Expat in Waiting - Part One

To Russia With Love

I suppose that you could say the writing was on the wall regarding my becoming an expat. I'm married to one, for goodness' sake, how on earth could I imagine that I wouldn't at some point become one myself? And to tell the truth, I had always thought that I would quite like the opportunity. You know; foreign travel, somewhere warm, preferably with ‘help' on tap like all our friends in exotic far-flung locations seem to have. Hot and cold running nannies, a driver to take you to the supermarket, a maid in the kitchen cupboard, what's not to like?

So I should be completely relaxed with the whole expat concept, especially since living in central London we're surrounded by them. Quite often I'm the only Brit in the nursery playground at pick-up time, and I can't count the number of dinner parties and children's birthdays where I've been the only English person there apart from the staff.

But whilst I always talked a good game - ‘yes, I would love to do it, how exciting, what an opportunity!' -  when it came right down to it, I never actually thought that I would have to do it. Me, the quintessential English woman, the London-aholic, leave Blighty? Don't be ridiculous, my good man!

However, things change. We got severely crunched in the credit crisis and my husband's job in the City evaporated. Suddenly London life wasn't looking so rosy any more, and he was forced to look elsewhere for work. He's always had an interest in Russia; when we first met he was on his way to a job in Moscow which lasted for four years (long-distance relationships ‘r'us), so that is where he started contracting a few months later.

To begin with, I buried my head in the sand. Something would come up in London sooner or later; the children and I could stay put whilst he worked away; it was only a temporary situation. Eventually though it became clear that ‘temporary' was becoming long-term and if our family was to remain healthy, something would have to give - namely, our comfortable central London lifestyle.

I railed against it a bit, I have to admit. I went through something of a grieving process, actually; it turned out that all those fine words I had spouted in the past about being happy to try life elsewhere were in fact just that; words. When it came right down to it I didn't want to leave my comfortable familiar life, my family, or my friends. Hell, I was just starting to get back on my feet after having the children, just starting to redefine myself in my own mind as a worthwhile person without the interesting job that I'd done for so many years, just beginning - finally - to feel comfortable in my skin again. 

But, when you gotta go, you gotta go. And whilst we're not heading for quite the balmy-evening'd cocktail-swigging outdoorsy life-style I'd always imagined an expat existence would entail, it's actually quite exciting. I may not be as crazy about Russia as my husband is, but I've visited a few times over the years, and Moscow is a vibrant lively city. It will be a two year adventure (for yes, I have put a strict time-limit on this escapade) which our family will never forget, and will give us a view into a life so very different from the one we lead now.

And whilst I start to make all the arrangements and negotiate with moving companies and estate agents, I'm going to ignore that little voice at the back of my head telling me that my husband has engineered this move simply to get me to do the two things I have always said I would never do:  Drive a 4x4 and wear fur.