I must say that I enjoy preparing for travelling almost as much as I enjoy travelling itself. There are so many things to plan, lists to make, and consideration in planning what kit one will need for a long backpacking trip. Its incredibly liberating getting back to basics and from a packing perspective, the fact that we are travelling with the summer is great – less bulky clothes and more room for an extra shirt and shorts (and I’m hoping shoes!!!). I have a make-up collection that is down to 5 items (bronzer, Touché Éclat, mascara, eyeliner, eye shadow) and have discovered the joys of Neil’s Yard rather pricey but absolutely scrumptious Rose Balm – it acts as a cleanser, toner, eye-make-up remover, exfoliator and all-purpose moisturiser. One item ladies – just one pot of loveliness will save me buckets whilst keeping my skin happy through Africa.
We have the first few months worked out in some detail. The booking part of the Africa trip is completely paid for. We head off to Kenya on 20 October. We’ll spend Christmas in Cape Town then fly to Buenos Aires on Boxing Day. Our plan is to do a 3 week language course in January. I would love to head down to the Patagonia after that, come back via Chile then head over to Brazil in February (post school holidays but pre-carnival season) but its all a bit of wait and see.
Check out our Africa itinerary at:
www.acacia-africa.com/HolidayDetails.aspx?tc=UAO58&productID=1
So when can people expect us to be back in Australia? So many people have asked and obviously we can’t really give a firm answer. I think it all depends on how we find things on the road for such an extended period, and how quickly we (well, me really) go through our cash. From a logistics point of view end Aug/early Sept 2011 makes sense. Learning from others experiences, finding work can be difficult two months before Christmas, so this will give us a few more months up our sleeve. That, and hopefully we’ll still have enough time to find a suitable wedding venue.
I guess you’ll get a sense of how we are travelling from this blog as we progress. Bernard’s blog will contain a photo for every day on our travels, which means that his will definitely contain more photos than mine, so be sure to visit both blogs.
www.looking-for-bujumbura.blogspot.com
I’ll continue to write about my experiences, doing as best as I can to bring you with us on our forthcoming journey.
Friday 13 August 2010
The engagement and adjusting to realities of leaving
On the engagement
But the highlight of the summer was 26 June 2010. I had been experiencing homesickness – wanting to be close to my mother whilst her mother was very ill. Under that pretext Bernard had arranged a day for me to catch up with friends. I thought nothing of it – other than he was being a splendid boyfriend and hand-on-heart I can say that I had no idea what was coming. All I knew was that I was to be at Cutty Sark DLR in Greenwich for 10.30am. The day was utterly heavenly. At each stage I met a dear friend(s) who spoilt me rotten then gave me a clue as to where I was headed next. My final destination was to be at the place where Bernard and I first met. I thought it would be pretty silly if I was meeting someone else – so surely I was meeting Bernard this time.
And there he was – hurrah! At this stage I’d had a few glasses of bubbly and a few martinis so wasn’t interested in drinking anything but water. So we sat down at the table where we had our first date. This is nice, I thought to myself. Bernard handed me a puzzle box (I already knew how to open it because he’d infuriated me the previous Christmas trying to open it) and said inside it is a symbol. I started shaking, my heart racing. I fumbled for a good minute trying to open the box. It opened, and out came a ring – not THE ring, but one of his rings. I looked at the ring. I looked at Bernard. I picked up the ring and turned to Bernard at which point he said “will you?” Suddenly Bernard found himself with a weeping Lizzie clinging onto him for dear life saying repeatedly “yes of course I will, yes yes”. After he recomposed himself (it was a little dusty in the room) he said he didn’t presume to know my taste in rings (right response) and thought that since we are going travelling that it would be best to look at rings later. I agreed wholeheartedly.
Moments later, leaving Bernard’s pint half drunk, we returned to the flat to drink some celebratory bubbly. I was laughing and crying the whole walk home. “Oh you’ve put on a spread” I exclaimed when we walked into our flat. “Hmm, that’s Julie’s handbag? Is Julie here?” Moments later I realised that we were having a party with those who took part in the day, and the tears stopped and I started partying with gusto. My apologies if you received a drunken phone call from me that night (day in Australia), but I was far too happy to contain my enthusiasm.
On adjusting to the realities of leaving
The engagement gave me a greater sense of purpose in our return to Australia. We are getting married, and at some stage buy a house (fingers and toes Pound Stirling strengthens) and start a family (God willing). Sure, the idea of finding a place to live, a job and plan a wedding within nine months of returning did initially overwhelm me. But then I figure I will be far too busy upon my return to be wistful about the UK. This has got to be a good thing. And I’ve done my research and I’ve even compiled a loose budget (my goodness weddings are expensive). We know we want a relaxed style wedding on the Victorian surf coast, and I am content that we know where to start when we get home. I can let go of any wedding anxiety and enjoy travelling.
The recent passing of my grandmother (Judy Kelly) has also had an impact on my desire to return. Many times she had been close to death during the past eighteen months – she was such a fighter that one never knew when her body would eventually force her to let go. As such it was never clear if I should fly home. There was little I could do from such a distance to support my family. I had slept poorly for nearly a week – expecting a phone call at any moment. I got that call on the Monday evening (Tues morning back home). Unable to turn off the light, unwilling to shut my eyes, I fell asleep some time near 3am in front of the TV – very unusual for me.
The next day I started writing – nothing sooths me as well as a pen and paper. In the midst of my tears and reminiscence a Eulogy emerged. I shared it with mum who in turn shared it with Grandpa. The relief I felt and peace I found when told that my uncle Paul wanted to read out my Eulogy at her funeral, was immense. On the day I would be there, in some way.
I now feel ready to go home. My heart is ready. I want to spend some real time in Australia, reconnecting with my family, getting to know Bernard’s family and friends better and mine getting to know him. Yes, there is uncertainty about career opportunities, and yes our lifestyles will be completely different to what I have known these past years. But we are safe in the knowledge that if, after twelve months living back in Australia, our hearts are ready to be back in the UK, then that’s exactly what we can do. Though it is going to be exceptionally difficult saying goodbye to our English friends we’ve known all these years. I get weepy at the thought and its still just over two months til we leave.
But the highlight of the summer was 26 June 2010. I had been experiencing homesickness – wanting to be close to my mother whilst her mother was very ill. Under that pretext Bernard had arranged a day for me to catch up with friends. I thought nothing of it – other than he was being a splendid boyfriend and hand-on-heart I can say that I had no idea what was coming. All I knew was that I was to be at Cutty Sark DLR in Greenwich for 10.30am. The day was utterly heavenly. At each stage I met a dear friend(s) who spoilt me rotten then gave me a clue as to where I was headed next. My final destination was to be at the place where Bernard and I first met. I thought it would be pretty silly if I was meeting someone else – so surely I was meeting Bernard this time.
And there he was – hurrah! At this stage I’d had a few glasses of bubbly and a few martinis so wasn’t interested in drinking anything but water. So we sat down at the table where we had our first date. This is nice, I thought to myself. Bernard handed me a puzzle box (I already knew how to open it because he’d infuriated me the previous Christmas trying to open it) and said inside it is a symbol. I started shaking, my heart racing. I fumbled for a good minute trying to open the box. It opened, and out came a ring – not THE ring, but one of his rings. I looked at the ring. I looked at Bernard. I picked up the ring and turned to Bernard at which point he said “will you?” Suddenly Bernard found himself with a weeping Lizzie clinging onto him for dear life saying repeatedly “yes of course I will, yes yes”. After he recomposed himself (it was a little dusty in the room) he said he didn’t presume to know my taste in rings (right response) and thought that since we are going travelling that it would be best to look at rings later. I agreed wholeheartedly.
Moments later, leaving Bernard’s pint half drunk, we returned to the flat to drink some celebratory bubbly. I was laughing and crying the whole walk home. “Oh you’ve put on a spread” I exclaimed when we walked into our flat. “Hmm, that’s Julie’s handbag? Is Julie here?” Moments later I realised that we were having a party with those who took part in the day, and the tears stopped and I started partying with gusto. My apologies if you received a drunken phone call from me that night (day in Australia), but I was far too happy to contain my enthusiasm.
On adjusting to the realities of leaving
The engagement gave me a greater sense of purpose in our return to Australia. We are getting married, and at some stage buy a house (fingers and toes Pound Stirling strengthens) and start a family (God willing). Sure, the idea of finding a place to live, a job and plan a wedding within nine months of returning did initially overwhelm me. But then I figure I will be far too busy upon my return to be wistful about the UK. This has got to be a good thing. And I’ve done my research and I’ve even compiled a loose budget (my goodness weddings are expensive). We know we want a relaxed style wedding on the Victorian surf coast, and I am content that we know where to start when we get home. I can let go of any wedding anxiety and enjoy travelling.
The recent passing of my grandmother (Judy Kelly) has also had an impact on my desire to return. Many times she had been close to death during the past eighteen months – she was such a fighter that one never knew when her body would eventually force her to let go. As such it was never clear if I should fly home. There was little I could do from such a distance to support my family. I had slept poorly for nearly a week – expecting a phone call at any moment. I got that call on the Monday evening (Tues morning back home). Unable to turn off the light, unwilling to shut my eyes, I fell asleep some time near 3am in front of the TV – very unusual for me.
The next day I started writing – nothing sooths me as well as a pen and paper. In the midst of my tears and reminiscence a Eulogy emerged. I shared it with mum who in turn shared it with Grandpa. The relief I felt and peace I found when told that my uncle Paul wanted to read out my Eulogy at her funeral, was immense. On the day I would be there, in some way.
I now feel ready to go home. My heart is ready. I want to spend some real time in Australia, reconnecting with my family, getting to know Bernard’s family and friends better and mine getting to know him. Yes, there is uncertainty about career opportunities, and yes our lifestyles will be completely different to what I have known these past years. But we are safe in the knowledge that if, after twelve months living back in Australia, our hearts are ready to be back in the UK, then that’s exactly what we can do. Though it is going to be exceptionally difficult saying goodbye to our English friends we’ve known all these years. I get weepy at the thought and its still just over two months til we leave.
Prelude, meeting Bernard, decision to leave - the long way back
Prelude
When I left Canberra bound for the Americas in March 2005 my mother said to people that I’d fit into the living the UK with such ease that I probably wouldn’t return to live in Australia for a long while, if ever. Five and a half years on, I take comfort that my mother, in all her wisdom, knew me better than I knew myself. I didn’t get asked “when are you coming back” by my parents – and in those brief moments of uncertainty, their unconditional support had a far greater impact then I had ever acknowledged at the time.
Within a few years I had established a thriving career in the public sector, helping organisations to undo a couple of centuries of old habits and red tape. By this stage I knew that only an emotional decision that would lure me back to Australia. My disposable income had never been better and I had significant personal fulfilment from doing something I loved. And despite the grey winters, I was thriving in the English climate, loving the green countryside and the plethora of cultural opportunities on my doorstep in London town and the Continent.
So what would stir such emotion I wondered, and when would that happen? Of course, you all know how the story goes, but there is pleasure in writing it down, so indulge me if you will.
On meeting Bernard
I met an Australian lad in the summer of 2008 who changed my life. A mutual friend from my brief stint at Westminster City Council suggested we meet – after all, two successful Australians who happen to be avid Geelong fans living in Islington really ought to know each other. I thank Lee wholeheartedly for making such an introduction.
After twelve months (and what a milestone) we moved into our flat in Highbury. It took a few months getting used to living in each other’s pockets – me getting used to Bernard’s clutter – and Bernard getting used to me always tidying up his things…at which point we sensed our relationship had a bright future and were looking forward to introducing each other to our family and friends during our visit to Australia in October/November 2009.
On the decision to leave – the long way back
I recall the conversation we had during a quiet moment at Meg and Hamilton’s wedding. Bernard said that the trip home had confirmed for him that he was ready to come home, but was keen for this to be a decision we made together. Though in all honesty I was reluctant to leave the UK, it was also very intoxicating, to not be so far away from so many dear friends and family in Australia. Before too long we had concurred that the second half of 2010 was as good a time as any to think about returning.
At some point, and I don’t know when exactly, Bernard convinced me that we should go the long way back, via Africa, South and Central America. This is something I would never have considered, a few months, yes, but at least nine months, if not more? Such an enterprise could not be entered into lightly. In true Lizzie fashion, I sat down and poured over the figures, deliberating at length. Do I spend part of my house deposit on travelling? Can I afford to do this? I put together a funding strategy, not helped by the ridiculously poor value of Pound Stirling, and after a few months and one very important contract extension, I informed Bernard that I was comfortable leaving the UK in October 2010.
Then my brothers confirmed their plans of visiting us in September and everything fell into place. It was the perfect way to finish our time in the UK. We booked our Africa trip and flights through to Buenos Aires, and left everything else. We have had a glorious summer – sunshine for weeks on end (huge) and a calendar filled with activities. Hen and stag do’s for Jim and Sarah and their glorious wedding in Kew Gardens, Henley (at long last), Greece (seeing the svelte Nobles), Wimbledon, a Test at Lords, as well as lots of theatre, ballet and opera (mostly me, not Bernard).
When I left Canberra bound for the Americas in March 2005 my mother said to people that I’d fit into the living the UK with such ease that I probably wouldn’t return to live in Australia for a long while, if ever. Five and a half years on, I take comfort that my mother, in all her wisdom, knew me better than I knew myself. I didn’t get asked “when are you coming back” by my parents – and in those brief moments of uncertainty, their unconditional support had a far greater impact then I had ever acknowledged at the time.
Within a few years I had established a thriving career in the public sector, helping organisations to undo a couple of centuries of old habits and red tape. By this stage I knew that only an emotional decision that would lure me back to Australia. My disposable income had never been better and I had significant personal fulfilment from doing something I loved. And despite the grey winters, I was thriving in the English climate, loving the green countryside and the plethora of cultural opportunities on my doorstep in London town and the Continent.
So what would stir such emotion I wondered, and when would that happen? Of course, you all know how the story goes, but there is pleasure in writing it down, so indulge me if you will.
On meeting Bernard
I met an Australian lad in the summer of 2008 who changed my life. A mutual friend from my brief stint at Westminster City Council suggested we meet – after all, two successful Australians who happen to be avid Geelong fans living in Islington really ought to know each other. I thank Lee wholeheartedly for making such an introduction.
After twelve months (and what a milestone) we moved into our flat in Highbury. It took a few months getting used to living in each other’s pockets – me getting used to Bernard’s clutter – and Bernard getting used to me always tidying up his things…at which point we sensed our relationship had a bright future and were looking forward to introducing each other to our family and friends during our visit to Australia in October/November 2009.
On the decision to leave – the long way back
I recall the conversation we had during a quiet moment at Meg and Hamilton’s wedding. Bernard said that the trip home had confirmed for him that he was ready to come home, but was keen for this to be a decision we made together. Though in all honesty I was reluctant to leave the UK, it was also very intoxicating, to not be so far away from so many dear friends and family in Australia. Before too long we had concurred that the second half of 2010 was as good a time as any to think about returning.
At some point, and I don’t know when exactly, Bernard convinced me that we should go the long way back, via Africa, South and Central America. This is something I would never have considered, a few months, yes, but at least nine months, if not more? Such an enterprise could not be entered into lightly. In true Lizzie fashion, I sat down and poured over the figures, deliberating at length. Do I spend part of my house deposit on travelling? Can I afford to do this? I put together a funding strategy, not helped by the ridiculously poor value of Pound Stirling, and after a few months and one very important contract extension, I informed Bernard that I was comfortable leaving the UK in October 2010.
Then my brothers confirmed their plans of visiting us in September and everything fell into place. It was the perfect way to finish our time in the UK. We booked our Africa trip and flights through to Buenos Aires, and left everything else. We have had a glorious summer – sunshine for weeks on end (huge) and a calendar filled with activities. Hen and stag do’s for Jim and Sarah and their glorious wedding in Kew Gardens, Henley (at long last), Greece (seeing the svelte Nobles), Wimbledon, a Test at Lords, as well as lots of theatre, ballet and opera (mostly me, not Bernard).
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