Time is what prevents everything from happening at once.  ~John Archibald Wheeler

You know we expats are always talking about how different our lives are from friends and family back home. We describe how our schedules have changed, how we manage our homes differently and of course how we eat differently. With the start of school (yippee!) and hearing about everyone else’s changes and transitions, I noticed that our lives are so much more alike than I had previously realized. It’s fragile. We have happy times, sad times and bored times. Also, everything can change in 24 hours.

From hearing about a Facebook friend who realized how much her life had changed since her last status update 18 hours before, to reading about people who are affected by another sudden tragedy; people’s lives are in constant flux. This is true whether you’re rich, poor, living abroad or living in the same place you grew up. Someone once made the analogy to me that life is like when you’re in the bathtub with a bunch of floating balls and you’re trying to keep all of them underwater. Right when you’ve got all of them under control, one pops up. Sometimes the ball that pops up can easily be handled with a slight maneuver. However, sometimes getting a handle of it means letting go of all the others. Regardless of a person’s exterior circumstances, which is basically what living abroad is, dealing with sudden changes can be very difficult. Traumatic even.

So, I’ve decided that next time someone is asking me about how different my life must be living abroad, I’m going to remind them that we go through the same emotions as everyone else. I’m living a life very similar to theirs; I’m simply doing it at a different geographic coordinate.

I used to sit by this very window with him when he was only a few weeks old because he was jaundiced and it was the best window in the house to get direct sunlight…

He could care less about that – especially with the evil pink machine in hand, but we made memories in that house. Maybe that’s why this place feels like home.

2) Carefree: This stems from my increased patience because sometimes things just don’t work out the way I plan them. When the internet is down, there’s no point in calling technical assistance to see what the problem is – you just wait it out. Luckily, I have my phone (are you sensing a theme here) as a backup if I really need to connect. If the water is turned off (unannounced) because the city is fixing a busted pipe, I simply adjust my schedule accordingly. I also have several gallons of emergency water supply just in case the fixing takes longer than expected. The point is, none of this frustrates me like it used to.

3) Better tipper: Americans are not known as bad tippers to begin with – 15-25% is part of our lexicon. What I have started doing here is tipping people that I normally wouldn’t in the states: the bagger at the grocery store, the bus boy at a small café, the water delivery guy. For the most part these people are tipped regularly by Venezuelans, hence no awkward “oh no, I can’t accept this” and every once in a while I tip someone who wasn’t expecting it and receive an unexpected display of gratitude making the extra expense invaluable.

4) Spanish: Well, if this didn’t make the list, I don’t know what would. I can now say that language is no longer a barrier for me in this country – there are plenty other things that I can list as barriers At the risk of tooting my own horn, I’m very proud of the progress that I’ve made in learning Spanish and this is something that I’ll benefit from long after my stay in Caracas. Although it’s been said many times, I absolutely encourage all expats to learn the local language.

5) More Active: As detailed in my post about losing inches here, I walk more here than I have walked in any place that I’ve ever lived. Considering that I can still remember looking at my car in the parking lot from my office window and wishing there was some technology that could transport me there without having to get out of my seat – this is progress. I can also remember places that seemed way too far to walk when I first got here that have now become a hop, skip and a jump away. My perception of distance has been altered which has basically made me less lazy. I’m sure this will revert back to its original state after a few months in the American suburbs.

Note: This list was extremely easy to come up with leading me to believe that things are always better than they appear.

I think any American who has been abroad will tell you that other people don’t smile as much as we do. Not in the sense of being happy; but, as a way to acknowledge someone without actually speaking. The other day I walked by a classroom and saw a French teacher – whom I know – standing at the blackboard. I, of course instinctively smiled at him in an effort to not disrupt the class and at the same time say hello. He said “bonjour!”. I thought, well that wasn’t necessary. He could’ve just smiled and I would’ve interpreted that as “hello”. Then I thought, does he think I’m rude for not speaking and simply smiling?

Overall, Venezuelans do the same thing. When I walk past a parent at the kids’ school, they mostly say “hola” or “buenas”. No one simply smiles. At first I kept thinking how much easier it is to smile. But when you think about it, not really. A forced smile is very obvious. To make your smile count, you have to mean it. Plus, a smile can mean so many things. It can say “your child is adorable” or “that parent is being inappropriate, but what are you gonna do?”. I think I’ve actually had entire conversations with a smile. And because I’ve lived in a culture that encourages this sort of communication, it has become second nature.

Now that I’m not able to use it effectively, I’m sad. Even worse, how are my kids ever going to become experts in communicating without words? Words are great, but they can sometimes be overrated, no? You know this is one cultural norm that I’m not willing to give up as an expat – so, when they see the quiet, smiling lady they can go ahead and label me the crazy American!

Time is the coin of your life.  It is the only coin you have, and only you can determine how it will be spent.  Be careful lest you let other people spend it for you. ~Carl Sandburg

Believe it or not, today marks one year since we moved to Caracas. I knew the date was coming…I’ve been telling friends and family how pretty soon one year will have passed. Nonetheless, it feels like the day sort of snuck up on me.

I’ve tried to keep track of what it was like to get settled and I can’t help but laugh at some of the things I was feeling this past year. One thing’s for sure in terms of my assimilation, I no longer sweat the small stuff. Even if I wanted to get upset about last minute cancellations or service people running 3 hours late, it would be pointless. People like me are in the minority here, so it’s been a much better strategy to go simply with the flow.

What was great about arriving here in December last yeat was how quiet Caracas is, which translates to very little traffic. Since this was my initiation into city life, I’m glad I wasn’t bombarded with the normal noise-level and hustle immediately. The normal chaos didn’t start up again until January 15th (apparently this is customary in Caracas) and my baptism by fire – communicating in Spanish without my husband as a back-up – began. It wasn’t until April when I finally caved in and started taking a course.

While there won’t be any big celebration (my husband gave me a congratulatory handshake ), I’m nevertheless grateful for all that I’ve been able to experience in this past year. Regardless of the hurdles that lie ahead, I am extremely satisfied with the way I’ve been spending my coin