They call my son a 'Salty'

Well it's been 2 years since we arrived from the UK to South Africa. Don't get me wrong I absolutly LOVE South Africa and wouldn't change living here for the world.

It's not SA that's caused the problems, it's the lack of support from a company my Husband has been employed with for 27 years. I've read many experiences from other 'trailing spouse' expats around the world and they've all experienced similar things, commonly that of isolation, lonliness, depression. That has been what's helped me and is moving me forward.

So a lot of thinking has been done over the past few weeks, alot of reflection and moving on, but not forgiveness.

I've moved on in many ways, measured by my achievements, not only was it a difficult process to close down the UK side of things, tenants, bank accounts, change of address, organising shipping etc, it was a million times more difficult to open up SA alone, in a foreign country, not knowing how anything works, where to go, what to do? Do we need TV licences? Is there car tax? what about MOT's etc?

You see I'm British born and raisied and I only know the British way of doing things.....or do I?

I think I've arrived now, understand how things work, have renewed policies, had daily dramas such as emergency ER trips and just got on with normal life, shopping, dental check ups, school runs.

But yesterday I realised I'm actually in 'no mans land' Last week I asked if cheque books were still in use in the UK, many understood and knew that I'd been out of the UK for 2 years and answered, but a few were quite scathing in their reply, almost taking the piss 'ooohhh don't you know?'

I also had to ask about family allowance (I gave mine up when we left). I no longer know or care about the exchange rate, we are paid in local currency and as long as the UK tenants rent covers our actual outgoings it's not a problem.

But I'm still getting confused. I arranged to meet Hubby in Cafe Nero, he was there on time at Mugg and Bean and he didn't even cotton on that I'd mixed the two coffee chains up. I asked the kids to SKY + a programme for me and all hell broke out....'sky + ha ha ha ha ha don't you mean DSTV'? (annoying little brats) I popped out to Morrisons to do the food shop and hubby said 'that was quick' I'd actually been to Pick n Pay. On my last trip to the UK I sat at the fuel station for almost 5 minutes before I remembered I had to fill my own car, pack my own bags in the supermarkets and actually have to reverse out of a car park space without assistance.

There's lots about SA I don't like and could do without, mainly people's inabilities to make firm arrangements and answer queries within any sort of time scale, but I don't miss dirty public toilets, the over crowding, rudeness and agression that I so often witnessed in the UK...but I do miss the snow.

So why do they call my son a 'Salty?'

He has one foot in each Contienent and his Balls are dangling in the sea.

How to spot an expat?

We are the ones in Pick and Pay that yell 'kids they sell hula hoops' that stockpile the Dr Pepper from the Spar.

We get family and friends to post over home comforts and we tweet in despair when we run out of tea.

All gifts sent home are souvenirs. Parents houses are full of 'local' tea towels.

We exclaim 'how much?' at all the cadbury chocolate and verge on becoming alcoholics at the low price of spirits and wines.

What I don’t notice now

Everything is starting to merge. The TV jingles are so familiar now I sing or hum along with them and hippo.co.za South Africans version of go compare really gets on my nerves. I listen to Highveld 94.7 on the radio and sing along, I listen to the traffic reports and don’t wonder anymore why the lights are always out at Bryanston and know where they are talking about when they say there’s been an accident near the Olifantsfontein Road.
I now know where I can buy everything I want/need, finances permitting of course. The local Spar shop sells Dr Pepper, Rowntrees fruit pastels and gums. And PicknPay sell Hula Hoops. In a Cadburys taste test between SA and UK the local chocolate won hands down.
I’m still finding the weather a little strange, it seems that Spring started on September 1st and summer the following day, its rained twice since June 2nd, the temperature is in the high 20s in the day and around 15c at night, the winter took us by surprise, never thought it got cold enough to burst the water pipes.
I’ve stopped pointing out large numbers of people shoved in the back of buckies, speeding along the N1, but was alarmed to see a small child sitting in the back of one the other day.

The crowded trains with people hanging off the side no longer draw my attention, but the sight of kids walking along the railway line on their way home from school was a little alarming.

I still smile when I see the Johannesburg sign on my way home from collecting the kids to school, and as I drive towards Johannesburg I still love seeing the skyline.

Say football, mobile, text and sat nav despite it being soccer, cell, sms and GPS, but I get by, it’s definitely Braai and not BBQ and I still get a bit confused at the ‘circles’ (roundabouts) as to whose right of way it is, no ones.

Am I being too fussy?

Thank you Pick n Pay for contacting me about the issue below. Because you cared, because you phoned, because you addressed my concerns, because you asked my opinion I continue to shop with you.

I don't think so and I don't think many of you will either.

I shop in Pick n Pay, a large South African supermarket chain, there's not alot of competition.

Whenever I shop I take my own bags which seems to throw the staff (recycling isn't like the UK here) and everytime I have to ask them to put the raw meet in a seperate bag and everytime I greeted with a look of Why?

I have no say in my bags being packed, it's a service all the supermarkets provide. I'd rather have the trolley unloaded and do my own packing, but hey, that's just me.

So today rather than ask/argue/takwe the bag and do it myself, I requested the shopping was put into the trolley and I'd pack in the car.

So carefully lifting out the heavier items, coke, wine, tins, to go first of the belt, followed by the crisps after the veg, I thought I'm onto something here.

The heavier items are replaced after scanning into the bottom of the trolley and the lighter stuff is put on top.

Then using a paper tissue I picked up the meat, which was leaking, it always leaks, placed it on the belt, handed over a plastic bag and requested she put the meat straight into the bag as it was leaking.

Simple task? NOT

the meat is slid down the belt, handeled, passed to the bag packer who to my horror placed it on top of the trolley, on the cakes and the bananas. Quickly I snatched it, shoved it into the plastic bag and asked her to get some more cakes and banans, not contaminated with raw meat.

'WHY?'

Food poisioning.

As I left the shop, the counter wasn't wiped, I told the woman behind me in the queue there was raw meat on the conveyor belt, she shrugged.

And so my battle continues.