What does an expat look like? For a long time, I had a cemented idea in my mind of what someone living abroad looked like: adventurous, young, single and – for some reason – wearing cargo pants. It didn’t look like me at 31 and just married although I did have an affinity for cargo pants. It certainly didn’t look like me 8 months pregnant… and with two dogs in tow. Turns out expats look like all kinds of people: young people, middle-aged people, first timers, returning expats, singles, couples with children, couples with no children, single moms with newborns, families with teenaged children, grandparents, recent college graduates, ladies with dogs, bachelors with nothing tying them down. Think someone like you couldn’t possibly live abroad… why not? Meet the Expats Series is an opportunity to discover that people just like you have made the move. Just buy some cargo pants.
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Meet the Expat: Julain
In first meeting Julain; an organized, questioning, systematic approach to things kind of person, it wouldn’t surprise you to find out that she’s as science-based as they come. What would surprise you are the stories she has tucked away behind her perfectly-squared smile – not because she’s trying to hide them but simply because you never asked. She’s not ashamed of her story and it’s a thick book stuffed with good ones (you’d wonder if she was making some of this stuff up because this doesn’t happen to everyone). If you asked her, like I did, she’d mention – as if in passing – that as a 15-year-old living in Cairo she was deported.
“Deported?!” I chuckled, spitting out a bit of my wine.
“Yeah… but it wasn’t like for some crazy reason or anything.” She waved it off with her hand and shot her cool, sly smile. I knew (ok, maybe I was just pretty sure) that it wasn’t an illegal side business but she was missing what I, of course, thought was incredible – that crazy reason or not -most people don’t just get deported.
But I’ve come to know that this is Julain.
From a small lake village in British Columbia, Canada, Julain tried to fit into a mold of what a proper girl might look like. “Prom dress at 16, boyfriend at 17… it was such a small square to fit inside of. I knew even then, I couldn’t do it. And so did my dad. He knew if I didn’t leave the village, I’d be pregnant soon.”
I laugh because I understand Julain’s cut to the point kind of humor.
So, with her father’s encouragement, she left. For Cairo, Egypt. At 15! I think back to what I was doing at 15 and although I’d like to think I was adventurous, I was definitely not going to late night parties on the Nile. My curfew was midnight. No, actually, it was like 10:30. In Cairo, Julain soon discovered that a little money to grease the security guard in charge of attendance at her school was the best way to trade in Cairo’s school education for its cultural education.
Now known as the location of political demonstrations, Tahrir Square is where Julain snuck off to to learn about Cairo and its busy streets alive with historical museums, vibrant bohemians, and cultural crossroads. It was here that she would meet other friends attending the American University of Cairo. Julain began auditing courses, sitting in on lectures at the University for free without receiving grades or credit; it’s purpose: self-enrichment and academic exploration. Again, I think back to my 15-year-old self. Would I have been auditing courses in philosophy, psychology, or English Lit after just having snuck out of school?
In the next few months, Julain got a “job” from a University friend’s uncle, modeling show cars for BMW. Each appearance paid $200 a night which was a tremendous amount of money considering the allowance that was sent from home to her exchange family “might have been enough to buy an ice cream.” At almost the end of her year, the brother of her exchange father’s family happened to be one of the attendees at the show room and spotted young Julain. Making a show in the show room he yelled at her and called her a disgrace.
The host father, “dishonored” by his exchange student wanted nothing to do with her and called AFS, the program in which she was enrolled. AFS now knew that she, a minor, had been working without documentation but since there was no actual proof and because the government wanted to wash their hands of this matter as quickly as possible Julain was simply deported.
It doesn’t surprise me that this was Julain’s first story of living abroad. The age doesn’t surprise me, the skipping school doesn’t surprise me, the deportation doesn’t even really surprise me. Actually, I feel like I have a better understanding now of where her son, Harrison, gets his adventurous and independent spirit from.
As she thinks about her next move to Ghana, she’s ready. “There’s a season to living abroad, ya know?” She says metaphorically, “When you get to a new country it’s like Spring. Everything is new and opening up, waiting to be explored but I’m at a point now where there’s no newness anymore. I’m in winter and I’m ready for Spring again.”
“So how are you feeling about your next move? Excited? Nervous?”
She jumps on nervous, “Oh no. Not nervous.”
“All excitement?” I ask, expecting her to throw me some small crumb of nerves, “Not even a little nervous?”
“Well, that recent Ebola outbreak near Ghana has thrown me for a loop.”
I should have known. Julain isn’t one for worrying much about life’s what ifs.
More about Julain:
SHE WAS the figure skating champion of her Canadian province of British Columbia when she was 14. When her coach asked her if she wanted to take this “all the way” (Canadian champion? Olympics?) she turned him down, “No. I think I’m done.”
SHE DATED a Saudi Prince who had “a love affair” with country music. “On the weekends he would rip off his thawb (white robe) and put on blue jeans and cowboy boots.”
THE HARDEST JOB she ever had was tree planting in Northern British Columbia. She was 17.
SHE WILL NEVER forget when she was discovered by her host father’s brother. “He called me ‘sharmoota.’ I’ll never forget it. That was the equivalent to maybe… a prostitute.” She paused. “Sharmoota,” she repeated again as if replaying the scene in her mind, “No, worse. Sharmoota is worse than a prostitute. I’ll never forget it.”
HER BOYFRIENDS have accused her of being addicted to change. She doesn’t necessarily disagree.
LIVING ABROAD SATISFIES two things for her. The need for change and commitment without failure.
MOTHER AMERICA SYNDROME is what she called it when we both discussed the expats we’ve met that didn’t like living abroad. In her science teacher way she explained, “I haven’t done research on this so I don’t have hard numbers or anything like that but most people that I’ve met that haven’t liked living abroad were from America and just couldn’t let go of it. They would say, ‘Well in America…’ or ‘If this place would just do it like in America…’
WE BOTH WONDERED why anyone would move so far just to try and recreate the same life as where you came from.
SHE’S ALSO LIVED in Kingdom of Bahrain, Kazakhstan, Cairo (again as an adult, this time for 4 years), and London.
Mucho, mucho thanks to Julain for being so open with her life and story…
~ Pack lightly. Live well. Move often. Repeat. ~Photo Credits: Tahrir Square – James….