Some bullet points and a video
NS July 13th, 2009
Archive for the 'Travel' Category
The sights of summer
NS July 7th, 2009
My visit in the US is drawing to a close and I will be arriving back in London on Friday morning. My sister is flying back with me and staying for another week and I’m sure the jetlag and laundry will keep me busy for a few days as well so posting will continue to be sparse for just a little while longer. In the interim, a few pictures taken with my new camera and my new love, the Canon Rebel XSi.
Warm days
Sun and sangria
Chicago skyline
Tiny tapdancer
First dill pickle
My 30th birthday cake
My alma mater
Around campus
Flowers outside the winery
A dual citizen on Independence Day
You can teach a new dog cool tricks
NS June 24th, 2009
I woke up at 7am this morning, completely perplexed. The Noble Baby hasn’t slept past 5.30 since we arrived, with some days starting at 3 or 4. I picked him up and walked into the living room, where I heard my sister’s and TNC’s voices. I assumed TNC had only just woken up as well so asked my sister, “Did she come and get you just now?” to which she replied, “Um, no. She came and woke me up at 5.30 this morning. When I asked her where you were she said ‘Mummy is so very tired, she needs to sleep.’ I assume you put her up to this?”
I wish I could take the credit for this stroke of genius but, hand on heart, I didn’t. I have to say though, I really, really like it. And god bless her cottons, I really did need that extra bit of sleep. I’m sure her motivation was nothing more than a desire to play with her fun auntie instead of boring ol’ mum but I’d like to think her toddler’s intuition played a part. Whatever the reason, it was most welcome. I think I’m officially over the jetlag.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go drink a cold beer on the deck and later, after the kids are in bed and I’ve had some lovely grilled chicken and vegetables, watch fireflies light up amongst the leaves of the trees swaying in the balmy breeze.
I could really, really get used to this again.
A thunderous welcome
NS June 19th, 2009
I’m still in shock.
The flight went so well and passed by so quickly that I don’t feel as if we flew on a plane but a magical time machine. There were no hitches. None. We got up on time, got ready in time, got into the taxi on time and were given bulkhead seats without even asking. We got through security in less than 10 minutes and even though TNC got patted down and security-wanded, she thought it was great fun. Both children settled in well and we were given a sky cot for The Noble Baby. He didn’t sleep in it at all but it was a great place for him to sit and play or, when he was on our laps, a place to throw our empty drink bottles, blankets, toys, etc..
We watched Coraline (fantastic film, highly recommend) and I even managed to read a chapter of my book and have a glass of wine with the meal. There was no running, no tantrums, no screaming or crying, until the very, very end when TNC fell asleep right before we began the descent and she was forced to sit up in her seat with seatbelt on. Even then, the crying was fairly short-lived. Astonishment does not even begin to cover it. I had mentally prepared myself for a long, drawn-out battle that would leave me in a crumpled heap of defeat, all blubbering and stress and fury, in the arrivals hall.
Perhaps this does not seem all that amazing or significant to you, but if you knew my past history with traveling, even before I had children, you would know that me plus airplanes and airports usually results in mayhem and misery. From my two-day European mishap to bomb scares at O’Hare involving sitting outside in the baking heat watching SWAT teams descend from helicopters to missed connections and lost tickets, flying for me is never straightforward. So to have an eight hour flight with two small children go so swimmingly is nothing short of a miracle to me.
I watched the wide, sprawling roads and pavements pass by as we drove from the airport and arrived at my sister’s enormous flat with the green-eyed monster weighing heavily on my back. Look at all this room! Cars can drive in opposite directions on a road and not have to dodge in and out of parked cars and perform elaborate headlight-flashing morse code acrobatics to indicate who should go first. You can walk into a store and not immediately bump into a display stacked ceiling-high. My sister’s apartment is at least four times as big as my entire house (no joke!) and has air-conditioning, ceiling fans, a dishwasher, garbage disposal, private parking and FOUR bathrooms. Four! I know I’ve been on the tiny island we call Great Britain too long when these things have me open-mouthed and wide-eyed still, even hours after our arrival. The inevitable “everything in England is crap and tiny” feeling has already started and I know I’ll be eyeing up property websites with a dream in my heart before the first week is up. I also know, without a doubt, that the fantasy move will not materialize (at least not for a good few years) and that by the end of the trip I will also be sick to the teeth of American infomercials, personal injury lawyers, perfect teeth and permatans on news presenters, fast food outlets and strip malls, and various other things that annoy me about my homeland.
As it is, I’ve had a very good start to my trip. Not only did the journey go well but this morning, awakened at 3am local time by my jetlagged and confused children, we were treated to a magnificent midwestern thunderstorm. Pouring, steady rain; warm humid air; lightning streaking across the night sky and thunder that rumbled and grumbled like an old man’s cough and a dog’s warning growl. I opened the back door to listen to the raindrops clattering on the wooded deck and smell the air, vivid with electricity and sound and humidity, so thick and forceful that I almost felt I could reach out and grab it in my hands. I inhaled deeply and smelled my childhood come flooding back, my previous life. I was lucky to grow up where and how and when I did, this I know. And that I get to share that with my kids as they grow up, even if it’s only every other year, for three weeks at a time, it’s enough for me. If they ever appreciate the smell of a rainstorm and learn to love the sound of thunder, I will be satisfied that at least some of my heart’s beginnings have been passed down to them.
A stranger in my own land, certainly, but this land and this force of nature will never be a stranger to me. It will always welcome me back into the fold like a mother’s embrace, full of forgiveness and love even when the chid has strayed.
What a welcome home.
Is Chicago, is not Chicago*
NS June 17th, 2009
*Bonus points to whoever knows the title song
Well, we’re off. Tomorrow morning at 7.30am a giant taxi will arrive to take two adults, two children, two carseats, four suitcases and three carry-on bags to Heathrow, where we will begin the 12-hour journey (8 hour flight; 4 at airports) to Chicago. I’ve been looking forward to this trip immensely since we booked it back in January and while in a way it seems like it’s been forever, it’s suddenly crept up on me quickly, as time does.
Posting will be light, obviously. So adios, mi amigos. I’ll catch up with you all when I’m back in three weeks.
