Home again

Back in Oxford! Arrived at 5:15am as the temperature was struggling to rise above freezing. Thick frost and grey clouds greeted me as I walked from the bus to my home. Quite a contrast with the 27C and sunny skies that I left behind in NZ!

The trip was uneventful...which made it seem rather longer coming back than going. I left Auckland at about 1pm Boxing Day, and my arrival time was 6:15 NZ time the next day. Rather more time in an airplane than is comfortable, to say the least. They did turn us out into the Singapore airport for 2 hours, but it was at some horrible hour (in NZ time) like 2 in the morning, so I was unable to fully appreciate looking at Ferragamo shoes and Gucci handbags (okay, you're right, I am never fully appreciative of these sorts of things!), nor was I in the mood to avail myself of the gym and swimming pool. They do offer computers with free internet access, so I amused myself for a while answering emails.

I did learn a couple of things on the return journey. Although I was reluctant to leave New Zealand and end my fabulous work/vacation trip, after spending over a day in the cramped economy class of an airplane, I found myself longing for home! Amazing how quickly one's perspective can change. I also learned that British Airways and Qantas seats must be ever so slightly different - I was (relatively) comfortable on the Qantas flight on the way down, but on the BA return flight my knees were really painful after about the first 6 hours.

Unlike the Qantas flight, the BA flight did not offer us food at regular 1.5 hour intervals. In fact there was a stretch of about 10 hours when they left us entirely alone. I was amazed at how many people just went right to sleep, and seemed to stay asleep! I did manage a couple of hours, but the rest of the time listened to music on my iPod, watched movies and wandered about trying to relieve my sore knees.

Movies - I think I watched five. Here are my reveiws:

Wall-E - Described in the Dallas Morning News as "Pixar's surprisingly political postmodern masterpiece," it is about the environment, consumerism, technology, and...okay it's a really fun movie about a robot with a cockroach for a friend, and...well, I won't spoil it for you.
Harry Potter and the prisoner of somewhere that sounds like Azerbaijan (but isn't) - mildly entertaining.
Ghost Town - a good part for Ricky Gervais of The Office - silly premise about a man who can see ghosts, who all nag him to do things for them so they can rest in peace - again, mildly entertaining.
Julia - an alcoholic woman kidnaps a young boy in order to get money to escape her circumstances - no happy endings with this one. Tilda Swinton as Julia is fantastic.
Bottle Shock - about the rise to fame of California's Napa Valley wines in 1976 when they won against French wines in a blind tasting in France. Funny, interesting...and brought back happy memories of my years living in California.

I tried to watch Mamma Mia. I really tried. I've been told how funny it is, how entertaining, how great the music is. A friend gave it this most rave of reviews - "Even my husband liked it." But...well...first of all, I don't really like musicals. Except perhaps for the ones on the Simpsons, but then, they are spoofing musicals. Opera? yes; musicals? sorry, not so much. Second, I was never an Abba fan - my tastes ran to Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young; Santana and others on the more 'Rock' side of the spectrum, or musicians more towards the 'folk' side, like Joni Mitchel, Joan Baez, James Taylor. And finally...I find it hard to get excited about a movie whose premise is that a young woman doesn't know which of the three men her mother had a summer fling with is her father. Really -- how many parents of a young girl would say that their dream for their daughter is that she sleep with multiple men in a summer and have a child by one of them? So why do we find such behaviour (and its outcomes) so amusing?

Well, piles of mail await me, and the suitcase is still only partly unpacked.

This will be my last travel blog. Someone has suggested I keep blogging, but I fear my life in Oxford will not be so enthralling - I have visions of blogs that read: "I woke up and had a coffee. Then I went to work. I worked on a report. I came home and went for a run. I ate dinner. I went to bed." I'm sure I would not have many readers for long.

On the other hand, I have enjoyed writing this blog, and may start a new, more 'reflective' blog. If you ask me nicely, I'll let you know how to find it. But first, I have a few days of vacation left - I'm off to my cousins' farm in Dorset tomorrow.

Thanks for listening!

Farewell New Zealand

Leaving in a few hours to head home to Oxford, thought I would post some final pictures. Included are some shots of Cathedral Cove, a location used in the filming of Prince Caspian of the Narnia series. The location was used because of the rock archway, which mirrors the train tunnel from which the children are transported back to Narnia. I've also included some pictures of the great family I've been staying with. Eventually I'll sort through the hundreds of photos and put some on facebook...eventually!

Christmas Day

Christmas is well and truly here down under.The aroma of turkey is filling the entire house, veggies are cooking, and we are waiting for some Chinese friends to arrive and then we'll eat. This morning I had brunch with a number of friends - Malaysian Chinese, Dutch, American and Singaporean. I had brought to NZ a magnum of champagne from a vineyard I visited in Oz, so I took that and we had mimosas (buck's fizz in the UK). Oh yes, there was some food involved as well! A wonderful (if bizarre) assortment of cultural delicacies including noodles with fish cake, muffins with raspberries from the garden, lychee and waffles with maple syrup.

It is hard to believe that in less than 20 hours from now I'll be almost in Sydney, and then on to Singapore, and London. Hard to believe, hard to leave. Where did a month go?

Perhaps the strangest thing is remembering how hard it was to leave the UK -- how I felt that being here would stretch thin relationships with my friends, how the unknowns of this trip loomed large. Once on the plane I was fine, but some of you can attest to the fact of how stressed I was as my departure grew near! Okay...part of my 'leaving problem' was due to the fact that I was trying to complete two months of work in one, and not sleeping well. But now on leaving I feel a strange reluctance that reminds me of what I was experiencing a month ago. This time I am not concerned about my friendships (skype, email, facebook - they all make the world much smaller), and I will certainly be happy to see everyone I left behind in Oxford. Perhaps it is just change that I find hard. I've grown accustomed to this wanderer's life -- the joy of learning new things about people (including myself), seeing wonderful places, my few changes of clothes. Settling down to a more mundane existence again will not be easy.

So...I wish any of you who have nothing better to do on Christmas Day and are reading this a very happy day!

Christmas Eve in a foreign land

Most of you who read this will (hopefully) be sleeping as I write. It is a strange experience to be so far away from most of my friends and family - to be warm and tanned (though wet for the past couple of days) whereas most of you are surrounded by snow, rain, frost, and cold; to be going to bed as you are thinking about mid-morning coffee; to be walking daily among Samoans, Tongans, and Maori; to be faced with wide open spaces instead of the narrow streets of Oxford. It is certainly a wonderful experience to be in a land, in a culture so different from my own.

But there is something about Christmas that always makes one long for home I think. It doesn't seem to matter whether or not that home ever really existed. The empty commercial hype, the talk of gifts and giving, the references to 'Christmas spirit' - these all leave us longing for people to share with, people to draw close to, a place to belong ... a family, a community. Sadly, in our short lives this longing is only fulfilled in part, and often not at all.

I am greatly blessed to have both friends and family who surround me with love. And in this land so far away from many of you, I find there is 'room in the inn' for me with a family who have opened their home and hearts to me this Christmas. The Pelz family work with the same organization that I do, used to live in Oxford and attend the same church as I do. We knew one another, but were not close friends. We got to know one another best when they were moving and I was jobless, and therefore available to help them pack and clean. And now ... here I am, several years later - finding that here on the 'other side' of the world is welcome, here home, here community and communion.

We are well into Christmas Eve in the Pelz family. Presents are being wrapped, Jane and I are cooking up a storm (tuna, shrimp and veggies on the bbq tonight, turkey tomorrow. a new dessert recipe baking in the oven), young Josh is watching yet another Disney channel Christmas movie (who knew there were so many? not me!). Tonight a midnight service, which brings back wonderful memories of my childhood - getting to stay up late, carols and eager anticipation, a church filled with candles. I know, though, that trying to relive those magical times, trying to find meaning in all the trappings of the season, is not what is truly important. Nor, even, are friends and family - they will fail us too.

Came across this quotation by John Stackhouse Jr. the other day, so I'll end with it, as I think it points the way through all disappointments, past and present, and provides a basis for the only kind of community that has a chance of really lasting:

"Carols stir us. Holy words inspire us. The golden glow from the manger warms us. A little religion at Christmas is fine. But that glow in the manger comes from the Light of the world. It exposes evil and either redeems it or destroys it. The babe in the manger is far more than an object for sentimental sighs. He is the Son of God who must be accepted as ruler - or confronted as rival."

Maori culture

I can't believe how fast the days are passing here. Suddenly it seems as if time is speeding up - I expect this always happens when one is approaching the end of travels that have been as fantastic as this time has been for me.

I am currently staying with a family with children (aged 8 and 11) who used to live in Oxford. Living with children is fun! Of course it is -- all the hard work of raising them has been done for me, and I can enjoy them, and give them back when they are naughty! It has slowed me down though ... getting them out of the door for any activity takes time. But this is a good thing for me I think, as I am only just realizing that I need some 'down' time to recover from the frantic activity of the past weeks.

On Saturday I decided that I need at least one day out of the sun, less I absorb too many chemicals from sunscreen or turn my skin into leather. So I went to the Auckland museum. They have a terrific display of Maori artifacts, and also a cultural performace which I attended. Fascinating!! The carving is amazing, the history sad. Promised the Queen's protection in 1840, this didn't happen, and war broke out between them and the settlers who were taking over their land. Now there have been both apologies and financial settlements, but I wonder how much resentment still lingers. More Maori youth are becoming quite proud of their heritage, and traditional tattoos are much more common as a sign of their identity. You can see the kinds of tattoos on the photos of carvings I include below.

The other day I was thinking that I had not yet sung a Christmas carol, and that I wasn't feeling as if Christmas was approaching. That all changed as I accompanied my friends to a Christmas drive-through at their church to sing in a small choir of carollers. I got to sing 12 carols over and over again -- three and a half times to be exact! Every Christmas I am overwhelmed by amazing words in some of the carols, and I wonder what people who don't believe what they are singing are thinking as they sing such things:

Hail the heav'n-born Prince of Peace!

Hail the Son of Righteousness!

Light and life to all He brings

Ris'n with healing in His wings

Mild He lays His glory by

Born that man no more may die

Born to raise the sons of earth

Born to give them second birth

Hark! The herald angels sing"

Glory to the newborn King!"

The drive-through nativity was great, with lots of kids from the church participating as angels, shepherds and so on. The church has a long curved driveway, and the Christmas story was told in word and actions as cars drove slowly along - angels proclaiming to shepherds, centurions taking a census, an inn-keeper with his "No Vacancy" sign, and...real sheep, calves, donkey, and a llama doing an excellent imitation of a camel! Over 2,000 cars drove through in 4 days, giving people from the community a chance to learn something about the Christ of Christmas. Great idea - in a warm, dry climate!

New Zealand!

I know you are all dying to know more about the ant poem alluded to in my last missive, so I'll include at the end of this blog. But for those who would rather look at wonderful photos and hear about my day in the sun at the beach so that you can get to work immediately on your vicarious tan, I'll start there. This is what the west coast looks like, about 40 minutes from Auckland where I'm staying. Amazing to have such a wild place so close to a big city.







Continuing on up the path to the right of the photographer is a gannet colony. Below is a mum and chick, and part of the colony at the end of the little peninsula.


















Below is the beach I swam at today, seen from a distance, and then on the beach, the family (minus dad) with whom I'm staying. Clouds cleared considerably by the time we got to the beach, and the kids and I (age 8 and 11) played and played in the surf. There was a lifeguard, with flags marking a very small part of the beach where you could swim. Once in the water we realized why the area was so small - there was an incredible rip tide pulling us sideways all the time, and we were constantly being dragged out of the lifeguarded area. Still...it was great fun, even if the water was a bit cool. Isn't the black sand fabulous?!!













Up till today I've been a bit of a slug, not really doing much except talking to my friends. For some reason, jet lag or something has hit me finally as I crossed the two extra hours from Oz to NZ, and I haven't been sleeping well. But today being the first day of school holidays, we have all decided to make the best of my last week here...so let the adventures begin! Sleep or no sleep. Stayed tuned on this blog.


And now, to poetry. The ant poem is called Departmental, and is by Robert Frost. Read it 'on the surface' for a crazy view of ants, or leap into thoughts about the relationship between individuals and society, and one's place in the overall scheme of things. Either way, I think it's rather fun.

An ant on the tablecloth
Ran into a dormant moth
Of many times his size.
He showed not the least surprise.
His business wasn't with such.
He gave it scarcely a touch,
And was off on his duty run.
Yet if he encountered one
Of the hive's enquiry squad
Whose work is to find out God
And the nature of time and space,
He would put him onto the case.
Ants are a curious race;
One crossing with hurried tread
The body of one of their dead
Isn't given a moment's arrest-
Seems not even impressed.
But he no doubts report to any
With whom he crosses antennae,
And they no doubt report
To the higher up at court.
Then word goes forth in Formic:
"Death's come to Jerry McCormic,
Our selfless forager Jerry.
Will the special Janizary
Whose office it is to bury
The dead of the commissary
Go bring him home to his people.
Lay him in state on a sepal.
Wrap him for shroud in a petal.
Embalm him with ichor of nettle.
This is the word of your Queen."
And presently on the scene
Appears a solemn mortician;
And taking formal position
With feelers calmly atwiddle,
Seizes the dead by the middle,
And heaving him high in the air,
Carries him out of there.
No one stands round to stare.
It is nobody else's affair.

It couldn't be called ungentle.
But how thoroughly departmental.

a quiet day in the country

Today my cousins took me to an art gallery where there was a special exhibit of post second world war haute couture. The displays were terrific, but I think I enjoyed the photographs taken for Harpers Bazaar and Vogue the best. The lighting, the contrast of the very rich and the poorer people and surroundings, the decadence, was captured so perfectly in black and white. Some of the styles of clothing I recognized (in muted and less expensive form) from pictures of my childhood.

It has been quite restful being with my cousins, and really nice to meet family on my dad's side. My father was a bit of an 'afterthought' (or lack of thought) in his family, quite a bit younger than his other siblings. And then he fathered me when he was 47 - I'm the youngest of three. Which means all of my first cousins on his side of the family are dead now, and most of my second cousins are older than I. These folk outside Melbourne are second cousins, and there may be a once-removed involved but I forget what that means. But they are still Vindens - very much into music, and they bear the family resemblance (which I don't...but they remind me of my father), and we discover other little similarities the more we are together.  Family is good - I've had so little contact with extended family during my lifetime, growing up in Canada with almost all the relatives over in the UK.  It is great to make contact.

My cousin Peter is a prof in the forestry department at the uni, which has a branch out here in the countryside where they live.  They have 55 acres on a hillside, with an olive grove and lots of fruit trees, including many cider apples.  I'm about to sample the cider now.  In addition to olive oil and olives, they also make fantastic chocolates and marmalade.  All this while working full time.

Peter and another prof have invented a way of microwaving wood to make it dry and porous, and then 'filling' it with resin to make it durable. The entire process takes about two seconds (with a very strong microwave beam!) and the wood looks exactly like normal wood, but is 7 times more durable. They are looking for a company to get on board (no pun intended!) with them to mass produce it. It would be an incredible way to save forests.

Tomorrow I'm of to NZ, wondering what adventures await me there. I'm hoping for a more restful time there as well - Queensland was great but I was up very early every day and then it was go, go, go all day long.

By the way...I forgot to mention about my trip 'up north' to warmer climes (!) - I also saw a field of wallabies.  And I licked a lemon ant.  Repeatedly. Yes. It does taste like lemon. I was going to eat him but felt he would probably like to go home and tell his friends about his adventures.

Now, for the poetry lovers among you - do you know the origin of the following lines from a poem about ants? Well, actually, it is really about modern life, culture and identity:

Then word goes forth in Formic,

"Death's come to Jerry McCormic,

Our fearless forager Jerry."

(p.s. Formic is an acid excreted by ants, which is like a trail for other ants to follow)