The Beginnings of Festive Spirit

It seems I have passive smoked for 6 months now, not on purpose of course, but it seems the majority of Italians linger within a cloud of their own cigarette smoke. I've giggled and frowned at the women in their Gucci heels, too prude and proud to pick up their miniature dogs poo, that appears scattered all over the cobble streets. I've worked and reiterated more words than I feel I ever wrote at university and yet we’re not even half way through the year. I’ve sat through meals and awkward conversations not understanding a word that is spoken. And I’ve been blessed with finding love and being embraced into a whole new family.

I find myself looking forward to a week full of family and friends that speak my own language and know me without the awkward language barrier. Feeling so embraced in my new found foreign family is wonderful but when it comes to Christmas surrounded by a language I find exhausting to keep up with, I believe it would probably make me feel more homesick than I am every other day.

Homesickness is pushed aside at the moment, too busy to consider it and there are others on the course that have bigger problems and issues that I’d much rather care to and worry about. Yet I know when I stop for holidays, it will catch up with me. To be surrounded by family and loved ones in my life for a week will make all this hard work seem worthwhile. A little treat to myself and to Marco!

Introducing Marco to my Brother and Sister is what I’m really looking forward to, I can’t wait for him to see and understand more of my side of life. He’s probably a bit nervous but I’m sure after a few Christmas beverages and good British home cooking, he’ll forget that he was ever worried! It’ll be unfortunate that Mum and Dad can’t join us all for Christmas. However, they will be living the kiwi Christmas, with BBQ’s, beers and sunshine and hopefully surrounding themselves with jolly people to appreciate the festive spirit, or at least what there is of it in New Zealand! Christmas trees replaced by Pohutakawa’s and snow boots for jandles. A whole different version of Christmas! I hope one day in the future we’ll all have a Christmas together… but for now, appreciate this Christmas, wherever we are in the world.

What one week away does...

Sometimes it shocks me,
A little like electricity,
It floods through my heart,
Tears my thoughts apart
and spreads a smile across my face.

Some think love comes from Cupid,
I think that's rather stupid,
For there is always love stored away,
Inside us, ready for the day,
When we meet the one that has the key,
to spark us to love within reality.

No Place Like Home

Over the years, I’ve been given and also created the opportunity to see many beautiful places. This evening, Marco and I walked up the nearest hill Monte Canto. At nine in the evening with the fresh breeze nipping at our ears, we headed out the house. I was on a mission to walk off my dinner and so decided that I wanted to walk or should I say, struggle up Monte Canto. At the top of the path is a church and a huge poster of the Pope. Put it this way, we weren’t interested in going to church tonight, but the steep stone path leads to a terrific point where the sight of local towns and countryside can be appreciated. From there, we could see the buildings illuminated by the yellow of the street lamps, also rows and patterns of small lantern lights set in the graveyards, the lights from scooters racing down the road, every so often the shout of merry people down in the town. It was so good to feel so far away from it.

It’s been a long time since I’ve been able to ‘get away’. Some people think of a getaway as a holiday to another country, the sea and sandy beaches. For me, there was one place I could get away.

I get driven crazy living in a city. Only this evening I said to Marco that I think my mind has built a psychological barrier against living in a city, only yesterday when I was in Bergamo city, the traffic, the people and generally just the buzz of life in the city makes my head spin. I suffered with this also in Auckland, however nice the city can be, it’s just not for me.

When I lived in Auckland, my Thursday evenings would consist of me packing up my dirty washing, eating whatever was in the fridge that would go off and finding some clean clothes, for when Friday evening came after finishing work at school, I was in the car. Stuck in traffic usually! Stuck on Auckland’s equivalent of spaghetti junction waiting half an hour to get on the motorway. The traffic and the weeks stress only made what was to come even better.

Most Friday nights I would arrive to my parents with dinner in the oven and a glass of wine already poured. My parents and I would spend the evening talking and complaining about our week, while slowly finishing the first bottle of wine. It was so nice to be home, but it was also nice not to hear the traffic of the main road outside my window.

At night, when at my parents, the darkness is so apparent. With no street lights, your eyes divert to the array of stars spread above. The brightness of the Milky Way is so stunning, I remember many nights coming home and sitting in the car just gazing up at the sky. On occasions I saw shooting stars and satellites making their way across the darkness.

But, I think the best thing and the thing I miss the most was the view in the day time. Rain or shine, I was always so happy to sit and watch life pass by. With the Tui’s in the bush calling out their beautiful songs and the drunken pigeons sailing through the air above, the green of trees clashing with the brightness of the sky. I could sit all day in that garden.



When I was leaving New Zealand, I said to my Dad “You better not sell this house before I come back!” Once back in England, I joked but with a certain amount of seriousness I reiterated what I said, but adding that they better not sell the house before I get married in the garden! Strange ideas, but I miss looking out on that view at the weekends. I miss being able to go there for my down time (and the bottles of wine).

Scooters and Trumpets?

Since slipping into the chair behind the desk, quietly typing notes and listening to the lecturer became part of my everyday life again, my life seems to have made a full circle. What I did become aware of yesterday, was that I was forgetting to appreciate my surroundings, I was getting lost in the haze of study that was starting to envelop me.

It wasn’t until yesterday, when I was walking down the cobble stone streets, pizza in hand (which I have to say was a special treat for my lunch that day), that Hope and I heard the sound of a trumpet. Over whelmed with the beautiful melody, we thought that someone must be practising in one of the apartments above the street. As we approached the school, we found where the sound was coming from; we spotted a man walking absentmindedly up the street, at this point unusually there were no cars hurtling passed, dressed in normal attire, and with a timeworn hat placed on his head. The melody he was playing had no particular rhythm or order, but the acoustics bouncing off the buildings was anything to make your heart melt and realise (with pizza in hand) that you are actually in Italy. What made it even more cliché, was while we were watching him, a woman came to her window and waved her white handkerchief to the man.

A few times, I’ve seen something and thought “That is so Italian! I have to write it down”, but in truth we’re surrounded by this wonderful culture and as days go by, we’re getting more used to it. What makes me laugh the most, are the people on their scooters. Many times I’ve seen people driving a scooter, with a cigarette pursed between their lips, or even better I saw one with a cigar! Often you catch them coming home from the supermarket with their weekly shopping balancing between their legs. Or even better, I saw a man driving a scooter with a newly purchased curtain pole towering over him! It’s fantastic.

Often we’re found at a café just up the hill from our school, here we’re becoming locals. Stopping two or three times a day, most of the time for coffee or simply for a change of scenery. Sometimes, we’re lucky that not just the barman recognises us, but even the local batty old woman comes over to say ‘Salve’! On our walk to the café, it has been known to nearly get mowed over by mosquito sounding scooters or 50cc bikes driving like they’re racing down the hill. One particular day as we were walking back from our coffee break, I overheard a woman talking to a dog saying over and over again “Patatona! Patatona!”, which in English means big potato. Simple things!

It’s not hard to discover beauty, but having only been walking the same street for the past two weeks, it has become rather like automatic pilot mode.

Nutella and Banana on Toast...

It’s unusual for me to write about love. Not because I have not felt it but more so because my body and mind have never been over taken by it. It also seems that many people avoid writing about love these days; I guess under the public eye, it can be scrutinized and torn apart in one way or another. Maybe Shakespeare experienced the same thing with Anne Hathaway; maybe he fought against the forces to express his love for her. Who knows? But I do feel as though the general outlook on love changes depending on personal experience.

The reaction from my friends over the last few weeks, in regards to my new love, is that of either thinking we’re crazy or that the situation is quite romantic. I like to think it’s both.

I had been told by my mum that when I meet the right person, I will know. I remember Tesneem telling me her love story about her husband, that when she first met him she thought “Oh no!” a shock realisation that the person standing in front of her was the person she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. I have to admit, I never thought it would happen to me.

So when I was invited to a party with my flatmate, I never thought that I would bump into the man that I would fall head over heels for. It started with simple conversation about travel and our experiences abroad, by the end of the evening his friends were fighting for his attention. What amazed me was that he could walk away from our conversation to pour a drink or tend to his friends for ten minutes, come back and know exactly where we ended our conversation.

These intense hour long chats continued to fit into our daily lives even when he had returned to Berlin, where he has been living for the last year. Let’s just say, technology like Skype is amazing! We’ve both found it slightly odd just how perfect things seem between us, whatever we seem to have a discussion about, we have a similar viewpoint. They say opposites attract, and after trying, testing and failing that theory, I am more than happy to be with a man that has a similar outlook on life as me.

The day he arrived back in Berlin at the beginning of August, he was on the internet finding me a flight to visit him at the end of the month. It seemed crazy at the time and we were both a little nervous that it would be awkward when we saw each other again, with fear that we were falling for the people on Skype and not the real thing. However, upon my arrival to Berlin, I was greeted firstly by a bouquet of appropriately coloured orange and yellow flowers (my favourite) and a lovely big bear hug. It was a strange feeling, as if we had known each other for a long time. The train ride home was long and with people looking at us strangely, it felt like we still had some ice to break.

After our first meal together and being able to have a giggle at the salad that sprung out of my mouth, totally first date material, the atmosphere was more relaxed between us and we were able to enjoy a lovely walk through the city of Berlin, from the tower to the Reichstag. The weekend continued to be a relaxed and carefree learning journey about each other, as to what to buy in the supermarket, to our similar dare-devil approach to breakfast one morning… yes Nutella and banana on toast works…and is amazing.



I spent five glorious days with this lovely man and I can’t wait to spend so many more with him. For now we have to be patient and see how the next few months plan out for us both. One way or another I will be staying here in Bergamo until July next year, within that time and after…who knows?

Troppo Caldo!

In the month of August, Italy seems to shut down. Now, I was warned in advance about this but didn’t really believe that I would walk through a ghost town here in this vibrant country. August is the time for Italian’s to go to their holiday spot, and with an understanding of the heat here now, I don’t blame them. With 34ᵒc heat pounding on your face every time you’re stupid enough to walk in the sun, the need and want for a source of water is unimaginable! I swear if this heat carries on I will start seeing mirages and possibly an oasis! At least being by the beach or a river, you can attempt to remedy the constant feel of sweat on your body, only while you’re in the water, but least there would be an attempt! This leads me to my adventures with my flatmate.

Just over a week ago, my flatmate and I agreed to go on a bike ride. With an orange polka dot bike, I sailed through the crazy streets in hot pursuit of Bruno on his mountain bike. I have to add here, that it’s very weird for me to cycle without a helmet, with years of drumming it into my head that it will save my life and a hum of my mother’s horror stories from her work, it felt extraordinary to feel the wind battle through my short hair. I became very aware that the front brake was a bit dodgy as well, any emergency stopping would probably see me in a heap with a bicycle on top of me. After cycling through a lovely park, we went down a huge hill and into woodland. At which point, my borrowed bike became helpless. Abandoning the cycling and continuing on foot, we took a walk through the mud and found some great bike trails. It was decided on the way home that Bruno would see about claiming an abandoned mountain bike at his workplace. Knowing that most Italians cycle around on a bike with no breaks and flat tyres, I didn’t hold any steep expectations.

A few days later, we were at Bruno’s work place rooting around for a bicycle pump. Having pumped up the tyres and raised the saddle, we were ready to rumble. Out on the open road, my front brake pads fell off. At which point, I thought ‘If I die now, I’ve had a good life!’ undeterred, we carried on. Each day we cycled further away from the city, on one particularly hot day, we found ourselves at the rivers’ edge with people swarming from all directions. It seemed that with the lack of beaches, the river was the next best thing. I tried to ignore the brown stodgy colour of the water as local children bathed and splashed around. We decided that it would be a good destination for a picnic, so after a shopping trip we prepared a lovely little picnic, complete with some traditional sandwiches, beers, books and music.



Once we arrived at the river, we were dripping with sweat, really nice thought huh? But to be honest, this was soon remedied by the chilling mountain water the river had to offer. Unlike the time before, the river was now crystal clear and very clean. We sat on the rocks and cracked open our first beer, leaving the others in the water to chill. We spent a good four hours at the river side playing cards, reading our books or simply just basking in the sun. It was the first time in a very long time that I can remember those kind of adventures, it reminded me of college days with the disposable BBQ’s and the beers in the park. However, I was reminded of the uniqueness of this opportunity as I gazed up at the beautiful mountains that were set out before us, and whilst listening to Italian conversation of the old geezers dressed suitably in their speedos.



It seems that my flatmates have taken me under their wings, what with trips out on the bikes, visiting the local bars and joining them with their friends at concerts or parties. On my first weekend in the flat, my artistic Italian flatmate invited myself and Bruno to accompany her to a party outside of town with some of her friends. With no plans of my own, I jumped at the opportunity to join them. I realised as soon as we had arrived at the party that I had found people that were down to earth and easy going, in a way that I was used to with my own friends at home, I was unaware that these types of Italians existed! As the BBQ was being saved from the sudden storm that had rolled over, I found myself in the kitchen with Barbara cutting up a watermelon and emptying a bottle of vodka and juice into the concoction.

Before long the food was being dished up and I was comfortable in talking English with a few of the people at the party. I felt a little mean at the time as I had stolen the host of the party and kept him busy chatting and laughing with me most of the evening. Having come from Berlin to see his friends for a few days, I saw it as important that he also share his night with them. However, the conversation was too good to give up and as his friends struggled for his attention, we put the world to right sharing stories of our travels and experiences. It became quite apparent that we clicked.

A few weeks later, I find myself in countdown mode for my flight to Berlin to visit him. There are many things I could talk about regarding this situation, but I have decided it should wait until my next blog when I return from Berlin.

Apart from night life and bike rides, my flatmates have also helped me with the matter of banking here in Italy. After an absolute nightmare and my money ending up in every way shape and form in England, I decided the easiest option was to open an account over here. Plus with a part time job, I needed some way of getting paid. I went on a mission and found a Barclays bank, I surprised myself walking into the branch, after all the hassle they gave me in England. A nice young man explained what I needed to open an account and off I trot. A few days later, I found myself sitting next to Bruno in a waiting room ready to battle with the office staff to give me what Italians call Codice Fiscale, which is their equivalent to personal identity number. Spending only 10 minutes at the desk, we walked out with my personal number and smiles on our faces. Brilliant first part of the process done. Next was opening a bank account, as I mentioned earlier, August is holiday time, so it turns out that the young man that helped me a week before was now on holidays. Being the only person in the branch that spoke an ample amount of English, I was a little worried about going there alone. But I had to do it, with papers in hand I walk in determined to show what I wanted. Two days later and two further trips to the bank, Bruno had joined me. The previous day had seen me having a communication break down with the staff there and I was at the end of my patience. Thankfully, the ball is rolling and I may be able to have some of my money soon!

It’s crazy the coincidences that come up. It seems that things have slipped into place since moving to Bergamo. About three weeks ago, I met an English girl on the train between Bergamo and Brescia. At this point I was still staying in Brescia and it was the day I had found my new flat. Jackie was over for 10 days attending a wedding as a bridesmaid near Lago d’Garda. We shared our own stories and talked of England. After chatting for half an hour on the rattling train, we exchanged numbers and promised to meet for a coffee upon her arrival back in Bergamo. Ten days later, after only three hours sleep the night before, I met Jackie in town and took the bus up to Città Alta. The most beautiful part of the city, the old cobble streets lined with quaint little shops. We wondered around the streets a little while and decided on a place to have an early lunch before Jackie had to get the bus to the airport for her flight in the afternoon.

As we sat with our delicious pizzas and glasses of refreshing white wine, we were serenaded by a guitarist on the street. It was lovely and fantastic to have the opportunity to chat to and share time with an English person. Upon arrival at the train station, where Jackie was to find her bus, a familiar accent piped up “Are you Aussie?” This made me giggle and I told her my little story about my weird accent. An Aussie woman and her child chatted to us until the bus came. I discovered that she was here on a year exchange while studying education at a university in Sydney. This coincidence made me laugh, of course when I told her that I was here to study Montessori Education, she jumped at the chance to grab my number and arrange meeting for coffee.

So a combination of Aussies and Brits, mixed in with a whole lot of luck and coincidence in regards to flatmates and new people in my life has found me here, with less than two weeks until I start my new job and studying Montessori. Awesome.

Drawing with a dictionary...

Sometimes things just fall into place. I’ve been very lucky the last week! Over a week ago I put myself on a housing website to search for a room of my own. After many crazy emails that I had to Google translate, I was found one in particular that sounded like a good deal. I sent a few emails and arranged to see it last Tuesday.

With the prospect of finding a flat in mind, I was in good stead for last weekend. While still staying at my friends in Brescia, I spent the day around the house. A few weeks earlier, I had purchased some pencils and charcoals so I could start sketching again and give me something to do. As I sat sketching some pictures on the table outside, I became aware that the 14 year old girl next door was very interested in what I could draw. In my broken Italian, I understood that she wanted me to draw a horse for her. I thought for a moment and considered the fact that I’d never drawn a horse before. My reply was “insegnare tu” which was possibly a bad idea, considering I didn’t know how to draw a horse; I had told the child I’d teach her how to draw one. To cut a long story short, we both drew fantastic horses and I was very impressed with our creativity. It gave me almost two hours with a child that didn’t speak a word of English, my Italian dictionary came in very handy. It reminded me just how awesome children are, when they’re interested in something, they are so eager to learn.I gave Debora my drawing and in return she gave me hers.



It put me in a good mood to go out that evening. I was pleasantly surprised when a couple (friends of a friend) turned up at the bar and the girl almost leaped at the opportunity to sit next to me and speak English. However nice it is to speak English, I still want to learn Italian! Most people are very good with including me into an Italian conversation, I know it’s a pain in the neck trying to translate everything; however my level of Italian has got to the point of being able to understand conversations as long as they speak slowly and pause to explain a new verb! In the end, seven of us went to a pizzeria and sat chatting over a lovely dinner. I was pleased that I was beginning to understand conversations regarding all types of topics, plus with a few girls there, debates were heating up between the sexes!

The next day, I was awake at 5.30am, too excited to sleep! My friend had an extra ticket to join him on Mugello race track in Tuscany for the day. His boss happened to be racing Lamborghini and had asked that we go as visitors for the day. Mugello is famous for being the Ferrari formula 1 test track. We spent the whole day around the track, either watching races or chatting to people in the pit.



I learnt so much from the day, I’d never been to car races before and it was all so exciting! I became aware of the dominant politics within the racing culture. By the end of the day, I was so exhausted, not just by the entertainment of cars but by the energetic people around me. When Italians get into conversations about their passion, everything becomes so animated and their words seem to triple in speed, like bullets they shoot me. I was exhausted and spent the last race slumped in a chair in the stalls.



Monday morning was wasted. I spent the whole morning in bed; by 11 I had my mum yelling at me on Skype, telling me I was a lazy cow. They can be in another country and still tell you what to do? Yes.

I had made arrangements to see the flat on Tuesday afternoon, having arrived in Bergamo; I consulted my battered map to figure out which way I should be going. I turned up at the gate on time and was met by Alfio and Bruno who escorted me through a courtyard of cobblestones and archways to a clearing and towards a big steel door. At this point I giggled and asked if we were going the right way! They apologised for the sight on the outside of the house, truth be told the owner of the house was repairing the outside of the house and ran out of money in the process. I followed them through a room that resembled a garage with bicycles and bits spotted around but without the sliding door. Up some terracotta coloured steps to a large heavy door. The first thing I noticed was that the place was clean, the washing up was done and left in the dryer, it was tidy yet homely. The room was big enough with a few pieces of furniture. It wasn’t anything much, but after living out of a suitcase for so long, I was happy to find a place to lay my hat! I walked away with the keys and a smile on my face. Finally a room of my own!

Having now moved in and spent my first few nights in the house, I’ve become aware of the fact that it has been so long since I have cooked for myself! I have long since forgotten all the yummy dishes I created while living on my own, plus I am lost as to what to buy in the supermarket! Especially when it’s all in a foreign language! But, I am here in Bergamo. Five minutes walking distance to the Montessori centre, 15 minutes to work at the Language School and 10 minutes from the centre of town. There is an English shop, beautician, wine shop and a tattoo parlour on my road! Ideal. However, now I live in the city, I need to find ways of escaping too. Those of you that know me well enough, understand that I can’t be in the city long before I need a dose of fresh air in the countryside. Day trips will be planned…

Lavender and Sundried Tomatoes

Know thyself means this, that you get acquainted with what you know, and what you can do.
~Menander

Although I do not always recognise them, I am a great believer of coincidences. The last couple of weeks have solidified my beliefs with many people coming into my life for a reason. The only way to describe the way I feel is to compare myself to a flower (or a weed as my mum would say, in her best Bill and Ben impersonation). Over the last few weeks the people that have come into my life have supplied me sunlight and water, gradually my roots are growing and I am beginning to shoot up out of my pot and into the world.

When I left the family, I found it hard, mentally and emotionally, to become accustom to the idea that I had no work and support of money. The au pair job was my security for the summer and would keep me up until I started studying in September. However with the circumstances, I found myself habiting at a friends’ house after a desperate get away from the family situation. My friend asks me sometimes, ‘Do you regret leaving? If it wasn’t for me, what would you be doing?’ I have to reiterate to them that there is no way I regret leaving. The last three weeks have given me the time to find myself again, realise what on earth I am doing and allowed me to adjust. After a week of sickness and the feeling of being lost, I got kicked into gear when I visited Bergamo for a day looking for work. Upon arrival back to Brescia, I felt overwhelmingly positive and happy knowing that my independence was returning.

It became very clear to me one evening that my security very much lay in the hands of my friend who had rescued me from the family. This is when I started to fall again, witnessing my weakness I became annoyed that I had let myself live a very familiar viscous circle. It’s far too easy to depend on people and I realised it was time I had to get away and find myself again, not just for a day trip to Bergamo though. Instead, my kiwi friend suggested I joined her for a weekend out in the countryside. I have to say, I miss the New Zealand countryside, especially my parents place. The opportunity couldn’t be missed, on Friday last week; I was taken to Brescia station bright and early. I had booked into a hostel in Bergamo for one night, to give me the opportunity to visit my prospective work place and to generally get a feel of the city.

After a morning of observing lessons and making notes at the English language school, I joined one of the teachers and the boss for lunch. It was great to have some true Kiwi conversation with one of the guys that work there and for the best part of it, we had to translate a lot of the phrases and words to our fluent English speaking Italian boss, so she could understand! It’s amazing just how valuable it is being able to reminisce with someone about home. Having had a good morning and the news of a job for September lightening up my day, I went to the hostel for a siesta in the afternoon. Which is when I met Alex, a girl from Andorra, no, Spain, no, Costa Rica? The story was always different, but she had a wicked giggle. With the idea of eating alone creeping up in my head, I asked if she wanted to grab some dinner with me that night.

Later that evening, after a bottle of wine, two limoncellos and half a bottle of some kind of Sicilian alcoholic beverage, we found ourselves sat in a closed restaurant with the waiter and his friend. It was a strange situation to be in with people I hardly knew, but it was certainly an experience. We stayed out until two in the morning, chatting and giggling. For me it was a great opportunity to get an insight on the people in Bergamo. Having exchanged numbers, we went our separate ways.

The next morning, I was up at the bright and early time of seven, feeling rather hung over, I clambered out of bed suddenly aware of the fact that I was in a shared room of a hostel. After a bowl of coco pops and yoghurt, I left for the train station. My destination was a little town called Chivasso, which is on the way to Torino. The train ride was a challenge and I forbid myself from reading in case it made me feel sick. Once in Milano, I took in the greatness of the manic crowds and jumped onto my next train. Here, while sat on this train, I witnessed my first Italian crazy fight between the conductor and a woman. Most people were looking over their shoulders with shocked expressions on their faces, whereas I was trying to hold back the laughter. From someone who understands very little Italian, what I could understand made me giggle, “Stupido! Bruto!” After a good two hour journey, I arrived in Chivasso.



I had planned to spend a few nights with Hope, a friend from university who will be studying with me in September (I think I’ve probably mentioned it before, but thought I would add it in again), she was ‘woofing’ (Working On Organic Farms) out in the countryside at the most beautiful country house that had been renovated by the owners into an environmental paradise, set up for education or simply accommodation. With honey bees, an orchard, a vegetable garden, donkey, chickens, you name it, they had it. It was so refreshing to be required to do some hands on work, with our first job of sorting through a harvest of potatoes. I have to say, it was fun at first, until a storm blew over and turned it all to mud. It took us many gruelling hours; in fact I think the sun had gone down by the time we finished. But we used the time for a good girls catch up, often questioning our motive to come to Italy and also breeching the subject of how much we miss New Zealand.




The time I spent with Hope in the country will hold lovely memories for me. It gave me some liberating time away to a supportive environment allowing me to relax and enjoy myself for…perhaps the first time in Italy. I returned to Bergamo on Tuesday and met the waiter from the restaurant for a guided tour of Citta Alta. Although he had an understanding of English, he was lacking in vocabulary, which helped me use more of my Italian that I have stashed away in my head (somewhere).

I returned to Brescia on Wednesday after a good five nights away, I felt refreshed, ready to crack on with some work and assertive on the mission to find a flat. On my journey through the week it became apparent just how awesome the coincidences are that pop up. My friend is right, if it wasn’t for them, I would probably still be with the family grinding my teeth and going out of my mind. Instead, with their help, I have reached out and found work, friends and my confidence again.

P.S. I went on my first autobus in Italy this morning…and I didn’t end up in Rome. Phew!

Falling for Expectations

I am constantly amazed at the extent of which people can affect your life. Within the last week I have grasped an awareness of how important it is to surround myself with the right kind of people. Since arriving in Italy, I have had my teeth clenched; bite marks in my tongue and sometimes a forced smile upon my face. I was enjoying my time, but not as much as what I had expected too. Essentially, all of what has happened in the last four weeks is based on my expectations. I don’t think I had a clear understanding of what au-pair work had in store for me. I somewhat knew it was going to be a difficult ride; I felt that it couldn’t throw at me anything I had not dealt with in my past like living with a family, dealing with someone else’s children and generally just adapting to new life.

I wasn’t surprised to find each of those things during the last four weeks; however I found many more situations that made for a difficult ride. I’m not here to name and blame, but quite forwardly I will admit that the family’s lifestyle was far different to my own, at first I considered it to be money and possession that allowed them to develop such a mind-set, however after further thought, it was that their attitude to money differed from mine. Again, admittedly, I don’t come from the dregs of society but neither do I rub in peoples’ faces what my family has in possession because to me, possession and money do not rule my life. I would say they are meaningless to me, but that would be a lie, they are not high on my Richter scale of importance. I am not suggesting that I dislike people that enjoy money and don’t think the same way as me; I am merely saying that I cannot adjust to having a housekeeper that works her butt off to tend to every need and an au pair who should read minds and be there at the click of a finger as and when she is needed.

Many things irritated me about living with them; at first I could hide the irritation and just accept differences. But as time wore on, I was becoming more unhappy about certain aspects. Not just physically (knowing where to be and when etc) but also emotionally, I was becoming more and more frustrated with not having independence and my own space. By living there, I no longer felt like a proud young professional, my life and personality was meaningless to them and I was merely there as a worker. You might be thinking ‘Yeah well Katy, go figure! Surely you thought about that before you went to Italy?’ which I did, but as my mum put it, I didn’t realise just how ‘upstairs, downstairs’ it was going to be. I think coming from a culture where we tend to treat people how we like to be treated, I struggled to place myself in such hierarchical orientated family.

I cannot say I regret those four weeks, it has lead me to a better understanding of a certain strand of Italian culture and I am now far more aware of the different people that are around me. On Sunday, I broke the news to the parents that I was unhappy. I will mention here, that the reasons I have stated above were not the only reasons for my decision. There were a few upsets between me and one of the parents, to which I kept trying to tell myself that it was a lack of communication. However, my patience wore thin and after another outburst stating that I was not living up to her expectations, I blew it. Call it what you want, but I live up to only one person’s expectations, and that is my own. I am happy for people to produce guidelines in order for me to develop, but I don’t appreciate being told what I can, can’t, should and should not do. Maybe I should put it down to the Montessori educator in me, with the belief that children should not be told, but merely guided in the right direction. You’re probably thinking, give her some space the poor woman has English as a second language, but I knew she didn’t have a problem with communicating in a decent manner.

I am out now. Appreciating the independence and serenity of my own life again, to the extent that I can when I am living in a friend’s house! Surrounded by Italians who care and want to help me, after four weeks I finally have a genuine smile on my face. Yesterday I took a train to Bergamo, an opportunity to rekindle my independent streak! I didn’t have much of a plan, but I had addresses of language schools and a dozen CV’s ready to hand out. After sitting in the tourist information building for half an hour, I set off with my new map which had been attacked with a pen, marking the addresses of my destinations. During the day, I met some fantastic people, from one school to another and also on the return train ride home. Greeted by English, Kiwi and Swedish people, each more than happy to share a snippet of their life story, being foreign and in Italy immediately implied similarities between us. My shoulders are no longer weighed down with stresses of au-pair life. Instead, puzzled as to what to do next and which road to take from here.

The Beauty of Language- La bellezza del linguaggio

Language really does have its funny points. It’s a puzzle of vocabulary and grammar that, if the pieces are not put together properly, can be highly amusing and somewhat embarrassing!

I guess that is one of the highlights of learning a second language, people get a lot of laughs out of you. However, it works both ways!

The other day I asked Albi if he fancied a granata from the local gelato shop… which he laughed at and said “No I don’t want a bomb”. Once he explained the difference between the word granata (grenade) and granita (finely crushed ice drink), I came to realise that talking like this could be a little risky! However, it was worth the giggles. There have been a few slip ups with the language and I think people just look at me and accept my foreignness!

This is the way I looked at my friend Ricky the other day, when he was trying to explain and translate what low fat yoghurt was in Italian. Grasso being fat, he proceeded to tell me that it was yoghurt without grass. Once that was said, I was in fits of laughter. I couldn’t hold it back! I have heard children say very funny things when working at the school, but I’ve resisted the giggles until after work. However I couldn’t help it. It must have made Ricky feel like a right dork, yet once I explained what he had said in English, we shared the hilarity.

A similar situation came up later on that day when we visited Lago d’Garda, a beautiful and very popular area in northern Italy. As we strolled along the beach, passed the men in their white speedos and gold chains, passed the knee high sock and sandal wearing Germans, we commented on the colour of the water and how beautiful it was. Further down the beach, I was desperate to go for a swim, yet after assessing the water, Ricky made the comment that there were too many vegetables in the water. I felt the tears emerge and the laughter choking my throat, I had an idea what he meant and before I started uncontrollably laughing I checked that he was suggesting seaweed as vegetables. Another triumphant on the spot language lesson!

I think that is why I am so shy to use the Italian that I know, because I’m so aware of the laughter that it will cause! However, through laughter and enjoyment we learn more and remember it. I don’t think Ricky will be forgetting about his vegetables in the sea and I won’t get a grenade and a cold drink mixed up again!

Mi manca la normalità...

What makes this day different? I’ve asked myself the same question numerous times today. No matter what I have done today, I cannot find my way out of the oppressive fog I seem to have wound myself into. This morning, I did Albi’s English lesson early which gave him the afternoon to play with his friends, this also allowed me some time to enjoy my afternoon. Having felt pretty low since waking up, I thought I would take the opportunity to walk through town and do a little shopping in the hope it might cheer me up and feed me a spoonful of independence.

As I walked through town, I listened to my music, which is something I really miss doing. I miss coming home from work, slamming on my stereo and listening to music at whatever volume I wanted. Now I look back and think I must have been spoilt! With my headphones in, I wander with purpose through the crowds of people. Sometimes I wonder just how foreign I must look, the amount of people that watch, gaze or simply glance in my direction is a little unnerving. I feel like I have something stuck on my face, I find myself looking in shop windows at my reflection to check that I haven’t missed a bit of tomato or pasta on my cheek.

There are many things I’d love to write about regarding living in Brescia and experiencing this new country. However, 1. I wouldn’t know where to start and 2. I am not in the mood today! Non lo so, I don’t know why I burden my blog with this grumpiness, I feel like writing but not sure what exactly about.

I guess I should just come out with it, I miss home heaps. I miss friends. I miss English conversation with my family and friends. I am being sucked into a vicious circle of homesickness. I see myself doing it. However, dealing with it, I am stumbling, not knowing which way to turn or what to do in the given surroundings to help myself. I feel trapped by a language barrier! If I was in New Zealand, I would be proactive and find something to do with myself for the evenings, study or just meeting friends. I considered doing a yoga class, but how on earth am I meant to follow what’s going on if I cannot understand the lingo?

I’m not rejecting the use of Italian; I find it hard to grasp an opportunity to use my limited vocabulary. Ah. I’m just getting sick of going around in circles. The song ‘I want to break free’ by Queen comes to mind.

Okay. I think I’ve had a little moan. But, I cannot emphasise enough how much I want my big double bed, my clothes from home, chocolate ice cream from Blue, to drive!! To walk on the beach, yes even in the winter to feel my toes sink into the cold wet sand, to visit friends, to have a boring meal like baked beans on toast, to play music loud and sing all the swear words! I feel like a caged bird and I don’t know how long I can wait for someone to unlock my cage and let me free.

Cocktails and Site Seeing

I don’t think I’ve ever really appreciated the people around me, more so than I have this last week. Finding yourself in a town surrounded by foreign speakers is novelty at first, but after some exhausting conversations, it’s wonderful to talk English with some like-minded people. Having found two American au pairs in the area, we all decided to go for a drink last Thursday night.

Filiz and I turned up to a little bar in Piazza Arnaldo, where a few people were outside socialising. As we walked in, a lady was walking out with a bright orange drink; Filiz commented that it was a local speciality and that I must try it. However, she’d forgotten the name of it. So after we aroused a few locals in the bar with our terrible Italian, we ended up using hand signals, until a local guy managed to work out what we wanted and talk to the bar lady for us! With our bright orange, speciality drinks, we sat down outside absorbing the night life and observing the skill of the girls in their high heeled shoes, how on earth they walk on cobble stone streets…it beats me!

Not long after we sat down, the guy that had rescued us with ordering our drinks and a group of Italians made conversation with us, by this point Jenna had arrived; a true New Yorker with a flair for Italian language after many hours of study at college. The night slowly delved into some crazy conversations and too many drinks! A suggestion was made to try out another bar, so jumping up and feeling the alcohol, five of us set off in search of another bar. Walking up a back street, passed the Lamborghini parked outside a fine looking bar, our Italian friends introduced us to a quirky little place with white washed walls and crazy furniture. As we walked in, the guys told us to go to the toilet. Jenna, Filiz and I gave them a strange look but went in like the three musketeers. At first, it didn’t seem out of the ordinary, just like the rest of the bar, the crazy furniture had continued into the toilets. We couldn’t understand what the fuss was about and by this time, the sound of running water and the talk of toilets, made me need to go. So, closing the girls out, I locked the door and the light popped on. Except, that wasn’t the only thing it switched on; out of a speaker to the left of the toilet came the most odd assortment of what sounded like eastern European men singing in a pub. I couldn’t hold back the giggles. In turn, we each had a go in the cubicle; until the guys then opened the door and reminded us how loud we were laughing and talking. I must say, that was probably the strangest toilet I’ve ever been too, one to remember I reckon.

One or two cocktails after the crazy toilet experience, we set off in search of food. With nowhere open at 1-2am, we were given the choice to go to the house of one of the friends we had met that evening. We all considered the situation, three English speaking girls with two Italian guys… ‘There are three of us, we’ll be alright’. So off we go in a car, to an apartment on the other side of town, all this time I was worried about my bicycle and if I was sober enough to ride home without taking the wrong road. Half an hour later, the five of us were gathered around a table with a dish so full, it was seeping down the sides and all over the table. A simple dish of tomato and pasta, but at that time in the morning, it did the trick!

The next day, I was teaching present simple tense to a friend of the children, when I had a text message from my Mum claiming that they were driving to Brescia. It came as a shock to me, knowing that the day before they were staying in France. As of Friday, my parents have been in the area, enjoying the sights and not enjoying the driving! On Saturday morning, Albi (11 y.o.) showed my parents and me around Brescia, returning after an hour for lunch with the whole family, both my real parents and host parents included. Was strange having them all there together, but it came as a shock to me just how much my host parents did not know about me. I hate to say it, but I am literally ‘just another worker’ in their household, what with the housekeeper and pool cleaner etc etc. The only difference is that I can eat with them! This whole upstairs downstairs thing did not shock me; friends from South America, China and some other European countries are familiar with having a housekeeper to tend to their every need. However, it doesn’t mean I like it. To be honest, I would much rather sit there and talk nonsense Italian with the housekeeper sometimes. She has taught me a lot!

Onwards…Saturday night I was at home feeling a little glum. My parents had left to go back to their campsite in Lago d’Iseo and I had the evening to myself. I had decided to settle down with a movie for the night and after having a shower, I received a phone call from the local friend we met at the bar, ‘Come to a BBQ at my friends house!’ How could I turn down the offer? I was soon picked up and whisked out of Brescia to the surrounding countryside, where we pulled into the driveway of a very nice looking house. I wondered at the time if I was underdressed, until I looked at my friend in his swimming shorts. The crowd of Italians invited me in with open arms and I began socialising with everyone almost immediately. I recognised a few faces from the night before and stuck to them a little while as I knew they spoke very good English. There is a positive and negative with the English language; everyone here wants to practice English, and I want to practice Italian. Although, I won’t complain!

Sunday rocked around and my friend Hope was due to arrive on a train to Brescia from Bergamo. Once we’d defeated the crowds in the station, including the man that was dressed as Britney Spears from her ‘Oh Baby baby…’ era, we hopped into the car and proceeded to follow the satellite navigation in my parents little Citroën C3 to Verona! A beautiful city with far too many tourists! We spent a few hours there and I was reminded just how exhausting site seeing was! We managed to see the town square and Juliet’s balcony. However, the queue to touch Juliet’s left breast was over crowed with Asian tourists so we thought we’d come back another time.









Monday, my parents kindly came and picked me up to take me to Bergamo where we met Hope. We went with the thought that we might be able to make some arrangements and have a good look around where we will be living in September. We found the college and got happily lost around Citta Alta which I hasten to add, is absolutely beautiful. Hope wanted to have a look at one of the convents where a lot of the students live while they do their course; mainly because it’s cheap and easy. We stood outside after ringing the bell, when one of the Sister’s came down and met us at the door. In turn, we introduced ourselves and conversed mainly in broken Italian, while she took our hands and kissed our cheeks. Immediately we could tell that we would be looked after very well here. The place was beautiful and so peaceful. It was very tempting to book in there and then, but we told her we’d think about it, as we’d like to consider all possible outcomes.





The rest of the afternoon we spent site seeing around the Citta Alta of Bergamo, with beautiful churches and cobble stone streets leading to fantastic little shops, we felt at home already! After such a busy weekend, I was thankful to return to reality today. However, it got off to a bad start and suddenly all the bottled up feelings I had about being an au pair, had been released. After one conversation in the morning, my mood went from a grade 10 to a 0 in a matter of a minute. I felt like a child being told off at primary school. The thing is, I was helpless. I couldn’t start an argument. I knew I had my own side, however, what would they care. The whole day, it lingered at the back of my mind, to then understand later on that, it had been a bad day for them and I think I was caught in the crossfire.

This evening, I was treated to dinner out in a little restaurant in Brescia. However the aperitif had gone slightly to my head, so we had a good ol’ giggle over me splashing my wine everywhere. Again, it was really nice to be rescued from the hum drum of the house, and however pleasant it can be, it has its flip side. Like being with your own family, it’s lovely to get away once in a while and I’m so thankful I’ve met people to enable me to do that!

Un attimo! One moment!

How often do you think in the past? Or even the future? Over the last year, I’ve been doing exactly that. Constantly looking to the future, planning and organising what I could of the days I knew of. It started with handing in my resignation to work last year, knowing that if I had carried on in the same place for any longer, I would have missed the turning for where and what I really wanted to achieve. It has to be said, I’m proud of myself so far. Yes a little egotistic, but to be honest, we never give ourselves the gratitude we need sometimes. Everything in the last year has been down to my own decisions, with the help and direction of those closest to me.

Anyway, as I was saying, we are always looking into the future, which is consciously dictated by our past. Only now, have I slowed down enough to appreciate the moment. The last year has gone so fast, always thinking ahead. Now I am ‘ahead’ and I have no plans passed September it feels surreal yet liberating.

When I arrived in Italy, I was ignited with excitement; finally I had found myself half way around the world. However, as the days go passed with time spent trying to decode Italian conversations and helping with English language where needed, it is the flip side to my enthusiasm from the other day. As my Italian is not up to scratch, I spend most of my time sitting back, listening and observing body language and I hadn’t realised just how exhausting it is! My brain is making a constant buzzing sound, I’m surprised that I don’t have steam coming out of my ears sometimes. My eyes are watching as my ears are listening and picking words from their sentences like that of picking ripe fruit from a tree. Some conversations contain words that I haven’t got the foggiest clue what they mean and then there are some that I can follow just watching expressions and hearing the odd word like sorella (sister). What I find frustrating is that, by the time I understand what on earth is going on, the time has passed for me to make comment about it.

This frustration automatically has an effect, finally my brain stops, puts his hands on his hips and says “Right, I give up for now, I tried!” Many times this week I have got frustrated with not knowing more Italian and being able to follow a conversation. Stop. Stop. Stop. I have been here 6 days, I have never heard the language to this extent in my life, and I need to give a little credit and patience! I feel my mind wandering when sat at the table, staring into space, thinking about friends at home (both England and NZ), a few times I caught myself wishing I was somewhere else.

Now, I have realised that I do it; I am trying to teach myself not too! I made the decision to be here, and face it; I am so privileged to have this experience! This evening, I was at dinner with my family at their friends’ house and as my mind started wandering, this voice boomed into my head “Hey, oy! You! Pay attention, be here, right here, right now. You’re in a stunning house, sitting with lovely people, eating fantastic food and listening to a beautiful language! One day, you will look back on this! Take it in while you can!”

I lasted the best part of an hour before my mind was so exhausted. Present moment awareness is a difficult thing to achieve but this could be the best time and place to discipline my mind! I best start in small doses to avoid the steam out of my ears…

A foreigner, An aupair.

The time has come for me to enjoy the sights, smells and tastes of Italy. Upon my arrival in Bergamo airport, I was met by my host mum, glamorously dressed for work. I was immediately taken to the coffee bar, where she drank her coffee like a shot of tequila! And so, the culture cruise began, sailing through, observing the oceans of Italian traits and lifestyle.

The family I am with are lovely. With two children (who I've altered the names of) Albi (11) and Angie (14) who, I would just like to add, is taller than me. Alex, my host mum reminds me of my old boss from the ice cream café in New Zealand. A true business woman who has a lovely fashion-conscious flare!

On the first day here, Angie took me to town to meet her friends and show me the shops. Upon arriving back to the house, Albi turned me around and walked me straight back out the door. He was to show me the sites of the town, including Tomba del Cane… tomb of the dog, the duomo… or cathedral for us… his school and some of the many squares, including piazza tebaldo. After getting up at 4.30am to catch my flight (which I hasten to add, I almost did not catch), I was shattered!

It is still very new, my Italian lessons seems to have gone down the drain. I was put on the spot at a café with Angie on Monday, when the waiter wanted to take our order, I forgot everything and looked at her helplessly. The next day, Albi ordered the drinks in a café. So far, I’ve not had a lot of practice! But with time, I will gain the confidence to go out on my own and see how far I can get with “Non parlo italiano!”.

Something I have come to notice quite early on in my stay is that the teenage girls here are very mature, in looks and in actions. It’s normal to see them sat smoking in cafes with a coffee served out in front of them. The boys, even for the same age, are smaller and still childish. It must be very hard to fit them into age categories judging by looks!



On Tuesday, Albi took me to the castle. It was spectacular to see Brescia from higher up. The castle was also amazing! Apart from the site seeing and the occasion glance around shops, the life of an au pair is slightly obscure, at first there is no routine. Tomorrow, I will claim some routine and see what I can get out of a day.



P.S. The food is… A* 

Italia Awaits...New Chapter!

Hellos and goodbyes are quite a common everyday concept. As a remedy to tears and tantrums, my brothers technique with my nephew makes me giggle; we went to the park the other day and when it came to leaving, Paul insisted that Ethan was to say goodbye to the swings, goodbye to the slide, and goodbye to the park. Seems crazy, but it gives my nephew the concept of acceptance and allowance to let it go for the time being.

I’ve been back in England since the end of April, after a shock to the system leaving New Zealand, I didn’t welcome the opportunities in England with open arms. Looking back I think I subconsciously shut myself off. I was still wounded from leaving NZ and I was scared to open up again in fear of feeling exactly the same when the time came to leave for Italy. There are many things my mind has taken on board since being back, one thing in particular is that I could never move back to England. I have been spoilt by the beauty and laid back style of NZ for so long; I am not prepared to give it up!

In the past, I had found it easy to slot back into life when I came back to England. I met up with my old friends and everything clicked. This time, everything is different. The only thing that could have changed is…me? Since my last visit back, I started teaching and set up a life, gave it all up and journeyed across the world to follow a passion for Montessori. Ignited by friends, co-teachers and the children that I worked with, I realised that New Zealand and England are not the ‘be all and end all’. Italy is out of my comfort zone, but I think for the level adventure I want, it sounds ideal!

It’s so hard to say goodbye to things you are accustomed to, until your mind is diverted and lead by something more overruling. Our minds need diversion from certain situations, otherwise we get so engrossed in one concept without balancing it out and dealing with other things. I can’t remember the phrase exactly, but something like, ‘Sometimes we stare so long at the door that has just closed that we don’t see another one open’.

Last night I was dwelling on the goodbyes I had been saying within the last week, I was quite tearful and I couldn’t quite work out why! I’d said goodbye to all those people in the past and a few months or years later, greeted by a cheerful hello. That’s just how it goes! I think it was a mixture of things last night, I was looking at the closed door while standing in an empty corridor with only one other door to open. This morning, I opened that door! The next chapter has begun.

It begins with a night spent in a really…rough…hotel. It’s a little more like a hostel, but to be honest, I’m just thankful of having my own room with a bed and my independence back in full swing. So I sit here on my creaky single bed with well-worn bed sheets, the noise of my typing dulled out by the television in the next room (which coincidently is number 13), people walking passed my room allowing each door to slam behind them; this is the life. Back to the real deal, adventure!

There are many things I am fearful of, but mainly it’s just the unknown. The language, people, possibilities that may arise, anything could happen! I joked with my friend Hope (who is already au-pairing in Italy and shall meet in September to study together), that we’ll end up with 70 year old men who own vineyards and somehow become rich and drunk spinsters living it up in Italy! Funny what crosses your mind! Somehow, I don’t think that’ll be the case but it comforted us that that would be the worst case scenario!

I’ve said my goodbyes to England, I’m ready to say my hellos to Italy. And so, my Italian adventures begin…

Adventure- Quick Update

Over a month now, I have been travelling the length and breadth of the UK visiting family, friends and most of the time pulling off a tourist image! I’ve found it very hard over the last month to settle with the fact that my time here was a stopover. To be honest, I felt stuck between two chapters in my life, with no real relation (almost like a whole separate book to my life!). However, I learnt to live it large on the time I had here.

What I have really enjoyed over the last month was visiting friends in their own homes, I guess at our age, it’s something to be renting or owning your own pad, so it was great to see how each of my friends had personalised their homes. From Laura and Will’s vegetable garden with potatoes growing out their ears, to the girls at Harriet Street and their garden that we decorated with melting candles that cascaded over the used wine bottles. It’s like slipping into their life for a few days and seeing what it’s all about. My adult years, I spent in New Zealand, and they were quite different due to the circumstances. I never lived in university accommodation with flatmates like a lot of my English friends; instead I lived in random cheap rooms around the city or drove for an hour into university every day from my parents place. The party atmosphere in the student district of Cardiff was astonishing, you could hear and see each house getting geared up for a night out after the stress of the exam period. That particular part of student life, I missed. However, with the thanks of my best mate, who took me out in Cardiff, I feel like I’ve experienced what I had been missing, and to be honest, I don’t think I could have done it 24/7 for four years. One week, in their shoes was enough for me to enjoy, but also I think, my life has been moulded so differently over the last few years. I’ve adapted to the kiwi style of living, and due to the fact that I spent some vital growing years there, it’s what I see as normal now.

It has to be said, I love coming back to England and seeing everyone. I was pondering on the thought the other day, and I came to the conclusion that it’s almost like being in a time machine. For the reasons above, I have grown and adapted differently, so when I meet friends and go to the pub; it’s almost like going back in time. The pub atmosphere here is so different to NZ; it takes me back to when my parents used to take us out to a pub at the weekends for a meal, or when a number of us started going to the local because we got away with being underage. It doesn’t feel normal; it feels like a blast from the past. It’s extraordinary!

Without so much delving into my thoughts, I have had a good time here in the UK. I have had my time of frustrations (and possibly the odd tantrum) due to a lack of independence on the transportation front plus moving from place to place is not always easy, it’s a time when I envy snails that carry their home with them. Next time I return I may consider renting somewhere as a base, so I don’t have to lug my suitcase everywhere!

In a week, I depart for Italy. I land in Bergamo, get picked up by my host family and driven back to Brescia. Until the end of August, I will be looking after two children and teaching them English at their home in Brescia and in Sardinia at their holiday home. Lucky girl you may say! Well, I am scared! But it’ll be the chance of a lifetime to delve into the Italian culture. I hope to come out fluent in Italian and speaking with my hands (even more). More updates will come…for now…ciao!

Adventures- Part 1

The adventure began when I left Dad at Auckland domestic airport. Mum had already been in England two weeks, while Dad wanted to work a little longer at home in NZ. Which is understandable, we each know how stressful it is darting around the country to see people and feeling like a burden while we lug our massive cases around after us!

I flew from Auckland down to Christchurch as my cheap fare would only let me fly from there. Once on the plane to Kuala Lumpur, I discovered I had two free seats next to me, BONUS! Having arrived in Kuala Lumpur, I proceeded through passport control to claim my baggage and set off in search of a shuttle bus to my hotel. I walked outside and found myself within the bustle of taxi’s and buses, I attempted to read signs to find the bus. After asking a Malaysian man for directions, I met a lady who seemed just as stressed as I did. She turned out to be Italian, from Rome. We had a semi awkward conversation in half English and half Italian and established that she was also a Montessori teacher. Coincidence? It was an interesting bus ride, until she suggested she came and stayed with me at my hotel, I made out that I didn’t understand and smiled ‘Arrivederci!’ as she, among all the other tourists, got off the bus. As the bus sat at the International terminal, it began to fill up with airport workers going home from their evening shift. I started to worry that I wasn’t on the right bus, so I smiled at the man behind and pointed to my hotel confirmation that was tightly gripped in my hand. With my exceedingly clear English, I asked if the bus went to Sepang.

It was nearing midnight, I had landed almost two hours before. At this point I was getting a little edgy. During my time on the bus, I talked to the man about my travels. He suggested that he take me to the hotel from the bus stop. At this point I was faced with a big decision; Do I jump off the bus and find my own was through a foreign country at midnight? Or do I trust my judgement and go with the stranger who seems pretty genuine in saying he wants to deliver me safely to the hotel? I swallowed my fear and considered every detail of the conversation and the environment. With hop skip and a trip, I landed on top of my suitcase as the bus pulled away (I was pretty glad no one knew me while I made a fool out of myself). Zipping through the streets in a little Malaysian car, the man pointed to the bus stop and then my hotel.

After a rather chilly night of horrid air conditioning, I woke up to Malaysian daylight streaming through my hotel curtains. Upon looking at the view outside the hotel, I was mighty glad the man had given me a lift from the bus stop. Although it wasn’t the worst case scenario slums, I wouldn’t have wanted to walk through on my own, at midnight, with my life in a suitcase.

Dressed and ready for my next day of flying, I met a friend in the lobby of my hotel and continued on to the airport (that’s after I pinched some toothpaste after stupidly forgetting my own!). It was great to stop off and see a friendly face in the meantime. The hotel shuttle took us to the airport, rattling along passed little villages, which all looked so different in daylight! After spending a few hours together at the airport, we went our separate ways, he to Hong Kong and I to Stanstead.

It’s always the big question when travelling on a plane, who will I sit next to? Will it be the screaming child? The old man that snores? I have to say, I was rather lucky on this flight, having sat next to a guy who was around my age, who was Malaysian but studying at Sheffield university. We discussed everything, from politics and education, to his religion as a Hindu and the ideal wedding. Strange as it may be, we had a great time chatting, then napping and chatting a little more!

Stanstead came. I never realised how horrid the airport was. When I landed, I wanted to get back on the plane again. It has to be said, I was very tearful when we stopped for coffee en route back to Wales. My sheer exhaustion couldn’t put on the brave face any longer. However happy I was to see my sister, Emma and Mum, I wasn’t overly pleased with leaving New Zealand. It suddenly hit me that the next month or so was going to be very hard. Being here, there and everywhere is stressful, and without any transport it is not overly easy to arrange and organise when to see people.

The jetlag hit me like I had never experienced before, I felt sea sick for at least three days after flying. The first weekend I spent in the peaceful village of Grosmont with my sister, brother in law and nephews. It was wonderful to meet the latest addition for the first time! Monday spun around and my best mate Lizzie had decided to pay a visit, so we spent the day with the nephews and walked up to the castle. Later in the week I was able to see my brother, Paul, sister in law, Lorna and other beautiful nephew! However brief our meeting, it was great to see them again.

The weekend came, and I was debating what to do. With jetlag and early nights still in the loop hole, I felt like I just wanted to stop. The ideal opportunity came when our friends of the family Helen and Bill where to set off for the lake district and made me feel welcome to join them.

To slip away from reality is something that is needed every so often. We travelled six hours to the Lake District. Signposts showing the way passed Birmingham and Manchester, we slipped off the M6 as signs of Scotland had started to appear. We were travelling to the back and beyond.

Towering peaks greeted us as we drove through the blissful countryside. This place has been the inspiration of many authors and poets, with its rolling hills, twisting rivers and beautiful lakes. What made this place different is that it is a gem hidden within Britain. The old stone walls tumble down the sides of the mountains, leisurely marking out the boundaries to the grazing cattle. As we drove through the villages, there was an abundance of people with walking boots and sticks, scuttling their way down well-worn footpaths.

The house in which we were staying had been used on countless opportunities by our friends and their children, even my sister and her family came here a few years ago. However far away, it was a meeting point for everyone, coming together over home cooked meals and a few pints down the local. On the Saturday we arrived through the stone pillar gates and along a stone driveway lined with blossoming trees to be greeted by a house that is literally straight out of a movie. This farm in particular was used by the film crew during the making of ‘Miss Potter’, a recent film made to tell the story of Beatrix Potter.



After staying there a week, I had had the privilege to see and experienced a great deal of England’s countryside and culture. I always thought it was a little odd that I had travelled more of other countries than I had my own country. However nice it is to return to England, sometimes the visiting people can get a little overwhelming and I now have discovered the pleasures of slipping off and being a tourist.
A list of some of activities included-

Walking around Loweswater Lake


Visiting the surrounding towns and villages/ shopping!


Walking around Buttermere Lake


Visiting the local pub (the Kirkstile)


Walking up near Skafell Pike (highest mountain in England)



Visiting Scotland and Hadrians Wall in one day!



Visiting Beatrix Potters house...



And many many hot chocolates after getting battered by the wind and cold.

When I arrived back in Hampshire, it was quite a relief to be back to normal but on the other side, I had to take a teaspoon of concrete and start making plans to see people. I have to say, I don’t enjoy this ‘limbo’ feeling, I have finished the last chapter of my life in NZ, and this interval in England is hard to appreciate, when all I’m considering is the daunting prospects of my next chapter in Italy. Got to start enjoying what I do have and that is friends and family to visit.

Aotearoa- End of a Chapter

It was very strange to think that my class and co-teacher went back to school today, and I wasn’t there. Hard to switch off to something you become so attached to, as like New Zealand. Admittedly, I arrived in England and cried. I cried from tiredness and reality hit home, so I was upset. After spending nearly six years creating a life and opportunities in New Zealand, I’d left it. Not just for a holiday either, without a return ticket, it’s unnerving to ponder about flying home as I won’t know when it’ll be. I’m fearful that people would think that I dislike coming back to England. Quite the contrary! I love to come back and reignite the love I have for this land and rekindle the friendships and relationships here. However, it is very difficult to feel settled. I think backpackers must get used to it, yet I am on my way to discovering how to handle feeling so lost. I’ve left my home in NZ without a return ticket, to then linger in England and visit friends and family before moving on to Italy. It’s a rollercoaster of emotions.

Before leaving, I made sure I reserved time to visit people and take in as much of Aotearoa as possible. It started off with a walk up the bush out the back of my parents’ property. After living there five years, I still hadn’t tramped to the top of the ridge and seen the views of Auckland and Rangitoto. One Sunday morning, when I was up north visiting Mum and Dad, I requested a walk up the ridge! It took us two hours to get up there, and just 45 minutes to get back down! It was lovely to appreciate another thing on the backdoor step!



The week after, a party had been organised by the likes of my mum, dad and myself. With an oil drum converted to a fire, a gazebo borrowed from a wonderful contact at work, two barbeques creating vegetarian and meaty meals and party games to get people talking and keep them entertained, we had a pretty awesome night. The first half seemed to be the families with children, who we kept busy with a treasure hunt and a drink in hand (fizzy for the kids!). At around 8 o’clock, there seemed to be a swap over and some friends, who had been working or play sports, came to relax in front of the fire with a beer and burger in hand. It was a glorious night, wrapped up in blankets with whiskey in our glasses, fire at our feet and a sky splattered with stars overhead.



With trips to Leigh, Goat Island, Omaha and other local hotspots, I felt satisfied that it was exactly where I liked to be. It’s strange; my attraction to New Zealand is the total opposite to England. England I love for its land that has been worn by history and rich with culture, New Zealand for its diverse beauty and tranquillity. After living in Italy for a year, I predict I will love it there for completely different reasons!



After the party, I had set time aside to meet whoever I could arrange to see in the time I had left. It turned into shopping trips, coffees, lunches, dinners and drinks at the local. It was wonderful to catch up on a one to one basis with people I hadn’t seen in days, months and even years. I met the lovely ladies from Montessori and had a lovely day shopping and spending money, they encouraged me to get something kiwi to take back with me. So we agreed on an All Blacks shirt, which I might have to selective about wearing (Yes I did zip up my jumper a little so that the Welsh rugby boys at the park wouldn’t give me the glare!).



As the weekend went on, Dad and I entertained ourselves by doing the rounds to people around Auckland. We drove to Waipu on Good Friday and saw the countless Minis driving the ‘Goodbye Pork Pie’ route through New Zealand (a classic kiwi movie about a guy driving a mini from the tip of the north island to Bluff in the South Island, which seems quite irrelevant in this here story…but thought it would be a good detail to add!). What was so lovely about the week before I left is that I realised just how many people in New Zealand had affected my life, warmed my heart with their care and friendship. My greatest fear leaving New Zealand is that I would lose all connections that I have built over the years. A few friends laughed at the thought, however having left a country before, I know how hard it can be to keep in contact with people over the years. I think I have come to the agreement in my mind, that if the friendship crumbles away, it was for a reason. It had its time and if it was meant to be, then the friendship would have continued. If for some reason things fall apart with friends, I can be glad that I have some fantastic memories. Yet, I am not wishing any friendships away! With fingers and toes crossed, I am hoping that these special people will be in my life for more than just a season.




Over the weekend, I sent out a text to a couple of people I met a few years ago on a course of ‘transformation’! As the westie crew, we met up regularly after the course and guided each other through some huge hurdles in our lives. Having only seen these guys once over the last year and a half, you may think it quite odd to have requested to have a drink with them before leaving! Yet, they both had a huge impact on my life in totally different ways, and strangely for the lack of time that we spend together, they know me as well as my mother does! They know my flaws and how I handle life. I thank them, one for making the commitment to catch me for one last drink and the other for driving up to visit at the house and pick feijoas!




I also saw my good friend Roshni the week before I left. It has to be said that Roshni and I are like chalk and cheese, I’m a country girl, she’s a true city chick, however when we get gossiping or talking about life, we understand one another. Over the last year, I’ve turned into a Nanna, denying many opportunities to let loose on the town with Roshni, due to the recovery time during the week! In many ways our lives started to branch apart, and it was very hard to accept it after being so close knit during university years. That Monday we met up, it was so fantastic to share and talk again. I had missed it, and I am so glad we found the time and created the opportunity to sit down for hours in the café and then do what we do best! Threading…ouch! It was our tradition which had to be lived one more time before leaving. It was our time to chat with our surrogate foreign Mum in the hairdressers, who has looked after our hairiness and listened to our boyfriend trouble for at least two years now! It started to hit home what I was doing when I saw my friend in tears as I gave her one last hug. We knew it wouldn’t be goodbye forever as I think she’ll need someone to stay with and help her shop for shoes and handbags in Milan when she visits Italy!






Easter Monday rocked around, and we had arranged to have a drink at the local pub. There I was going to meet a couple of the girls from the ice cream café that I worked in for…oh dear…4 years on and off? Plus my old flatmate and fiancé met us there. Having so many separate memories with each of them it was funny bringing them together over a drink!



Elyse from the café, started out being one of the younger girls who worked after school and weekends. We spent many working days together and a few slaving summers in the heat of the kitchen. Working in that café could drive you crazy. With some of the summer days came queues of people out the door from 9.30am to 9.30pm when we had to force the doors shut. It was an amazing experience, however working so closely with the crew for a good 10 hour day came with the price of hostility, madness and sudden outbursts of anger (either at customers, food or the team). Elyse and I have remained friends ever since. Those days we spent in close proximity allowed us to communicate and understand each other in a way that is very unique. That wasn’t the last time I saw Elyse though, on the afternoon before I left, we took a drive out to Omaha as the clouds had cleared the sun had started to peep through. Once we got there, we admired such a glorious day. It felt like summer again! The sun was beaming, the waves rolling onto the beach with a handful of surfers gazing into the distant ocean. As we walked up the beach we splashed our feet and took in the sheer beauty. I said to Elyse that after a week of rain, it decided to brighten up for my last afternoon in the country as if to say ‘Here look, this is what you’ll be missing out on!’



My old flatmate from last year must have been crazy to live with me. Although after a few questionable evenings I came to the conclusion we’re both as odd as each other! If it wasn’t for Jordan last year, I have no idea how I could have handled such a turbulent year. Like a brother, when I arrived home from a hard day, he made me a cup of tea and nodded carefully when I poured all my ‘problems’ out. It was lovely to witness, after a few wrong turns, him falling head over heels with such a fantastic girl. With a fair few memories of the two of them, there is no way I can forget such a house and flatmate!

Love and miss you NZ x