When I got the placement in Geneva it really felt like I was being pushed out of the country. I applied 'cause it seemed like too good an opportunity to miss out on but I was comfortable in my existence, miserable though it was, and didn't actually want to go. Every stage of interview I went through I said "Yes" but only because I could not, reasonably, say “No”. I said to my mum back then that if I got offered the post I would probably do the same thing but I still spent my whole time making excuses for why it was not a good idea (they were crap by the way). As I made the phone call to refuse the offer, I remember the rainbow that I wrote about 2 posts ago and confirmed.
And so, in a moment, my life was changed.
When I went to La Suisse I took with me a lot of baggage (literally and figuratively speaking). There was a lot of unpacking that needed doing - it turned out that (metaphorically) I had gone and destroyed my heart completely and needed a transplant. At the time it was remarkable how I managed to let go so much of the past and just enjoy life again. With England in the background everything of before seemed a long way away and not at all important. With my new heart I was healed!
Yet there is a time to mourn and a time to dance. England is no longer a fuzzy memory but a very real and tangible place in which I reside. Amidst all the excitement about God giving to me everywhere that I put my foot I am realising that, though the battle is won, there are a lot of skeletons to bury.
It feels like, post-op and post-fabulous feeling of being made whole, the numbness is wearing off and with that I am aware of the tenderness around the incision.
Now, don't worry, I am not writing this in floods of tears. The main initial pain was incredibly avoided with the anaesthesia that is God's love. The new heart has been in place sufficiently long that rejection is unlikely and I still have a large number of carers to check I am stable and keep the wounds clean: Ana last night fed me the most sophisticated TV dinner known to man – stuffed trout with steamed veg, then totally let me vent to her; tonight I am off to house group with my sister and btw the leaders are North American which makes me feel strangely at home!
All of which is great 'cause while it heals I am at a higher risk of infection. For this reason I must be particularly vigilant with aftercare and staying away from major causes of disease till I am strong enough to “be a doctor” myself.
I just have to remember that the pain is part of the joy; acknowledging the past is part of the release from it. It needs to happen which is why I must neither avoid nor fear it. If I stayed in the Geneva mindset it would be akin to drug abuse, keeping anaesthetised long after appropriate and just running away. I know enough people that don’t face up to the emotional fall out of catastrophe to realise that this is the only way ahead. I don’t want to end up smacked off my head on pain killers – figuratively or not. Sometimes you just have to feel it.
But, and it is more of a huge J-Lo sized BUT, there is a huge difference with the inclusion of a new heart. My health is so much better that, while the tenderness is there, I am able to deal with the strain. Obviously it is the God aspect of that which makes a difference. I am fitter than ever before and it is sure not by my own strength.
I totally didn't realise (perhaps naïvely) that I still need to do this but I am content that it is all part of the process and that, one day, the scars will not hurt.
And so, over time, my life will yet again change.
[I didn’t write the rainbow post thinking I would write this a few days later by the way; it just seems to have fitted together as certain things have happened. Not surprising, God is cool like that.]
Showing posts with label Anastasia. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Anastasia. Show all posts
Thursday, September 11, 2008
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
New Chapter, New Verse
1st of September was my first day back in Bristol. I moved here with my car jam packed, safe journey = total blessing, and I was slowly realising that this is it. The beginning of life in Bristol. Exactly a year on since when got to Geneva and was thinking 'maybe, just maybe, life will change from this' and now I am seeing the very real and definite truth of that.
10 days before I moved to La Suisse I became the "lucky" and proud owner of a very small, very cute lady-flat in Brizzle. Totally right for me, an absolutely blessing and I am looking forward to living in it and making my first home there. Perfect single Christian girl flat :-) When I lived there for a brief period last year I was like 'It's my new home!' and got really excited even though I knew it was only for ten days. That as it happens turned out to be a really amazing time in which I became best mates with Ana and was totally blessed by that friendship (yes my dear, I do consider you to be a gift from God!). It was also the period (and place) in which she met her man Dan with whom she is now old and boring with...!
So yesterday I came back one year on and it was one of those "waiting pays off" moments. When you realise really clearly that the concept of everything having a time and a place and whatnot is true and that letting things live out like that is the best thing. But with all the patience I had got the hang of, I clean forgot to get excited about the fact that this time IT IS IT!! I get to move in and make a home and put up whatever I like on the walls and not worry about keeping it sparse 'cause I am leaving at the end of the year. I am still only starting to realise it is for now and the waiting is over... and is was SO worth it.
And, like I had a 10 day taster of the flat, I also had a 10 day taster of Ana. Now I get her all the time! She was the first visitor I had and her and Dan helped me totally unload my car then dragged me off to their fantastic seaview pad in Portishead, ran me a bath, cooked me dinner and insulted me! Got to love having friends like that... It was such a perfect first day back and I was overwhelmed with the truth of the fact that life here is GREAT.
And so perspective changes again. I knew Bristol was going to be good but in Geneva it kinda took a backward step, blurry as it were with Switzerland in the foreground. Now they have changed places and, just as I loved Ana from afar but didn't get to eat her Thai, the same will be for GVA. Robyn's late-night-fruity-salad; Caro's not-as-green-as-I-expected-(but still very good!)-guacamole... Brian's mega-beast-of-an-omelette! Not to mention all the other wonderful people and things and food and places that I love and miss. But the good news is that I can get maple syrup here (thanks mum!) and I can use Skype, so really it don't matter too much. The blurry background is still very much a part of my bigger picture.
I'll leave you on some funnies and praises:
-When I was driving here I was like "God, I know you answer prayer and if you don't its 'cause you have a good reason for it and a better plan but really, I don't see what you would not want me to have a parking space right by my flat" - there it was directly opposite when I arrived. Allelujah!
-When I was talking to Dan and said it feels like a new chapter he asked me if nowadays I lived my life by chapter and verse... He also air kissed me goodbye this morning and said "I won't kiss you 'cause that's like 3rd base for you people". Christian jokes, got to love 'em! On a serious note I am really glad that we can keep our close friendship despite the changes. I know Ana was worried I'd be boring but I have proved to her that in fact she is more so - being all settled and loved up and all!
-As we walked along the harbour this morning (beautiful btw, I will get some piccies up) a local man asked us - in a really fabulous SW accent - whether the swan with it's leg out was OK or if he should call the RSPB. Then Dan was like 'no that swan is always like that, he has a dodgy leg but he's alright'. Love that there are locals that care and more so that there is a local swan. This place is cool.
So. Being back in the home town feels pretty good. Gert good in fact. As Annie, fellow ginger given a new start in life, would say:
I think I'm going to like it here.
Labels:
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Caro,
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Robyn
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
To Russia, With Love
I have spent a lot of time going on about how fabulous my brand spank new life is. Possibly to a sickening degree. Today I want to make it clear that exciting as life here is (and believe me today was pretty special - someone at music practise asked for some of my water and it turns out they were testing what I was drinking! That's how excited I was...) I do have a dual identity and back in Bristol, UK where I make my home I am eagerly awaiting the completion of my degree and an exciting future built around the ragamuffin youth of today (or cruise ship singing). Not only that but I am not altogether going to give some aspects of pre-Geneva and they need to be acknowledged.
I say this for two reasons. 1) I arranged my return flight today (24th August for anyone who cares) and have been doing the necessary planning for moving and scheduling and whatnot which got me all nostalgic; and 2) I just spoke to Ana and she has not gotten enough air time recently...!
Anastasia is my best cold hearted Russian friend. We've known each other since 2004 but only became close mates 10 days before I left last August. Strange that - we lived round the corner from each other briefly and had nothing better to do! The first weeks and months of life here were made so much easier with her on skype. I remember fondly the good old days of Friday nights in with a bottle of wine - at either end! As things picked up pace for both of us we became more independent but she helped me loads through the initial period and I was so lucky to have her - I like to think it was all part of 'the plan' and I don't think she'll mind being called a Gift from God!
We wanted to live together, get a puppy together (called Roger) and grow old together when men failed us. Sadly, she went and fell in love (with one of my friends no less) and is now living with him, getting a puppy with him and growing old together with, wait for it, him! Dan, you are a lovely but seriously mate, do you know what you are letting yourself in for? This is the mean Bond Villain Nazi that believes in survival of the fittest for all human beings and scared me into writing her a tribute in my blog!
I have missed you my Russian Princess :-)
Heaps of blessings to you both as you move into your first proper home together next week... :-O (mental) x x x
Back in the day:
I say this for two reasons. 1) I arranged my return flight today (24th August for anyone who cares) and have been doing the necessary planning for moving and scheduling and whatnot which got me all nostalgic; and 2) I just spoke to Ana and she has not gotten enough air time recently...!
Anastasia is my best cold hearted Russian friend. We've known each other since 2004 but only became close mates 10 days before I left last August. Strange that - we lived round the corner from each other briefly and had nothing better to do! The first weeks and months of life here were made so much easier with her on skype. I remember fondly the good old days of Friday nights in with a bottle of wine - at either end! As things picked up pace for both of us we became more independent but she helped me loads through the initial period and I was so lucky to have her - I like to think it was all part of 'the plan' and I don't think she'll mind being called a Gift from God!
We wanted to live together, get a puppy together (called Roger) and grow old together when men failed us. Sadly, she went and fell in love (with one of my friends no less) and is now living with him, getting a puppy with him and growing old together with, wait for it, him! Dan, you are a lovely but seriously mate, do you know what you are letting yourself in for? This is the mean Bond Villain Nazi that believes in survival of the fittest for all human beings and scared me into writing her a tribute in my blog!
I have missed you my Russian Princess :-)
Heaps of blessings to you both as you move into your first proper home together next week... :-O (mental) x x x
Back in the day:
Wednesday, June 4, 2008
Bon Voyage
Is there anything sadder than wishing myself a good trip?!
Anyway, I have a ridiculous amount of things to get done before I head off this afternoon into the blue but I am feeling enough (false) confidence in the 5 hours I have ahead of me to write a quick post.
Yet again so much to say, so little time. Hmmmm, why not give you a bit of an itinerary...:
-Today I head off to Bristol and am excited to be seeing my darling sister and her hubby this eve :-D
-Tomorrow the morning will be spent with Ana there - woohoo! Then I am off to meet the Swiss guys in Dublin! (Crazy how small the world has become, is it not, that my two lives can run so fluidly together across 3 different landmasses.)
-So, I will be in Dublin till Sunday night. Apparently there is not that much to do there but with the Guinness factory nearby and lots of Irish people I am sure we will easily make our own entertainment.
-Then from Sunday evening this is where the real excitement begins, as I head off to Budapest on my own; to goodness knows what with no hostel booking, no idea of Hungarian stuff and not much time to discover such things since I am then voyaging back to Geneva via...
-Vienna! I haven't got a ticket to get there but I have a ticket out next Thursday so I must make sure I make the transition at some point around Monday night/Tuesday morning. I am fortuitous (must watch that language) enough to have somewhere to rest my head, courtesy of the boy we used to do lift shares with at school. Random or what? Nice to have someone able to give me a bit of a low down on Viennese life so that will be fun, as long as I work out how to buy the ticket (Hungarian anyone?).
-Then, since I return to GVA via Zurich, I thought I'd stop off there for the night and check out what all the fuss is about. Some say it's great, some say it's sleazy; I wonder if they just appreciate different things in life?
-Friday is my set day for return. I will be beat and smelly and who knows what colour my hair will have gone (damn it I didn't write the insightful post about my recent trip to the salon, that will have to wait now...).
Part of me wants to blog-it while I'm gone and the other part knows how sad that is. I suppose it will mostly depend on my connectability to cyberspace but if I get the chance I will probably take it. So watch this space for Irish jokes, Austrian anecdotes and Hungarian folklore. If you don't hear from me at all don't worry (mum) I will just be having too much fun... [Resisting urge to make comment about potentially being stuck in a basement somewhere.]
Will leave you with something vaguely interesting so if you got this far it doesn't seem like a waste of your life:
You know how rabbits eat their own poo 'cause there are nutrients in it that they missed the first time? Well, did you also know that if they are pregnant and are in conditions (like ill health, little food etc) which are not conducive to a successful litter, they can reabsorb the foetuses into their system? I think that maybe we over look bunnies, they have a lot of crazy stuff going on inside that fluffy innocent exterior...
Don't forget to miss me!
Anyway, I have a ridiculous amount of things to get done before I head off this afternoon into the blue but I am feeling enough (false) confidence in the 5 hours I have ahead of me to write a quick post.
Yet again so much to say, so little time. Hmmmm, why not give you a bit of an itinerary...:
-Today I head off to Bristol and am excited to be seeing my darling sister and her hubby this eve :-D
-Tomorrow the morning will be spent with Ana there - woohoo! Then I am off to meet the Swiss guys in Dublin! (Crazy how small the world has become, is it not, that my two lives can run so fluidly together across 3 different landmasses.)
-So, I will be in Dublin till Sunday night. Apparently there is not that much to do there but with the Guinness factory nearby and lots of Irish people I am sure we will easily make our own entertainment.
-Then from Sunday evening this is where the real excitement begins, as I head off to Budapest on my own; to goodness knows what with no hostel booking, no idea of Hungarian stuff and not much time to discover such things since I am then voyaging back to Geneva via...
-Vienna! I haven't got a ticket to get there but I have a ticket out next Thursday so I must make sure I make the transition at some point around Monday night/Tuesday morning. I am fortuitous (must watch that language) enough to have somewhere to rest my head, courtesy of the boy we used to do lift shares with at school. Random or what? Nice to have someone able to give me a bit of a low down on Viennese life so that will be fun, as long as I work out how to buy the ticket (Hungarian anyone?).
-Then, since I return to GVA via Zurich, I thought I'd stop off there for the night and check out what all the fuss is about. Some say it's great, some say it's sleazy; I wonder if they just appreciate different things in life?
-Friday is my set day for return. I will be beat and smelly and who knows what colour my hair will have gone (damn it I didn't write the insightful post about my recent trip to the salon, that will have to wait now...).
Part of me wants to blog-it while I'm gone and the other part knows how sad that is. I suppose it will mostly depend on my connectability to cyberspace but if I get the chance I will probably take it. So watch this space for Irish jokes, Austrian anecdotes and Hungarian folklore. If you don't hear from me at all don't worry (mum) I will just be having too much fun... [Resisting urge to make comment about potentially being stuck in a basement somewhere.]
Will leave you with something vaguely interesting so if you got this far it doesn't seem like a waste of your life:
You know how rabbits eat their own poo 'cause there are nutrients in it that they missed the first time? Well, did you also know that if they are pregnant and are in conditions (like ill health, little food etc) which are not conducive to a successful litter, they can reabsorb the foetuses into their system? I think that maybe we over look bunnies, they have a lot of crazy stuff going on inside that fluffy innocent exterior...
Don't forget to miss me!
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Clichès and close calls
There is nothing quite like success in a sporting event to ram home a sense of patriotism, all the more enhanced by a) Pickwicks, the biggest ex-pat haunt in Geneva and b) Scottish rugby watching "buddies". When England jammied their way into the finals of the Rugby World Cup last October, it was clear to me that I was meant to be at that game. Mainly cause it coincided with my one weekend off and I had already made plans to visit Paris anyway.
So Anastasia the legend got a shirt in the post to me, I packed my rucksack and grabbed a blanket in the full expectation that I would find nowhere to sleep that weekend. (I later discovered it was a very lux 100% cashmere throw that came with my appartement and probably would not have suited living on a bench for the duration.) As it is I was fortunate and found a space in a hostel about 10 minutes after stepping off the train (at Gare de Lyon) into the fray and realising I had possibly been a little too laid back. I may venture to say God was looking after me, but luck will suffice for the cynical.
Anyway, the whole weekend was totally fabulous; full of revelation and beauty, purchases of random second hand clothes at Marché aux Puces for 50 Euro centimes each and lots of bread, cheese, walking, walking and walking. Needless to say, I love Paris in the fall.
But what about the main event as it were? Well, it turns out being a lone blonde female in Paris at the best of times can aid making friends (not an observation of fortitude I may note) but during the England/SA rugby world cup final the atmosphere is so charged and fabulous that donning anything white and red and hanging out near the crowds (note that you are better off in crowds that aren't wearing predominantly green and yellow) is a sure bet to not be alone for very long - not always a issue but you want to have someone to alternate cheering, shouting and crying with. I had already decided that I would be watching the game at the big screen by the Eiffel Tower and so headed in this direction a few hours before. After ditching the Frenchies I went with (well meaning people but not really clued in with the fact that I was no longer in caring-about-their-culture mode) I found myself in a bar clutching a 2-pint tankard of beer and for a moment feeling the same sensation as when I stepped off that train the day before. Panic not, within mere moments the very fact that I had made the journey on my own to be there at this historic moment (which by the way I would recommend everyone do, it is a safe bet way to plan a holiday that will not be forgotten) had impressed a group of young English lads and one Saffa. A bit of banter about the fact that they had kidnapped this guy later and I was invited to sit down (mainly to get out of the way of the door). I had made some friends and boy were these good friends to make. Superficially and the biggest cliché of it all is that I had happened upon a group of young dashing trainee airforce pilots who were all too willing to take me under their wing(!). More usefully however, they invited me to watch the game with them and the rest of their colleagues who had secure a spot on the Champ de Mars (area in front of the tower where screen was erected) not 3 foot from the front along with a well stocked supply of beer, water and Maryland cookies (which were my salvation halfway through the match when I realised I had not had lunch or dinner excepting the aforementioned 2-pinter). There were even some really cool girls there too which was great for toilet camaraderie, not feeling like a common English trollop and also, seeing as my camera battery had died, proved a fabulous resource for photographic evidence to be retrieved at a later date via the dreaded facebook...
But yet, though the picture is sweet, it is joyful and it's also a true example of provision(!), what was it that made it so momentous? Well, it's a little something known as "Top-Gunning". I tell you, watching the thousands from the shoulders of a burly pilot is one thing but this is sommat else... Joining in with the banter of the crowds, singing a little JC and a few 'negro spirituals' (thanks Mr Powell) was a lot of fun, but then a new song was added to the repertoire which soon left me confused and a bit red in the face as the realisation dawned on me. 'We've Lost That Loving Feeling', classic tune and movie scene, but when you get the distinct impression that the boys around you are singing not alongside but toward you it gets a little disconcerting. A sideways glance at Hannah (really cool chick) and she was encouraging me in my assumptions. Suspicions were confirmed at the line "baby baby, I get down on my knees" and these 20-odd servants of her Majesty were all on the floor serenading me in unison, with their own unique harmonies going on and a firm beat being tapped out (on my bottom). I was not being self absorbed - they were singing to me! (Hannah later informed me that this is a long standing rugby crowd tradition). It did not end there however; as one of the guys gestured for me to to turn around and I look behind me at the crowds, I see the neighbouring folk - I kid you not environ 200 of them - in an alcohol fueled moment of worship: with me on the pedestal.
So yes Richard, Paris, Eiffel Tower, Rugby World Cup and pilots serenading me: it does seem a little far fetched. But hey, someone has to do it...
As for the close calls. End of the game aside there was falling in a river whilst looking for somewhere to pee (no I was not 'in Seine'), French riot police at the end of the night and the obvious stupidity of heading off to Paris with no clue as to anything, poor French skills and a whole lot of drunken English sports fans. Would I do it again? New Zealand 2011 anyone...?
So Anastasia the legend got a shirt in the post to me, I packed my rucksack and grabbed a blanket in the full expectation that I would find nowhere to sleep that weekend. (I later discovered it was a very lux 100% cashmere throw that came with my appartement and probably would not have suited living on a bench for the duration.) As it is I was fortunate and found a space in a hostel about 10 minutes after stepping off the train (at Gare de Lyon) into the fray and realising I had possibly been a little too laid back. I may venture to say God was looking after me, but luck will suffice for the cynical.
Anyway, the whole weekend was totally fabulous; full of revelation and beauty, purchases of random second hand clothes at Marché aux Puces for 50 Euro centimes each and lots of bread, cheese, walking, walking and walking. Needless to say, I love Paris in the fall.
But what about the main event as it were? Well, it turns out being a lone blonde female in Paris at the best of times can aid making friends (not an observation of fortitude I may note) but during the England/SA rugby world cup final the atmosphere is so charged and fabulous that donning anything white and red and hanging out near the crowds (note that you are better off in crowds that aren't wearing predominantly green and yellow) is a sure bet to not be alone for very long - not always a issue but you want to have someone to alternate cheering, shouting and crying with. I had already decided that I would be watching the game at the big screen by the Eiffel Tower and so headed in this direction a few hours before. After ditching the Frenchies I went with (well meaning people but not really clued in with the fact that I was no longer in caring-about-their-culture mode) I found myself in a bar clutching a 2-pint tankard of beer and for a moment feeling the same sensation as when I stepped off that train the day before. Panic not, within mere moments the very fact that I had made the journey on my own to be there at this historic moment (which by the way I would recommend everyone do, it is a safe bet way to plan a holiday that will not be forgotten) had impressed a group of young English lads and one Saffa. A bit of banter about the fact that they had kidnapped this guy later and I was invited to sit down (mainly to get out of the way of the door). I had made some friends and boy were these good friends to make. Superficially and the biggest cliché of it all is that I had happened upon a group of young dashing trainee airforce pilots who were all too willing to take me under their wing(!). More usefully however, they invited me to watch the game with them and the rest of their colleagues who had secure a spot on the Champ de Mars (area in front of the tower where screen was erected) not 3 foot from the front along with a well stocked supply of beer, water and Maryland cookies (which were my salvation halfway through the match when I realised I had not had lunch or dinner excepting the aforementioned 2-pinter). There were even some really cool girls there too which was great for toilet camaraderie, not feeling like a common English trollop and also, seeing as my camera battery had died, proved a fabulous resource for photographic evidence to be retrieved at a later date via the dreaded facebook...
But yet, though the picture is sweet, it is joyful and it's also a true example of provision(!), what was it that made it so momentous? Well, it's a little something known as "Top-Gunning". I tell you, watching the thousands from the shoulders of a burly pilot is one thing but this is sommat else... Joining in with the banter of the crowds, singing a little JC and a few 'negro spirituals' (thanks Mr Powell) was a lot of fun, but then a new song was added to the repertoire which soon left me confused and a bit red in the face as the realisation dawned on me. 'We've Lost That Loving Feeling', classic tune and movie scene, but when you get the distinct impression that the boys around you are singing not alongside but toward you it gets a little disconcerting. A sideways glance at Hannah (really cool chick) and she was encouraging me in my assumptions. Suspicions were confirmed at the line "baby baby, I get down on my knees" and these 20-odd servants of her Majesty were all on the floor serenading me in unison, with their own unique harmonies going on and a firm beat being tapped out (on my bottom). I was not being self absorbed - they were singing to me! (Hannah later informed me that this is a long standing rugby crowd tradition). It did not end there however; as one of the guys gestured for me to to turn around and I look behind me at the crowds, I see the neighbouring folk - I kid you not environ 200 of them - in an alcohol fueled moment of worship: with me on the pedestal.
So yes Richard, Paris, Eiffel Tower, Rugby World Cup and pilots serenading me: it does seem a little far fetched. But hey, someone has to do it...
As for the close calls. End of the game aside there was falling in a river whilst looking for somewhere to pee (no I was not 'in Seine'), French riot police at the end of the night and the obvious stupidity of heading off to Paris with no clue as to anything, poor French skills and a whole lot of drunken English sports fans. Would I do it again? New Zealand 2011 anyone...?
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