it’s funny how little you understand as an expat sometimes, and how quickly the unexpected becomes commonplace. just now enid was showering, getting ready to go out to dinner, play the corporate wife and help the man woo some visitors from the usa. then the doorbell rang and the dogs let rip as if a horde of people in stripey jumpers were making off with the family heirlooms.
drat, thought enid. she pulled a dressing gown on and ran downstairs. the video entryphone showed two policemen in peaked caps. enid opened the door and tiptoed onto the landing (it was dirty, and she had bare feet). policeman 1 greeted her, then let off a barrage of less comprehensible russian.
“i’m sorry, i don’t speak russian,” enid replied in her best russian.
policeman 2 dredged his memory, and the interrogation began in english.
“name?”
“father name?”
“birthday?”
“number this house?”
enid gave her answers, then the policemen apologised (for getting her out of the shower, she presumed) and went away.
why did they want that information? were they checking on the address enid gave at immigration? will enid get in trouble because she’s living in the country but only has a three month tourist visa? will they be deported? were they just getting out of the rain? enid hasn’t the foggiest.
she reflects that, had this happened in the uk, she’d have wanted to make damn sure why the police wanted this information before giving it to them. perhaps she’s just a sissy who’s scared of police with guns - or perhaps she’s been an expat too long.
Monday, January 15
Friday, January 12
a happy ending
the man is never quite sure what to say to his friends when they present him with a squealing red bundle of baby and say “isn’t she cute?” - to be honest, "cute" is not usually the adjective that crosses his mind.
enid came up with an idea. she was reading the interweb one day, and discovered that new mothers often comment on how much their new babies look like their fathers. (without being conscious of it, they probably do it reassure their husband that the child is his.) “there you go,” she told the man. “if the parents point out its big blue eyes, say then say they’re just like its father’s. the same with hair colour, or whatever they choose to pick up on.”
this morning hank phoned to say that he wouldn't come to clean today after all. at 3 am, olga had given birth to his baby - a month early.
“boy or girl?” asked the man, politely.
“boy - and his testicles are the size of melons!”
“just like his fa... uh, no...”
enid came up with an idea. she was reading the interweb one day, and discovered that new mothers often comment on how much their new babies look like their fathers. (without being conscious of it, they probably do it reassure their husband that the child is his.) “there you go,” she told the man. “if the parents point out its big blue eyes, say then say they’re just like its father’s. the same with hair colour, or whatever they choose to pick up on.”
this morning hank phoned to say that he wouldn't come to clean today after all. at 3 am, olga had given birth to his baby - a month early.
“boy or girl?” asked the man, politely.
“boy - and his testicles are the size of melons!”
“just like his fa... uh, no...”
Thursday, January 11
life's not hollywood
sometimes life is disappointingly not like a film. all the amateur dramatics of yesterday didn’t lead to a hollywood ending - not great romance, nor a car chase.
the man took hank to the station. they searched the precinct and the coffee shops, then when the platform was announced, searched that too. no olga. hank was left on guard at the turnstile while the man searched the station again. still no olga. when the train left without her on it, the man drove hank to a police station so he could report his passport missing.
a few hours later, olga phoned the man. “i’ve taken hank’s passport by mistake,” she said. “it was in the bag with all my documents.”
the man told olga that he assumed she didn’t want to meet hank, so she could drop the passport off at our flat.
“oh, no, i want to see him,” she said. “where is he?”
not wanting to worry her by telling her hank was last seen at the police station, the man told her that he thought hank was going home after he’d finished searching in town, and sending some emails from an internet café.
late last night, hank called. “it’s all back on again,” he said. “we’ve made it up. can i come and clean on friday?”
the man took hank to the station. they searched the precinct and the coffee shops, then when the platform was announced, searched that too. no olga. hank was left on guard at the turnstile while the man searched the station again. still no olga. when the train left without her on it, the man drove hank to a police station so he could report his passport missing.
a few hours later, olga phoned the man. “i’ve taken hank’s passport by mistake,” she said. “it was in the bag with all my documents.”
the man told olga that he assumed she didn’t want to meet hank, so she could drop the passport off at our flat.
“oh, no, i want to see him,” she said. “where is he?”
not wanting to worry her by telling her hank was last seen at the police station, the man told her that he thought hank was going home after he’d finished searching in town, and sending some emails from an internet café.
late last night, hank called. “it’s all back on again,” he said. “we’ve made it up. can i come and clean on friday?”
Wednesday, January 10
introducing hank
when she started work on her contract, enid employed a cleaner. well, to be accurate, two cleaners - a molvanian woman called natalie and an american man called hank. enid thought this doubling up was a good idea, because often cleaners disappear, and this way she’d have one in reserve, like on blue peter. (and she turned out to be right - in november natalie’s child was ill, and natalie took two weeks off to visit the hospital. then she didn’t come back, and didn’t answer her phone either. enid hopes all is well with her, and worries that it isn’t, but that is another story.)
hank is a very odd person indeed. he came to molvania to marry olga, a local woman he’d met on the internet. hank arrived with just his american passport in his pocket - no money, no job, no return ticket. he met his internet bride, and married her, despite a screaming row the night before the wedding about their differing views on bringing up olga’s two children. (olga believes in motherly love and the gentle approach. hank is a mid-westerner who has served in the us army, and he believes in discipline, sometimes physical.)
after a few months of poverty in olga’s home town, hank and olga moved to kernib, the capital of molvania, leaving the children with their grandmother. after a few weeks, hank got his job with enid, and olga found work too. they moved into a small flat, and everything was looking good. but then (and “but then” is something you often write when telling hank’s story) they got pregnant. olga lost her job, and money was tight, until she found bar work which paid quite well. but then (see) olga grew too pregnant to duck under the bar and had to resign. hank and olga fell behind with their rent, were chucked out of their flat, and had to spend a few nights in a motel.
enid and the man ‘lent’ hank some money and olga found another apartment, cheaper than the last. olga got work on a sex chat line, and started spending her nights talking to americans. hank was jealous because he and olga had started this way. who knows, olga might get talking to a richer american.
a few months later, a woman turned up at hank’s apartment, asking for money she claimed she was owed. hank told enid proudly how he’d opened the door and pushed the woman over, then gone to the balcony and thrown bottles at her and her husband as they left. enid became nervous, and made sure hank cleaned on wednesdays, when the man is there because he works from home that day. really she’d have liked to have sacked hank, but she knew her money was all that was keeping hank and olga off the streets.
things settled down for a while. instead of his usual stories of how incompetent, emotional and pathetic olga was, hank started saying that she was a fine woman, and a hard worker. enid sighed - perhaps it would work out in the end, this ridiculous marriage.
but then, this morning, hank arrived in a terrible state. last night, after midnight, a woman had telephoned their apartment and asked for hank. olga thought he was having an affair (although he claimed that she was just answering an advert they’d put in the paper months ago offering hank’s services in any english-speaking job. “call anytime, it said,” hank told enid. “yeah, right,” thought enid.). olga took hank’s passport, got in a taxi and left. now all hank has in the world is £2 and his west virginia driver’s licence.
the man called the american embassy for hank, and told them the story.
“oh, not another one,” they said, and offered no help at all.
hank knows that the only train back to olga’s home town leaves the main railway station at noon today. he and the man have driven off there to try to catch olga and retrieve the passport.
hank claims that this time he’s through with olga and he’ll be off back home if he can get his documents. poor olga. poor hank.
hank is a very odd person indeed. he came to molvania to marry olga, a local woman he’d met on the internet. hank arrived with just his american passport in his pocket - no money, no job, no return ticket. he met his internet bride, and married her, despite a screaming row the night before the wedding about their differing views on bringing up olga’s two children. (olga believes in motherly love and the gentle approach. hank is a mid-westerner who has served in the us army, and he believes in discipline, sometimes physical.)
after a few months of poverty in olga’s home town, hank and olga moved to kernib, the capital of molvania, leaving the children with their grandmother. after a few weeks, hank got his job with enid, and olga found work too. they moved into a small flat, and everything was looking good. but then (and “but then” is something you often write when telling hank’s story) they got pregnant. olga lost her job, and money was tight, until she found bar work which paid quite well. but then (see) olga grew too pregnant to duck under the bar and had to resign. hank and olga fell behind with their rent, were chucked out of their flat, and had to spend a few nights in a motel.
enid and the man ‘lent’ hank some money and olga found another apartment, cheaper than the last. olga got work on a sex chat line, and started spending her nights talking to americans. hank was jealous because he and olga had started this way. who knows, olga might get talking to a richer american.
a few months later, a woman turned up at hank’s apartment, asking for money she claimed she was owed. hank told enid proudly how he’d opened the door and pushed the woman over, then gone to the balcony and thrown bottles at her and her husband as they left. enid became nervous, and made sure hank cleaned on wednesdays, when the man is there because he works from home that day. really she’d have liked to have sacked hank, but she knew her money was all that was keeping hank and olga off the streets.
things settled down for a while. instead of his usual stories of how incompetent, emotional and pathetic olga was, hank started saying that she was a fine woman, and a hard worker. enid sighed - perhaps it would work out in the end, this ridiculous marriage.
but then, this morning, hank arrived in a terrible state. last night, after midnight, a woman had telephoned their apartment and asked for hank. olga thought he was having an affair (although he claimed that she was just answering an advert they’d put in the paper months ago offering hank’s services in any english-speaking job. “call anytime, it said,” hank told enid. “yeah, right,” thought enid.). olga took hank’s passport, got in a taxi and left. now all hank has in the world is £2 and his west virginia driver’s licence.
the man called the american embassy for hank, and told them the story.
“oh, not another one,” they said, and offered no help at all.
hank knows that the only train back to olga’s home town leaves the main railway station at noon today. he and the man have driven off there to try to catch olga and retrieve the passport.
hank claims that this time he’s through with olga and he’ll be off back home if he can get his documents. poor olga. poor hank.
stay hungry
so, this is enid’s new way of eating. (not diet, it’s not temporary, she likes it so much she’s going to do it forever.) be warned, it’s not based on current thinking about when to eat, probably not at all good for you, and enid is not a doctor. what it is is simple.
enid doesn’t eat all day, and then she eats and drinks whatever she likes for dinner.
that’s it.
all of it.
it’s easy to understand and there’s no counting of calories or fat units - that kind of thing is far too difficult to keep up. people start in a rush of enthusiasm, but then they get fed up of all the accountancy and they can’t be bothered any more, and the weight piles back on.
enid also thinks eating is a bit like an addiction, and banning eating from most of the day has helped her a lot. she’s one of those people who, once she’s started eating, tends to be popping into the kitchen every five minutes for another bit of cheese, or a biscuit. now she knows she doesn’t need to think about food, and it clears her mind for other things. she does want a break from the computer every so often, so she indulges in really good coffee and herbal teas.
people ask enid, “don’t you get incredibly hungry?”
enid replies, “well, yes, i do - but in a way that’s the point. now the food i eat at dinner tastes like the most amazing food in the world, because i’m properly hungry, not full from lunch and snacking. anyway, after a week or so, i stopped being so very hungry all day, and got used to the feeling too. now, when i have lunch, i feel full and too sleepy to work - particularly if i eat carbohydrates.”
people say, “have lunch? do you break your diet then?”
enid says, “no, because it’s not a diet, it’s just staying hungry. sometimes i have to fit in with the people around me, sometimes i know i really need to eat. it’s not a prison sentence, it’s a choice.”
“fit in with the people around you?”
“yes. if christmas dinner is served at 2, i don’t annoy everyone by saying i only eat after 7. so long as i’m losing weight slowly, i’m happy. i’ll get there in the end.”
“so you eat lunch and breakfast whenever anyone else does?”
“no, just when it’s a special occasion, like christmas or a holiday. if i want to keep someone company, and stop them feeling awkward, but i don’t want to eat, i’ll have a piece of fruit, or drink some soup.”
“you’re weird.”
“thanks.”
enid doesn’t eat all day, and then she eats and drinks whatever she likes for dinner.
that’s it.
all of it.
it’s easy to understand and there’s no counting of calories or fat units - that kind of thing is far too difficult to keep up. people start in a rush of enthusiasm, but then they get fed up of all the accountancy and they can’t be bothered any more, and the weight piles back on.
enid also thinks eating is a bit like an addiction, and banning eating from most of the day has helped her a lot. she’s one of those people who, once she’s started eating, tends to be popping into the kitchen every five minutes for another bit of cheese, or a biscuit. now she knows she doesn’t need to think about food, and it clears her mind for other things. she does want a break from the computer every so often, so she indulges in really good coffee and herbal teas.
people ask enid, “don’t you get incredibly hungry?”
enid replies, “well, yes, i do - but in a way that’s the point. now the food i eat at dinner tastes like the most amazing food in the world, because i’m properly hungry, not full from lunch and snacking. anyway, after a week or so, i stopped being so very hungry all day, and got used to the feeling too. now, when i have lunch, i feel full and too sleepy to work - particularly if i eat carbohydrates.”
people say, “have lunch? do you break your diet then?”
enid says, “no, because it’s not a diet, it’s just staying hungry. sometimes i have to fit in with the people around me, sometimes i know i really need to eat. it’s not a prison sentence, it’s a choice.”
“fit in with the people around you?”
“yes. if christmas dinner is served at 2, i don’t annoy everyone by saying i only eat after 7. so long as i’m losing weight slowly, i’m happy. i’ll get there in the end.”
“so you eat lunch and breakfast whenever anyone else does?”
“no, just when it’s a special occasion, like christmas or a holiday. if i want to keep someone company, and stop them feeling awkward, but i don’t want to eat, i’ll have a piece of fruit, or drink some soup.”
“you’re weird.”
“thanks.”
Tuesday, January 9
back in the ussr
enid doesn’t know how unlucky she is, boy. molvania is actually very warm for january, like the rest of the world.for the first time anyone can remember, there hasn’t been snow at new year. (is global warming really so bad? sometimes enid wonders.)
but the long sad drive from the airport, along the only motorway in the country, is even more depressing in the grey sludge-light than it would have been if it were lightened by snow. the soviet apartment blocks look more depressing, the ladas look more beaten up, the countryside looks older and flatter.
if it weren’t for missing the dogs so much, enid would find it unbearable to be back.
but the long sad drive from the airport, along the only motorway in the country, is even more depressing in the grey sludge-light than it would have been if it were lightened by snow. the soviet apartment blocks look more depressing, the ladas look more beaten up, the countryside looks older and flatter.
if it weren’t for missing the dogs so much, enid would find it unbearable to be back.
Monday, January 8
birthday boy
today the man has one of those birthdays ending in zero that everyone takes more seriously than the ordinary sort. (enid thinks it strange that if we’d had three fingers and a thumb, we’d be having these kind of celebrations every eight years, rather than every ten.)
the event was celebrated two days before with a family dinner at the box tree in ilkley. this is the restaurant where the man celebrated his twenty-first - even with the same people (but, for most of them, not the same waist measurements or hair colour). actually, not quite the same people - tm had a different squeeze then, a thing which one person too many pointed out to enid. the same people were mil, tm’s brother dick and his wife gale, and tm’s sister, tease, and her husband gared.
mil paid for a people-carrier taxi as tm’s present, so that nobody had to drive. as the cab climbed the pennines, enid (who is from kent) decided to pronounce all the names of the places as they were written, e.g. “will we be going through tod-mor-den?” she does this on most visits, and it never fails to amuse her (but not the others).
in the restaurant, once comments about the unchanging decor were out of the way, champagne was ordered and tm opened his presents. the best was from mil - a slide rule used by tm’s father, who was an engineer. tm’s father died when tm was five, so everyone was a bit choked by this present. enid gave tm a watch which tm had chosen himself, and so was lacking in excitement value and a bit of a let down really.
the food was excellent, and enid is sorry to report that she ate rather too much. she had roasted scallops, then some lovely rare beef, then cheese and finally a prune and armagnac soufflé.
the man and gared had an amaretto with their coffee, because they had had one in a restaurant in highgate once despite hating it, and have laughed about it ever since. now they’ve done it twice, enid thinks they must be either insane, or secret sticky drink lovers.
the event was celebrated two days before with a family dinner at the box tree in ilkley. this is the restaurant where the man celebrated his twenty-first - even with the same people (but, for most of them, not the same waist measurements or hair colour). actually, not quite the same people - tm had a different squeeze then, a thing which one person too many pointed out to enid. the same people were mil, tm’s brother dick and his wife gale, and tm’s sister, tease, and her husband gared.
mil paid for a people-carrier taxi as tm’s present, so that nobody had to drive. as the cab climbed the pennines, enid (who is from kent) decided to pronounce all the names of the places as they were written, e.g. “will we be going through tod-mor-den?” she does this on most visits, and it never fails to amuse her (but not the others).
in the restaurant, once comments about the unchanging decor were out of the way, champagne was ordered and tm opened his presents. the best was from mil - a slide rule used by tm’s father, who was an engineer. tm’s father died when tm was five, so everyone was a bit choked by this present. enid gave tm a watch which tm had chosen himself, and so was lacking in excitement value and a bit of a let down really.
the food was excellent, and enid is sorry to report that she ate rather too much. she had roasted scallops, then some lovely rare beef, then cheese and finally a prune and armagnac soufflé.
the man and gared had an amaretto with their coffee, because they had had one in a restaurant in highgate once despite hating it, and have laughed about it ever since. now they’ve done it twice, enid thinks they must be either insane, or secret sticky drink lovers.
Friday, January 5
fondue murder in shirt shock
enid has a fantastic mother-in-law, who stands in the kitchen ironing the man’s clothes while enid plays with the interweb. well, that’s not quite right. just now mil had put the ironing on hold to read a shirt. “what does this mean?” she asks, “switzerland was a very long way from salt lake, but i wanted to get a long way from that den of iniquity - far enough to forget a few people, and far enough for them to forget me.”
enid had to admit she had no idea why anyone would write a pot-boiler on the inside of a shirt. together, enid and her mother-in-law explored the garment and found another panel which claimed that an alpine fondue, #1050, was evidence of a murder weapon.
curiosity peaked, enid turned to the internet, and found this http://snipurl.com/16n0s. it seems that the makers of the man’s new shirt write a novella each season - this one is about jackson archer, a private eye from salt lake city. he needs a vacation and hopes the quiet charm of château lenzerheide, with its soothing views of the weisse kiefern peak, will clear his mind. no such luck: on the night of his arrival, the owner of the chalet is mysteriously murdered with a fondue fork.
apparently the story and the clues that lead archer to solve the mystery are sewn into the label's clothes. enid has informed the man that they need to recover their finances after christmas before he can even think of reading more about the main suspect, suzette claris, a chic but pouty french actress.
enid had to admit she had no idea why anyone would write a pot-boiler on the inside of a shirt. together, enid and her mother-in-law explored the garment and found another panel which claimed that an alpine fondue, #1050, was evidence of a murder weapon.
curiosity peaked, enid turned to the internet, and found this http://snipurl.com/16n0s. it seems that the makers of the man’s new shirt write a novella each season - this one is about jackson archer, a private eye from salt lake city. he needs a vacation and hopes the quiet charm of château lenzerheide, with its soothing views of the weisse kiefern peak, will clear his mind. no such luck: on the night of his arrival, the owner of the chalet is mysteriously murdered with a fondue fork.
apparently the story and the clues that lead archer to solve the mystery are sewn into the label's clothes. enid has informed the man that they need to recover their finances after christmas before he can even think of reading more about the main suspect, suzette claris, a chic but pouty french actress.
Wednesday, January 3
not banking on it
at the moment, enid is very, very cross with her bank (which she’ll call hbsc to disguise its true identity). she thinks it comes off very badly as a place for keeping her money when compared to a shoebox under her bed:
does enid have instant access to her money?
hbsc: no, just £200 a day
shoebox: yes, all of it
if enid checks into a hotel in her maiden name, does that matter?
hbsc: yes, because her cards are in her married name and the hotel thinks she’s nicked them
shoebox: no
if enid leaves molvania, where all she can buy are crappy wooden dolls and vodka, and goes to london, and spends lots of money, is her access to her own money stopped?
hbsc: yes, because it’s an “unusual spending pattern” - i.e. someone might have nicked the card and then we lose money, and we don’t want that do we, so better to cause enid some pretty major inconvenience.
shoebox: no
enid supposes her bank has other advantages, but she doesn’t want to think of them now because she’s still cross.
does enid have instant access to her money?
hbsc: no, just £200 a day
shoebox: yes, all of it
if enid checks into a hotel in her maiden name, does that matter?
hbsc: yes, because her cards are in her married name and the hotel thinks she’s nicked them
shoebox: no
if enid leaves molvania, where all she can buy are crappy wooden dolls and vodka, and goes to london, and spends lots of money, is her access to her own money stopped?
hbsc: yes, because it’s an “unusual spending pattern” - i.e. someone might have nicked the card and then we lose money, and we don’t want that do we, so better to cause enid some pretty major inconvenience.
shoebox: no
enid supposes her bank has other advantages, but she doesn’t want to think of them now because she’s still cross.
Tuesday, January 2
2007
2006 brought enid both ups and downs:
:-( enid unwillingly left the south of france followed the man to moldova on christmas eve 2005, and was very unhappy and lonely for the first part of 2006.
:-) in the middle of the year enid discovered antidepressants and a better attitude - and the sun came out. she made a wonderful moldovan friend, who is bringing up her baby on her own without a complaint.
:-( satan and fluffy were bitten by moldovan insects in the summer, and were so ill they needed blood transfusions.
:-) in august enid started a new long term contract with her old english employer, and felt a bit better about herself. she also got to visit london every month, see old friends and buy essentials like books and DVDs.
:-) in september enid and the man moved to a lovely flat in the centre of town, from where enid can walk to a english bookshop, an austrian cake shop and the pub. what more could a girl want?
:-) to be thinner, of course. in october, enid invented her own diet, which works so well that she has so far lost 20lb, despite the cake shop and the pub, and she can now buy nice girly clothes when she visits london.
enid hopes that 2007 will return english-speaking culture and friends to her life as she moves to america. she hopes that anyone reading this blog finds their heart’s desire in 2007 too.
:-( enid unwillingly left the south of france followed the man to moldova on christmas eve 2005, and was very unhappy and lonely for the first part of 2006.
:-) in the middle of the year enid discovered antidepressants and a better attitude - and the sun came out. she made a wonderful moldovan friend, who is bringing up her baby on her own without a complaint.
:-( satan and fluffy were bitten by moldovan insects in the summer, and were so ill they needed blood transfusions.
:-) in august enid started a new long term contract with her old english employer, and felt a bit better about herself. she also got to visit london every month, see old friends and buy essentials like books and DVDs.
:-) in september enid and the man moved to a lovely flat in the centre of town, from where enid can walk to a english bookshop, an austrian cake shop and the pub. what more could a girl want?
:-) to be thinner, of course. in october, enid invented her own diet, which works so well that she has so far lost 20lb, despite the cake shop and the pub, and she can now buy nice girly clothes when she visits london.
enid hopes that 2007 will return english-speaking culture and friends to her life as she moves to america. she hopes that anyone reading this blog finds their heart’s desire in 2007 too.
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