“Serving overseas as a small-town boy in America has been intense, stressful and humorous! Enjoy a light-hearted story with me from our last 20 years overseas!”

—Matt , Matt’s Mishaps

Were you traumatized by swim lessons as a kid?  My parents for many summers sent me to the local public pool to try to learn to swim.  Each summer I’d progress a little, but all the others in my class would advance up to the next level as I lingered behind.  Eventually I was in late elementary school and the others in my swim class were now a head or two shorter than me.  I was finally allowed to stop classes.  I wasn’t “traumatized” by swimming nor the pool, but being the one who stuck out like a sore thumb.  I love swimming and pools to this day.  However, my wife and sons still think I don’t know how to swim, though I feel like I am Olympic caliber at the doggy paddle and treading water.

Overseas I have trouble going unnoticed at a pool too.  One hot day I was with my family at a “sea pool” along the coast.  The sea pool had a pump that would draw salty sea water into the pool and then pump it out every once in a while to clean it.  We saw a dozen locals standing around the pool, but not getting in.  My three sons and I put a foot in the water and it didn’t seem that cold.  We thought, “We’ll have to show those wimpy locals how it is done.”  We all climbed down the ladder and enjoyed the refreshing water as all the locals watched on.  After several minutes, one of my sons got my attention – a jelly fish was floating in the water.  We all moved over to another side of the pool and were enjoying ourselves, when we spotted a few more jelly fish.  Then our eyes adjusted to how the jelly fish floated about and we saw dozens more in the pool.  We all made our way quickly to the ladder and out of the pool.

It is hard to go unnoticed at a pool when you are a fish out of water.

Something similar ever happen to you?   Contact me and let me hear your story!

Matt’s Mishaps, PO BOX 114, Grabill, IN  46741

“Serving overseas as a small-town boy in America has been intense, stressful and humorous! Enjoy a light-hearted story with me from our last 20 years overseas!”

—Matt

By: MATT’S MISHAPS

Overseas, I do a lot of our grocery shopping as many stores do not have parking lots.  It is easiest for me to pick up some groceries when I am out on my motor scooter as I can park on sidewalks.  When shopping overseas right after getting back from being home in Indiana, I realized I had forgotten shopping bags, and it is expected that you bring your own reusable bags to stores.  No problem, I had my motorcycle helmet bag with me, which is like a large drawstring bag made of fleece.  I could put some food in the back case of my motor scooter and carry the rest in my helmet bag.

I was buying food for a family that was coming over that evening.  I filled my back case with items and the rest of the groceries fit in my helmet bag.  Off I went home.  About midway home, I realized orangish-yellow liquid sloshing on the foot platform of my motor scooter – a juice container was leaking.  In the store I had checked the pouring spouts of all the drinks that I had purchased and all were secure.  It is not unusual for poor packaging that causes drinks and food contents to open up and spill out.  I even check the caps of liquids like milk as I have had caps opened and the liquids in the containers half consumed by a thirsty customer or worker.  I didn’t drink what they had left for me in those half-consumed bottles and the rest of it made its way down the sink.

When I got to our apartment, I put the helmet bag in the sink until I could find the culprit – an orange juice container.  I gave all the sticky wet food items a bath and dried them off and put them away.

We as small-town Americans take for granted that food and drink will stay in the packaging until we are ready to consume them.  America does many things well, but maybe in the little, yet important area of packaging, is where we shine brightest.

Something similar ever happen to you.   Contact me and let me hear your story!

mattsmishaps@gmail.com    Matt’s Mishaps, PO BOX 114, Grabill, IN  46741

Matt’s Mishaps

“Serving overseas as a small-town boy in America has been intense, stressful and humorous! Enjoy a light-hearted story with me from our last 20 years overseas!”

—Matt

Funerals can be times to reflect on tragic death that happened before we thought it was time.  Other times, funerals are like family and friend reunions where we celebrate a life lived to its fullest and maybe one that finished at a time later than expected.

Births, graduations, marriages, and funerals are conducted in different ways in each country and culture.  I had to awkwardly mishap my way through learning new protocols and expectations at these important life events when living overseas.

We Americans often have an elaborate embalming process for our deceased loved ones that allows funerals to be delayed for days and weeks in order for all to arrive.  However, where we live overseas, no such chemicals and processes happen, so funerals occur within a day or two after death.  I have missed many funerals as I didn’t get word in time about someone’s passing.

Cemeteries are also a different affair.  As land is limited, people are buried in niches in walls.  Unless a person is of very special and significant importance, the niche is only for a 30-year period, and then they are moved to a large common grave (a pit in the cemetery).  We have a cemetery not far from our overseas house that was established by superstitious fisherman some 300 years ago.  Foreigners (mainly Dutch and English) who died here were not allowed to be buried on the land (thought to be bad luck), so the bodies were attached to large rocks and sunk at sea.  However, fisherman believed their poor catch was caused by the foreigners being buried in their fishing waters.  The compromise was a cemetery for foreigners in an undesirable  location.  Where?  The military had a magazine for unstable munitions where none of the living wanted to build nearby, so it was a good location for the foreigners’ cemetery. 

Faster communication makes it easier for me to not be late for funerals, but I am cautious where the cemetery is located.

Something similar ever happen to you.   Contact me and let me hear your story!

mattsmishaps@gmail.com    Matt’s Mishaps, PO BOX 114, Grabill, IN  46741

“Serving overseas as a small-town boy in America has been intense, stressful and humorous! Enjoy a light-hearted story with me from our last 20 years overseas!”

—Matt

A Trap of Many Sizes

There seems to be a perpetual tension between man and critters.  My dad has a perpetual war with chipmunks.  Despite our best efforts to remind him how cute they are, his chewed-up plants and the trafficway through his landscaping beds say otherwise.  His chipmunks are live trapped and taken on a one-way trip to a nearby woods.

My dad inherited his dad’s love of trapping and war with animal pests.  I remember many ankle breaking size holes scattered through my grandpa’s pole barn and property.  My grandpa used kill traps to go after groundhogs.  I remember him carefully pulling back the strong spring and very, very carefully setting it into the hole.  He was thrilled when checking the traps to pull out a lifeless furry 5-10lb critter out of the hole.

When studying wildlife at Purdue, we live trapped all sorts of animals.  We had to check traps very frequently as large animals would try to eat the critter caught inside.  Other times the critter inside would go berserk and hurt itself if left too long.

Smaller animal trapping in Indiana did not prepare me for the recent traps I ran into overseas.  A German friend showed me the largest live trap I had ever seen.  I was clueless as to what it was for.  He warned me not to go inside, as people can’t escape one on their own either once inside.  Hunters in our area use packs of dogs.  Instead of putting older hunting dogs “to pasture,” hunters just release them to the wild to scavenge for themselves.  The abandoned dogs often starve to death or form packs and become dangerous to people.  My German friend and others trap the dogs in the forests for their wellbeing and people’s safety.

I have learned that there is trap of every size and thankful that small-town America normallay only needs the smaller sizes.

Something similar ever happen to you.   Contact me and let me hear your story!

mattsmishaps@gmail.com    Matt’s Mishaps, PO BOX 114, Grabill, IN  46741

“Serving overseas as a small-town boy in America has been intense, stressful and humorous! Enjoy a light-hearted story with me from our last 20 years overseas!”

—Matt 

Mis-scheduled Milestone

On turning fifty years of age, AARP sent me information to join their ranks of old folks. I am now half a century old and considered an antique by automobile standards. I would be a youngster if I was a giant tortoise that can live two-hundred years. I already move as slow as one.

On returning from a work trip days before turning fifty, my wife with a smile on her face, informed me that she had scheduled a colonoscopy for me without consulting me. I didn’t put up a fight that I couldn’t win. I began the protocol of eating bland foods the few days before the medical procedure at our overseas hospital.  It was followed by a day of liquid diet, which meant that it was a day near the toilet. When nearing the last leg before the procedure, I downed fizzy medicine and drank the required three liters of fluid. I heard gurgles and squeals coming from my body that disturbed me.  

My wife was required to accompany me to the hospital on the fateful day in my gurgling state and to make sure I got home safely afterwards. I brought a pile of cash with me because the hospital required full payment before the procedure, and their credit card machine regularly malfunctioned. I did not want to get to the hospital after these last eventful dietary days to be turned away as I couldn’t make payment.

After giving my name at the front desk, I was told by the receptionist that I was not scheduled for that day, but a month later. Using emotion and gasps, with some words too, I made it clear that I was not going to leave until the procedure was completed or I might violate the eleventh commandment (Thou shalt not whimper and make a seen in a hospital lobby). The receptionist restated that I was not scheduled for that day and that I must have misheard the scheduling operator who was wearing a mask. I could distinguish between February and March through a mask, and the discussion went on. Eventually the receptionist said she would call a supervisor.  

Fifteen minutes later I was relieved to be approached by a nurse who said she would accompany me to the area for the procedure.  I put my items in a locker, put on the robe, laid on a stretcher like bed, they put the IV in my arm, and the doctor began asking me questions.  The last thing I remember was saying that I was from Indiana and missed eating corn on the cob, and the next thing I know I was waking up in a space enclosed by curtains.

A month later I was walking with my wife to the hospital for her first colonoscopy.  She takes the warnings on the pre-procedure legal sheet too seriously and said to me without a smile on her face now, “I could have major complications from this.”  I replied to her, “Not so much drama, you could have greater complications from not doing it.”

Something similar ever happen to you?   Contact me and let me hear your story!

mattsmishaps@gmail.com    Matt’s Mishaps, PO BOX 114, Grabill, IN  46741

“Serving overseas as a small-town boy from America is intense, stressful and humorous! Enjoy a light-hearted story with me from our last 20 years overseas!”

—Matt 

People are More Territorial than Dogs

I have many favorite running routes along sleepy country roads around small-town America.  However, I get shaken awake on the sleepy road when a large dog stares me down and begins to approach as I pass its property.  In most cases the dogs calm down and stop barking once past their territory.

Nevertheless, people are far more territorial than dogs.  It seems more striking overseas as it happens in such spectacular ways.  For example, the garbage collection in our neighborhood happens at large containers at the corners of streets.  Each day we lug our garbage 100 yards to the container (not leaving trash in the home overnight to attract cockroaches).  There are not garages and yards like America, so no garage sales and yard sales, and people just have less stuff.  Old stuff gets taken to the neighborhood garbage containers and “trash pickers” have their territories (neighborhoods) where they will violently guard their trash containers.  They sort through the garbage (even climbing into the containers) and then sell anything of value to flea markets.

We have coastlands near us and locals will guard their territory from others who come to use their area to surf.  “Locals only” is commonly graffitied and those who defy the warning too many times will have their cars “keyed” or even torched.

My only problem with “territorial humans” overseas has been with taxi drivers.  They work long hours and changing shifts, so this probably makes them more likely to get irritated and aggressive quickly.  I was traveling through a large city and stayed at lodging that provided a free airport shuttle.  I awoke early one morning and got loaded into the airport shuttle van with other weary-eyed travelers.  We only drove about 50 yards as 3 taxi cabs pulled in front and blocked the path.  The drivers got out of their cabs with very aggressive postures and just stood there blocking the way.  We waited, and waited, and waited.  The shuttle van driver just looked expressionless at the taxi drivers, and I don’t know if he was scared, but the passengers were!  We not only feared getting beat up, we feared missing our flights.  After this went on for what seemed like an eternity, the shuttle van driver slowly maneuvered the vehicle around the taxi drivers and their cars and out through a flower bed.

It wasn’t my only run in with angry territorial taxi drivers.  Friends stayed at a hotel near our overseas apartment, and while I was loading them into my van to get to the airport, two angry taxi drivers approached me.  The taxi drivers thought I was working in their territory.  I tried to avoid them and explained that I was happy to contact the police to sort it out.  They grudgingly let us drive away and get to the airport.

I think the best approach with territorial animals, people or dogs, is to avoid any confrontation when you are in their perceived territory as they are only in a barking and biting mood.

Something similar ever happen to you?   Contact me and let me hear your story!

Matt’s Mishaps, PO BOX 114, Grabill, IN  46741

“Serving overseas as a small-town boy from America is intense, stressful and humorous! Enjoy a light-hearted story with me from our last 20 years overseas!”

—Matt 

Cold Soup House

Do you have a dreaded home project?  I just spent an hour at our overseas, neighborhood paint store buying another paint brush and a new bucket of wall paint, and also shaking the ceiling paint that was left over and still good.  I go to a professional painter store and buy their top-of-the-line stuff, which is only the quality of products you’d buy at a dollar store in America.

It has been up to a “comfortable, sweaty-hot” 84F degrees in our overseas apartment this last week.  There is no basement to retreat to, as I did as a kid, when growing up in the era before air conditioning in Indiana.  In the winter the apartment gets to a “comfortable, damp-cold” in the low 60Fs.  Yes, we don’t have heat, nor air conditioning in our overseas, city apartment and this contributes to the mold that quickly grows and smells on our walls and ceilings.  I reluctantly try to repaint one part of the apartment each summer, after much urging and coaxing on my wife’s part.  

She has done her motivating job, and I will begin the painting job today with the indoor temps in the low 80Fs.  I actually like painting – taking paint from a bucket, to the brush or roller, and then applying it to the wall.  What gets me so grumpy is the moving and covering of the furniture and wall decorations, and then uncovering it and moving it all back when completed.  I easily spend three times as much energy prepping and cleaning up, as I do actually just painting.

When I finish the job my shoulders and neck will ache for days from the reaching around and maneuvering in awkward positions.  Our overseas apartment is around 1100ft square (very large for over here), and we have a long, skinny hallway snaking along that is 50 feet long, only 3  feet 3 inches wide, and is over 9 feet tall.

The friendly paint store man said we call long, skinny, city apartments, “cold soup houses,” as your food is cold by the time it gets from the kitchen to the dining room at the other end.  Cold soup sounds pretty good on this hot day!

Something similar ever happen to you.   Contact me and let me hear your story!

mattsmishaps@gmail.com    Matt’s Mishaps, PO BOX 114, Grabill, IN  46741

“Serving overseas as a small-town boy from America is intense, stressful and humorous! Enjoy a light-hearted story with me from our last 20 years overseas!”

—Matt 

Squirrels and Reindeer

My trusty pump-action BB gun and Marlin .22 rifle brought me many squirrels in mosquito ridden woodlots around my county.  I learned early how to reproduce the rapid chatter of a squirrel – keech-keech-keech-keech.  The squirrel would chatter back to me while moving its tail angrily, thinking that another had entered its territory.  I would be able to find it in the tree to get my shot.  I skinned a few of the squirrels, but my pelt tanning never worked out well and the skins turned out as rigid as a board.  If it is possible, my one attempt at squirrel stew turned out even worse than my tanning.  

During this current summer I have been traveling and visiting workers that we supervise overseas.  Some of these workers serve in the northern regions where reindeer live and are semi-domesticated by the locals.  Reindeer, like squirrels, make noises that communicate to one another.  They click their knee joints -click-click-click-click. It is so distinctive that other reindeer can determine the size of the other one and know whether to approach it or stay away.

My wife loved the thick reindeer skins that were being sold by vendors in the city market on our summer trip.  (We use animal skins to decorate our humid apartment  and they also serve to absorb the moisture out of the air.)  My wallet told me I needed to negotiate the price down if we wanted to get one.  I began the negotiating process that took no small amount of time with the reindeer hide seller.  The seller and I both felt exhausted and relieved when the process was finally over, and I bought the skin for 30% less than his starting price.  

My wife had been so concerned that the skins would be sold out in the afternoon that we went early in the morning to make that purchase.  However, I then had to carry it all day long on my back in a bag that said, “Reindeer Hide.”  I looked like a dorky tourist and a potential victim for any aggressive animal rights activist who might spot me.  

I was ready to finally get back to our campground where we were staying.  However, my wife got a message from a son – he wanted a skin too.  With great reluctance from me, and much urging and chuckles from my wife, I approached the reindeer hide seller a second time.  The seller smiled and rolled his eyes.  We made a gentlemen’s agreement to not go through the haggling process again and he just sold me the second hide at the price of the first one.

I walked through the city center and took two trains to get back to the campground with Rudolf and Blitzer hanging on my back.

Something similar ever happen to you?   Contact me and let me hear your story!

mattsmishaps@gmail.com    Matt’s Mishaps, PO BOX 114, Grabill, IN  46741

“Serving overseas as a small-town boy from America is intense, stressful and humorous! Enjoy a light-hearted story with me from our last 20 years overseas!”

—Matt 

Misplaced Mishaps

It is an unspoken pride that we small-town Americans are pretty good at practical and well thought through placement.  Placement of things is a big deal.  Whether it is putting the stack of plates at the start of a potluck line (not the end) to good companies like Wayne Johnson Homes in Grabill, Indiana who know the ins and outs of placement in drafting up a home.  

However, overseas the intuitive ability to place things well doesn’t happen like we small-town Americans think it should.  Let me give some examples.  In our apartment building’s shared hallways, doorbell buttons are near light button and are the same shape, size and color (meaning you inadvertently ring your neighbors door when you want light).  The doorknobs for the front doors of people’s home are not placed at the side that opens away from the hinges, but in the middle of the door.  Breaker (fuse) boxes are right inside the front door of the home and often the first thing you see.  Light switches for bathrooms are often placed outside the bathroom in the hallway.  It is not uncommon to see outlet plugs in the middle of walls with electrical cables crawling up the wall (not the bottom of the wall like in America).

Good placement avoids a lot of mishaps.

Something similar ever happen to you.   Contact me and let me hear your story!

mattsmishaps@gmail.com    Matt’s Mishaps, PO BOX 114, Grabill, IN  46741

“Serving overseas as a small-town boy from America is intense, stressful and humorous! Enjoy a light-hearted story with me from our last 20 years overseas!”

—Matt

Against US Army policy

Our son had been through basic training and was in the final stages of training to be a US Army Cavalry Scout when his Christmas leave came up one year.  We were excited that the Army would allow him to visit us overseas for the holiday.  The US Army doesn’t have a lot of enlisted people based Stateside who travel overseas to see their families at Christmas, so their protocol doesn’t fit well.  I felt like a mishap father as I didn’t know what advice to give him on getting to us.

First, he was told what clothes he could wear to leave and return to the Stateside base and even what he could bring in a small backpack to take on his Christmas holiday. Our son would wear his full camo uniform, cap, and boots for the three flights and four airports to get to us. Also, he was required to bring cold weather gear on holiday, even though we don’t have cold weather where we live overseas and it filled up most of his small backpack. When he got to the first airport from the base, I told him to ask the airline desk if US military could get bumped up to business. My son informed me that it was against US Army policy to ask any questions like that

An Army uniform is something we Americans are proud of, but not necessarily those from other countries.  He would be wearing the uniform through places that were not friendly to the US Army.  I asked him about removing his patches attached by Velcro to his uniform to blend in as a local military man when going through foreign airports.  He told me it was against US Army policy to do this.  Ironically, a captain in the US Army in civilian clothes was in one of these airports and saw our son.  He encouraged our son to not wear the US Army uniform for his wellbeing, but then realized the drill sergeants had not allowed our son to even pack any civilian clothes for the Christmas holiday.  Our son said he was quite an attraction in some airports where people would unashamedly stare at him.

However, his uniform became less of a concern as his hunger mounted.  When one flight away from our overseas home, he had a day layover.  He went to McDonalds in the airport to get breakfast.  His debit card did not work and he had no local currency.  He had no credit card as his recruiter/sergeant warned against him taking it to the first base he was posted.  It didn’t help that his last flight was to be delayed.  He called us and light heartedly laughed with us about his predicament.  I told him to sit Indian style on the ground with his beret open and sitting in front of him to beg for food money outside of Starbucks.  Surely any Americans in the airport would eventually make their way to Starbucks for an overpriced  coffee.  Again, he reminded me that it was against US Army policy, even though he knew I was joking.

We then lost phone coverage with our son until he arrived to our local overseas airport.  He had no charging adaptor for the foreign outlets and had to get off the phone – not allowed to bring anything on the Christmas trip that wasn’t on his official Army packing list.

On or off duty, being an American soldier isn’t always easy with US Army policies.

Something similar ever happen to you. Contact me and let me hear your story!

mattsmishaps@gmail.com    Matt’s Mishaps, PO BOX 114, Grabill, IN  46741