Love and Politics

Life as an expat has treated us pretty well. We step out of our comfort zone almost on a daily basis, but with it comes come great perks. For me, I see it mostly in the people that we meet. I'm not a huge fan of meeting people, but here it's the number one key to survival. Whether its learning where to go for your most cherished groceries, where the best burger in town in, how to maneuver on public transportation, google tries but it always comes in second to personal accounts and story-swapping. So, I've kind of seen it as my job to make those connections and get out to meet people. And although I'm pretty content with just the basics, like where the heck is the cheddar cheese is this city, we have been blown away by the cool things we've been hooked up with through casual conversations and connections. This year's election night was one of those things.

We received an invitation to the Spaso House, our ambassador's home here in Moscow for election coverage/cocktail hour. How busy and important does that make us look, right? So we were pretty stoked to go, if anything so that we could say that we were entertained at the Ambassador's home. And because we still pay US taxes and yet we can't shop at the embassy commissary, which has Pillsbury cookie dough and other items we're dying for. The least our tax dollars can give us is a night of free food and booze.

We arrive, flash our passports to the marines on guard for impostors to the VIP party and we waltz in. It didn't take very long to realize that we were horrifyingly underdressed for the occasion. Nowhere on the invitation was "business casual" mentioned, but maybe we got a different invite than everyone else. Or maybe thats just common knowledge to show up to the Ambassador's home looking nice. In hindsite, I think its probably the latter.

There was no other choice then to go in, avoid contact and start drinking our taxpayer wine, which, to be honest is the way I like to see our dollars at work. I dove right into piling my plate with food, too, because Hubs has way more pride than I do and I knew he would want to leave soon. No sir, not till I have my fill.

By glass number three of vino, we were feeling better. It helped that we were seeing more people who were also casually dressed. Albeit, they were the hippie photographers, but we'll take it. If we ran into any of our well dressed friends in town, we had a plan to immediately comment on the media dress code, or lack thereof. "Pffffftt… take a bath hippie, am I right? Another glass of red, please?"

Luckily, we didn't see anyone we knew until the very end, after I felt I had properly gotten the most out of my tax dollars for one night (which happens to equal three plates of food and six glasses of wine…). By then, the hippie photographers were gone, so we had no one to turn our nose up to. But by then, lets be honest, we had the upper hand as the most comfortable couple in the place. Boom.

When we left, we walked past all the drivers and their heavily tinted windows, waiting for the way more important people inside. We walked past the expensive apartments, the fancy restaurants. Past the pubs and drunks stumbling outside and into our little metro stop. We laughed the entire way home at the situations we find ourselves in, and how significantly unprepared we usually are. I mean really, who wears jeggings to an Embassy sponsored event at their ambassador's home?

We do. And we do it fantastically.

And eventually, we find ourselves not alone and so comfortable. And with a great story. We got to watch the polls close with a plate of gourmet food and wine, with a pretty cool international backdrop and lots of secret glances and giggles.

Cheers to those glances and giggles that take the story from mortifying to memorable in no time at all.

Love and Hurried Waiting

Let's try this again...

Hello. My husband and I refuse to quit honeymooning. These are our stories. 

You'll never guess where I am right now. Starbucks. I know I should be going local, I'm a huge advocate for local businesses, but Starbucks will always be the exception because if there's one thing I've learned in our travels thus far, its that this coffee shop will always have English-speaking baristas. That, my friends is gold. Solid gold.

But today is my first day at this Starbucks "office". Because I'm in Alaska. Yep. Alaska. This transition was a pretty wild road, starting with a lot of waiting followed by a week or two of flurried (read: exhausting) activity and now finishing up with more waiting. 

We were actually back home in Texas, waiting on our visas to get us back to Russia for our last few months of Hubs' assignment and planning one last sweet European Christmas. One month turned into two, which then turned into three, and suddenly we're reading our friend's posts on Facebook about snow in Moscow and falling temperatures. Where had the time gone? Anxiety was starting to set in because we were on a deadline ourselves and couldn't extend our time in Russia, but Hubs had certain obligations to finish with his program and it wasn't looking good. I have to admit that my anxieties got the best of me, yet again. Planning, timelines and to do lists became an obsession and none of it was working. 

In the back of my mind (way, way far back of my mind…) I knew everything would work out. Life happens and it keeps going. And I knew no matter how difficult it was, we would be ok because we're just like that. I had no idea it would work out as intricately as this… 

It came in an offhanded comment from one of Hubs' bosses in the Texas office that they were looking for people in the Alaska branch. Hubs, about as excitable as a puppy dog thought it sounded pretty cool so he got in touch with the hiring manager. Which led to a visit a week later, which led to a job offer two days later, which led to an official transfer approval three days later, which ended with a pack up your things, we're moving to Alaska in four days. At this point, realize we've both been waiting for our visas back to Russia for almost exactly four months. Suddenly, our well-rehearsed speech about how long we would be in town changed overnight to, "yeah, we're leaving for Alaska on Monday!" Most of our friends were shocked at first, but then remembered who they were talking to. This is kind of what we do. I swear we're not trying to one-up ourselves, it just happens naturally. 

So here we are. Alaska. "The final frontier" and they are not joking. It's been a real shock, my emails to friends who had lived here did nothing to prepare me for this strange land of personalized license plates, chattiness, military discounts, fleece and mountains. But we jump in nonetheless and adapt as best we can. Together, with lots of laughs, lots of plans, lots of dreams. It's our official tried and true method. 

As crazy as it sounds, this move did more for my peace of mind than it probably should have. My anxieties about our timeline and transition after Moscow are laid to rest. Rest assured, they've been replaced by others, but at least I have hope that no matter what the anxiety, my prayers are heard by a God who is extra creative in putting them to rest. And part of that is having a handsome, silly, fearless partner by my side. 

And so the honeymoon continues.

Cheers to the things and people that make us fearless.