I attended a dinner party the other night, at a comfy apartment in a suburb outside of Hamburg. Guests included Canadian (both French and English-speaking), American, and German teammates from my husband’s hockey team, and their spouses. It was a fun, casual evening of burgers and wine. A new woman joined our group that night, having just arrived from Canada a couple of days prior to spend the rest of the hockey season with her husband. It is to be her first time living overseas, and I could see it all over her face. Not only was she still suffering the ill effects of jetlag, she appeared bewildered, confused by the different languages swirling around her, overwhelmed with meeting new people, and uncomfortable in what, for the rest of us, was such an easy setting.
I knew just how she felt.