July 28, 2011

This is an old-school blog post of mine (okay, not that old-school), that I thought opened up the whole “Expatriate-Ellie” thing nicely.
It’s from 23.04.2011.
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One of the most stressful things about moving abroad, shifting around, moving back home and moving abroad again is the question of stuff.

As I like to say, when I first moved to Germany (envision old Grandpa on an armchair by the fireplace saying, “Oh, back in my day…” here…), I came with one bag. That’s it. One crappy little suitcase. I had to be extremely considerate of what I brought. I brought a number of sentimental items, and went light on the rest. Think one pair of ballet flats was my only pair of shoes heading into winter. Yeah, that light. When you’ve only got forty pounds to deal with, there’s not really any other choice, is there?

Once I started to move around and settle in Germany, two things happened. One, I had an innate desire for my stuff. Two, I wanted to actually settle down and stop living like a hobo who acquires along the way (that’s a different rant for a different day). I think whenever I mention how attached I am to my things, some self-righteous wingnut comes up to me and says, “Ahhh, but things are just things. Why care about things? After all, once you die, you cannot take them with you, can you? Har, har.”

Well, duh.

But frankly, I suppose wherever I’m going after I die creates no need for those things? Money for the bus? Not likely. Sofa, table, Tupperware, forks and knives? Also not likely. “But right now,” I want to say to the wingnut, “We are something called alive on a round ball called The Earth, and I need my fricking shit. I don’t have enough money to keep buying everything new, nor do I want to.”
I mean, don’t get me wrong. When the movers in Germany (for the move back to Calgary) quoted something around 3000 yoyos, my jaw hit the floor. 3000 yoyos for books and Tupperware? For realsies? Ditto for the movers from Canada to Germany. 4500 dollars? For the same stuff, if not less?  For realsies?

Yes, it was for realsies. So, I declined both offers, culled my most precious belongings, and mailed whacks of it instead.

Now, I suppose pretty much nobody knows this, but when I was on vacation in Canada in November 2009, I had a nervous breakdown. Why, you ask? Because of my fucking Corningware. Yeah. That’s right.

You see, I was going through a very rough patch, and missed everything about Calgary. Stupid as it was, those belongings symbolized the life I had there, and the life I no longer had.
Call me sentimental.

Yup, I bet you can see where I’m going with all this – my stuff is more than random items used in my daily life. They represent certain experiences and feelings to me, and I find it very hard to let things go (aside from my furniture out of sheer practicality; I mean, how can you mail a table overseas?!).
So, seeing as today is the one-day break in the four-day-Zombie-Jesus-lives-again silent celebration that is this weekend, the post is supposed to be coming. And M. received the last (well, almost last) of my things in the mail this last week, and they are supposed to be arriving at my flat today.

Hugging and kissing my sponge holder from Provence is a very possible likelihood today.

Because, lame as it is – and trust me, I know it’s lame – having my things back makes me so very happy. I mean… Can I get by on the things I have here? Well, aside from the fact I’d have to buy some real cutlery and stop using my Tupperware travel stuff, sure; I’ve got pretty much everything I need.

But having my real things, not the things I’ve just bought, makes me really feel at home.
Maybe my new plates and coffee machine, for example, will really create a sense of attachment for me. But not today. Today it’s about my Tupperware, the Egyptian cotton towels I splurged on with scholarship money when I first moved out on my own, and little trinkets from my travels.

Then, all that will be left are books and Christmas ornaments, which come in little bits over the next couple months.

Ohhh, my things, how I love you. *insert contented sigh here*