There we were all curled up in J's newly decorated Australian bedroom. Stories were finished, songs were sung, Little Murphy was being hugged to his chest. It was those last few sweet innocent moments before sleep drooped his wee eyelids. He looked at me all drowsy and adorable:
J: "Mummy what was your favorite toy as a little kid and as a grownup"
Me: "Hmm, probably the little plastic German Shepard I took everywhere since I wanted a real one. And as a grownup, ummmm, maybe my iPod Touch"
J: "My favorite toy is Little Murphy"
Me walking out of the room: "I know" Reveling in the beauty of his childhood innocence, I am now out the door.
From his bed, I hear muttered wickedly.
J: "But my favorite toy when I'm grown up will be my credit card!"
He is his Grandmother's boy!
Thursday, 31 March 2011
Thursday, 24 March 2011
Welcome to Fall
It's March 24 in Melbourne and it has been Fall for two weeks now. It feels odd, out-of-kilter; March should be warm breezes, snowdrops poking their heads through the ground, and the last few frantic weeks of skiing. Fall here feels an awful lot like Summer anywhere else.
I have been told that Melbourne, more than any other city in Australia experiences the closest thing to four seasons (which can sometimes happen in a single day). Most of the country is tropical or desert-like, but Melbourne, being slightly inland and on an ocean bay feels more temperate and less prone to extreme temperatures. If this is Fall, I'm curious to experience Winter. J's school only issues light jackets for warmth so I'm thinking Winter may be rather delightful to this Canadian-girl-still-recovering-six-years later-from-brutal-Calgary-winters.
We are out of boxes now and feeling more settled. Murphy is doing well, J is enjoying school, C2 isn't travelling, I've figured my way around, and mum has booked her ticket to visit so all is well with my world at the moment. If only I could figure out how to stop the bats from pooping all over my front terrace at night, things would be pretty perfect. Though confronted with the horror of the tsunami in Japan, the growing violence in Libya, and a questionable western foreign policy where our leaders never seem to take heed of historical lessons, bat poop seems pretty inconsequential.
J's first school term ends in two weeks and I need to book a Murphy-friendly family holiday. I'm thinking about a trip down the Great Ocean Road stopping in Apollo Bay for a few days and visiting some of the world's great surf beaches. Some hiking, some surf-watching, some beach exploring, and some good eating sounds pretty great to me. I'll post details and pictures.
I have been told that Melbourne, more than any other city in Australia experiences the closest thing to four seasons (which can sometimes happen in a single day). Most of the country is tropical or desert-like, but Melbourne, being slightly inland and on an ocean bay feels more temperate and less prone to extreme temperatures. If this is Fall, I'm curious to experience Winter. J's school only issues light jackets for warmth so I'm thinking Winter may be rather delightful to this Canadian-girl-still-recovering-six-years later-from-brutal-Calgary-winters.
We are out of boxes now and feeling more settled. Murphy is doing well, J is enjoying school, C2 isn't travelling, I've figured my way around, and mum has booked her ticket to visit so all is well with my world at the moment. If only I could figure out how to stop the bats from pooping all over my front terrace at night, things would be pretty perfect. Though confronted with the horror of the tsunami in Japan, the growing violence in Libya, and a questionable western foreign policy where our leaders never seem to take heed of historical lessons, bat poop seems pretty inconsequential.
J's first school term ends in two weeks and I need to book a Murphy-friendly family holiday. I'm thinking about a trip down the Great Ocean Road stopping in Apollo Bay for a few days and visiting some of the world's great surf beaches. Some hiking, some surf-watching, some beach exploring, and some good eating sounds pretty great to me. I'll post details and pictures.
Friday, 11 March 2011
The Well-Travelled Dog
It has been five days and I have yet to find the words to describe how complete I feel now that Murphy is back with us. It hasn't been the easiest of days, however, as she came out of quarantine clearly psychologically traumatized. She was uneasy on walks, stiff and uncomfortable after short bouts of exercise, slightly aloof, and demonstrating moments of incontinence. All things completely unlike her.
Murphy and baby J Calgary 2003
A quick trip to the vet, some meds, a lot of affection and TLC later, and a few days have put right most of her anxiety, but I still watch her with concern. Why why why don't dogs live longer lives. However, the fact that she has made it this far means that I will devote much energy to ensuring her a comfortable and happy life for how ever many years she has left. Have I mentioned that I love this dog???
With her two favorite guys Calgary 2004
Unless you are a dog person and I mean REALLY a dog person, I cannot explain the joy brought from her constant companionship. Murphy follows me from room to room quietly, unobtrusively, content only in my presence. She looks at every man passed on a walk to check for C2; her disappointment palpable when proven mistaken, her delight physical if she finds him. I'm not sure that she will completely recover from her experience until C2 returns from his long trip to Western Australia.
Murphy in Stresa, Italy 2006
C2, J, and Murphy Levanto, Italy 2006
Unlike Geneva, she is allowed into the schoolyard at J's new school in Melbourne. She happily wiggles from child to child seeking pats and attention but always, always on the lookout for J. The other day, I turned away to chat with my new Pilates friend, Magella, and Murphy wandered into the after-school care program looking for him. Most embarressing...especially after she found the cookie stash.
J and Murphy Aix-en-Provence, France 2007
J and Murphy Puplinge, Switzerland 2007
Unless you are a dog person and I mean REALLY a dog person, you cannot feel the warmth and contentment from the trust and unconditional love of a dog, her unwavering gaze as you move about your business. The sound of her happy sighs after a good walk, her dinner, or a treat of grilled salmon skin. The frito smell of her feet as she rolls on her back during a good belly rub always brings a smile to my face.
Murphy Les Gets, France 2008
On the shores of Lake Geneva 2009
Murphy is a part of our family, a meaningful and real member. We plan our vacations so that she can be included. Living in Europe for the last five years meant that we drove on most holidays and we always chose places where she could join us. Experience taught me that renting Provence and Tuscany villas meant sourcing places with stairs into the pool for her. She has been to Lago Maggiore on both the Swiss and Italian sides; to Burgundy, France; the French Alps; Cinque Terre (five times); Tuscany; Provence, the French Ardeche, and throughout much of Switzerland.
Les Gets France with J 2010
Tuscany, Italy 2010
Murphy is a well-travelled dog. She was born in 1998 in Kingston, Ontario and at 8 weeks of age, we flew her to join us in Calgary. She has been travelling ever since, from the foothills of Alberta, to the Rockies in eastern British Columbia, across the Atlantic Ocean to Switzerland, and now after the longest journey of her life, to Melbourne Australia.
On St. Kilda beach, Melbourne on the first day of freedom following her release from quarantine,
March 2011
Unless you are a dog person and I mean REALLY a dog person, you will think I am waxing nonsense, but if you are, you get it.
Friday, 25 February 2011
Australia Week 4-3/4
Much to report during the last 10 days or so.
Let's start with Murphy who thankfully seems to have recovered well from those hot hot days last week. She has a new neighbour, some kind of mastiff-cross whom I have named "She-who-needs-to-take-a-chill-pill".
"She-who-needs-to-take-a-chill-pill" and Murphy's neighbour on her other side "Boo-from-Revelstoke" (only people familiar with the Royal Canadian Air Farce and Mike-from-Canmore will get this reference), spent the day barking madly at one another across her kennel; each one setting the other off time and again. Poor geriatric Murphy looked at me with a martyred expression as if to say "those younguns have been doing that for days now, can you please make them stop!" She's ready to come home and I am more than ready to welcome her.
Eight more days...
Next, we happily received our sea shipment which finally cleared inspection and quarantine. I remember clearly C2 commenting as we were preparing to leave Geneva:
"We have next to nothing to ship...what do we have? A couple of beds, a dining room set and some living room furniture". I laughed at his righteous certainty.
Remember that six years ago, we left a 3000 square foot house in Calgary for a 2000 square foot house in Geneva and have now taken occupancy of a roughly 1500 square foot house in Melbourne. You do the math. Day 3 post-shipment and our house still look like a hurricane hit it. Hope to make more progress this weekend before C2 leaves for a 3 week sojourn to Western Australia.
One interesting tidbit to setting up the new house...now don't get grossed out people. In Geneva, we never had our lovely carpets professionally cleaned as the average cost was in excess of 300 CHF per item. My succession of crappy vacuums also left much to be desired. So imagine 5 years of dogs and cats, less than stellar though frequent vacuuuming, and 8 weeks stored in an airtight container. Suffice it to say that the perfume of wet dog and musty dust isn't entirely masked by mandarine-cranberry candles.
On the J front, things are much improved. Nascent friendships are budding and the school appears to have taken my complaints seriously and have addressed the bullying issue thus far to my satisfaction. I am increasingly impressed with the school; with their celebration of multiculturalism and multilinguism as well as their progressive pedagogy.
With respect to our social life, last Sunday, we drove to Portsea, a tiny seaside town sandwiched between the calm and passive "front" bay beaches of Port Philip Bay, and the wild rip-filled 25 foot wave crashing "back" or open sea beaches. We spent the day with Kellie and her family. Jack and I ran up giant sand dunes at the back beach and got knocked off our feet by a powerful incoming wave while standing watching them. Much fun was had. I think I have found a kindred champagne drinker to boot!
This evening, we had drinks with our charming neighbours, Michael and Ann, native Melbournites who welcomed us into their home for a lovely couple of hours of gin and tonics, and conversation.
All in all, a pretty good report I'd say. Stay tuned...
Let's start with Murphy who thankfully seems to have recovered well from those hot hot days last week. She has a new neighbour, some kind of mastiff-cross whom I have named "She-who-needs-to-take-a-chill-pill".
"She-who-needs-to-take-a-chill-pill" and Murphy's neighbour on her other side "Boo-from-Revelstoke" (only people familiar with the Royal Canadian Air Farce and Mike-from-Canmore will get this reference), spent the day barking madly at one another across her kennel; each one setting the other off time and again. Poor geriatric Murphy looked at me with a martyred expression as if to say "those younguns have been doing that for days now, can you please make them stop!" She's ready to come home and I am more than ready to welcome her.
Eight more days...
Next, we happily received our sea shipment which finally cleared inspection and quarantine. I remember clearly C2 commenting as we were preparing to leave Geneva:
"We have next to nothing to ship...what do we have? A couple of beds, a dining room set and some living room furniture". I laughed at his righteous certainty.
Remember that six years ago, we left a 3000 square foot house in Calgary for a 2000 square foot house in Geneva and have now taken occupancy of a roughly 1500 square foot house in Melbourne. You do the math. Day 3 post-shipment and our house still look like a hurricane hit it. Hope to make more progress this weekend before C2 leaves for a 3 week sojourn to Western Australia.
One interesting tidbit to setting up the new house...now don't get grossed out people. In Geneva, we never had our lovely carpets professionally cleaned as the average cost was in excess of 300 CHF per item. My succession of crappy vacuums also left much to be desired. So imagine 5 years of dogs and cats, less than stellar though frequent vacuuuming, and 8 weeks stored in an airtight container. Suffice it to say that the perfume of wet dog and musty dust isn't entirely masked by mandarine-cranberry candles.
On the J front, things are much improved. Nascent friendships are budding and the school appears to have taken my complaints seriously and have addressed the bullying issue thus far to my satisfaction. I am increasingly impressed with the school; with their celebration of multiculturalism and multilinguism as well as their progressive pedagogy.
With respect to our social life, last Sunday, we drove to Portsea, a tiny seaside town sandwiched between the calm and passive "front" bay beaches of Port Philip Bay, and the wild rip-filled 25 foot wave crashing "back" or open sea beaches. We spent the day with Kellie and her family. Jack and I ran up giant sand dunes at the back beach and got knocked off our feet by a powerful incoming wave while standing watching them. Much fun was had. I think I have found a kindred champagne drinker to boot!
This evening, we had drinks with our charming neighbours, Michael and Ann, native Melbournites who welcomed us into their home for a lovely couple of hours of gin and tonics, and conversation.
All in all, a pretty good report I'd say. Stay tuned...
Friday, 18 February 2011
End of Week 3
It's Friday night and we've just finished dinner. A roast chicken bought from the free-range organic chicken vendor on our high street and roquette salad. Outside at dusk, to the scent of mandarin-cranberry candles on the dinner table, we chased possums through the trees with flashlights, then threw our heads back to witness a lengthy flight of fruit bats or flying foxes soaring overhead. Flying foxes are an impressive species. According to Wikipedia, "On average, P. vampyrus is the largest species, with a wingspan of up to 6 feet (1.83 meters) but a weight of only 1.5 kg (3.3 lb.).
J had a rough week at school, his second full week morphed from his first week marred by bullying from the same boy he had initially befriended during his first few days of friend seeking. To his credit, he recognized and acknowledged our initial trepidation of that child and sought out the boy's mother to complain of his treatment. It didn't stop the bullying and by the middle of this week, I had to formally complain to his teachers. Not a great way to start a new school and there were many tearful days this week.
However, today, seemed a turning point. Today, he marched into school without tears triumphantly grasping his first birthday party invitation; always a measure of a child's acceptance amongst his peers. I exchanged dinner invitations with the first family who extended immediate kindness to us in the school yard, a French-Australian couple by the name of Marco and Marie-Pierre whose 6-year old daughter Amely is in the same CEP/CE1 class as J.
It was another very hot day today, hitting 35c in the parking lot of the quarantine kennel. Murphy was not dealing well with the heat. I found her subdued and a little gurgly today. That is concerning since the facility is dealing with an outbreak of kennel cough. I took her to a grooming room for a good brushing and she was clearly desperate for a walk. Poor girl, she is confined to her kennel and away from the exercise yards due to the kennel cough issue. I left her this afternoon unusually passive and not her usual self. Not a great way to spend 4 days apart, sigh. Still, one of the principal attendants, checked on her twice today owing to my concern and promised to check on her regularly over the weekend. Hopefully, it is just a heat thing, and a forecasted cooler weekend should help. At 12 years old and confined to a kennel, I fret over her physical and mental health. Thunderstorms are also predicted which she hates, and I abhor the idea of her enduring them alone.
16 days and counting...
J had a rough week at school, his second full week morphed from his first week marred by bullying from the same boy he had initially befriended during his first few days of friend seeking. To his credit, he recognized and acknowledged our initial trepidation of that child and sought out the boy's mother to complain of his treatment. It didn't stop the bullying and by the middle of this week, I had to formally complain to his teachers. Not a great way to start a new school and there were many tearful days this week.
However, today, seemed a turning point. Today, he marched into school without tears triumphantly grasping his first birthday party invitation; always a measure of a child's acceptance amongst his peers. I exchanged dinner invitations with the first family who extended immediate kindness to us in the school yard, a French-Australian couple by the name of Marco and Marie-Pierre whose 6-year old daughter Amely is in the same CEP/CE1 class as J.
It was another very hot day today, hitting 35c in the parking lot of the quarantine kennel. Murphy was not dealing well with the heat. I found her subdued and a little gurgly today. That is concerning since the facility is dealing with an outbreak of kennel cough. I took her to a grooming room for a good brushing and she was clearly desperate for a walk. Poor girl, she is confined to her kennel and away from the exercise yards due to the kennel cough issue. I left her this afternoon unusually passive and not her usual self. Not a great way to spend 4 days apart, sigh. Still, one of the principal attendants, checked on her twice today owing to my concern and promised to check on her regularly over the weekend. Hopefully, it is just a heat thing, and a forecasted cooler weekend should help. At 12 years old and confined to a kennel, I fret over her physical and mental health. Thunderstorms are also predicted which she hates, and I abhor the idea of her enduring them alone.
16 days and counting...
Tuesday, 8 February 2011
Grateful
Today was a day where I thanked my lucky stars, celebrated every bit of good karma, wished hard on a wish bone, and felt gratitude way deep into my soul.
Last Friday morning, J had a rough start at school being transferred three times into different classes. He was stoic but tearful. I fretted all day that his initial nervous excitement would be dampened but he emerged at 3:30 smiling and happy. He has shown nothing but gumption, positive energy, and optimism through all of the last several weeks. He finds beauty in everything he sees, is eager, brave, funny, profound, insightful, and I have learned much from him this week.
I worried all that day about Murphy's long journey through the day, night, and international date line. From Geneva to Amsterdam to Kuala Lumpur and finally to Melbourne. Surely, some critical document would go missing, a file misplaced, a flight delayed or missed. But thankfully that night both C2, from Perth, and my Murphy flew into Melbourne on the tail of the immense Cyclone Yasi; they landed late but safely. At last, we were all in the same city again, though separated by quarantine for 30 days. I feel like I exhaled for the first time in months.
Quarantine has very strict visitation rules and today was the earliest I was allowed to visit. I mustered all my backbone (no left-side driving was going to get in my way today!), and drove to the far side of Port Philip Bay to the rather dodgy area of Spotswood. I was there at 10:20 for the 11:00 opening. They took pity on me and let me visit my girl right away (sshh don't tell anyone, or that I convinced them to let me spend extra hours with her during the week). She was so happy to see me, she didn't stop crying and whining for several minutes. Then she happily let me throw her kong for her to chase before taking me into a little protected area to show me her bed. The whole experience was somewhat reminiscent of a Prison Break episode, but truth be told, Murphy appears much better than I expected. I am dancing from one foot to the next in anticipation of her emancipation so that we can celebrate with a long walk on the beach.
Finally today I was grateful that I drove from Spotswood to downtown, without so much as blinking (though not so grateful for the $20/hour parking charge), to meet a friend of Sher's (from my Geneva Writers Group) for lunch at the Oriental Cafe. She was funny and effusive and welcoming. A lot like our initial impressions of Melbourne.
Last Friday morning, J had a rough start at school being transferred three times into different classes. He was stoic but tearful. I fretted all day that his initial nervous excitement would be dampened but he emerged at 3:30 smiling and happy. He has shown nothing but gumption, positive energy, and optimism through all of the last several weeks. He finds beauty in everything he sees, is eager, brave, funny, profound, insightful, and I have learned much from him this week.
I worried all that day about Murphy's long journey through the day, night, and international date line. From Geneva to Amsterdam to Kuala Lumpur and finally to Melbourne. Surely, some critical document would go missing, a file misplaced, a flight delayed or missed. But thankfully that night both C2, from Perth, and my Murphy flew into Melbourne on the tail of the immense Cyclone Yasi; they landed late but safely. At last, we were all in the same city again, though separated by quarantine for 30 days. I feel like I exhaled for the first time in months.
Quarantine has very strict visitation rules and today was the earliest I was allowed to visit. I mustered all my backbone (no left-side driving was going to get in my way today!), and drove to the far side of Port Philip Bay to the rather dodgy area of Spotswood. I was there at 10:20 for the 11:00 opening. They took pity on me and let me visit my girl right away (sshh don't tell anyone, or that I convinced them to let me spend extra hours with her during the week). She was so happy to see me, she didn't stop crying and whining for several minutes. Then she happily let me throw her kong for her to chase before taking me into a little protected area to show me her bed. The whole experience was somewhat reminiscent of a Prison Break episode, but truth be told, Murphy appears much better than I expected. I am dancing from one foot to the next in anticipation of her emancipation so that we can celebrate with a long walk on the beach.
Finally today I was grateful that I drove from Spotswood to downtown, without so much as blinking (though not so grateful for the $20/hour parking charge), to meet a friend of Sher's (from my Geneva Writers Group) for lunch at the Oriental Cafe. She was funny and effusive and welcoming. A lot like our initial impressions of Melbourne.
Tuesday, 1 February 2011
The Australian Welcoming Committee and Part of My Heart Gets on a Plane Today
We are well into our second full week down under and things continue to move slooowly but surely ahead. C2 has been been travelling for about a week now but J and I have been managing. We took the tram from our high street up to Glenferrie Road about a kilometre away to wander it's busy high street. Another day, we took the tram all the way downtown and spent a couple of hours at the magnificent Melbourne Aquarium and then wandered a bit around downtown before stopping for coffee in one of Melbourne's famous laneways, Degreves St., for a coffee and lemon tart. Don't call a tart a pie or you'll get something of the savoury variety. Pie is savoury, tart is sweet.
We've also visited the beach a couple of times, and today spent the day with Kellie, the sister of Sheila's great friend Gina, at the Prahan market, a wonderful fruit and veg destination and a Melbourne landmark. Then she made me drive around our end of town, practicing right turns and pointing out furniture and appliance stores.
It has been HOT!!! to put an emphasis on it. Hovering around 40+ degrees for the last several days. We've largely been immune to it at the beach or in the car, or at the mall (getting hair cuts and school shoes) but upon returning to Kel's today, my car thermostat was stuck solidly at 40c. J insisted on going to the park in front of her house, I limped over beside his quivering little body and posited myself on a bench while J played like it was no big deal. At precisely 2:34pm, however, I perked up to feel a cool breeze pass over me, and a very very brisk wind. And just like that, the temperature plummeted to a civilized 26c. Melbourne is apparently like that.
I had been warned about the spiders and snakes in Australia. We know to be particularly watchful for the redback spider, and in general to give all of them a wide berth. Poor J exited his bath this morning, reached for his towel, dropped it and hollered for me. This is the fellow we trapped and carefully tossed from our balcony watching him gracefully spin his web down to the ground. To provide some idea of size, Spidezilla was the full size of my hand. J made sure he was dressed properly for Spidezilla's forced removal from the bathroom.
All good thoughts, wishes, prayers or whatever positive energy you can muster would be appreciated over the course of the next 48 hours. Murphy gets on a plane today from Geneva bound for Melbourne via Amsterdam and Kuala Lumpur. I am resigned to live with what will be but a big part of my heart is getting on that plane today. Watch this space.
We've also visited the beach a couple of times, and today spent the day with Kellie, the sister of Sheila's great friend Gina, at the Prahan market, a wonderful fruit and veg destination and a Melbourne landmark. Then she made me drive around our end of town, practicing right turns and pointing out furniture and appliance stores.
It has been HOT!!! to put an emphasis on it. Hovering around 40+ degrees for the last several days. We've largely been immune to it at the beach or in the car, or at the mall (getting hair cuts and school shoes) but upon returning to Kel's today, my car thermostat was stuck solidly at 40c. J insisted on going to the park in front of her house, I limped over beside his quivering little body and posited myself on a bench while J played like it was no big deal. At precisely 2:34pm, however, I perked up to feel a cool breeze pass over me, and a very very brisk wind. And just like that, the temperature plummeted to a civilized 26c. Melbourne is apparently like that.
I had been warned about the spiders and snakes in Australia. We know to be particularly watchful for the redback spider, and in general to give all of them a wide berth. Poor J exited his bath this morning, reached for his towel, dropped it and hollered for me. This is the fellow we trapped and carefully tossed from our balcony watching him gracefully spin his web down to the ground. To provide some idea of size, Spidezilla was the full size of my hand. J made sure he was dressed properly for Spidezilla's forced removal from the bathroom.
All good thoughts, wishes, prayers or whatever positive energy you can muster would be appreciated over the course of the next 48 hours. Murphy gets on a plane today from Geneva bound for Melbourne via Amsterdam and Kuala Lumpur. I am resigned to live with what will be but a big part of my heart is getting on that plane today. Watch this space.
Monday, 24 January 2011
Our First Week Down Under
In general, our first week as been pretty good, fantastic 28+ sunny days, cool mornings and evenings. Our long plane journey from Victoria to Vancouver to Los Angeles to the 14-hour non-stop to Melbourne was completely fine. We all slept adequately enough to hit the ground running. Rented a car with C2 behind the wheel accompanied by my constant refrain of 'keep left keep left'. We found the estate agent, got our house keys and headed Home.
The reality of our new Home, thankfully, is better than our scant memories. Lovely old house with soaring ceilings, architectural moldings and arches, and large-scale rooms which are perfect since this is a fairly small house. The neighbourhood seems great, our street is quiet and populated by gorgeous old homes with one end adjacent to the Hedgley Dean gardens. These gardens are like walking through a tropical botanical park. The other end of our street is Burke Road, our high street, and also a major throughway, but across it is Central Park. This amazing place has a running oval, off-leash dog park, play park, gardens, fountain, conservatory, and all of next week is hosting 'Jazz in the Gardens'.
Most of our first week has been caught up in the 'hurry up and wait' phase (to quote my good friend Melissa). Hours spent at Telstra trying to ride the red tape and 100 points of identification necessary to open accounts for phone lines, internet, mobiles, cable. Opening our bank account was easy by comparison.
C2 has been doing most of the driving as we get used to driving in the right-hand side of the car on the left-hand side of the road. Yesterday, however, I figured I should get at it since it was a 'quiet' Sunday. Apparently 'quiet' Sundays only exist in Switzerland, Sunday in Australia is more like a day at Nascar. It wasn't completely pretty and there was a lot of tense intakes of breath from C2 but it was a first step. Biggest problem for me is how large the left hand side of the car seems when the wheel is on the right.
We've discovered during our exploring of this part of Melbourne that we live about a 13-minute drive to the main strip of beaches on Philip Bay. Yesterday, we spent from 3:00-5:00 at the beach much to J's delight, and in spite of 30+ sunscreen and hats still managed to burn the bits that were not fully blocked. Guess the sun really is incredibly strong down under.
C2 went to the office for the first time today, turns out it is about a 30-minute commute. Long by our historical standards but overall not too bad. I spent the morning making lists and priorities. Glancing at it now, I haven't checked much off of it yet. J needs to go back to school, he is getting cagey and stir-crazy. He has been a great sport through everything but hasn't played with another kid his own age in almost 6 weeks. I think I am starting to bore him, and a bit of lego-building frustration almost sent him over the edge.
POSTSCRIPT
Today is Day 6 for us Down Under, and in the spirit of all things Australian, on the menu for dinner tonight chez les Hendricks: Kanga Bangas...yep you read it right and they weren't half bad!
The reality of our new Home, thankfully, is better than our scant memories. Lovely old house with soaring ceilings, architectural moldings and arches, and large-scale rooms which are perfect since this is a fairly small house. The neighbourhood seems great, our street is quiet and populated by gorgeous old homes with one end adjacent to the Hedgley Dean gardens. These gardens are like walking through a tropical botanical park. The other end of our street is Burke Road, our high street, and also a major throughway, but across it is Central Park. This amazing place has a running oval, off-leash dog park, play park, gardens, fountain, conservatory, and all of next week is hosting 'Jazz in the Gardens'.
Most of our first week has been caught up in the 'hurry up and wait' phase (to quote my good friend Melissa). Hours spent at Telstra trying to ride the red tape and 100 points of identification necessary to open accounts for phone lines, internet, mobiles, cable. Opening our bank account was easy by comparison.
C2 has been doing most of the driving as we get used to driving in the right-hand side of the car on the left-hand side of the road. Yesterday, however, I figured I should get at it since it was a 'quiet' Sunday. Apparently 'quiet' Sundays only exist in Switzerland, Sunday in Australia is more like a day at Nascar. It wasn't completely pretty and there was a lot of tense intakes of breath from C2 but it was a first step. Biggest problem for me is how large the left hand side of the car seems when the wheel is on the right.
We've discovered during our exploring of this part of Melbourne that we live about a 13-minute drive to the main strip of beaches on Philip Bay. Yesterday, we spent from 3:00-5:00 at the beach much to J's delight, and in spite of 30+ sunscreen and hats still managed to burn the bits that were not fully blocked. Guess the sun really is incredibly strong down under.
C2 went to the office for the first time today, turns out it is about a 30-minute commute. Long by our historical standards but overall not too bad. I spent the morning making lists and priorities. Glancing at it now, I haven't checked much off of it yet. J needs to go back to school, he is getting cagey and stir-crazy. He has been a great sport through everything but hasn't played with another kid his own age in almost 6 weeks. I think I am starting to bore him, and a bit of lego-building frustration almost sent him over the edge.
POSTSCRIPT
Today is Day 6 for us Down Under, and in the spirit of all things Australian, on the menu for dinner tonight chez les Hendricks: Kanga Bangas...yep you read it right and they weren't half bad!
Friday, 14 January 2011
Next Chapter
It's Friday morning, C2 returns tonight from his trip to the U.S. The weather looks ok so not anticipating our usual weather delays. We have the weekend in Victoria with Phil, Marge, and my mum; and then C2, J, and I embark on our next chapter.
There is much to do in the coming days, we depart for Melbourne January 17, arrive on January 19, must collect keys from the house agent and open our new house. Feels a little odd since we only actually visited this house for about 10 minutes and largely forget what it looks like. Is there a downstairs bathroom? Is there an upstairs shower? How big was the garage? We've got to get bank accounts opened, money transferred, two cars and GPSs purchased, and figure out how to get around on the dang wrong side of the road.
This is the only part of relocating that I am not particularly fond of. The figuring out of new services, finding the nearest grocery store, feeling like the only one in the city perpetually lost, and perhaps most profoundly, feeling like a visitor waiting to go home. I remember from our relocation to Geneva that most of this uncertainty passes in a couple of months as familiarity settles in. Just kinda wish I could fast forward to that part.
I am also trying to be very zen about Murphy's pending journey. She is scheduled to ship in early February out of Geneva to Zurich then to Amsterdam where she will overnight before transferring to Malaysian Airways to Kuala Lumpur, changing planes, and carrying on to Melbourne. She will be met by the Australian Quarantine Inspection Service upon arrival and driven to the quarantine facility for a 30-day stay. She is a healthy 12-year old Labrador but still a 12-year old dog.
I expect a minor miracle if she survives the journey with her health and complex documentation intact. I would expect a second minor miracle if she survives the quarantine. I fret about her distress and feeling of abandonment. This is a dog used to sleeping in our bed and receiving much love and attention. My heart gets stuck in my throat every time I think too much about her. I am trying very hard to acknowledge that between myself, Nathalie (who has her in Geneva right now), our wonderful Genevois vet, and our Melbourne-based pet relocation agent, we have dotted every "I", crossed every "T" and done everything in our power to ensure her a safe experience. She will soon be in other, and I hope, equally compassionate hands.
There is much to do in the coming days, we depart for Melbourne January 17, arrive on January 19, must collect keys from the house agent and open our new house. Feels a little odd since we only actually visited this house for about 10 minutes and largely forget what it looks like. Is there a downstairs bathroom? Is there an upstairs shower? How big was the garage? We've got to get bank accounts opened, money transferred, two cars and GPSs purchased, and figure out how to get around on the dang wrong side of the road.
This is the only part of relocating that I am not particularly fond of. The figuring out of new services, finding the nearest grocery store, feeling like the only one in the city perpetually lost, and perhaps most profoundly, feeling like a visitor waiting to go home. I remember from our relocation to Geneva that most of this uncertainty passes in a couple of months as familiarity settles in. Just kinda wish I could fast forward to that part.
I am also trying to be very zen about Murphy's pending journey. She is scheduled to ship in early February out of Geneva to Zurich then to Amsterdam where she will overnight before transferring to Malaysian Airways to Kuala Lumpur, changing planes, and carrying on to Melbourne. She will be met by the Australian Quarantine Inspection Service upon arrival and driven to the quarantine facility for a 30-day stay. She is a healthy 12-year old Labrador but still a 12-year old dog.
I expect a minor miracle if she survives the journey with her health and complex documentation intact. I would expect a second minor miracle if she survives the quarantine. I fret about her distress and feeling of abandonment. This is a dog used to sleeping in our bed and receiving much love and attention. My heart gets stuck in my throat every time I think too much about her. I am trying very hard to acknowledge that between myself, Nathalie (who has her in Geneva right now), our wonderful Genevois vet, and our Melbourne-based pet relocation agent, we have dotted every "I", crossed every "T" and done everything in our power to ensure her a safe experience. She will soon be in other, and I hope, equally compassionate hands.
Tuesday, 4 January 2011
A New Year and A New Start
Well, didn't mean to leave you all hanging since my last post. We did, in the end, make it to Victoria after a three-day delay and via Amsterdam instead of London. For the last two weeks, we have been heavily immersed in family time, Christmas time, New Year's Eve time, and intense down time and it has been wonderful and rejuvenating, and refueling, and happy.
C2 leaves for the U.S. tomorrow on a somewhat unexpected 10-day sojourn to the mothership. Not the greatest of timing as we were hoping to leave for Australia in a couple of days but, in the spirit of silver linings, it's all good to hang with the family for an additional couple of weeks.
There has been much letting down of hair, letting loose of anxieties, and letting go of old attachments. I find that I have hid myself in the embrace of my family's love, breathing in their support, and temporarily removing myself from the minutia of detail that has been our existence for the last three months. It is Monday night, newly into 2011, and time to re-engage the detail, remind myself whom I have left behind and of what is yet in front of me.
I have been dreaming about missed buses, missed trains, missed cabs and missed flights, all of which I guess relates to my anxieties over the very protracted and emotional exit of our old life and the start of our new one. Still, Victoria has been a profoundly satisfying limbo, where I can mourn the old, celebrate the now, and anticipate the new.
There has been much letting down of hair, letting loose of anxieties, and letting go of old attachments. I find that I have hid myself in the embrace of my family's love, breathing in their support, and temporarily removing myself from the minutia of detail that has been our existence for the last three months. It is Monday night, newly into 2011, and time to re-engage the detail, remind myself whom I have left behind and of what is yet in front of me.
I have been dreaming about missed buses, missed trains, missed cabs and missed flights, all of which I guess relates to my anxieties over the very protracted and emotional exit of our old life and the start of our new one. Still, Victoria has been a profoundly satisfying limbo, where I can mourn the old, celebrate the now, and anticipate the new.
Sunday, 19 December 2010
Another Christmas Another Cancellation
Global warming, global shwarming bah! It has been an INSANELY emotional week of tear-filled goodbyes, farewells, stay-in-touches, and we'll miss yous. Leaving Murphy with Marc and Nat was wrenching and I feel like I left a part of myself behind.
I have been frantically watching weather forecasts all week with one eye on anticipated heavy snow all over Europe. We have been down this road before with cancelled Christmas plans thanks to snow and I was not eager to repeat the experience particularly since this will be a unique holiday as we head directly to Australia in early January to begin the next chaper of our lives.
Sure enough on Friday, Geneva airport closed for snow, Saturday, Heathrow airport closed for snow and British Airways subsequently cancelled our Sunday flights to Vancouver. After spending hours on hold with agents to rebook our flights along with thousands of others, we are going nowhere until Tuesday morning on KLM through Amsterdam and even then must overnight in Calgary. Maybe that will be a slight silver lining since we can spend the night with our great friends Jeff and Jen.
Oh but with more snow in the forecast, C2 is ready to bail and head straight to Bali.
I have been frantically watching weather forecasts all week with one eye on anticipated heavy snow all over Europe. We have been down this road before with cancelled Christmas plans thanks to snow and I was not eager to repeat the experience particularly since this will be a unique holiday as we head directly to Australia in early January to begin the next chaper of our lives.
Sure enough on Friday, Geneva airport closed for snow, Saturday, Heathrow airport closed for snow and British Airways subsequently cancelled our Sunday flights to Vancouver. After spending hours on hold with agents to rebook our flights along with thousands of others, we are going nowhere until Tuesday morning on KLM through Amsterdam and even then must overnight in Calgary. Maybe that will be a slight silver lining since we can spend the night with our great friends Jeff and Jen.
Oh but with more snow in the forecast, C2 is ready to bail and head straight to Bali.
Friday, 10 December 2010
Everyone's a Critic
It was the end of a busy Thursday. C2 and I had spent the day at our house helping the movers identify, inventory and pack all our wordly possessions, manage our freaked-out dog, and move 9 suitcases plus groceries to our temporary Geneva apartment. J had a full-day of school, Judo including a test to move up on his belt, and a 7:00pm public piano recital.
At 8:30, we hauled our tired selves to Da Paolo's for a meal. J was so tired, he almost fell asleep in his plate. Driving the short distance home after eating, the following conversation took place as we passed a 'happening' Geneva nightclub.
J: "Mummy" what is the V-e-l-v-e-t N-i-g-h-t C-l-u-b
Me: "A nightclub is where people in their 20s and sometimes older go to have a few drinks, meet new people, have a good time, dance a lot and then hopefully make a new girlfriend or boyfriend".
Pause...
J: "Mummy, you must have been a better dancer back then."
For the record, I dance like nobody is watching. Guess it was a good thing my first date with C2 was for coffee.
At 8:30, we hauled our tired selves to Da Paolo's for a meal. J was so tired, he almost fell asleep in his plate. Driving the short distance home after eating, the following conversation took place as we passed a 'happening' Geneva nightclub.
J: "Mummy" what is the V-e-l-v-e-t N-i-g-h-t C-l-u-b
Me: "A nightclub is where people in their 20s and sometimes older go to have a few drinks, meet new people, have a good time, dance a lot and then hopefully make a new girlfriend or boyfriend".
Pause...
J: "Mummy, you must have been a better dancer back then."
For the record, I dance like nobody is watching. Guess it was a good thing my first date with C2 was for coffee.
Monday, 22 November 2010
An Epic Goodbye
I am not good at goodbye's. I studiously avoid them. I run out the door or drop at the airport with an over-the-shoulder quick "call you soon, e-mail me!" My feelings run deep for the people that matter to me and to let my welling feelings show as I take leave of someone I love risks some epic emotion so instead I do my best to suppress those feelings until alone. My friends and family know this about me...the more quiet or removed I get, the more they know something is amiss.
This past weekend, my oldest friend in the world, Sheila, and I met in Paris for a 48-hour meeting of our minds and hearts in an effort to minimize that inevitable goodbye. We have been so blessed in the last five years to have seen each other as often as we have and for our children to have bonded. For the previous 18 years, we had lived oceans apart, so these last few years have felt like we were 14 all over again. With our move to Australia, however, the oceans will separate us once more.
I took a morning TGV from Geneva and Sheila a morning Eurostar from London, and we met at a small hotel in the Latin Quarter on the left bank. We spent the rest of that day wandering St. Germain and stopping on boulevard Mouffetard for a coupe de Champagne before discovering a charming little resto behind St-Germain-des-Prés, the oldest church in Paris for dinner.
After dinner, Sheila indulged my desire to sit at the nearby Café de Flore which like its' neighbour the Café des Deux Magots, was the favorite haunt of intellectuals and ecrivains like Sartre, Simone de Beauvoir, and Ernest Hemingway immediately after World War II. Being intoxicated on friendship, laughter, and the kinds of conversations that only people who have know each other for 30 years can have, we barely blinked at the 32euro charge for two coffees and two glasses of warm grog (warmed rum sweetened with sugar and lemon).
The next day, we explored the alleys and charming squares of the Le Marais district pausing for steaming cups of café au lait whenever we felt like it; perched on straw chairs at round tables at typical Parisian cafés watching the impeccable Parisian world wander by. We later followed some locals into a small Brasserie for a wonderful late lunch of an omelette and a glass of chilled Pouilly-Fume.
After our meal, we strolled through the grounds of the Louvre to the Musee d'Orsay, home of the bulk of impressionist art in Paris. I had been before but had wanted to revisit many of the Monets after just completing the beautiful novel Claude and Camille. Unfortunately, most were on loan to the Grand Palais for a special Monet exhibit, and I had been unable to secure tickets.
We ventured out late in the evening for a wander around the circuitous alleys of busy and boisterous St. Germain, stopping for a glass of wine before finally settling on a charming Brasserie for dinner where I indulged in a perfect entrecôte à point, and we shared a bottle of Nouveau Beaujolais whose season is currently being celebrated in Paris.
Sunday dawned grey and wet, so we opened our umbrellas and wandered to the Pantheon, final resting place of great and honoured French, such as Pierre and Marie Curie, Louis Braille, Victor Hugo, Emile Zola, Voltaire, and Rousseau. We made our way into the Luxembourg gardens, and around it's great palace before again stopping for hot fragrant coffee and croissants to warm our chilled bodies.
All too soon, came the time I had been dreading. On Friday afternoon, I had tried to cling to the anticipation of two delicious days ahead to swap enough stories, share enough soul, and store enough memories to last until our families meet again. You know what, it wasn't enough, it never would be, but I'll take what I got and feel blessed for it.
This past weekend, my oldest friend in the world, Sheila, and I met in Paris for a 48-hour meeting of our minds and hearts in an effort to minimize that inevitable goodbye. We have been so blessed in the last five years to have seen each other as often as we have and for our children to have bonded. For the previous 18 years, we had lived oceans apart, so these last few years have felt like we were 14 all over again. With our move to Australia, however, the oceans will separate us once more.
I took a morning TGV from Geneva and Sheila a morning Eurostar from London, and we met at a small hotel in the Latin Quarter on the left bank. We spent the rest of that day wandering St. Germain and stopping on boulevard Mouffetard for a coupe de Champagne before discovering a charming little resto behind St-Germain-des-Prés, the oldest church in Paris for dinner.
After dinner, Sheila indulged my desire to sit at the nearby Café de Flore which like its' neighbour the Café des Deux Magots, was the favorite haunt of intellectuals and ecrivains like Sartre, Simone de Beauvoir, and Ernest Hemingway immediately after World War II. Being intoxicated on friendship, laughter, and the kinds of conversations that only people who have know each other for 30 years can have, we barely blinked at the 32euro charge for two coffees and two glasses of warm grog (warmed rum sweetened with sugar and lemon).
The next day, we explored the alleys and charming squares of the Le Marais district pausing for steaming cups of café au lait whenever we felt like it; perched on straw chairs at round tables at typical Parisian cafés watching the impeccable Parisian world wander by. We later followed some locals into a small Brasserie for a wonderful late lunch of an omelette and a glass of chilled Pouilly-Fume.
After our meal, we strolled through the grounds of the Louvre to the Musee d'Orsay, home of the bulk of impressionist art in Paris. I had been before but had wanted to revisit many of the Monets after just completing the beautiful novel Claude and Camille. Unfortunately, most were on loan to the Grand Palais for a special Monet exhibit, and I had been unable to secure tickets.
We ventured out late in the evening for a wander around the circuitous alleys of busy and boisterous St. Germain, stopping for a glass of wine before finally settling on a charming Brasserie for dinner where I indulged in a perfect entrecôte à point, and we shared a bottle of Nouveau Beaujolais whose season is currently being celebrated in Paris.
Sunday dawned grey and wet, so we opened our umbrellas and wandered to the Pantheon, final resting place of great and honoured French, such as Pierre and Marie Curie, Louis Braille, Victor Hugo, Emile Zola, Voltaire, and Rousseau. We made our way into the Luxembourg gardens, and around it's great palace before again stopping for hot fragrant coffee and croissants to warm our chilled bodies.
All too soon, came the time I had been dreading. On Friday afternoon, I had tried to cling to the anticipation of two delicious days ahead to swap enough stories, share enough soul, and store enough memories to last until our families meet again. You know what, it wasn't enough, it never would be, but I'll take what I got and feel blessed for it.
Monday, 15 November 2010
Long Time No Talk but Much to Tell
I really need to get back to blogging more regularly. I am out of practice, rusty, pre-occupied and other-wise distracted. Why you ask? Well, for those of you not part of my Facebook world, Swiss Family Hendricks is moving...and for added drama...to Australia.
Ok, first things first. What in the heck am I going to rename my blog??? I need help and suggestions. Hendricks Down Under?, Kangaroo Hendricks?, bah too pithy, I need something a little more clever. So throw your ideas my way.
I must confess when the word first came down, I didn't deal so well. The two reasons I had been opposed started with my aging beloved dog Murphy and ended with my aging beloved mum in Alberta, a long way from Melbourne. However, with the benefit of some perspective, and a house-finding, school-finding trip in October to Melbourne, I am reminded that with the beauty of rapid air travel, the world is indeed a shrinking place. Also, did you know that there are International Pet Relocation Companies? And for the price of a second-hand car, they will do their darndest to get Murphy successfully to Australia and through 30 days of quarantine.
So not to bore you with the minutia of details invested in a move of this magnitude, let me summarize our current state. We have rented a house in Malvern East, a leafy south-east Melbourne suburb, and a few minutes drive to J's new school, l'Ecole Francaise de Melbourne. That was a VERY big deal, J sat on the EFM's wait list for a couple of months, but a bagful of Swiss chocolate and many many pleading phone calls, and personal visits later, he's in! Poor C2, however, faces a brutal and long commute to north Melbourne. He hasn't commuted more than 15 minutes in his entire life. Still, in general, this part is all good.
The icky part, however, is the exit from our house in Geneva, with all the fun that is wrapped up in a system that gives all rights to the owner and virtually none to the renter. Suffice it to say, it will cost us the price of another second-hand car to vacate this property in a state that will satisfy our impossible owners. Then there is the selling of two cars, outdoor play equipment, excess furniture, electronics. C2 straddling two stressful jobs and travelling during 2.5 weeks of our remaining 4 weeks here.
The even ickier part, of course, are the good-byes. Ick Ick double Ick! I have already bid farewell to dear friends who have moved on with their own lives (Melissa, Jawahara, Elin, Lavi) but still had the comfort of remaining meaningful friends. Leaving my remarkable writers group, Katie, Sher, Tima, Sharon, Paula, and Moyette (Jawahara relocated to Boston last week); my book group, Kathy, Kathy, Helen, Barbara, Barbara, and Lula; my fantabulous neighbours, Ioli, Marlys, and Amelia; my dog walking posse; and my only remaining fellow expat soulmates, Nat and Cindy will be wrenching. The ripping out of tender roots hurts. Extremely difficult will be the renewed physical separation between Sheila and I and our very-attached children; so used are we to the quick journey between Geneva and London.
I am torn between the wanderlust inside of me, and the desire for a moment of permanence. Still as long as I have my immediate family beside me, my Canadian family supporting me, and my far-flung network of friends and fellow wanderers to talk to, I hope all will be good in my world.
Ok, first things first. What in the heck am I going to rename my blog??? I need help and suggestions. Hendricks Down Under?, Kangaroo Hendricks?, bah too pithy, I need something a little more clever. So throw your ideas my way.
I must confess when the word first came down, I didn't deal so well. The two reasons I had been opposed started with my aging beloved dog Murphy and ended with my aging beloved mum in Alberta, a long way from Melbourne. However, with the benefit of some perspective, and a house-finding, school-finding trip in October to Melbourne, I am reminded that with the beauty of rapid air travel, the world is indeed a shrinking place. Also, did you know that there are International Pet Relocation Companies? And for the price of a second-hand car, they will do their darndest to get Murphy successfully to Australia and through 30 days of quarantine.
So not to bore you with the minutia of details invested in a move of this magnitude, let me summarize our current state. We have rented a house in Malvern East, a leafy south-east Melbourne suburb, and a few minutes drive to J's new school, l'Ecole Francaise de Melbourne. That was a VERY big deal, J sat on the EFM's wait list for a couple of months, but a bagful of Swiss chocolate and many many pleading phone calls, and personal visits later, he's in! Poor C2, however, faces a brutal and long commute to north Melbourne. He hasn't commuted more than 15 minutes in his entire life. Still, in general, this part is all good.
The icky part, however, is the exit from our house in Geneva, with all the fun that is wrapped up in a system that gives all rights to the owner and virtually none to the renter. Suffice it to say, it will cost us the price of another second-hand car to vacate this property in a state that will satisfy our impossible owners. Then there is the selling of two cars, outdoor play equipment, excess furniture, electronics. C2 straddling two stressful jobs and travelling during 2.5 weeks of our remaining 4 weeks here.
The even ickier part, of course, are the good-byes. Ick Ick double Ick! I have already bid farewell to dear friends who have moved on with their own lives (Melissa, Jawahara, Elin, Lavi) but still had the comfort of remaining meaningful friends. Leaving my remarkable writers group, Katie, Sher, Tima, Sharon, Paula, and Moyette (Jawahara relocated to Boston last week); my book group, Kathy, Kathy, Helen, Barbara, Barbara, and Lula; my fantabulous neighbours, Ioli, Marlys, and Amelia; my dog walking posse; and my only remaining fellow expat soulmates, Nat and Cindy will be wrenching. The ripping out of tender roots hurts. Extremely difficult will be the renewed physical separation between Sheila and I and our very-attached children; so used are we to the quick journey between Geneva and London.
I am torn between the wanderlust inside of me, and the desire for a moment of permanence. Still as long as I have my immediate family beside me, my Canadian family supporting me, and my far-flung network of friends and fellow wanderers to talk to, I hope all will be good in my world.
Tuesday, 12 October 2010
Adieu Angus
Sad day for Swiss Family Hendricks. This animal-loving, animal-centric, animal-focused family lost one of our clan today. My lovely 15-year old cat Angus.
Angus was picked up off of the rough streets of Montreal's south shore in 1995. C2 actually chose him at the SPCA, intrigued because this small grey and orange kitten insisted on boxing with him through the wires of his cage as if saying "pick me, pick me!". Once home, that small grey and orange kitten stretched out his legs, had a bath and presented himself as a snow white and orange full-grown cat. He's kept us laughing and loving ever since. He loved to walk on the balcony flower boxes of our 2nd floor apartment in Snowdon systematically chewing the tops off of my Pansies.
In 1998, he and his cat, Cobie (he's never been our cat, always Angus's) made the move to Calgary with us where I worried about our busy street and they lived their lives largely as reluctant indoor cats, perched in the kitchen window, secretly pushing out the screen and seeking escape at all opportunities. It was in Calgary, that Angus met Murphy, our yellow Labrador. Murphy has always viewed Angus as her surrogate mother and higher on the Swiss Family Hendricks food chain. He also welcomed J, whom he viewed with considerable more suspicion.
In late 2005, Angus, Cobie, and Murphy made the move with us to Geneva. I spent an anxious, sleepless night, awaiting their arrival. The only comment made by customs upon receiving the 3 animals was"'Quel beau chat, ce Angus!". In Geneva, Angus lived the best years of his life. The doors to our garden were open 9 months of the year. He loved to chase butterflies, stretch out under our enormous Rosemary bush or behind a terracotta flower pot and watch the world go by on the other side of the fence. He adored prowling around late into the evening, blatantly ignoring my whistles and calls until it suited him and then slept every night curled up on some part of me purring like a runaway motor.
I am relieved that at his age, he does not have to be subjected to another move, that he was able to finish his life in the place where he was happiest. As painful as today was watching him die in my arms, it was both peaceful, and beautiful. My voice was the last he heard and my face the last he saw. It was a gift to both of us.
Angus was picked up off of the rough streets of Montreal's south shore in 1995. C2 actually chose him at the SPCA, intrigued because this small grey and orange kitten insisted on boxing with him through the wires of his cage as if saying "pick me, pick me!". Once home, that small grey and orange kitten stretched out his legs, had a bath and presented himself as a snow white and orange full-grown cat. He's kept us laughing and loving ever since. He loved to walk on the balcony flower boxes of our 2nd floor apartment in Snowdon systematically chewing the tops off of my Pansies.
In 1998, he and his cat, Cobie (he's never been our cat, always Angus's) made the move to Calgary with us where I worried about our busy street and they lived their lives largely as reluctant indoor cats, perched in the kitchen window, secretly pushing out the screen and seeking escape at all opportunities. It was in Calgary, that Angus met Murphy, our yellow Labrador. Murphy has always viewed Angus as her surrogate mother and higher on the Swiss Family Hendricks food chain. He also welcomed J, whom he viewed with considerable more suspicion.
In late 2005, Angus, Cobie, and Murphy made the move with us to Geneva. I spent an anxious, sleepless night, awaiting their arrival. The only comment made by customs upon receiving the 3 animals was"'Quel beau chat, ce Angus!". In Geneva, Angus lived the best years of his life. The doors to our garden were open 9 months of the year. He loved to chase butterflies, stretch out under our enormous Rosemary bush or behind a terracotta flower pot and watch the world go by on the other side of the fence. He adored prowling around late into the evening, blatantly ignoring my whistles and calls until it suited him and then slept every night curled up on some part of me purring like a runaway motor.
I am relieved that at his age, he does not have to be subjected to another move, that he was able to finish his life in the place where he was happiest. As painful as today was watching him die in my arms, it was both peaceful, and beautiful. My voice was the last he heard and my face the last he saw. It was a gift to both of us.
Monday, 27 September 2010
Thanksgiving Reflection
I have been silent of late. Much going on but complicated to summarize at the moment. Instead in the spirit of Canadian Thanksgiving in two weeks, I am reflecting...
1. Melancholy at finally acknowledging that beloved family pets are in their sunset years.
2. Being ok with the realization that some friends enter your life for a reason and a season.
3. Savoring every precious minute from an evening with Jawahara and Bijoy spent on a coupe de champagne at the Cafe de la Poste in our Swiss village and then walking across the street to the Cheval Blanc for the best Italian meal this side of Rome.
4. Loving the soul mates in my writers' group despite my lack of meaningful writing.
5. Amazement at my rock solid family in Canada who rise to every challenge and are with me every step of the way.
6. Gratitude for my really really good man.
7. Crisp Fall mornings where sunflowers still bloom madly in sun-drenched pockets of the garden.
8. Mix of melancholy, delight and horror that my 7-year old almost reaches my shoulder, is still afraid to watch Indiana Jones and has discovered the f*** word.
9. The pleasures of a good book: 'Suite Francaise' by Irene Nemirovsky, a horrifying book: 'Raven: The Untold Story of the Rev. Jim Jones and His People' by Tim Reiterman, and a beautifully written but otherwise average book: 'Tinkers' by Paul Harding but who am I to pass judgment on the Pulitzer committee.
10. The dog walking posse in my lovely Swiss village. We are all bonded by our canine attachments and we all get it. No judgment.
11. Running and its' emboldening freedom.
12. Wishing I could be a part of the Rally to Restore Sanity in D.C. on October 30.
13. Flabbergasted at the rise of the Tea Party and wishing that those who are indignant at the thought of government standing between them and their doctor would realize that their insurance company or HMO already stands between them - if they're lucky enough to have one of course.
14. Missing Canada but still embracing all the possibilities.
1. Melancholy at finally acknowledging that beloved family pets are in their sunset years.
2. Being ok with the realization that some friends enter your life for a reason and a season.
3. Savoring every precious minute from an evening with Jawahara and Bijoy spent on a coupe de champagne at the Cafe de la Poste in our Swiss village and then walking across the street to the Cheval Blanc for the best Italian meal this side of Rome.
4. Loving the soul mates in my writers' group despite my lack of meaningful writing.
5. Amazement at my rock solid family in Canada who rise to every challenge and are with me every step of the way.
6. Gratitude for my really really good man.
7. Crisp Fall mornings where sunflowers still bloom madly in sun-drenched pockets of the garden.
8. Mix of melancholy, delight and horror that my 7-year old almost reaches my shoulder, is still afraid to watch Indiana Jones and has discovered the f*** word.
9. The pleasures of a good book: 'Suite Francaise' by Irene Nemirovsky, a horrifying book: 'Raven: The Untold Story of the Rev. Jim Jones and His People' by Tim Reiterman, and a beautifully written but otherwise average book: 'Tinkers' by Paul Harding but who am I to pass judgment on the Pulitzer committee.
10. The dog walking posse in my lovely Swiss village. We are all bonded by our canine attachments and we all get it. No judgment.
11. Running and its' emboldening freedom.
12. Wishing I could be a part of the Rally to Restore Sanity in D.C. on October 30.
13. Flabbergasted at the rise of the Tea Party and wishing that those who are indignant at the thought of government standing between them and their doctor would realize that their insurance company or HMO already stands between them - if they're lucky enough to have one of course.
14. Missing Canada but still embracing all the possibilities.
Monday, 2 August 2010
My Levanto, Redux V
I am sitting at my MacBook beside my open dining room door watching a mid-summer Geneva rain gently water my thirsty coral geraniums. A lovely breeze cools my cheeks. I am pondering how to justify with words the beauty, peace and attachment that our fifth (yes fifth!) visit to Levanto brought us last week.
My Levanto, for that is how I feel now. I intimately know its' glowing colours, the smiles that greet my ernest attempts at Italian conversation, the smells of garlic and rising dough mixed with salt air, the tastes of prosecco and pesto, the crunch of the sand that inhabits every part of our apartment and which I sweep out of my bed before falling pleasantly exhausted into it every night.
Lucky us spent our beach holiday this year again with our wonderful friends Marc, Nat and their Labrador Ben. Joining us this year were her beyond-charming parents whom we all referred to as Mamie and Papie. J was particularly charmed by them (attached as he is to grandparents). Their attachment was cemented when they insisted on keeping him for an evening all to themselves. While Marc, Nat, C2 and I had an evening of Morettis and Margaritas, they had an evening of brioche con gelato for dinner followed by a dessert of gelato. Seriously what kid wouldn't be in love?
You reveal a lot when you holiday with friends. Either you get each other or you don't. This week was not the easiest parenting week. I continue to find age seven a wondrous journey down a bumpy road. Marc and Nat don't judge, they just get on with it and love us in spite of our efforts or because of our failings. Friends doesn't come close to covering it, Marc and Nat are the family we got to pick.
Did an amazing 3 hour hike from Levanto to Cinque Terre village #1, Monterrosso al Mare. Absolutely stunning gnarly, hot coastal walk - unforgettable! Particularly the self-made entrepreneur about an hour and a half into our hike who beckoned with "mineral water and organic lemons". Translation: reused plastic cups filled with tap water and a half a lemon for 2 euros a cup. We paid for the privilege of repeating this story in perpetuity.
J discovered cliff jumping this year....be still my heart. He watched with fascination teenagers climbing the large pile of hardened lava on our beach and launching themselves into space. He immediately determined this was the thing for him. No beach football or volleyball for my boy, nope it's extreme sports all the way. Everyday, he ventured a little higher. C2 kept watching that he could clear the rocks below while I covered my eyes.
Wednesday, 21 July 2010
Under the (Scorching) Tuscan Sun
It has been long on my list of places to experience. Just the imagery conjured up by the name...TUSCANY... In my mind's eye, I envisioned sweeping vistas of rolling Tuscan hills dotted with Cypress trees, vineyards, and olive groves. I imagined classic Etruscan architecture, the simple grandeur of organic structures born of naturally hewn stone, terra cotta, travertine glowing an ochre coloured light.
We rented a villa with Canadian friends outside of the village of Anghiari about a half-hour from Arezzo bordering Tuscany and Umbria. It was at the very top of one of my imagined Tuscan hills. About 10 minutes, straight up a dusty, winding, hot trail ending at our villa with the dreamed-of spectacular view south over Umbria.
I had also imagined that it would be hot and boy was that an understatement. The temperature hovered between 37 and 40 degrees celsius everyday, phew. Thank goodness for the beautiful pool at our villa. We couldn't keep Murphy out of it, she was the first in everyday and swam laps around us for hours.
It was too steamy to daytrip much or venture too far afield. Instead we lounged poolside reading, swimming with the kids, wandering the surrounding olive and fig groves looking for Scorpions and Lizards. Late in the afternoon, we would sit under the Wisteria and Jasmine pergola drinking ice cold white wine, eating pears and parmesan, and melon and prosciutto.
C2 and I left J happily with our friends and their son Tomas one day and took a train north to Florence. We had an adult-only culture date and we revelled in the beauty of this lovely renaissance city. We wandered over the Ponte Vecchio to the Pitti Palace, marvelled at the wonder of the Duomo, and stared in amazement at the open air sculptures of the Palazzo Vecchio.
We discovered a little out of the way restaurant near the Uffizi Museum populated by locals and had a wonderful lunch of braesola, fresh crisp salad, strachietelli mozzarella (the result of the first skimming of the cheese and unlike anything we had ever tasted before), and a gorgeous glass of Chianti. We drooped with the heat by the time we returned anxious to plunge into our delicious pool.
Most evenings, we lingered either on the sun-drenched kitchen terrace or under the cooler pergola eating pizza made in our own pizza oven, or taking pleasure in C2's or Jon's wonderful cooking. Long evenings spent in the laughter of our children, listening to the Cigales (Cicadas) song, drinking Super Tuscans or rich Chiantis, and talking and talking.
We explored the medieval village of Anghiari thoroughly, letting the kids lead us through the old castle walls, seeking out secret passages where they could find them, and rewarding them with granita or gelato. We wondered at the lives of the people living behind the colourful shutters or in the tiny houses up the winding stairs. Our imaginations and curiousity were on full alert.
We also wandered the Tuscan jewel that is Arezzo sitting high on a hill rising up from the Arno River valley. Arezzo was empty of tourists perhaps kept away by the killer heat or by the killer economic climate. A shame, since it's medieval core was an unexpected delight and its' cathedral or duomo, the most stunning I have seen outside of St. Peter's in Rome.
Our children had a wondrous adventure, our empty tanks got filled, our curiosity satiated, and our palates more than pleased. We reluctantly bid arrivederci to Tuscany and returned home for a few days. Happily, we head back to our beloved Italia shortly when we make our annual pilgramage to the beach town of Levanto.
We rented a villa with Canadian friends outside of the village of Anghiari about a half-hour from Arezzo bordering Tuscany and Umbria. It was at the very top of one of my imagined Tuscan hills. About 10 minutes, straight up a dusty, winding, hot trail ending at our villa with the dreamed-of spectacular view south over Umbria.
I had also imagined that it would be hot and boy was that an understatement. The temperature hovered between 37 and 40 degrees celsius everyday, phew. Thank goodness for the beautiful pool at our villa. We couldn't keep Murphy out of it, she was the first in everyday and swam laps around us for hours.
It was too steamy to daytrip much or venture too far afield. Instead we lounged poolside reading, swimming with the kids, wandering the surrounding olive and fig groves looking for Scorpions and Lizards. Late in the afternoon, we would sit under the Wisteria and Jasmine pergola drinking ice cold white wine, eating pears and parmesan, and melon and prosciutto.
C2 and I left J happily with our friends and their son Tomas one day and took a train north to Florence. We had an adult-only culture date and we revelled in the beauty of this lovely renaissance city. We wandered over the Ponte Vecchio to the Pitti Palace, marvelled at the wonder of the Duomo, and stared in amazement at the open air sculptures of the Palazzo Vecchio.
We discovered a little out of the way restaurant near the Uffizi Museum populated by locals and had a wonderful lunch of braesola, fresh crisp salad, strachietelli mozzarella (the result of the first skimming of the cheese and unlike anything we had ever tasted before), and a gorgeous glass of Chianti. We drooped with the heat by the time we returned anxious to plunge into our delicious pool.
Most evenings, we lingered either on the sun-drenched kitchen terrace or under the cooler pergola eating pizza made in our own pizza oven, or taking pleasure in C2's or Jon's wonderful cooking. Long evenings spent in the laughter of our children, listening to the Cigales (Cicadas) song, drinking Super Tuscans or rich Chiantis, and talking and talking.
We explored the medieval village of Anghiari thoroughly, letting the kids lead us through the old castle walls, seeking out secret passages where they could find them, and rewarding them with granita or gelato. We wondered at the lives of the people living behind the colourful shutters or in the tiny houses up the winding stairs. Our imaginations and curiousity were on full alert.
We also wandered the Tuscan jewel that is Arezzo sitting high on a hill rising up from the Arno River valley. Arezzo was empty of tourists perhaps kept away by the killer heat or by the killer economic climate. A shame, since it's medieval core was an unexpected delight and its' cathedral or duomo, the most stunning I have seen outside of St. Peter's in Rome.
Our children had a wondrous adventure, our empty tanks got filled, our curiosity satiated, and our palates more than pleased. We reluctantly bid arrivederci to Tuscany and returned home for a few days. Happily, we head back to our beloved Italia shortly when we make our annual pilgramage to the beach town of Levanto.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)