Oral Pleasure and Expatriate Satisfaction
Oh, come on: we’re all adults here…
This is the title of an article by Jean-Claude Usunier, appearing in the 
International Business Review, 1998 (7:89-110). He hypothesizes that "expatriates experience a loss of oral pleasure related to the absence of their native language and eating and drinking habits in the host country, and that this affects their overall satisfaction with the expatriate experience."
The author, a professor of marketing and international business at the Universite Louis-Pasteur, studied a sample of American expatriate managers in France: 74 men and 35 women, with an average age of 46 (range 22-76). The raw data published in the article has lots of interesting correlations among his studied variables: expatriate women tend to be younger than men, and are more likely to be single and to have a French spouse. Older expatriates in general are more likely to arrive with their families and to stay longer.
The major factors determining length of stay (taken as a measure of "expatriate success") are being married to a foreign spouse (0.560), being comfortable with the language (0.675), and being happy with the food (0.316). Unsurprisingly, personal satisfaction was correlated with overall family satisfaction (0.481), and those married to a foreigner were more likely to learn the language (0.621) and to adopt the food (0.395). Gender, age, presence of a family, and individual satisfaction were uncorrelated with expatriate success.
Factor analysis (a statistical method for determining the strongest independent predictors of outcomes) reinforced the link between three key drivers (Marriage to a foreigner, Language fluency, and Satisfaction with local food) of the study’s three outcomes (Personal satisfaction, Family satisfaction, and Length of stay). The author concludes that "the issue of oral pleasure deficiencies certainly exists, and clearly persists over time, but on average it is most often overcome by positive oral pleasure drawn from life in the host country."
I agree to the extent that my evolving fluency is letting me participate more completely and independently in life here (although people are also increasingly less prone to use English with me, too). But I’m less certain that the lack of snack crackers and bakery mixes has a significant impact on my happiness.
But, I’d rate "open-mindedness", "having local friends", and "becoming progressively less dependent on home country resources" as more significant drivers of my overall adjustment.
Nonetheless, it’s interesting data to reflect on, and it does have a cute title to whip out at parties…
Photo credit www.kitmax.com
Visiting Haarlem
The rain and cold returned to Arnhem, so I drove to the coast yesterday seeking a bit of sun and scenery. On the recommendation of our finance director, I aimed towards Haarlem, the capital of North Holland. I didn’t have time to see the museums, but really enjoyed a few hours wandering the town center and the many canals. Like Delft, I can see that this will be a wonderful spot when the weather warms up and the trees come out.
The city is arranged along the winding river Spaarne: I spent time walking each bank in turn to get a sense of the community. The many homes that line the canals seem to belong to artists and professionals, and the glimpses into studios and studys were the best part of the walk. I like the whole idea of having a creative space in my house (my art supplies are in a sunny upstairs bedroom with a good view of the street and the park). These homes had modern works on the walls, overflowing shelves of books and works in stages of completion, and stained tables with supplies at hand. Only the artists were missing (although I’m sure I could have attracted a few if I’d stopped to take pictures).
The large St. Bavo church is really worth the two euro entry fee (the entry is tucked along the side of the church amidst some shops). The main sanctuary seems to me to have a nautical theme: the wonderful ceiling vaults are made of wood planking, and three ships sail silently above the nave. The Christiaan Muller organ is also amazing.
I wanted to make it to the ocean, having come this far, and took a drive out to Zondvoort. It was dusk when I got there, but the hummocks of the dunes, a wilderness of their own, were inviting and I really want to go back and walk the trails there. The streets out to Zondvoort feature a long stretch of very un-Dutch-like mansions that would put a lot of McMansions in the US to shame. Judging by the cars in the driveways and the prices listed in the nearby realty office windows, these must be where the real power brokers of the Netherlands live.
…and when they're grown
When your children are little, you’ll think that they will change the world; by the time they turn twenty, you are simply glad that they aren’t in jail.
A research nurse gave me that advice when my family was young, and events this week led me back to reflect on the difficulty of raising grown children. My son is a delightful rogue: smart and personable, strong-willed and sharp-tongued. He also seems completely unable to find his path in life towards becoming a happy, successful, independent adult.
We struggled with him as he came up through school: he was the oldest so it was our first time through as parents. He bounced in and out of advanced programs that teachers recommended. Between 15 and 17, he ran the table of sex, drugs, smoking, drinking, and staying out all night in sequences of three months each, then thankfully left each behind. Somehow, he did great on his college entrance exams and was admitted to an east coast university. We thought we’d finished launching him, but he bounced back home after two quarters.
He said that he didn’t see the relevance: kids study and party and, at the end of it, they’re no further ahead than if they’d worked instead. So he took a job loading trucks for UPS from 10 pm to 4 am, dabbling with occasional community college classes. The union position provides great benefits but little pay; he earns half what he needs to live on his own. He sleeps all day, playing online games and watching manga as a substitute social life, to my wife’s direct frustration back in Seattle.
As he approaches 21, it has to change. My wife and I have struggled with whether we are supporting or enabling, and our lives feel stuck because of our inability to get past his. I’m worried that, legally, alcohol could re-enter the picture. It came to a head over Christmas with an ultimatum that he had to choose, left or right, full-time school or full-time work, and move ahead with life and move on from home.
As the kids grew up, we told them (and ourselves) that they could become anything that they wanted to be, and we were careful not to answer the question for them. But I don’t think that I ever allowed for the possibility that he wouldn’t want to be anything. I never gave up believing that the right answer was always to love and support him. I still haven’t.
He called this week to say that he was pressing his suit, buffing the resume, and headed to Boeing to see if he could become a machinist. Sure, I swallow hard and wish him luck. But, after 21 years, his opportunities finally exhausted, my marriage crumbling, I’m really feeling tired and defeated. So I called my friend, the research nurse in Tucson, and we had a good talk about raising kids and about letting go, about love and independence. It’s still going to be hard to come to terms with, but it did help to put things into perspective and make it all feel a little less lonely.
Happy "Day to Read"
A quiet day on the blog while I take advantage of today’s designation as a “Day to Read”, being promoted by a number of sites. And, just in case you find yourself without something to read, I’ll add a link for the day to Amanda’s latest post about “what to do if you’re traveling too much”.
“Where luxury once meant chandeliers, champagne, and staff on tap, it now means privacy, independence, and chocolate-covered strawberries.”
There is a category of magazines that deals with aspirational lifestyles: once described as being “dedicated to clothes you’ll never wear, people you’ll never meet, cars you’ll never drive, and parties you’ll never be invited to.” In general, I don’t give them a second thought.
I do, however, have a weakness for the Aspirational Travel Mag.
Conde Nast, Travel and Leisure, the Sunday Times Travel (the quote above is theirs) are my favorite bits of fluff to curl up with on a long flight. Further down my list come CNN Traveler, National Geographic Travel, and Frommers (although I swear by their guidebooks). And no, sorry, I’ve never warmed to Rick Steves like so many Americans (even though he’s a fellow Seattle-ite).
The fun of these aspirational magazines is that they are filled with completely accessible aspriations. It’s not hard to imagine standing where they’ve taken a picture, staying in a recommended hotel, or enjoying one of their idyllic meals. I usually come back with several torn-out pages in my shoulder bag that I use to help me remember towns to visit, or to find some out-of-the way spot that would make a great getaway. While most have online versions, I much prefer the big glossy pages, filled with pictures of clear blue seas and deep green forest.
As the Times says, “Be informed. Be inspired. Be there.”
Mysterious Dutch light
At this time of year, daylight in the Netherlands arrives late and ends early. Sunrise begins after 8 am, sunset concludes before 4, and the sun stays low most of the day. On occasional clear mornings and late afternoons, the light paints the landscape with a distinct yellow cast. My camera doesn’t show it well, unfortunately, but mjmourik has done a great job of capturing "Mysterious Dutch Light" in his Flickr photos. The grass, trees, buildings all take on a sort of mustard yellow tint ("Gamboge yellow", we called it in watercolor class), further highlighted by contrast with the flat robin’s egg blue of the sky.
I was reflecting on this effect of Dutch Light while checking the dates for the huge European Art Fair (Tefaf) in Maastricht (March 8-16). The Fair an expensive but worthwhile event, filled with classic and modern works exchanging between private patrons that you’ll never see again in public galleries.
Last year, I wandered the many galleries of Dutch master paintings, and noted that they all seemed suffused with the same yellow light. As an example, a painting by Aelbert Cuyp (above, right), a 17th century artist known for early morning and late afternoon landscapes of the Dutch countryside. Again, Jan Both (below, left), an Utrecht painter of the same period who painted peasants and travelers in golden Dutch light.
So it’s not just a haze in my post-holiday head. Of course, the golden tone might be just be caused by aging of the varnish, but, looking out over the winter landscape, I still think that I see the essential Dutch light that was captured over the centuries in these works. The scientist in me wonders what is released from the ground (bogs?) to diffuse the light in this way: it seems to cling low to the horizon and to be stimulated by sunlight. However, the nascent artist in me is, this morning, content to just enjoy the effect (fleeting, though: the typically grey Dutch clouds have now raced in from the west to cover the sky…)
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Note added: It turns out that a movie was made about this phenomenon: The website blurb is certainly provocative:
"There’s an ancient myth that the light in Holland is different from anywhere else, but it has never been put to the test.
It’s the legendary light we see in paintings. The German artist Joseph Beuys, however, says that it lost its unique radiance in the 1950s, bringing an end to a visual culture that had lasted for centuries. Dutch Light breaks new ground by examining this renowned but elusive phenomenon. What is Dutch light? Is the light in Holland really different from that in other parts of the world? What is true, what is myth, what is fiction? And was Joseph Beuys right? Dutch Light addresses these fascinating questions. And it is an ode to light and to observation. It turns looking into a new experience."