Happy Easter

Holidays are an odd thing, I find, living in another country. After spending years, following certain traditions and routines around Christmas and Easter, whether through food preparation, gifts, or entertaining friends or family, I find myself at a bit of a loss today on Easter Sunday. Molly is visiting for a week and she and Rick have ventured off to London to a couple of markets and a museum and I opted not to go. I thought they could use some quality father and daughter time since it has been almost 8 months since they have seen each other.

Chan is hanging out with his best friend, Sam, today. Sam’s cousin is having an egg hunt for the younger kids and the boys are going to “assist” with the event. Personally, I think it was simply a guise so that they could really romp around too. I think it doesn’t matter how old you get, there is something kinda magical about finding chocolate behind the cushions on the loveseat, on top of a picture frame, or tucked into some little crevice in the stairwell.

At our place in Canada, we had so many places in which to hide the eggs. In fact, weeks and even months later one of the kids would joyfully find a tin foiled egg or dusty jelly bean behind some sheet music on the piano, or next to a bottle of Three Habs on the infamous hot sauce shelf. My favourite thing to do for the kids was to leave an empty Easter basket outside their bedroom doors so that when they woke up on Sunday morning they would pick it up and follow the trail of treats to where their big gift would be waiting. Some new Disney movie, a Lego Transformers set, or perhaps a new spring jacket were my picks for the kids and, the solid Mr. Bunny and a Kinder surprise or two. It was always a challenge to get the kids to wait until after breakfast to start hunting for eggs. It is the one day that you would just have to say screw the rules about starting the day with a balanced meal and let them have some fun.

So before Molly arrived here on Good Friday, Rick told her that we would have an egg hunt in our backyard. Having not been here, she obviously didn’t know exactly how much smaller our home was compared to the farm in Douro so I am sure she thought it would be fun. But when she arrived and saw our postage stamp sized garden with little more than a few patio stones and a garden hose, we all laughed at how ridiculous the concept of trying to hide anything out there really was. I guess it’s the thought that counts.

Now our little English house is quiet and I am debating about whether I should take the time to hide a few eggs around the place. Sure I won’t have piano keys, family portraits, or staircases to use as hiding places but let’s face it; my life is dramatically different now than it was just one year ago.

I had no clue that come Easter 2010, I would be wandering around my two-bedroom terrace house in Dartford, Kent, putting mini cream eggs on our telly we dragged out of the rubbish, and the keyboard Rick found through an ad in the Kent Messenger, and on top of the oil paintings of Greece that I scored at my fav thrift shop.

Does it matter where they find them, even if they aren’t so obscure? Won’t the feeling of discovery still be the same? I have to think that this time it will mean more to them though not only because they won’t expect it, but because it represents something greater than Mr. Bunny or the next best Disney movie. I think what it really means is that no matter where we are in the world, we will always be a family to each other.

The long and winding road

Hello dear friends. I am sure you are wondering where I have gone. I have been meaning to update my blog and it has been on my mind daily, when I am standing on the platform at London Bridge, when I am walking across Tower Bridge and when I am sitting on the train to Dartford but by the time I get home of an evening I am pretty wiped and the blog, unfortunately, doesn't take precedent. So much has happened in the last few weeks and I have many things to share with you all, including updates on our few amazing days in Wales, but I have felt distracted.

We are at a point in our journey where we have a decision to make. It is hard to believe that it is exactly one year since Rick had his interview in Toronto for a job here in the UK. How far we have come from the job offer to renting our house and all of the other arrangements that needed to be made to make this all possible.

I feel somewhat like a wishbone spread between our new life in England and our home back in Douro. Walking to the train station this morning amongst a soft spring rain, a scent caught my attention, and it made me think of a time in my life when I was a girl and living in B.C. The pine trees were fragrant and the mist lingered amongst the mountains and I remember feeling a little like I was submerged in a dream. We had lived in Ontario for most of my childhood and our move to B.C. took a lot of adjusting, not just for me, but also for my family. The culture was different, the climate mild and moist, and our friends and family were miles away. So as I was hiking my way to catch the train this morning, this wonderful smell of pine struck me as a reminder that Douro felt so far away too and I actually missed my connection with the earth there. I miss the expansive sky, the swallows that swoop and dive as they greet me, Frank's tractor plugging up the 4th line, a crimson sky on an Autumn night, and Rick cooking up something tasty is our fabulous kitchen.

And yet, even though I do yearn for all of the things that make Douro my home, I still feel like there is something else I need to do or something else I need to experience. My temporary work at EY has been very gratifying and has stretched my HR skills and encouraged me to take more chances in my career. I am really proud of my ability to integrate into an entirely new work environment and be successful and also become a valued part of their recruiting team. I am starting to make friends and also gain a reputation as the friendly Canadian with the wacky sense of humour. I have been teaching them some of my favourite sayings like "Take off, eh" and "hose head" and "time to split this popsicle stand". Now that comes as a surprise, doesn't it?

Chan is still awesome and thrives at school. He recently received awards for Science and Music last module and I have signed him up for private piano lessons. He has discovered that he has a love of making music and the classes here have helped to support that. He fits in well with the British kids and plays football and rugby weekly. But he does miss his family back home and a year away from the people that you love can be a long time.

Rick continues to learn so many things as a first year teacher. He finds the classes of 60 students very challenging, but enjoys the concept of team teaching with two other colleagues. As with any teaching assignment, there are up's and down's and finding the right balance between the two is what he strives for.

So as I hopped on the train and flipped out a copy of the Metro for my morning read, I thought of the creaky wooden floors of Towns' General Store, sipping wine and listening to Jackson Brown on our deck, and watching the wind rustle through the tall evergreens that line our lanky driveway and I can't help but think... will our path lead us back home or will we venture onward.

Wales - Day 2 (Part 4)

Have you ever had a moment in your life when you experienced something so spectacular that you felt as though your breath had been snatched from your chest? And all you can do is cry because you’re sure you have just passed on to another life and your tears mean, no, you’re still alive and what you are seeing is very real? Well, the beach in New Gale, caught me off guard. As we hiked, over the wall of hundreds of smooth stones, my gasps turned to tears. And when I looked through the lens of my camera, I determined that I had not perished and then immediately wondered how I could possibly capture the peace, the expansiveness, the OMG I am a mere pebble in this magnificent space, in a single shot.

We picked stones of deep purple, jet black, mottled white and mossy green, and stuffed our pockets full. So many smooth and interesting patterns were found that it was hard to pass on each one that we touched. But our pockets were tight and the sun was falling on the horizon, and we wanted to be back on the road to Cardigan before dark.

Wales - Day 2 (Part 3)

With Cardiff checked off of our list of places to see this week, we headed out of the city with Rick navigating through the wacky streets.

“Where the hell is A4?” questioned the driver with Chan his trusty, yet sometimes gappy co-pilot at this side.

Our plan for the day was to head west along the coast passing Carmarthen and Pembroke and, hopefully, reaching Glouchester by night. Rick said the landscape reminded him of New Zealand with flocks of sheep dotted on the hillsides like lice. Once off of the M4, a busier and main through fare, we continued onto A477 which was more connected to the countryside. An abandoned cemetery, forests with lanky moss and ivy covered trucks, stucco houses, the Sporting Chance Pub and Restaurant and then the Olde Mill Cafe which encouraged “Gotta stop at the Cafe. Eh, Rick, eh? in conjunction with a right elbow, elbow and then “Eh, Rick, eh?

After being on the road for just over 2 hours, we pulled over for a stretch. I took a few shots of some very woolly sheep on the side of the hill and Chan slid down the muddy slope to find somewhere private to pee. Ten paper towels to clean off his sneakers and smacks from the driver for getting them so bloody mucky, we were back in business and were aiming for the docks of Pembroke along the A477.
The sign read “Carew Castle ¼ miles” which resulted in “Oh, cool there it is!” from the boy and we all turned our heads and said, “Ooohhhhh!” And to no surprise, Rick noted the free parking lot. We all agreed that we couldn’t pass on this opportunity.
“It’s like a hot chick coming in to kiss you,” Chan explained as Rick parked our car. “And you slap her saying no, not going to happen.” So we filed out of the vehicle with the boys’ analogy pressed in our minds.

I just couldn’t take enough pictures of Carew Castle. It was vacant and a mere skeleton of what it used to be years and years ago, but still captivating and somewhat eerie. Chan stood on a podium in the empty court yard and in a British accent announced, “Today ladies and gentlemen we are going to have a hanging. Not necessarily because anybody did anything bad, just because we’re bored. Do I have any volunteers?” He pointed out into his make believe audience, “You sir, you in the front!” I chuckled and applauded and he jumped down from his stage and carried on with his exploration of the castle. It made me wonder if the ghosts were amused too.

Back on the road, Rick commented on how it felt to drive on the other side. “At first it’s strange and you’re thinking that this just isn’t right,” he explained to us. “But then you say okay, I know what I’m doing and then you have to switch back and it feels strange all over again.” When I asked Rick if he drove in New Zealand, he said he would rent a car once in a while but when he lived in Australia, he would regularly drive his girlfriend’s car. When Chan asked if she was hot, Rick said, “Not particularly. But she was a fabulous person.”

“Better than mom?” Chan quizzed.

“Not nearly,” Rick replied hesitantly.

I tapped my pen on my writing pad as the boys laughed and I commented that it wasn’t exactly a compliment but nor was it a dis either. Nice going, Romeo, I added.

We continued on the A437 and we kept our eyes peeled for the ocean. When it popped into view from behind a knoll, just passed a town called Roch, Chan gasped, “Awesome. Fantastic, Rick.” Despite the fact that the road was so narrow, we still managed to find a place to pull over to get a better look. Chan hugged Rick out of excitement which resulted in Rick telling Chan to watch it, watch it as his left shoulder was sore today.

Wales - Day 2 (Part 2)

So with the 65 pounds back in our pockets, we decided to go for the all-you-can-eat buffet breakfast. Since the boy was still classified as a child, we chowed down on sausage, beans, bacon, toast, the works essentially, to fill our boots for the journey ahead, and we only had to pay for 2 adults.

After saying good bye to the hotel with the faulty smoke detectors, we stood in line at the Dr. Who exhibit, along with about 20 other pathetic fans, waiting for the doors to open at 10:00 am. Once inside, we saw costumes from episodes, moving and talking Dalek, the Tartis, the Ood, Donna Noble’s face in the stone statue from the library episode and David’s trench coat and trainers (yes, I did touch this, by the way, even though the sign said not to).

However, we seemed to almost enjoy the souvenir shop more. I snagged a pencil case with the Tartis pasted on the front and it is now probably the best makeup bag a girl could have as it is sturdy, waterproof, and well, has the Tartis on it. Rick kept eyeing a remote control Dalek. Chan was happy just to peruse the place and didn’t really want anything. Probably because we were such big kids there that he didn’t want to steal our thunder.

“How am I going to get that home,” Rick said, standing next to the box that was about 15”x 10”x 6”. And he didn’t mean Dartford. He would look at figurines, books, and plates but he was really infatuated with the Dalek. He was about to leave the shop only with the tie that he had finally settled on, when I asked if he wanted the toy for his birthday, which was the next day. To tell you the truth, I didn’t think he would really take me up on my offer. Instead, my suggestion made his eyes light up, he grinned and said, “Sure, honey that would be great.”

When I finished paying for his gift, I turned to both of the boys and chimed, “Here you go, honey. Happy Birthday” and then I passed the large package and passed it to Rick. I looked at a guy standing next to me and remarked, “I bet you thought it was for him, eh?” pointing to Chan. And we all laughed except for the humiliated teenager that replied, “Yeh, moom. It’s for me!”

With our Dr. Who fix pacified and the Dalek safely packed in the rental car, we strolled around Cardiff Bay. Now this is what we find fascinating. Not another Primark and busy streets with strollers and smoking mothers yapping at their band of dirty-faced youngsters. Instead the bay offered an array of cafes and restaurants, lovely views of the water, and civilized families taking in the sites.

What really caught my eye was a single concrete structure at least 100 feet tall that could have been nothing more than an oversized rectangle. It was softened by the water that clung to its exterior and flowed to the base from the peak and repeated the cycle so that the foot of the waterfall was merely damp. We took a photo of Channing with it flowing and glistening in the background. So pretty.

We all agreed that Cardiff was picturesque because of its interesting architecture which was a marriage of old with new. It reminded me of Vancouver where Terry and Andria, Rick’s brother and his wife, live on a harbour. They were modern buildings with a combination of brick, stone, and timber. Quite earthy yet sleek and dynamic.

Wales - Day 2 (Part 1)

6:45 am came abruptly as the smoke alarm jolted us out of our slumber. A dazed Rick struggled to find a light switch and was just about to hop onto our bed to try and deactivate the blaring Boop...OMG Boop...Bloody heck Boop, when it suddenly stopped as oddly as it had began. Chan groaned and yanked the duvet over his head, and Rick slumped back onto the bed and we were all wondering what the hell had just hit us.

“So much for sleeping in,” I said remaining under the warm covers. “We need to call the front desk and complain.”

Funny thing is last night when we checked in the gal gave us a card and said they have a goodnight guarantee. I pictured a bunch of marketing guys trying to come up with promotional ideas for the Premier Inn. After ditching the “if your towels smell like burnt paper, you get an extra facecloth for free” and the “if the hand soap is so small it washes down the drain before you had chance to wipe your knees” then some young buckshot blurts out the “you sleep or we’re in deep” concept and voila brochures are printed by the thousands. Then along came the Robbins-Teather clan (more Teather than Robbins, when it comes to outspokenness, really) Anyway, pretty sure they are going to rethink their policy after Rick was done with the manager. The offer of a free breakfast was not enough to pacify this bleary-eyed your policy is your policy customer and a refund on my credit card was promptly issued.

When Rick returned and told us how the conversation with the suited fellow went, I actually felt sorry for the employee. He was probably thinking, cool, gotta job managing a brand new hotel. What could customers possibly complain about?

“It most certainly was not the phone that woke us up,” clarified Rick when the manager struggled with the concept that a fire alarm would engage without well, a fire (smoke actually). And Rick continued, “Does the phone sound like this?” And in his loudest voice (and anyone that knows Rick knows what loud truly means) made the sound of the alarm that snapped us out of bed. “Boop...Boop...Boop!” he called out in the hotel lobby at 7 am. Nope, free breakfast was not gonna cut it.

Back to the drawing board, buckshot.

Wales - Day 1 (Part 2)

Bristol was disappointing. It was more modern than we had expected. Not a quaint and historical English town that we tend to gravitate towards. Although, we stopped at a Premier Inn to check out the rooms, the price was good at 65 pounds but were just weren’t feeling excited and decided to move on. We had Bath in mind, but navigating through England, as we have learned is tricky. Streets are not clearly marked and one streets turns into another in a flash. So instead of heading south to Bath, we ended up heading north, from where we first came into Bristol and in a fit of frustration for missing the signs, Rick made the call to carry on to Cardiff. We were heading there anyway.

Getting to Cardiff didn’t involve taking a ferry after all. Instead we crossed a long bridge that curved like a smile along the bay. Once in the city we found another Premier Inn just on the outskirts. They were all booked up but they did have rooms at their downtown location, which opened only two weeks ago. I like the sound of that. No old and lumpy mattresses to endure. I am sadly the Princess and the Pea when it comes to sleeping on a less than comfortable bed. Before going ahead and booking the first place that was available, we decided to get some supper at the restaurant next door and boot up Channing’s computer to search for other options. After a couple of phone calls, we liked the Premier Inn even more as the other places were charging upwards of 90 pounds per night.

Trying to land a parking spot on the downtown street, however, entailed circling the block at least 3 times while incorporating cutting over a curb, travelling in a bus lane, pulling into a spot that is marked for taxi’s only, and Rick telling “Buddy” to get off his tail, before scoring a space in front of the hotel. Keep in mind that there was a parking lot that was easily accessible from the hotel but that would have cost us 10 pounds and the street parking was free overnight and about 3 pounds for half a day. What can I say? Rick is thrifty.

We hit the sack early and hoped for bit of a sleep in as our plan for Tuesday was to get to the Dr. Who exhibition when it opened at 10 am.