A big 20 year anniversary today

2005 : a year of change

Today marks the $20^{th}$ year of my move to France.

It feels so far and so close at the same (yes be ready for a lot of clichés like that). I think that is true of aging in general, as my revolutions around Helios pile up there are more and more moments of such realisation. All the more with the cyclical nature of a teacher’s job, counting in school years and generations of kids.

Still, 20 years is a landmark. Who’d have thought that with the moving around in my life and immigrations and emigrations that France would be where I’d end up spending the bulk of my adult life (and gladly so).

Nevertheless, when the decision was taken in Feb-2004 to move here with who would - before long - become my ex-wife it was a bold choice. It was bold but needed. I felt in such a rut, and so stuck in place while all those of peers for whom I cared the most were moving on. And then I did something I have - sadly - rarely done in my life : I took a risk. Maybe not that big of a risk but to me it certianly was. Moving to anohter continent, to a country where I didnt speak the language, where I didnt know the ways, where I would be utterly dependent on someone else for standing on my own two feet, and aiming for a job that required the mastery of french more than any other carrier I could have tried for.

I think acutally not knowing the difficulties ahead and not having the slightest idea of how difficult a lot of what I would be trying was a blessing, that prevented me from blanching and pulling away before I start.

2006 : a year of growth and a turning point

I had nevertheless underestimated the weight and burden that such a radical change woudl introduce into my life, especially into the that newly-minted marital life. Within one month of spending every hour in social settings where I understand barely a few words here and there I was frustrated and tired. As a professional talker it was so frustrating not being able to express even the simplest of ideas. And then the actual work started, 35 hours of courses and lectures a week in preparation for the 12 hours of written exmas to qualify for teaching physics.

I have no desire to go into the details other than summarising the latter half and first half of 2006 as everything going as bad as it could personally/relatinshipwise and as well as it could professionally.

Deciding to seperate on the very day of our one year anniversary was almost the lowest point that year, but not quite.

Succeeding the written exams and havig to pass two oral exams 9 months after my arrival in France and having to learn the langauge were a mix of merit and luck.

I will always remember the 19th of July 2006, not for it being the one year anniversary of my having arrived, but for the palpitations I was feeling as I awaited the results; it felt like a turning point. For months I’d been wondering what I would do if I failed the exam - a prospect that was looming larger adn larger like headlights in the dark.

Staying would not be an option, without a job, I would have neither financial security nor administrative rights. But going back was an even worse option. It felt like it would mean utter failure, going back to the place I’d sought to escape in order to finally make something of myself. It felt like it would be death.

And so I remember the power of my heart pounding in my chest as I looked up the list of the admitted (a pounding of such force I’ve known only on a couple of other occasions in my life). And my heart sank as I looked at the bottom of the webpage and did not see my name , but only for a moment as I realised there was a second page. I click, and there it was. My name was there.

I’ve rarely felt that sensation of lightness, of coming back to life, of feeling like everthing is going to be alright.

§ § §

And the rest is history … more or less. I actually started working as a teacher by sept 2006, and the escapades that followed have been document elsewhere, all fondly. I grew accustomed to living on my own for the first time at the ripe old age of 27, having to be responsible for myself, in every sense. In short I grew up.

With time I came to think of that year of boulversement that 2005-06 as one of the greatest things that could happen to me, because for the first time in a long time I learned to have confidence in myself, with the belief and feeling that I could henceforth land on my feet anywhere regardless of all factors. It was something I’d not felt before, and there was something intoxicating about it.

Every single day proved to me that I had made the right career choice as I revelled in the time I spent in a classroom with the kids, something that hasn’t changed in the 19 years hence.

2018 : a year of unchange

And so the years have gone on, settling into adult and professional life. Ups and down were had, but by almost any metric one can consider there was no reason to complain, and thus also no reason to change.

2018 started to loom. The singificance of which was only clear to me. I’d spent the first 13 years of my life in Iran, and then the next 13 had been spent in Canada. The final 13 had been in France, and it felt like the question was worth asking : where now? I felt no reason or compulsion to force an unmotivated change. Change for the sake of change … I couldnt justify it to myself. I was in a relationship that I was happy with. I was living in a country that I was happy with and felt mostly alinged with the style of life I wished to lead. I loved my job.

§§§

Every year I come back to Canada I meet with the same friends and I always get asked the same question “So you coming back or staying?”. I would even refer to my yearly trip to Canada - ironically enough - as going back home. But that changed for me after 3 or 4 years. The question coming from others however did not. I found it more and more ridiculous getting asked that once I’d been living in France for 5 .. 8…10….12 years, but apparently to some it was still a valid question.

§§§

The persian word for ostrich is shotormorgh which literally translates to “camel-bird”. It is what I am (and it is what most people in a diaspora are). I’m a caml-bird, because I’m neither a camel, nor a bird, but both at the same time. I’m never going to be Iranian enough to my compatriots, nor ever canadian enough to canadian and never french enough to the french and yet all those at the same time and more.

20 years… wow! Here is to 20 more at least.

Featured Photo A smiling face in a hedge, at the Botanical Gardens in Geneva switzerland in 2010.

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