What Flips Most About an Expat’s Life

Photo: Ubergizmo

It has been over 20 years. A stretch of time, long enough to own a journal of some thoughts that tickle the funny bones. A weave of episodes for an expat who adapts to the nuances the American language navigates with an American driver’s license, and with  American work skills but the make of a culture left behind. There is no stopping to the recall of the humor there is in being an expat for a decade of two.

Am I dyslexic?

I grew up using the vernacular to point to directions. Most of the time, the sun is my compass. But what about when the sun is out? The house has West by the patio. I’ve fixed my position quite straight here. It’s the driving that gets the laughter most of the time. Scared of driving on the highways, I skirt the back roads where driving passes my speed limit. Driving the main streets with lights that direct my time drives to work is easy huh? When the going is straight, and it’s the back roads, I would see a procession of cars trailing behind me. When they finally pass my lane, I overhear horns blowing, and voices follow. I don’t understand; they sound like a rowdy lingo! And, I don’t yell back. Americans do not make eye contacts. They are not confrontational. So I keep still, minding my driving, pray that soon, I will get to where am going in time. Yes, I need to be an aggressive driver!

Where’s my GPS?

I finally got the boogers out of the way. My written directions. It works better than a GPS. When it drops silent, am afraid am totally lost on the roads I less take!. I knew I skimmed through it on my Google maps (the boss says mapping is outdated,, but for me, it works, am a bookworm you see!. With my index finger, I keep tapping until I know which Mc\Do or Walmart I pass by on my standard drive. Then the drive goes smooth. I realized I needed an upgrade for my apple mini iPad ( the boss is jealous!). The new version got a built-in GPS (did they say Samsung did an intellectual piracy, who was first then?). Both mapping and the GPS needs updating; they can’t seem to serve my needs on the road!

To each his own

I have never been buddy -buddies with my dishwasher not until recently. It had given the most laughs as far as I can remember. From soap suds oozing out (wrong TIDE soap used) to weird noise (silverware got into the spinner and its fighting for itself to function). Sometimes its use is a confirmation that I will never get to own it. The wash turns cloudy. So many times I would see the same silverwares I just washed back in the sink (4-6 of them).The house boss could not have used that much in so short a time! Then when the discourse is light ( see he is not confrontational (again), he knows when to get to the tiger when it’s tame!), he’d say by way of a comment what I did with the dishwasher. Again I’d be silent. Deep inside I cringed. After all these years, I have never mastered washing silverwares the right way. No big deal, I wash them by hand, less when am in a hurry. My most giggles come when my cousins are around. Polite, they take over the dish washing but would always complain there’s too much in there, they can’t wash! Hey whether I leave it full or empty is none of your business, it’s my dishwasher and dryer!

The Gourmet goes a cooking

Photo: Balut

Am a Food Channel addict. I could pan my X-Men radar when Rachael Ray is on that big tube doing her 30-minute meals. Andrew Zimmerman picks up a scorpion from some outskirts in Malaysia. Then it’s ready for soaking in a vinaigrette dumped with a thousand load of spices; he doesn’t tweak! Yes, I know am with him in most of BIZZARE FOOD FINDS. I never took notes on the food I seem to like making. You see I want original recipes. If I like what I see, I would twitch it and still  curtsies as my own. Everybody does that. My friend tweaked my recipe and published it as her own after including me in her contacts on FB. Can I fight a newly found family member?. But again when the writing needs to level up, I hate data scaling. Inescapably, the topic speaks of my victories; I can go on and on and be pleasing with my keyboards. The treatment of a recipe book is a no, no to me. I would buy one and let it rest in my kitchen to display. The house boss teases about how I can cook without one. If I do the same dish over and over, would I not have memorized making it after the 2nd, 3rd tries? I don’t need a kitchen Bible to perfect one. Repetition is the master to perfection!

I could go on and on, and the laughs get the best of me. I tolerate my boo-boos because I am me!

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