Having Babies in Norway

Prior to moving abroad, everyone I knew gave birth in Canada and while I personally hadn't gone through the process, I had a general idea of what pre and postnatal care looked like there.  Once I stepped into the expat lane, I was fascinated by all of the countries my new friends had given birth in, regardless of where they're originally from.  From South Korea to France to Dubai, it was interesting to me (even pre-pregnancy) as to how it all went down.  Sure, giving birth is giving birth no matter where you are but each culture brings it's own set of methods.  Norway is no different.  While there are similarities to what I might be familiar with, there are also differences.

On Prenatal Care…

+Midwifery is alive and well in Norway.  In fact, the majority of all babies are delivered by midwives in hospitals without a physician present.  Pregnant women have the choice to use their regular GP (fastlege,) a midwife or a combination of the two for their prenatal care but most doctors will strongly recommend you visit the midwife at least once as they are considered the experts on labour and delivery.

+Pregnancy is treated much less like a medical condition and much more like a normal part of life.  Like many aspects in the Norwegian healthcare system, common sense prevails.  Many tests that are routinely run in North America aren't even mentioned here.  I didn't have a glucose test and strep b was never brought up.  My iron levels were checked with a finger prick a couple of times and I was required to bring a urine sample to every appointment.  I had blood drawn once.  Despite this, maternal mortality rates are one third of the United States and nearly half of Canada.  The same goes for infant mortality rates.  Medical intervention during labour is also much less common.

+There are also private midwives and private physicians that you may choose to go to for care.  Of course, there is cost involved as they are not part of the regular healthcare scheme.  Also, at the hospital, the person that delivers your baby is the person on call regardless of who you've seen for your entire pregnancy.

On Labour…
+Almost all women give birth in hospitals in Norway.  (Home births, at least in this region, are quite rare. I've also never heard of any birthing centres.)  In the Stavanger hospital, there are two places in which one may give birth.  The first is the 'birthing loft' which is for uncomplicated, normal pregnancies and is completely run by midwives and baby nurses.  It is recommended that all women start there unless their situation requires closer medical attention.  Should a situation arise, or should the labouring woman want an epidural, they would be transferred to the first floor.  There really isn't much difference between the two other than the fact that the first floor is outfitted with more medical equipment and there is a physician consulting with the midwives regularly.  My midwife explains that both the doctors and the midwives work very well together and rely on each other and their expertise to assist the labouring women.

+In Stavanger, mothers and babies stay in the hospital for 3 nights after a normal delivery.  There is a hotel within the hospital with an entire floor dedicated to maternity.  Depending on room availability, fathers and other family members may also check in.  The rooms are exactly like a hotel room except they include a large changing table in the washroom and a nursing station is located at the end of the hallway.  Midwives and baby nurses will check on you several times daily and are a phone call away should you need anything.  There was also a standard itinerary for each day including learning to bathe your baby and other health tests for the infant.  The stay is cost-free for mothers but other family members pay for their stay and food.

On Cost…
+The government literally pays you to have children.  Every baby born in Norway is entitled to a Lump-Sum Benefit (including mine!)  In 2014, the sum totalled over 38 000 kroner or over $6000 CAD.  This is to help take care of the extra costs associated with having a child.  The payouts don't stop there.  One also receives 970 kroner per month ($160) until the child turns 18.

+Speaking of money, prenatal care is also completely covered under the national healthcare scheme.  As soon as you are officially pregnant in the eyes of the system, you don't even have to pay the nominal fee per appointment.

On Parental Leave…
+Norway has a very generous parental leave.  One chooses between taking 49 weeks at 100% pay or 59 weeks at 80% coverage.  There are some regulations as to how the leave can be used (read about it here) but essentially, both the mother and the father are entitled to some time off after the arrival of a new family member.

+It is quite common for Dads to take a substantial amount of paternity leave.  During the day, I see many men pushing prams and collecting groceries.

Other...
+Breastfeeding is highly encouraged and very common in Norway.  Breastfeeding in public is also very common and I've never seen a woman use a cape or cover.

+When mother and baby return home, a visit from a health sister will be set up.  She'll come to your home to check in with you and go over the schedule of appointments and wellness checks for your baby.  She'll speak to you about your labour and make sure that any concerns are addressed or will direct you to the appropriate venues.

+High-end strollers and prams are the average here.  Bugaboo, Emmaljunga and Stokke are the most popular on the streets.  More affordable car seat/stroller options aren't even really available here.  I assume with the cash benefits, people are more willing to spend greater amounts on baby gear.

…………………………………………...

I had nothing but a positive experience being pregnant and giving birth in Norway.  I have even joked that should we decide to expand our brood in the future, we might have to move back.

I'm curious - have you or someone you know given birth abroad? What was the experience like?  (IE, if Norway isn't in the cards, where should I move next?)

Movements

The kid around week 28

There are certain milestones in pregnancy that most everyone anxiously awaits.  There's the magical end of the first trimester marking the disappearance of that pesky nausea and then spreading the happy news.  There's the moment when you start to notice your belly protruding and then the moment where your belly no longer resembles what it looks like after a holiday meal but an actual pregnant belly.  There's hearing the heartbeat for the first time and finding out if you've got a baby boy or a baby girl growing in there.  And then there's the movement.

I haven't done a very good job of documenting my pregnancy so I can't tell you exactly when I started to feel the kid grooving but it was pretty early on.  Early enough that I questioned (as many pregnant women do) if it is in fact the baby moving, or if it's gas.  People and blogs and books will tell you it feels like flutters or bubbles.  I'll tell you, it feels like something.  Something that could be mistaken for gastrointestinal things but another something tells you it's not.  Later comes the time when it's unmistakable.  The "whoa, yup. There's someone in there."  Looking back, I can't pinpoint exactly when this happened but I do know that those "whoas" were big enough for Joe to have felt before my first midwife appointment at week 17.

I'm not a particularly sentimental person.  You will not find me oohing and ahhing to anyone and everyone about the wonders of pregnancy.  I haven't come up with any cutesy names for the child occupying my abdomen and I don't sit in his room with tears in my eyes as I sift through his clothes.  But, as this baby grows and his movements are stronger and more pronounced, I can't help but feel a special connection, beyond the physical, with this little boy.

There's the moments where he's stretching and his movements are slow but strong as if he's just waking up and pressing his back, legs and arms as far as the space will allow.  His head or back or bum protrude out the side of my belly making a hard, round surface.  I'll gently push back, sometimes out of discomfort, and he'll respond by either moving on to another spot or pushing back.

There's the times where almost instantaneously after food or drink drift across my mouth, the movements are sudden and sharp.  I imagine him throwing his fist into the air in a sort of, "woohoo, what do we have here?'  These jumps are sporadic and impossible to predict, particularly if I've had something sugary or the temperature more extreme.  A cold drink of water or a hot tea will really start the spastic dance that might last ten minutes or more.  These are the ones that are fun to watch from the outside as my belly contorts with him.

There are times when the movements are undetectable from the outside but completely rhythmic.  Logic tells me he has the hiccups but I prefer to think he's just carrying a beat, tapping along to a song in his head like his Mama is known to do.  Other times, completely unexpectedly, I'll take a single kick to an organ, usually the bladder.  By the time I've complained vocally, it's over.

At night as I'm settling into bed and reading, he begins his workout.  It's as if he crouches himself into a ball and then throws his arms and legs out, flails around a bit and returns to the ball.  Over and over again I'll feel limbs protruding on either side of my belly.  I'll tease Joe telling him his son is acting up and it's his turn to take over or I'll address the kid directly, trying to persuade him to calm down for bedtime.  But, like clockwork every night, he picks up his routine.

These movements are bizarre, occasionally uncomfortable and annoying but also kind of amazing.  While Joe partakes when he can, it's me that knows the schedule and it's me that feels the full breadth of every kick and stretch.  While we've yet to meet face to face, I'm starting to get an idea as to who this little person is - small glimpses into his personality.  I wonder if I'll recognize his moves when he's out, putting the pieces to the puzzle together confirming what I felt but couldn't see.  Even though pregnancy is fraught with more than its share of discomfort, it's in these moments of movement that I'm reminded just how incredible the entire process is.

And that's about as sentimental as I'll get.

Thoughts on Ethical Travel

Recently, the story of a Norwegian woman who reported being raped while on a business trip in Dubai and was subsequently charged and convicted with sex outside of marriage and consumption of alcohol exploded onto the international news outlets.  After condemnation by Human Rights groups, the international community and months of discussions between Norway and the UAE, the Norwegian woman was pardoned (as was the perpetrator) and she was free to leave the country.  (You can read about it here.)

Despite being known for luxury hotels, shopping and tax free wages, United Arab Emirates has been harshly criticized for its strict compliance with Islamic laws, particularly against women.  In fact, this wasn't the first case of foreign victims of rape being convicted of subsequent charges.

As I watched the story unfold here in Norway I debated whether it had changed my perspectives on the country.  Would I still visit the UAE, given the opportunity, knowing my rights were largely minimized?

Of course, the United Arab Emirates isn't the only country with a blemished history of injustice.  In fact, I think if we dug hard enough, we could find things we didn't like about every nation.  Unsafe working conditions for locals, dictatorship, child trafficking, racial segregation, religious differences, legalized prostitution, marriage inequality, corrupt government all to varying degrees in varying locations but when do we draw the line?  When do we strike a country from a travel list due to our own moral objections?

It's not cut and dry is it?  Each of us have our own hierarchy of ethics - some we can tolerate, others we can't.  Many of us make small choices daily in accord of our beliefs - buying locally grown, organic produce to curb a carbon footprint and minimize chemical use, reading labels on clothing to avoid brands and locations known to use sweatshops, adopting rescued animals in hopes to quell the puppy mill industry.  Just last week I read an article about bars in Western Canada boycotting Russian vodka due to their anti-gay laws.  Our choices might be drops in the ocean but we take the stance and hope that collectively, our voices make a difference.

Do these choices flood into travel?  Of course, in the exhibits we visit and the organizations we choose to avoid.  But, when our ethical stakes are higher, do we take a stronger standpoint?  Is it when it jeopardizes our own personal safety?  Do we set a boundary - 'when x, y & z change, I'll support the country?'  Do we risk missing out on valuable cultural experiences, as different and sometimes frightening as they may be, to be a drop in the ocean?

What do you think?

The Norwegian Printing Museum

Lately, I've been making the museum rounds throughout Stavanger and have been pleasantly surprised at the variety in our little city.  When the PWC sent an email out organizing a trip to the Norwegian Printing Museum, I'll admit, I had no idea it existed but I was intrigued.  The benefit of visiting with the PWC is the admission is usually discounted and they often arrange for a private, guided tour which in this case, was quite essential to really appreciate the exhibition.

As we arrived, we were greeted by an older Norwegian gentleman who explained, "Us old guys all used to work in the printing business.  Now we're retired but we'll show you around."  He won me over quite quickly. There was something so endearing about these men who had long moved on from the printing press yet still came around to maintain the equipment, work on a few pieces as a hobby and impart their knowledge to those who visited.

The building itself was beautiful in it's industrial glory.  Old wooden floors combined with steel supports enveloped the enormous iron machines and the smell of ink permeated the air.  The windows on the far wall peered right out onto the water and sent rays of light through the entire space.  It's almost hard to believe that it was once a simple storage space for the canneries in the early 1900s.

Stavanger had a very lively printing industry due to the abundance of canneries in the area (of course, the cans needed labels.)  Lithography was the trade of choice for labels.  The pictures and text were drawn by hand on large and heavy pieces of limestone.  Multi-coloured labels followed a careful process - each colour was hand sketched on the limestone, pressed, dried and then the next colour, on a separate lithograph, was applied.  In total, over 30 000 lithographs were made in Stavanger for the canning industry alone.

The rest of the museum was dedicated mainly to letterpress which honestly, was quite fascinating.  Up until the 1980s, letterpress was the main method of newspaper printing in the area and what an intricate and I imagine, strenuous, process.  Typesetting was done completely by hand, letter by letter, word by word almost as if arranging a puzzle daily in order to put the newspaper to press.  In 1900, the first typesetting machine came to Norway which basically works like a computer keyboard except working manually to put a cast together shaping a line of text in metal.

We were lucky enough to watch it all come together as the machine clunked and the metals tinged eventually forming a phrase.  The gentleman was kind enough to make a souvenir of sorts for us as we oohed and ahhed at the process.

The Handmade Typecast

It was really quite amazing to see the precision and effort that went into printing and while I love how technology has opened up so many opportunities for us, it made me sad to think of this massive industry and art that is practically extinct with the use of the computer taking it's place.

The Handmade Print of the Norwegian Alphabet I bought at the end of the tour.  

The tour was really quite eye opening for me and as a lover of the written word, I couldn't help but be mesmerized by the letters surrounding me, each of them being created with so much time, effort & care.

The Unnerving Experience of Haircuts Abroad

There are some things you expect to be hard when you move abroad - getting your residence visa, making friends, navigating the grocery store, figuring out public transit - and then there are things that don't cross your mind - like getting your haircut.  In fact, finding a new stylist in my inter-Canadian moves was difficult enough without the language and cultural differences.

A long time ago, I blogged about the quest to get Joe's haircut not long after we arrived in Gabon.  I never blogged about getting my haircut in Gabon because it never happened.  For the entire 2 years we lived there, I didn't get my haircut once in-country.  I debated it at one point - several friends were frequenting a French woman's salon and I thought I'd try it out until I saw a very jagged cut along the back of a friend's hair - I decided to wait.

I've always been particular about my hair stylists.  This isn't because my hair is difficult to cut or because I've had any terrible experiences but just because that's the way I am.  I don't seek out bargain cuts and I'm not afraid to pay (quite a bit) for a good experience that involves organic tea and a head massage.  Usually, as we prepared for a trip out of Gabon, I'd research a place to make an appointment.  Generally, I'd look for an Aveda salon usually due to two reasons: first, I've used Aveda products for the last 10 or so years and often need to stock up and two, Aveda salons require their staff to complete Aveda training on top of any other training they've had so there's often a high standard in their salons.  I'd phone or email asking for a senior stylist and hope for the best.  Usually, it was fine.  This process meant I'd get my haircut every 6 months at a minimum.  I think I once went 10 months - it was horrendous and I was so embarrassed when I finally did sit down in the chair.

Even though we have resided in Norway for 9 months, I had yet to have my haircut here.  (I had it done in Aberdeen before arriving and then in Canada over Christmas holidays.)  Joe has had his hair done twice but he's decidedly less picky than I am.  Salons are a dime a dozen in Norway.  It's not uncommon to see several in the span of a couple of blocks but it can be quite difficult to gage the quality.  When it came time for me to find a stylist, I relied heavily on the local expat forum for recommendations.  A particular name kept popping up who seemed to be popular with many expat women - apparently she often trains in London, speaks excellent English, cuts & colours and it can take months to get in.  I took that as a good sign and waited the 6 weeks before I could get an appointment.

The experience was really quite great and very similar to home.  She understood exactly what I wanted, talked me through everything she was doing and had great chair-side manner.  I left a happy woman - albeit much, much poorer.

A few things to note:
+Appointments can often be made online which I LOVE!  You pick your stylist, your cut, your colour and scroll through calendar which shows all available dates.
+You will often get a text message 24 hours in advance to remind you of your appointment.  (I also love this.)
+Not all stylists cut & colour and I've heard many women talk of botched colour treatments.  If you don't have recommendations and are unsure, it's probably best to go in and ask.
+Tipping is not always expected in Norway.  Everyone is paid very well here and do not require tips to supplement their salary.  I didn't tip at the end of my haircut - there was no tip function on the machine, I didn't have correct change & the cut & colour was so expensive that I figured it wasn't necessary.  I felt guilty the entire night afterwards.  I'm not sure if that was warranted but knowing me, I'll probably tip extra the next time around.
+Don't expect a style after your cut.  Mine ended with a blow out and the application of some product but it was fairly basic.
+It's going to be expensive - you're in Norway, nothing is cheap.  The cheapest I've seen is 250 kroner ($45) for a men's cut and 600 kroner ($100) for a ladies trim.  If you can't fathom paying that and above, wait until you are elsewhere.  Also, if you have a particular budget, ask ahead what the price is so you aren't surprised at the end!

Stavanger Domkirke

As part of my efforts to make friends, I joined the PWC club in Stavanger (more on that later.)  One of their regular activities is exploring different parts of the city.  This week, I joined them on a guided tour of the Stavanger Cathedral.

Stavanger Domkirke is the oldest cathedral in all of Norway, with construction starting in 1100 and finishing somewhere around 1150 although the city uses 1125 as the year it was founded.  Before this, the same location is thought to have been the site of rituals and sacrifice pre-Christianity in Norway and then a small church.  The cathedral itself has undergone many renovations over the years - first in the late 1200's when Stavanger was ravaged by fire, again in the 1800's and finally again in the late 1900's.

Originally, the cathedral was built with a dirt floor.  Wealthier patrons were able to purchase grave sites inside the church making the floor quite uneven due to graves and gravestones.  Later, everyone was moved outside to a graveyard surrounding the cathedral and even later, moved again to a larger graveyard further away.  The interior is a mix of Roman and Gothic styles and it features work by different Norwegian artists.

 

While it wasn't the most impressive cathedral I've ever been in, it's fascinating to learn about the early history of this city we get to call home.

Tips for the Expat Housewife

via

There are legions of us out there; women who have paused their careers and left their family and friends for this adventure overseas.  Some of us have embraced it willingly while other's might not be so keen.  We find ourselves in foreign country with a completely different culture, no job to occupy our time and no friends to spend the days with.  While I'm not an expert, I'd like to think I've picked up a few tips along the way.

+Get a routine.
Without a job dictating how to schedule our day, all of a sudden the day seems much, much longer and the 10+ hours our partner is away at work can feel like a lifetime.  In the beginning, it will feel like a vacation - sleeping in, napping, showering in the afternoon, watching TV & movies.  Enjoy it but do know that it will get old and pretty soon you'll be pacing.  Try to make a routine for yourself even if it's simple things like waking up, breakfast, read the news, respond to emails, shower, make bed, go for a walk to the store, etc.  It helps to have a bit of structure.

+Reach out to groups.
If you are in a location with a lot of expats, particularly within a specific field, there will most definitely be expat groups already in operation.  PWC (formerly Petroleum Wive's Club,) nameyourcity Expat group, nameyourcompany Wives - they're all there because for most foreign employees, there is a spouse who is looking for something to do.  Sometimes you'll meet someone who will connect you but sometimes you'll have to take the step on your own.  They'll help in making some friends, giving activities to fill your time and it's always good to have a community of people in the same situation as you.  You'll be able to ask questions, get recommendations and even have people to vent your frustrations to.

+Make your house a home.
You will inevitably spend a lot of time in your home so make it feel comfortable.  Rearrange furniture, organise cupboards, buy a few things to decorate, put photos out.  Sometimes it seems silly to invest in a place you know is temporary but if it makes you feel comfortable, it's worth it.

+Get transportation.
When you do meet people, it will be difficult to commit to activities if you can't get there.  Choose housing close to public transportation (if there is any,) learn to drive, buy a car, hire a driver - do what you need to do in your new city so that you can access people and places.

+Your partner will work A LOT. Prepare yourself.
In the beginning, you'll hear all sorts of things leading you to the impression that your partner will work 9-5 and have weekends and evenings to do whatever you'd like.  You were brought there because the company needs help which generally means, there's more work than there are employees.  My husband works 12 hours a day, eats dinner and pulls out his computer for a couple of hours at night.  I hate it, but it's normal.

+Learn to cook/bake a couple of things.
Life in the expat housewife lane revolves around tea & coffee mornings and evening get togethers where you will probably be asked to bring something.  There will be a range of women there from those who can put together delicious little things at the drop of the hat to those who get lost in the kitchen.  I found it embarrassing to always show up with something store bought so it's a good idea to perfect a couple of fall backs and keep those ingredients in the house for last minute events.

+What have you always wanted to do?
Think back to the days where you thought, "I really wish I had more time to __________."  Now's your time.  Occasionally you'll find yourselves in locations that won't have a photography course but buy a book or find an online program to do that thing you've always wanted to do.

+Stay positive about your career.
It's easy for career-oriented women to get a little down on the situation because they feel like they're getting behind and losing touch with their industry.  While you aren't working towards that promotion, you are not just sitting around doing nothing (even if it feels like it sometimes.)  You are learning about new cultures, you're seeing working life in other countries, you're adapting and you're doing something that a lot of other people are too afraid to do.  Your experience abroad will most definitely bring new perspectives to your job when you return so don't discount it.

The Art of Making Friends

Sunset in our neighbourhood

When we're young, we tend to make friends quite easily.  Our biggest commitment is school and let's face it, a lot of school is about social interaction.  As we get older, it starts to get a little more difficult. We have spouses and commitments and that takes away time from our friendships.  Some of our best friends move away or we move and things change.

I grew up in the same town and went to school with the same people from kindergarten through graduation.  It was impossible not to know everyone in town.  Upon graduation, I chose to go to a university that my friends weren't going to but I lived in residence and made some really great friends - in fact, some of my best friends (including my husband.)  Then we all moved away to pursue our careers. I started in another small town and after awhile, made a few friends at the school I was teaching at and as I was feeling comfortable there, the decision was made to move 7 hours North to be with Joe.  Again, I had to make all new friends.  With each move, it got a little harder.  The older I got, the more commitments I had and the same went for potential peers.  I also became a little pickier about my friends - I wanted people I connected with, who had similar interests, someone that I could hold conversations with and feel like I could be myself.

And then we moved to Gabon.

It took me about a month before I met my first English speaking friend in Port Gentil.  The next week, she took me to a group event and slowly but surely, friendships started forming.  Port Gentil is small and while the expat community is pretty large, by the end, I felt like I knew or knew of most of the other women in town.  The majority of us didn't work and had nothing but time on our hands to have coffee, go to the beach, and plan soirées.  I made some pretty unlikely friends in Gabon - people I would never imagine myself connecting with on many levels - but we needed each other.  Gabon was hard on all of us and having people that actually understood all that we were going through was essential.

Now, we're in Norway and I find myself wanting to connect with other people - to make some friends.  It's a bit more difficult here.  Some of the women work and there are loads of things to do in town from shopping to yoga to language classes.  I don't have a job that connects me with other people and I don't have children that will make friends so that I can be friends with their parents.  It's solely up to me.

This week I decided to put myself out there.  I went to a movie with the women's group, I did the field trip to Stavanger Glassblåseri, I sent emails about yoga classes and book clubs all in the name of making friends.  It takes a lot of work to connect with other people when we don't have forced interaction and unfortunately, I don't think I'm going to make any friends having a latte on my terrace.

Eventually, it will happen but it's going to take some of effort.

Where have you had the most success making friends?


{Loved this article on making friends as an adult}

Baby Boy Daniel

My menagère stopped by today with her brand new baby boy, Daniel, and my goodness - he is the tiniest, cutest little boy I've seen.

Daniel has quite an extraordinary story.

"C" had her last baby 15 years ago and she was certain her childbearing days were long gone.  It came as a complete shock when her doctor told her she was pregnant - and 4 months pregnant at that - when she went for an examination to see why she hadn't been feeling well.

Due in April, she took March off work to prepare for the baby  but Daniel wasn't done surprising her yet.  She'd had a few complications during her pregnancy but as she entered the last month, she felt good.  Last weekend, she started feeling a little off and decided to visit the doctor Monday morning.  Early Monday morning rolled around and "C" was in pain.  Within 2 hours, Daniel was born right there in her home, close to 4 weeks early.  She was all alone except for her 18 year old daughter and the 17 year old daughter of her best friend.  Immediately after he was born, they caught a taxi to the hospital to finish the rest of the delivery and get baby Daniel checked out.

I am amazed and in awe of her for the entire process.  While I know many women have given birth at home and continue to do so in many parts of the world,  I don't know anyone personally who has done it recently, especially without the help of a doula or a medical professional.  Thankfully, everything turned out fine and both Mom and baby are doing well.

Daniel is tiny and adorable - he currently weighs 2.2 kilos (4.85 lbs) at 9 days old.  His little wrist is about the size of my thumb.  It's fairly common for babies to be born small(er) than North American standards but even Daniel is considered tiny here!  He's eating well and has gained 11 grams since he was born.  I'm certain with his entrance to the world, he'll grow to be a strong boy and man.

Funny Little Story

It was a friend's birthday yesterday and a group of us ladies decided to go out for a late afternoon drink to a little place downtown on the water.  One of the ladies ordered a gin & tonic but emphasized that she'd like just a little gin (they have a tendency to pour half and half here.)  We drank our drinks and when it came time to go we began to break down the bill.  We noticed the server had forgot to charge for the gin and being the good people we are, we let her know so she could fix it.

Well she explained to us that the gin was free because it was just a little .

I saw it and it was clearly a full shot in the cup.

Lessons learned -

Alcohol really is cheap here.
Next time I feel like a highball, order 'just a little' and the booze is on the house!

 

An Evening with the Ladies

Expat housewives are always looking for something to do, particularly, another social event to organise.  We tend to do a ladies night every couple of months which switches up our normal morning cafés and it gives us something to look forward to.  This time, our Japanese friend proposed a dinner at her house and invited the women who walk in the morning.

Generally, we each bring a dish and wine or champagne to drink.  This time I decided to make a cheesecake.  Like, a real one.  I've made a few things that call themselves cheesecake but they're really just dessert with cream cheese in them.  I knew it was a bit ambitious as I'd never made one before and I had heard they were a bit finicky but I felt I needed to make a proper showing.  Many of my housewife friends here are fantastic cooks and they always seem to have something delicious to bring.  I, on the other hand, am new to this housewife stuff and while I can certainly cook, I wouldn't say I'm great at it.  I usually opt to bring an easy appetizer or if I can get away with bringing beer or wine I'm even happier because I'm never very confident about sharing what I make.

I kept my fingers crossed while rounding up the ingredients hoping everything I'd need would be in stock.  It was... but it certainly wasn't cheap.



This cheesecake was going to cost almost $60 to make!

I joked with my friends that it had better work out or we were eating anyway and they would smile and tell me it was fantastic regardless!  Luckily, it was a success!  Aside from a few cracks when cooling (I'll do a water bath next time) it turned out perfectly.

It tasted better than it looks here...

All in all, we had a lovely night and delicious food was brought by all.  I even boosted my baking confidence a bit!

New Friends?

Since we returned to Gabon, I’ve been walking with a group of ladies.  I know it doesn’t sound like much but in Port Gentil it is.  We walk a long the ocean as it’s really the only place in town where there is a semi-sidewalk and the road is fully paved so we aren’t dodging cars.  In 30+ degree heat, at the end of our 45 minutes, we’re drenched.

We often walk first thing in the morning in hopes to avoid the more intense heat later on in the day.  A few weeks in, 3 stray dogs joined us on our walks.  They were quite nice and didn’t bother us at all.  They’d tag a long and when we reached the beach area they’d take off running and swimming and catch up to us again later.  Then they disappeared.  We walked for a week with no sign of them so we figured they’d moved to a different area of town.

One morning we walked our normal route and half way down the beach there pops up one of the dogs that used to walk with us.  He ran over to join us and we laughed as we realized that that particular morning, he was in a pack of 9.  All 9 came followed him.

So there we are, walking down the street with 9 dogs taking up half the road trying to walk alongside us.  We passed a police checkstop and they started by congratulating us on our exercise (not normal to see a group of white women walking) and then laughed as they commented on our ‘friends.’  Taxis honked and other expat friends who happened to drive by killed themselves laughing at the site of us.

I sure hope that if they join us again in the future it’s back to the group of 3 as 9 is just way too many dogs!

What do you do?

When you meet someone new one of the first things you ask is, “What do you do?”  It’s an easy conversation starter and in our culture, our career is so much of our life.  I defined myself as a teacher before anything else, especially in the first couple of years of teaching, because my profession consumed the majority of my life.

In the expat community, the wives are defined by their husband, their home country, their language and the company they are with.  When you meet a newcomer the first questions you ask are, “What company are you with,” or “Where are you from,” and even, “What does your husband do?”  Here, we’re all housewives.  If we asked one another “What do you do,” I think the response would be “Nothing really.”

Today, after our morning walk, we stopped for a coffee.  A girl I’ve known for quite some time now asked me, “What did you do at home?”  I explained that I was a teacher and she told me that she was a petroleum engineer.  I found it so odd that we’ve been acquaintances for so long now and neither of us knew what each other did, or I suppose, used to do.  Then I started thinking, I don’t know what the majority of my friends used to do.  Even the ones I’m quite close with.  Do all of us have these past lives that we hardly ever talk about?