Goodbye Gifts

Our family is leaving Bulgaria and Jon is receiving goodbye gifts from work. There are plaques, awards and framed photos. These are given out at end of the year ceremonies and goodbye parties. They accompany sincere speeches letting him know that he will be missed and that his work here was appreciated. They left him feeling uncomfortable.  Why do we make such a fuss over the people who are leaving and not appreciate those who stay and dedicate themselves to making this place the best it can be.  But we don't. In a "prodigal son" sort of party we celebrate the coming and going of colleagues.

I feel the same way.  Jon and I should be throwing a party to say "thank you" to all those who made our stay here meaningful and memorable. They are those we traveled with, shared a meal with, taught with, fixed our car, shared in our troubles, laughed with and celebrated with.  We should be handing out bottles of good Bulgarian wine and saying, "thank you for the time you took to make our stay here in Bulgaria better, just because..."

I am not receiving the same goodbye gifts because I don't work for the same institution.

But I am still receiving gifts... they may not be presented at parties or ceremonies, but they are so precious to me.  A colleague where I teach English offered to help me with the paper work to sell my car... just because she appreciated my work for the company.  I received a gift inscribed with this message of appreciation... from someone who I haven't talked to in a year.  But we don't forget people who do good things for us, who reach out and touch our lives for the better. True appreciation is shown through lasting memories over time. Most of us who move on, expect to be forgotten, just as we forget much of what we have left behind. But there are some people who I will never forget, no matter how far away I travel, like the sweet person who wrote this message, because the appreciation is sincere and mutual.

When Jon and I left Sofia the first time, over 20 years ago, we had not made many friends here, and many of our memories were painful.  We were robbed three times, the insurance company didn't have the money to reimburse us the value of our stolen car, and I was told that my pregnancy was an inconvenience.  Many would have thought leaving would be a blessing and that we would never come back.

What made the difference, and made our coming back a delight, were the few good people who helped us through our difficulties, and let us know they appreciated the fact that we had come to share three years with them.  We did not expect a send off at the airport and were surprised to see two people come to see us off.  One was our nanny; she loved our son and had given us her wholehearted service in our home despite the fact she had an engineering degree and could have done so much more. She was genuinely sad to see us go.  And the other well-wisher was a young man who had got to know Jon through some karate lessons. I still don't know why he came to the airport, but it must have been to show his appreciation for Jon's friendship. I never saw either of them again, but I will never forget their goodbyes.

SOLD!

They say that the two happiest days in a man's life are when he buys a boat and when he sells it. The same can be said of my owning a car while living abroad.  It is now time to move on and I need to sell the car.  I tell myself that I will never buy a car overseas again because I can do without this hassle when packing up to leave... but I know I will.  Owning a car has been well worth it in the fact that it has provided me with the freedom to travel to places I could not have got to without it.
Now that I appear to have found a buyer for the car, I find that I have mixed feelings.  This car has taken me places I never dreamed I would go. In it my family was able to explore Bulgaria and Greece on the weekends.

It has driven us through snow, up mountains, to family and onto ferries.  It has taken us to 13 different countries, some for less than a day, and covering five in one long day.  It carried us and friends to ski resorts, beaches, islands and dream-like natural parks.
I can't say it never let us down, or that I never wished I hadn't bought the car.  The mechanical problems turned out to be easily fixed with a new part, and although I was inconvenienced at the time, I was never in danger.  The car got me through Albania twice without a scratch.  I can't even get it into my garage without a nick or scrape.
Parking can be a problem, and twice I wished I had traveled to Vienna by another mode of transport.  But I forgot all my "driving in a foreign city woes" the next day when I was able to continue on through the Alps, stopping at the

site of a concentration camp and finding an inexpensive chalet in the hills outside Salzburg.  And although I could have visited the salt mines and 'Eagles Nest' by bus tour, it wouldn't have been the same adventure.  When you drive you plan your own route, stop at those unexpected places on the way, and stay as long as you want. An extra day in beautiful Bled? I'll stop in downtown Ljubljana if I can find parking.  And if in doubt, we will just pull over on the side of the road and work out what to do next.

One of difficulties I just can't explain is the fact that I have a problem selling my car when it is time to move.  In my mind I imagine a host of new recruits eagerly on their way abroad, who can't wait to get out and explore the place by car.  But I offer my car to the expat community and no one is interested.  It cost too much, and owning a car is a hassle.  Driving in a strange city can be dangerous or overwhelming.  But if they only knew what they could do... who wouldn't want to drive through a tunnel and cross over into another country inside the mountain?

Who wouldn't want to take a Greek car ferry to explore an island? Who wouldn't want to follow a GPS coordinate to an abandoned ruin with no signs? Who wouldn't want to drive through the forgotten beauty of Bosnia just to get home? Who wouldn't want to share the road with sheep and goats once in a while? Who wouldn't want to arrive in Budapest by driving in across the Danube at night?  Who wouldn't want an Albanian car-wash? Who wouldn't want to be able to say, "I'm driving down to Greece for the weekend"?
I'm sold on owning a car in the Balkans.

Looking Forward

What do you look forward to?  Is it spring? Summer vacation? A solitary cup of coffee on a quiet Sunday morning? Getting away on the weekend? A drink at the end of a long day? Retirement? I spend a lot of time looking forward to something.  And someone recently told me that he envied me for the simple fact that I was able to get away and experience something new.

We must be careful not to confuse joy with relief.  I realize that much of what I look forward to is simply relief, a break from the present, or the conclusion of a unpleasant task.  What joy is there in spending our time waiting for the end to come? Spring will be another year in coming.  You have five days till the weekend.  And all that we have planned for our time off will be everything we have wished for, but then we are back to where we started... waiting for our next event or holiday.  I have had two sons graduate in the last week.  Are they really looking forward to their future, or are they simply glad its over?
When I think back to the few times when I have really looked forward to something because of the joy I knew it would bring, I remember: Monday mornings with my class the first year of teaching; being reunited with my family; Christmas at home; traveling home; giving birth; getting married...  You see a pattern.  It is the people in my life that bring me joy.

So don't envy me for moving and starting fresh, or for what I have done.  And I am sure my sons have the same mixed feelings about their future.  Most of us don't look forward to the unknown.  We miss the people we leave behind when we go out alone.
I wish my boys every success and the opportunity to experience the thrill of venturing out into the unknown, but I also wish that they will always look forward to coming home. And that they find joy rather than simple relief.

Have a great summer!