postcard 26: six months later.

half a year as expats

When we duck into Foto Boris’ tiny shop, it takes my eyes a moment to adjust to the dark, smoky interior. The old man behind the counter holds a lit cigarette in one hand and tells us he doesn’t speak English. Then, in English, he asks us if our film is black and white or color, if we want prints or scans. Finally he calls “Boris!” into the backroom. I’d been imagining this man (Boris, presumably) had been here in this little shop developing film since the Cold War but the real Boris, a young guy who speaks perfect English, comes out and charges us $5 to develop and scan our photos. We get them in an hour.

Six months of Europe on 35mm

At the market the goat cheese stand is open again and there’s ruby red strawberries and wild asparagus and a table overflowing with bread and cherry streudels. The restaurant along the sea that we’ve been impatiently walking by every day for months has finally opened its doors. The city is out of hibernation. We stop in on a Monday and decide to become regulars, drinking our cappuccinos (me) and bijela kavas (latte adjacent, him) on the terrace overlooking the turquoise sea.

One warm afternoon we walk downtown, just the two of us. It’s silly that it feels like a date because our giant, smelly puppy is at home and not at our sides, but it does. We’re the only people at the recently opened olive oil museum and we listen to an audio tour on the history, making and certifying of olive oil. Afterwards, the museum’s sole employee sits us down in a tasting room that feels like a lab and walks us through how to taste olive oil with a PowerPoint presentation. It’s nerdy, but we're so into it. Some of our friends are whiskey people, some are coffee nerds, my parents can spout off wine tasting notes, but we’re going to be olive oil snobs, we decide. That’s our thing now.

And what a place to fall in love with the liquid gold. Our state of Istria consistently wins awards for the world’s best olive oil. Every drive is through olive groves and there must be more family farms than grocery stores. We’ve fallen in love with the distinctly spicy varieties here, Topher especially. At any given time we have 3-4 different bottles in the pantry and drizzle it on everything. As we’re guided through the different tastings we learn to identify the grocery store crap that’s mislabeled as extra virgin. At the end, she brings out fresh cow cheese, honey and figs that we drown in our favorite oil. Of course, we bring home another bottle for our collection.

It’s the kind of day where the hours slip away as we post up on the beach, poking at snails and searching for shells. Hazelnut splashes in and out of the calm water, trying desperately to convince Topher to get in with her. When he refuses, she soaks him anyways. A snorkeler passes us and she hides behind our legs, woofing, convinced it’s a sea monster. We make sandwiches and eat the batch of cookies we baked last night.

This week marks six months of us living here in Croatia. Six months of learning to love an unfamiliar and sometimes prickly place. Six months of Airbnbs and rental cars, scorpions and ceiling cats, bureaucratic visits and grocery store trips, rambles and seaside walks. We’ve visited six countries, hiked in the Alps and skiied on glaciers, been chased by angry cows and spotted dolphins, had coffee on ancient city walls and eaten fondue in wood-beamed basements. It’s been one of the most challenging experiences we’ve ever had, but also one of the most magical. I’m so grateful that we took the plunge and did the damn thing, even on the hard days. I am living the life I dreamed of.

In celebration and reflection, here are six lessons I’ve learned in our half year as expats:

1. Embrace being a tourist in your own city - I’m always tempted to save our money/time/energy for far flung adventures, but we’ve been consciously focusing on exploring everything our little corner of Croatia has to offer and it's made me realize how important this is wherever you live. Go to that little museum! Go out for coffee and lunch and ice cream!

2. Human interaction is necessary - I’m an introvert and especially in a new setting I gravitate towards being alone. But I’ve come to recognize how important it is to seek out people, especially when it’s hard to even chat with the clerk at the grocery store. I particularly cherish my family group chat, the random things my sister texts me every day and my colleague who calls me Monday through Friday at 7am on the dot his time whether or not there’s anything work related to catch up on.

3. Things aren’t as complicated as they seem - I was so stressed about getting our visas and figuring out housing and a car and all the mechanics of life over here and while all those things were time consuming, they didn’t end up being as life or death as I thought they would. Most people are kind and understanding and if you try your hardest, nobody cares, even if you screw up.

4. Actively tend to your relationship - This experience has challenged Topher and I in ways we've never faced before. We’ve had to actively choose to work on us this year and it’s made us stronger than ever.

5. Be your own source of comfort - figuring how to deal with stress and overwhelm without any of my normal comforts (my people, my home, familiarity, delivery Chinese food) and not dumping that all on Topher who is experiencing the same things has been a steep learning curve. Shout out to Hazelnut, for being a real life stuffed animal. Figuring out how to be my own strength has been enlightening.

6. Just do it - if you don’t do it this year, you’re going to be one year older when you do (Warren Miller). It’s not going to turn out the way you think it will. It’s going to be hard and scary and probably certainly terrible at times. But if you’re dreaming of it, it’s worth it. You’ll never regret chasing your dreams. You are stronger than you think. You can do it.

I know the next question on your mind is, what’s next? And the answer? I really haven’t the slightest idea.

-Mikaela