If this doesn’t reflect expatriate, repatriate and/or travel life, I don’t know what does.
May you travel overseas, and move wherever you please.
As for me, already have 1 trip booked, and hoping for at least 1 more. Stay tuned.
Good idea. Cheers.
Christmas is a-coming and the delivery men are in overdrive trying to deliver Christmas gifts. Finding our house is challenging enough, but when people do not provide our correct address, we are nigh on impossible to find. Needle and haystack springs to mind.
Our son ordered my Christmas present and told me it was on its way. It’s only a small lightweight parcel yet the delivery charge was almost half the value of the gift. I scratched my head as to why until I tracked the parcel online.
2 stops in the UK
1 in France
2 in Spain
1 in Lisbon
and then onto us.
I am not smiling at its carbon footprint, but I digress.
So what made me smile?
Now given vital details of the address were missing I am going to give the driver 10/10 for initiative!
When addressing packages we always ask people to include…
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We are plagued by wild campers who have no respect for the countryside. This sign near Praia da Amoreira made me laugh, and inspired me to write a poem which is also about crap!
Please Scoop Your Poop
Wild campers, (PLEASE) scoop your poop or dig a hole
we don’t want your faeces on our soles
nor your toilet paper strewn far and wide
PLEASE, I beg, respect our countryside.
Your pitch is priceless but we like to share
just leave no trace of your existence there.
And why take six parking lots when two would do?
Others also want to enjoy the view.
Last month, I visited England for a wedding. I was there less than a week.
Because of the nature in which I left England 4 years ago, I wasn’t sure what feelings would come up for me. England was my 2nd home. I’d begun building some semblance of a life there – building my career, traveling, visiting my 1st home at least twice yearly, trying to obtain dual citizenship, possibly venturing into the world of (British) dating, slowly growing friendships, etc. – when it was snatched from under me faster than the time it took for me to move there in the first place.
I was left reeling. That shit hurt. It hurt so bad. I had dreams, plans, wishes… and on August 8, 2013, everything fell apart. I cried almost daily. My landlord became a scumbag soon after. Support from work? Yeah… right. On the day I moved out of my flat (I think it was October 2 or 3, 2013), I sobbed the whole time. I left England for good 3 weeks later – October 22, 2013.
To this day, I can’t forget it. And oftentimes, since I left there, the months of August through October are sometimes hard for me because I remember the sequence of events that happened once I got the Home Office letter stating that I was an over-stayer. Time kinda froze.
So with that in mind as I flew to England for the wedding, I expected my emotions to be on the negative side. I got some advice before leaving to go there, from a few people in my small circle, to go with no expectations and cross bridges whenever I got to them. So I tried to do that. And to my surprise, I succeeded.
I had a very nice time.
I recently had medical issues and probably shouldn’t have traveled when I did; therefore, I couldn’t see everyone who wanted to see me, nor could I get around how I wished. But all in all, I truly enjoyed myself. I actually thought about moving back there again… almost. Hell, I won’t even lie… I’m still thinking about it on & off…
Anyway, while there I stocked up on cheese, tea and crumpets.
Although I couldn’t see everyone, I saw a few people whom I was meant to see. I won’t show their faces, but I’ll show some of what we ate. 😐
I had proper henna done for the first time ever, as part of the wedding.
I visited my old neighborhood, twice. The first time, I took a friend there who – believe it or not – just moved to England 2 months ago and wanted to explore a different neighborhood and borough. I took her to the local market I used to frequent.
And the second time was to visit my old flat. My downstairs neighbors still live there – as a matter-of-fact, they took over my old flat and the home is now fully theirs. After my departure, they didn’t want to risk any troublesome tenants moving in, so they took it for themselves. That humbled me then, and still humbles me now. Anyway, approaching my old door – as well as the street and neighborhood – was emotional.
(That’s a new door, by the way. It used to be a red door.)
I ate and conversed with them for a couple hours. Afterwards, I visited my old self-defense class and instructor. I couldn’t participate, but I enjoyed living vicariously through the students. Side note – only 1 of the original students from my class is still there.
And of course, I attended the wedding. I won’t show faces, but it was a nice one.
I appreciate the family inviting me. They’re like a 2nd family to me; I’ve discussed them here once or twice before.
Looking back, the visit was better than I expected. I saw a few loved ones, nervously returned to my old neighborhood, got my hair done, and brought home some very-missed British cheese, tea and crumpets. I couldn’t handle all of the business I wanted, but the major stuff was done and brought back. I’ll handle the other business (hopefully) next year.
I planned to never return to England again because although most of the time there was alright, the ending was horrible. But now, I’m glad I went, and I plan to return again. To visit or to live? That remains to be seen.
(P.S. By the time you read this, it’ll be 4 years since I left England. I scheduled this post like that on purpose.)
Political bent (toward the end of the opinion piece) aside, I can relate to at least half of this. Take a look, then feel free to comment.
Exactly 3 years ago today, I got on a plane from the United Kingdom to return to the United States for good.
Even after 3 years, my feelings are mixed.
On one hand, I think of the missed opportunities. I likely would’ve obtained dual citizenship – a top goal of mine before moving there – and my United Kingdom driver’s license (I got the provisional, which lasts 10 years). I would’ve had more earnings potential, working wherever I pleased as someone with years of experience. I think of all the countries I didn’t get to visit while there, and how many I could’ve visited if I was still there now. I think of the slowly growing group of acquaintances & friends I was making, which is difficult enough as an introvert, and the other connections I could’ve made.
I think of my disrupted routine. My disrupted plans. My disrupted LIFE. Lost wages. Shady job. Shady authority. Shady bosses. Shady colleagues. No help whatsoever from the local authority for which I worked. Reporting to the Home Office like a f***ing criminal, and the employees there wondering what the hell I was doing there, feeling bad for me, because it was obvious that this wasn’t something purposely done. The absolute hell I had to navigate, both over there and over here (but especially over there). Shady relatives. Shady friends. And I become enraged all over again.
Then on the other hand, I look at life for the past 3 years, and I’m glad that I’m home. (Look at “Brexit”, as an example.)
I’ve not been back yet, but I’ll be back soon enough. I have a wedding to attend there. I also still have unfinished business to handle, and some involved will NOT be happy when I’m done. But at least the unfinished business will finally be finished for good.
Will I ever live abroad again? I don’t know. My inclination is “HELL no.” But who knows. I can say 1 thing though – I’ll never stop exploring the world.
Submitted with mixed feelings,
More vicarious travelling for 2016 – worldwide street art with some female artists featured, which is nice to see in a world usually dominated by males. Enjoy.
Last year I had big plans to finally blog regularly and they fell through as always. Life as it does got in the way but mainly the second half of 2015 was marred by seasonal depression, visa issues and a real hatred for my new job.
Most of those things have now thankfully resolved thmeselves or are on the way. I’ve also been taking vitamin D consistently for the past month – only after years of my doctor saying I should because I am deficient.
I am finally feeling myself again, motivated and wanting to share about my goings on in London. However, I know how easy it is for me to ditch the blog. A time will come again where my mood will dip and I will retreat from it and I’ve come to terms with that and allowed myself to feel okay if there are long breaks in…
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In spite of my love/hate relationship with the place because of the experiences before my departure, this is, and will always be, my 2nd home. So in continuing with my theme of living vicariously through others’ travels this year, here’s a post about a small section of my 2nd home. Enjoy.
Start: Barbican Tube Station
This past Sunday was the first time in ages where I went on one of my rambling exploring days out. Yes it’s been winter, and cold and grey but I usually manage to get around during the season. Not the case this winter where I mostly stayed inside.
It feels good to finally feel the sun on my face and not only get out and about but want to get out and about. The prospect of using my new lens was also an incentive to haul my very heavy D-SLR out with me.
With flowers budding all over the place, longer days and even a few days where I wore sunnies (!) none of us can deny that Spring is knocking on the door. I’m finally getting into using my twitter account more and seeing the point of it all (@wanderlust _wtb) over the past…
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This post is from a friend of mine. Excellent information about emergencies abroad and travel insurance. Pay attention.
If you follow the journey of 4 Deep Around the World, you know I’m a huge advocate of international travel. I constantly promote taking advantage of every opportunity to see the world. World travel is the new “it” thing that’s taking the world by storm. This is evident by a simple peruse of the multitude of travel related Facebook groups and travel deal websites that have developed in recent years.
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