Your 2012 Five A Day – April

It’s April already. Seriously peeps, just where has the year gone?

This month’s Violent Veg theme is acceptance, a topic much written about by expat experts the world over. When does your new country/city/town/suburb/street become ‘home’? And what’s important – speaking the lingo, making friends with the locals, finding your patch?

Maybe it’s all three.

Eddie strayed onto the wrong patch, where some rotten vegetables…
…gave him a nasty veggie.
I’ve read that it takes 18 months to 2 years to feel settled in a new home. My own experience of moving to London echoes this with happy contentment arriving about 18 months into my foray into expat life.

So it would seem that my recent ‘upping sticks’ to Fab Finchley is still in its honeymoon phase and by my own reckoning, I have about 13 months ‘to go’. But in lunching with an ex-Fab-Finchley-ite friend yesterday, I’ve suddenly discovered a few nooks and crannies to add to the list of fabulous-ness that I need to explore here. Beautiful gardens, stately homes and even a weekly soiree of the ballroom dancing kind may just be on the cards.

Just hope the natives I find there are friendly!

Passage of Time…

One of my most inspiring moments during my recent trip to Dublin occurred at Newgrange in the Boyne Valley. Mum had been disappointed to miss this last time she visited, so this was on the ‘must do’ list for our soujourn in the Emerald Isle. It was awesome – and I mean that in the original sense of the word.

Newgrange is a 45 minute drive north of Dublin and is part of a complex of 40 passage tombs located in the Boyne Valley. It was built approximately 5,000 years ago, pre-dating the Great Pyramids of Giza and, along with neighbouring passage tombs Knowth and Dowth, has been designated a World Heritage Site by UNESCO.



Most famously, Newgrange is recognised for its importance in relation to the Winter Solstice. On the 21st December each year, the rising sun sends shafts of light through the roofbox above the main entrance, the light creeping forward in a point shaped by the walls of the passage to illuminate the sacred chamber at the end before receding for another year. Even more fascinating is that this ritual is mirrored at Dowth at sunset on the same day.

The illuminated passage at Newgrange. Source: http://www.newgrange.com

It is difficult to imagine just how these were built. Much like the more famous temples of ancient Egypt and Britain’s own Stonehenge, there is continued fascination surrounding their positioning and enduring construction methods as well as the role that these monuments played in the life of Stone Age communities.

Evidence has been found of farming in the area as early as 3800 BC but it appears that the main construction of Newgrange commenced in 3300 BC. It is suggested that Newgrange was built to the shape of the ridge and the original ground plan laid out first with both the entrance stone and back stone placed along with the stone at the back of the main chamber as markers.
From about 3000 BC, Newgrange took its final shape. This model shows 4 smaller passage tombs built, some before and some afterwards, in line with Newgrange.
After the final blocking stone was placed, the focus moved to external monuments from 2800 BC for a period of 600 years.
Access to Newgrange is a 4 minute trip by bus from the Visitor Centre and only available with a guide so we booked our places and spent an hour completely amazed….
Newgrange from the Bru na Boinne Visitor Centre
Newgrange is surrounded by stone markers, the significance of which remains a mystery.
Going inside the tomb was completely amazing and included a short ‘re-enactment’ of the Solstice experience. To think that we stood under a 5,000 year old corbelled stone ceiling that no light or water has ever penetrated. Awe-inspring stuff.

There are a number of highly decorated stones at Newgrange both inside and outside the monument. Many show the triple spiral which has featured in carvings as far back as those of the Australian Aborigines 40,000 years ago.
The views from the entrance of Newgrange across the Boyne Valley are spectacular. Most of our visit was beneath sunny blue skies but this moment of cloud gave it something of a portentous feel.
These photos do not come close to doing it justice but how do you capture a sense of history and atmosphere like that? All I can say is that this was my trip highlight, my enchanted moment so to speak. In fact I was so inspired that I entered the lottery to attend this year’s Winter Solstice at Newgrange so keep your fingers crossed for me! 

Oh and I get to take ‘a friend’….any takers?

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Interested in finding out more about Newgrange and the passage tombs of the Boyne Valley? Check out http://www.knowth.com/bru-na-boinne.htm

Colour And Character…

So this is the first Dublin post. But it’s probably not what you expected. There’s no Guinness, no leprechauns, no national heros, no river dancing.

To be honest, I wondered what to post about. While I enjoyed Dublin, I didn’t really have that moment of enchantment, that second that, as I round some corner and go wow, makes me want to return. But as I went through my photos, I realised that I’d managed to capture an unexpected aspect of Dublin’s colour and character…so eyes up people, here we go…

The post boxes are green…

…as are the doors.

But the doors are also pink…

…and red…

…and even orange!

There were elephants (no trip is complete without a nod to the original blog of The Displaced Nation‘s ML Awanohara – Seen The Elephant)…

…plenty of watering holes…

…and a little bit of culture.

These Dubliners do like to paint stuff all over their walls whether it’s a telling a story…

…a nod to generations past…

…or a promise to clean up their act.

Sometimes it gets a little abstract…

…or like pieces of a puzzle.

But as we were on the go for four whole days…

…it was great to find a spot to rest at last…

…under the swaying palm.

Departures…

After a 10 day sojourn, Mum flew out to Dubai last night on the final leg of her February 2012 odyssey. It’s quiet here this afternoon at Gidday HQ but I have lots of things to be getting on with before it’s back to work tomorrow.

All up it’s been a busy 10 days with some ‘must dos’ not done as we traded off a few excursions for a little chill out time at home. I’ll post about some of the specific things we did over the next week or so – that’ll be more posts of the ‘Armchair‘ variety coming up for you – but in summary we shopped, played tourist, ate, drank and were generally slightly hysterical very merry.

Day 1 started gently for my erstwhile traveller, recovering from 2 weeks amidst the hurly burly of Egypt with a sleep in, a short stroll around my local park and a coffee stop or two before heading into The Tower of London in the evening for the Ceremony of the Keys.

The Ceremony of the Keys has been occurring every night at the Tower for the last 700 years and is the ritual of securing the Tower and the Crown Jewels for the night. From arrival at the West Gate at 9.30pm to departure at approximately 10.15pm, every moment was filled with a sense of both occasion and history as the Yeoman Warder led the group down to stand at Traitor’s Gate and watch the ceremony.

After explaining the ceremony itself, he left us to watch in silence as he joined his fellow warders in the ritual locking of the two outer gates, the steady march towards Traitor’s Gate right through to the proclamation that the Tower had been secured and the haunting notes of the bugler’s Last Post. This is definitely one of London’s hidden gems and even better, it is free but you need to send off a request form a couple of months in advance. You can click here to go to the website and check it out for yourself.

Saturday we were off to High Tea at The Connaught in Mayfair with A-down-the-hill to enjoy a significantly posher version of our previous Champers and Cupcakes escapades…

Champers gets our afternoon off to a fab start
There were also scones (they were scrum-diddly-umptious) and we got to choose three jams between us – my fave was the Apple & Quince!

Mum and I took ourselves off to see The Artist afterwards which meant a much needed 25 minute waddle along Oxford Street…

Oxford Circus
Selfridges
Get your five a day at the junction of Oxford and Duke Streets

Sunday was clear and crisp so we headed off to Greenwich. This will be featured as an Armchair post so more about our day later on. Suffice to say we managed to get our hands on something quite old…

We did a spot of shopping on Monday then decided on a ‘rest day’ before heading off to Dublin on Wednesday for 4 days. This little trip warrants a couple of dedicated posts but for now, I’ll leave you with a highlights package…

The Boyne Valley, about 45 minutes drive north of Dublin, has 40 passage tombs in all shapes, sizes and states of preservation…
…and we visited Newgrange Passage Tomb which predates the pyramids.
.
I poured (and drank) the perfect pint at The Guinness Storehouse (and have a certificate to prove it)…
…while Irish history came to life for me at Kilmainham Jail.
I was delighted to find a ‘host of golden daffodils’ in Merrion Square…
…whilst visiting the Famine memorial by the Liffey River was quite moving.

We managed to cram a lot into our four days and came back to Gidday HQ on Saturday night absolutely exhuasted. Then departure day had arrived, all too soon it seemed, with much packing and sorting going on before heading back out to Heathrow again and hugging Mum goodbye.

As I walked away from the Departure Gate, I felt the familiar tearing of my heart between the love of family on the other side of the world and the connection of my soul with London. And I wondered at what it was in me that led me here so very far away, and where I might end up next.

Arrivals…

A few weeks back I read a post over on 4 Kids, 20 Suitcases and a Beagle, Arrivals or Departureswhere Australian serial expat Kirsty shared her love of the Arrivals Hall. 

It struck a chord. The anticipation of seeing loved ones, the joy and the relief (particularly if you meet anyone coming off a flight from Oz) of even the most seasoned traveller in arriving at last. The excitement of embarking on new adventures, renewing old acquaintances and reinforcing the deepest connections of the heart. That moment when time and distance disappears and suddenly you can see, hear, touch each other for real.

No matter what the advances modern technology provides – and the advent of Skype is a wonderful thing, if I could only get them all the way down there on it – nothing beats that moment.

And my moment will come later today. Just before 9pm tonight, Egypt Air flight 9230 will touch down at Heathrow Airport and deliver my lovely Mum to me. To hear, see, touch for real. For a whole 10 days.

I’m excited.

Snow Stories…Fabulous Finchley

This is probably not the first snow post you will read today, nor is it likely to be the last you will stumble across particularly if you are reading anything about the UK. 

But I can’t help it. I get all excited and Australian when the white stuff falls so I beg your pardon today if I seem unoriginal.

Last night’s snow fall here in London has left 4-5cm of pristine whiteness over Fabulous Finchley as I discovered on opening the curtains this morning…

My snowy back garden

 …so I quickly dressed, cleared the front path…

Not that I want to seem like a big girl or anything but this shovelling  snow sh*t is hard work!
 …and set off to snap some of snowy Finchley.

A couple of inches covered the cars in the street – that’s quite a bit of snow for Londoners. (I can hear some of my followers from colder climes scoffing about now).

I passed a few early on in my snowy shuffle that were committed to business as usual…

Determined local restaurant staff braving the elements…
…as was this mad jogger. Just silly behaviour really!

 …but undeterred, I shuffled on until I reached my destination…

…and began to snap away.
Taken from the main gate above – I love the Narnia-esque quality of this shot (could that be Mr Tumnus up ahead?)

No tennis today…
…but plenty of action on the swings!
Families were out in force and it seemed that in every corner I beheld a flurry of activity…

There was much ‘work-in progress’ going on as well and even this poor pooch got caught up in the adventure of it all.

Doggone it! It looked much smaller before…

Maybe he should have paid better attention…

Helpful sign??
Anyway getting back to the action, it appeared that the park had been invaded by a few rather cool customers…
Hats off to the clever clogs who made this one!
Is it my turn on the swings yet?
Nice ‘do’
Do you think this one’s on the property ladder yet?
This seated cutie made me laugh out loud
Shrek in snow…love your work!

By now, all this shuffling about glove-less in the snow had developed me a yearning for a nice warming cuppa and the toasty cosiness of Gidday HQ so I headed for home…

Leaving Finchley’s snowy playground
A fabulous splash of colour in the wintery day
Gorgeous architecture just around the corner
Almost home…

 …and arrived, wide-eyed and happy and filled with that magical feeling that only a Winter Wonderland, and the anticipation of a steaming mug of hot chocolate, can bring.

Hope you find a little of your own magic this Sunday.

Great Southern Land…

So today is Australia Day. The day we down under celebrate the landing of the First Fleet at Sydney Cove in 1788, some 18 years after its discovery by Captain James Cook laying the claim of British Sovereignty at the threshold of a vast and unknown territory.

So what to blog about today, I thought? Could it be a potted history of our last 224 years? Or perhaps a little wander through the idiosyncracies and peccadillos of my fellow countrymen?
But then I knew – it just had to be the music. And more particularly, the music of my youth. So by clicking on all of the links below, you can take a little tour through the teenage years of a little Aussie sheila. Think BBQs, festivals, concerts, camping and much anthem-like, arms-raised, crowd-singing as you listen.

There was Australian Rock charting its course through hearts and minds with Cold Chisel, Icehouse, Little River BandAustralian Crawl, The AngelsMen At Work and personal fave, Noiseworks.

And let’s not forget those upper echelons of Aussie Pop with Kylie, Savage Garden, Kate Ceberano, Bachelor Girl and Jo Camilleri (and his Black Sorrows).

But the song that always sums up that great big land down under for me is a song by little known Gangajang – listen to the words and you’ll hear what I mean…

Have a bonza ‘Straya’ Day, peeps!

A Highland Fling…

After travelling for the last couple of weeks for work, on Friday night I was looking forward to a quiet weekend, catching up on a few chores and squeezing in a bit of chilling out. But in actual fact, Saturday became one of those days that kept unraveling and unfolding as the day progressed. 

After a slight over-sleep (meaning no chores pre-departure), a planned catch up with A-down-the-hill prior to a regular appointment at the hairdressers developed into somewhat of a larger day and after an impromptu movie matinee (Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows if you must know, and yes it was great!) I found myself at a Ceilidh.

‘A what?!’ I hear you say.

A Ceilidh.

A Ceilidh, pronounced ‘kay-lee’, is a traditional Scottish knees up, comprised of kilts, whisky and haggis. But mainly, it is about dancing, informal, fast-and-furious, ‘catch your breath between sets’ kind of dancing. So it’s just as well I had come completely unprepared for a night out – flat boots, jeans, long sleeved t-shirt and not a scrap of make-up – because before long, I was sweaty and ‘unkempt’, and absolutely loving it!

We arrived with A-down-the-hill’s Scottish contingent (McHubster is from north of the border you see), snaffled a table and the boys went off to queue for drinks and a spot of haggis. I had grand intentions getting my vegetarian haggis later in the evening but, well, I got rather busy. You see, the music started and the caller invited everyone to take the floor. After a walk through of the dance – usually comprised of a series of steps set to 16 bars which is then just repeated – we were off. And that’s pretty much the way the night went…all night.

The first dance was The Gay Gordons (don’t ask!) and then a little into the second dance, I was delighted to find I had just renewed my acquaintance with The Virginia Reel, a dance I learnt in primary school.

Three and half hours flew by. There was The Dashing White Sergeant, Strip The Willow, The Flying Scotsman, The Canadian Barndance, The Eightsome Reel and a few that we didn’t catch the name of, made stuff up (because we had no idea what we were doing) and had a laugh anyway. The haggis was piped in (and I do mean bagpiped) half way through the evening and Burns’ Address To A Haggis read with due ceremony, much theatre and sense of occasion (for those of you who don’t know, Burns’ Night falls this Wednesday on January 25th).

It was a fantastic night – young and old alike took the floor and it was a refreshing change to see the guys itching to get onto the dance floor to strut their stuff. There was a sense of joyful abandon in the hall – maybe the flow of whisky helped a little – but this was just a great, old-fashioned knees up and the best thing to do was leap off the deep end and give it a whirl.

If you are interested in finding out more you can click here for upcoming ceilidhs in London and here if you feel you really must swot up on a few of the steps.

But there’s really no need…sometimes a little improv. makes the best fun of all!

Postcard from Valencia…Ole!

Hola peeps! 
This week I have been in Valencia. And this being my first trip, I decided to Armchair Tour you around what I got up to. You should note, however, that this does not mean I did the tourist trail thing – if you are planning a little Spanish sojourn of your own to the region and want to read up more, you should click here.
First things first: Valencia is home to the mighty paella, a rice dish cooked over an open flame in a large pan of the same name. We tend to consider paella as the country’s national dish but in Spain, paella is a regional dish from Valencia. Ask a Valencian and they will tell you that there is only one paella – made from white rice, green vegetables, meat (rabbit, duck, chicken), land snails, beans and seasoning, and nothing else. All others are  pretenders: ‘seafood’ paella is not paella at all, but rather rice with vegetables and seafood.
Traditional paella – apparently all other comers are frauds and should be referred to as ‘rice with…’ .

Oh and yes, I had some – it was delicious!

So now we’ve cleared that up, let’s move on to activities of the meandering kind.

Evening in Spain begins quite late and most nights, we were starving meeting for dinner at 9pm. On our second night, our Regional Director was keen to show us something of his original hometown so we wandered through Valencia’s city centre with a few stops along the way. This is largely how it went:

So much gorgeous architecture in Valencia
The Tower and La Catedral
La Catedral
Gothic architecture at La Catedral
(In case you were wondering, I really liked the Cathedral)
Still walking – quite thirsty work!
So we stopped here for a beer…bottoms up!
Another lovely street scene, but by now we were wondering when we were going to get to eat
Our dinner destination at last – where we ate, drank and be’d merry
Gin is a HUGE deal in Spain with a good bar stocking somewhere between 20-30 different varieties. Knowing my prediliction for the stuff, said Regional Manager introduced me to his friend, The Owner, who gave us a tipple of his ‘best’!
Absolutely stuffed with good food and wine, we waddled along more streets in search of a calorie-burning nightcap…
…which we found here as well as a bit of a boogie-on-down.
Walking back to the hotel later on, we passed this monument. I  could not for the life of me find out who it was, despite passing it 4 times throughout the 2 and a half day trip – but it remained an inspiration in spite of its anonymity…
Yes, it’s a blurry pic but I was really ‘giving it some welly’ and the lass behind the lens had been with us all night. Nuff said!

So that was the night before but the armchair tour doesn’t stop here. After our meeting was finished, we had some time before our flights back to…well, wherever home was for us all so it was Valencia’s sunny skies that beckoned – and a rather unique lunch venue.

The City of Arts and Sciences is a collection of five areas created in the dry river bed of the diverted River Turia. The work began in 1996 under the stewardship of architect and local-lad-made-good, Santiago Calatrava, and is very modern compared with the city tour of the night before. There is the Opera House and Performing Arts Centre, the Prince Felipe Museum of Sciences, L’Hemisferic – containing an IMAX cinema, planetarium and laserium, the gardens and walkway, and L’Oceanografic which is a bit like an open air Sea World.

Sunny Valencian skies over the City of Arts and Sciences
The Opera House – looks a little familiar to me?
The Prince Felipe Museum of Science was designed to emulate the skeleton of a whale.
View standing on traffic island in the middle of the Pont del Grau
View of the Prince Felipe Musem of Sciences, L’Hemisferic and the Opera House (or El Palau de les Arts Reina Sofía)
Restaurante Submarino at L’Oceanografic, our venue for lunch
Surrounded by the local wildlife. I’ll have one of those and two of those…
Submarino Bar – amazingly cool lighting…looks like anenomes
And after lunch it was a 40 minute stroll back to the hotel along the old river bed for me
Amazing what they can create from a dry old riverbed, isn’t it?

So it was with regret that I waved good bye to that glorious, glorious sunshine, returned to the hotel and prepared to catch my plane home. But not before I had discovered that London’s main man had found a little inspiration of his own here too…

Valencia’s very own Boris bikes!

Did I say at all that I love my job?

No?

Well I do!

If Language Be The Food Of Love…

Eureka!

It means I have found it.

The El Dorado, the essence of life, the I Ching, the holy grail…

It’s a funny thing isn’t it, that when you start exploring a particular topic, the floodgates open and suddenly, you are awash. Where previously you could find or you knew very little, in an instant a whole deluge of opportunities to broaden a particular horizon appear.
 
Those of you who have been following along for a little while now will know my fascination for the trials and tribulations of the translation kind here in my adopted homeland. The nonsensical expressions of the natives, the faux pas of my own making, the idiosyncracies of place names and the general labour of love that is communicating with the locals.

Source: pinterest

And let me put this in context. I come from a land Down Under where women glow, men chunder and pretty much the only language spoken is English. As do the locals – speak English I mean…although there are about half a million Australians in the UK…but I digress.

And my I Ching? It is quite simply the definitive Anglo-EU Translation Guide. Shared with me (wry smile for free) with my over-the-partition German work colleague.

Some were familiar from my Boden Bonanza back in May 2011.  But there were others that were new – and enlightening. ‘You must come for dinner soon’ does not constitute an invitation from a Brit (but may from any of the other nationalities in my sphere). ‘I only have a few minor comments’ is not a well done/pat on the back but is rather likely to precede a complete re-working of…well, everything you were working on.

Needless to say I spent much of my first few years in Blighty hungry and over-worked.

There’s been a spike of visits and page views over my last post, where I introduced you to Jack Scott from Perking the Pansies (reciprocal back-scratching at its best, I say). Jack has set up a very useful Expat Glossary on his site to help the immigrant ingenue in fair Anatolia navigate the colourful, lotus-eating-expat populous. Inspired by this charitable act, I have decided to create a glossary of my own, Mind The Gap! to help those fresh-off-the-boat to chart a safe course through the nuances of the indigenous vernacular here in the UK.

As the disclaimer says, Mind The Gap! represents the views and experiences of the author and whoever else she can earbash at the time. All idioms, ideas and idiosyncracies have been pinched without prejudice…and without apology.

In the spirit of community, sharing our experiences to enrich others and supporting our expat brothers-and-sisters-in-arms (aka blah blah blah), if you’re prepared to be earbashed and pinched without prejudice, let me know if you’ve got any personal pearlers to add.

Source: pinterest

You never know. This could mark the beginning of a quiet revolution…