Monday, 21 August 2017

Self Reliance, Family, and Missing Pieces

If your like me you've been self reliant for a loooooong time!  I've also always been the one who makes sure everyone else is ok. Growing up I took care of my great grandmother (Nana) what started out as me spending the weekend with Nana when I was 7 turned to spending the week with her and weekends with my Mum until by the time I was 10 I was living with Nana full time and my Mum would visit us once a month or so.  I became the one my Nana relied on to buy groceries, run errands, and help with the upkeep of the house. I suppose you  could say I grew up quickly. By the time I was 11 weekends changed from sleepovers with friends to staying close to home in case she needed me. I didn't mind though. Truth be told I relied on her as much as she relied on me.  Nana always knew how to mend the physical and emotional hurt, she was the one I turned to the day my best friend committed suicide.
Spending time with my great grandmother was amazing. My love of Japanese culture came from her.  She had a curio cabinet (which I inherited) full of little Japanese treasures. I remember as a child her allowing me to open the cabinet and play with those wonderful treasures.  I was always so careful to make sure I didn't drop, break, or otherwise inflict harm to those trinkets which she held so dear. My play mostly comprised of having the Japanese figurines walk over the ceramic bridge.
It was also from my Nana that I gained a love of England.  I remember on a family holiday to Washington we went to the ocean and my Nana telling me that if I looked really hard I could see the shores of England.  I didn't have the heart to tell her we were standing on the wrong coast and even if we were on the correct coast it was too far away. But I stood with her and looked out over the water imagining I could see the British coast and the land of our ancestors.  Nana was named Esperance after the ship that brought her parents over from the motherland.  She always wanted to go the England, but never had the chance. With her passing (I was 14) I made it my goal to one day visit England for her.  I made my first trip here in 2007 in her honour.  I still remember stepping off the plane at Heathrow Airport and whispering "I did it Nana, I'm in England", tears rolling down my cheeks I made my way to immigration.
Living here in London I have to wonder what Nana would think of England. The hustle and bustle of the city, crowds of people rushing to and from work, even bigger crowds of tourists taking in the sights.  I imagine if she were alive today she would want to see Buckingham Palace and Tower Bridge.  She wouldn't want to the take Underground, she'd prefer a black cab. We would have tea with scones and clotted cream and she would tell me the stories her parents told her of England. We'd window shop at Selfridges and try on hats in a fancy hat shop. We'd travel outside of London and see Windsor Castle, Stonehenge, and go to the seaside where we would site and have proper fish and chips.
Life isn't the same without her around and even though she has been gone for 25 years I still miss her everyday, but I hope she looks in on me from time to time and is proud of the person I have become.


Saturday, 19 August 2017

I See the Sea!


The sea is a magical place.  The salt in the air, seagulls flying overhead, the sound of the crashing waves.  If I close my eyes I can almost smell that salty sea air and feel the mist on my face. 
Earlier in the week my husband surprised me with an afternoon trip to Brighton. We got the train and in less than an hour we were there.  We had lunch at Wahaca a lovely Mexican restaurant and then made our way down towards the pier. Walking down the hill, I couldn't help but suddenly turn to my husband and say "I see the sea!!!" excitedly. He laughed and told me that as a child it was always a game to see who saw the sea first when they all traveled together to the coast.  
I was so excited to finally be at the seaside again, my last venture to a British beach had been in 2010 to the sandy shores of Margate.  
Brighton is a different kind of beach, its rocky and the day we were there extremely windy.  I had worn a dress, something I had thought would be fine as I was told to dress summery.  After the first 3 near Marilyn Monroe moments I quickly rummaged around in my handbag and pulled out a 10p coin and an elastic; quickly MacGyvering my dress into a onesie. It wasn't pretty but it did the trick and I was no longer constantly worrying about showing the world the colour of my knickers.  
Clothing crisis adverted I was free to enjoy the beauty of the sea. We walked along the pier taking in the sites and then decided to have a walk down to the rocky beach.
I will always believe that the ocean has healing properties, it speaks to me.  I genuinely feel that I need periodic trips to the seaside so that I can put my feet in that cold salt water and let the ebb and flow of the water draw out all the negativity, fears, and doubts that are clouding my mind.  Standing in the tide I let the water pour over my toes rising up to my knees and absorb its strength while letting its calming caress soothe my soul.
After I sat on the rocky beach letting my legs dry and watching the waves crash onto the shore.  Side by side my husband and I sat in silence taking in the beauty of the ocean, a bright blue sky overhead, wind whipping the sea into a frenzy of waves.  It was a perfect afternoon. We sat there until it was time to catch the train home. Stopping at the pier we got a bag of churros to share and sat on a step to eat and talk.  It could not have been a more perfect day.  I hope we visit the seaside again soon.  Next time I'll wear something more beach appropriate and we've already agreed we'll have chips on the beach.









Thursday, 10 August 2017

Deja Vu?!?

In three days I will have been married five months! Wow where did the time go? Still riding high on the coat tails of wedding bliss, in a month and one day we will be leaving our home in Addiscombe (suburb of Croydon - borough of London) for the mountains, trees and wide open spaces of Idaho for our wedding reception vol.2.
Hold up! Wait just a minute! Wedding Reception?!?
You might staring at your screen thinking to yourself "but you were married five months ago didn't you have a reception then? Or are you just greedy and want to be the centre attention all over again?!?" For those of you who know my husband and I you know that neither of us enjoy being the centre of attention. I am the epitome of a wallflower. I find a corner and blend into it like a ninja, its my skill.  Obviously on our wedding day we were all smiles and so busy with ceremonies, pictures, etc I didn't even have a chance to find a corner to blend into. Though truth be told wearing a big white dress makes it difficult to blend haha!  So back to the wedding reception part 2.  On our blessed day I had five people from Idaho with me my mum, cousins Kaitie and Talon, best friend Annette, and Poky mum Lynn. The rest of my family (there are a lot of them) didn't have passports or funding to attend.  So we are packing up and having a celebration with all the family and friends I left back home in Idaho.
And while it seems like all fun and games, with a second celebration comes all the wedding stresses I left behind five months ago. Budgets, organising food, accommodation for people not local and the idea that I'm bringing a family from London (used to the London lifestyle (Grandparent, In-laws, Aunts, Uncles, and Cousins) to the rural life of Idaho where big shopping means a trip to the local Wal-mart.  I know everyone is excited that the prospect of seeing mountains, a trip to Yellowstone and of course the celebration of Sudheer and I tying the knot, but I have to wonder is everyone going to be bored with the Idaho way of life?  Anyone who has been to the UK especially London knows that life here is just different, its fast paced and you pretty much have the world at your finger tips.  I still haven't fully adjusted and I've lived here for six months.
To top it off I am also finally organising the shipping of all my belongings from Idaho to the UK. EIN numbers, insurance, packing lists, oh the endless fun.
All I can is, I hope the reception will go well and everyone will get along. Hopefully my dress will fit and I can figure out how to do my makeup by myself. The food won't be what the UK family is used to (we had a full meal including drinks and hors d'oeuvres, but those from Idaho will know what to expect (cake, punch, and nibbles) but hopefully everyone just enjoys being together.



Wednesday, 2 August 2017

The Humble Potato


I'm from Idaho so I know a thing or two about potatoes. My grandfather was a foreman of a farm for decades, where they grew potatoes.  I joke with my new family here in the UK that potatoes run through my veins and I need at least a weekly intake so I don't die! (A bit melodramatic I know.)
Growing up, potatoes were served at least once a day in our household.  Mostly because my mother and aunt who worked at a potato warehouse received a free 10 lbs bag of potatoes each payday.  So we had 20 lbs of potatoes to use every 2 weeks.  Thanks to my mothers ingenuity and the constant supply of potatoes even in the tough times we didn't go hungry.  Maybe got a bit bored with the diet of potatoes and bologna but there was always at least one meal on the table each day.  Bless my mother and her amazing ability to turn the potato into a million different things. Sure we had the usual: baked, fried, and mashed.  But when the pantry allowed she unleashed her creativity and we had things like colcannon, potato soup (Nana's secret recipe), potato au gratin, scalloped potatoes, potato bread, gnocchi, potato hash, potato pancakes made from leftover baked potatoes, and more. My mother's potato repertoire was endless.  She kept us alive on potatoes, and even though I've probably eaten my weight in potatoes at least 100 times over I still love them.
It wasn't just my household that revolved around potatoes, my grandparents were very much meat and potatoes people.  Of course being a foreman of a potato farm leads
to a lot of free potatoes so my grandmother put all those potatoes to good use. I remember many a meal at my gram's house consisting of meat, fried potatoes, and a side of veg and I loved it every time.  When I stayed with my great grandmother to keep her company and look after her the potato diet continued, my favourite of hers being hash browns and potato soup.  She made the most wonderful hash browns. Golden and crispy on the outside and soft and fluffy inside. Never clumpy or greasy, just potato perfection.  My Nana's potato soup will forever be my absolute favourite of all time and nothing compares to it. It is also a guarded secret family recipe.  I remember when Nana and I would do our monthly shopping trip to the local Kmart we would almost always stop into the cafe for lunch and I would always have the same thing, mashed potatoes and gravy.  So you can see that my love of the potato is deeply rooted.
Lucky for me I moved to another country where the potato also plays a big role.  Enter the British potato, lovely baked ((known as a jacket potato here) with filling such as baked beans and cheese, coronation chicken,  tikka masala, and on it goes), roasted potatoes so crispy on the outside and deliciously soft and fluffy inside served with Sunday roast, the occasional mashed, but on the top of the list is the chip.  Oh the chip shop chip! The fact that there is something even called a chip shop (aka chippy) should tell you something. British chips are; well; they are amazing!!! If your American, take everything you think you know about the chip (known there as a french fry) and toss it out the window.  I'm not talking about McDonald's, Wendy's, or any of those fast food versions that sell over processed, mashed potatoes formed to look like a stick, I'm talking about real potatoes cut fresh and fried.  Back home there are only two places that I know of that have a fighting chance against the British chip; Five Guys and Tastee Treat. Both delicious, but there is just something about the British chip.  Not overly greasy, perfectly crispy on the outside, fluffy inside, scooped onto a piece of paper sprinkled with salt and wrapped tightly.  You can also get them in a paper cone of chips with a wooden fork and eat them then and there.  One of my favourite treats is fish and chips from our local chippy. Due to allergies I get my fish grilled rather than deep fried but come on lets face it, the meal is mostly about the chips.
I've been craving chips for nearly a week now and I'm fairly certain I'm going to cave soon (especially after writing this post). Luckily I had potatoes last night in the form of gobi aloo so I have some potatoes coursing though my veins and I'm not at risk from potato withdrawals for the next 48 to 72 hours.

A Feeling of Disconnect

I always knew to a certain extent, that moving to another country would disconnect me from friends and family back in Idaho.  When I firs...