Five Years is a long time

A little over 5 years ago, I left NZ to begin my adventure. I was a wide eyed girl who was not really sure what to expect, how I was going to feel and if I could really do this thing. I spent two months traveling before I settled in London and had the time of my life.  Then I crashed down to reality.  I remember crying myself to sleep on my first night in London.  Who was I kidding that I could do this?

Now I am a seasoned Londoner. I survived the dreaded first six months, and have the scars to prove it. I survived being very very ill, all by myself. Don't get me wrong, I had the support of my family and friends from afar, but here in London, at the time I felt very much alone. A friend recently told me that she thought that I was the toughest person that she knew, as after nearly a year here, she was finding it really tough, and that she could not believe that I had survived for five! But here is the thing. I had no idea how tough I was until I needed to be.

Please don't get me wrong, I love London. I love it a lot. I would not still be here if I didn't. This city gets under your skin and all of a sudden when you are knee deep in the most challenging six months of your life, you see the Albert Bridge lit up at night and pinch yourself, you are in London. All the dreaming about moving to this world class city has come true.

Sure you miss your family and friends. I have missed all of my friends pregnant. And that guts me. I have missed seeing all of their beautiful babies as babies and I miss that. But it is a blast meeting them now, a summer ago, I spent time with Keenan who became my wee shadow. I love sending them post cards and feeling like I am close to them on the other side of the world. I have been away for over half of Sam's (my nephews) life now. And I am so very sad about that. It breaks my heart that he can no longer remember when I lived in NZ. I remember crying in the airport and hugging him, and him saying that I had put wet on his face. He was so little. Now he is running triathlons and can no longer fit on my knee.

But here is the thing, I have dreamed of this all of my life. I may not have known what it would have cost me, but I have dreamed of it. Nothing compares to the feeling of seeing scenery or seeing a monument that you have studied, and to be standing there with it in arms reach. I cried tears of joy and relief at seeing the Sistene Chapel. I still get goose bumps when I see the Albert Bridge all lit up. I dread taking a trip to Heathrow as the ol' Heathrow ass injection gets me everytime. But I love this city and I love that it has taught me how strong and independent I am. I miss driving but then I get to love it when I drive a van to move a friend from city to city. I was laughing at myself today as I went head out and grabbed a scarf. I am indoctrinated English, in that I believe that even on a sunny day, you need a scarf. I am not quite so English that I take an umbrella everywhere, yet. But I am obsessed with the weather and consult the iphone app before heading out to outdoor events, what can I say, its an affliction.

So here is where it stands, I have a slightly English accent, and I speak a hell of a lot slower than I used too. I have an ever diminishing London family, and I now have friends all over the world, but I am kiwi to the core. I may not be nearby, but I skype and message with my friends often. Facebook is a great invention. I miss my homeland and its likely to be the rubbish weather that drives me, like the rain, from England back to the South Pacific, but it won't be for a few years yet. I love my homeland and I will be back one day soon, but for now, cheerio from the land of horrid weather.

Tubes - they are not attractive places

What is it with me and men on tubes? Why does this seem to be the place where I get chatted up the most? The lighting is rubbish and most often I have my nose in a book and my ipod on. I hardly look my best and I am not very attentive...

So last weekend, I was battling a medium level hangover, and had promised to meet a friend on the South Bank. I had gotten up, made myself somewhat presentable and headed to my favourite local cafe for some sustenance before braving the tube. I had a delicious round of eggs bene, a fruit smoothie, and then after I had finished feeling squeamish from that had a pot of peppermint tea and a brownie. That had a crème egg baked into it. You know that there is something wrong when I am breaking out the peppermint tea. So after reading my book in the warmth of the cafe and feeling generally sorry for myself, I realised the time and headed out to catch the tube.

I decided to take the bus from Balham to Stockwell and grab the Northern line from there. I was standing on the platform when tube pulled in. I was standing where I knew that the exit would be at Waterloo, to make for a speedy exit. As the tube pulled in, a man on the tube caught my eye. He was staring at me and looking me directly in the eye. I gulped and got on the carriage and sat down opposite him. We barely broke eye contact during that 30 seconds. So I sat down and we stared at each other. After another 30 seconds I began to feel silly, he had his earphones in too, so I opened my book and started to read, very aware of his eyes on me. The next time I looked up, he was playing a game on his phone, but caught my eye nonetheless.

The tube got stuck at Oval for a few minutes and we both listened very attentively to the announcement, and both sneaked a shy smile at each other.

At Kennington, my delicious mystery man stood up and mouthed the words, 'Have a good day' to me and started to get off the tube. I mouthed 'You as well' and treated him to my biggest smile. He motioned for me to come with him. I just waved and blew him a kiss as the tube pulled away.

I relayed this story to my friend when we met up and told her that even though this encounter was really nothing more than two strangers smiling at each other, that it made me realise that I still have it and that even feeling like rubbish, I can still be attractive. She asked why on earth I had not gotten off the carriage and spoken to this man? There are a number of reasons for this, not in the least that he could have been a serial killer. But more likely, that the illusion and the thought of him is going to be much better than the real thing. And lets not forget I was still feeling very green around the gills. I would not have wanted to start it off feeling like that. And I am actually incredibly shy when it comes to men, I would have most likely tripped off the carriage, sworn and then said something really inappropriate and then his illusion of me would have been shattered.

So its better this way, us both remembering each other as the attractive flirty people on the tube. We will never have to deal with the grumpy versions of each other, argue about what to watch on tele, or clean up after each other. One day I will not be so shy, when someone asks me out, I will, firstly realise what they mean, and secondly say yes. And then according to my latest Scottish future seer, I will fall madly in love and be happy ever after. Apparently it has to happen if I am going through all the hassle of leave to remain. Its destiny.

So man on the tube, thanks. Thanks for making me smile, thanks for making me feel attractive and thanks for being so damn hot yourself.

Sore feet, rumbly tumbly

In February, I went to the Kensington Roof Gardens to see my friend Abby Holden play. I am a huge fan of Abby and this was a real treat. She is a delightful friend, a great laugh, and a brilliant singer/songwriter. The roof gardens are a delightful venue (which I went back to for a delicious lunch a few weeks later) and quite a swanky one too. Its been a while since I have been anywhere with a dress code.  (which I was only alerted to about 15mins before I left home!  Eeeekkk some serious rethinking of outfit went on!) So dressed in skinny jeans, a sparkly top and some ridiculously high heels, with a dodgy ankle, I walked like a wounded gazelle, trying to look elegant into the venue.

I immediately met up with my friends Juddy, Pauline and Michelle. We were all looking glam and scrubbed up well. We headed to the bar, and had some ridiculously over priced drinks and caught up, whilst waiting for the venue to open. None of us had eaten, and it was after 8, but we were all very excited so it didn't matter.

I am pretty sure that Abby was first up and she played a great set. We cheered and sang along. There were calls for Ginger pubes, which Abby good naturedley played for us amidst huge cheers. We all loved her single Kiwi Boy, which rang true with all of us, Juddy and I were laughing at the description of a guy wearing jandals walking into a dairy. You can hear/buy the single here...

We watched a few other sets and then headed back to the bar area where we could still hear the music but talk a bit more. And then I spied the burgers that were being made. I was suddenly starving and realised that it was after 10pm,and that due to houseguests etc, I had eaten very little that day. So a group of us headed out to the hotplate and ordered £10 burgers. They were delicious, but I think that was more the time rather than the burgers, they were definitely not £10 worth.

As we were sitting on the ledge of a garden devouring these delicious burgers, balancing them as only the tipsy can, a group of lovely young ladies walked past us. All of them were studiously pouting and looking too cool for school. One of the guys in my group watched them go past and said to me, why is it that at gigs like this, in places like this, beautiful woman always look so miserable. I answered, because their feet hurt and they are starving. He laughed, and then watched the next group go past and shouted Oh My God, you are right. They were looking enviously at the carbs that I was ingesting, somewhat off my diet for the night, and they were ever so slightly hobbling in heels that were towering.

He then looked at me and said, but you are beautiful too and you are smiling, why are you not pouting and miserable too? Because life is too damn short to be miserable. I had a pair of flats in my bag to change into, to get on the tube home with, I was starving and could not care less at that point if it was cool to be seen eating what felt like at that moment, the worlds most delicious burger.

But this brings me rather longwindedly to the point. When it did become fashionable to look miserable? I get smouldering, but miserable? And its clear that men find the whole thing rather confusing, I have had many conversations where they find the whole going out to dinner with woman thing confusing, as they never eat. I looked back at my facebook photos, with the exception of a recent one, where I have been photographed balling my eyes out at an airport, I am sporting a massive smile. Or dancing my little heart out, or hugging someone. Surely, this has to be a better way live life than being serious/miserable* all of the time? I am sure that if I started pouting often, that my friends would certainly tell me about it. I know that there would be stern talkings too.

So my plea is this, smile people! The world needs more happiness, more silliness, more love and more hugs.

*It should be noted, that when I speak to people I would say this 'serious slash miserable', which has caused Abby on many an occasion to say 'who says slash? That is hilarious!' I do people, I do.

Long live the King & Queen

My February was pretty rubbish. It felt as though with every email or phone call, more and more awful things happened and it was just getting worse by the day. It really knocked my resolution to be happy this year. One of my friends made the comment, that February was only 28 days, because most of us could not handle much more than that.

But one of the saddest moments in this godawful month was my closest London friends leaving to move back to New Zealand. Its fair to say that everyone expected me to be a blithering wreck from the time that Cate and Aaron returned to the UK from Europe to stay with me for a week and surprisingly I proved them wrong. Part of it was denial. I could not fathom my London without these people who were to a degree the linchpins of my urban family. I still can't.

I have known Cate and Aaron for 4 years. A detour from my normal pub with my three boy flatmates, led to the pub which they ran. From the second that I saw the Harere Mai sign on the door, I knew that I was at home. From that moment on I was slowly but surely absorbed into the family. This family has grown and changed over the 4 years that I have been in it. People have moved home or changed jobs from working at the pub where it all began and others have joined our fun group.

Cate and I would catch up a couple of times a week and always on a Friday. I became a pub regular who grew to know the cast of characters in the pub like they were my own family. Which in the absence of my own family, was nice to have. We spent long weekends together, holidays such as Easter and Christmas and many a family dinner. We were there for each other through thick and thin and had loads of in jokes. Do you know your postcode? We met members of each others families and laughed when Cate's sister described me as her bosom buddy. Hehehehe. We have survived earthquakes, family weddings and tragedies. Its fair to say that I adore Cate and Aaron.

We have spent a long time fighting for their pub, which was sold by the brewery to a developer who have plans to turn it into a block of flats. Its kinda like someone ripped the heart out of our community. It was an emotional time and we gave it our all, but in the end we lost. Which meant that this Christmas was our last Christmas in the Castle. And that after 12 years in London my bestie was heading home to see her family and to start a new adventure.

I don't know that I can do ever write to do justice to the depth of friendship that we have. We share a very warped sense of humour. One that makes us laugh at the most ridiculous things. I loved the postcard that she sent me from Berlin – Hi Nic, Here is the postcard that you wanted, it is cold, we are good. Love Cate and Aaron. I laughed over it for days. When she got back, she told me that she had laughed over it for days as well.

I was touched when Aaron mentioned me in his leaving speech, we danced the night away, drank way to much and together we found out that McDonalds is open at 4am and that a taxi driver will take you through the drive through, but that even if he won't, the dining room is open. Who knew?

I held it together well, we all thought that I would have been crying since Christmas day, I managed to hold it together until the final day, I cried a bit at the last lunch and then at the airport, where I had only the smallest amount of time to say goodbye. It was hard, but I am so excited for them. Its an interesting feeling also to be the person who is being left behind when others are going on an adventure, its normally me having to get on the plane, whilst crying.

So what I want to say is, I miss my friends, I am still very grateful for the people who have been making sure that I am not lonely, even if its just a phone call to chat. I am very lucky to be a part of such an amazing life changing community. Love you all and thanks for being so amazing!

Don't think, just do

Over the past week, I have had that one line of a song stuck in my head. It has been like a mantra, but a really annoying one. I have been wracking my brains trying to figure out where it is from and why I seem so attached to it. I have had a half melody to go with it, but still no joy.

It’s more than just a song lyric. It’s a way of life. I have been accused in the past of over thinking things. What? You? No! Never! Said no one ever. We all know that I am capable of taking one sentence from a conversation and analysing it to a point where I have 10 different meanings for it. I over think everything from my love life (of which there is none), to my job, to my friendships, to the grocery list, to the gym, and so it goes on. One of my good male friends often stops me when I begin to relay an event that could lead to a love life and says – You are over thinking it again. Just chill out.

So I have been trying to chill out. Just to make it fun, when I am trying to not over think anything, it is the time when my visa is being renewed. When this is published, I will officially be an over stayer. But its ok, I have faith that it will work out. I have my MP onto it, as I type, and UK Border Agency has assured me that I am still legal to work. Hmmmm. Don’t over think Nic, just do your job and enjoy your life. 

I have been watching with great interest the media excitement over Lena Durham. I absolutely love her show Girls. It is gritty and honest and makes me cringe in parts, watching it. Because it is so real. This is a New York that could not be further away from Sex and the City. Its people like me, facing problems like me, and behaving like me. I love that Lena has written, directed and starred in this. This feels like a trip into her mind. And guess what, she over thinks things just like me. She is the new Hollywood darling and I suspect that we are going to see loads more from her. And from all accounts, she is an all round lovely girl as well. So over thinking is entertaining for those around you.

So how is it going for me? I have over thought one situation so much, that I have just about given it up. I cannot be consumed by this and my answer to hide under the duvet. I have over thought my visa situation no end, I am nearly on the brink of ordering boxes to pack up my life and move home. And then I remember that in a month, it will be resolved and I will be thinking how silly I was. But today as I was struggling to not think, just do, I suddenly thought, google the damn lyrics and figure out where they are from.

They are from this song, aptly titled – You could be happy – yes I could be happy. It’s interesting to me that in one of the most significant upheavals of my life, this CD saved me. I had left my relationship and house and was living with my bestie and her hubby. This CD got thrashed in the car and every Saturday morning when I cleaned their lovely home, I had this on loud. I was in a cleaning phase, they didn’t force me to do it. So now that I am in another period of transition, not quite as dramatic as that, this song has come back to haunt me.

So there you go, I could be happy, and I am now choosing to be. I am going to be attempting to do a lot less over thinking and more doing. I have to remember that those 6 years ago, that I survived the upheaval and that I will survive again. This time on a different continent, but with the same support, just from a different group of friends. As well as the ones at home, who are secretly (not so secretly) hoping that this visa does not go well and that finally return to their shores. Although, if I did not over think things, then this blog would be a lot less interesting… Oh no here we go again…

One Month In and its already been a strange year...

Wow!  Can you believe it?  January is nearly over!  The month that the UK hates the most is nearly behind us.  If you survived the 14^th of January – apparently the most depressing day of the year, then you are doing ok. January over here is a grey and dark time.  In NZ it’s a great time, full of sunshine and beach activities and complaining that it is so hot that you cannot sleep.  I have learned never, ever to complain about the heat again.  

This year for me started off pretty well.  I always feel that the New Year brings a time of new beginnings and whilst this year I did not make any resolutions, I did think about what I wanted for myself this year, health and happiness.  And men or rather just one man.  I made a joke toast with a close friend that this year was the year of men for us – and so far it has been progressing in the right direction.  I also decided to be as positive as possible and face it with a grin.  Famous last words.

But already this year there have been some challenges, disappointments and interesting occurrences.  Close family friends have passed away, a helicopter crashed at my workplace, pubs have closed, my friends have left or are planning to leave, I have had the flu, I have done well at my new job and I have nearly survived a month without alcohol.  It has snowed and I love the snow.  I have had a car for most of the month and have loved blatting about running errands and discovering new places.  I am wondering how I will survive without it now.

Last weekend, was very odd.  I had made plans and filled my weekend from Friday to Sunday, I hate to be bored.  On every single one of those days, the plans changed.  I am used to going with the flow, but that is a bit unsettling for me.  And I accidentally ate some cashew products, so spent my Saturday night in bed feeling very sorry for myself, sucking on my inhaler.  In some ways I found it funny, I had lunch with some friends at a lovely Indian restaurant in Camden, whom I had not seen for ages.  I grilled the waiter on what I could eat, as many of the sauces in Indian restaurants have cashews or cashew oil in them.  There was one curry that I could eat, and if I didn’t like that, the chef was going to make me a special one.  I was happy with the green curry and loved it.  Delicious!  As I was in Camden, I thought that it would pop in and see my amazing friend Sarah – she is great fun and I am dreading a London without her later on in the year.  She is also a very strict vegan.  When I got to Alchemy, a very quiet space within the craziness of Camden’s stable market, I was very full after a yummy lunch.  She took her break and sat down for a catch up, and fed me one of her kale chips.  I was chewing away, had only swallowed the teeniest piece, when she started to tell me how wonderful it was for me and listed the ingredients.  The second one was cashew nuts.  I stopped chewing and we both stared at each other in horror.  I promptly spat out the rest of what was in my mouth and washed my mouth out with water.  Every time I have a reaction to cashews, it gets slightly worse than the last.  I am lucky that I have not ever had anaphylactic shock and hopefully never will.  By the time I got home my stomach was rather unhappy and I felt just off colour and light headed so went straight to bed and slept for about an hour and a half.  Poor Sarah feels terrible about this, but it is not her fault, neither of us could have predicted that there would be cashew products in a kale chip.  In the past I have accidentally eaten a whole cashew nut that was on a pizza, which was being served in a darkened bar, I earned myself some lovely swollen Angelina lips in that episode.

But in all of this month, I have tried very hard to keep a positive attitude and a smiley face.  I am up against it at the moment with my immigration status and that is so exhausting.  But I am lucky, even if my visa is declined, it’s not the end of the world, I will be going home to paradise.  So I guess that the point of this major rant about January is this – throughout this minefield of a month, I have managed to stay reasonably happy.  I am disappearing to Brighton this weekend, as it is beginning to feel like a bit much.  Last year’s Nic might not have recognised that in time and a small breakdown may have occurred, so progress has been made.  I have had an interesting and character defining month and long may it continue!

Hurry up and send me an approved visa!

Dear London,

I am writing to inform you that I am not ready to leave just yet. I am not done with you and nor you with me, so if you could let the Home Office know, I would be very grateful.

4 years, 7 months and 20 days ago, I arrived on your shores. I stepped off the plane at Heathrow, leaving behind my precious ipod in the seat back pocket – dopey me, and was so excited to have finally arrived. It has been my dream since before I was 10 to do my OE and to live here. I might have left it a bit late at 27, but hey I got here in the end.

Arriving here was not easy, I was traveling off the back of a hard year. I had my heart broken, had left a disastrous relationship, sold my share of the house and had left everything I knew behind. I arrived here with 70kg of my possessions on my back. I had been traveling for a month, and I had managed to convince myself that I was on holiday, but on the plane from New York to London, I had a realisation that I was going to be arriving at my new home. That I really had no idea when I was going to see my family or friends again and that I possibly had made the biggest mistake of my life. My first night in Surrey, I cried myself to sleep.

The next day things were a little brighter, metaphorically, as it was grey and raining, despite the fact that it was Summer. I have come to learn that London Summers are like this. I visited Buckingham Palace and saw the trooping of the colour and was for the first time on the tourist trail in London. This is a trail that I have now trodden a million times. Everyone that arrives in London, I take them on this route. The next day I was off to Madrid to begin another month of traveling through Europe.

On this trip, I made life long friends, and saw some of the most amazing things. I stood in the Sistene Chapel, and looked upon the paintings that I had studied for years. I visited Alhambra and marveled at how old things are in Europe and how young NZ is by comparison. I also met one of my best friends and future housemate, Felicity. We had a wonderful time together and from the first day we were mates. On a recent trip home, I was so honored and floored, when she planned her wedding for my visit. I would not have been anywhere else. Whilst we don't often have the chance to talk much anymore, I know that within minutes of seeing her again, we will be chatting like we have never been apart. I cried a lot when I left her at Sydney airport, three days was not long enough.

The first 6 months here, you were pretty rough on me London. I struggled a lot. I cried a lot. I survived having family members pass away, and not getting a chance to say goodbye. I lived in a flat with leaking ceilings, a dodgy landlord, with no furniture and not a lot of light. However, Fe and I both refused to let you break us. We danced like no one was watching, thank god they were not, and went for long walks to make up for the lack of a tele. Once Fe left to move back to Aus, I was lucky enough to move in with three British boys who helped me to settle in a bit more. It was with them that I walked into a kiwi pub in London, completely by accident and met what was to be my London family.

My London family is constantly evolving, over the last two years, its gotten a lot smaller. Many of them have scattered across the globe and the coming year sees it shrinking even further with some of the key players leaving me. London, this is one of the hardest parts of living here, the constant goodbyes. Friendships are formed very quickly here, especially among expats. You have a strong bond of a shared experience and when you are with expats you know that you will be understood as they speak your version of English. I would not trade these people for the world. Whilst we are all scattered, through the magic of Facebook we all keep in touch. Many of us are desperately trying to do this now that our hub, the pub is gone. Over the past two weeks I have been pretty good at it.

It was with the help of my London family, that I was able to survive when I was in pretty much constant pain and was very very ill, for about two years, when I was so far away from my family. There is nothing like your Mum when you are feeling unwell. I fought hard for my health and am pleased to say that after two quite painful operations, that I have been cured for the last two years. I celebrated by having a night out with friends, when I was given a clean bill of health and finally discharged by the NHS.

So London, I guess that what I am saying is this – you have forced me to learn a lot about myself, I now know that I am made of stronger stuff than I thought, I can survive on a shoestring of a budget, I can navigate a tube and bus system, I can make friends easily, despite the fact that I have recently discovered that I am shy, I will get searched every time I try to fly, and that it is no good taking me to an airport, as I will cry for a long time once I am there. I have loved most of my time here, you are a gritty, beautiful city, filled with history that almost feels like it breathes, and you have gotten under my skin. I am not ready to leave you just yet. I would not trade the experiences that I have gained here, I am better and fuller person for them. I am hoping that in the year to come you will treat me well. I am sure that this is my year, its started off pretty well, and I am sure that it contains love, happiness and general excitement for me.

So I am begging you, please let me stay a little longer.

Yours, with Love,

Nicca xx