A Spectacular Sunrise

More often than not, when I travel to wherever it is that I am travelling to, I don't truly believe I am there until I get home and look at the photos. At this point I get super excited thinking, "Oh my gosh, I was actually in London! Look it's me in front of the London Eye!" This is not to say that at the time I am not incredibly excited, but it never usually sinks in until afterwards. Or similar to how you don’t quite appreciate your summer holidays as much while you are having them as when you are in the middle of an annoyingly difficult test in the middle of your first term back and you think back to those long, hot days and wonder why you didn’t enjoy them just that little bit more at the time. However, one very fine morning last week I had a moment where I truly realised the beauty of that moment in the moment itself. This occurred whilst watching a spectacular sunrise over the Adriatic Sea.

 

Just a reference for those of you who don't actually know where the Adriatic Sea is (or like me didn't know what sea it was between Italy and Croatia!)

 For as many days (or rather mornings) I have been in Censenatico I have told myself I simply MUST get up early one morning to watch the sunrise. In our holiday location, on the east coast of Italy, the sun rises over the sea (rather than setting on it as it does on the Tuscan coat, closer to where I live). I had seen the setting sun on the sea and it was gorgeous, but I wanted to add a sunrise over the sea to my collection of beautiful things I have seen in Italy, and I was sure it would be a worthy addition. Finally, on the third to last morning I would be there in the summer of 2014, I got up before even an inkling of light had touched the sky, hopped on my bike and rode off toward the sea. With a chilly breeze reminding me it was almost autumn, I sped along trying to keep warm resulting in my arrival time rather earlier than predicted, but giving me unexpected time to sit and enjoy the slow and gorgeous colour changes on the horizon. And had I been prophetic, I could not have chosen a better morning!

 

My first view of the sunrise

Distant rain on that vast sea

Once seated on one of the vacant sun beds, ignoring that fact that my toes were beginning to ache with the cold, I took a proper look at what I was seeing. Above the still dark sea was about an inch of clear, coloured sky above which was a line of abstract clouds, flat bottomed with fluffy tops, before the clear sky continued on above. In that inch of clear sky above the sea, pinks, oranges, reds and yellows swam together for miles in both directions making it almost impossible to decide at what exact point the sun would appear. The clouds above were dark greys, almost black in parts with the top ‘fluffy’ part whose outlines matched the warm hues below. Under the largest of these dark clouds I could just make out slanted lines of grey giving away the fact that despite the clear sky above my head, somewhere in the distant sea there was a heavy rain fall. Distant enough not to affect me, but close enough that I could see its natural beauty. That morning the sun rose like Hazel Grace fell in love, slowly and then all at once. That stunning scene remained in front of me, unchanged for over 10 minutes when all of a sudden within the space of a couple minutes the colour that stretched so far seemed to be pulled into a centre point, right in front of me, and it was there that the sun broke over the edge of the world (almost blinding me in the process!) heralding that the day had begun.  

Outlines on the 'fluffy' clouds

 

Sun breaking over the sea

Sun breaking over the sea

 

Once the sun had cleared the sea and was heading up through the layer of cloud, I headed off, walking down the beach a little ways. Watching the men raking the sand into tidy lines, looking over the empty sunbeds that would soon be occupied by thousands of holiday makers. Passing or being passed by other early morning risers who were likewise enjoying the beauty of this little daily miracle we so often forget to appreciate.

 

Morning task of raking the sand

 

Those other early morning risers

 

Sun through the clouds

 

Sun through the clouds

 

The sun is really up - what a beautiful day!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

There's No Place Like Home

When I first decided to travel, or rather when I began telling people about my decision, I was told every time without fail, after the “wow that’s so great!”, that missing home was really rather awful and apparently inevitable. Some said it would happen as soon as I got on the plane, others were certain that it would take a few weeks to a month. Either way a time would come that I was sure to suddenly wish I was home with my mummy and daddy and cuddly teddy and wonder why on earth I decided to leave beautiful New Zealand. And so I got on the plane. And I did not miss home. I got off the plane 35 hours later, and I still did not miss home. I travelled for a month and, you guessed it, I STILL did not miss home. By the time I got to Italy and settled in with my new family I began to wonder if there was something wrong with me because I still had not had the heart wrenching tears and unbearable homesickness I had been warned about. It has now been 5 months and I finally realised something. I have been missing home the whole time. Not in the way that everyone described, in fact I have only cried twice since leaving home, neither time having anything to do with homesickness. That got me to thinking and, you see, I believe everyone misses home in their own, unique way. What I have found is that I have been blessed by my lucky stars that I miss home, my family and friends in a very different way than I ever expected. When I remember them or think of them - that is me missing them. I don’t cry heartfelt tears, but I miss home as much as the next person, but just in the most beautiful way possible. And what’s more, I find myself missing the weirdest things I never even thought were particularly special!

 

Leaving on a jet plane

I miss home when I see Beatrice giving her mother endless kisses by remembering with a smile the hugs and kisses I would get every day from my mother, the last squeezie hug I had given her before I got on that white and blue Air New Zealand plane, and being excited for the day when I would finally be able to wrap my arms around her again. Whenever I go running I think about Dad working out at the gym and can’t wait to go home so we can go together, try and beat each other’s leg press and laugh at the majority of people who seriously need to learn how to use a rowing machine properly. I constantly find myself thinking of something right in the middle of the day that I REALLY want to tell my big sister, and bombard her with messages telling her to wake up, even though I know I won’t get a reply until her morning (my evening). I will see a beautiful horse in a field and wish I could be watching my baby sister riding again who long ago surpassed any ounce horse riding ability I ever had. When I think of my family I always end up smiling, because I know despite how much I miss them, my missing them will only make our reunion that much sweeter.

 

My last dinner with my amazing family

My beautiful baby sister

 Sometimes I will just be sitting eating lunch, reading, or playing with the kids and suddenly I will remember something about New Zealand that I never realised I had found special. I will think fondly back to the way that the light always came into my bedroom window in dancing shadows due to the large tree in our back yard, with a slightly red hue from my curtains. Or our stupid driveway that had so many potholes, not matter how hard I tried I could never find a smooth route up. Every time without fail I would always ended up uncontrollably bumping up and down like an excited child on my car seat. I miss seeing my parents heading off every Saturday to the farmers market and knowing they would return at 2pm with a fresh loaf of Maunganui Gold from the French baker, fresh veges and if I was lucky some delicious bacon which would all be compiled into the perfect BLT lunch. On the topic of food, who knew anyone could miss rolled oats, soft brown sugar and Pic’s natural peanut butter to the point that you make a shopping list to buy the above (minus the Pic’s peanut butter as that is an NZ only, unfortunately) next time you are in England!

Oh the simple pleasures..

I often think of the simple pleasure and joy of having my own car that I took so for granted. Being able to drive 30 minutes from home to the beautiful Mount Maunganui and to be able to look over the whole of Tauranga after a short(ish) slightly pant-inducing walk to the top. Or to drive only 15 minutes from the bottom of my road to reach the top of the Kaimais and look out over Matamata way at the endless green and raw beauty that is New Zealand. I used to laugh when people gawked, ooohed and aaahhed over water falls or the “wild” New Zealand bush. It was so normal to me! But oh, what I would give to stand among that pesty, yellow gorse, listening to the symphony of birds and the endless thrumming of cicadas.  To know that, if I wanted, I could drive for hours with the only sign of civilisation being the road I was on and the occasional farm house with a barking dog, letting me know it was not abandoned. And to stop at a petrol station, buy a mars bar even though I know I shouldn’t and continue on my way, munching that delicious goodness, window down and wind in my hair.

Top of the Mount view

 

Beautiful, wild and green New Zealand

And then horror of horrors, I find myself missing a memory I thought I would have banished from my mind. My last year of school which seemed so endless at the time, seems a too short sweet memory filled with coffee dates during free periods, group study that turned into doodle sessions and invaluable time and fun with friends that we will never be able to have in quite the same way. I sometimes even fondly remember my scratchy school skirt, my polo that always managed to stretch into the weirdest shapes or my school jumper that would never fail to receive a comment due to the hole I had somehow acquired under the armpit and that despite telling myself numerous times to fix, I never did.

Did I really say I missed that uniform!?

Even now as I write I find myself smiling and laughing over the memories I have and how much I miss it all. I love where I am, I truly do, and I can now say with certainty that my life has taken me on a course which does not lead back to New Zealand at the end of this year. But I will continue to miss my beautiful country, the beautiful people that fill it and keep the memories in the front of my mind, always reminding me what an amazing place it is that I get to call my home.

The place I get to call my home

 

 

Finally Five!

Last Sunday was the 5^th birthday of the youngest member of my Italian family, Beatrice. She had been so excited to turn five that the whole week before she started telling everyone that she was already five years old, not four! This frustrated her big brother Giacomo who always want to do things the right way and thus was adamant that she could not be five until her birthday. Which, of course, is very true! However, Sunday the 3^rd of August did finally arrive and when I saw Beatrice and wished her a happy birthday with a cuddle and a kiss on her check she could not stop smiling.

 

 

 As per request, I had woken up a little earlier than her so that I could make pancakes as a special birthday breakfast. Once we had a plate piled high, we dug right in spreading a generous portion of Nutella over the golden brown pancake. In no time at all there were chocolate covered fingers and faces and a silence that is only ever heard whilst eating good food. Finally breakfast was finished, the chocolaty mess cleaned up and it was time for presents. Because Beatrice will be starting ballet in September, from her parents she received an entire ballerina set, a tutu, skirt, cardigan, tights and shoes all in a beautiful baby pink. She was so proud of her gift that she out it all on straight away before suddenly becoming too shy to show us any of her twirls. However, as soon as she though nobody was looking she did a sneaking one foot pirouette and a very cute pleased with herself expression crept onto her face. It was then my turn. I pulled out a bag with three individually wrapped presents (though I could have wrapped them together, everyone knows unwrapping is the best part!) She first opened a packet of glittering pink stickers that are able to not only be stuck on paper, but almost anything – including clothes! It was quickly decided that these would decorate her ballet clothes. Once the pink wrapping was pulled from the second gift, she looked up confused. “What?” she asked holding out the box. On the front was a picture of a rag doll, though it was clear that this was not a doll. It was a box. I explained that it was all the bits of material and thread and buttons that would make the rag doll, but we would have to do the sewing ourselves! Once she realised she did not stop asking when we could start sewing! The third and last gift also fitted well with the ballet theme, being cute pink clips that stood out in a beautiful contrast in her dark mahogany hair.

 

Munching on birthday breakfast pancakes

 

Opening her make-your-own rag doll

Once all the presents were unwrapped it was already 11:30am and so there was only time to get all ready before heading into the car and off to the Tuscan coast for lunch. Though the weather was not at all as summery as one would expect in early August, it was not raining so when we arrived at the cliff side restaurant it was still possible to sit outside and look out over the vast blue ocean. The lunch itself was delicious, and consisted of a fish platter and mussels for starters followed by pasta and tomato sauce for the kids and absolutely delicious fried fish for Massimo, Filomena and me. The meal was nicely accompanied by a delicate white wine and some scrummy, crusty white bread. Beatrice had insisted on wearing her new ballet clothes out for lunch, and once she had had her fill, she walked onto a clear section of floor and began showing off her twirls for all to see, her shyness left behind and forgotten with the scrunched up wrapping paper in which the gifts had arrived. With full bellies and happy smiles photos were taken and then we were back on the road, heading home. The rest of the day was spent relaxing and not doing too much of anything until the grandparents, uncles and aunt arrived to share Beatrice’s Peppa Pig birthday cake. A perfect end to a lovely day.

The wild weather waves

 

Twirls in the resturant

 

Gazing out to sea..

 

Our table

 

Amazing crusty bread

 

Our selection of starters

 

Fantastic fried fish dish

 

"Family" photo