Three is a Magic Number

It’s been three years since I last updated this blog. Oops.

Better late than never, I suppose!

What has happened in three years? Mostly not much…that is until I decided to become a mum, and now my little family is three.

Having some time away from my hectic work life has given me more time to reflect, and rekindled my desire to write.

Today my son is 5 weeks old, and we walked to the shops together for the first time. He was born by caesarian, so it has taken me a while to feel up to the task. Some mums on the Internet have claimed that they were fully recovered from their caesarians two weeks post-partum,  but I don’t believe them. If so, then perhaps it is my age or the long labour the preceded it, or the fact that my boy wasn’t exactly tiny at 4.12 kgs (or 9 lbs for the North Americans) – but I could still barely walk after two weeks!

I’m still not supposed to drive for another week, but I woke up today determined I was going to take myself out. I would just have to use my legs. It’s amazing how something as simple as getting out of the house for a couple of hours can make you feel human again. I loaded up the Mountain Buggy URBAN JUNGLE (my husband literally made me buy this stroller because of its name, though I admit now that it’s actually quite good) and trundled my way to the shops. I had a coffee and brunch – eggs benedict with hollondaise sauce and poached eggs with runny yolk – basically a smorgasbord of things I wasn’t allowed to eat while I was pregnant. It was glorious.

It was less glorious going to the toilet with a stroller, the baby starting to scream and having to do a quick breastfeed whilst sitting on a disabled toilet, followed by a change of diaper which took three tries (at least he didn’t pee all over himself or me, which is a real hazard with little boys). Once he was calm we did the rest of the feed outside on a nice sunny bench. I still feel a little shy about breastfeeding in public, but not so shy that I’m going to stay in a toilet any longer than I need to.

Things are certainly more complicated with a baby in tow, but somehow I don’t mind. I’m enjoying this different pace of life, and marveling at the miracle that my body somehow grew a tiny human, and that he came into this world safe and sound thanks to modern medicine, and that he is is own little person.

I spent a lot of time while I was pregnant feeling that the life inside was a part of me, so it is fascinating to see him now, a separate individual, and to realize that he will grow to be a man one day, living his own life. His story will exist because of my husband and I. I suppose this is the very crux of the human imperative; our only true chance at immortality lies in the propagation of our genes. And damn, not only is it satisfying, but the resulting offspring is also tremendously adorable.

The sun is out and this last couple of weeks my baby has started smiling, which just makes the world so much brighter.

To finish, have a ridiculously long collage detailing the last nine months of my life. Looking back, although it’s only been just over a month, I can hardly believe I was that pregnant.  It’s amazing how quickly you forget! (Credit where credit is due: the photos were edited using an app called BabyPics and the collage was created at Fotor):

 

We Nomads

Saint John, NB, Canada

“We doctors know a hopeless case if, listen; there’s a hell of a good universe next door: let’s go.” – e. e. cummings

I come from a small town. I grew up surrounded by trees, fresh air, deep snow and dirt roads, just like the Feist song.

It’s a beautiful little town. But I craved adventure. I craved a life of freedom and new experiences.

So I determined to travel. I didn’t want to just travel, either. I wanted to live somewhere new, long enough to really get a feel for a different culture. I figured that, since my single-parent family didn’t have a whole lot of money to spare, the best way to do that would be to work while travelling. I discovered that, through teaching, I could not only work while living abroad, but they’d even pay my airfare. Despite any nervousness I might have had, it was almost a no-brainer. I chose Japan, and off I went.

I hugged my little family goodbye, and tried not to cry as I watched them on the other side of the soundproof glass, tears streaming down their faces.

I was a bit sad, but the truth was, my eyes were on the horizon. I was ready to find out what the world had to offer.

Life has been a roller-coaster since then. I went back home, got married, and lost my mum – the person who had been the centre of my world for so long. The person who had taught me so much wisdom, and had instilled in me a fierce independence that, in the end, pulled me away from her.

Now, I find myself living in Australia, with the husband I met in Japan. That child I was, dreaming beneath the red canopy of autumn, could never have imagined where I would end up. I am certain there is more travel ahead for me. But I’ve learned a few things from the three countries I’ve lived in.

Yakushima Island, Japan

Firstly, everyone should spend some time in living in a foreign country if they have the opportunity. It is amazing. You’ll see incredible sites. You’ll see the sun rise over breathtaking mountain vistas, watch fish swim at the bottom of crystal clear rivers, or splash your feet in water so full of bioluminescence that just walking makes it light up like a scene from Avatar. You’ll watch dolphins weaving in and out of turquoise waves and touch your fingers to the shivery leaves of plants you’d never imagined existed.

Not only that, but you’ll learn so much about yourself. You’ll come to see many, many aspects of your life that you previously took for granted. You’ll gain a new appreciation for your own language. You’ll start to pick out your own strengths and weaknesses when you hold yourself up against a different set of standards. You’ll meet people who will push you, challenge you, and touch your heart.

But beware. Once you step over the threshold of home, it may be difficult to look back. Adventure is addictive. You start to crave it – the newness; the thrill of the unexpected and the joy of exploration.

There is a price.

Should you choose to live abroad, you will become a nomad. The more wonderful people and places you meet, the more wonderful people and places you’ll eventually miss. In the back of your mind, you’ll always be yearning for somewhere, someone, or some creature comfort you took for granted at the time. Unexpected everyday occurrences will bring flashbacks of other times and places that are now far from you.

You will make people cry. Just as so many people touched you and made your life richer, you did the same for them. They will miss you, too. They will write you letters wishing they had the pleasure of your company, and you’ll dream together of meeting again. Your wonderful memories will be tinged with guilt.

You will make sacrifices. When one door closes, another opens. When you move to another country, you close a lot of doors behind you, even as you expand into new territory.

You will feel simultaneously a part of many places, and no place. They say home is where the heart is – yours will be torn into many fragments and scattered across the globe.

We glamorize adventure. We plaster it all over our walls and our screens. We fill our lives with tales of exotic expeditions. We may consider some “less cultured” than others, if they have seen less of the world. But those who have chosen to stay in one place get to put down roots that run deep. They become part of their landscape in a way that we nomads perhaps never will.

Living abroad is a bittersweet adventure. All of this is part and parcel of the tapestry of human experience. It is joy, it is guilt, it is heartbreak and wonder, it is sorrow and it is beauty distilled, all woven into the threads of your life. I chose to travel because of this. I wanted to push the boundaries of what I knew. I wanted to dive deep into that tapestry and discover its subtle hues and shadows.

So spread your wings, my fellow world adventurers! Land like dandelion seeds wherever the wind takes you and take root, if you can. Just remember, before you go, to take a good long look around you and consider what you will leave behind.

Are you willing to pay the price?

Touchdown

I made it!

Finally, after thinking about it for so long, planning and stressing, sad farewells, and mounds of paperwork, here we are in the land of Oz.

It was a grueling plane ride. If you are from the East coast of North America, and you want to get to the East coast of Australia, you’re going to have a hard time. We also went with cheapness over comfort, and so had a very lengthy layover in Los Angeles. Overall, it took us about three days of traveling to arrive, and about $500 in excess baggage charges. I highly recommend, when traveling on airplanes in the economy cabin, being a short person.

I must admit I was a bit disappointed in the customs at Sydney airport. Following dire warnings from various sources about the strictness of Australian customs, I had prepared all of my accompanying paperwork so carefully for my prescription medication and for mum’s tiny little urn, and I had gone over in my mind answers to every possible question I thought they might ask; I was ready for anything they could throw at me.

It went something like this.

Customs officer: “Is this your first entry into Australia?”
Me: “Well, I did visit a few years ago…”
Customs officer: “No I mean on this Visa.”
Me: “Yes.”
Officer: *stamps the passport* “Have a nice day.”

I moved on to security. I had indicated on the entry form that I had been on a farm within 30 days (I’d been horseback riding), so I expected some questioning on it. It was like this:

Security officer: “Anything to declare?”
Me: “Just that I’m carrying a small urn with my mother’s ashes.”
Officer: *stamps the form* “Ok, go on through.”

I confusedly started to stop with my overloaded luggage cart at the search counter and he waved and said, “Ma’am…..just go all the way through.”

So that was it. I was in Australia. No fanfare or welcome or rigamarole.

It felt a bit as if I’d sneaked in.

It is beautiful here. I had forgotten since the last visit, three years ago. I left the beginnings of Autumn for the beginnings of spring. Everything is in bloom and freshly green. Whatever trepidation I had about leaving during all those hard farewells has at least been alleviated knowing that I get to live in a whole new world. I am also well aware that this is the “honeymoon” phase of culture shock, but I might as well enjoy it while it lasts and everything is still strange and new. Getting to skip winter altogether this year is an added bonus!

On my very first walk outside, I saw kangaroos. And parrots. And palm trees.

 

 

Eventually it might just sink in that this is my new home.

 

Me for the last time

I have made it to my last night in Saint John.

I tried to go to bed at 9:30 because I was tired, but the emotions have taken over. 

So here I am at midnight, in the middle of an empty, echoing living room, saying goodbye to myself as I know it.

It’s weird, because it’s this moment where I know that the person I have been being will definitely change. I will be in a new environment, with a whole new set of experiences behind me, and new people around me. I will become a new me.

This apartment will also become a new home.

It’s strange how things can stay so much the same, and change so much all at the same time.

Saying so many goodbyes has been hard. Some worse than others. It has made me miss Mum so much more. It feels like she should be part of all this. There is a gap in my life. There will be one for the rest of it, I suspect.

Grammie was the worst. She cried and said it wouldn’t be the same without me to come visit once in a while. Nobody wants to be the jerk who makes their grandmother cry. That is me. I am that jerk.

It made me wonder, “Why am I doing this again?” Why am I leaving behind my beautiful home and my beautiful family and my beautiful friends?

Adventure is a vicious siren. Wonder and curiosity and love will pull you in places you never thought you would go. Besides, I told my grandmother it is her own fault. She made me wonder. She made me long for adventure. She told me I should write a book someday, but that only people with difficult, interesting lives write books.

So here I am, trying my best to make my life difficult or interesting or both. I can’t really tell if it’s working yet. But at least it’s keeping me on my toes.

Horse Happy

Any day involving horses is a fantabulous day as far as I’m concerned. I hope that everyone in their life finds something that makes them this happy. I can’t pinpoint exactly what it is about these animals that is so awesome. Winston Churchill supposedly said,

“There is something about the outside of a horse that is good for the inside of a man.”

I can’t verify that he actually said that, and I hope that by “man” he meant “humanity”, because certainly the outsides of horses are loved by many girls and women as well. In fact, the number of men I have encountered at my riding schools in three years, I could count on one hand. Either way, he was sure right.

Let me show you the source of my happiness today. There is a new horse at the riding school I attend. His name is Jerry. He is a stubborn, speedy Paint and I’ve only ridden him twice, but I am having so much fun with him. He is packed full of spunk, energy and a dash of sass. I seem to have an affinity for slightly pig-headed horses who like to go fast. Go figure.

I felt a connection with him, though. When I let him loose in the pasture he just stood next to me instead of wandering off to eat hay as they usually do. And just before I left, I grabbed my camera to take a shot. He walked right over to the fence to say hello. He’s just so darn lovable!

 

I also got to have lunch next to this today:

Maelstrom!

The Reversing Falls. I think the tide was going out. There was a sweet whirlpool.

I feel the need to document all of this, because I will be leaving it soon. Why is it that we tend not to truly appreciate what we have, until we lose it? Somehow things come more into focus when there is emotion attached. My hope is that document everything as it happens will help keep it real for me. And hopefully remind me of it all when I’m elderly.

As long as we still have Internet, and are not living in some sort of post-civilization dystopia.

Maybe I should print these pages.

Happy Birds

Today’s happiness was brought to you by: BIRDS.

So, it was International Migratory Bird Day today. Birds are cool.

My current favourite is the Northern Flicker. They are a little type of brightly coloured woodpecker. Their name in french means “Flamboyant Woodpecker” (pic flamboyant).

“I’m fabulous!”

I work at a Museum and we did a whole bird-themed day around this. It was swank! In the course of preparing for the day, I also found a sweet site filled with bird song recordings under creative commons licensing. Educators, go nuts! I know I did 🙂

I particularly loved finding a recording of Barn Swallows. They are noisy little buggers, but growing up there was always a little family of barn swallows outside my window. Each morning I’d wake up to their chitter-chatter and I’d look out the window to watch the adults bring bugs to the little fledglings, all lined up in a row on the electrical wire attached to the house. I had almost forgotten that memory. I didn’t forget though, that if you get to close to their nests they will dive-bomb your head.

This year, it was a long hard winter. When I saw the first flock of blackbirds flying overhead (I knew it was them as I could faintly hear their calls), I actually cried. As a general rule, I loathe shedding tears in public, but the winter was cold and difficult this year, and not just because of the snow and ice.

So birds make me cry, they make me smile, and their feathers unfortunately make me sneeze.

Here is one of my buddies from the museum:

“Bonsoir!”

He is a Great Horned Owl; his French name is “The Grand Duke of America” (Le grand-duc d’Amérique).