Despedida

I can't believe it. No longer can I say we leave 'next month' or 'at the end of September' like it's ages away. September is here. We leave in 23 days.

Santo Cristo.

Our lovely friends here in Maputo threw me and Rico a going away party on Friday night. It was at the Eiffel-designed train station downtown, by far my favorite building in all of the city. It was a wonderful despedida, complete with a dj, dancing, lots of friends, two of the most delicious cakes I've had in Maputo (usually they look pretty but taste of either cardboard or margarine), and a hand-painted banner hanging in the middle of the station wishing us farewell, reminding us that there will be many saudades.

In good Moz fashion, the night extended far beyond what we'd originally planned for, and Rico and I made it home around 5am. We ate some leftover goodbye cake, then went to bed with 3 purring cats sprawled around us. Vida boa, for sure.

Home Is Where I Want to Be*

After an insane month of calls with real estate agents and financial institutions, credit checks, lamenting over tax returns and the general feeling of being on a roller coaster 24/7, we did it.

We managed to get a mortgage. The dream home will be ours.

This happpy result is due to the incredibly hard work of Rico, my mom and the brilliant broker and agent we ended up working with. It is also thanks to the phenomenal generosity of our families, who put 100% of their time and resources up to help us make this a reality.

We have the closing scheduled in about 10 days, and the actual move-in will take place on September 23rd. From then, it is on to the fun part: decorating!


*from my absolute favorite song of all times, "This Must Be the Place" by Talking Heads

Ondas

I feel like I am riding waves each day, some moments a definite rush while on top and optimistic about things to come, others an unexpected low when the swell falls out from underneath me without warning.

Most of this is linked to the drama of trying to buy a house. It's the most intense experience of "two steps forward, one step back" that I've ever been through. Except these days it feels like one step forward, five steps back. I am trying to visualize the progress, and more than anything the end result, but it is frustrating and tiring and definitely not a guaranteed outcome. I am grateful to have Rico and my mom leading the process, as I can't imagine a more competent team to deal with the hurdles we face.

I suppose we've learned that it's not enough to get preapproved, make an offer, and come to an agreement on price with the seller. In fact that's the first baby step of the process. The real trick is to actually get a mortgage, especially if you have somewhat of a non-traditional situation.

We knew all along that the initial promising events didn't guarantee the house would be ours. I guess I just didn't anticipate how difficult it would be to wait, and to deal with the apparent setbacks along the way. Still, there is hope. I shall leave it at that for now.

In other news, Rico had his residency visa interview, and it went like clockwork. Seriously, if only buying a house were that simple. ;)

Of course the process was bureaucratic and expensive, but given that we had all of our papers in order, Rico had his compulsory medical exam results in hand, and we were generally organized and prepared for the interview, I must say that the process was very smooth. We received great service from the US Consulate in Johannesburg, had the luck of being assigned nice people to review our paperwork and conduct the actual interview, and had the added blessing that Rico's visa was granted within 30 minutes of the conclusion of his interview.

In all, the process cost close to US$2,000 considering:

1) the actual fees for submitting a petition for the residency visa, and then getting said visa processed ($355 + $400);
2) the medical exam ($150 - extraordinarily cheap for a chest X-ray, vaccinations and a physical thanks to super affordable medicine in South Africa, even for those with no health insurance);
3) FedEx cost for sending original documents from Brazil and US ($200);
4) Sworn translation of all documents in Portuguese ($100); and
5) car trips to Johannesburg since they don't process residency visas in Maputo, and the closest approved doctor for the medical exam was there ($250 + $450, for fuel and accomodations each trip).

It's certainly one way they screen who can become a Resident Alien...

I found it fascinating to see who our companions were in the Immigrant Visa waiting room. One South African guy - a lawyer with a fancy watch and very nice clothes - had been waiting 2.5 years to get his visa approved. There was a couple next to us from Eritrea - apparently the man was already a US citizen residing in Denver, CO and was trying to bring his fiancee over - who spoke barely any English and looked as if their entire lives depended on the granting of the visa. Another couple - both South Africans - left the building cursing the Consular Officer after having their petition denied, presumably due to the guy's criminal record from a fight he got into with his dad outside a bar when he was 17.

One of the most interesting things to me was that they didn't take you to a private room for the interviews. You just stood at a counter and spoke through a prison-visit style telephone to the interviewer behind the glass. Everyone in the waiting room was therefore privvy to all of the details of your life story. It was heaven for me, given my terrible habit of eavesdropping and observing (my favorite context being, of course, airports).

In our interview, we were asked about how we met, what we did for a living, why we wanted to move to the US, details about our wedding, and when we plan on relocating. It was all very easy, just like answering questions at a dinner party. There was only one misstep, when I accidentally said that we met in 2008 instead of 2000. I guess it was nerves, although consciously I didn't feel at all anxious about the interview.

So we have the visa, now it would be wonderful if we could get the house...

My mom has been compulsively lighting incense for good luck the past few days. I'd appreciate any similar votes of positive energy you would be willing to cast for us, as we still have a long road ahead towards the Casa Cali.

The Long Road to Our New Home

Friends, it's been a crazy past couple of weeks. Here's the lowdown on what's been going on in our corner of the world lately:

- Endless paperwork and bureaucracy has been the definite theme. Rico is applying for his US residency visa, and we are trying to purchase a house in California prior to our move. I believe Rico and I now have notarized, sworn translations of every official document issued to us from birth, as well as a full picture of our financial standing thanks having to cough up tax returns, account statements and employment contracts seemingly from the beginning of time.

- A word to the wise: You know that old song "If you wanna be happy for the rest of your life, never make a pretty woman your wife"? Well, here's my 2009 version. If you wanna have a straightforward, paperwork-free, easy life, never make non-resident alien your wife. Or in my case, husband. Seriously, I don't know how people who aren't compulsively organized and perfectly bilingual make it through this process. Totally worth it though. Obviously.

- Rico went for his compulsory health exam last week in Johannesburg as part of the visa application process. I am happy to report that, as evidenced by a chest X-ray, my husband doesn't suffer from TB.

- My mother-in-law is here for a visit, her first time in Africa. We picked her up at the airport in Joburg, then promptly proceeded to get lost downtown while trying to find the medical clinic. We had a GPS, and it was useless thanks to the Wiki-style maps we have for South Africa that didn't recognize our intended destination. We circled nervously and aimlessly for about an hour, with my MIL in the back seat. Apparently she later confessed to Rico that she thinks we are a great couple with a promising future because we didn't kill each other in the car.

- We went to Kruger park with my MIL, and it was fabulous. We saw a pride of 8 lions, and every other animal imaginable except for the reclusive leopard.

- Rico and I put an offer on a beautiful house yesterday, along with my mom who has helped us beyond measure in the prequalification process. Now we wait. By the end of the week, we will know if the house is to be ours. This is a very tidy way to sum up what has been weeks of high stress, all leading to the biggest decision in my and Rico's life since marriage. We are all praying this house works out, because it is an incredible opportunity and we are totally in love with it already.

- We are starting to sell our furniture and other posessions here in Maputo. It's a strange process, and a daunting one for sure, but I find it quite appealing. Although I cling to certain objects, I find it cleansing to have a big purge of posessions every few years. We will leave Moz with 2 suitcases each, 3 cats and 1 cargo box containing an antique chandelier and an old wooden trunk. That's it. Chega.

- The prospect of starting fresh in a new house is thrilling. I loved putting together this apartment, making it our home. We started with next to nothing, and used wicker furniture and slept on a mattress on the floor for nearly 2 years. Now our flat is comfortable and beautifully decorated. I know we will be starting close to zero again with the new house in California, but I am not at all regretful because the process is so satisfying, and starting humble really makes you appreciate every little improvement, every new piece of furniture or painted wall.

- Rico and I have the big visa interview on Monday. Please keep us in your thoughts.

So that's it in a nutshell. I am also currently working 3 jobs, but I won't even go into the details because more than anything, I need to get off the blog and get them done.

Crepuscule

Where has the light gone? Suddenly it seems like frail rays of light even at four in the afternoon are a bit of a miracle; the stronger hours of morning sun appreciated exceptionally.

I feel the rhythm I settle into during the winter – the tropical, mild, delicious type as far as winters are concerned – and wonder how people manage to leave their houses in Northern climates, how I ever existed as a functional person during the many cold periods spent in New Mexico.

Granted, a part of this reclusiveness might be attributed to the special sort of blues that come with too many years lived abroad in the same 'developing' place. There is an enclosing of one’s social radius, the somewhat sad crush of similarity when discussing with a new resident or with family back ‘home’ the basics of life where you live – it is no longer the exciting discussion it once was as new details were appreciated, different customs celebrated and experiences eagerly shared – rather you are jaded, too tired to move beyond the routine stories except on really marking occasions.

It is easy to slip into a shell at this phase. You likely have a couple of core friends whose contracts don't end in the subsequent six months, enough to satisfy minimum emotional needs. The city or town is as familiar as the back of a hand, and the appeal of most destinations has tarnished. It’s more appealing to stay home, with good company – or none at all – than to go out and find live music, have a beer just for the sake of it and in the process stay out until one in the morning, or go to another of an endless series of dinners at upscale restaurants that involve semi-agreeable chit-chat with at least six other parties you’ve likely never previously met. It becomes irresistibly tempting to stay in and drink a bottle of wine or three, watch trash on TV, compulsively check email, and eat Indian takeaway.

I know. I’ve been in this phase for about the last year and a half.

But I’m at least aware of it, and therefore on occasion make colossal effort to get into a social phase (only to usually enjoy being out and wonder how on Earth I could feel so noninclined otherwise). I confess to having been a bit of a social butterfly lately, meeting several new people from the blog, enjoying the occasional girl’s night, and even a proper party or two. It’s been nice, but surely part of the reason I’ve been so tired.

Then again, maybe it’s simply the time of year. Mozambique is particularly affected by the changing length of a day because it is quite far South, doesn’t observe daylight savings, and is also located at the far edge of a time zone. All factors combined mean dusk at 5:07pm (official, as of the solstice yesterday) and, in December, sunrise at a merciless 4:50am! Think about what that does to your day to have the sun burning bright prior to five in the morning…in my experience, unexpectedly, it’s been quite nice. Although I’m far from being a morning person, I am an earlier riser and in a better mood during the Mozambican summer.

It will be strange to be a ‘new’ person in the Bay Area. I look forward to being on the fresh, enthusiastic side of conversations about cities and culture again. I hope for, with time, wise eyes with which to look back upon this experience in Southern Africa. Maybe I will be able to write about the way I wish I’d been able to do while actually on the ground. I take solace in the fact that Barbara Kingsolver apparently wrote “The Poisonwood Bible” several decades after her early experiences in the Congo. When the words are meant to come, they will.

Forward Motion

Uff, my workload these days has been unforgiving! It's not totally overwhelming yet, but definitely close to the threshold of what I enjoy taking on.

Blogging keeps getting bumped to the back burner (aka "I'll do it on the weekend") along with the treadmill, proper grocery shopping, and coffee/drinks with several new acquaintances.

I'm not complaining, though. I'm grateful for the work in all its versions - jewelry fairs, jewelry classes, maize mills project, proposal writing, translating - because each hour worked is a step closer to what feels right. Moving forward, making and saving money, enjoying the space in which you're not quite sure what comes next.

I've also had time for small leisure moments, despite the busy schedule. I've cooked quite a bit (stewed chicken in homemade tomato veg sauce, apple crumble), hung out with friends and had indian takeaway and wine, hung out with super girlfriends and sketched in preparation for my application to art school (I've been super keen on finding sketching partners these days, as I want to learn as much as possible on how people draw), watched some trash on TV and even done a Pilates class.

It's nice that Rico is in the same rhythm at the moment work-wise. We often sit across from each other at the living room table with a glass of wine so that, even though we are both working on a deadline, we can enjoy the other person's company. It's sweet, and brings back the good old Chimoio days when we'd sit in plastic lawn chairs in an under-furnished room and knock out fundraising proposals.

I'm looking forward to the weekend. Hopefully it will be restful, but even if its not, at least it will be fun. That is one element certainly not lacking in my life these days.

Novamente

It is starting to sink in that we are leaving Mozambique.

It's a familiar feeling, that of starting to savor every moment because you wonder when, or if, you will ever be able to approximate it again.

The bright turquoise waters of an estuary ebbing past an old suspension bridge, under the potholed highway, before forming whirlpools at the juncion where river meets Indian Ocean.

The Southern Hemisphere stargazing on crisp just-winter nights, locating Orion's belt, the Pleiades, the Southern Cross and even rusty Mars against the dark backdrop.

The sweet-salty crab at Clube Naval.

The parties and dinners and realization that I've formed an incredible, although often geographically transitory group of friends.

I have suddenly shifted into minimalize mode. In addition to it being practical (and necessary) to de-clutter before a move, it is almost as if the extra clothes and furniture and papers distract me from that which I truly want to appreciate in these last few months.

I reminisce frequently about my final time in Austin, what an incredible experience that was out to the last unexpected morning in the city.

Leaving is such a bittersweet experience, but it's almost like I most appreciate where I've been and the friendships I've made in those moments just before I give a kiss and walk onto a plane.

Here's to enjoying what's still to come.