It's been a while

It's been quite some time since I brain vommed my thoughts all over this blog. A year in fact. So long that my internet browser didn't automatically fill in the URL when I started typing it. It had assumed, along with me, that I'd given this blog up just like the last one. The web page even looked a bit old and dusty, until I realised it was just my ANCIENT laptop's massive dodgy screen that was covered in dust. (I'm determined to resist buying a new laptop until this one properly conks out)

I just haven't felt that burning urge to write for so long. Sometimes an idea would pop into my head but once written down it looked lame, immature and ridiculous. When we were moving around all the time, travelling, gathering stories, experiences and lessons it was easy to write. It's no trouble finding inspiration when you're living somewhere interesting and beautiful. Staring at the ocean, or a mountain range. Anyone could do it. 

Living in landlocked Hertfordshire during a lockdown hasn't brought quite the same kind of inspiration. Staring at the same walls day in and day out, watching the TV (or the Box of Doom it should probably be called now) and wondering if the world was ending made me too anxious to do anything. I saw others producing beautiful, articulate and well-thought out articles about the pandemic and lockdown and wondered why I couldn't do the same. I assumed then that I was actually a terrible writer, could only write when I was having a good time, off on my jollies prancing about the planet. 

I should point out that Hertfordshire really isn't that bad. It has a lot of beautiful countryside, many fields of wheat of which Theresa May could only but dream of running through, and lovely rivers and ponds. I've been very fortunate to discover some crackin' local walks this year. It's just y'know, not where I want to be.

It's been an eventful year of course, but I didn't feel I had the right to talk about my experiences of 2020 so far when really, I haven't had it that bad. Yes, we had to postpone our wedding. So did a thousand other couples, a lot of whom had a much harder time of it than we did. Sure, I was furloughed. I still received full pay and am now back at my job. Many weren't so lucky. Yes lockdown has been hard in our tiny flat with no garden. But at least I've got Nick with me, and haven't experienced the loneliness I know a lot of others have. 

This year I've watched relationships break down, pregnancies go wrong, the loss of loved ones, jobs and homes. Friends having to abruptly leave countries they had come to call home. Families unable to see each other for months. New dads not allowed to see their babies. Friends scared to leave their houses because of the colour of their skin. People dealing with all the shit life can throw at a person, all the while navigating their way through a global pandemic. And that's just people I actually know.

In the wider world there have been men and women killed because they are black. Families forced to flee their homes, cross oceans then being denied safety, or left to live in extreme poverty by those in power who think they are somehow more important than other human beings. Trans women beaten and robbed while bystanders watch and do nothing to help.

I could have written about the Black Lives Matter movement, but do we really need another privileged white woman's take on this? (no - but please look up black female authors instead). I could have written pages about the conservation issues that this pandemic has brought to light. But I just couldn't bring myself to when reading about it was so depressing. 

I should probably stop complaining about my lack of a garden tbh.

I'm not saying we can't talk about our own problems because other people have it worse. We wouldn't keep quiet about our happy moments because others have been happier would we?! I'm just saying if I couldn't be bothered to write about my 2020 woes, how could I expect others to want to read them?

The world seems like an ugly and desperate place right now. It's important to open our eyes to what's going on. To be aware of our privilege. To do what we can to help whatever that means - protest, donate, have conversations, educate ourselves and ensure we are NOT bystanders. 

I think if there's a positive to come out of this year it's that we've had a lot of thinking time. Time to figure out what matters to us. What we want to do with our time on this planet. Who we want to spend that time with. Where we want to spend it. 

The world may go back to how it was before, pre NHS clapping and neighbourly friendliness (we already had a bin stolen last week and I'm now suspicious of everyone on my street) but I hope we can remember those early weeks of lockdown when we were all terrified, but somehow felt bonded in our fear. There were so many little acts of kindness during those weeks, pure moments of connection and joy and humanity. 

We need to hold on to our tiny pieces of positivity too. Whether that's a smile from a stranger behind a mask (thanks Tyra Banks for teaching millenials how to SMIIIIZZEEEE). Or sitting in a beer garden again. Or appreciating the micro achievements of this year, if there have been any. If there haven't, who cares - you've survived 2020 this far and that is cause to celebrate.

To end with something positive, here are some 'skills' I've learned during lockdown/a list of things I've been meaning to get around to for about 10 years and had no excuse to put off anymore once I was trapped in my flat with no job or friends to distract me:

1. Spanish. Quiero mas vino por favor! (this skill is ongoing but I've learned the most important sentence anyway)

2. How to correctly use a moon cup. Genuine life changer.

3. How to actually manage my hair. HELLO CURLY GIRL METHOD! This has been a game changer and I feel I could write an entire blog post about it (cue much screaming and escaping from anyone I've rabbited on about this to in the last couple of months) I won't, don't worry. I now get to spend about 5 hours, once a week looking like this:

4. Running. I've been running on and off for a few years but it's mostly been off and I've never got further than 4k without thinking I will surely die. Over lockdown though I've actually started *GASP* enjoying it and am one run away from FINALLY completing a Couch to 5K, an app that I have downloaded about 75,000 times, but never finished in the last decade.

I actually didn't think I'd done ANYTHING productive this year until I made this wee list, so I'd highly recommend doing the same - it makes you feel pretty good!

The end of "summer".

Today is September 1st. I woke up this morning and checked my phone and my first thought was "yessss finally it's the first day of spring!" It then slowly dawned on me that no, it was not spring with its hope of warmth and fun, daffodils and tulips and sunshine.

Nope, it's the end of summer actually. Autumn and winter are approaching, and I for one am not impressed.

Is it because I'm still on New Zealand time and September = Spring? Perhaps. But I think it's more the fact that I feel like I've missed out on a summer this year. I can count on one hand the times I've left the house without a coat on since moving to Mull. It's gotten above 18 degrees even less than that.

When I was packing to move up here, it was April and warm. I optimistically packed one jumper and decided that would be enough as I was just moving here for the summer. Summer does not equal jumpers. Yes it was Scotland and yes I'd heard the rumours that Scotland is cold and wet. But I figured the British like to exaggerate especially when it comes to the weather, and really it wouldn't be that bad.

A week later I made my mum post the rest of my jumpers up to me. I haven't taken them off since.

This may sound like the ramblings of a crazed woman, but to be honest I'm just a bit fed up. I LIVE for summer. I'm not one of these people who love it when autumn arrives and they can wrap up in all the layers. I want to wear shorts and t-shirt at all times. I want to be too hot and sweaty and never take my sunglasses off and swim in the sea and read a book outside and get bitten by mozzies and go camping and have lunchtime outdoor beers and not even think about coats or jeans for months. I love it all.

Whilst we've had maybe two or three days like that here, it's mostly been raining and cold.

Back in December Nick and I moved back to the UK. We left NZ, a country that we are completely in love with and were so happy living in. We left our gorgeous house by the sea, left Kaikoura - a town that felt like our home, sold and gave away our things and moved back.

We moved back to be closer to our families and our friends.

We moved back in with our parents and spent four months applying for every single job that we could find. It was hard work, job hunting and not earning. We wanted to see our friends but had to be careful with money, so mostly we didn't see them. Jobs we thought we'd easily get didn't even get back to us.

Then finally, FINALLY after four months of nothing, Nick got an interview and was then offered a job as a wildlife guide up here on the Isle of Mull. He obviously took it, and soon after I was offered my job in the same place. It was SUCH a relief. Yes I wouldn't be earning very much, neither would Nick, but they were JOBS and in the same place, and in fields that we both wanted to be in. Amazing.

Mull is an island on the west coast of Scotland, part of the inner Hebrides. It's a beautiful place, wild and green and full of incredible wildlife. It's an exciting place to be, and I'm grateful that we were able to live here for a few months. I've been lucky enough to go sailing on my work's research boat for a few days, have seen multiple minke whales, dolphins and even a basking shark. I've learned a lot about marine conservation and met interesting people who have shared so much knowledge with me. I've seen the sea every day and climbed a mountain and been surrounded by nature. There have been many highlights to living here.

What I wasn't prepared for was quite how far away it is from everything and everyone that we came back for. It sometimes feels like I'm on another planet never mind the other side of the UK. We've been very lucky in that some of our friends have been up to visit us, but it hasn't been possible for everyone. We've managed to go down south for a wedding and Harlequin fayre, but it took a LOT of time, money, and energy. I keep wondering why I haven't been able to save any money since being here, and realised it's because I spent everything on getting off the island to see my friends twice, for two weekends.

It's been quite a lonely few months up here. My colleagues are great, and the girls I work with every day are brilliant and have honestly kept me sane. But there haven't been many people we've connected with so we've spent a lot of time just the two of us. Good job we get on pretty well!

We also live in a houseshare, and at 31/32 having had our own place and thinking we'd never go back to housemates again, has felt like we've gone back 10 years. Unfortunately it's almost impossible to find a rental place in Tobermory as everywhere has been turned into holiday houses.

This week two of my friends back down south have each been to gigs/shows that I would have LOVED to have gone to. That's why I came back - to do these sorts of things with the people I care about. But stuck up here I can't do any of that. I may as well be on the other side of the world. Yet this was the only place we were both able to get a job.

We thought living up in Scotland would satisfy us and our need to live in a wild place. It's the closest we can get to the NZ way of life whilst still being in the UK. But for me I just find it frustrating being so close yet so far from our loved ones.

Now we're about to leave the island again as the summer season finishes. We're back to square one, and will probably go back to live with our parents and job hunt again. How long will it take this time? Another four months? Longer?

A few people have told Nick to just apply for any old thing, which I think is unfair. Marine conservation and wildlife is his passion and area of expertise. It'd be like telling an electrician to just get a job as a receptionist. Why should he settle for something else?

We're just tired of seasonal jobs now. We're in our 30s and the seasonal workers we meet are all in their early/mid 20s. We want to be a bit settled (I used to hate that word and now I'm craving it) and be able to have a dog and buy nice cushions and invite people over for dinner.

I am sorry for this negative post, I know none of these problems are that big. I know it'll all be fine and things will work out. I know these are first world problems and I should just pipe down and be grateful for the life I've got (which is bloody amazing to be fair). I'm just frustrated, I miss my friends and family, and I miss the life we had in Kaikoura. I felt closer to them in NZ than I do in Scotland.

We're looking into moving back over there. We've used up all the working holiday visa options but there are a few other possible ways of going back. It'll be difficult and cost a lot of money, and it'll be incredibly hard to leave everyone again. But both of us feel quite strongly that we're meant to live back there one day.

Usually I'd be able to rant about all of this over wine with my besties, then we'd all laugh and I'd realise everything is actually fine. But that isn't possible at the moment, and I am a millennial after all so the next best thing is ranting to the world over social media! You lucky lucky people.

Zombies and Sharks

Hi friends!

It's been a wee while since I've written anything on the ol' blog, or felt inspired to write anything for myself at all. The truth is I haven't felt very 'me' over the last few weeks and have been zombie-ing through life a bit by going to work, coming home, hiding in my room and watching Netflix, and not feeling much like anything. There have been some really great days where the sun has shone and I've swam in the sea and all has felt well, but overall, it's been a strange time and one that doesn't spark much inspiration, writing-wise.

I've blamed it on a lot of things - the weather up here (rainy 90% of the time), not being able to see my friends, having to live in a houseshare and not having our own space, and not feeling connected to anything or anyone here. All those factors have added to the 'meh' feeling and the more I feel that way, the less likely I am to do anything about it. It's easier and more comfortable to stay in my Netflix cave and zombie out.

Over the past couple of weeks I've been trying to get myself out of it and focus on things that make me feel like myself again. I've said yes to a couple of things I would have normally avoided, and have tried to focus on positive energy instead of getting bogged down by any negativity around me.

I also came across this blog I wrote a few months ago for a writing competition. I didn't win (HOW DARE THEY) so I didn't do anything with the post. When I re-read it this week it struck me that this was from a time where I felt absolutely empowered, inspired and happy, and truly ME. So I thought 'what the heck' and have decided to post it here. Enjoy:

We were about two minutes into our ascent, and I took a moment to take a final look below me. Two more thresher sharks were gliding smoothly back into the blue and I stopped briefly to watch them, still completely in awe of their graceful movement. As we continued upward, sunlight broke through the surface and danced around us making the water sparkle.

Pausing for our safety stop I took a moment to reflect on the last four days. A week ago, the idea of diving had made my heart palpitate with fear and I’d have laughed if someone told me I’d be able to conquer it in less than a week. Yet here I was just a few days later, ascending from a 30-metre shark dive and on a complete high. 

I looked across at the women I’d taken this journey with and could tell they were feeling the same joy. We played rock paper scissors while we counted down the minutes, and laughed through our regulators. It was surreal and wonderful, and it suddenly hit me that I’d never felt more alive or empowered as I did in this moment. My eyes brimmed with happy tears as I realised that facing my ultimate fear and learning to dive was the best decision I’d ever made.

I’ve always been a bit of a panicky person. The idea of running out of air in any setting gives me recurring nightmares and I can’t watch any films set in space or underwater in-case things go wrong (spoiler alert: they always do). I tried diving a few years ago and my instructor attempted to teach me a couple of skills. The moment I let my mask fill with water I panicked so much that he was forced to take me back up to the surface. The rest of the dive was a blur as I concentrated so hard on staying calm that I barely noticed any of the marine life around me. I wrote diving off after that – it clearly wasn’t for me.

Two years later and I’m travelling around South East Asia with Nick. He’s an experienced diver and would often go on dive adventures during our travels, whilst I did my own sightseeing on dry land. I enjoyed exploring on my own, but always wondered what I was missing out on underwater.

It was when we arrived in Malapascua, a small island in the Philippines, that the idea of learning to dive resurfaced. I would be spending the next few days here on my own as Nick was off to visit an old friend on another island. I was figuring out my plans and when he suggested getting my PADI open water, I decided on impulse to do it. I don’t know if it was being surrounded by the inviting turquoise Visayan sea that changed my mind or the fact that I was two Pina Coladas in, but it suddenly seemed like an excellent idea and excitement began to override the fear.

I signed up with Divelink Cebu and met my instructor who was wonderful and immediately put me at ease. Mariela encouraged me to let her know which parts frightened me (TAKING MY MASK OFF, DYING UNDERWATER, EVERYTHING!) and didn’t make me feel stupid when I panicked once again on our first dive. Instead, she invited me to put my trust in her, beautifully managed to convey her sense of humour underwater to calm me down, and by a couple of dives later I was filling my mask with water like it was the most normal part of my day.

On the boat heading out for our second dive, anxiety hit once again. I felt incredibly overwhelmed by the task, short of breath and downright terrified. As I sat on the edge of the rib and fought back tears, Mariela noticed that all was not well, and helped me get my breathing back to normal. She assured me she would be watching the whole time and that I ABSOLUTELY COULD do this. I eventually believed her, calmed myself down, and took the plunge.

By the time we had finished that second dive, something had clicked. Somehow in those 45 minutes the sensible part of my brain had taken over and restored calm, and the realisation had hit me out of the blue that this was...actually...fun?! It was all about breathing! Why had no one told me? Although there were some skills that took me a while to master, I was taking to diving like a…well…fish to water. By our fourth and final dive I had mastered my buoyancy and was finally able to relax, and in doing so, I was able to notice everything around me. Nudibranchs, huge brightly coloured coral, clownfish, pipefish, huge cushiony sea stars – it was a colourful world down there! I knew before we had even surfaced that I wanted more.

After qualifying as open water divers, my dive buddy Corinna and I immediately signed up to go on a thresher shark dive. It would be a dive down to 30 metres where the sharks hang out and we had to take another exam to be able to descend that far. We were both giddy with excitement (and nitrogen) at that point and couldn’t wait.

Malapascua is the only place in the world where you are almost guaranteed to see thresher sharks every day. Monad Shoal is a sunken island off Malapascua that drops down to 230 metres. The sharks live and hunt in the deep water but each morning before the sun comes up, will surface to 30 metres for a good old morning shower at the cleaning stations. It just so happens that there’s a natural ledge perfect for observers at this exact spot. Hence why hundreds of divers flock to Malapascua every day and usually can’t help but stay longer than they anticipated. This isn’t a dive you just want to do once.

Our shark dive was magnificent. We saw five thresher sharks in total and they were the most beautiful, graceful creatures I’d ever seen in the wild. Mariela seemed to be able to spot them appearing out of the blue way before my eyes had adjusted, and it was hard not to hold my breath as they’d silently glide past. I’ve never had a fear of sharks, and I felt so privileged to be in this proximity to them in their natural habitat. It was incredibly peaceful watching them doing their thing, uninterested in the divers watching them, just going about their daily business.

Our time at 30 metres was over way too quickly and soon we were back on the surface once again. On the boat back to Malapascua island, Corinna and I were absolutely buzzing, and the high lasted a good couple of weeks.

I'd completely recommend doing something that scares you. Facing my fear and learning to dive was the best thing I’ve ever done. The feeling of breathing underwater is addictive, freeing and totally exhilarating. I can’t wait to get back down there again.