Sounds familiar.

For two days now, I have constantly heard a familiar sound. The screeching of packing tape. I refer to it as screeching for a reason. I have been sitting in the living room of our now old apartment "supervising" the move with 6 men packing our things, using a extensive amount of packing tape. Constantly things are being wrapped, bound, and stuck together with it. It fair to say that after two days of this, it has become a screech. I have a headache and I can't concentrate on my work because of the sound!

This sound is all too familiar though. Moving from the Netherlands to Shanghai, moving within Shanghai, moving to Beijing, moving to Hanoi, moving within Hanoi, and now moving within Hanoi again. Everything is put into boxes, wrapped in bubble wrap, and shipped to yet another place. The process is always very similar. They come one day with a truck full of folded up boxes, bubble wrap, packing paper, and tonnes of packing paper. Then, with Stanley knifes in hand, they get to work. You always have to be there to supervise, so that they can show you the chips on your plates to make sure you don't sue them for damages. The amount of time it takes to pack all your belongings is unthinkably fast. In less then two days, you life is completely packed up and shipped to a new place. 

Currently we are on the second day of the move to a new apartment. Everyone else in my family is at work or school, so I have been sent to sit in the living room and be submitted to the endless screeching of this dreadful tape. I do find it fascinating though, how only yesterday morning we were still eating breakfast in a fully furnished apartment, and now there are only a few boxes left in the whole place. Fascinating, a a little bit scary. Should it be so easy to remove your life? I will ponder over this question for a little longer, but first, I'm going to find a Advil for my headache.

Travelling.

It’s finally Easter break, the time where I get to go home for 3 weeks. I haven’t been home since the Summer break, so it will be so nice to be going back to an environment that I already know. Now, in order for me to get home, I need to travel. A lot. To me, that seems pretty normal, because it has always been that way. Whether we were going back to the Netherlands or on vacation, it was always a minimum of 10 hour journey. This time, my journey included a 4 modes of transport (taxi, train, underground, plane), 14 hours of flying time, travelling across 7 times zones, and taking up most of my weekend. While it still is a long journey to me, it is not as hard as it might be for some others. I have grown accustom to the procedures of travelling, it has become routine to me. I know the best snacks for on the plane, the most comfortable sleeping positions (if those even exist?) in the airplane. I know how to navigate around an airport swiftly, how to make sure you catch that connecting flight on time. You might think that these things are irrelevant, but they really aren’t. They cause less stress, more certainty of your journey, and make it easier over all. Yes, the journey is still not pleasant, but it’s bearable. 

When I tell my friends about my journey home, some of them are in awe. All they have to do is sit on a train for an hour and they get the same result as me. Yes, that makes me jealous, the ease of it all for them. The simplicity of being able to go home. It is all worth it to me though, the travelling. I might be jet lagged, worn out, stiff from the plane ride, but guess what, I get to go home! When I step into the arrivals hall my family will be there to greet me, after not having seen them for 3 months. Plus, did I mention, it’s 30 degrees in Vietnam? A break for the depressing weather is worth quite a bit, even a long journey. 

The List.

If you're a TCK, you know how much we treasure food from our home country. It is a delicacy, to be eaten as a special treat. For me, it was Hagelslag, a Dutch breakfast food that was nowhere to be found except for in Holland. The same went for Dutch licorice, my favorite candy that became rare for me to get my hands on. Whenever we had a visitor, we always asked them to bring things for us. It was like a exchange; you bring us Dutch food and we'll give you a place to stay. So they would come bearing packs of Hageslag and licorice, and the thoughtful ones would even bring Dutch magazines.These products would be stored in a special cupboard that we were only allowed to take from if we asked our parents. It has like the holy grail of the house.

Friends and family didn't have it too bad, my parents never allowed us to ask for more then two products. This was always a hard choice, and my brother and I would sit and plan which products we would ask for together, to get the most out of the opportunity. When my Dad went on bussiness to Holland however, it was a whole different story. There were no limits then, and "the list" would be produced. A list of items which we "needed". This included toiletries, clothing items, food, books, magazines, anything that was remotely Dutch. We got greedy at the opportunity to get our hands on Dutch things. This often resulted in my Dad having to buy a extra suitcase just to fit everything in to bring back. His coming home was always the best. We would sit around his suitcase and bask in the glory of Dutch products, and be giddy for days on end.

This wasn't only for Dutch products. When we moved to Vietnam, we started to miss Chinese food. I missed Pretz and Pocky snacks while my brother wanted to get his hands on some Hi-Chew candy. So whenever my Dad went to China for business (and this was quite often), he would bring this stuff back from us. It was a little piece of the past, and whenever we devoured our treats, it would always bring back memories.

The reason I'm writing a post on this is because I have been sent "the list". Me now being in Western civilization, I can get my hands on things that are not available in Vietnam. The list includes toiletries from Boots, books, and Easter chocolate. I'm glad to bring this stuff back for them, as I know how much I always enjoyed it when people did it for me. So when I travel back home next week, half my suitcase will be taken up by items from "the list".

Mulan.

After being told that we were moving to China (see my last blog post on how that happened!), my dad decided to take me to see Mulan. His thought process was that if he showed me a movie about China, I might be more excited about it. He treated me to popcorn and a drink in the cinema so I was a happy child, until the movie started.

I don't know if you have even seen Mulan, but it is not a sweet, happy film all the way through. Sure, Mushu is adorable and funny, and Yao, Ling and Chien Po can make anyone crack up. The film is however largely taken up by a battle, mainly the preparations for it. Now, there aren't a whole lot of scenes that have fighting in them, but Shan Yu (the guy leading the Hun army) freaked me out. With his yellow/green eyes, very harsh shaped eyebrows and his creepy grin, he gave me the shivers. Plus, his bird only made it worse. Keep in mind, I was seven years old at this point, so my thought process went something like this; this creepy man is Chinese, so all Chinese people are like this, I am going to live in China, it is going to be horrible. It's safe to say that by the end of the film, I was more opposed to moving then I was before.

So, what was meant to be a positive step towards becoming used to the idea of moving to China, turned into a scared seven year old. Why would I want to move to a country that was being attacked by a scary man with his bird and his huge army? My dad explained to me numerous times how the movie was not real, and that the people in China are not like that. To redeem his first attempt, he bought me a children's book about China. It was filled with pictures of the cities, the people, the food, the scenery. I loved that book, and it overshadowed my nightmares of Shan Yu. It took some convincing, but slowly I opened up to the idea of moving again.

So a note to any parents reading this that are in a similar position my dad was in; watch the movie before showing it to your child. I love my dad and I know he tried his very best to make the move easiest for me, and I look back at this now and laugh. Although Shan Yu still haunts my dreams sometimes. 

We're moving.

When I was little, I never thought that I would live anywhere except for Eindhoven, where I was born. I knew my dad traveled to China many months of the year, but that was work, so it didn't impact me, right? Well, as I found out when I was 7, wrong.

Looking back, I understand how hard it must have been for my parents. How do you tell your 7 year old daughter that you are moving to China? There is no easy way to go about it, sugar coating it won't make much of a difference. After all, you are telling your child you are taking her out of her known environment, away from her friends, school, dance class, and family, and placing her into a culture that is 100% foreign to her. My parents took the approach of bribing. This might sounds bad, but it was probably a smart move. Take you kid to their favorite place, and such big news might seem a little less horrifying.

It happened in one of my favorite places in all of Eindhoven. My parents treated us to a day at the indoor swimming pool. Now, let me just tell you, this place was amazing. It had 5 slides, a wave bath, and as a little kid, it was paradise! So needless to say, when my parents spontaneously took me there, I was ecstatic. Yet, I was too young to be slightly suspicious. After a few hours of running around, trying to go on the slides as many times as possible, my dad took me to the little kids pool for a "chat". I wish I could remember the exact words that came out of his mouth, but it was something along the lines of; "You know how daddy always goes far away for work? To China? How would you feel about going with me, living in China?". And just like that, my world shattered. Well, that's a bit over dramatic, I was 7 after all, but it's safe to say that I was feeling a mixture of confusion, anger, and resentment.

Needless to say, this memory is imprinted in my mind. Every time I see a swimming pool, I think back to that moment; the moment I became a TCK.