A Winter's Walk

Us (and my sister, tucked in her coat) in Regents Park, late 1983/early 1984

It was late morning in mid-winter.  There was a crisp chill in the London air and I was wrapped in warm layers: a cuddly hat and scarf, warm overcoat and patent leather T-bar shoes buckled firmly over my wool tights.  She pushed brass handle of the heavy, mahogany door open and we squinted in the bright morning light, one small hand tucked safely inside one big hand. The sun hung lazily above the trees  whose stark, finger-like branches were barely a shadow as they reached toward the milky winter sky.  With my right hand firmly in her left, we walked down Clifton Gardens, my free hand gripping the plastic bag of stale breadcrumbs we were bringing for the duck's breakfast.  She told me about the boats we were going to see, about the ducks we'd later feed and how they say hello.  I practiced my "quacks" as best I could, and as I told her of the mummy, daddy, and baby ducks we'd see she listened to me as she always did: with full attention, as though what I had to say was the most important thing she had ever heard.

When our route met the canal, we veered off Blomfield Road to the little footpath beside the canal.  This was my favorite part.  The canals of Little Venice seemed a well-kept secret, and three-year-old me liked to believe that she and I were the only two who knew about them.  But the best secret of all was that people lived in boats on the canal.  They slept in them, cooked in them, ate in them - a concept that seemed so magical.  As we strolled along the dark water, I crouched down to peek through the sheers hanging on the tiny windows.  I'm sure I expected to see tiny people living in these tiny, floating homes.  She told me stories of the people who lived in the boats, real-life fairy tales and I hung on every word, her breath billowing clouds around her head as she spoke: "This boat belongs to a little princess who is hiding away from life in the palace, and in that boat lives a little girl, her favorite doll and her mummy and daddy, because they don't like to live in proper houses".

The Little Venice canal we walked down many a day. via

Once we had examined each and every 'house' along the canal, she said "let's go to the park and feed the ducks".  Some days we'd take the big, red, double-decker buses, but on this occasion we found our way to the nearest Tube station.  We sat on the bench, waiting for the train, and I looked everywhere for Paddington Bear.  As the roaring train approached, she gripped my hand and I tucked my face into her hip as train stopped in front of us with a screeching gush of wind that simultaneously frightened and excited me.

After a thrilling train ride, we rushed along the glossy moss-green hallways, climbed the stairs, and began the short walk to Regents Park.  We followed the winding footpaths, the bare trees looming overhead, the wind whipping through our hair.  As the pond came into view, I began to skip, excited and anxious to meet my waddling little friends.  At the water's edge, I gently lay my bag of breadcrumbs on the ground, careful not to spill a crumb.  As I reached in to grab a handful,  I authoritatively announced to the ducks that it was breakfast time, just as she had announced to me every morning of the last year.  I carefully threw some crumbs in the water and squeaked with delight as the ducks came paddling over, heads diving through the surface of the canal, scooping up their morning feast with their little brown beaks.  I always felt it terribly unfair that the 'lady ducks' were brown and, to my young eyes, ugly.  They should be green, blue, black and cream, and beautiful like their male counterparts.  I think I threw a little more to the lady ducks to apologize for nature's injustice.

After the ducks had had their fill and our plastic bread bag was empty, we walked over to the swings where I'd fly through the air, throwing my head back and laughing, while she pushed me higher and higher, all the while holding tight to my sleeping baby sister, tucked snugly inside her coat.  In the summer months, when I was free of my wool tights and overcoat, I'd run through the soft, green grass as the sound of the ice cream van melodically announced it's arrival.  She'd ask the ice cream man for a "special cone", which he never failed to produce: a cone cut off a couple of inches from the bottom with a miniature swirl of vanilla ice cream on top.  A special treat at the close of a perfect outing.

These simple memories are some of my most treasured.  She made a loving and protective hand, a winter's walk, an underground adventure, a chat with some ducks, and a special summertime treat last almost 30 years, locked safely in my brain so that whenever I fancy it, I can close my eyes and immediately be transported to experience how it looked, sounded and felt that day in London with her.  She isn't here anymore to create new memories with, but I will always have these memories to revisit and relive - comfortable and familiar, like old friends - and the most treasured gift she could have ever given me.

Happy birthday.

The earliest photo I have with her.

Mauritius

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It feels a bit like a dream, still far enough away that it's not yet a reality.  But, whether I can believe it or not, in August we'll be moving there.  The husband is up to his eyeballs in French class, which is a constant reminder to me of how atrocious my French has become.  As he reminds me, though, I haven't spoken it in 10 years so I suppose that's allowed, but still.  I am thrilled at the prospect live in a French speaking country - to get some French back, or at least to improve it, in any way shape or form.

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As we are still 7 months away from our departure, we don't know any specifics about where we'll actually be living.  We are learning bits and pieces about our soon-to-be-home as we go, though.  In case you've never heard of Mauritius or you just don't know anything about it, it is located about 1200 miles off the Eastern coast of Africa in the Indian Ocean.  Portugese explorers discovered no indigenous people living there when they came across it in the early 1500's, but they didn't settle.  The Dutch, however, colonized it in 1598, but after unfortunately assuring that the Dodo bird (only ever found in Mauritius) was good and extinct, they deserted it and the French then colonized it in the early 1700s.  Then the British took control in the early 1800s during the Napoleonic Wars and wikipedia tells me it became an independent state as a commonwealth realm in the late 60s and a Republic within the Commonwealth in 1992.  And that's your history lesson for today!

Poor Dodo.
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French is the most widely spoken language, which I'm thrilled about.  We know that the island is small enough to drive across in about 45 minutes, and the traffic can be infuriating because - well - there's only so much room for roads.  There more than enough things to do on the island, like snorkeling, catamaran sailing, diving, swimming with dolphins, golfing, horseback riding on the beach, even horse racing at the track.  There are plentiful markets, botanical gardens, a theatre, even a couple of museums.  The dozens of high-end resorts on the island ensure that a good dinner out is never hard to find.

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But, if we find ourselves bored, we can hop over to one of the neighboring islands to see what they have to offer.  In fact, the Seychelles are just a quick 2.5 hour flight away and fall under the jurisdiction of the US Embassy, in Mauritius, and we understand that a few trips to the there will be necessary.  Here's what we might see while we're there:

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Hideous, isn't it?

We have yet to find out where we will be living, and I'd imagine we won't know that for a while.  We have been asked what our preferences are: proximity to the city or to schools, do we want a garden?, do we want a pool pool?(!?!?), do we want a garden, etc.  It's a tough decision given that C will likely only be in school for our last year there, and it's always harder to determine where you want to live if you haven't been there yet.  I'm a city lover, but if I m going to live on an island I think I'd be just fine with a beachside home...  Goodness, I've just realize how absolutely ridiculous this sounds.  It's all beautiful and wherever we live will be wonderful, I am sure!

Well this is about as much as we know at the moment, in case anyone was wondering what the latest is.  We will be organizing our flights soon - we're hoping to stop in Ireland on our way to see family and friends that we haven't seen in entirely too long, so if you're one of those people, make sure you're around at the beginning of August!

Questions about our new home?  Go ahead...I'll do my best!

Right, back to daydreaming about white beaches and unbelievably blue water...

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A New Year

2013

The year before last, I wrote a new years resolutions post.  Last year I didn't bother because - well - last year was a bit of a funny year and there wasn't all that much I felt like blogging about, as you may have noticed.  As I said in my 2011 resolutions post, I'm not that great at sticking to resolutions but I think it's an exercise well worth undertaking - or at least attempting.  This year, I've decided to include some things I've already started to incorporate in my life - some end of 2012 resolutions, you might say, to kick-start things in 2013.

1.  Get Fit
This topped my list in 2011, and I'm proud to say that I am already on that road!  Also in 2011, I posted that I wanted to learn how to run.  Don't laugh, runners, for some of us running is a challenge, typically for the un-athletic population [drops head, raises hand].  I'm married to a man who loves to run.  A 5K run in the morning?  No problem.  Full, embarrassing disclosure:  I couldn't run for 30 seconds without feeling winded.  I felt pathetic.  50 minutes on the arc or elliptical?  No problem - but running has always been a no-go.  I have begun and quit the Couch-2-5K program twice.  This October, though, I began again - I hope for the last time.  And now I can run for 30 minutes without stopping.  30 MINUTES!  That is huge for me and I feel very proud of myself and can't wait to stretch that time even longer.  My resolution is to continue - and to sign up for a 5K event.

2.  Get Back To Homeopathy
Homeo-what, says you?  About 7 years ago, my sister introduced me to homeopathy (if you live in Ireland, go see Jennifer Gordon. You can thank me later!).   Simply stated, it's the practice of taking naturally derived remedies made from the highly-diluted extracts from plants, animals, minerals,  which are prescribed to stimulate and strengthen the body’s own healing response/immune system by getting to the root of the issue, rather than simply masking/treating the symptoms.  
I was a skeptic at first, too.  But when I say that doing homeopathy has changed my life, I'm not kidding.  I used to get chronic sinusitis for YEARS.  I took more antibiotics than I care to remember and I was so tired of taking medication that either didn't work at all or didn't work for long.  Since I began homeopathy 7 years ago, I have not had ONE sinus infection.  I used to have horrible acid reflux (tmi? sorry).  For 6 years I had not a single symptom - I could eat all the spicy food, drink all the coffee, eat all the peppers I wanted, something I couldn't do for years before homeopathy. There are other things I take it for and trust and believe me when I say it has worked and is amazing.  In Ireland and the UK it's widely practiced and accepted, even by medical doctors.  It is safe to do if you're pregnant or nursing and you can take it with conventional medicine - it doesn't conflict, and it's safe for babies and children (think ADHD, etc).  
Since we moved back Stateside just over a year ago, I haven't taken any homeopathic remedies and most of my symptoms have returned. I don't feel like myself anymore, it's not fun.  So three weeks ago I called my amazing homeopath and got back in the saddle.  What I love about her, aside from her being a very gifted homeopath, is that not only is she a genuinely nice person, understanding, and easy to talk to, she is also not afraid to tell you that some things do require conventional medicine (which I also believe), but that homeopathy is a great first step in strengthening your immune system and healing.  Homeopathy truly has changed my quality of life - I encourage you to look into it (it is available in the US, as well), especially if you find yourself frustrated with conventional medicine not helping or fixing what is wrong.  

3.  Write More
I'm not a writer, per se.  I didn't study writing or major in English.  I certainly wrote my fair share of papers in college and - surprisingly - enjoyed it.  Well, most of the time.  However I like to write - even if I'm not a serious or sophisticated writer - it fulfills something in me, something I can't quite put my finger on.  So this year I will endeavor to do it more.

4. Blog More
In 2012, I wrote a whopping 5 posts.  That is pretty pitiful.  This year, I am aiming to be a more frequent blogger.  Perhaps not every day, but I hope once a week, at least.  With our big move coming up in August, I hope that this blog will become a way for you to follow our adventures in the Indian Ocean.  It also fulfills that longing I have to put some of my thoughts on (digital) paper.  So as long as you're willing to humour me and read my posts, I'll write.  

5.  Quality Time With My Family
That should be a given, I know.  I have been lucky enough to have my parents visit us three times since we moved back to the US at the end of 2011.  My sister visited last February.  However, I have not seen either of my brothers in a year and a half and I miss them - I miss them all.  The same goes for my aunts, uncles and cousins.  I hate that the passage of time means seeing less of the most important people in my life (at least in my family, that's the case).  I'm hoping to see them at least once this year.  I'm also hoping that the lure of tropical beaches and crystal clear water will lure them to our new home!

6.  Be A Better Wife and Mother
I feel like I fail, a lot, in both these categories.  Working from home part-time with a child at home full-time often leaves me feeling like I fail in the Mum-department more often than I succeed.  To discourage C from climbing all over me and my "comput-a-ter" when I'm working, I rely on technology too much to keep her occupied.  I can't take her outside for as long or as often as I want to.  But I'm working to help provide things for her that she wouldn't otherwise have.  It's a tough balance and one that I continually struggle with.  And as a wife, I know I there are so many things I can do better at.  Listening more - really listening.  Trying harder to change things I know cause stress or anxiety.  Taking time together, just the two of us, to be truly present in my marriage and not letting outside things weigh me down.  Sounds simple, right?

7.  Take More Photographs
Two years ago, before we left Ireland, my family and Patrick gave me the wonderful gift of a photography course.  I loved it - I've always loved photography but have never really done any outside the realm of point-and-shoot.  Then we moved and everything turned upside down for a while.  This year I want to take more photographs, and moving to a tropical island will afford me some beautiful new vistas to document, I'm sure.  I also want to save my pennies to get a DSLR.  :)

8.  Disconnect
It's hard to do when you work from home and your work is on your computer (never mind that you've just resolved to blog more) but I need to disconnect from the digital world more.  I'm constantly connected - on my computer, on my phone, my kindle, and the TV is more alluring now that we have AppleTV (amazing and worth every penny, in case you're wondering), and I'm a movie buff as it is so there you have a lethal combination.  But I want to spend less time plugged in and more time enjoying the things I used to enjoy before technology took over:  a good book (a proper book, that is), long walks outside - and I'm definitely going to get more crafty and creative with C. 

That covers most of my resolutions - glancing them over they're a little on the heavy side, but I suppose thats what I need in my life right now.  

What are you resolving to do in 2013?

Christmases Old and New

It's hard to believe that after weeks (months?) of anticipation, Christmas has come and gone.  It is my favourite holiday, without question.  I look forward to it each year with a childlike excitement and this year was certainly no exception.  With a three-year-old in the house, the arrival of Santa increased the excitement ten-fold - I'm not sure who was more excited, C or her parents!

I've been pondering on Christmas as we get older.  How it changes - how it has to.  I find myself longing to preserve my family's traditions of Christmases gone by, but that isn't always possible.  When you share a life with someone else, it's important not only to integrate their traditions but to create new traditions of your own.  It can take some time to find that balance and it's something I still struggle with.  I am thankful for a patient and understanding partner in life.

Christmas in America is starkly different to the Irish and English Christmases I grew up with.  Not just with the physical traditions, but in how it feels.  In Ireland (and the UK), Christmas is almost palpable in the air.  When I walk outside on an Irish December day, even the air feels festive - the smell of peat fires and crisp, icy air.  The short days force street lamps and buildings to glow with soft light in the early evenings, homes look so inviting with their Christmas trees twinkling in the windows and chimney's billowing smoke from the cozy fires below.  Christmas lights strung high give the streets a sparkling glow which makes Christmas shopping out in the cold a pleasure rather than a chore.  When your nose and cheeks become crimson with the cold, a dip into a snug little pub for a glass of mulled wine or hot port is just the thing to warm your shivering body from the inside out.

Grafton Street, Dublin - Christmas 2010

Then there's the food.  Mince pies and Christmas puddings are the Irish answer to Christmas cookies.  When Santa visits Ireland he indulges in a mince pie and a glass of sherry, and Christmas morning must begin with a full Irish breakfast to get the day off to a good start. 

Our Full Irish Breakfast from this Christmas morning.

A big, glorious turkey with stuffing, gravy, roasties, and all the sides is as essential and traditional to the Irish population as a turkey on an American Thanksgiving Day.  Christmas crackers are pulled before the feast is begun and paper crowns are donned with laughter.  Wine flows and plates empty, leaving their owners full and happy.  Tins of Roses and selection boxes are are cracked open and devoured.

Christmas morning at my parent's house in Galway - 2009.

The country as a whole seems to embrace Christmas.  Almost all businesses close their doors from Dec 24 - January 2, forcing stressed out employees to really take a break and enjoy the season.  St. Stephen's Day, or Boxing Day as it is more commonly referred to over there, is like another holiday.  My family traditionally eats a cold salad with leftovers - turkey, potato salad, pork pies, sausage rolls, you name it.  And it is delicious.

This year's Boxing Day (St. Stephen's Day) Feast!

I keep trying to figure out why I feel so strongly attached to my family and culture's traditions.  Perhaps it's because they never varied for the first 24 years of my life.  Perhaps it's because almost everyone has the same traditions over there - they all eat and drinks the same thing, so a Christmas without turkey and all the trimmings to me is like a Thanksgiving without turkey and the trimmings for most of you.  That's as good of an analogy as I can come up with.

This year, as they did last year, my in-laws indulged me by preparing turkey as part of their Christmas dinner, something I really appreciate, especially as I know it's certainly not their first choice for Christmas!  We had a very multi-cultural Christmas dinner this year:  turkey breast, Moroccan lamb stew, Panama Chicken Rice - but we had a multi-cultural gathering, too, and it was lovely to incorporate so many different culinary traditions.

Despite clinging to my childhood Christmas customs, there are many American traditions I have embraced - Christmas cookies being one!  My mother-in-law and sister-in-law are master bakers, and chocolate peppermint cookies, butter balls, cranberry and white chocolate cookies, among others, are annual staples in their Christmas kitchens.  My husband spent many a Christmas Eve eating Curried Cream of Chicken Soup from the Silver Palate Cookbook, a tradition he loves and one I'd love to adopt as our own.  We've started to watch "The Shop Around The Corner" on Christmas Eve, as we did our first Christmas together, and P is most patient with the 10,000 Christmas movies I love to watch each year.

I re-introduced P to Raymond Briggs' The Snowman, an essential part of my Childhood Christmases, and in turn he introduced me to the hilarity of The Muppets Christmas Carol, Christmas Vacation, and A Christmas Story - all classics I missed out on growing up.
                         
Like everything in a marriage, it's give and take - I have to let go of some of my old Christmas traditions and embrace new ones, and letting go is definitely not something that comes easy to me in any aspect of my life.  But in slowly letting go and embracing new traditions, I have found that our Christmases are even sweeter and more unique.  What I'm learning most, though, is that our little family being together is most important of all.  I missed being with my family as they were all together in Ireland, but being with my husband and daughter on Christmas morning and waking up, the three of us, to see C experience Santa's generous spirit was worth more than anything else put together.  I feel very blessed.

As this year draws to a close, I wish you all a healthy, happy and prosperous 2013.   I'll leave you with a traditional Irish and UK New Year's tradition - as the clock strikes midnight and we welcome the new year, cross your arms, join hands with your neighbors and sing:

Should old acquaintance be forgot,

and never brought to mind ?

Should old acquaintance be forgot,

and old lang syne ?

For auld lang syne, my dear,

for auld lang syne,

we'll take a cup of kindness yet,

for auld lang syne.

Cheers!