Looking back as one does at this time of the year to reflect on the one that just tipped down over the horizon under the disguise of omnipresent grey clouds, we are able to sigh deeply with content and say “it’s been a good one!” And for that, we are blah blah fish paste and also just incredibly grateful to have this life we live.
This year has been the first full year I have had a full time job here in France. Never did I ever expect to return to working in a restaurant after I got married and the kids had arrived, so this has provided us with new family challenges, situations to ponder over and weigh in as to what’s important in life. There have been times when the sheer exhaustion of running a household, trying to raise children and work the long hours I do has caused me to moan incessantly about how unappreciated I feel, and then my hubby gently reminds me that we can always return to living in a 100 square-metre-apartment-box-without-a-view if I would like to throw in the towel.
But, oh the savage irony of it! Now that we can afford a nicer place to live with a view and meals on the terrace, I’m not even there every day to enjoy it anymore. Let’s not even go into the little bit extra we can put away to go on holiday, only to have less time for travel now. (Granted, when you take a 3 week trip to SA, it does cut into holiday leave quite considerably).
However, 2018 saw a happy amount of travel for the duPs, despite my recent whingeing (see above)- Ireland, Norway and South Africa all in one year. (It goes without saying that these were all pleasure; hubby included 3 other countries for work in between Ireland and Norway and one after. Sheesh, I’m glad I’m not him!) I know I wrote to you about our Irish trip, but I’ve just realised I never wrote about Bergen in Norway after we spent the week there in early July; and since we returned to Strasbourg after the October and November weddings in South Africa, we have been so flat-out busy that I haven’t written a single word except for shopping lists and a recipe for spaetzle on my phone.
Bergen was a real treat. It was the reward for Anton being honoured with The Presidents Award at work, finally they recognised the time and hours he dedicates to his job. There were 18 couples from across Ortho Europe and Asia that were hosted by the divisional president, we had an opportunity to feel recognised by the company, to meet other members of the ‘family’ and to see a city that we may not necessarily have chosen to visit. (#expensivescandanaviancity…) The 3 days we were there were jam-packed with provided activities and exquisite meals, being able to take in old world delights and history and enjoy almost continual daylight. Seeing the sun trying to set at 1 o clock in the morning but not actually achieving that made all of the winters I have endured here worth it. Imagine- a ‘gin and tonic’ hour that goes on for more than one hour? My idea of a good thing actually!
However, the challenge that comes with taking a trip like this in a country where you don’t have family meant we would have to make very careful plans for childcare. Paying for a week long aupair seemed out of the question, and relying on friends in the last week of school term wasn’t an option. In the end I appealed to an old Bostonite who grew up on a neighbouring farm 10 years ahead of me, and now lives in Holland. She brought her family down for a holiday in Strasbourg, and looked after our girls while they got a home to stay in and a car to drive around in and we had peace of mind that nothing would go wrong. I will be forever grateful that Sally, Carlos and their fabulous daughters were able to help us out. And I will always cherish and treasure the community that I had the privilege of growing up in, for the values it instilled in me, for the sense of belonging to something so intrinsically unique and marvelous that it has ripple-on-pond-like effects on my adult life. We really don’t have anything like this anymore, so I’m going to take stock and be grateful at any opportunity.
Being able to visit Boston for 10 days in October was also a highlight of our 2018 year. I know being on holiday is the polar opposite to living the life and grind that my fellow Bostonites do, but that opportunity to be part of that community for just 9 days was enough for me to feel like we could return home. If we could, we would love to. Beth, despite spending most of her life here so far, still craves more South Africanisms than she should. She bursts into Nkosi Sikilele and wears her Madiba ShweShwe and Zulu beads at every opportunity. She craves braai meat over pink steak cooked in a pan. She attempts greeting me in Zulu and saying thank you in Afrikaans occasionally and reminds me almost weekly that as soon as she’s 18, she will go back. She can’t quite figure out where she will live, but I suspect her Aunty Belinda is far too lenient on her, because she seems to think Anton’s sister will let her live there forever. But the draw to living on Netherby is also huge. She LOVES her friends that she made in Boston. She loves knowing her cousins are there.
Coming back to Strasbourg in November was undoubtedly difficult. All that time with our family, all of those huge beautiful spaces and all that lovely food (5kgs, which I CANNOT shed still now) made the transition more difficult. Going back to 4 very difficult weeks at work either helped or didn’t, but the pangs of homesickness and nostalgia have passed along with Christmas and the end of the year.
Yet still, there’s something that I haven’t quite been able to put behind me.
Living abroad, the news that mostly comes across to us is the bad stories, those really shitty over-inflated news stories that have some rando persons over-exaggerated opinion of a situation (note to self- perhaps you should really make a bigger effort to stop being so judge-y), semi-fake news sites that just want to stir shit and also those tragic stories of loss of life. You have to actively search for the feel good stories, and those ones very seldom see the sharing value of the tragic, hatred-fueled ones. That’s why whenever I want to raise a topical issue with my sister, she gently rebuffs me, as if to suggest I don’t have the full story thus I don’t need to opine. Which is true. So last year I followed news broadcasts and my poor hubby had to bear the extent of my conversations, and unfortunately, there are a few minor points we disagree on, and since neither of us like being wrong, it’s easier to just not let it get to us. Seeing Zuma kicked out was thrilling, but the omnipresent racial issues are taxing to say the least.
Nonetheless, I was quite intrigued at what I discovered when we relocated our holiday from Boston KZN to Centurion, Gauteng.
While we visited Boston, there was no indication of feeling unsafe, nobody reminded you to stay locked up, locked in, shut away unless you HAD to leave the space you inhabit. We drove with our windows down, we greeted every person with a friendly smile, we didn’t expect to be spat on for sparing a sideways glance.
Unfortunately, when we arrived in Gauteng, we were warned- lock your car doors, hold on tight to your childrens’ hands, expect to get bad treatment at the bank/post office/supermarket checkout, don’t look at anyone askew, make sure you greet anybody and everybody who greets you for fear of being declared racist if you don’t.
WHAT IS THIS? For real? It’s shameful and sad that we have to be reminded how to treat any other human being. My own mother used to wind up her window if a beggar tried to approach her, she would speak in a harried critical manner to any person if they tried to sell her something on the phone.
For reasons that I cannot define, there is a fear that runs rife in the Gauteng region. The fear may be validated- theft and poverty from a government unable to provide has seen crime reach disproportionate levels and on the opposite end, those that have even a little feel like they need to cling onto that, be it a shopping cart of what should be inexpensive groceries or the air they breathe and earth upon which they tread. However, I believe that if we stopped at looked at each-others’ situation from the others perspective, it would take that fear away. We would empathise better with the person who can’t express themselves in the manner we anticipate. We might realise that while we are all different, we are, in fact, all striving for the same thing: the right to be recognised not for what we have to give the world, but to be recognised simply as equal.
The 21st century is all about the right to be equal, and if we can’t all be financially equal, let’s at least start with treating each-other with the respect that we would like to receive.
My goal this year is to not gain any more weight- I failed last year- and to continue looking at life from a different perspective. This year I want to actually make an effort to write more than just this blog. I want to write something that doesn’t portray everything that is good in my life. Don’t get me wrong, I am extremely grateful for the absolute privilege that I have with waking up every morning under a heavy warm down duvet, that I can choose to eat breakfast or not, that I have 3 easy ways of going to and from my daily routine, and that I actually have to make an effort to loose weight. I want to read stuff that is out of my comfort zone, I want to feel discomfit and I want to express this to others. Even if the words are repetitive and being forced down us everywhere we look, it’s not enough. This year, however, won’t be the year I become an organic nut. I really love you, all my European friends who are so fantastic about zero waste, but this also is a completely privileged space to be in, so we’re just going to make a bigger effort to reduce our carbon footprint. (She says, shortly before clinking her way to the glass recycling bin with a bag full of empty wine bottles, shrugging because at least this time it doesn’t involve ditching 24 teeny tiny Grimbergen bottles that are 250ml worth of beer. Sheesh).
I’m not sure where this all went to today. I started this blog post 2 weeks ago just because I haven’t written to you in 4 months, and I ended up attempting to get stuff off my chest in a very circumspect manner, for which I apologise, and I hope I haven’t either a.)bored you to absolute death, or b.) made you feel uncomfortable.
As I sign off, I need to decide if I want to go for a run, or walk, or test out the hot water in my shower, to finally have the whole “coming back from holiday to find our home without heating or hot water” debacle signed off. Which is it going to be?
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2 hours later: Went for a run and tried out the shower. It was bliss. Next thing on the home agenda is to fix the washing machine, and work more definitively towards buying our own small piece of France to live in. No more paying other peoples mortgages for this family. No doubt it will provide a few more blog posts from me ;-).
Before the month is up, let me just say Happy New Year or Bonne Année to you and yours. May the year ahead bring you as many challenges as you deserve, all the love that you need, and happy moments to last a lifetime.
Our love and best wishes,
Chat soon,
Love Me,
Xxx
Pinot, Bretzels, and Cathedrals 