´The Art of Relocation!`

Yes, I have come to the conclusion, that relocating is an art in itself. There should be courses on it at the university, not just lectures and a pat on the back with a resounding call of ´good luck´as
you breeze out the door. There definitely needs to be a proper training in the what to do, how to find out and how to stop yourself from pulling your hair out!

It should come easily to a semi pro such as me, for after all my first re location was at the age of
16, when I was send away to ´finishing school´in Switzerland, Luzern for a year. I still have memories of my large and heavy suitcase (not on wheels in those days), a box containing books and a bag filled with paperwork and monies. I was not alone, as there were around 12 of us coming from London or England and mostly knew each other from school or community activities, but nevertheless it was still a little daunting.

We travelled from Gatwick to Zurich and there had to catch a train to Luzern. As there was no
way we could lug our bags alone, we shared a large wagon with porter in tow. The only problem was that we were not geared up for Swiss trains, you know. those that leave punctually on the dot! I still have visions of us throwing the cases aboard, holding on to the door handle, as we
scrambled aboard our train. The frowns of the guard sent us into a fit of giggles as we tumbled and stumbled over our cases and into our seats.

Our troubles did not stop there, but as we were in a group, we eventually shuffled along, learnt the local lingo and found our favorite haunts for shopping. But, to date, I remember well going into the heart of the city for the first time, buying my bus ticket at the vending machine and being the only one to step onto the bus. Hysterical laughter followed my tram as the group I had started out with, were now left behind and I was the only one being transported along! Getting off at the next stop, I beat a fast retreat back to the previous stop, to be greeted by my peers, with tears of laughter rolling down their cheeks, for you see, I had now idea how to get back without them! Daunting when you are only 16 and more than a few years ago. Bearing this in mind, I thought the next time it was time to move house, it would have the same laughter, but a lot more maturity to make the way more smooth.

Thirteen years later, there I was off again, but this time with entourage. After careful planning, but in the end in haste, I packed up my brood of 4 and relocated to another country, leaving my
husband behind. My home sold, but another having been bought through a video clip, I moved
myself, children and 10 suitcases in all, to the Middle East. My first day was spent walking around the streets, with two in the buggy and the other two on either side, looking for the local
supermarket!! Not being able to speak the local language, I used a mixture of hand signals and
sounds of a cow, to explain that I was looking for milk! Through my tears, not of laughter as of
yet, we muddled through and eventually settled down to a new life.

Next, well as you know already, or if you don´t read back through the blog, I made it to China.
Now one could well say, ´if you made it in China, you can make it anywhere!´ True I must reply,
but as you read on, you will see it has not been so easy.....