Standing Still

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There was a night last fall when I found myself with colleagues standing in the middle of the Red Square at around 11:00 pm and all I could think about was going back to the hotel and sleeping. The next week I was in Rome standing in front of the Colliseum with a similiar thought. I was standing in the midst of some of the most historic places in the world and I was no longer thrilled. I was just tired. And that is when I knew I needed a break.

With this in mind, I took some actions that put forth a chain of events that caused me to move "home" to  Boston in late October. This has been just about the longest time I've been home in the US in 9 years.

I've been back in the US for almost 3 months now. And for the first time in a very long time, this International Woman of Mystery is standing still. Completely still. And I'm freaking out.*

And this stillness is making me crazy. I thought that standing still would be good for me, that taking a moment out of the jet-set madness that was my life would help me figure out who I am, what I'm doing and what I want to do next. I thought that moving back to the US would give me some answers as to what I want my life to be. I thought that stopping the non-stop travel and the long hours and the crazy work, would give me some perspective. I thought that maybe living in the place where I'm from and stopping the constant work-related travel would make it easier to meet men and form better friendships. I thought that for the first time in a long time, I could establish a routine and stick to it. I thought that standing still would be good for me, and in many ways it probably has been... But it has not been easy. I didn't think it would be easy.

But I didn't think it would be this hard.

At first it was exciting. It was like moving to a new country but with old familiarity. And there was all the logistics of finding a place, starting the job, getting settled. And that at least kept me very busy.  Now that the craziness of the move is over, and I've had time to take stock of my new world, it's suddenly starting to hit me. This is my life.

This is it. And it's lonely. There were days in the not so recent past that I would have killed for a few free seconds, for a three week period where I didn't have to fly somewhere, for a work day that started at 9 and ended at 6, for a day where people weren't lining up at my desk to ask me questions or get my advice, for a day when  I didn't have 9 hours of meetings scheduled.

And now I have time. Lots of time. Too much time. Too much time to be lonely. To think about the people I miss. Too much time to think. Too much time to realize that unfortunately, moving home didn't make me happy. Nor has it helped me to feel better about my life or about myself. Instead, I feel even more lost. I miss my friends. I miss living abroad. I miss my old job. I miss the travel. I miss the bustle and the flow and crazy pace of life. I miss being an expert at what I did. I miss having a team of people to manage. I miss being part of a different culture. I miss being different. I miss being international. I miss being a foreigner. I miss exploring and discovering new cities. I miss the excitement of new adventures around every corner. I miss the difficulty. I miss taking the path less take over the well-traveled and comfortable road. I miss the challenge.

I'm having trouble defining myself in this new world that is my life. The ways that I defined myself before - as an International person, as a hard-working person, as a well-liked and respected person at work who encouraged a lively office social scene. Those are now gone. I'm no longer international. I'm no longer working very hard. I'm no longer very important at my job. I no longer have a very big network. Some days I feel invisible. As if there is nothing tying me to this world right now. As if I could just float away, disappear and no one would notice.

At least when I was living abroad, even when things were not going well or I was feeling down, I always felt that I was doing cool/interesting/glamorous things. Being an American living abroad made me feel special. I was doing something different. Taking the road less traveled. And sometimes that thought alone was enough to get me through the day. 

But back home here, I no longer feel special. I mostly just feel invisible and lost. I feel underwhelmed and under-challenged. I was so used to life being a constant adventure. One long rollar coaster of crazy events in crazy places. And of course, I'm not going to lie, I sometimes wanted to get off. I definitely was curious to see what it would be like to stand on steady ground. And I'm glad I got to find out. But I really miss the excitement of the ride. More than I ever thought I would.

And when I lived abroad, when things got hard, I always told myself, well you can always "move home." And although I knew that moving home would be hard too, it always stood out in my mind as some kind of solution. Some kind of problem solver. Some kind of destination. Some kind of change that I could make that when I reached the end of all else, going home would be what was left and that would be ok.

But now I am home. And suddenly I realize that "home" is no longer home. And I feel like a foreigner in my own country. And I wonder where is "home?" And what is my next move? Where do I belong?

I don't regret moving back. I know it's what I needed at the time. I needed to stand still if for nothing else than to appreciate the ride when I get back on it. But I can already feel it... That same familiar feeling that has haunted me all these years -  my feet are getting restless and my heart is yearning for travel and adventure. I wonder how long I will actually stay here in Boston. I wonder what my next adventure will be. I wonder if things will get better here. Or if I will be off again too soon to find out.

I knew it would be hard. But I didn't ever think it would be this hard...

*I've been trying to write this blog post for almost 2 months now, but have been struggling to get it to try to convey the emotions that I'm feeling - I'm still not there but I wanted to post this before I took off for my first trip abroad since moving back. Weather permitting, I'm off on Thursday to London/Stockholm. The trip is bringing to head a lot of emotions and questions and fear and excitement and confusion. Since I've moved home, I've been struggling with the question - where do I belong? And where is home, if "home" no longer feels like home? And what do I do next? 

Dating Update and a Challenge

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I'm not sure exactly what I was thinking... but I did think that it would be easier to meet men when I moved home. I'm not really sure where I got this idea from although I think that the following thought process did take place:

While living abroad, I found it hard to meet men because I was so transient. I was always jetting off somewhere for work. It made it hard to date someone cuz when I met them I would be like, I'm off to Asia, then the US and then Sweden and I'll be back in 3 weeks so how does that sound? Umm... yup. It sounded crazy. Men found it intriguing but not really conducive to dating. On top of that I worked long long hours and didn't have a lot of free time to devote to dating.

I also heard from numerous men that I gave off a strong sense that I was not ready to settle down. I was pretty open about the fact that I wasn't ever sure when work would move me next (i.e. don't get too comfortable with me boys, cuz I'm not here for good). I was also open with the fact that job aside, I wasn't really sure that Sweden (and definitely not London) was going to be the place I called home for the rest of my life. I was pretty sure I wanted to live in the US again at some point for some time. I heard from multiple men multiple times that these things were a bit of a turn off or at least a deterrent for a long-term serious relationship. Believe it or not, most men weren't really up to switching continents for me.

Another thing that had a big impact on me and my reasoning on it will be easy to find a guy if I move home, was that a good Swedish friend of mine who moved to London decided to move back to Sweden and she instantly met the love of her life. Her happiness, her awesome new relationship and her outlook on the whole thing caused me to take a look around at my friends and I realized that when they made positive changes to their lives, positive things happened to them. I thought that for me making the positive change to move back to Boston and cutting the cord on The Company controlling where I lived, that this would be it.  I would finally find my positive place and positive things would start to happen to me. I would finally be in a place where I could meet someone.

So, I guess I thought it would be easier. Instead, it's been harder than ever! I'm in a SERIOUS dry spell here people! Other than a ego-deflating and embarrassing dalliance with a co-worker that I can't really blog about (I have to say though that I think I'm still a bit stung from this one) and the random boy on New Year's Eve (who I was supposed to see again until he called me a million times and I got freaked out and told him to never contact me again - yup that's how awesome my life is), there have been NO men in my life since the hot but brief British country-side romance in September. Four months ago. Ugh.

Every day I feel a little bit more like an Old Maid - the only single girl left in the pile (even I'm Attractive Single Friend C is potentially off the market). It's kind of freaking me out. Especially since I have almost no single wingmen (or women as it may be) to go out and cause trouble with. Clearly, it was time to take drastic measures. So, I finally switched over my Match.com account to the US one.

I swear that I went in with a good level of optimism, but I have to say that I'm totally unimpressed.

First of all, I'm not getting nearly as much attention as I did while on the International Match site. I'm not exactly sure why.

Second of all, the men in Boston do not seem to be that hot or that interesting. And most of them are short. I mean really short. Like 5'8 short. Ugh.

Third of all, the men I wink at, don't wink back at me! (Which I guess is a similar statement to point number one).

Here are the sad statistics so far: 

Number of days on Match: 7

Profile Viewed: 854 times

Winks Received: 58

Winks Sent: 17

Reciprocal Winks: 3

Emails Received: 22

Emails Sent: 2*

Someone please tell me. What am I doing wrong? I'm trying to figure it out.

My London profile got a lot of attention - so much so that I couldn't keep up (I would sometimes get over 100 winks a day). Maybe it's because that site was better** (i.e. more technologically advanced and more user friendly) or maybe there were more men on it. I'm not sure... I guess it would make sense as London is obviously a much bigger city than Boston. But, essentially my profile and pictures are the same (with just a few updates -i.e. I'm no longer an American living in London).

Or maybe my strategy is off. I wink at men, but I'm kind of shy. I usually let them email me first. So, if I wink and nothing happens, I just let it go. I know it's silly but I still kind of want the men to make the first move. Although again, this was the strategy I had on the International Match and it worked out ok.

Or maybe it's because my profile is to harsh. Because I got so much attention on that International site -and mostly from the wrong type of guys (lots and lots of them with half-naked pictures), I felt like I had to try to put up some boundaries so after spending at least an equal amount of page space describing myself, I wrote the following - which did help a little bit - but maybe it's a bit too harsh for the US? What do you think? It's not really deterring the short or old men anyway...

I'm looking for a guy who is interesting and interested. Someone spontaneous and ambitious who is not afraid of adventure. Someone who is up for partying all night but doesn't mind staying in reading a book in bed. Someone who is open-minded, interested in traveling and could see themselves living abroad. Someone who is active and wouldn't mind going for a run on the beach or hitting the gym with me. Someone who challenges me and has something to teach me. Motivation and curiosity are definately sexy. 

I have a thing for tall men. If you are under 6 feet tall, it's not going to work. If you post pictures of yourself bare chested posing in front of the mirror, you are also probably not my type. And I prefer younger men (in general younger than me). So... men over 36 sorry... most likely, not going to happen.

And by the way, I can't cook so it's better if you do..

Anyway, I think it's time for some drastic measures. Life Begins at Thirty - a fellow blogger in London - had an interesting idea by issuing a dating challenge. She asked her readers to suggest ways for her to meet men and then she composed a list of dating challenges she would try out and then write about her experience. Her idea is a good one. I think I'm going to steal it. So, what do you think? What kind of dating challenges would you propose for me? How should I meet men?

*I responded to two men who wrote to me. The first never wrote me back a second time. The second, well we'll see. I just wrote him back an hour ago.

**A couple years back the International Match or the UK one at least and the US one split and they are actually really different from each other now. The International Match is much better.

Redisovering America: The Good the Bad and the Ugly

I've been home just over a week and I feel like I'm rediscovering America: the good, the bad, and the ugly - American the Beautiful and the Not So Beautiful.

When I posted this post about my first weekend home, I got a lot of comments saying that I need to give it a chance and not be so critical. I totally agree. And I promise I'm doing that. And I'm finding the transition - both the good and the bad - amusing and interesting, funny and frustrating, fascinating and infuriating.

So far there are many things about being back in the US that I LOVE! But balancing that out, I'm finding there are other things that I do not love so much... Right now it's a close tie. Let's see which one will emerge the winner.

It's been a bit of an emotional rollarcoaster - which I think is ok. No one ever said that moving back after 9 years abroad would be easy - I certainly wasn't expecting it to be.

There are times when I hear or see that have me scratching my head - especially regarding American's ignorance or stereotypes about other cultures or countries.


There are times when I'm ecstatic to be home and other times when I'm so "homesick" for Europe and wishing I could hop on the first plane back.

There are times when I recognize things about life here in the US that just make so much sense - they make me feel "at home" in the US. In Europe my friends often thought me strange (in a good way I hope) for certain things like loving pumpkin flavored coffee or beer for example (a Swedish person would find this just plain weird), or this inexplicable need I had to over-decorate my apartment for each changing season. But being back in America, I realize these things do not make me weird. They make me American. They are the things that other Americans like/do. And it's these things that make me love America and feel comfortable with my repatriation.

Of course there is the flip side of the coin. I have learned a lot of things from living in other countries. I especially loved living in Sweden and after resisting for a long time, I finally learned to embrace and really love the simple Swedish lifestyle (seriously - I even like salty liquorish candy now, I'm a true convert). And some of the things about Swedish life I'm very homesick for. And some of those things that I have learned seem better than the American way of doing things. Or maybe not even better, just interesting to compare. And I feel frustrated because I

It's a journey - and kind of a fun one. And I want to share this journey with you all.

That's why I'm introducing a new section of my blog -  a series of short (yes folks, I'm going to attempt brevity here) posts on my fabulous journey of rediscovering America: the beautiful and the not so beautiful, as it may be. Of course I will still be giving you long and drawn out rants or musings on life and whatever task is at hand. But look for my Oh America! posts coming soon.

But before I begin this series of blog posts (where inevitably some will not shed favorable light on Americans) I would like to offer a small disclaimer (and by this I mean try not to judge me to harshly while I'm judging others). 

I may write about silly and stupid things that Americans say about other cultures - BECAUSE IT'S FUN AND IT'S FUNNY. However, my disclaimer is that I do realize that I have been privileged (and driven by an excessive urge to live abroad and seek out all things foreign and international and possessed with the demonic ability to give up everything else to pursue it) to live abroad and have the experiences I have had. I'm not judging other for taking a different path - that's fine - there are many paths in life to choose and it would be really boring if we were all on the same one. And I'm not necessarily judging others for their ignorance either. Ok. I admit it. I am just a tiny little bit but only if it's really bad. I mean judgey wudgey was a bear and all... But only a little. Mostly I'm just amused. I promise.

But back to the disclaimer. Actually, while living abroad, I have spent a LOT of time defending Americans and their ignorance about other countries or cultures - besides I found that there are an awful lot of foreigners who have crazy misconceptions and mislead stereotypes of Americans (i.e. we are all fat and carry guns and love George Bush).

So, in anticipation of the upcoming Oh America! posts, I would like to share with you what I have shared with many Asians and Europeans as to why Americans may be slightly ignorant when it comes to foreign countries and cultures and knowledge of geography and why (as so many international people point out) so few Americans actually own a passport. Here goes:

1. The United States is geographically isolated. Essentially we are a huge island in the middle of the ocean - bordered by Mexico and Canada (and most Americans have been or will go to those two countries sometime in their lifetime). The fact of the matter is, it takes a long time and is expensive to travel to either Europe or Asia. It's not a simple trip. You don't just hope on the train or hop in the car! So geographic isolation is a huge international travel deterrent.
2. The United States is HUGE - states are like European countries. Most Americans have been all over the US. And to those Europeans who look down on Americans for not having been to another country. Ummm... hello? I have never met an American who has never been to another state - usually they have been to multiple states and most have been to both coasts (6 hours by plane apart - I bet there are lots of Europeans who have never been 6 hours away from their home country). So, Mr. cool I've been to so many countries European, please remember that geographically, Americans traveling to different states is like Europeans traveling to different countries within Europe. And Americans going abroad is like Europeans going to Asian. Obviously fewer Europeans have been to Asia than those who have been to the countries surrounding theirs. So, if we stop comparing countries visited and start comparing distances traveled, I think Americans would probably kick Europe's collective ass!
3. The US is interesting and diverse enough to keep you entertained. Americans don't really need to go abroad - there is lots of cultural diversity right here at home. And driving across the country is a hugely popular thing to do.
4. The average American gets TWO WEEKS of vacation. The average European gets FIVE or SIX WEEKS! Of course they travel more. Especially if you take into account point number one with the US being geographically isolated. It takes a full day of travel both back and forth to go overseas (at least) so there is 2 days of your 10 day vacation gone right there. If I had just 2 weeks vacation, I wouldn't travel abroad either!
5. Geography is seemingly not highly valued and often not taught in schools - I never once was offered or attended a geography class in school. In college a gained a wider perspective on the world - but I was an International Affairs major so that was kind of required. I do not know why geography is not taught in school and I think this is something that should be changed. But you can't blame people for not learning something that was not taught. I do wish our schools would put more emphasis on the international rather than focusing so much on the US. My favorite teacher in high school went out of her way to educate us about the world and the art, literature and cultures of other countries. This had a profound impact on me and helped fuel my fire for wanting to live abroad.
6. Americans tend to have a strong work ethic. We graduate from college very young (much younger than Europeans who generally graduate at age 26) and are encouraged to join the work force as quickly as possible. I mean it's not like the government is chipping in for our education (no socialism here) and we have all those student loans to pay back so what else is there to do? Gap years for travel are not encouraged in the US the way they are in Europe - again, influenced by the loans but also the American 'work, work, work' and 'make money and get ahead' mentality.

Ok - now you have my disclaimer. What do you think? Do you agree with me? What are your thoughts on why Americans are sometimes ignorant of other cultures or have not traveled abroad?

Anyway, stay tuned for my rediscovering America posts coming at you soon!*

Ciao for now!

International Woman of Mystery: The Next Chapter

I am an International Woman of Mystery. The story of how I got here is told in 3 parts here in this blog:

• Part I: The Early Years
• Part II: Asia
• Part III: Europe

If you have read my posts, you will see that there was nothing in my nature that encouraged my International pursuit. I was a small town girl who was never meant to leave the small town. I was the girl who cried the first day my mother tried to leave me at school The girl desperately homesick when I first moved to college. The girl who wanted to study abroad in high school but couldn't bare the thought of leaving my Mother. The girl who wanted to travel but never even went on a plane until I was 18. The girl who didn't even have a passport until I turned 20.

But there was some other driving force that propelled me toward the life of an International Woman of Mystery. And it's that's force that's been pushing me forward ever since.

I took the road less traveled. I said yes to opportunities when I wanted to say no. I chose to push my boundaries to the limits and I refused to accept my routine-loving homebody nature.

I chose adventure over stability. I threw caution to the wind and dived head in to each new challenge. I worked hard and played harder.

I struggled to adapt to different cultures. I struggled to fit in and make friends. I started my life over from scratch many times - each time reinventing myself into a slightly different and hopefully improved version.

And somewhere along the way, I traded in the small town girl identify for the international one. I adapted to it and I embraced it and being international started to define me. I fear that I am no longer very American and I definitely fear there is no way that I will fit back in as a small town girl.

But this is a fear that very soon I'm going to have to stand up and face.

Because... 

Drum roll please....

AFTER ALMOST YEARS ABROAD, THIS INTERNATIONAL

WOMAN OF MYSTERY IS MOVING BACK HOME!

Yes, that's right. I'm Boston bound in just 2 short weeks. The Company has decided to move me back (you didn't think I was leaving them too did you)?

And I'm panicking!

It's not so much leaving London that is making me sad. It's not that London isn't a great city - it is. It just wasn't for me right now and although I'm sure there are things about London I will miss, I'm not going to be sad to leave it.

And even leaving my current job isn't as sad as I thought it would be. While, I'm staying with The Company I'm switching industries and products and I'm going to do something completely different. And although I am sad to leave my current product after 6+ years, I'm also ready for a change and feel like the timing is right.

But the thing I'm really sad about is that I feel that I'm closing the door on Sweden. I could have just as easily (and probably more readily) moved back to Sweden. I feel like I left my heart in Stockholm. And I don't feel like I'm ready to move on. I would have been happy to move back, but the The Company offered me a great job in Boston that was way too good to pass up. 

Oh the irony of it all. When I moved to Stockholm, I was wishing I could live in Boston and now I'm moving to Boston and wishing I could live in Stockholm.

The prospect of this move is bringing so much anxiety and so many emotions to the surface. I'm nervous and scared and excited and reluctant all at once. But mostly I just have a lot of questions.

By moving back, am I accepting my small town fate? Does this mean that I will become my parents?

What if I move back and then never ever leave the US again? What if my international jet-set days are over?

And despite the fact that I haven't been that happy this past year, I totally recognize that I have a very charmed and often glamorous life. And I do love it (as well as hating it). And I'm afraid that moving back means that I'm trading in my glamorous life for a boring stable one. Will I still be the same fun person? Will my life continue to be an adventure?

What if I hate it when I get there? What if I realize that I'm no longer very American? What if I can't fit back in?

What about American men? Can I date guys who wear baggy jeans and baseball caps and listen to Dave
Mathews?

When I move back, am I still an International Woman of Mystery? Will I loose my identity? Do I need to change the name of my blog? Will I have anything interesting to blog about? Will you still return and follow me and read my posts?

The Making of An International Woman of Mystery Part III: Europe

This post is about The Making of an International Woman of Mystery.

Making an International Woman of Mystery is not an easy job. And it's a long process. Therefore, this is a long story. To read Part I: The Early years, click here. To read Part II: Asia, click here.

So, The Company moved me back to Boston and I was happy. And I had some days off between the two jobs so I did what any normal person moving to a new place does: get a car, get an apartment, start to get settled.

And then I started my new job. And on my very first day, my new manager called me into his office. And I took one look at his face and I said "Oh no. You are going to ask me to move again, aren't you?" You see... I was starting to get to know The Company quite well by now, and I knew that "look." I had also been given a small hint that the job in Boston might not be a long term reality. In China, just as all my bags were packed and I was set to get on the plane to Boston, the President of our entire division emailed me and said "International Woman of Mystery, what do you think about Sweden?" And of course, I responded "Sweden sounds like a nice country but I prefer Boston. Thank you very much."

But that email tipped me off and as a result, I knew it would only be a matter of time before I was asked to move again. I just thought I might have a little more time...

So my manager said "We want you to move to Stockholm." And I said "No." And of course, as is The Company's procedure, he refused to take no for an answer and hinted that if I didn't accept the job in Stockholm, I would soon be jobless. So he says "Just fly to Stockholm and meet with the The President and see what you think." Well, who can refuse a free trip to Stockholm? Besides, I had many Swedish friends who I had been wanting to visit anyway.
 
Now, I must reveal that my The Company is in fact a Swedish company. So, I had spent the last 4 years working with Swedes and therefore had quite a few Swedish acquaintances and one really good friend JT who I worked with in both Boston and China. And while in China, JT's friends and family had come to visit and I got to know them a bit. And her friend F and I really hit it off. And I was a little bit involved with a Swedish man (a story I will NOT get into). And I had been thinking about going on a trip to Stockholm - perhaps at New Year's. But neither them nor I ever imagined that it was even a possibility that I might MOVE to Stockholm!
 
But somehow just two weeks later (less than a month after leaving China), I found myself on a plane to Stockholm for "a visit." JT had left China at the same time I had and was going to do a bit of a world tour before returning to Sweden, and she was not even back in the country when I visited, but luckily the Swedish man was there to welcome me.
 
And somehow The Company managed to convince me to move to Stockholm - mostly by going all out to show me a fabulous time during my visit and offering me a spot on the management team and a job totally awesome that I couldn't refuse.
 
And so just a little over a month after returning to Boston, I packed up again and left my apartment and car (and all my furniture - as my parents refused to pick it up less than two months after dropping it off) behind in Boston and I took of for Stockholm. And this trip that was initially meant to be 5 months, somehow turned into 5 years! But I'm getting ahead of myself.
 
While JT and friends were very surprised (pleasantly so) to find I was moving to Stockholm, they rolled out the red carpet and welcomed me with open arms and tried to make me feel at home. In fact, I realized later that I was very lucky indeed to have the foundations of a great friend group in place when I arrived. Being a foreigner in Stockholm can be very hard. Swedes are notoriously cold and not very open to meeting new people.* Most foreigners move to Stockholm for love and find it difficult to make friends. Over the years many foreign female "love refugees" struggling to find a friend group, have expressed to me their envy of my large and awesome group of friends.
 
But still, in the beginning it was hard. for me too - although hard to say just how hard because my perspective has shifted. I now look back through rose tinted lenses - colored by my amazing experiences and the positive people I have met over the years. It's difficult for me to see Stockholm as it was when I first arrived.
 
But, I do remember that my overwhelming memory of Stockholm when I first arrived is that it was DARK and cold. The winters in Stockholm are not actually as extreme as Boston (they don't get as cold) but they are very very long (while Boston is more short and intense). I had literally gone from laying out in the sun at my parent's pool right to the airport to get on the plane to Stockholm And when I arrived in Stockholm, I was shocked to find that already in early September it was winter. I had packed a suitcase full of summer/autumn clothes expecting Stockholm to have the same warm autumn as Boston. I realized right away that was a big mistake! The first thing I did was go to the store and buy a scarf and a winter jacket!

Living in Stockholm was not easy. It was not like China where the cultural differences are so huge that it made it ok to just do your thing and not really attempt to adapt to the culture. In China, I expected not to fit in. I felt comfortable with my "foreignness." But in Sweden there were so many subtle differences that took me years to learn.

There were just so many small things to master like eating the European way with fork and knife remaining in each hand (not the switching hands shovel-food-in-your-mouth American way), or learning to be humble and to lower my loud American voice, or respecting the very strict rules regarding doing your laundry in the communal apartment laundry machines (seriously, the laundry room is a big source of contention often resulting in huge shouting matches between neighbors), or understanding that if you do not get to the liquor store between 10 and 15:00 on Saturday, that you will not have any alcohol for the weekend (so you had better make it a point to schedule this in), or making sure to always take off my shoes when entering someones home, or bringing my own alcohol with me to a party, or bringing my own bedsheets and towels with me when I'm going to spend the night at a friend's house, or realizing that it's a compliment when your friend buys the exact same dress as you and that if you and 3 of your friends end up wearing the same black H&M dress on the same night, well that's perfectly fine!

But I guess I did ok with mastering some of the subtleties. My friend's mom recently commented that when I first arrived in Sweden I seemed "so American" but now I seem "so Swedish."
 
While in Stockholm, I truly became an International Woman of Mystery. Sweden was country number 4 for me (5 if you count the US). And in addition to living internationally, my job required a lot of international travel (which I swear sounds a lot more fun than it really is). I traveled for work to such places as: Budapest, Moscow, St. Petersburg, Malta, Miami, Madrid, Barcelona, Milan, Rome, London, Cambridge, Shanghai, Beijing, Bangkok, Paris...

I even had a very crazy 2 years when I first moved to Stockholm where I actually SPLIT MY TIME between Shanghai and Stockholm and had apartments in both places. This was due to my working situation at that time which caused me to need to be constantly back-and-forth, and truthfully I didn't mind because I had the Scottish boy in China and my friends in Sweden and a great job that just happened to be in both places. But eventually I got tired of spending my weekends on airplanes and all the traveling back and forth eventually wore me out. But then my job changed so I started to spend the majority of my time in Sweden (with lots of travel to other places for work of course).

And the longer I stayed in the cold dark cozy city of Stockholm, the more I really started to love it! My girl group expanded from 3 friends to around 10 close friends plus at least 10 other friends who I would regularly go out with. The girls and I partied in Gotland every summer for Stockholm's veckan. We got together on most weekends and often during the week. We went to Latvia together for my 30th birthday. They became great friends to me that I know I will have for life. I got over the fact that eating out at restaurants was not that much fun (and way too expensive) and started to love having people over for dinner or a pre-party or going to another friend's house. I even got into the Eurovision song contest and from time to time would find myself dancing to schlager music without totally hating it. I started to prefer Euro Dance music to hip hop and even learned to dance properly to it. I had a great very central apartment in the city where I hosted lots of epic parties (much to the dismay of my neighbors). I learned to embrace the darkness and light lots of candles to make your home cozy and warm during the winter. I partied at the nightclubs Cafe Opera and Berns. I participated in the fun Friday "after work" culture (in the US I think we call it Happy Hour). I totally loved traditional Swedish foods like herring, salmon, toast skagen, Calle's caviar, pepparkaka. I always felt welcomed home when arriving at Arlanda airport and breathing in the wonderful scent of kanelbulle. I celebrated the long summer days by staying out all night long. I learned to appreciate the cold Baltic sea after a long hot sauna (even in the winter). I never ceased being amused by the Swedish dinner drinking and singing culture, but I learned to sing along to the popular snaps songs. My favorite holiday is now Midsommer (I would trade Thanksgiving for it any old day).

But because I had moved to Stockholm at the whim of The Company and not at my own whim... And because when I moved to Stockholm, I really wanted to live in Boston. And because I had been living abroad for a long time and was a bit curious about what life in the US would be like... Moving back to the US absolutely remained an open question in my mind and therefore I never felt completely settled in Stockholm. I always felt that I was "about to leave". But it never seemed like the right time. I sometimes felt that I was waiting for some kind of clear sign that it was time to go home. But it never came. I would go home and visit (with the increasing sense over the years that I fit into American life less and less) but I was always very glad to return to Stockholm. After awhile, I even stopped being homesick for the US. Without even realizing it, Sweden had become my home.
 
And then I turned 30 and I started to panic a little bit about my life. 30 is kind of a benchmark isn't it? I mean you start looking back at your life and wondering if it measures up. If you are where you are supposed to be and doing what you are supposed to be doing. Was this international life in Stockholm the life for me? Would it be better if I moved back to the US? Would my career be better? Would I earn more money? Would I be happier? Would I have found the "man of my dreams?" Should I move back and find out? Or do I want to stay in Stockholm forever? And is that even a possibility?

And while up to that point, my international life had been super fabulous and I had no regrets, I realized that maybe there were other things I wanted to do too. And although I always saw myself as an International person, I suppose that I also saw myself as a person who might one day get married and have children. And I sort of began to realize that my exciting international lifestyle wasn't really conducive to a "family life" and if that was something I wanted, I might need to make some changes.

Eventually I managed to calm those thoughts and started to lean toward staying in Stockholm on a more permanent basis. I began to realize that I had a pretty great life right where I was: I was dating the Beautiful Swede, I had a great job, I had great friends...

And of course it was at just this time that The Company announced that we were moving to London.
 
There was no other choice - the announcement coincided with the worst job market in recent history. It was London or bust.
 
So, one year ago, I moved to London.**

And although it wasn't exactly what I wanted to do, I tried to take on London and see it as my next new challenge. I oft a fabulous apartment in the fantastic neighborhood of Chelsea. I drank pints at the pub after work on Fridays. I ran a lot in  Battersea Park. I embraced the London clubbing nightlife. I hosted a pub crawl. I went to trendy restaurants. I saw musicals. I loved shopping at Harrod's. I jogged along the Thames. I paid my council tax. I marveled at the amazing cars lining the Chelsea streets. I ate fish and chips. I became addicted to Byron Burgers. I went partied on drunken boat trips on the Thames. I tried to date British men. I started to use British words more than the American ones (it was just easier). I went out to the countryside. I watched a Cricket game. I had Sunday roast at the pub. I drank buck's fizz. I ate full English breakfasts. I got well acquainted with Heathrow...
 
But I confess that I have not been very happy this year. Not in my job and not in my personal life. And although I have done many great and interesting things this year, my overwhelming feeling is that I spent too much time working too hard and getting too little out of it, too much time feeling homesick for Sweden (and missing the Beautiful Swede) and feeling lonely without my large group of friends, and too much time feeling that I was in the wrong place at the wrong time (a feeling I had never experienced so intensely before). So, I decided it was time for a change.

This is the final installment of "The Making of An International Woman of Mystery." Thanks for reading my wordy story. Please stay tuned for "The Next Chapter" where I reveal to you what's happening next in my life. Big changes are once again on the horizon for this International Woman.

*I have to say that this was not my experience in the least. I found Swedes to be warm and open and welcoming. But my foreign acquaintances had a different story. But again, I had that initial friend group that really helped me settle in. I will say one thing about Swedes though, once you break down the initial barriers and get to know them, they will be your friends for life.

**My blog begins in February although I briefly look back to December and January so this this blog actually captures most of my year in London - although not the painful few first months

The Making of an International Woman of Mystery Part II: Asia

This post is about The Making of an International Woman of Mystery.

Making an International Woman of Mystery is not an easy job. And it's a long process. Therefore, this is a long story. To read Part I: The Early years, click here.

Despite my tough experience in Costa Rica, when it came time to find a job, I couldn't get the international thing out of my head. I wanted to work for an international company. Despite my small town upbringing and my unhealthy attachement to my parents and the fact that I had hardly traveled anywhere, I had always kind of imagined myself as an International Business Woman.

My first job was with PricewaterhouseCoopers in Boston as an Executive Assistant which was crazy boring (I just wasn't cut out for being a glorified secretary). While working for PWC, I did what I should have done the first time around and had a look at which companies others graduates in my major were working for. And that is how I found The Company - the one that I still work for today.

The Company seemed international to the extreme. But to be honest, I was just hoping to get to work in an  in an international environment, maybe get to use my Spanish skills, and perhaps get to go on a cool business trip. I had no idea what I was getting myself into!

First of all, I will state for the record that I initially hated The Company. They made me work very long hours and they did not pay me very much (I should have ran far far away then).* They also challenged me to the extreme. I was hired to work as a customer service representative for our Spanish markets and before I knew it I was managing massive projects, writing technical specs and designing online systems (none of which my awesome Spanish/International Affair major in anyway qualified me to do, but The Company likes you to learn on the job).

Meanwhile, this was right around the time of September 11th and The Company was hit hard by the recession. There was lots of tension and insecurity in the office especially when they laid off a lot of people in the other products. I decided it was time to leave and become a Spanish Teacher -something I'd been thinking about for awhile. I was dating a boy from my hometown and I thought that fate was calling. It was time to accept my destiny and move back home to my small town, marry the small town boy and become a Spanish teacher at the high school I went to. Just maybe the whisperers were right. I was meant to be a small town girl.

I went as far as applying for Grad School and taking the Mass State Teacher Exams (which I passed with amazingly high marks -proud moment). But on the day I walked into my office to quit my job, my boss - the one I hated and the one I was sure hated me. The one who tore apart my projects, criticized everything I did and told me to only enter his office if I was in possession of a flow chart or spreadsheet as these were the only things that mattered to him (for a language major, this was rather difficult).** That very same boss told me that I should not quit. That I should wait for a forthcoming big "announcement" and that I should come speak with him after that.

Well... the announcement came and it was shocking: The section of The Company that I worked for was moving to China. And we were all losing our jobs in Boston but welcome to work in Shanghai (for a considerable pay cut). So, I walked into my boss' office and never one to mince words, I told him bluntly "I'm not moving to China. I'm never moving to China. Do not ask me to move to China. I'm going to move back home to my parent's town, probably marry my boyfriend and become a Spanish Teacher." Take that.

And what did the guy do? Well, he laughed at me! He said that it was great that I had my whole life figured out, but he reminded me that I was only 23 and that just maybe there was an alternative life for me that would be better than the one I was thinking about. He said something along the lines of not letting the small town boy hold me back (the nerve this guy had)! That there was a big world out there that I could learn from. And no, he did not want me to move to China actually. In fact, he wanted me to move to Bali, Indonesia and help with a project there that actually involved teaching.

He sold it to me to me like - well, if you want to teach, you can teach in Bali. And if you still want to teach after that, well you can still continue with your plan. And then he said something that I will always remember: "You will be a great teacher if that's what you want to do. But, I have a feeling that you will be even more great at doing something else."***

WTF? I could have easily turned down China and never looked back. Asia in general was not on my map of places I wanted to go and China was not at all on my radar. Well, neither was Bali, but Bali is a different story! Bali is supposed to be paradise on earth. A beautiful place. A dream world. The only problem was.... Bali is also on the OTHER SIDE OF THE WORLD.****

My initial reaction was "no f'ing way." But my boss would not take my initial gut reaction "no" as an answer. He told me to go home and seriously consider the offer. He advised me to talk to my parents (although possibly not to my boyfriend).

And think about it I did. A LOT. And I talked about it with others A LOT. And I surprisingly ffound that their general consensus was that this was an amazing opportunity and I should really consider accepting (even my parents grudgingly admitted it might be a good idea). And although I was still reeling from the sudden proposal and not feeling at all ready to change my plans of marriage and becoming a school teacher, slowly but surely that little voice in the back of my head became louder and louder until I could just not ignore it anymore.

That little voice was telling me: "You are not meant to be in a small town (at least not right now). And that boy you think you are "in love" with - ha ha ha.... that will end in divorce in a few years if you even make it to the alter. Do not give up your dreams for him. He is not worth it. You always wanted to become an International Woman of Mystery. This is your chance! This is a clear sign. This is your destiny. It's all there just waiting for you. Just accept the offer. You only regret the things you didn't do. And BALI is paradise. Who can say no to Bali? You are 23 years old and this is the time of your life to do such things. Just do it!

That damn voice could not be ignored, so I decided to follow that voice to just about as far away in the world as you could get from the East Coast of the US. I jumped on a plane for the third time in my life and flew to the eastern southern hemisphere!

And I lived in Bali for 8 months. Of course, my small town boyfriend promptly broke up with me (the first of many boyfriends to ditch me because of my globetrotting). But I met a hot tall German boy who drove me around Indonesia on his motorbike. I worked some as a teacher. I partied a lot. I danced at nightclubs often. I ate great Indonesian food like Gado Gado and Mei Goreng. I ran on the beach every morning at sunrise. I lived on $500 dollars a month (well, not entirely true - my parents kind of paid my credit card bills - love you Mom and Dad), I met great people. I lived with wonderful women who I still keep in touch with. I was fascinated by the beautiful Balinese Hindu culture. I lived a simple life with no air conditioning (it's hot in Bali), no hot water (but not hot enough that you don't miss hot water), no mobile phone, no television. I traveled throughout Bali and to some other lovely islands nearby. I saw the most amazing sunsets of my life. I ate delicious seafood at Jimbaran on small candlelit tables as the sun set and the surf slowly edged its way up the shore and lapped at our feet. I learned to surf. I read lots of books. I got very tan. I did a lot of nothing. I took long naps during the day. I worked at night. I learned a lot from the Germany boy who taught me to live in the moment and not worry so much about the past and future. I learned a lot about the rest of the world through the other international people I met. I loved my simple Bali life...

But I realized that even paradise is not sustainable forever. And while I didn't love the long hours The Company put me through in Boston, the kind of teaching I was doing in Bali wasn't stimulating me enough intellectually (damn my boss for being right). I decided it was time for a change, so I said goodbye to beautiful Bali and headed back to the US.

Luckily, it seems that I left just in time. Sady, just two weeks after I returned to the US, terrorists blew up the nightclubs in Bali. The very same nightclubs that I partied and danced at most nights. It was surreal. This scared me and my family. And once again, I decided that maybe it was best to stick closer to home.

And stick closer to home I did - much to the dismay of my parents. I had now given up on my dreams of becoming a teacher and I was wallowing around my parent's house in the woods unemployed, directionless and only half-heartily trying to figure out what to do next with my life. To be honest, I kind of missed The Company. And after a couple months, my Mother issued me an ultimatum: Get a job or we are kicking you out. She was unimpressed with my unemployed lazy self and she knew me well enough to know that I was just milking unemployment and not even searching for a new job.

Ironically, on that very same day, The Boss called me out of the blue. When I left Bali, he tried to recruit me to move to Shanghai, China - an offer I kindly declined as truth be told, I was homesick and wanted to go home to my parents. But after living with my parents for a couple months, the China offer was starting to look pretty darn attractive. So, what the hell? In a moment of insanity I accepted. To this day, I swear the driving force in me accepting that offer was so that I could call my Mother at work and have the satisfaction of this conversation:

Me: So Mom, I got a job today!

Mom: (Sounding happy). Oh really! Good for you? How did that happen? Tell me about it.

Me: Well, I'm moving to China with The Company in 2 weeks.

Silence

Mom: You are joking right?

Me: I'm dead serious. You told me to get a job and get out of the house. I would say that China is getting out of the house.

Mom: Oh honey... that's not what I meant (sounding sad).

So, two weeks later, off to China I went. And it is with this move that the International Woman of Mystery matured beyond a concept and became a reality. It is with this move that the International Woman of Mystery was born.

I have to admit that despite Bali being amazing in many ways, I was still desperately homesick the entire time. I missed my parents and my ex-boyfriend and my friends. But in Shanghai, The Company kept me way too busy to even think about being homesick. I worked ALL THE TIME. And I loved it! I felt that I had so much to contribute. I was satisfied in my job. I loved going to work every day (I practically lived at the office).

But it was not all work. Oh no! There was a lot of play as well (ah to be young again and not need to sleep). Despite arriving in the middle of the SARS crises***** (oh how my parents hated this one and begged me to return home immediately), I truly believe there was no better place for a 24 year old to live but in Shanghai, China. What a vibrant ever-changing city. There is no place like it on earth. And unfortunately, while to this day Shanghai is still an amazing and vibrant city (and I totally recommend that you all get yourselves on a plane to go there ASAP), it is now nothing like it was in 2003 when I first lived there. Back then, there were no big nightclubs. It was the bars on mao ming lu or bust. And there were very few western restaurants and almost no western style services (like the nice spas you see today). It was all brilliantly uncivilized and very very raw. There were no rules and therefore there were no consequences. It truly felt like we could do anything we wanted (and we sure pushed it to the limits).  Every day was an adventure and the crazy city of Shanghai was our playground.

I had a blast in China. I met great people like M and T. I dated the Scottish boy. I learned how to speak enough Chinese to communicate with taxi drivers, order food in restaurants and make myself understood when necessary. I learned how to use chopsticks (remember I was a small town girl and I had never ever used chopsticks until the day I arrived). I drank bi jiao (a terrible Chinese rice wine - try it sometime and you will see what I mean). I developed a love of sushi (yes, I know this is Japanese but for some reason I never ate it until I arrived in China and then I swear I ate it every day). I worked hard and developed a good reputation in the office. I survived SARS. We tore up Mao Ming Lu. I partied all night and went to work still drunk.  I marveled at Chinese culture and their sometimes crazy logic. I learned to pee in squat toilets (something I struggled with in Bali). I ran several 5K races and did the Shanghai half marathon. I had a crazy time in China. I kind of grew up in China. In China, I definitely became a more mature, confident and independent international woman of mystery.

Shanghai is a city that is awesome and terrible all at once. It's a city that you both love and hate. It's a city that's so vibrant and alive full of sounds and smells and lots and lots of people! It's like sensory overload all the time. And it's lovely in it's own crazy way, yet lonely in its vastness, and irritating in its overcrowded, polluted, hyperactivity and lack of logic.

But China is not always an easy place to live (especially then). And as with any love hate relationship, at  some point, the hate won out over the love (this was mainly motivated by an injury sustained on a business trip to India - another story in itself - that I was not able to get proper treatment for in China) and I decided I was ready to move back to the US.

Luckily The Company was nice enough to offer me a job back in Boston which I readily accepted and was truly excited and ready to move back home...

Stay Tuned for final installment of The Making of an International Woman of Mystery Part III: Europe

*Just kidding. I obviously love my job and my company - I've worked for The Company for almost 10 years - but the hours and the pay thing never really have been resolved nor will they ever be although I'm kinda over it

**This boss became a great mentor to me and I now make my staff present me with data rather than feelings. He also said "Don't ask me questions, rather tell me the solution and if I don't agree I will let you know" - very good advice for managing junior staff.

***Note: I have nothing against teachers and still do not rule out becoming one myself one day. But I'm so glad that he gave me this piece of advice because he was so right.

****I'm not going to lie. I had no idea where Bali was. It could have been in the Caribbean for all I knew. So, I did whatever you did in 2001 instead of Google something (as oddly Google didn't exist -seems like one of those things that's always been around doesn't it)? But my research which I'm pretty sure even involved going to a bookstore and looking at travel books, told me that Bali was a pretty amazing place by all accounts.

*****The week I arrived, SARS hit the news. It was crazy. Everyone was wearing masks. Your temperature was taken about 10 times a day whether entering your work building, a restaurant or a nightclub. If someone sneezed or coughed, everyone would panic. The Chinese government went crazy with signs telling people to wash their hands and stop spitting. I was highly amused and not threatened by the whole thing and didn't feel threatened by SARS at all.. My family on the other hand was not so amused - especially after the close call in Bali. They didn't quite believe me when I told them I was totally safe as I had been telling that the whole time in Bali as well.

The Making of an International Woman of Mystery Part I: The Early Years

I'm going to now tell you a story. It's the story of how I became an International Woman of Mystery. I was not as you might think, born an International Woman of Mystery. Oh no... far from it. The making of myself into an International Woman of Mystery has taken a long time.

But the reason I'm going to tell you this story is because I need to tell you another story. The story that I've been alluding to for the past couple months - the big story about the big changes that are happening this fall. But to really understand or appreciate the next chapter, you need to understand this chapter first.

This is a long story... So, sit back, relax, grab a glass of wine. And to make it easier for you, I'm dividing this story into sections. So, please come back and hear the end. Because once I've told this story, I'm going to tell you the next story and here I'm going to need your support.

You see I was born a small town girl . And when I say small town I mean population of aprox 4,000 people. Cows walk across the road and on some days you are more likely to see a tractor driving down the street than a car. My parents live in a house on a hill deep in the woods. You can not see the neighbors from this house. You cannot see the road from this house. This house is essentially in the middle of nowhere. My graduating class in high school was 110 students from FIVE small towns. Yes, we are talking about some serious hickville here. My town is not known for its diversity. It is 98.29 percent white - thank you Wikipedia.

I was the typical American girl. The blond, blue-eyed girl next door type of girl. And as typical American girls often do, I had an awkward phase of glasses and braces (which I credit for forcing me to develop my personality rather than getting by with my looks). But as soon as the braces came off and contact lenses replaced the thick glasses I had worn since I was 5 (it was a very long awkward phase lasting from about 5 years old until 14 ), I found that I had somehow managed to become one of the "popular" girls at school - which is maybe not saying much as I've already mentioned my school was very small. But when I was younger, I certainly was not an International Woman of Mystery. I was more the Girl Next Door.

In the All-American girl next door type of way, I was fairly smart and got good grades. I was Captain of the Cheerleading squad. I played sports. I had lots of friends. Boys seemed to like me - and I was asked to the prom by 5 different boys my senior year including the boy who became Prom King (I didn't go with him).* People told me I was pretty and cute.  I was a good girl. I loved my parents. I pretended to hate my younger brother but secretly didn't. I liked to go to parties, but never got drunk. I liked to go out with boys but I never let them kiss me. I kept busy with lots of school activities. I liked to be the leader. I was always on the go. But over all... I was pretty average.

I was the kind of girl who should have gotten married to the "boy next door" who was the captain of the football team (although our school didn't have a football team, but you know what I mean). I was the kind of girl who should have married my high school or at the very least my college sweetheart and built a home down the street from my parents and started pushing out babies in my early twenties. I was the kind of girl who was born in a small town and should have stayed in a small town and had a small town life and produced kids who stayed in the small town and had a small town life. In high school I heard the whispers "She'll never get out of this town." Or "High school will be the highlight of her life. It's all downhill from there."

But there was one problem. I didn't buy into the whispers and rumors. I had other plans. I didn't want to be a small town girl with a small town life. I was going somewhere. And thus the concept of the International Woman of Mystery took root somewhere deep in the dark recces of my mind.

But other than my small town background, there was another obstacle in my way of becoming an International Woman of Mystery. Growing up, I had a worrisomely unhealthy attachment to my Mother. From the day I was born (as she tells it), I literally did not like her to leave my sight. The first time she dropped me off at nursery school, I cried so much that the teacher had to send me home - I vividly remember this - her coming back to pick me up in that tan van she used to drive (a soccer mom before there were soccer moms - this was circa 1981) - needless to say she was not happy to see me. And the next day I smartened up and stayed at school knowing that my Mother would most likely be more happy to see me after school when I was supposed to come home rather than having to pick me up at school early due to my separation anxiety.**

The first time I slept over night at a friend's house, I cried and had to go home in the middle of night. Even spending nights at my grandparents (who I loved dearly) was difficult because I missed my Mother so much. As I got older, I never really got over it. I rarely slept at friend's houses. I didn't take trips with friends or with school. I liked being home with my parents in my safe small house in the woods. Even to this day I think about my Mom a lot. I talk to her in my head. And when I'm sick or hurt or sad, my first thought is of my Mother. Luckily, these days I can easily find her on BlackBerry Messenger when I need her.

The first significant separation I had from my parents was when I went away to college (a whole 3 hours drive from home). Seriously, before that I do not think I had ever been away from them for more than 3 nights unless I was at my grandparent's house (and I never spent more than a few nights there either). I was totally homesick the entire first semester at college despite talking to my Mom on a daily basis. I even went as far to obtain a transfer application to switch Universities to be closer to home. Luckily, I never went so far as to make the transfer. I finally did manage to settle into college life - and loved it!

What can I say? I was a Mama's girl. A homebody. A person who doesn't like change or routine. A "sensitive kid" as my Mother would say. I'm pretty sure that since that first day she had to pick my little crying self up at Nursery School, she was very worried that she would never get rid of clingy, needy daughter. She was not ever in favor of me staying in that small town. She had bigger dreams for my brother and I and also her dreams for herself and my father obviously did not include my brother and I living down the street from her and dropping off the grand kids for babysitting. Oh no. She made it very clear that she was not that kind of Mother and we were not that kind of family. On the other hand, she never exactly advocated for me to go to the other side of the world to get away from her either (but I'm getting ahead of myself here).

At the same time as being an All American Small Town Mama's Girl, I manage to somehow develop a strong curiosity about other cultures. I was 4 years old the first day I heard someone speaking Spanish. I remember exactly where I was standing at the long closed Cederhearst puddle that pretended to be a lake where the small town moms would bring their small town kids to cool down in the hot summer and socialize with other moms. I remember hearing this young puerto rican girl speaking Spanish. I was in awe! I found it fascinating that other people talked and possibly thought in a different way. I immediately asked her to be my friend and forced her to spend time telling me all the Spanish names for everything around us (poor girl). I was hooked! I knew from that day on that I would one day learn Spanish!

The other main influence in the making of the International Woman of Mystery was my grandparents on my father's side. They had traveled all over the world and hosted various foreign exchange students. Their beautiful home on the North Shore was full of wonderful treasures from all over the world. I loved visiting my grandparents and touching and unfortunately sometimes breaking (much to their dismay) all of the treasures collected from their travels. I loved the small box full of money from other countries and couldn't believe that there were places in the world where the dollar was not used. I begged them to tell me me stories of their travels. I wanted to travel like they did. I wanted to see the world.

But there was one major problem with wanting to travel the world: I was a kid who had parents who were NOT interested at all in traveling.  Actually, more specifically, the problem was my Mother who more or less called the shots in our family (sorry Dad). My father probably would have liked to travel more. He had lived in Scotland during college and traveled through Europe. My Mother on the other hand, was a self proclaimed homebody. She didn't like to leave the family pets or venture far from home. Our vacations usually consisted of going to the beach on the North Shore of Massachusetts or visiting our grandparents.

So, because I was so attached to my Mother and because my Mother would never leave the US (her first time abroad was two years ago when she finally came to visit me in Stockholm), I was pretty much stuck in my small town (seriously, I really didn't even travel outside of New England) until I was old enough to make decisions on my own.

The first time I went on an airplane, I was 18. I went to Disney World with my high school Senior Class on a field trip. The first time I left the country, I was 20 and I was fulfilling my long term dream of studying abroad. It was with this journey that the International Woman of Mystery was launched.

In college I majored in Spanish and International Affairs (note the title of this blog). I mean what else would an International Woman of Mystery major in?

As part of my graduation requirement, I had to live abroad for at least a semester. And for some reason, I had my heart set on Latin America. Costa Rica became my final destination. I had been preparing myself for this day for ages! Ever since I met the little girl at the lake, I had always wanted to live abroad and speak Spanish. I wished I could have studied abroad in high school, but I knew that there was no way that I was mature enough to handle it (I could not have managed the separation from my Mom). But at the ripe old age of 20 years old, I felt that I was absolutely ready for my first international adventure.

Oh man! Nothing could have prepared me for my experience in Costa Rica. It's a story within itself so I won't go into details. But I will just say that it was way tougher than I thought to be a blond haired blue eyed all American girl living in the middle of San Jose, Costa Rica trying to "immerse" myself in the culture and the University life there. However, despite the difficulties I encountered, I do not regret the experience in any way. In fact, it made me tougher and opened my eyes to the world.

But, is it was a hard experience that left me a bit scarred. I started to have second thoughts about becoming an International Woman of Mystery. Maybe I wasn't up for it. Maybe I wasn't as tough as I thought. Maybe I wasn't really International Woman of Mystery material! I put the thought aside for the most part and focused on partying my sway through my Senior year of college and graduating magna cum laude.

Stay tuned for The Making of an International Woman of Mystery Part II: Asia

*I was not Prom Queen (the waiters and waitresses chose the Prom King and Queen and Court based on appearance so it was not a popularity contest) but I was on the Prom Court.

** I'm glossing over the gory details here. But let's just say that this little "disorder" causes major problems throughout my childhood and definitely affected my relationship with my parents (yes, it's probably the main reason that I felt the need to run away to the other side of the world as if to prove a point that I could do it).

My First Blog Award!

I'm so excited! I have gotten my first blogger award from Jazz Stanton at the Date Experiment

In order to accept the award I have to:
•Thank the blogger who awarded it to you.
•Sum up your blogging philosophy, motivation, and experience using five (5) words.
•Pass it on to 10 other blogs which you feel have real substance.

So, thank you Jazz Stanton! I'm still new to this blogging thing and maybe it's hard to believe, but I was a blog award virgin so thanks for popping my cherry. I'm super excited. Thanks for reading! And I encourage everyone to check out her awesome blog Date Experiment. I promise, it's a good time!

As for my blogging philosophy, motivation and experience using 5 words. Oh man - this one is a bit harder...

Let me think... I started this blog earlier this year for a few reasons:

1. I was trying to get over a slightly broken heart (Thank you Beautiful Swede)
2. I was getting back in the dating game and making my way in the big bad world of Internet dating and some things are just so hilarious they have to be shared
3. I needed a creative outlet - a way to express myself as I was about to explode from work work and more work - I needed to do something for me
4. I thought I had some fun stories to tell and wanted to share them out loud with real people (rather than just telling them to the imaginary people inside in my head - I mean that is not that much fun. I was getting kind of bored of them, they never made comments or had their own opinions)
5. I had been thinking about starting a blog for awhile - so what the hell! 

Initially, my blog was going to be about dating and hopefully eventually finding Mr. Right. But I soon realized that I just didn't date enough to write an interesting and "substantial" blog on just dating. So, while I write about dating and men quite frequently being the single International Woman of Mystery that I am.... my blog has morphed into other areas.* This has ranged from writing about my travels, to observations on returning to the Motherland, to doling out unsolicited advice on the pros and cos of Internet dating, to unfortunate bouts of drunk blogging, to pondering why everyone except for me seems to be getting married,  and of course, dating and meeting hot men.

Ok - that was a lot of rambling when I only was asked for five words. As you might realize by now... I have a chronic case of verbal diarrhea so cutting down to 5 words is really hard for me!

But let me give it a try. My blogging philosophy, motivation and experience in 5 words:

International Search for love and laughs

Damn that's 6 words! Shoot. Does the word 'and' count?

Let me try again:
Expression
Dating
Fun
Travel
International

Actually. Forget that. I like this better:

Random fun international life adventures

Phew... Now that that's over... Moving on to the final point: 10 blogs that I feel have real substance.

Well here goes:

A Mom's Life
One Blond Girl
Sara In Le Petit Village
Date Me DC
Learning From Self History
Jumped the Pond
The Domestic Minx
The Sassy Curmudgeon
Girls are Strange
The Simple Sweet Life

I highly recommend reading each and every one of those blogs! Seriously. Check them out.

As for me... I'm off to Cambridge tomorrow (for a work offsite) and am organizing a pub crawl for the weekend. This International Woman of Mystery will have more adventures coming at you soon!

XOXO

*You can check out my new "About" page here to see how I am currently justifying defining my blog.

UPDATE: I have been twice blessed with this awesome blog award! The second nomination comes from Jewels at Turning 30 who writes a really fabulous blog. Seriously, stop by and check her out. She just turned 30, so be sure to wish her Happy Birthday! Thank you Jewels for reading and nominating my blog!

Internet Dating Update

Whoa. I left my Match account alone this weekend and now have 64 unread emails since Friday night. What’s going on?

Including two emails from Dr. Manish. Who was begging me to contact him by providing me with mobile phone numbers and two email addresses. How can you even take someone seriously when they sign their emails “manish.” Gentlemen, a little advice, when you seem to desperate, it’s a turn off. One phone number or email address will suffice.

And why do men put lots of X’s in the emails. Like: hope to hear from you x

Or even worse: I thought you were sooo cute xxxxxxx. Ewww.

By the way, i also hate when men use LOL. Actually, I hate when anyone uses that. It’s silly.

And poor Asian 5 foot 6 Phong with the very large ears... I’m sorry. You wrote me a nice email. Thank you for the compliment on my “pretty pictures.” But - no... it’ not going to happen.

But this guy, he had it right:

..yep I know I am too old and ugly for you!

But reading your profile made me smile

Hopefully one day you will meet Mr Right, and you will ditch the international woman of mystery thing :)

Thank you. I hope I find Mr. Right too, but I’m glad that you realize that it’s not going to be you.

And this one was really sweet and he was kind of cute, in a big cuddly teddy bear sort of way, and seemed like a nice guy.... But he is a country boy who doesn’t even live in London and although he proclaims to want to travel, he doesn’t seem very wordly to me. Meeting him would just be wasting his time and mine. But I did feel sad when I pressed delete on this one:

Oh my goodness me, how lovely are you! What great pics and a profile to match. You certainly don't sound like a 'nerd' as you suggest. Your life sounds action-packed. Having read your profile I think I better get back to the drawing board and re-write mine!

Now that I'm back in town for a few weeks, I should probably go out on a date with one of these boys soon. I’m thinking about taking the tall dark and handsome cop up on his offer to take me out. What do you think? Should I go for it?

The problem is, I’m all talk and no game. I’m kind of shy (although you would never really know it if you met me) and I get dreadfully nervous before dates. What if they don’t like me? What if they don’t think I look like my pictures? What if I don’t like them? What if it’s terrible and awkward? What if he's a psychopath?

All you fellow Internet daters, any advice? How do you manage pre-date jitters? Comments highly appreciated!

Happy Monday!

XOXO

Drunk Blog

First of all, I want to start by thanking the attendant in the bathroom who noticed that my skirt was tucked into my underwear (or pants as they call them here in London) and yanking it down for me and saving me the embarrassment of going back into the Chelsea club and parading my goods for all to see! Seriously thanks. I appreciate that small act of kindness. And I’m even sorry that I didn’t tip you.

Second of all, I want to thank my friend M for always insisting we order Long Islands and tequila shots as we did when we were very young indeed. And even though we now laugh and say that we are too old for such shenanigans, we always find ourselves ordering that Shi#$ at the bar. M - you are the best! Thanks for making sure we keep it real.

Third of all, I want to thank the irritating short guy who kept feeling me up all night from behind. Seriously, you can’t handle this! Although I suppose you knew this when trying to cop a feel when I wasn’t looking. Let me give you some advice, next time pick on someone your own size!

Fourth, I want to thank A for having an awesome BBQ with really yummy food and fun people who were all down with being dragged out for some impromptu clubbing.

Fifth and finally, thanks to my fabulous blog readers who are putting up with me as I commit the sin of BLOGGING DRUNK! And I promise that after my hangover (oh yeah, I feel it coming) wears off, I will update you on my totally awesome trip to South Africa.

So laters biatches. Hope you have a good night!

P.S. Shoot - I almost forgot. I also want to thank the DJ at Valmont who played awesome music all night. I danced my ass off tonight and had fun.

P. P. S. Ok seriously. I’m going to bed now.

Night night Y’all!

XOXO
-International Woman of Mystery

Being a Foreigner

I remember when I first moved abroad. Actually, I will be more precise and say that I remember when I first moved to Europe, to Sweden in 2004. I spent the first couple months, possibly years in Sweden always felt like a foreigner. It was not easy to fit in. Previous to this I had lived in Asia and it was just way too different to make any real comparisons. I always felt foreign in Asia but it was such a huge foreignness - a huge difference between me and the natives - that the small subtle differences that threw me in Sweden really didn’t matter. Plus, I really only hung out with foreigners - both Bali and Shanghai had massive ex-pat communities... So, the differences were bigger. But they seemed to matter less.

In Sweden however the differences between Sweden and the US were often small (at least compared to Asia) but so important. It is important to note that in Sweden, I only hung out with Swedes - that was probably a big part of the difference. My foreignness was always glaringly obvious - at least when I opened my mouth or expressed thoughts. That was the other thing. I LOOK SWEDISH! Who knew! I grew all all my life thinking that I looked like the typical American “girl next door.” And then I move to Sweden and BAM I realize that I look more Swedish than anything else. I am a faux Swede.

I actually had a slight inkling of this when living in Bali. Indonesians like to shout out what country they think you are from and they almost always would say “Sweden, Sweden” when I passed by (I soon realized this was a good thing as it was right before the Bali bombings and being American wasn’t something you wanted to be really). I also realized that if I asked people men in bars - they never would guess that I was from the US but they would usually get through all the Scandinavian countries plus Germany first. This game has always amused me. I still play it when I’m abroad. I have come to the conclusion that it’s not just the blond hair and blue eyes that lead people to think I’m Swedish but something in the shape of the face...

So, the strange thing about moving to Sweden was that I actually looked just like everyone else! In Asia I stuck out like crazy - no one would mistake me for native (this had it’s benefits because when you were doing something stupid or asking stupid questions, people would give you a break). Because I looked Swedish, people therefore expected me to act Swedish - which was not something I knew how to do (at least at first) and this made me feel all the more foreign.

First of all, I always talked too loud and too much. I spoke my mind. I gave my opinions - loudly. I told people why I thought I as so great. I fought aggressively to in every argument I participated n. Over the years living in Sweden I learned to be more humble. I stopped bragging about myself. I continued to speak my mind (which often got me in trouble in the work place) but I also learned that sometimes it’s ok to back down and that not every confrontation needs to be a dramatic argument.

Second, I wanted to pay for everything for everyone all the time - expecting like you do in the US: what goes around comes around. I buy this round, you buy the next. But the problem was that in Sweden this was so not the deal. You do not buy others drinks. You go to the bar and order a drink for yourself. Even after living there for five years, I cold not bring myself to do this. It just seemed so rude. So at the end of nights out, I often ended up with significantly less money in my bank account than I had started the evening with.

The other thing I couldn’t get over was the bring your own alcohol to the party. And I don’t mean bring a bottle of wine or spirits for the host, Swedes would bring just enough alcohol for their own consumption which often manifested in water bottles full of vodka (for real - it felt like high school). I always found this odd and couldn’t bring myself to do this. If I went to a party and wanted vodka, I would bring a bottle of vodka for the host. When I hosted a party (and I had oh so many parties), I always had enough alcohol for my guests. Don’t get me wrong. I understand that the reasons for this behaviour is because alcohol in Sweden is EXTREMELY EXPENSIVE! Seriously, I bottle of vodka (a 3/4 liter one) will run you about $50. But even so, I just couldn’t adapt to the custom though of buying and bringing only alcohol for yourself. Unfortunately, all of this basically contributed to me spending about half of my income on alcohol... But on the upside, my friends thought I was really generous.

The other big difference in Sweden was that people tended to have cozy (mysig) parties and dinners at home rather than going out to dinner.This was also because of the expensive alcohol and the fact that restaurants are also very expensive in Sweden - and not always that cozy. At first this was very strange for me especially coming from Asia where both food and alcohol were so cheap that the thing to do on weekends was to gather a huge group of people and go to dinner. But I learned to enjoy having my friends over or going to their places - it is much more intimate and cozy and it’s a more flexible and relaxed setting in which to interact rather than being stuck at a table talking to just the people directly seated next to you.

Swedes are known for being reserved and formal. But, I didn't find this with my group of friends. However, I will admit that Swedes are not chatty or all that friendly- at least not to strangers. They generally do not talk to the person behind them in the check out line at the supermarket (as Americans do) just because they are both waiting. They might or might not hold the door for the person behind them, but they certainly will not go out of their way to do it. They do not give random complements - definitely not to strangers and not very often between friends in the way that is common between American women who tend to comment on any small change in the person’s appearance or new article of clothing - this was something that was very hard for me to get used to. For a long time I thought I must have been fat, ugly and wearing bad clothes as I was used to being complimented all he time. But later I learned that Swedes do give compliments -but only when they really mean it. And that makes them much more meaningful.

And the music in Europe. Dance music! My Swedish friends would complain about my American hip hop music when they came to parties at my house. Don’t you have that new song they would always ask me? And it would inevitably be some Euro-pop dance song that I had never heard... I wised up pretty quick though and downloaded all the popular dance music as well as the hip hop music. And then there was the way they danced to the music! The first time I saw Europeans dance was in Bali - and I remember laughing. I thought they looked so silly with their hands in the air hopping up and down and not moving their hips the way Americans do. I forgot about this though until my brother came to visit me and also found it very amusing. He found it even more amusing that I had somehow managed to adopt this style of dance without even realizing it!

I even found myself missing the Eurovison song contest this year! I could have watched it in London I guess... but I don’t have cable and I didn’t have my Swedish friends around inviting me over to drink wine and watch it!

The food took some getting used to as well. I mean sandwiches for breakfast? And what was up with the portion size? It is so small! An appetizer in Europe is just for one person. And portions are designed so that you order an appetizer a main meal and desert. There are no doggy bags. Luckily, I quickly realized that the food was really tasty - a smaller portion of salmon cooked, prepared and presented just right is so amazing. And I loved the Swedish cuisine! Red beet salad, swedish meatballs, cheese, hard bread, reindeer, wild boar, moose meat (love moose meat and wild boar), And who knew herring could be so yummy! I loved it from the start! (I seriously must have been a Swede in another life).

The fika culture of Sweden was also new to me. Fika more or less translates into “coffee break.” But it has a deeper meaning than just take a coffee. I would say a more literal translation would be: “take a coffee with a friend in a cozy cafe, maybe have something sweet to eat if you feel like it, have a chat, relax, DO NOT RUSH.” Europeans are known for their relaxed coffee culture (oddly enough this culture doesn’t really exist in England, I think it’s because instead there is a strong pub culture). The “coffee-to-go” culture does exist in Sweden but barely - it’s not that popular. And I have never seen a drive through coffee place! At first I kid of missed my Dunkin Donuts drive through and my huge America coffee to go.But I realized that having a nice cozy fika with a friend is much better than a coffee on the run.

Obviously, somehow somewhere along the way I adapted to the Swedish European style of things. And I as I realized again and again while home in the US for a month just recently: suddenly I feel like a foreigner in my own country!

I feel more comfortable dancing to dance music than hip hop. Two of my friends have told me that my music preferences are very “euro trash” and both times I was very honestly surprised! When I put those songs on in Sweden, everyone jumps up and starts dancing in the European way where you put one arm in the air and kind of hop around like everyone else during the best parts of the song... How come Americans don’t feel the need to do the same?

I’m unnerved when a stranger comes up to me in the street and talks to me. I find it weird when a stranger walks up to me on the street and randomly compliments my outfit or an article of my clothing. The chatty store attendants stress me out and annoy me. Why can’t they just leave me alone? My own polite manners seem to have also deteriorated. I most often forget to hold doors for people. I don’t offer compliments unless I mean them. And I have all but forgotten how to make polite small talk...

And while I love my flip flops in the summer, I’m always overdressed preferring little black dresses and high heels to the more casual jeans and T-shirt American style of dress. My American friends are constantly reminding me tone it down and that cocktail dresses are not really ever appropriate in small town America.

I refuse to go out to dinner for the most part when I’m home in the US. I hate the big portion sizes and the poorly prepared and presented tasteless food (of course nice places in the city are ok). And I still like my coffee-to-go (thank you Dunkin Donuts drive through) but I find myself missing the cozy European cafe culture of just sitting with friends eating something and drinking coffee an catching up.

Recently, when in San Francisco with my parents, all I wanted was a sandwich or a shrimp salad from a cozy cafe in Sweden. We ended up with clam chowder and burgers and fries! And at the hotel the crappy continental American breakfast was for me a poor substitute for a wonderful European style breakfast buffet with cheese and bread and eggs, cereals, muesli and yogurt (and in Sweden of course there would be herring and smoked salmon). The other night my mother made pasta with pesto. I fund myself really missing the cold pasta with salad fixings such as arugula, olives, mushrooms, peppers as it would be prepared at home in Sweden.

I had the shock of my life the other day when I went to the liquor store to buy Rose Wine and they didn’t have any! WTF? That is ALL YOU DRINK ALL SUMMER LONG IN EUROPE. Every store has so much of it stocked.

It seems very likely that I will be moving back to Boston this fall. I’m very worried about this.

I worry about being able to compete in the work place. It has always been so easy for me as a loud mouthed dominate American in a room full of Europeans or Asians. I don’t even know what American working style is like! And as a side note, I was also appalled by the way people dressed in our Boston office! Flip flops? Skirts and shirts more appropriate for a bar than for work? Men in baggy suits? It’s going to take some getting used to.

At least in Sweden, I had a good excuse - I was a foreigner and no matter how Swedish I looked or how much I adapted to the culture that would never change. But in the US, I’m American (and that will also never change -no matter how much of a Faux Swede I am). This is my country and my culture. I will be expected to fit back in easily. I’m worried about this. When I do stupid things or stay stupid things or dance funny or dress wrong... what’s my excuse? I’m so worried about moving back home. I think it’s going to be really hard to feel like a foreigner in my own country.