“So are you staying or going?” It’s a seasonal question, one that pops up each year. If you have walked the expat trail you may recognize the familiar routine. As spring gives way to summer we stop initiating conversations about the air quality and traffic and become curious about who is leaving their posting. It seems this year there are moves afoot everywhere I look. Friends that I’ve come to rely on, those with which there’s the ease of the drop in call, the last minute plans. The unavoidable truth that friends will come and go is all part of the expat routine. This past weekend I attended the first of the departure season leaving parties.

The departure season starts buoyantly, and the first leaving dos are always well attended. Friends and acquaintances write cards, print off photos, compile memento albums, and give generously to the collection. The sad fact is that later on in the summer term, you can find yourself emotionally depleted by too many farewells. There is no solution to this. You just have to pick yourself back up, attend that next party, and remember that one day it will be you that is leaving. It really is important, for both those staying behind and those moving on, that a proper farewell is had.

This revolving door scenario has always been part of expat life, but I still struggle with the whole concept. New friends, of course, come along, and paths will cross again with those that have left. While some goodbyes may only be temporary goodbyes, experiencing the departure of friends does not get easier with repetition. In fact it can simply make it tougher. Almost all expats speak of reaching departure fatigue at some point, which can get in the way of forming new bonds with new arrivals. Some of the first questions an expat will ask another, is “when did you arrive?” and “how long do you think you’ll be here for?” This mindset can get in the way of forming new friendships, you’re always thinking about which one of you will be the first to leave.

This is my fifth year in Beijing, so I have plenty of experience in being “the expat left behind”. Of course you’re excited for your friends that are leaving, but you also feel bereft that your life is going to be different too without them. Whatever you do, don’t make the person feel guilty about leaving. No matter how upset you are, don’t make them feel bad that they are heading off on a new adventure. By all means, give yourself a bit of time to feel bad about it, but it’s better to cherish the time you had with them. No one can replace people’s places in our lives, but there is certainly room enough to let in other great people.

The expat experience is such that people are always coming and going. The temporariness and the challenge of this situation is part of what accelerates the friendship creation and in a way make it so special. So when I’m going through yet another departure season, I try and remember that goodbyes don’t have to be permanent unless you want them to be.

beijingkids Shunyi Correspondent Sally Wilson moved to Beijing in 2010 from the UK with her husband and son. Her daughter was born here in 2011 and both her kids keep her happily busy. In her spare time, Sally loves to stroll through Beijing’s hutongs and parks. She is a (most of the time) keen runner and loves reading: books, magazines, news, and celeb websites – anything really. Sally is also a bit of a foodie and loves trying out new restaurants.

Photos: Peter Kaminski, Debra Bruno, IK’s World Trip (Flickr)

I’m not a hoarder by nature. But being an expat for the last 10 years and having coordinated 4 major moves, my views on “stuff” have shifted.

I save things.

If you ask my husband, sometimes I do so inexplicably. I save Christmas cards, packing supplies, small trinkets, magazines, anything that comes home from school, including an unending stream of what my children insist are artistic masterpieces. I can’t always see the creative genius, but they’d be heartbroken if we didn’t save every one, so I do.

I save containers in various shapes and sizes for, well, container emergencies like, “I need to make a diorama tomorrow,” or “There’s an egg drop competition.” or “Don’t you have a bag the perfect size for my collection of…?” And so on.

I’m also not the most organized person and holding onto things for longer than typical is my way of making sure nothing goes missing. From these revelations it might seem like I really am a hoarder or at least have tendencies in that direction, but I am saved from admitting this to myself by the fact that, every few years, we move and we are allotted a strictly enforced weight limit for our goods.

So we must purge, purge, purge before we leave.

Our next move is just months away. Our three years in Beijing are the longest we’ve ever lived anywhere since we picked up our lives and joined the expat throng and, consequently, our pile of possessions is a lot larger than usual. Mentally, I started the purging process long ago. I’ve thought my way systematically through each room and closet, taking stock of everything we’ve crammed in over the last 36 months and making lists of what can go, what can stay, and what should be sent to storage.

This was an unexpectedly emotional process, but I tried to be rationale, pragmatic, and keep the sentimentality to a manageable level. I thought I was making progress, gearing up for the inevitable sorting and donation runs, and so I shared my brilliant assessments with my husband.

I rattled off the no-brainers first, the items we could not possibly ever need or want again, then moved on to the more subjective areas – outgrown children’s books and games, nostalgia clothing we’ve held onto, but haven’t worn in years, gifts we’ve never used, but can’t seem to part with because they were gifts, and even things I’d prefer to keep if I had the luxury of limitless weight and space.

I glanced at my husband as I neared the end of this list, eager for his approval. But, his eyes were narrowed, his brow furrowed, he was just not in agreement with my carefully crafted plans. He was clearly not pleased. When I took a breath, he swooped in and item by item offered reasons why every single thing I mentioned had to be kept.

I was dumbfounded.

Didn’t he understand how much mental time and energy I had put into this? Didn’t he understand I too loved our things, I the keeper of tins and toilet paper rolls and a devotee of the phrase “just in case?” Did he not appreciate the effort involved in actually getting rid of this stuff in favor of just letting the movers pack up and paying an enormous bill when we went way over our weight limit? I was doing us a favor taking on this mammoth task and saving us money!

He, however, was steadfast in his objections, but I was formidable. I pointed out many of our beloved effects were taking up space and would serve someone else better. I reminded him there are myriad mechanisms available in Beijing for painlessly divesting ourselves of those things we hold dear, but are just excessive.

I convinced him we had more stuff than any family of five needs, and we could be content with less. A LOT LESS! And then I showed him the 6 large garbage bags full of stuff pulled from just my side of the closet in a single afternoon and finally the lights came on. He saw the fruits of my mental calisthenics and miraculously began to purge too.

We’re at the beginning of this process, but we’ve begun. We’ve done our homework and have plans to visit various charities with weekly drop-offs. I’ve got my advertisements ready to post on some online resources, and I’ve noted the dates for our office, school, and church rummage sales and toy drives.

We’re offering first dibs on everything to our Ayi and the other ayis in our building. And, slowly, we’re making headway. I’ll miss some of the things we’re parting with, but many I’ll forget about instantly and wonder why I ever thought we couldn’t live without them.

Except for maybe that one University sweatshirt shoved way back in the corner. That one I might keep, just in case!

6 Resources for Purging:

1. Roundabout
2. Operation Blessing
3. Bethel
4. Lion Club
5. Freecycle Beijing: FreecycleBeijing@yahoogroups.com
6. Beijing Mamas: beijing_mamas@yahoogroups.com

Photo Courtesy: Linsey Crisler

I arrived in Beijing on a cold and gloomy November morning, late to the party as the latest horde of expats had arrived that summer. During my first year in Beijing, I thought a great deal about family and friends back home. I had left behind a successful career, my wonderful friends and family, everything I knew – and I was finding it hard to adjust. When I look back on that first year, I missed out on opportunities to forge relationships with people because my mind was somewhere else.

Then, it all just fell into place. My son was settled in school, I’d just had my daughter, my husband’s job was going well, we’d found a great ayi, and I was amongst a wonderful group of friends. I still missed the UK and very much looked forward to the twice yearly trips back, but Beijing was now our home. We were happy. Then, something started to happen that I hadn’t prepared for at all: people started to leave.

As an expat, you are immersed in a pool of friends and acquaintances. You meet someone at a baby group and make a note to get to know them better, only to find that they’ve announced their departure before you’ve had a chance to text them.

So when you do meet the right people, the risk is that you cling to them. Expat friendships can be intense, which makes it even harder when one of you leaves – and it never gets any easier. No matter how many “expat living” books you read, nothing really prepares you for how many times you will have to say goodbye.

It’s not just parents who feel the absence. Expat children also suffer from the fall-out of a nomadic lifestyle. Last year, one of my best friends left Beijing, and I was worried how my then 4-year-old son would cope with losing his best friend too.

In the end, he dealt with it really well, although I think it was because of his age. It also helps if you know you will meet up with them again. We know we will go see our friends in Singapore, and a girl’s weekend is planned for later this year.

Whilst Skype and Face Time are great for staying in touch, and actually being able to see each other, it can also make it harder if your kids are really missing those friends.

Then June comes around and signals the start of too many a huansong hui (goodbye parties). On the positive side, when you have friends living in so many places, the world seems a lot smaller. It will surely give our kids a sense of wanting to experience more of the world; my son knows so much about different countries and cultures, and has visited so many amazing places already.

So whilst expats are experts in saying goodbye, they are also pretty darn good at saying hello. Because every time somebody leaves, somebody else arrives, and that person could be the one you end up spending a lot of fun times with.

So never close your door and always remember what it felt like when you first arrived. Expat life is full of uncertainty. Don’t dwell on when the next goodbye will be or when it’ll be your turn to go; just live fully in the moment. I am so grateful for all the incredible people I’ve met here and how they’ve shaped – and continue to shape – my life in Beijing.

beijingkids Shunyi Correspondent Sally Wilson moved to Beijing in 2010 from the UK with her husband and son. Her daughter was born here in 2011 and both her kids keep her happily busy. In her spare time, Sally loves to stroll through Beijing’s hutongs and parks. She is a (most of the time) keen runner and loves reading: books, magazines, news, and celeb websites – anything really. Sally is also a bit of a foodie and loves trying out new restaurants.

Photos courtesy of Ben Eng, Karen Cropper, sophisticatedbiba (Flickr)