*Ping* 

A message comes through on my phone, and without even checking to see who it is, I can pretty much narrow down who has sent it. My friends here in Indonesia were all accounted for, everyone in Canada was sleeping, it had to be one of the girls in France.

Sure enough it was my American friend who lives in the South of France, having a crêpe crisis.

How do I bring crêpes to a French event? Leave them flat? Fold them into triangles? With sugar, or without?

I knew exactly what was going on.  Her kids go to an International School, where almost everyone is from ‘away’. The moms and kids don’t worry as much about being different there, because everyone is different.  But her kids do all of their after school activities and sports in the French community, where they then become the ‘foreign’ family.

Sure enough, after a few texts I found out she was in charge of bringing crêpes to her son’s basketball tournament and she wanted to get it right; not only for her kid’s sake, but also her own. I know from personal experience, it’s not only kids that want to fit in during new, or slightly awkward situations.

My friend knew that since my kids go to French school, my learning curve has felt like climbing Everest at times, and I’ve been the odd-mom-out more than once. Side note: When your child is invited to their French classmate’s ‘Cowboys and Indians’ party(yes, they actually have those), girls are NEVER to take the role of the cowboy-even if they have a cute denim dress with braided pigtails and they look like they’re ready for the Calgary Stampede. Girls are ALWAYS Indians, dressed like Pocahontas, and boys are ALWAYS Cowboys. Guess how I found out! But I digress. Now that my daughter is in her second year of French school, I have already made all the rookie mistakes and I’m starting to find my way with the French mamans.

Lucky for my friend, I knew the answer to her crêpe crisis, and her son wouldn’t have to be the kid whose mom didn’t know how to make crêpes.

I sent her back a life-saving text:

There was a bake sale at school today. The French moms had them pre-folded into triangles, and I’ve seen them done like that before. That’s the way to go.

And in that moment, I beamed with pride for my friend, knowing she was going to rock up at that basketball tournament, with her broken french, feeling slightly intimidated, but at least she knew she had the crêpes right. In my books she got points for just being there. She was leading her expat kids by example. New situations can be just as scary for parents as it can be for kids. It would have been easier to just keep her kids in the International School activities, where everyone speaks English; but she was getting her family involved in the local community and for that, I couldn’t be more proud of her.

Women like this always impress me. I want to surround myself with these types of ladies because they remind me to keep putting myself out there, and pushing the edge of my comfort zone.

Before I arrived in Indonesia I knew my situation would be a bit unique because my husband works for a French company; so essentially, we would be living in a community that was like little France, but in Borneo, Indonesia. I wasn’t quiet sure what that was going to look like.

I arrived at our new Indonesian community, greeted by a melting pot of international women that impressed me more than I expected. Living in France, my friends were mainly English speakers, all trying to learn French.  But here, it was a different situation. Russian women were speaking French, French women were speaking Indonesian, and Latino women were speaking English. Was it perfect? Not always. But you learn to stop judging once you’ve tried to do it yourself. It was unique, it was impressive, and it was all happening within 3 neighbourhood houses of our new home.

While expat husbands are at work, wives are out there, pounding the pavement of foreign countries, blazing the way, and learning the ropes on behalf of their families. Sometimes it can be glamorous; the pavement might be made of beautiful cobblestone or freshly laid asphalt. But other times that pavement might be solely made up of potholes and dirt roads.  Whatever the case-they’re always out there, exploring.

These women of the world casually begin sentences with phrases like, “When we were living in Libya/Oman/Malaysia/Nigeria/….” Some have stories that will make your hair stand on end. Expat women recreate their lives in new places, making new friends, settling in, and then often, moving again.

These women impress me.

These women fascinate me.

These women continually find their way though difficult situations, normalising them for the sake of their families. Whether they’re learning a language, re-learning to drive(manual, or on the other side of the road), meeting new people, or simply trying to figure out where to buy food in their new country. Every time you push yourself, you become stronger. Packing up everything you own, putting your family on a plane and moving to a new country, not knowing what to expect- that takes courage. New countries, new continents, new languages, new cultures: these women are constantly facing challenges, learning, adapting, growing, evolving.

Imagine how strong they are.

These are women I’m happy to know. These are women I’m proud to call my friends.