It's the Little Things

I’m sitting in Starbucks, something I have been doing far too much lately, especially seeing as I have never been a massive fan of the place, and I can’t decide what to write about. It’s not that I don’t have anything to write about, I have only been in Hamburg a week and already bought far too many clothes, seen the miniature wonderland, Hamburg Dungeon, been up St. Michaelis Church and seen all of Hamburg from above, spent a day at school, walked around Hamburg City and explored the nearby Rader Forest. But, I just don’t feel like writing about any of them. Again I want to clarify, it’s not that all of those were not absolutely amazing, I loved them all and have hundreds of photos to prove it, but for some reason I can’t seem to know how to write any of them down.

As I said, I have been in Hamburg just over one week, the longest I have spent in one place since I left home. Not constantly moving around has made me notice all the small things, the obvious things that somehow everyone seems to miss. So perhaps that is what I will write about, the little differences about this country that you would never usually think about.

First of all, and most obviously, is the language. It turns out they all speak German here, in Germany. Yes, I realise how ridiculous that sounds, but having only been to English speaking countries for the past 10+ years, it does actually come as a surprise. In fact one of the first things I said was, “Wow, everyone speaks German!” I got a pretty weird look and an, “Aaah, yeah?” from Antonia. I am sure you are all thinking the same thing, so let me explain. I am used to everything being in English. Talking English, signs in English, radio in English, adverts in English. So while I was more prepared for people talking German, I failed to think of the fact that EVERYTHING would be in German, and it wouldn’t have an English translation. The smallest things that you would not even think about in day-to-day life become a problem. I wanted to go to the toilet, but the doors did not have pictures, only writing leaving me staring at them like a goon, not wanting to just choose one and startle a poor German man using a urinal. The muffin I just bought to accompany my tea had a German written sign. I had no idea what it was, but it looked relatively healthy, brown in colour with nuts. I was only later to discover when taking my first bite that it was filled with gooey chocolate. Not that I am complaining, it was delicious, but not quite the healthy muffin I had had in mind.

Despite all this, I must say I have been quite good at faking it. If I go to buy something at a supermarket I say “Hallo!” and shove my groceries on the bench thingy. Having previously calculated the total price in my head I pull out the right money and pass it over before the cashier can say anything. Then once the items are purchased, if the cashier asks anything I say “nein danke!” This is from an assumption that they are asking if I want a bag or my receipt, neither of which I usually use. And then I smile and say, “tschüss!” and leave. And I am happy to say that this method has not yet failed me!

Now, speaking of food. That’s another, amazing thing that I have noticed. It’s all so good! Walking through the mall, you are guaranteed to walk past at least two bakeries filled with more breads then I knew existed. Neighbouring them are pastries and cakes that all have the same mouth-watering effects. Unfortunately, bread falls into the carb category, and eating it and it’s fellow delicious carby friends has led to my jeans feeling slightly more tight then when I left New Zealand. In fact due to the effects of too much bread that led to me discover the above mentioned Rade Forest where I have been biking or running every day, and what a beautiful place to do so! But that is another blog post that I do not yet feel like writing!

 

Another food item I bought without knowing what the sign said. Turns out it was just bread, but delicious all the same!

 

Back to the food! Now it’s not only bread, but deli’s filled with amazing looking meats and cheeses of all shapes, sizes and colours! I was never a massive fan of cheese and bread, I always thought it was plain and boring, but with the bread from a good baker and the delicious cheeses it has become quite a regular on my plate, even sometimes for breakfast.

Along with the food in general being far better here (except for vegetables, I miss fresh, delicious vegetables more than I thought possible!) the fashion here is better and also quite different. But also the same. Here I go making no sense again! Let me explain; in general, people dress extremely well. I’m not saying they walk around in cocktail dresses, heels, suits and ties, but when they wear jeans and a top it’s not just jeans and a top. It will be smart looking jeans, with a shirt or a top with a small detail making it stand out. This will be under a nice cardigan or jacket/blazer. When I used to walk through Tauranga I would sometimes stop and notice if somebody was dressed in particularly nice (casual) clothes rather than trackies and a singlet. And here, everyone seems to be the former of the two, always dressed nicely, smartly. I am not pretending to be a fashion guru, but have always loved to wear nice clothes. Finally here in Germany (well Europe really) I feel that I can make an effort without someone asking if I am going somewhere, or why I am dressed up. But on that note, it does not seem to be fashion suicide to snean here (sneakers and jeans that is). I noticed it was also a common occurrence in London. I don’t know if it’s just a New Zealand thing, but that was always a big no-no, but now even I am guilty of doing so! And to be honest I think I get it. When you are in a big city, you need to walk a lot to get from place to place, even walking through a mall can be quite a distance. After a day in Hamburg (and multiple days in London) without sneakers I managed to get a frightful number of blisters, on ankles and in between toes, all of which have stopped since wearing sneakers. So maybe there I a real logic to it. Therefore, I have decided that as long as you have nice sneakers (which I am proud to say I do, a beautiful pair I bought in my first few days in Hamburg) then I say save your feet and snean away!

Evidence of me sneaning..

 Just a little footnote - I apologise for lack of photos above, but I don't quite yet have the confidence to start taking photos of nicely dressed people or the bread in a bakery. And taking photos of toilet doors - well that just seemed a bit odd. However, below are some other photos I have taken during my time in Hamburg!

 

 

 

View of Strand Perle

 

Hamburg Town Hall

 

View of Binnenalter

 

Alterboat on a Canal

 

St. Michaelis Church

 

 View of Hamburg from St. Michaelis Church

 

The Miniature Wonderland

 

The Miniature Wonderland

 

Biking in the Forest

 

My new sneakers ( I LOVE THEM! )

 

The Amazingly Beautiful Forest

 

The Amazingly Beautiful Forest

 

The Amazingly Beautiful Forest

 

 My Home in Hamburg!

Love at First Sight

 

London, London, London. I could write a novel, no, a series of novels about how much I love the place. Even though I was only there for 3 days I managed to see so much, which only made me realise how much more I was missing. Though I made it to Big Ben, Piccadilly Circus, Buckingham Palace, Covent Garden, I didn’t have time for the Camden Markets, Museums or London Bridge. If there is one thing I am certain of in my future travels, it is that I will go back to London.

I always knew my third blog would be about London, but I thought it would be a quick summary of it all. Now I realise my ignorance, and that quick summary and London should never be put in the same sentence, so I will only be able to touch on my amazing experiences of a beautiful city.

 

 Streets in London 

Many Christmases ago my sisters and I were given charm bracelets from our parents and were instructed to fill them with memories. Up until a month ago mine still had only 4 charms, collected over those many years. So since deciding to travel I had been incredibly excited to collect one charm from every country I went to starting with England. On my first day in London I headed off to Covent Garden in search of a jewellery shop and a charm. Little did I know it would be 5 hours before I would eventually find one! As much as I would love to talk about how beautiful Covent Gardens is, or how I could not believe how many people there were on Oxford Street, where I am actually going with this is the amazing place I got lost in on my way to find a charm. While trying to find the House of Fraser, I stumbled upon Bond Street. Now on the English Monopoly board we have at home, Bond Street is 4^th most expensive street to buy. And now I understand why! Walking further and further down the street, the shops became more and more beautiful, and expensive! I past jewellery shop after jewellery shop, every time too scared to actually go inside. The window displays showcased necklaces dripping with diamonds and other expensive gems, next to which beautiful gold and silver rings lay propped up on mini silk cushions. They were the kind of jewellery shops where there was no need to have a price tags, because if you were the type of person to shop there, price didn’t matter. I had always thought there was only poor, normal, and rich. Now I realise there is poor, normal, rich, and price-tag-not-necessary. By this time I realised there was no way I would be entering any of these shops, and even if I did, I couldn’t dream to afford even a charm. However, the magic and wonder of this street had me captured and I couldn’t help but to keep walking and keep looking. After the jewellery shops came the clothes shops. Ralph Daniels, Dior, Chanel and other designer brands I had never heard of. Each of these shops had beautiful double doors, each with its own doorman decked up in proper uniform, hat, gloves and all. The windows into these shops were purely to show window displays as behind the displays were walls blocking the actual shop from view. But the window displays were enough. Beautiful clothes were carefully matched and dressed on manikins who had been made to look as though they were dancing, or laying gracefully, soaked in wealth. Other displays were incredibly creative with entire stories in the space of one square meter. One that particularly caught my eye was an entire night ocean scene. Mice and men were sailing over rough waters in shoes, and atop a cliff stood beautiful leather gloves. I had never seen such an amazing window display in my life! Finally I reached the end of Bond Street, and I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face. Though I could and probably will never be able to afford to shop there, something about the place made me feel incredibly happy and peaceful. Similar, I could imagine to how Holly Golightly felt about going into Tiffany’s when she had the mean reds; “the only thing that does any good is to jump in a cab and go to Tiffany’s. Calms me down right away. The quietness and the proud look of it. Nothing very bad could happen to you there.”

 

 

 

 

Window Displays on Bond Street

 

 

 

England/London Themed Charm (I eventually found!)

 

However, as much as I love London, and it would be my dream to live there at some point in my life there were a number of things that made me realise just how beautiful, and clean New Zealand is. On my second day in London, which was filled with the London Eye, Big Ben, Neal’s Yard, lots of walking and hundreds of people, I began to notice the things that were in stark contrast to New Zealand. Looking at all the typical London landmarks in real life was incredible. Looking back on my photos now, I still feel like I am just looking at photos from We Heart It or Tumblr. I can’t believe I was actually there. Whilst walking I was constantly amazed by the size and beauty of the buildings that lined the road. In New Zealand, if I wanted to get from one part of town to the other, there would be open spaces, estuaries or fields in between each section, but in London you could walk for hours and in streets with buildings so high that all you can see are the streets, buildings and the sky. From Kings Cross to Covent Garden and Soho, there is no break for fields or open spaces. I loved how many buildings there were, and how tall and grand they stood, proud, old and strong filled with countless memories. But it also made me realize how beautiful it is to live in a country that has open land and waters, where it still feels wild, untamed and untouched by humans. Later I was again presented with a London/NZ contrast. I was walking over the Waterloo Bridge and I stopped in the middle to look out towards the London Eye and Big Ben. The weather while I was In London was spectacular with few or no clouds in the sky, however from the bridge which was not that far from Big Ben, I could not clearly see it or the surrounding buildings. It was as though I was looking at them through a hazy screen. And then I realised, that was smog. Looking up along the skyline, it also looked as though there was fog, yet I knew it could not be fog, and so must also be smog. And when looking up into the clear sky, it was not the blue that I often saw at home, but a light washed out colour like a pair of old, faded light blue jeans (I must say that if in any photos the sky looks a gorgeous blue, that is thanks to my lovely editing programme!). There were so many things I absolutely loved about London, but what I missed was true blue skies and open spaces that are found so easily in New Zealand. Though I know people say money cannot buy happiness, I figure if I was rich I could spend half a year in London with its beautiful buildings and spend it up in Bond Street, and half a year in New Zealand for the open wild spaces, blue sky and fresh air. And to be honest, that sounds like happiness to me!

 

 

The London Eye

 

 

Neal's Yard

 

 

Other Photo's From London:

 

 

London Underground (public transport is AMAZING here!)

 

 

Keystone Hostel (my London home)

 

 

London Street Entertainment

 

 

Princes Street!

 

Buckingham Palace (and then my camera died)

 

Covent Garden

 

 More Cool Window Displays

 

Cavalry Demonstration

 

London Buildings

 

Neal's Yard

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Something Out of a Dream

I always knew that going back to my old house in Stourbridge would be weird, but I could never have guessed just how truly surreal it would be.

After walking around the same block of houses 3 times in an attempt to get to my old house from where I was staying, I was incredibly relieved to finally find my way to the ‘Little Park’ as I used to call it. It seemed to not have changed one bit, except the rather daunting “hill” which I remembered cycling down just after having my training wheels removed, was little more than a slight bump in the path. This was the first of many experiences where memories were extremely warped from reality, either by what I had seen through my 8 year old eyes changed either by my size or particular feelings that I associated with a specific place. Now that I knew the way to my old street, I picked up my pace and headed off down the road. Taking a deep breath, I turned right onto the last road before mine. The first building to capture my attention was the Good Seasons fish and chip shop. The white painted, double storey building with the shop underneath, and rooms above to rent. I couldn’t believe it was still there, with its bold, black, capitalised heading on a faded yellow background.  Looking in the window, it was bare, with nothing but built in counters and dust on the floor. A small paper sign explained the reason for this being that it was for lease. Though not surprised that whoever the owners were had decided to finally sell the place on, I could not help being slightly sad that whenever I would next be in the neighbourhood, one of my few childhood memories would be forever gone. At least I had managed to come in time to see it one more time.

 

Good Seasons Fish and Chip Shop

I then turned around and started down the one way road that had been mine. West Street. Confident of the distance from the top of the road to my old house I took off down the road, stopping after walking as far as I remembered it to be. However, turning to the right, I saw I was not standing in front of number 52, but 48. Confused I turned back round, and backtracked up to number 52. I couldn’t believe how close it was the end of the road, it could be no more than 3 or 4 houses down. Again reason hit and I realised my memory did not quite match reality. I had always thought it was quite a walk up to the end of the road, yet clearly, it was not!  It made me realise though some memories were very strong, they were mostly images of specific things, and anything to do with distance or size was as if it were a completely different place. The whole warped distance thing happened again when walking into town. What I remembered to be a really, really long walk that I never wanted to do, turned out to be no more that 500m away. In fact, town in clearly visible from the end my old road, yet I never remember it being so close, let alone being able to see it practically from our doorstep! I still find it hard to comprehend that memories as a child can be so different to reality through the eyes of an adult (well, rather a fully grown human – I do not pretend to think I yet qualify to be called an adult!)

West Street Sign

View Down West Street

Anyway, back to the house. When I had finally found it I was disappointed to see that the new owners had painted over our red door to a rather ugly cream/grey colour. Though of course seeing the house was incredible, the black iron gate, the red brick wall that we used to walk along (again it turned out to only be about half a mitre in height, much smaller than I remember). Seeing my old bedroom window on the slope of the roof, and the light wood alley door that Dad had made, now showing its age with cracks and mould creeping over the top and down the sides. These were all aspects that were familiar to me, but somehow, changing something as bold as the red paint on the door to something so plain created a distance between my memories of the house and me. Unlike so many things I had and would see around Stourbridge that had not changed at all, I could not connect to the house. The paint job made it feel like another house that just happened to look very much like one I had once lived in. It was one of the harder parts of my visit. I had so been looking forward to seeing it just as I had left it, expecting there to be no changes. But I guess after a decade, I can’t expect everything to be the same.

Our Old House

I was not planning on writing more than my experience of finding my old house, yet I realise it kind of ends on a downer, and that is not at all how I have been feeling in Stourbridge, in fact at all since arrive in London.

I really couldn’t decide what else to write about, as writing about everything in depth would take far too long, so I will just finish this saying that it was one of the best experiences of my life so far to return home. To see the places and people I remember, hearing the church bells exactly as they were, and even in places such as my old school walking into rooms and thinking, wow, it even smells the same. To anyone else who has ever left their childhood home for a significant amount of time, I seriously recommend going back for a visit. Just be prepared to be very overwhelmed!

 

Some more photos from my time in Stourbridge:

 

 

Crystal Leisure Centre (our old swimming school)

 

 

Stourbridge Town

 

 

Stourbridge Town Clock

 

 

Mary Stevens Park

 

 

Mary Stevens Park 

 

 

Mary Stevens Park

 

 

County Lane Stables (my old ride school)

 

 

County Lane Stables (my old ride school)

 

 

Jaffa (a pony I used to ride - was being ridden at the time)

 

 

 

 

Catching Up With Old Friends

 

 

Town Church (I remember the bell chime!)

 

 

Elmfield Steiner School (our old school) 

 

 

 

 

Elmfield Steiner School (our old school)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Family Farewell and a Story To Tell

Since deciding to write a travel blog almost 6 months ago, the thought of writing my very first post has, at times, been a more exciting prospect than the actual travelling itself. Yet now, as I sit at 9pm in the food court at Auckland International Airport, munching on a meatball Subway and drinking (probably for the last time in quite a while) an ice cold L&P, I cannot think how to write this anticipated entry.

If I was at home, I would have asked mum and dad for ideas, and no doubt made them proof read and edit this before I posted it. This very thought makes me realise that I’m not at home anymore. I have officially left home, and I’ll have to be a big girl and brainstorm and edit all by myself.

 

 

 My brain food.

 

 

Half way down my cup of L&P and one bite into my double choc cookie, I finally decided what to do. Mum and I decided that I would fly from Tauranga to Auckland the night before my flight and stay the night at the airport, saving us a 3am drive to Auckland. Though I was sure it would be an experience, I was a little worried. This along with that I had always told people that I wanted this travel to be filled with many little adventures. So that when I have grandchildren, every time they come around I could tell them a different story I thought. So what better first blog entry then an unusual sleep over giving me my first story to tell.

9pm (or there about) – seeing as not much as actually happened since touching down in Auckland, apart from getting Subway and glad-wrapping by bag (which was actually rather exciting I must say!) I decided to share a bit of my family farewell.

A few weeks ago time wouldn’t go fast enough and then before I knew it we were off to the airport. A final family photo was taken, and each time I hugged Dad, Mum, Charlotte and Lucy, the idea that I was leaving became more of a reality. Saying goodbye is always hard, but when you are saying goodbye to your family, the people you love most in the world, without knowing when you will see them again, it’s just that much worse. But every time I think how much I will miss them, I know I can just remember my last view of them, my face pushed against the plane window, looking down on miniature figures, all waving as hard as they could. A perfect last image!

 

Last family photo before I left at Tauranga Airport.

 

 

 

Last view of Mount Maunganui.

 

 

Walking from domestic to international at Auckland Airport.

 

 

11pm – Update time! To tell the truth, what is taking most of my attention right now is the total lack of feeling I have in my bum. This airport floor is unbelievably hard! But despite this hateful floor, it appears to be THE room to sleep in. It is a big, empty room with uncomfortable chairs in front of window walls that look out onto the runway below. Lining the walls are heaps of other young travellers with backpacks as big as mine, sleeping or watching movies. I managed to find myself a corner with a small group of Germans to my right and two others (from an unknown country as they have not yet spoken a word) on my left. My late dinner has settled leaving me feeling tired, and ready to sleep if only I could get over this dreadful floor. To add to the problem, apart from my L&P I have also drunk a 750ml of water, leaving me needing to go to the bathroom. Usually this would not be an issue, but being a single traveller, every time I need the loo I have to pack everything up again and lug it all into the toilet with me, luggage trolley and all – thank goodness they have disabled toilets here or I would never fit it all in with me!

 

4am – I managed to have a few hours of painful resting/sleeping on this crazy hard floor. I don’t usually have difficulty sleeping on floors, but this one was a whole new level of uncomfortable. It was very clear those who had past experience of airport sleepovers. Out of their bags they pulled blow up mattresses, sleeping bags and pillows. Luxuries I either didn’t have or had already sealed away in my gladwrap-cocooned backpack! However, seeing the just how many people did sleep the night at airports, I have truly been relieved of any past concerns. I can say without a doubt to anyone that it is 100% ok to sleep over at the airport - but it is probably best to bring a sleeping bag!

8am – Shortly after 4.30am I realised I would not catch anymore sleep before I left, and checked everything in. Just before heading to the gate, I decided to watch the sunrise, as it would be the last one I would see in New Zealand for a while. And the sun rise was perfect. The sky was clear enough that the sun was visible, yet there were enough light clouds that the sky turned beautiful shades of orange, yellow and pink. Watching the sun slowly crawl over the distant mountain (or hill rather) it all starts to sink in. I’m really doing this. I’m leaving on a one way ticket and who knows when I’ll be back!

 

The stages of the perfect sunrise.