Given that this is “moving season” for the Army (summertime has lower impact on school aged children) – the base is flooded with new and naïeve folks like us, bouncing around trying to figure out which way is up. This also means that the base temporary housing is full, so we were told pretty early in our moving preparations to find a place to stay in town. We were given a list of approved hotel options from the base from which to make our choice. There were many hotels – all unfamiliar to us in their city placement, and most new to us in their brand names. We contemplated a German brand with an Embassy Suites type set up – with a living space separated from the bedroom and microwave/fridge provided – thinking that the extra space may quell any frustrations of having to sleep/wake at the same time or not have any solitude whatsoever. However, ultimately we decided to rack up some hotel points with a US Chain that had American style beds and at least some guaranteed English channels on the tv.
The setup at our hotel, although not luxurious, is pretty great. We are close to the two bases that we frequent most regularly. Breakfast is included in our room rate, as is parking and internet for one laptop. We get 15% off of all of our meals purchased in the hotel (still dang pricey), and there is a “PCS Lounge” downstairs which has free sodas, a microwave, a big screen tv with the movie channels unscrambled, and a foosball table/toys for the kiddos - and a washer and dryer for our use (whoopee!!).
Laundry in Germany is an experience. Once you figure out how to use the machines (with all buttons and dial stops in German), you realize the following things:
1- The washer door locks as soon as you hit start, and won’t stop until the load is done….so DON’T drop a sock as you load the washer!!
2- German dryers are “condensation” dryers; which means there is no vent for the steam produced by the hot air on your wet clothes. So: it takes a long time for things to dry…I mean, like 2 hours….AND – when you pull the clothes out they are hot and damp so it takes a few minutes to determine whether they are actually dry or not. (Once they cool, the last bit of moisture evaporates to get them to the final dry stage). Opening the door and pulling the clothes out requires one to exercise a lot of caution…they are H-O-T. I’m talking “Hot Potato” hot. “Oven mitts would be good here” hot (Note to self: Perhaps a pair of Ove Gloves would be a good purchase for when I am doing laundry at home in the future).
The logic behind the condensation dryer makes sense – given that the buildings here are frequently a hundred years old. No vents were plumbed in 1910 apartments, and today’s citizens require the ability to do laundry in house. However – this process means that a load of laundry can take us 3 hours from washer to hanger – and that’s quite an investment of time. Add to that the added complication of there being one washer and dryer for use of all of the families using the PCS Lounge, and we’re spending 12 hour days attempting to do laundry each time – and not necessarily getting it all done.
Hotel living has its ups and downs. On one hand, it’s nice to have someone else making the bed each morning, and having breakfast immediately ready when we’re hungry in the morning is a definite luxury. The downside is that we’ve been eating out for every meal for pretty much a month now. This is impactfull on our waistlines despite our best efforts (If fabric could scream, you’d hear the cries from where you sit reading this now, I’m sure). But Hubbz’s new command has been amazing about giving him time to get settled here and find a place to live. So, really, we’re spending a ton of time together, and it feels a lot like a European vacation…with hot damp laundry :)
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Trying to catch up!! / In Processing
It's been a busy week (and a half!) for us over here. Between that and the fact that we are sharing one free internet login, I haven't had many opportunities to touch base with you. Sorry about that! I’m going to try to keep up with a number of entries for today. Just ignore the dates I post until further notice. I’ll let you know when I’m all caught up and able to post closer to the actual day our experiences unfold :)
- IN PROCESSING CLASSES: We spent last week mostly in class, hearing from representatives from most of the entities on base. This is really helpful for someone like me, who is still new to the services on a base, and is happy to have so many resources in a foreign land. However, for people like Hubbz, who have been in the military for almost 15 years and have heard these kinds of speeches a million times, it was more of a snore fest. However, for both of us, it was a big reminder that we are out of the Navy world and smack dab in the middle of the Army. Up until last week, neither one of us truly understood that "Hoo-ah" was both a question and an answer, an expression of woe, and of course, a rallying cry. We sat through a 10 minute brief that was punctuated with "hoo-ah"s to the point that I was (surprise, surprise) unable to neutralize the look of shock and amusement that decorated my face. I'll try to recreate a moment of the experience for you here, but keep in mind, that this pales in comparison to the actual experience.
All in all, the experience was really valuable. We learned about Customs rules, and what our medical procedures will be and even where to find information about touring the area on base. All in all, there is a lot to offer here – now if we can just remember who to call for what!
Hoo-ah?
- IN PROCESSING CLASSES: We spent last week mostly in class, hearing from representatives from most of the entities on base. This is really helpful for someone like me, who is still new to the services on a base, and is happy to have so many resources in a foreign land. However, for people like Hubbz, who have been in the military for almost 15 years and have heard these kinds of speeches a million times, it was more of a snore fest. However, for both of us, it was a big reminder that we are out of the Navy world and smack dab in the middle of the Army. Up until last week, neither one of us truly understood that "Hoo-ah" was both a question and an answer, an expression of woe, and of course, a rallying cry. We sat through a 10 minute brief that was punctuated with "hoo-ah"s to the point that I was (surprise, surprise) unable to neutralize the look of shock and amusement that decorated my face. I'll try to recreate a moment of the experience for you here, but keep in mind, that this pales in comparison to the actual experience.
SPEAKER: Welcome to USAG Stuttgart, Hoo-ah! My name is XXXXX . I work in the office of Col. XXXX, Hoo-ah. So, I am the first point of contact, Hoo-ah, if you get in trouble and you need a helping hand. Hoo-ah?
CROWD: Hoo-ah!....you get the drift. Most of the information was not presented in quite this fashion. But the experience really drove home the fact that we weren't in Kansas anymore!
SPEAKER: Hoo-ah. I'm not saying that I'm going to bail you out, Hoo-ah. But, I'm here to help, Hoo-ah?
CROWD: Hoo-ah!
All in all, the experience was really valuable. We learned about Customs rules, and what our medical procedures will be and even where to find information about touring the area on base. All in all, there is a lot to offer here – now if we can just remember who to call for what!
Hoo-ah?
Friday, June 11, 2010
A Warm Welcome
Hubbalicious and I had discussed the notion of renting a car upon arrival in Germany and decided that the mobility would be a nice freedom for a couple who was stuck in a hotel and curious about our surroundings. Hubbz’s new command was very accommodating throughout the transition process and had reached out a multitude of times via email to make sure that he (we) was getting his questions answered. In the days leading up to our departure from the US, they emailed offering a ride from the airport and an escort directly to base to get the check in process started. We demurred, since we already had the car reserved, and figured we’d be pretty fried upon arrival. It would be nice to be fresh and clean and rested before we attempted to put our collective best foot forward with the new command.
Hubbz and I were flabbergasted, as we pushed our ridiculously loaded luggage cart out of customs, to discover a sign with our names on it and two smiling faces to greet us at the Stuttgart Airport. Two of the staffers from Hubbz’s new office were there waiting to welcome us and get us familiarized with the base and surrounding area. They loaded our luggage into their car (barely making it fit!!) and took us off to the base to get us checked in.
Security at the new digs is tighter than our old base. Each person in an arriving car is ID’ed, and badges are scanned to verify that we are who we say we are, and that we’re currently cleared to enter the base. First stop was the base office to get our ID’s into the system. This involved having our pictures taken. So, with oily face and rumpled hair and clothing, I posed for my new ID picture – looking quite the part of the refugee in my new home country!!
The command staff also took us to check Hubbz in at his new command (so he wouldn’t have any leave charged against him). They showed us the Exchange building and the building where the bank, post office and our indoctrination classes would be held. They had made us a binder with maps and directions to the military installations from our hotel, and hours and locations of all of the base buildings. They even had a bag of snacks and German beer at the ready to welcome us to our new community. We were so touched and so impressed with their thoroughness and kindness. What a warm welcome to our new home!!
After our new friends dropped us off at our hotel, we spent an hour freshening up and grabbing a bite to eat – and then took a taxi back to the airport to pick up our car. We rented a wagon in anticipation of the numerous suitcases we’d need to move. Ironically, we got a Ford. But in the rental place’s defense…they also offered us two Korean cars also.
Since we were now cleared to enter the base without an escort, our first stop was the post exchange – to purchase our new GPS unit. In the past, I’ve shunned the idea of having an all knowing entity directing me from one place to another. But, given that we’d be navigating new road signs, new road rules, and a hundred different roads that all sound like “Farfignugen strasse” to our untrained ears – we figured it was actually an investment in our well being and the safety of others.
It was a big, busy day for a couple of weary travelers – but we were filled with excitement and adventure and the promise of an interesting next few years!
Hubbz and I were flabbergasted, as we pushed our ridiculously loaded luggage cart out of customs, to discover a sign with our names on it and two smiling faces to greet us at the Stuttgart Airport. Two of the staffers from Hubbz’s new office were there waiting to welcome us and get us familiarized with the base and surrounding area. They loaded our luggage into their car (barely making it fit!!) and took us off to the base to get us checked in.
Security at the new digs is tighter than our old base. Each person in an arriving car is ID’ed, and badges are scanned to verify that we are who we say we are, and that we’re currently cleared to enter the base. First stop was the base office to get our ID’s into the system. This involved having our pictures taken. So, with oily face and rumpled hair and clothing, I posed for my new ID picture – looking quite the part of the refugee in my new home country!!
The command staff also took us to check Hubbz in at his new command (so he wouldn’t have any leave charged against him). They showed us the Exchange building and the building where the bank, post office and our indoctrination classes would be held. They had made us a binder with maps and directions to the military installations from our hotel, and hours and locations of all of the base buildings. They even had a bag of snacks and German beer at the ready to welcome us to our new community. We were so touched and so impressed with their thoroughness and kindness. What a warm welcome to our new home!!
After our new friends dropped us off at our hotel, we spent an hour freshening up and grabbing a bite to eat – and then took a taxi back to the airport to pick up our car. We rented a wagon in anticipation of the numerous suitcases we’d need to move. Ironically, we got a Ford. But in the rental place’s defense…they also offered us two Korean cars also.
Since we were now cleared to enter the base without an escort, our first stop was the post exchange – to purchase our new GPS unit. In the past, I’ve shunned the idea of having an all knowing entity directing me from one place to another. But, given that we’d be navigating new road signs, new road rules, and a hundred different roads that all sound like “Farfignugen strasse” to our untrained ears – we figured it was actually an investment in our well being and the safety of others.
It was a big, busy day for a couple of weary travelers – but we were filled with excitement and adventure and the promise of an interesting next few years!
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
Experienced Travelers Travel Light....
You wouldn’t know it to look at me, but when it comes to packing…I am a total chick. Yes, I know, I have travelled a lot. I should be used to packing light. I should have one suit and two blouses that I can wear for a week and a half in stunning but efficient combinations. I should roll one petite and lithe suitcase onto the plane at my heels and effortlessly slide it into the overhead. Then take my seat looking fresh, graceful and mildly bored with the long flight ahead of me…
Instead, I am a chick. Being a chick means I have a multitude of cosmetics that travel with me. It means that using hotel shampoo and conditioner is waaayyyy too risky for my chick hair, and while I can cram my necessary products into 3.5 fl oz bottles designed for travelers like me – the amount of little bottles I need will more than fill a quart sized ziplock bag that the TSA requires. I need my lotion, my sunscreen, my hairbrushes, and my cosmetics. Being a chick also means that I need multiple accessories, like: more than one pair of shoes. Actually, I need more than three pairs of shoes…and, in the spirit of full disclosure….I frequently take more like six pair along with me.
So, chick that I am, when I travel for more than a weekend, I check a bag. I check a big bag. When I realize that I have a little extra room in my suitcase – I don’t pick 5 items that I probably can struggle through without so that I can downsize to a carry on sized bag…I add 10 more things until that big suitcase is full. That’s right, people. I am THAT girl.
It turns out, that when it comes to packing….the Hubbz is a bit of chick too (In a very masculine and manly way, of course)! This is perhaps why we are so compatible: that “think it through and prepare for every scenario” compatibility. So, as we gathered the items that had to make the immediate journey with us to Stuttgart, we realized....we were bringing a lot of stuff!!
Future PCS’ers…I am here to tell you this: check the baggage allowances on the airline you’re using to get overseas. Consider the ridiculous practice that airlines are now implementing in which they charge you for each bag, with an extra charge for out weighing their imposed single bag weight limits. I swear I saw dollar signs flash across the eyes of the very kind woman who checked us in for the flight. Because, get this, we rolled up on the airport with: four suitcases, one large seabag, a military issue backpack that was bigger than any I had ever seen before, two laptop bags and my large carry on bag which was a LARGE LL Bean Boat and Tote with my purse and various other items stuffed inside. (PRODUCT ENDORSEMENT: Highly Recommend the LL Bean Boat and Tote, btw. I have two and I truly do want one in every size!!!).
We had, in a fit of inspiration, decided to check the baggage allowance for our carrier when our packers reached critical status (we figured if we got to the realm of utterly ridiculous, we could off load items to the express shipment). We then discovered that this carrier would permit 3 bags of 100lbs each without charge for Hubbz as he was traveling on orders (phew!). My elite status allowed two bags under 75 lbs for no charge – and the rest we humped through the airport, praying that the gate agent wouldn’t demand a gate check as we boarded our first small regional jet.
I am happy to report that not only did we arrive with all of our carry on baggage in our possession – but that we were reunited with each and every one of our beloved bags at the luggage carousel in Stuttgart! Ah, it was a happy reunion. I smiled and offered to help as my big strong Hubbz loaded up the luggage cart with our multitude of house sized suitcases. I smiled broadly as with Herculean strength, he pushed the cart through customs and I sashayed along next to him carrying only my purse…and then it hit me like a ton of bricks….How the heck are we going to fit all of this into our hotel room??
Instead, I am a chick. Being a chick means I have a multitude of cosmetics that travel with me. It means that using hotel shampoo and conditioner is waaayyyy too risky for my chick hair, and while I can cram my necessary products into 3.5 fl oz bottles designed for travelers like me – the amount of little bottles I need will more than fill a quart sized ziplock bag that the TSA requires. I need my lotion, my sunscreen, my hairbrushes, and my cosmetics. Being a chick also means that I need multiple accessories, like: more than one pair of shoes. Actually, I need more than three pairs of shoes…and, in the spirit of full disclosure….I frequently take more like six pair along with me.
So, chick that I am, when I travel for more than a weekend, I check a bag. I check a big bag. When I realize that I have a little extra room in my suitcase – I don’t pick 5 items that I probably can struggle through without so that I can downsize to a carry on sized bag…I add 10 more things until that big suitcase is full. That’s right, people. I am THAT girl.
It turns out, that when it comes to packing….the Hubbz is a bit of chick too (In a very masculine and manly way, of course)! This is perhaps why we are so compatible: that “think it through and prepare for every scenario” compatibility. So, as we gathered the items that had to make the immediate journey with us to Stuttgart, we realized....we were bringing a lot of stuff!!
Future PCS’ers…I am here to tell you this: check the baggage allowances on the airline you’re using to get overseas. Consider the ridiculous practice that airlines are now implementing in which they charge you for each bag, with an extra charge for out weighing their imposed single bag weight limits. I swear I saw dollar signs flash across the eyes of the very kind woman who checked us in for the flight. Because, get this, we rolled up on the airport with: four suitcases, one large seabag, a military issue backpack that was bigger than any I had ever seen before, two laptop bags and my large carry on bag which was a LARGE LL Bean Boat and Tote with my purse and various other items stuffed inside. (PRODUCT ENDORSEMENT: Highly Recommend the LL Bean Boat and Tote, btw. I have two and I truly do want one in every size!!!).
We had, in a fit of inspiration, decided to check the baggage allowance for our carrier when our packers reached critical status (we figured if we got to the realm of utterly ridiculous, we could off load items to the express shipment). We then discovered that this carrier would permit 3 bags of 100lbs each without charge for Hubbz as he was traveling on orders (phew!). My elite status allowed two bags under 75 lbs for no charge – and the rest we humped through the airport, praying that the gate agent wouldn’t demand a gate check as we boarded our first small regional jet.
I am happy to report that not only did we arrive with all of our carry on baggage in our possession – but that we were reunited with each and every one of our beloved bags at the luggage carousel in Stuttgart! Ah, it was a happy reunion. I smiled and offered to help as my big strong Hubbz loaded up the luggage cart with our multitude of house sized suitcases. I smiled broadly as with Herculean strength, he pushed the cart through customs and I sashayed along next to him carrying only my purse…and then it hit me like a ton of bricks….How the heck are we going to fit all of this into our hotel room??
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
Our Journey
Some of you know, that my last job has taken me to many places around the globe. This, along with the actual work that I do there, and the folks that I meet in these places, has been a huge source of enjoyment in my adult life. It has also been a font for that golden commodity known as “Frequent Flier Miles”.
I am absolutely loyal to one airline, and, somewhat like the George Clooney character in Up in the Air, I do what I can to maximize the miles in my account, which in turn, maximizes my comfort in transit. I have gotten fairly adept at evaluating the type of plane offered on the routes I take in order to maximize my chances at the upgrade to first or business class. I have a little script I’ve worked up to help the reservations operator understand that the guaranteed confirmation to business class, is far more important to me than the route or even the date I arrive at my destination. I have ground this down to a system that works for me – and I am not afraid to spend an hour doing research about the flight options before I even pick up the phone to book (I always use the phone, since the agents can help me weigh the options far better than the computer can).
In the years I have spent with Hubbalicious, my passion for flying in business class, and earning the miles to ensure this, has been a source of humor and teasing on his part. He would shake his head and laugh when I wrung my hands at my waiting list status on the night before a trip. He would stand behind me as I knit my brow over my screen and pages of scrap paper trying to organize my best route. And when I called him once from Bangkok to tell him I’d be coming home a day later in order to guarantee my flight would be in business class, he responded by singing Fergie’s Glamourous to me at $2.51 per minute (mock if you will, but the ability to recline with your feet up during a 12 hour flight is like being offered an in flight massage – who would turn that down!?!?)
But, oh the jokes are over, as Hubbz drank the Kool Aide himself a year or so ago. He is now equally or MORE focused on the comforts that having “status” on an airline can bring. He now yearns for the access to airport lounges, and automatic 5 inches of extra legroom in coach. He marvels at my ability to get gate agents to waive extra baggage fees or take just one more look at whether a better seat is available. He yearns for the “upgraded” seat on long flights, where mysterious glass cups and real silverware materialize, and warm chocolate chip cookies are passed around an hour before landing. Oh yes, my friends, I have created a monster, and the monster calls me from airports asking “Is there any magic you can work for me?”
I share all of this, not to brag, but to set the scene for our impending flight to Germany. I asked fairly early in the process if we’d be able to request my favorite airline for the trip. Wouldn’t it be great if I could work some magic to get us upgraded for a long flight in relative comfort? Wouldn’t it be nice to have a celebratory glass of champagne as we took off for our next new adventure? Wouldn’t it be fantastic to be able to arrive refreshed from at least a few hours of good sleep? Hubbz wasn't enthusiastic about making a bold request such as this. It's one of those situations, he explained, where you don't want to annoy the person with all of that ability to make you miserable! I could certainly see his point.
There were a number of hoops to jump through before the Navy would buy our plane tickets. Some of them I have referenced in earlier posts (medical clearance and fancy new passports, to name a few). There were further checks and balances once those first hurdles were cleared. It basically goes like this….the VA base says we are cleared to go overseas based on the screenings we do in Norfolk….they send that info to the German base we are supposed to join. Germany gives us the final thumbs up and sends that message back to Hubbz’s squadron in VA. Then, someone at the squadron has to walk that approval over to the personnel department, who forwards it to the travel folks, who book our tickets. It’s all basically a system of checks and balances to ensure that everyone agrees that we are an appropriate family for the move. The problem with this system, is that any latency sets off a chain of shrugging and head scratching events that result in a basic lack of final confirmation that you’re actually moving!! Poor Hubbz had to make many phone calls and patiently ask about the status of our paperwork. A poor admin officer from his squadron was making personalized trips to the office that was receiving and stamping our forms, just to make sure that our paperwork wasn’t buried in a pile somewhere. All in all, it took a month to do what could have been done in a week…but it DID get done – and we DID finally get those golden tickets.
Our tickets didn’t arrive until most of our stuff was packed out of the house…but we were happy to see that they were 1) for the day we had hoped and 2) that we would be traveling together (both unfounded doubts had crept into our collective consciousness in the “wouldn’t that suck” category). The bummer of it was that our tickets weren’t on a carrier on which I had any “status”. So we flew the 8 hour flight in the cramped and crowded part of an Airbus 330 and tried to sleep sitting upright. My dreams of champagne toasts dashed, as Hubbz tried to balance his water glass in his teeth to reach the book that had slid down under the seat just inches from his nose.
All in all, it was fine. The trip consisted of one long flight over water, bookended by two small regional flights that seemed to go from ascent to descent without any “hang time” in the middle. We weren’t able to have seats together on the flight into Stuttgart – so we didn’t have a shared “moment” as we flew low in final approach for the runway and took in an aerial view of our new hometown. I met my beloved at the end of the jetway with a smile and a “welcome home” and with that, our Ex-Pat tenure had begun.
I am absolutely loyal to one airline, and, somewhat like the George Clooney character in Up in the Air, I do what I can to maximize the miles in my account, which in turn, maximizes my comfort in transit. I have gotten fairly adept at evaluating the type of plane offered on the routes I take in order to maximize my chances at the upgrade to first or business class. I have a little script I’ve worked up to help the reservations operator understand that the guaranteed confirmation to business class, is far more important to me than the route or even the date I arrive at my destination. I have ground this down to a system that works for me – and I am not afraid to spend an hour doing research about the flight options before I even pick up the phone to book (I always use the phone, since the agents can help me weigh the options far better than the computer can).
In the years I have spent with Hubbalicious, my passion for flying in business class, and earning the miles to ensure this, has been a source of humor and teasing on his part. He would shake his head and laugh when I wrung my hands at my waiting list status on the night before a trip. He would stand behind me as I knit my brow over my screen and pages of scrap paper trying to organize my best route. And when I called him once from Bangkok to tell him I’d be coming home a day later in order to guarantee my flight would be in business class, he responded by singing Fergie’s Glamourous to me at $2.51 per minute (mock if you will, but the ability to recline with your feet up during a 12 hour flight is like being offered an in flight massage – who would turn that down!?!?)
But, oh the jokes are over, as Hubbz drank the Kool Aide himself a year or so ago. He is now equally or MORE focused on the comforts that having “status” on an airline can bring. He now yearns for the access to airport lounges, and automatic 5 inches of extra legroom in coach. He marvels at my ability to get gate agents to waive extra baggage fees or take just one more look at whether a better seat is available. He yearns for the “upgraded” seat on long flights, where mysterious glass cups and real silverware materialize, and warm chocolate chip cookies are passed around an hour before landing. Oh yes, my friends, I have created a monster, and the monster calls me from airports asking “Is there any magic you can work for me?”
I share all of this, not to brag, but to set the scene for our impending flight to Germany. I asked fairly early in the process if we’d be able to request my favorite airline for the trip. Wouldn’t it be great if I could work some magic to get us upgraded for a long flight in relative comfort? Wouldn’t it be nice to have a celebratory glass of champagne as we took off for our next new adventure? Wouldn’t it be fantastic to be able to arrive refreshed from at least a few hours of good sleep? Hubbz wasn't enthusiastic about making a bold request such as this. It's one of those situations, he explained, where you don't want to annoy the person with all of that ability to make you miserable! I could certainly see his point.
There were a number of hoops to jump through before the Navy would buy our plane tickets. Some of them I have referenced in earlier posts (medical clearance and fancy new passports, to name a few). There were further checks and balances once those first hurdles were cleared. It basically goes like this….the VA base says we are cleared to go overseas based on the screenings we do in Norfolk….they send that info to the German base we are supposed to join. Germany gives us the final thumbs up and sends that message back to Hubbz’s squadron in VA. Then, someone at the squadron has to walk that approval over to the personnel department, who forwards it to the travel folks, who book our tickets. It’s all basically a system of checks and balances to ensure that everyone agrees that we are an appropriate family for the move. The problem with this system, is that any latency sets off a chain of shrugging and head scratching events that result in a basic lack of final confirmation that you’re actually moving!! Poor Hubbz had to make many phone calls and patiently ask about the status of our paperwork. A poor admin officer from his squadron was making personalized trips to the office that was receiving and stamping our forms, just to make sure that our paperwork wasn’t buried in a pile somewhere. All in all, it took a month to do what could have been done in a week…but it DID get done – and we DID finally get those golden tickets.
Our tickets didn’t arrive until most of our stuff was packed out of the house…but we were happy to see that they were 1) for the day we had hoped and 2) that we would be traveling together (both unfounded doubts had crept into our collective consciousness in the “wouldn’t that suck” category). The bummer of it was that our tickets weren’t on a carrier on which I had any “status”. So we flew the 8 hour flight in the cramped and crowded part of an Airbus 330 and tried to sleep sitting upright. My dreams of champagne toasts dashed, as Hubbz tried to balance his water glass in his teeth to reach the book that had slid down under the seat just inches from his nose.
All in all, it was fine. The trip consisted of one long flight over water, bookended by two small regional flights that seemed to go from ascent to descent without any “hang time” in the middle. We weren’t able to have seats together on the flight into Stuttgart – so we didn’t have a shared “moment” as we flew low in final approach for the runway and took in an aerial view of our new hometown. I met my beloved at the end of the jetway with a smile and a “welcome home” and with that, our Ex-Pat tenure had begun.
Sunday, June 6, 2010
Getting Back to “Us”
Sara Smiley, a popular military spouse blogger and author, recently wrote a column in which she described the experience of preparing to send your solider/airman/sailor off to deployment (http://www.bangordailynews.com/detail/144186.html) . In it, she describes the stress and tension that comes with preparing to live apart from your spouse, as well as the increase in arguments that can arise as you mentally prepare to live independently. She writes: “It’s even easier to say goodbye if you are angry with that person, which is why military spouses often fight in the weeks leading up to a deployment.” I have heard this before, from many sources, actually. Each time Hubbz has prepared for a deployment, it is in the brochures that he carries home from work, or in the spiel given by the counselors who brief the families in his detachment about what to expect during the deployment.
Each time I read about this, I must admit, I feel a bit smug. “That doesn’t happen to Hubbz and I”, I think. I know it DOES happen. The concept itself is logical, and the incidence is real and discussed amongst my military spouse colleagues – but we, somehow, are immune to this. Our “countdown time” is tender and bittersweet. There are many more sad smiles across the table, when a group conversation turns to a concert or an event that we will miss spending together. There are far more hand squeezes and quiet hugs shared between us, when the realization of the time we’re about to spend apart strikes one of us in a fleeting thought. We are patient with each other as one rehashes for the umpteenth time, how to execute a task that the other usually takes care of. Doing so is acknowledging that this is an act of love and caretaking that must now be done through careful verbal instruction, instead of quietly and quickly behind the scenes, to keep our small family running at its current operating speed. We are lucky. We are blessed. We are strong….and I am smug….until it comes time to PCS.
Somehow, we are the anomaly. The stressors that the experts warn about are those that we quickly sail past – but the DAY that the orders show up for our next change of duty station, the couple on the cover of the romance novel is replaced by Mr. “Just Do It My Way, and Don’t Ask Questions” and Mrs. “Once Again, You are Doing It Wrong”. Hubbz and I are both “type A”, oldest siblings with a penchant for organizing things and people. As I’m sure you can quickly surmise, when it’s time to get things organized for a long-distance move, we both have a clear idea of what needs to be done, and in which order it should be executed…..and that creates a situation with two Chiefs with no tribe to boss around. Not exactly the recipe for harmonious teamwork.
This tension seems to peak just about the day before the packers arrive and then the acrimony seems to dissipate in major chunks as each truck drives off with more of our stuff inside. That last Friday, with our last shipment done, and our old house keys labeled on the kitchen counter in wait for the new tenants of our house – there was a final noticeable lift in the weight, despite the weariness in our bones. We were done – we were “us” again…and our next adventure awaited us in Germany.
Each time I read about this, I must admit, I feel a bit smug. “That doesn’t happen to Hubbz and I”, I think. I know it DOES happen. The concept itself is logical, and the incidence is real and discussed amongst my military spouse colleagues – but we, somehow, are immune to this. Our “countdown time” is tender and bittersweet. There are many more sad smiles across the table, when a group conversation turns to a concert or an event that we will miss spending together. There are far more hand squeezes and quiet hugs shared between us, when the realization of the time we’re about to spend apart strikes one of us in a fleeting thought. We are patient with each other as one rehashes for the umpteenth time, how to execute a task that the other usually takes care of. Doing so is acknowledging that this is an act of love and caretaking that must now be done through careful verbal instruction, instead of quietly and quickly behind the scenes, to keep our small family running at its current operating speed. We are lucky. We are blessed. We are strong….and I am smug….until it comes time to PCS.
Somehow, we are the anomaly. The stressors that the experts warn about are those that we quickly sail past – but the DAY that the orders show up for our next change of duty station, the couple on the cover of the romance novel is replaced by Mr. “Just Do It My Way, and Don’t Ask Questions” and Mrs. “Once Again, You are Doing It Wrong”. Hubbz and I are both “type A”, oldest siblings with a penchant for organizing things and people. As I’m sure you can quickly surmise, when it’s time to get things organized for a long-distance move, we both have a clear idea of what needs to be done, and in which order it should be executed…..and that creates a situation with two Chiefs with no tribe to boss around. Not exactly the recipe for harmonious teamwork.
This tension seems to peak just about the day before the packers arrive and then the acrimony seems to dissipate in major chunks as each truck drives off with more of our stuff inside. That last Friday, with our last shipment done, and our old house keys labeled on the kitchen counter in wait for the new tenants of our house – there was a final noticeable lift in the weight, despite the weariness in our bones. We were done – we were “us” again…and our next adventure awaited us in Germany.
Saturday, June 5, 2010
The Pack Out
I know that I am waaaaayyyy behind in documenting this process. I'm going to try to be diligent and report it all - and to do so in digestible pieces...but y'all know I can get a good head of steam when I'm trying to tell a story!!!
The pack out/move process was interesting at times, boring at others and somehow both exhilarating and exhausting. It was also TERRIBLE for a diet conscious couple (more on that later)...
Day 1 of a 4 Day process - this was a day for packing. Two folks from the moving company arrived, armed with boxes and tape and a ton of newsprint (which, we have learned, will haunt us when we get to the UN-packing part of the equation). This, the first day, was the day with the highest risk of confusion about what stuff will go in which shipment - so Hubz and I were vigilant and smiling and available at all times for clarification. On the night before, we made our best attempts to store everything that wasn't to be packed up into two closets and our office - thus giving us "no pack zones" in the house that the movers wouldn't even enter! It worked like a charm :)
Military lore dictates that you must feed and tip your movers to ensure careful handling and storage of your stuff. Hubz and I love an opportunity to be good hosts, so our packers and movers were greeted with doughnuts and coffee upon arrival. We filled the fridge with sodas and bottled water, and bought some single serving bags of chips for snacking. We encouraged the movers to help themselves. We also provided lunch each day. This is probably a little over the top - but we figure every little bit helps. The downside is that Hubz and I sat, mostly bored, surrounded by doughnuts and chips and sodas. Breaking up the boredom was the pizza, or hamburgers that the movers requested each day for lunch.... I can say with 100% certainty that the majority of chips, doughnuts and sodas were consumed by us each day....sigh...what can you do?!?
After the packers had bundled, boxed and numbered all of our stuff, a new crew showed up on Day 2 to pack it all up into a truck - which would take our items to a yard - where they would be placed in a crate - which will go into a big shipping crate (think a boxcar on a train) and placed on a huge cargo ship en route to our new home continent. Yes, folks, as I type this - 80% of our worldly possessions could be sinking to the bottom of the sea. It's a nice perspective to be able to look around this tiny hotel room where I sit in Germany, and realize that I have absolutely everything I need to live. :)
At the end of Day 2, Hubbz and I re-organized our "no packer zones". We pulled a few items out of the closets and office to be held over for the quick shipment, and made sure all of the luggage items would fit in our suitcases, and unpacked every box and china keeper so that each item about to be packed would get wrapping and cushioning by the professional hand (thus ensuring it was covered for full replacement value by the moving company's insurance).
By now, all of our linens, our shower curtain, our dishes and even our bed was out of our Norfolk home. This meant, it was time for us to pull up stakes and find a new place to sleep. The remainder of our Virginia lodging was provided by our dear friends, the Johnsons. Yet another fantastic friendship that Hubz made years ago, and I have gleefully climbed aboard his coat-tails to enjoy. The Johnsons provided us with the ability to end each day with a hot shower and a visit (and sometimes a beer) with friends, and to talk about our adventures in moving, and to laugh with their super-cute kiddos about what Sponge Bob did today. I can't think of a better way to wind up our long days.
By Day 3, we had moved into pack AND move days. Day 3 was "Storage Day" during which we said goodbye to items that would stay in storage in the US while we went overseas. (The cost of this is also covered by the Navy). All of our 110 volt appliances, my china and fancy stemware, and the majority of our holiday decorations made up the bulk of this pack out. By now, there was really little else to be done, and the day dragged. Hubbz went to work to tie up the loose ends from his job. I cleaned a few rooms, but really most of the rooms in our house still had random items in them for the movers (like, a dresser we deemed too big for German housing) or - had all of my china laid out across the floor... So, in the end, I spent many hours sitting on the floor of my almost empty bedroom and changing the address on our accounts online...(and eating chips and doughnuts....)
Waking up on Day 4 felt a little like Groundhog Day. We were tired but grateful that we had only one more day of moving left. We cleaned the house as we waited for the movers to pack our express shipment. We also dropped off my Honda for shipping to Germany. The Navy will pay for one car to be shipped overseas. We decided that the Explorer would be too big for European streets, so our plan is to ship one car and while we wait the 6-12 weeks for its arrival, to buy a "commuter car" on the cheap from a family leaving the base.
Day 4 was the day they packed up and moved our express shipment. The express shipment arrives in your new home country while you are still in temporary housing - usually 2-3 weeks after you have arrived. What to include in this delivery was the source of much head scratching for me....what could I possibly need in 2-3 weeks that I could live without upon arrival? By design, this package arrives and gives you the ability to live a bit more comfortably in your temporary base housing - and perhaps in your first week in a new place, as you bridge the time until your big household goods shipment arrives. As I understand it, some families include more toys for the kids, a few pots and pans for cooking in your kitchenette in temp housing and air mattresses and linens so you can sleep in your new empty house. However, Hubbz and I already knew that we'd be staying in a hotel in town when we arrived (no kitchenette) - and figured we'd wake up there on moving day - so the question of what to bring was puzzling.
Ultimately, our express shipment was pretty non-traditional. Hubbz pared down his uniforms and shipped a few of those. We included all of our dvd collection (my experience has been that tv in German hotels have very few, if any, English language channels), a laundry basket and some extra hangers to make the hotel living a little easier, and lots of books. We also included my printer - which happened to be dual voltage and would allow me to work more affordably from our hotel room.
The end of Day 4 (which was the Friday before Memorial Day Weekend) found us tired, homeless and down to one car - which was for sale. It was a little eerie, a little freeing - and it felt like progress!!!
The pack out/move process was interesting at times, boring at others and somehow both exhilarating and exhausting. It was also TERRIBLE for a diet conscious couple (more on that later)...
Day 1 of a 4 Day process - this was a day for packing. Two folks from the moving company arrived, armed with boxes and tape and a ton of newsprint (which, we have learned, will haunt us when we get to the UN-packing part of the equation). This, the first day, was the day with the highest risk of confusion about what stuff will go in which shipment - so Hubz and I were vigilant and smiling and available at all times for clarification. On the night before, we made our best attempts to store everything that wasn't to be packed up into two closets and our office - thus giving us "no pack zones" in the house that the movers wouldn't even enter! It worked like a charm :)
Military lore dictates that you must feed and tip your movers to ensure careful handling and storage of your stuff. Hubz and I love an opportunity to be good hosts, so our packers and movers were greeted with doughnuts and coffee upon arrival. We filled the fridge with sodas and bottled water, and bought some single serving bags of chips for snacking. We encouraged the movers to help themselves. We also provided lunch each day. This is probably a little over the top - but we figure every little bit helps. The downside is that Hubz and I sat, mostly bored, surrounded by doughnuts and chips and sodas. Breaking up the boredom was the pizza, or hamburgers that the movers requested each day for lunch.... I can say with 100% certainty that the majority of chips, doughnuts and sodas were consumed by us each day....sigh...what can you do?!?
After the packers had bundled, boxed and numbered all of our stuff, a new crew showed up on Day 2 to pack it all up into a truck - which would take our items to a yard - where they would be placed in a crate - which will go into a big shipping crate (think a boxcar on a train) and placed on a huge cargo ship en route to our new home continent. Yes, folks, as I type this - 80% of our worldly possessions could be sinking to the bottom of the sea. It's a nice perspective to be able to look around this tiny hotel room where I sit in Germany, and realize that I have absolutely everything I need to live. :)
At the end of Day 2, Hubbz and I re-organized our "no packer zones". We pulled a few items out of the closets and office to be held over for the quick shipment, and made sure all of the luggage items would fit in our suitcases, and unpacked every box and china keeper so that each item about to be packed would get wrapping and cushioning by the professional hand (thus ensuring it was covered for full replacement value by the moving company's insurance).
By now, all of our linens, our shower curtain, our dishes and even our bed was out of our Norfolk home. This meant, it was time for us to pull up stakes and find a new place to sleep. The remainder of our Virginia lodging was provided by our dear friends, the Johnsons. Yet another fantastic friendship that Hubz made years ago, and I have gleefully climbed aboard his coat-tails to enjoy. The Johnsons provided us with the ability to end each day with a hot shower and a visit (and sometimes a beer) with friends, and to talk about our adventures in moving, and to laugh with their super-cute kiddos about what Sponge Bob did today. I can't think of a better way to wind up our long days.
By Day 3, we had moved into pack AND move days. Day 3 was "Storage Day" during which we said goodbye to items that would stay in storage in the US while we went overseas. (The cost of this is also covered by the Navy). All of our 110 volt appliances, my china and fancy stemware, and the majority of our holiday decorations made up the bulk of this pack out. By now, there was really little else to be done, and the day dragged. Hubbz went to work to tie up the loose ends from his job. I cleaned a few rooms, but really most of the rooms in our house still had random items in them for the movers (like, a dresser we deemed too big for German housing) or - had all of my china laid out across the floor... So, in the end, I spent many hours sitting on the floor of my almost empty bedroom and changing the address on our accounts online...(and eating chips and doughnuts....)
Waking up on Day 4 felt a little like Groundhog Day. We were tired but grateful that we had only one more day of moving left. We cleaned the house as we waited for the movers to pack our express shipment. We also dropped off my Honda for shipping to Germany. The Navy will pay for one car to be shipped overseas. We decided that the Explorer would be too big for European streets, so our plan is to ship one car and while we wait the 6-12 weeks for its arrival, to buy a "commuter car" on the cheap from a family leaving the base.
Day 4 was the day they packed up and moved our express shipment. The express shipment arrives in your new home country while you are still in temporary housing - usually 2-3 weeks after you have arrived. What to include in this delivery was the source of much head scratching for me....what could I possibly need in 2-3 weeks that I could live without upon arrival? By design, this package arrives and gives you the ability to live a bit more comfortably in your temporary base housing - and perhaps in your first week in a new place, as you bridge the time until your big household goods shipment arrives. As I understand it, some families include more toys for the kids, a few pots and pans for cooking in your kitchenette in temp housing and air mattresses and linens so you can sleep in your new empty house. However, Hubbz and I already knew that we'd be staying in a hotel in town when we arrived (no kitchenette) - and figured we'd wake up there on moving day - so the question of what to bring was puzzling.
Ultimately, our express shipment was pretty non-traditional. Hubbz pared down his uniforms and shipped a few of those. We included all of our dvd collection (my experience has been that tv in German hotels have very few, if any, English language channels), a laundry basket and some extra hangers to make the hotel living a little easier, and lots of books. We also included my printer - which happened to be dual voltage and would allow me to work more affordably from our hotel room.
The end of Day 4 (which was the Friday before Memorial Day Weekend) found us tired, homeless and down to one car - which was for sale. It was a little eerie, a little freeing - and it felt like progress!!!
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