I first met Tamara 14 months ago on the sidewalk in front of our neighbor’s house.
It was a cold, late Sunday afternoon in December, the air heavy with moisture off the frigid North Sea. The weak sun had managed to emerge briefly from behind large swaths of gun metal gray clouds. Husband and I had just left the house to take Oli on a walk in the nearby wooded parkland before it got too dark.
We were barely more than 30 feet when we encountered a couple looking to be slightly older than us walking in our direction. Husband pulled up on the dog’s leash and exchanged greetings with the man as they approached.
Introductions were made and the conversation took on the friendly yet slightly inquisitive tone of people scoping each other out: how long had they (and we) been in The Hague, how did they (and we) like the neighborhood, how refreshing it was to see so many people outside walking and biking all the time, did we/they have children, where our respective sons were attending university and what they were studying, were they getting settled in alright, how were they coping with the damp cold and darker days?
James was Husband’s new boss (‘second level supervisor’ in organizational parlance); he and Tamara, American expats like us, had arrived from another European capital two months earlier. I knew that Husband found James to be a sharp, knowledgeable and colleagial sort of fellow.
Tamara initially seemed a little reserved but as the conversation flowed she joined in more freely: she had inquisitive eyes, a warm smile and an easy laugh.
We eventually bid our goodbyes with the mutual promise that we had to get together for dinner sometime.
Well, finally a fellow American woman here in the neighborhood, I remember thinking. She seemed friendly enough, and it would be nice to hear a familiar accent from time to time. We continued our walk, me flush with the promise that a new acquaintance might possibly end up becoming a friend.
Time passed quickly as the Christmas and New Year’s holiday came and went, followed by the dark, dreary days of January and February. I tended to be at home researching and writing most days, venturing out occasionally to meet up with friends or attend a class; mid-to-late afternoons were taken up with walking the dog, picking up Daughter from school activities, ducking out to the Albert Heijn for that evening’s dinner or running last minute errands on the Fred.
Every so often I’d run into Tamara and we’d lapse into easygoing chat about husbands, children, neighbors and the weather. I knew she was dealing with an empty nest but she always seemed genuinely upbeat and had become involved with an international women’s group. We would declare how we needed to get together for koffie or maybe grab lunch at a nearby café sometime, but between my projects and chauffer duties and the volunteer work she’d taken on, we never could seem to find the time.
I’d walk away thinking We really should invite them to dinner sometime, but we both always seemed so busy and besides, I wasn’t sure of the office etiquette as to who asks whom when one’s boss was involved.
A month later I caught sight of James and Tamara on their bikes one weekend afternoon, bundled up against the chill wind, riding side by side.
The days grew longer, the temperature climbed and the trees grew heavy with blossoms. One Friday afternoon in late April Husband came home with an invitation from James and Tamara for dinner two weeks later.
Oh good, I thought. It will be nice to finally spend some time getting to know them better. We’d go have a nice meal and convivial evening, then we’d reciprocate the invitation, and the next thing you know we’d all be friends.
I knew that as employer and employee Husband and James might choose to keep a certain reserve between themselves, but it still would be nice to get together as couples now and then. More importantly, Tamara and I would be able to accelerate our friendship; it was clear we enjoyed chatting whenever we ran into each other, and a get-to-know-you dinner was just the thing to cement ties.
Husband and I enjoyed the dinner immensely. Tamara and James had invited another couple and the six of us spent an enjoyable evening of delicious food, flowing wine and effortless conversation.
Tamara and James regaled us with tales of meeting in a Southeast Asian country while both were idealistic dreamers brand new to international development work. They met and married, Tamara chose to stay at home when they had their son, and life became a dazzling parade of one exotic locale after another as James’s career progressed.
She was witty and lively and relaxed; James was an accomplished cook and an eager party to the fun. They made a good team, cooking and serving and making us feel at home.
I promptly sent a thank you email and mentioned we should set a date to have them over to our house. When I saw Tamara two days later she lamented the fact that she was getting ready for a short trip to their previous city to visit friends. Upon her return their son would be arriving back in The Hague, fresh from six months in a study abroad program in Japan.
Shortly after that, Daughter and I would be heading back to the US for college visits and time spent with family. My father had been diagnosed with cancer and had been experiencing additional medical problems; we wanted to spend as much time as possible with them.
What about mid-July when Daughter and I would get back? They would be getting their son ready to return to school followed by their own summer holiday. By the time they returned in early August, we would be off on a family trip before Son had to head back to the States for university.
But as often happens, fate intervened.
My father’s health took a turn for the worse, Daughter and I extended our stay while Husband cancelled the vacation plans, and he and Son joined us at my parents. We returned to The Netherlands right as Daughter’s school was about to start, and suddenly weekends were consumed with catching up on chores on the to do list, last minute shopping and her sporting events.
I ran into Tamara once in September (James was traveling, she was up to her eyeballs in work preparing for an upcoming volunteer event) and again in early October. Both times we hit it off, but the stars never seemed to align to get everyone together.
In our last conversation two days before I was to make a quick trip back to visit my ailing parents again, we laughed about the scheduling difficulties. It nagged at me how months had already slipped by, but I knew we’d have plenty of time to make it right once we both got over the pop-up hurdles life kept throwing our way.
When I returned from Florida in mid-October, Tamara was off to Southeast Asia to visit old friends. I remember thinking that she’d be back by Halloween, but then another far more serious family emergency presented itself, and immediately our time, attention and energy were focused elsewhere.
It wasn’t until early December that I surfaced enough from dealing with that last crisis to inquire of Husband about Tamara and James. That’s when he dropped the bombshell: Tamara had left James weeks earlier. Apparently she’d taken a trip back to Indonesia to visit friends and decided not to return to life with him in The Hague.
I was stunned. It wasn’t that I hadn’t seen it coming (although I didn’t), because I know that no one can really know what goes on in a marriage, and Tamara certainly never opened up about any unhappiness or difficulties. I felt badly for both of them, knowing that when a marriage ends, no matter how amicably or not, there is great sadness, pain and grief both for what the parties once had and for what had become of that somewhere along the way.
I felt as though I’d let Tamara down, hadn’t done enough to make make her feel welcome and help her find her way in a new place, racking my memory for fear I’d missed signals of loneliness and despair. I felt sorry for James, left adrift by himself without family or close friends to help pick up the pieces.
And as selfish as it sounds – and indeed it is – I mourn the loss of the promise of the deeper friendship we never had.
But isn’t that always the way? You make plans (or intend to) and then life intervenes. The same thing happened to me, with a fabulous woman I met in Singapore. It was just before I left for home leave, and we promised to get together once I got back. Only by the time I returned to Singapore, she was gone. In hindsight I shouldn’t have been so surprised as she was clearly miserable with expat life. But I remember thinking, just like you, “damn, getting together with her would’ve been a lot of fun.” The universe giveth, and the universe taketh away.
‘The universe giveth, and the universe taketh away.’ That it does, Maria. That it does. I can only wish her well wherever she is and try to act a little quicker next time.
So many couples come to Portugal in search of a better life. Some on a wing and a financial prayer hoping to find work in the sun, retirees following their dream and others who have just remarried and want to start afresh.
Whatever the reason in the early days I used to befriend everyone and listen to their problems. My husband said I was a soft touch and perhaps he was right but in a way (I’m still thinking this one through) I could not turn my back on someone who was unhappy.
However, that said, did I hear from any of these women once they returned home? They sapped my inner strength, I hugged them, cried with them, listened to all their marital problems and tales of depression or alcoholism – no, of course not. We were just ships in the night and they were on the first boat home when the going got tough.
Husband is relieved I’ve learned to distance myself from people, but there is still a caring streak in me that still wants to reach out…but I know the consequences…
To be honest, I don’t have enough fingers and toes to count all the casualties of expat life here in Portugal. It sounds tough and even uncaring, but I’m not. I feel emotionally drained. 🙂
What a heartfelt, touching comment on the unintended consequences of always helping those having difficulties, Carole. Thank you so much for this. It shows the need for balance in being supportive and maintaining our own emotional resiliency reserves. I doubt Tamara would have opened up to me about what was going on in her personal life, nor do I believe things would necessarily have turned out differently. Still, I wish I could have known her better…
Hi Linda,
We often say “if only”, but at the end of the day when we live far from the familiarity and comfort of family and friends, especially in a country where the culture or language is alien to our soul, problems or feelings are magnified out of proportion.
I think the biggest problem I have encountered amongst expats here is depression. One woman in particular I spent two years trying to help her…in the end I gave up – I had to, as she was pulling me into her well of despair.
I came to realise she enjoyed being the centre of attention and wallowing in self-pity. Another two years down the line and she is exactly the same. 🙂 I now look on and smile as others are sucked in, but I say nothing.
Expat life can be tough and perhaps Tamara had marital problems before she even moved to the Netherlands.
Virtual Hugsx
Carole
I’m glad you added this Piglet, thank you. Some do enjoy wallowing (don’t they everywhere?) but others really slide down when they aren’t in a country/culture to which they can relate. Depression is an issue for many, but it’s also a sense of not understanding what it is to make it in another place. You really aren’t simply transferring yourself wholesale; if it were that then far more would do it. You have to be ready to accept and/or adapt, otherwise you’ll wallow. I’ve always been involved with cross-cultural issues so it made me more aware and accommodating.
Oh how I can relate. The near ‘misses’ of friendships that leave you wondering what might have been. I take the approach that if the moment passes me/(us) by, if friendship was meant to be, then the opportunity will come again, whether with that partic. person or someone who evokes similar feelings. Otherwise, quite frankly, I would go mad with the whys and what ifs.
Maybe your ‘moment’ is yet to come…
I think you’re right Kym. I feel regret, not guilt. Perhaps the passing presence of Tamara was meant to serve as a reminder to ‘seize the day’ when it comes to the possibilities of friendship. Carpe Diem
Carpe Diem is a good mantra for anyone, not just expats. Many of us are good at following that advice when we first arrive in a new location – say “yes” to every invitation, etc – but as time goes on and we settle into a routine and get busier, it’s easy to forget. Thanks for reminding us (expat or repat) that we none of us know what that future holds. See an opportunity? Grab it while you can.
Exactly, Judy, thanks. Couldn’t have said it better!
I am sorry to hear about what happened to you new friends.
Expat life with its many transitions, certainly does put a strain on married life, even the most long standing ones… To keep talking and listening to each other is usually a help, and some might think its a cliche, but how many of us remember to do it well when things get tough? When we’re struggling its tempting to shut down, and as you say LAJ, we need time to adapt to our changed circumstances. Compassion for ourselves during transition is really okay!
Yet another great comment, that’s why I love the expat/TCK/repat community! Thanks Laura. Cutting ourselves some slack is important. How well can we really practice compassion for others if we can’t even practice it with ourselves? And the point about really talking and listening was a great lesson in An Inconvenient Posting. Great book you wrote there 😉
Expat life can bring so many opportunities, but it requires a lot from a person, too. Always seeking the balance, aren’t we? Even when we’d like to invest in a potential friendship, we aren’t always given the chance.
That we are, Marney, always seeking the balance. Thank you 🙂