A Connected Isolation

Antipodal Posting – A Connected Isolation

“Worlds away” is the sort of feeling that I have when I reflect upon how our life has been over during the last four years. Having moved from Calgary to Australia and now to New Zealand has been different enough. But it’s more than just geography. Our jobs have changed our experiences, our career paths and our perceptions. The proximity to the familiar has become replaced with becoming familiar.

It is easy to feel disconnected from Calgary and Canada, especially in a remote New Zealand province because of the loss of proximity but also the decay of what was once relevant. A seemingly trivial example of how things change involves pizza with friends.

Recently, we went to a friend's for wine and pizza; hardly earth shattering. However, she and her boys have been dear friends for years and our routine used to consist of hosting her most Friday nights for wine when we lived in Calgary. In our previous life it was great; a convenient and a lovely way to end the week. Even then it required some organization as we were all busy, but she lived within a kilometer so the wine needed to be in the fridge the night before, or at least a bucket of ice. So not really that much of an organization burden.

Fast forward to October 2013 and she's now living in London. The organization required is now significantly more than before. More organization and also flights were required this time. In fact, 37 hours of flights, travelling through Auckland, Sydney and Dubai before finally coming to some form of catatonic rest in London.

The best thing is that the wine and the pizza were still great, owing significantly to the strength of the friendship (and the indefatigable powers of pizza) as well as the knowledge that we were settling in for the weekend and then starting to travel on with them.  

So there we were, Saturday morning in London, trying to recover from our travel. Our bodies still being  tugged by the New Zealand’s singular time zone (they only have one, can you believe it?), waiting for the sun to rise and e-mailing friends in Canada catching up or trying to understand what the Shale Gas protest in NB was all about.

I feel decidedly disconnected from the local scene and even Canadian politics in general. I know that Harper suspended parliament again, but not sure if it's been restored or even the underlying issue.  We experience a certain lag in the news itself, but also the amount of effort required to chase down details that don't pertain to our daily routine seems incommensurate.

For us it seems odd that connections seem difficult to maintain, notwithstanding the plethora of communication platforms that are (more or less) reliable at a (more or less) nominal cost. However, the travel and relocating that we have done, has shown us that while we lose the daily connections with our friends and family, the ties we do have can still be strong.

The disconnection and isolation extends to other news of the day. We have also been surprised with how certain news, such as the floods in Calgary, travels quickly to us, through established networks of friends and colleagues, whereas the news of the fires in Australia moved comparatively slowly while we were in Europe. These types of discoveries have also changed our perspective of the world and our place within it. 

This was perhaps most noticeable when our trip also passed through Greece and then later Paris.

View of Lakka Harbour

Greece was something of a found opportunity as one of Nicole’s consultants offered up the use of his villa for a week. Plans that hadn’t included the small Greek island were soon diverted to a week to a place that had more feral cats than people. Greece was also where I reminded myself about the dangers of stereotypes.

We found ourselves on the funny little remote island of Paxos; an island in the Ionian Sea, that boasts olive tree covered mountains, beautiful inlets and small friendly villages.

One morning I was out for a run to counteract the feta cheese, olives and breads we've been eating in copious quantities and I turned down this little fenced path, only to be greeted from call of "good morning" from above. I look up to see a small Greek man calling down and waving at me.

"Good morning, is this ok for me?" I replied, making sure I wasn't trespassing.

"Yes, yes. Good morning.  Where are you from?" came the reply

What's the worst that could happen?

"Well, Canada, but I live in New Zealand now."

A puzzled expression, a pause and then, "Will you come up for coffee?"

Right, out for a run and now some random stranger has invited me for coffee? It seemed a little odd, but fortunately I know how warm Greek hospitality can be. I also know that the Greeks love their coffee and I personally know at least two Greeks that I know make pretty fine coffee. So I concluded that naturally, all Greeks must make great coffee, or at least have a penchant for it. So, my curiosity, sense of decency and Canadian politeness all combined for a perfect storm of decorum.  What else could I say, but "thank you". (Also the villa lacked coffee making tech.)

Inside I went to meet Spirosay, my local host for a cup of his finest blend; shaking hands, removing shoes and offering thanks.

After our mutual introductions, my gracious host, asks "how many sugar you would like?”

"Only one please Spirosay." Again aiming to be polite – one is part of sharing, and trying to have sweetened coffee like your host, but not too much sugar, since I don't take sugar in my coffee at all.

It was as Spiros was obliging that the realisation hit me that I was in trouble. "How many scoops of coffee?"

"Pardon me Spiros?"

"Coffee. How many scoops you would like? Scoop of coffee." He repeated holding up a container of Nescafe instant frappechino mix.

"Fu<k me, none, you creepy degenerate." Didn't quite seem like the right answer, so I winced and meekly said, "One would be very generous thank you."

While listening to some type of Greek disco revival music, Spiros finished with a flourish and whipped the coffeesque drink and served it in a HI ball glass at room temperature. Glancing at the door I swore that I could see my skin crawling out the door.

During the course of our faux coffee, we had an interesting conversation about his time on Paxos, the death of his 93 year old father, the fact that he's 45, his mother, how commercial fishing boats have over-fished the local waters, the seasonal ebb and flow of prospects in his village of Lakka, employment prospects in New Zealand and Australia, how white my skin was, the price of our airline tickets from NZ to Greece and if all of my siblings and I shared the same father.

Naturally I started becoming increasingly uncomfortable; thinking of the Liam Neeson movies with rogue Albanians causing all sorts of mayhem. Paxos is very near Albania and anywhere in Greece is really the last place anyone would look for Albanians, good bad or indifferent.

The view is always better with ouzo

My stereotypes of Greek’s being coffee lovers shattered, I returned to my run and reflected upon the various experience that only come through travel. Lovely hospitality, interesting insights but it took about an hour of swimming in the sea to get the taste of Spiro's special blend fake coffee concoction out of my mouth. Finally a reason why they drink ouzo, but it was soon a distant memory as we turned our attention to Paris. 

Anyone who says "there's no place like home" either has never been to Paris, or lives there. This has become increasingly problematic for me, as I’ve come to the conclusion that “home is where Nicole and Spencer are”. So when were in Oz that was home. When we moved to NZ that became home. Now, the question begs “why not Paris?” I’m not joking. Not even a little.

Paris - worth supporting

If anyone knows of any super lucrative positions for management level engineers or intermediate common law lawyers in Paris (preferably arrondissements 1-8, maybe 11 as well), please, please let Nicole or I know immediately. Again, I’m not joking. Seriously, not joking.

Spencer has become a pro at flying.  She loves it, got a little sick on the first two flights but was aces the rest of the time.  In particular Spencer love Emirates Airline because they offer a whole suite of kid friendly things, wrapped in a carry bag. Already at 5 she is fond of shoes and bags; her mother’s daughter.

She turned 5 in Sept. and then proceeded to loss her first tooth in Greece (worth 5 Euro from the Tooth Fairy) and then lost another in Paris, (another 5 Euro – both prices seem beyond the Tooth Fairy’s schedule of rates, but 5 Euro is the smallest paper denomination available, so the argument goes).

Super impressive Spencer facts from the trip:

• Spencer can explain subject perspective in paintings, after her visit to the 
• She can also explain why the Mona Lisa looks to be moving her eyes; 
• When we got back to NP, she announced "Look, the moon has changed direction".

She was right. It's a waxing crescent presently and while in Dubai, we were on the concave side, but we're now on the convex.  That was about an hour after getting home she pulled that one out. It’s amazing how the travel we’ve done has contributed to her ability to observe, relate and make connections.

My 2nd fan

In other news we’re looking forward to our third set of house guests this year (equalling the total for our time in Oz), marking the one year mark of life in New Plymouth and our first Christmas here. On the topic of Christmas, as a courtesy I thought I would share with you the leading gift idea for the season, the gift of reading.

As of late November, my first published novel will be available for purchase (either on Kindle or traditional printed formats). This will afford you the opportunity to purchase as many copies as you’d like for both yourself as well as for any gifts you might want! 

Watch this space for the official announcement.

We hope that you are all well.

d