Well, I’m not really Canadian, as most of you know, but I have lived there long enough to consider myself “part of the furniture” as Oliver would say. Yet one week into my two week stay in the UK, my home land, I’m feeling quite strange.
I do not fit in here, but, I do fit in here.
Living in another country has made me proud of my roots. “I am English,” I’ll say. “From tip to toe and toe to tip!” Cute right? But now I’m here, the rose tinted glasses are off, and I am starting to remember why it is I left. Hopelessness, poor government, lack of inspiration, rubbish television, yet at the same time I have something precious right in front of me that I refuse to ignore: family. They are where my heritage is, they are from whom I have been given life and character. They are what make up a part of me and they are what I treausre the most since leaving.
It’s all well and good leaving your small village in Essex (famous for jam) to live in the big wide world. At first it’s great: you laugh at the local newspaper writing a tribute to your leaving. You’re famous, if all for five minutes (and to those only who live in the same said village.) Nonetheless, you feel proud for doing something that others have not, yet. You arrive in a big city and you realize just what it is you’ve done. So, you spend the next 2 weeks crying at night, realizing that you actually relied on your family much more than you wanted to admit. Small things, like buying shampoo and stamps, throw you for six. You have to learn new coloquialisms, where the good food stores are, say words like “store” instead of “shop”, or “pants” instead of “trousers”, get used to the unusual amount of water in the toilet bowl, and driving on the right hand side. But soon enough, these things become habit and they’re not such a novelty anymore. Much like a chameleon, you blend in to your surroundings and start to soak them up. You smile as you look out of the window on the bus, remembering where it is you live and basking in independance. And then after a few years of this, another feeling sets in.
My cousins are the closest things I have to siblings, and I love them. Charlotte and I grew up together being only two years my junior, and we spent many a weekend together playing, growing up, making up and talking. We journeyed through teenage-dom together untill I jet setted off to North America to “find myself”. Just two years ago she had a baby, and for the first time next week I will meet him. My childhood friend got married a month ago, and I sadly looked on via facebook, wishing I could have been there for her, just like she was for me on my wedding day. Dad’s sister fell seriously ill, as did my Mom’s Mom. People have aged, changed jobs, got new boyfriends, girlfriends or apartments, lost, gained, felt, and I am on the other side of the world experiencing my own life, somewhat independantly. Half of my family has not even met my husband of almost two years.
I live too far away.
The Great Adventure has been great so far in these seven years. Each time I’ve come back to the UK for a visit I’ve been glad to see family and friends and familiarality, but I have also been glad to get back on the plane to go “home” again to Vancouver. This time though, with thoughts of the future in mind (children and such) it is harder to think about the journey to the airport, saying goodbye and going back home.
Even though we have Skype, letters, emails and parcels in the mail at Christmas, the world does seem an awfully large place when you realize that your family is worth more to you than you originally thought.
I’ve been eagerly awaiting your next post. So glad to hear about all you are learning during this visit. Can’t wait to give you a welcome “home” hug when you return.
Francesca
I’m excited for you to be “home,” too, and to be a part of a small group with you, again. It must be tough, though, having your heart, essentially, split between two places, and especially tough when your family is elsewhere. But I’m glad that you’ll be coming back, and consider Vancouver “home,” even if it’s not for always. I think about the Palmers, and their similar dilemma/ feelings, and totally understand their decision, but it also makes me happy hearing about people like the Stormers, who are becoming (or have become, already?) residents.
It is amazing when you realize what your family means to you and how much an independent woman relies on them. Even though I have Paul’s family here to ‘take up the slack’ there is still the part missing that only being with them can fill. It is fine to be away, but also nice when they are around to make that spot warm and fuzzy for a short time. Glad you got to be with your family. My parents are coming here in November!!