Brighton Pier, Saturday 26 August
Wednesday, August 30, 2006
A Day at the Seaside: Part three
Still chatting about how incredible the Royal Pavilion was we exited the gift shop and found ourselves right back in the centre of Brighton – and in the 21st Century! A little past noon, the town had transformed itself from when we arrived a few hours earlier… the major difference being the throngs of people on the streets!
We headed towards a pedestrian area known as The Lanes, which I am assuming is one of the reasons Brighton is known as London’s little, arty sister… full of boutiques… second-hand bookshops and quirky gift stores… the area is a magnet for tourists… and being a tourist myself, it was embraced whole-heartedly!
Several hours and a few pounds later, we headed for the seaside! The beach is not what I would call attractive, crossing the main road, you find yourself on the concrete promenade and then make your way directly on to the pebbly beach. I was a little dubious at first… but what would you know… I actually lay down on the pebbles for an afternoon siesta, and it was surprisingly comfortable – and no sand midges either!
We ended the day at the famous Brighton Pier… it was endlessly interesting, even if, like us, you had no desire to ride on any of the roller coasters/ merry-go-rounds/ helter skelters or play any of the arcade games… you could spend a great deal of time there just people watching. Everyone who passed seemed to be having so much fun! And we were in for a surprise too… in the end pavilion on the pier we came across the 50s/60s band ‘The Drifters’ performing a free concert! It seemed so fitting to be on the pier, which I can imagine had a bit of a hey-day in the 50s/60s and listen to the rock’n’roll/Motown singing Drifters perform their hits like ‘Saturday Night at the Movies’!
We headed towards a pedestrian area known as The Lanes, which I am assuming is one of the reasons Brighton is known as London’s little, arty sister… full of boutiques… second-hand bookshops and quirky gift stores… the area is a magnet for tourists… and being a tourist myself, it was embraced whole-heartedly!
Several hours and a few pounds later, we headed for the seaside! The beach is not what I would call attractive, crossing the main road, you find yourself on the concrete promenade and then make your way directly on to the pebbly beach. I was a little dubious at first… but what would you know… I actually lay down on the pebbles for an afternoon siesta, and it was surprisingly comfortable – and no sand midges either!
We ended the day at the famous Brighton Pier… it was endlessly interesting, even if, like us, you had no desire to ride on any of the roller coasters/ merry-go-rounds/ helter skelters or play any of the arcade games… you could spend a great deal of time there just people watching. Everyone who passed seemed to be having so much fun! And we were in for a surprise too… in the end pavilion on the pier we came across the 50s/60s band ‘The Drifters’ performing a free concert! It seemed so fitting to be on the pier, which I can imagine had a bit of a hey-day in the 50s/60s and listen to the rock’n’roll/Motown singing Drifters perform their hits like ‘Saturday Night at the Movies’!
A Day at the Seaside: Part two
Once we had finished wandering through the Museum and Art Gallery, we headed for the Royal Pavilion. This was the highlight of my trip to Brighton and to be honest, probably one of my highlights of England so far.
A little background:
The Royal Pavilion was created by a young King George IV (while he was Prince of Wales). The impression that I got was that his Dad was taking an awful long time to pass on the throne to George and so he had a bit too much time on his hands... he enjoyed the finer things in life, and so decided to create a bit of a Royal Disneyland for himself in Brighton... which at the time was known as a health resort - the restorative power of salt water!
Once the Pavilion was built (in the early 19th century), some of George's contemporaries were not too impressed - one said it looked like a bunch of turnips stuck on top of boxes! I, on the other hand, was in awe. Today we are in a situation in which movies and technology mean that whatever the imagination can dream up, it can then be turned into some form of reality... so you can imagine if I was walking around the building with my mouth wide open, what indeed George's peers thought! Each room was so intricately detailed. I think that you could sit in the middle of any one room for a day and still not see everything there is to see.
My two favourite rooms were the banqueting hall and the kitchen (my travel glutton theme continues!). The banqueting hall was beyond amazing. I am not exaggerating when I say that my mouth literally dropped open as I entered. The ceiling was domed and in the centre was a huge silver dragon which was clutching a chandelier that weighed one tonne! The four to five metre long table in the middle of the room was set for dinner for 30 guests and the host’s chair was in the very centre (as opposed to the head) as he liked to sit amongst his guests!
The kitchen was a marvel, simple yet beautiful and technologically advanced for the time… George himself was so impressed with it, that he was fond of taking his guests on tours of the area. The audio guide we made our tour with said it was not unusual for the kitchen to prepare 118 (not a misprint - one hundred and eighteen!) separate dishes for an evening meal! There was one huge wall with ovens all along and on the other side there was a fire place and an automatic rotisserie so big that several dozen chickens could be roasted at once! Although it was a room primarily for the hired help, there were elements to the room that made you think that George did not do things by halves!– for example, a palm tree theme on supporting poles that seemed to recur throughout the pavilion found its way to the kitchen also.
I was incensed to hear towards the end of the tour that when Victoria inherited the Pavilion in the mid 1800s she found it not to her taste and was set to have it demolished before the Brighton and Hove city councils stepped in and purchased it in 1850. Since then, the ‘Palace’ has been public property. Thank God! The very idea that someone would not think this building worth keeping is ridiculous… I may not yet have seen much of England, but I’m telling you, the Pavilion will easily remain on my Top Ten England, no matter where or what else I visit.
A little background:
The Royal Pavilion was created by a young King George IV (while he was Prince of Wales). The impression that I got was that his Dad was taking an awful long time to pass on the throne to George and so he had a bit too much time on his hands... he enjoyed the finer things in life, and so decided to create a bit of a Royal Disneyland for himself in Brighton... which at the time was known as a health resort - the restorative power of salt water!
Once the Pavilion was built (in the early 19th century), some of George's contemporaries were not too impressed - one said it looked like a bunch of turnips stuck on top of boxes! I, on the other hand, was in awe. Today we are in a situation in which movies and technology mean that whatever the imagination can dream up, it can then be turned into some form of reality... so you can imagine if I was walking around the building with my mouth wide open, what indeed George's peers thought! Each room was so intricately detailed. I think that you could sit in the middle of any one room for a day and still not see everything there is to see.
My two favourite rooms were the banqueting hall and the kitchen (my travel glutton theme continues!). The banqueting hall was beyond amazing. I am not exaggerating when I say that my mouth literally dropped open as I entered. The ceiling was domed and in the centre was a huge silver dragon which was clutching a chandelier that weighed one tonne! The four to five metre long table in the middle of the room was set for dinner for 30 guests and the host’s chair was in the very centre (as opposed to the head) as he liked to sit amongst his guests!
The kitchen was a marvel, simple yet beautiful and technologically advanced for the time… George himself was so impressed with it, that he was fond of taking his guests on tours of the area. The audio guide we made our tour with said it was not unusual for the kitchen to prepare 118 (not a misprint - one hundred and eighteen!) separate dishes for an evening meal! There was one huge wall with ovens all along and on the other side there was a fire place and an automatic rotisserie so big that several dozen chickens could be roasted at once! Although it was a room primarily for the hired help, there were elements to the room that made you think that George did not do things by halves!– for example, a palm tree theme on supporting poles that seemed to recur throughout the pavilion found its way to the kitchen also.
I was incensed to hear towards the end of the tour that when Victoria inherited the Pavilion in the mid 1800s she found it not to her taste and was set to have it demolished before the Brighton and Hove city councils stepped in and purchased it in 1850. Since then, the ‘Palace’ has been public property. Thank God! The very idea that someone would not think this building worth keeping is ridiculous… I may not yet have seen much of England, but I’m telling you, the Pavilion will easily remain on my Top Ten England, no matter where or what else I visit.
A Day at the Seaside: Part one
Brighton is officially my favourite English seaside town. Of course,this isn't difficult as Brighton is also the only English seaside town I have ever visited. We reached Brighton at 9am on Saturday morning. It was a relatively quick journey from Cambridge: taking around an hour to get to London's King Cross Station (we took a minor detour and had photos with Harry Potter's trolley to Platform 9 and 3/4 and theHogwarts Express - what a day trip that would have been!) and then just over an hour from London to Brighton.
It seemed that as we walked the streets into the town centre, Brighton was still asleep. Stores and street stalls were only just opening, and the visitors centre and various tourist attractions didn't open until 10am. First on the agenda was the Brighton Museum and Art Gallery, which is located in the Royal Pavilion Gardens. The Museum/Art Gallery is an odd mixture of local history, period furniture and tribal costume.
The highlight for me was actually a special exhibit on an artist named Rex Whistler.I must admit, that generally when it comes to art I am more than slightly ignorant. However, I do know what I like and something about Rex Whistler's various works had me intrigued! He was an English artist who was part of the famous London society group of the '20s known as the'Bright Young Things', he seemed to be able to do it all - design theatre sets, illustrate books (his favourite work was the illustrations he did for the book Gullivers Travels) and paint murals for the Tate! All the pieces on display were full of detail, and his sense of humour seemed to shine through each work.
I became very attached to him as we wandered through the three rooms devoted to his life and was saddened to learn at the end of the exhibit that he died in 1944 aged 39 on his first day of combat in World War II. To think that he still had so much to offer the world, it makes you think that not only WWII but all the wars that there have been... that there still are, we lose thousands and thousands and thousands of people who have so much to give, and it all seems rather pointless.
It seemed that as we walked the streets into the town centre, Brighton was still asleep. Stores and street stalls were only just opening, and the visitors centre and various tourist attractions didn't open until 10am. First on the agenda was the Brighton Museum and Art Gallery, which is located in the Royal Pavilion Gardens. The Museum/Art Gallery is an odd mixture of local history, period furniture and tribal costume.
The highlight for me was actually a special exhibit on an artist named Rex Whistler.I must admit, that generally when it comes to art I am more than slightly ignorant. However, I do know what I like and something about Rex Whistler's various works had me intrigued! He was an English artist who was part of the famous London society group of the '20s known as the'Bright Young Things', he seemed to be able to do it all - design theatre sets, illustrate books (his favourite work was the illustrations he did for the book Gullivers Travels) and paint murals for the Tate! All the pieces on display were full of detail, and his sense of humour seemed to shine through each work.
I became very attached to him as we wandered through the three rooms devoted to his life and was saddened to learn at the end of the exhibit that he died in 1944 aged 39 on his first day of combat in World War II. To think that he still had so much to offer the world, it makes you think that not only WWII but all the wars that there have been... that there still are, we lose thousands and thousands and thousands of people who have so much to give, and it all seems rather pointless.
Tuesday, August 22, 2006
Home Sweet Home
I have well and truly settled into Cambridge life. We have been in Cambridge a month tomorrow, and I now have a home, a job and even a sort of funny routine.
I don’t quite feel like a local yet, but I don’t feel like a visitor anymore either. Travelling is interesting, you’re always seeing something new and different, but I think there is also merit in staying long-term somewhere, getting to know another place’s norms and customs. It’s hard to think of what makes the difference for someone to feel like they are a local, a piece of the furniture, rather than someone who is just passing through. Perhaps if you move a great distance you’ll never quite get that feeling, probably, rather, it is a continuum and you slowly work your way along it.
There are a couple of things that make me feel like I am making steady progress… Barry once provided me with his theory on the meaning of life… basically it was consumption… he believes that it’s as simple as that… we were put on this earth to consume – and if that’s so, I think we are doing a pretty good job. I have become a Cambridge consumer, I have adopted my own ‘locals’ – the local supermarket, the local deli, the local Indian takeaway, the local post office, the local café with the fantastic chocolate brownies (Pandoro who?!)…
The other thing that makes me feel like I have a sort of temporary permanence in Cambridge is that I have developed a routine. For example… Sunday night is Indian takeaway night…every second Tuesday is cheap movie night… Wednesday night I have netball practice and Thursday night is pub quiz at the Unicorn.
I have also developed a small network of friends and acquaintances… Fran, our land lady, with her gorgeous, ancient dog Ella; Angeli, our temporary flatmate; the neighbours John, Mark, Evelyn and Frances, who tend to check in on us, and inform us of local expectations/customs; Pete and Sarah – a link back home, who have been so welcoming… and also form the most intelligent third of our pub quiz team! … I look forward to getting to know the girls in the netball team (there are about twenty of them!) and the ladies from work too, and before you know it… I have developed a semblance of a home in the middle of England… so far away from all of the most important people in my life.
Last night I was on the internet (in England), chatting away to Barry (New Zealand), and our friend Steve who’s in Canada at the moment, who was in turn chatting to Barry… I had talked to Mum and David (from China) that morning and received an email from family in the States the day before… all of the sudden the world doesn’t seem so big… and it doesn’t seem so impossible that Cambridge is going to be my home for the next six months...
I don’t quite feel like a local yet, but I don’t feel like a visitor anymore either. Travelling is interesting, you’re always seeing something new and different, but I think there is also merit in staying long-term somewhere, getting to know another place’s norms and customs. It’s hard to think of what makes the difference for someone to feel like they are a local, a piece of the furniture, rather than someone who is just passing through. Perhaps if you move a great distance you’ll never quite get that feeling, probably, rather, it is a continuum and you slowly work your way along it.
There are a couple of things that make me feel like I am making steady progress… Barry once provided me with his theory on the meaning of life… basically it was consumption… he believes that it’s as simple as that… we were put on this earth to consume – and if that’s so, I think we are doing a pretty good job. I have become a Cambridge consumer, I have adopted my own ‘locals’ – the local supermarket, the local deli, the local Indian takeaway, the local post office, the local café with the fantastic chocolate brownies (Pandoro who?!)…
The other thing that makes me feel like I have a sort of temporary permanence in Cambridge is that I have developed a routine. For example… Sunday night is Indian takeaway night…every second Tuesday is cheap movie night… Wednesday night I have netball practice and Thursday night is pub quiz at the Unicorn.
I have also developed a small network of friends and acquaintances… Fran, our land lady, with her gorgeous, ancient dog Ella; Angeli, our temporary flatmate; the neighbours John, Mark, Evelyn and Frances, who tend to check in on us, and inform us of local expectations/customs; Pete and Sarah – a link back home, who have been so welcoming… and also form the most intelligent third of our pub quiz team! … I look forward to getting to know the girls in the netball team (there are about twenty of them!) and the ladies from work too, and before you know it… I have developed a semblance of a home in the middle of England… so far away from all of the most important people in my life.
Last night I was on the internet (in England), chatting away to Barry (New Zealand), and our friend Steve who’s in Canada at the moment, who was in turn chatting to Barry… I had talked to Mum and David (from China) that morning and received an email from family in the States the day before… all of the sudden the world doesn’t seem so big… and it doesn’t seem so impossible that Cambridge is going to be my home for the next six months...
Wednesday, August 16, 2006
Watch out Lance Armstrong!
I am considering putting a full page advert in the Cambridge Evening News… “Beware all Cambridge Road Users: Hana has a bike!”
...
I have become the proud new owner (ok… hirer) of a bike… as I mentioned in an earlier post, the citizens of Cambridge appear to do the majority of their commuting on bikes, and how could I become a fully fledged Cambridge-ite without trying pedal power myself?!
I hired the bike yesterday from a place in the middle of town… I mentioned to the man behind the counter that I had not been on a bike since I was eleven, and so he kindly let me practice on a side street behind his shop before I decided whether or not I would take it. I went about 30 metres and managed not to crash – although I didn’t manage a straight line either… so I jumped right in the deep end and took it for three months!
The bike has cost me £65 for the three months, which I think is pretty reasonable… especially if I use it instead of catching the bus (I will miss that though!). I have christened it the Silver Bullet, although I must admit with me riding it, it is currently more like the Silver Snail… alas… I can only get better, right?
I actually pushed it most of the 45 minute walk home as I was too terrified / embarrassed / ridiculously useless to ride it home. I did work up the nerve to try it out on the footpath on a couple of VERY quiet streets… it was a disaster… if the footpath has any dips or bumps I tend to turn a corner and wind up in the grass or in a bush…
I have decided not to try my luck on a road until I can ride in a straight line for at least 100 metres – that might take a while! In fact I must go and practice now – wish me luck!
...
I have become the proud new owner (ok… hirer) of a bike… as I mentioned in an earlier post, the citizens of Cambridge appear to do the majority of their commuting on bikes, and how could I become a fully fledged Cambridge-ite without trying pedal power myself?!
I hired the bike yesterday from a place in the middle of town… I mentioned to the man behind the counter that I had not been on a bike since I was eleven, and so he kindly let me practice on a side street behind his shop before I decided whether or not I would take it. I went about 30 metres and managed not to crash – although I didn’t manage a straight line either… so I jumped right in the deep end and took it for three months!
The bike has cost me £65 for the three months, which I think is pretty reasonable… especially if I use it instead of catching the bus (I will miss that though!). I have christened it the Silver Bullet, although I must admit with me riding it, it is currently more like the Silver Snail… alas… I can only get better, right?
I actually pushed it most of the 45 minute walk home as I was too terrified / embarrassed / ridiculously useless to ride it home. I did work up the nerve to try it out on the footpath on a couple of VERY quiet streets… it was a disaster… if the footpath has any dips or bumps I tend to turn a corner and wind up in the grass or in a bush…
I have decided not to try my luck on a road until I can ride in a straight line for at least 100 metres – that might take a while! In fact I must go and practice now – wish me luck!
Tuesday, August 08, 2006
My parents, the Intrepid Adventurers
Two of my parents embark on their own big adventure this week. Mum and David (my other Dad) are off to China for at least a year. How brave – a lot more challenging than England – especially when you already have such firm roots established in New Zealand! They are both teachers and are going to be teaching at an International School in mainland China – a 30 minute ferry ride from Hong Kong. The school they are going to is run by Americans, but caters to a diverse international community – the city in which they will be living is actually in one of China’s International Economic Trade Zones (or something like that!) so they will be meeting children from all around the world.
I just wanted to write a quick note to say that I think you both are very brave, and I know that you will have the most amazing experience – I think you will find out so much about yourselves as individuals, and such an experience can only strengthen your relationship even more.
I know it will be hard for you to leave all the family and your friends, but think about all the people you will meet, and you know that we are all just a phone call or email away (global communication, huh, who would have thought!?!)
Embrace the experience and take every opportunity that is offered to you. This is something that you guys have looked forward to for so long, and even though you may be feeling apprehensive and anxious at the moment, know that you are made to do this. You have the love and support of everyone at home and you deserve the chance to explore and discover a whole new corner of the world.
We will all miss you so much when you are away (I already do!) but just think how lucky the people in China are to have you for a short time (and it better be!). You both have so many qualities you don’t realise you have – you are interesting and interested – China’s lucky to have you.
Miriam Beard wrote “Travel is more than the seeing of sights; it is a change that goes on, deep and permanent, in the ideas of living.” I know what an impact seeing new things has on both of you and I know that your time in China will influence you in all sorts of ways. So have a safe trip and enjoy every thing that comes your way.
I just wanted to write a quick note to say that I think you both are very brave, and I know that you will have the most amazing experience – I think you will find out so much about yourselves as individuals, and such an experience can only strengthen your relationship even more.
I know it will be hard for you to leave all the family and your friends, but think about all the people you will meet, and you know that we are all just a phone call or email away (global communication, huh, who would have thought!?!)
Embrace the experience and take every opportunity that is offered to you. This is something that you guys have looked forward to for so long, and even though you may be feeling apprehensive and anxious at the moment, know that you are made to do this. You have the love and support of everyone at home and you deserve the chance to explore and discover a whole new corner of the world.
We will all miss you so much when you are away (I already do!) but just think how lucky the people in China are to have you for a short time (and it better be!). You both have so many qualities you don’t realise you have – you are interesting and interested – China’s lucky to have you.
Miriam Beard wrote “Travel is more than the seeing of sights; it is a change that goes on, deep and permanent, in the ideas of living.” I know what an impact seeing new things has on both of you and I know that your time in China will influence you in all sorts of ways. So have a safe trip and enjoy every thing that comes your way.
Bus Characters
At home I wouldn’t be caught dead on a bus. In New Zealand, public transport scares me (and quite rightly so). The only time in my life when I was routinely subjected to public transport was during my University years. There were points during this three year stint where I would feel optimistic enough to catch the train… going into town was fine, but coming home, I would regularly end up at Waitakere Station and have to catch the train back in to Henderson. My major concerns with public transport in New Zealand, apart from falling asleep and missing my stop, were the time it actually takes to get anywhere (yes, it is faster driving) and the cost (yes, it is cheaper driving – especially with the little March!).
Here in Cambridge however, things are a different story. Catching a bus is like going to the theatre for the evening (without the fancy dress)… there are so many characters that catch your interest… there is no possible way to stay asleep. The other benefits are that you can buy a weekly pass and get unlimited travel for £9.50 and since the alternative is walking, bus transportation is obviously much quicker.
I have only caught the bus 5 or 6 times so far… but I am already sold! I will not only liken it to a night at the theatre, but go as far as to say that it has it all… drama, romance, comedy, a little mystery even… who needs to pay a TV licensing fee when you have the bus!?
On our route (the Magical Number 3, according to our friend Pete) each time we have caught the bus a story has unfolded in front of us… the day after the folk festival in the park next to our house ended, a Peter Jackson look-alike and his hobbit-y looking friends got on the bus… as it happened, they were planning their next trip together (did it involve a ring, I’m not sure… but it did involve a flight to Majorca!)
Two days ago I witnessed a bus romance… sweet is not quite the word… it seems that the just-out-of-school bus driver had picked up a fan along the way, and she stood quite contentedly at his side for the entire bus trip… whispering sweet-nothings in his ear and giving evil glances to any female who dared get on or off the bus. I, on the other hand, sat white-knuckled, gripping the seat in front of me… could he really concentrate on the road and the safety of the 30 passengers who had their life in his hands with her fawning all over him?
There were two old men sitting behind me the other day, and I think they may have been planning a bank heist, I wanted in, but didn’t want to give away my eavesdropping!… (ok… over-active imagination there!) …not to mention those to kiwi girls who took up half the bus the other day with duvets and pillows and bedside lamps – have they not heard of a taxi!?!...
Here in Cambridge however, things are a different story. Catching a bus is like going to the theatre for the evening (without the fancy dress)… there are so many characters that catch your interest… there is no possible way to stay asleep. The other benefits are that you can buy a weekly pass and get unlimited travel for £9.50 and since the alternative is walking, bus transportation is obviously much quicker.
I have only caught the bus 5 or 6 times so far… but I am already sold! I will not only liken it to a night at the theatre, but go as far as to say that it has it all… drama, romance, comedy, a little mystery even… who needs to pay a TV licensing fee when you have the bus!?
On our route (the Magical Number 3, according to our friend Pete) each time we have caught the bus a story has unfolded in front of us… the day after the folk festival in the park next to our house ended, a Peter Jackson look-alike and his hobbit-y looking friends got on the bus… as it happened, they were planning their next trip together (did it involve a ring, I’m not sure… but it did involve a flight to Majorca!)
Two days ago I witnessed a bus romance… sweet is not quite the word… it seems that the just-out-of-school bus driver had picked up a fan along the way, and she stood quite contentedly at his side for the entire bus trip… whispering sweet-nothings in his ear and giving evil glances to any female who dared get on or off the bus. I, on the other hand, sat white-knuckled, gripping the seat in front of me… could he really concentrate on the road and the safety of the 30 passengers who had their life in his hands with her fawning all over him?
There were two old men sitting behind me the other day, and I think they may have been planning a bank heist, I wanted in, but didn’t want to give away my eavesdropping!… (ok… over-active imagination there!) …not to mention those to kiwi girls who took up half the bus the other day with duvets and pillows and bedside lamps – have they not heard of a taxi!?!...
Wednesday, August 02, 2006
The Runaway Wife
NB: if soppiness makes you ill, please do not read any further.
Distance makes the heart grow fonder. I’m not too sure if this is true, but I know one thing is for sure – distance makes the heart grow more appreciative of what the heart has!
Today I sent Barry a card and on the inside it said “Life with you is an adventure”. In it I wrote that even though we are half a world away, I still feel as though this is just another adventure we are experiencing together. The last week has been hard for me… Bri (who’s fiancé is in the airforce and so has much more experience at the long distance thing than me) says that weeks three and four are always the hardest. I find that I have to force myself not to call home constantly. I have written to Barry almost every day since I left New Zealand, either in an email or a letter. I also speak to him at least twice a week. Even though he isn’t here to share the experience with me, I feel as though I am sharing it with him, through the letters and phone calls. We also seem to be going through the same emotions but from other sides of the planet. Barry doesn’t have homesickness, but I like to think he has Hana-sickness (hmmm… was that worded quite right?!?) and I think we are both appreciating now more than ever the relationship we have.
I was speaking to my friend Phoebe before I left, on what I though it would be like, leaving Barry behind. I was trying to explain, the gratitude and support I felt, that made me know that it would be ok leaving him (not happy and not easy, but ok). I told her that I’m lucky because with Barry I have the unconditional love and support that I have only ever received from my parents before him. I know that not everybody even gets this from their parents, so I know how fortunate I am to have it from so many people in my life. Not everybody gets that in a relationship. It doesn’t mean that I can act like a complete idiot and he won’t get mad or upset, but it does mean that he wants what is best for me, above and beyond what is best for him. From the moment I brought up the possibility of doing this crazy thing – of moving half way around the world – he was supportive… not just supportive, but encouraging even!
At the end of the card I wrote to Barry today, I said, “Even though this adventure is pretty tough at the moment, I know that in the end it will be worth it, because it means that we will appreciate all the other adventures we really do share together all the more.”
Ever since my year in Missouri during high school, I have believed that with travel, the lessons you learn about yourself and the relationships you have are far more important and stay with you for far longer than all the memories of Eiffel Towers, Coliseums and Towers of London ever will. So, I look forward to appreciating my husband more… I look forward to the lifetime of adventures we will share together… and I look forward to the ways that this particular adventure will strengthen our relationship.
Distance makes the heart grow fonder. I’m not too sure if this is true, but I know one thing is for sure – distance makes the heart grow more appreciative of what the heart has!
Today I sent Barry a card and on the inside it said “Life with you is an adventure”. In it I wrote that even though we are half a world away, I still feel as though this is just another adventure we are experiencing together. The last week has been hard for me… Bri (who’s fiancé is in the airforce and so has much more experience at the long distance thing than me) says that weeks three and four are always the hardest. I find that I have to force myself not to call home constantly. I have written to Barry almost every day since I left New Zealand, either in an email or a letter. I also speak to him at least twice a week. Even though he isn’t here to share the experience with me, I feel as though I am sharing it with him, through the letters and phone calls. We also seem to be going through the same emotions but from other sides of the planet. Barry doesn’t have homesickness, but I like to think he has Hana-sickness (hmmm… was that worded quite right?!?) and I think we are both appreciating now more than ever the relationship we have.
I was speaking to my friend Phoebe before I left, on what I though it would be like, leaving Barry behind. I was trying to explain, the gratitude and support I felt, that made me know that it would be ok leaving him (not happy and not easy, but ok). I told her that I’m lucky because with Barry I have the unconditional love and support that I have only ever received from my parents before him. I know that not everybody even gets this from their parents, so I know how fortunate I am to have it from so many people in my life. Not everybody gets that in a relationship. It doesn’t mean that I can act like a complete idiot and he won’t get mad or upset, but it does mean that he wants what is best for me, above and beyond what is best for him. From the moment I brought up the possibility of doing this crazy thing – of moving half way around the world – he was supportive… not just supportive, but encouraging even!
At the end of the card I wrote to Barry today, I said, “Even though this adventure is pretty tough at the moment, I know that in the end it will be worth it, because it means that we will appreciate all the other adventures we really do share together all the more.”
Ever since my year in Missouri during high school, I have believed that with travel, the lessons you learn about yourself and the relationships you have are far more important and stay with you for far longer than all the memories of Eiffel Towers, Coliseums and Towers of London ever will. So, I look forward to appreciating my husband more… I look forward to the lifetime of adventures we will share together… and I look forward to the ways that this particular adventure will strengthen our relationship.
Tuesday, August 01, 2006
The Woes of a Big Foot
Every female knows that one of the best ways to learn about a culture is through local shopping rituals. Perhaps, if you are male you should just stop reading here. I have learned a few things about the English from my short time here already and I am prepared to give you a full account of my shopping adventures (or should that be misadventures?!).
1. Big Foot
As I had always suspected, I am a big foot. Mum assured me that when I came to England I would have no trouble finding shoes for my size eleven feet. She reasoned (and quite reasonably I should add) that with a population so much bigger than New Zealand’s there must be thousands of women with the same problem as me, and therefore a real market for big shoes. Yes, well I can tell you that if this is the case, there is a huge market opening. The largest size they stock in stores is an eight, sometimes a nine. I asked a shop assistant yesterday if I could try a certain pair of shoes in a size nine or ten (I understand that your shoe size here is one size smaller than in NZ – so I should be a ten). She looked at me with disdain and snarled, “we don’t stock nines here – eight is the biggest we have. Now take your monster feet somewhere else.” (OK, she may not have said the last bit, but she may as well have!!! I have considered just wrapping my feet in plastic bags, but I have a feeling they might look even bigger.
2. The psychological size barrier
Every woman has a particular size that they have an issue with wearing. It is their own personal ‘fat’ indicator, what I have termed the psychological size barrier (or PSB for short). I have one of my own (not disclosing actual size), one that I must admit, after some serious eating and laziness before leaving NZ, I was very close to purchasing. Women go to great lengths to avoid their size demon. For example, you may shop at a store that sells relatively big sizes, so your label still says 12 even though in most stores it is actually a 14. Other tactics employed include purchasing flowing shirts etc instead of figure-hugging or tailored shirts, or buying skirts with elasticised waist bands. When I’m feeling dangerously near the size barrier I buy slouch jeans instead of bootcuts, you get my drift. So, as I indicated, I was on the edge of my own personal size barrier. The amount of walking and heat (and therefore lack of appetite) in Singapore however, got me back to my regular size… and once we hit London I felt ready to shop again.
Upon reflection, the four-storey top shop in Oxford Street may have coaxed me out of retail wilderness before I was ready. The variety was amazing, I was grabbing every second thing I passed. Not being sure what size I was, I picked the size I sometimes am at home and the size which is one under my PSB, just to be safe. Well, it turns out that English sizing is much smaller than New Zealand sizing – a British 12 is like a NZ 8/10 and so on… which meant that the two sizes I was trying on were too small… I would have to breech the PSB to make any purchases. Could I do it? Actually, no. It took me two weeks before I could bring myself to purchase an item past my PSB, and in reality the only reason why I did it was because I had a job interview and no black skirt – it was a necessity, and as soon as I get a pair of scissors I will be cutting the label out…
3. Arm thing
Anyone who knows me knows that I am not a muscley type of girl. In fact toned is a bit of an overstatement: twelve-year-olds can beat me at arm wrestling matches, and I need assistance to open jars. Therefore it goes to say that I have always considered my arms quite slender (yes, slender and puny are the same thing), why then, when trying on an oddly-sized British shirt that fits every where else, will my arms not fit in the holes? It is the strangest thing. At first I thought it was just me. I was hesitant to bring it up with Briar in case I actually had freakishly large arms and had just never noticed… one day it got to be too much though and I told Bri and she had been having the same problem – what are the odds!??! Obviously New Zealand girls eat too much spinach. There is no other explanation.
So, other than my big foot (pre-existing) and big arm (newly-developed) complexes, as well as my wrestle with the PSB, shopping in England is a dream… the variety is endless (and to be honest, what more does a girl really need?)… and it’s not until you get to the checkout counter and perform the necessary currency conversion that a whole new string of anxieties set in!
1. Big Foot
As I had always suspected, I am a big foot. Mum assured me that when I came to England I would have no trouble finding shoes for my size eleven feet. She reasoned (and quite reasonably I should add) that with a population so much bigger than New Zealand’s there must be thousands of women with the same problem as me, and therefore a real market for big shoes. Yes, well I can tell you that if this is the case, there is a huge market opening. The largest size they stock in stores is an eight, sometimes a nine. I asked a shop assistant yesterday if I could try a certain pair of shoes in a size nine or ten (I understand that your shoe size here is one size smaller than in NZ – so I should be a ten). She looked at me with disdain and snarled, “we don’t stock nines here – eight is the biggest we have. Now take your monster feet somewhere else.” (OK, she may not have said the last bit, but she may as well have!!! I have considered just wrapping my feet in plastic bags, but I have a feeling they might look even bigger.
2. The psychological size barrier
Every woman has a particular size that they have an issue with wearing. It is their own personal ‘fat’ indicator, what I have termed the psychological size barrier (or PSB for short). I have one of my own (not disclosing actual size), one that I must admit, after some serious eating and laziness before leaving NZ, I was very close to purchasing. Women go to great lengths to avoid their size demon. For example, you may shop at a store that sells relatively big sizes, so your label still says 12 even though in most stores it is actually a 14. Other tactics employed include purchasing flowing shirts etc instead of figure-hugging or tailored shirts, or buying skirts with elasticised waist bands. When I’m feeling dangerously near the size barrier I buy slouch jeans instead of bootcuts, you get my drift. So, as I indicated, I was on the edge of my own personal size barrier. The amount of walking and heat (and therefore lack of appetite) in Singapore however, got me back to my regular size… and once we hit London I felt ready to shop again.
Upon reflection, the four-storey top shop in Oxford Street may have coaxed me out of retail wilderness before I was ready. The variety was amazing, I was grabbing every second thing I passed. Not being sure what size I was, I picked the size I sometimes am at home and the size which is one under my PSB, just to be safe. Well, it turns out that English sizing is much smaller than New Zealand sizing – a British 12 is like a NZ 8/10 and so on… which meant that the two sizes I was trying on were too small… I would have to breech the PSB to make any purchases. Could I do it? Actually, no. It took me two weeks before I could bring myself to purchase an item past my PSB, and in reality the only reason why I did it was because I had a job interview and no black skirt – it was a necessity, and as soon as I get a pair of scissors I will be cutting the label out…
3. Arm thing
Anyone who knows me knows that I am not a muscley type of girl. In fact toned is a bit of an overstatement: twelve-year-olds can beat me at arm wrestling matches, and I need assistance to open jars. Therefore it goes to say that I have always considered my arms quite slender (yes, slender and puny are the same thing), why then, when trying on an oddly-sized British shirt that fits every where else, will my arms not fit in the holes? It is the strangest thing. At first I thought it was just me. I was hesitant to bring it up with Briar in case I actually had freakishly large arms and had just never noticed… one day it got to be too much though and I told Bri and she had been having the same problem – what are the odds!??! Obviously New Zealand girls eat too much spinach. There is no other explanation.
So, other than my big foot (pre-existing) and big arm (newly-developed) complexes, as well as my wrestle with the PSB, shopping in England is a dream… the variety is endless (and to be honest, what more does a girl really need?)… and it’s not until you get to the checkout counter and perform the necessary currency conversion that a whole new string of anxieties set in!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
