The Deer Stalker...

I just finished reading a great book about human paranoia, Risk: The Science and Politics of Fear.  Things like this really make me think about what glorious yet strange creatures we human beings are - not in a 'gospel truth' kind of way but more like an Alice in Wonderland perspective on the things that happen every day that go almost unnoticed.

In reading the last chapter on the train today, I was struck by a rather pithy statement, the kind you find on high school exam papers followed by the word Discuss:

We listen to iPods, read the newspaper, watch television, work on computers, and fly around the world using brains beautifully adapted to picking berries and stalking antelope.

It struck me as a great way to sum up life...let me explain:

There are times for gathering berries, lots of berries.  Sometimes it's the same berry.  Other times, lots of different berries are the order of the day, and it's important to skip promiscuously between, around and/or over said berries depending on mood, time of day/ month, sobriety and youthful sense of abandonment (the latter not being restricted to the young alone).

Then there is stalking.  You know, when one's head and heart are filled with dreams of the perfect partner/ house/ children/ job/ car/ holiday/ clothes/ hair/ position in life and this is faithfully pursued with diligence and relentless discipline, silently (or not) and purposefully...

But I have to say that I think there are some wires crossed...I seem to spend my time stalking lots of berries and picking indiscriminately through the antelope!

It explains so much...

Hot To Trot...Maybe Not

Well, here we are at the 10th of April already, we have just enjoyed two weeks of glorious weather here in Ol' Blighty and there's been a whole lotta blue skies, sunshine, short sleeves and bare legs around. 

Sitting at my front window watching my washing drying happily (bet you didn't know washing could be happy) and listening to the birds singing and the bees bouncing (there is a massive hairy bee trying to get in through my closed window - right next to the open door - he's not the sharpest tool in the shed, this bee), I wondered how my kith and kin were faring on the under other side of the world.  Facebook updates of late have not been full of sunshine to say the least.

Upon investigation (it's Sunday and I am avoiding ironing by finding such things as this to keep me 'busy'), I have discovered that Melbourne (where I hail from) is looking forward to drizzle and a top temperature of 17C...it is April and my home-town is about halfway through its Autumnal segue into Winter so this is not unexpected. 

But London's temperatures have soared (ok so I use the term a little loosely) into the 20s this week and this unexpected burst of 'hot' weather not only upset my 'what-to-wear-to-work' planning (summer-y items get packed away for the Winter - much like a family of bears - in a suitcase or in the ironing - not the bears you understand, they are probably in a cave somewhere) but also played havoc with yesterday's Grand National field at Aintree. 

Today we are set to reach 19C (and 21C tomorrow)...

- which is more than Melbourne...and Adelaide...and Canberra! And is alarmingly close to Sydney's 22C...

Truly a moment for we Aussies (from those southern states anyway) to savour...

Until it all comes to a screeching halt on Tuesday with a forecast top of 12C...hmmm perhaps I'll wait a little longer to unpack/iron those summer threads.

Mothers...People To Make Leaning Unnecessary

Here we are at Mother's Day Number One for 2011 and while for me (and probably lots of other Aussie and Yankee expats) the REAL Mother's Day will be in May, honouring my fabulous Mum twice is certainly no chore!

American writer Dorothy Canfield Fisher wrote:

A mother is not a person to lean on but a person to make leaning unnecessary.

and this sums up my Mum for me.  In fact so much so that now I'm all grown up, I've had to be reminded quite recently that a little leaning on my part is actually quite a restorative thing and good for the soul - by none other than Mum herself (still so wise, right?)

So I wanted to honour this feeling and after some digging around, found this perfect quote (courtesy of a sentimental yet anonymous soul):

  

When you're a child she walks before you,

To set an example.

When you're a teenager she walks behind you

To be there should you need her.

When you're an adult she walks beside you
So that as two friends you can enjoy life together.

Happy Mother's Day...

Expat... Born or Bred?

On one of my especially long commutes home this week (3hrs!) I stumbled across a blog, Adventures in Expat Land by 'accompanying wife' Linda from The Netherlands.  As I sat on the top deck of the number 14 bus (having been ejected from King's Cross Station after a 'reported emergency' with the rest of London's peak-hour commuters and then walking 20mins to get on said bus), her post Seven Reasons Not To Become An Expat struck a chord...

It can be fun. And exciting, educational, eye-opening, energizing, amazing.

It can also be uprooting, disruptive, alienating, challenging, lonely and just plain hard work.

It made me ponder my 7+ years here in the UK and the highs and lows of my own expat life: exhilaration laced with fear, hope combined (in a shaken not stirred kind of way) with desperation and contentment hand in hand with loneliness and as I peered down from my perch high above the crowded streets, I wondered to myself 'would I have come at all if I'd listened to the sage advice and read the sensible tips about moving overseas?'

I knew no-one here and had no job (just some leftover redundancy package money) but buoyed by fierce determination and an unrelenting belief that it was where I was meant to be, I packed up my comfortable Melbourne life and started again.  Just like I did many times over as we moved up and down the east coast of Australia and around Melbourne, changing schools, jobs, friends, creating new habits and leaving the comfortable predictability of old ones.

But then so did my sister...who stays happily ensconsed in Australia with not so much as a twinkle of expat life in her eye.

Which then leads me to wonder whether an expat is 'born' a nomad rather than being a product of their upbringing.  You know, nature vs nurture and all that.  Bit like a personality flaw trait. 

So are expats actually born or bred?  And what's the difference between those that up sticks and settle somewhere else vs the constantly relocating expatriate lifer?

Does anyone know?

ps...and if you even have a inkling that you might like to try on 'expat life', you should read Linda's post for yourself by clicking here...or not...