5 Things I have learnt since moving here

Hey guys,

We are almost reaching our 1 year anniversary since landing here on the hallowed shores of California. We landed on October 20th, 2016. Now being October in a few days, 2017, I thought it would be time to take stock of how the year has gone.

Here are 5 things I have learned since moving here. 

1. Driving on the wrong side of the road Or indeed driving at all. I am not a big driver. I tend to walk everywhere, tube it everywhere but when I arrived on these shores, many people said "Good luck with that plan!" and promptly left me to it. I tried. I walked D to school even if it was like 25 minutes away and I made it. A couple of times. Then inappropriate footwear kicked in and I drove. Everywhere. To town (which is a 10 min walk), to the shops, to the cinema ... did I mention to town? But what I have learned is, I can drive! (Hence anyone can drive. No seriously. Anyone.) Now, it might be simpler because all cars are automatic here, and lanes are wider here but hey. I'm taking credit where credit is due. Whatever the circumstance. Not only do I drive, I drive on the wrong side of the road! Take that driving instructor! I even go on the highway!
2. Spelling messes me up. Grammarly helps. Zs and Ss. Mum or Mom? Acclimatised or Acclimatized? Who knows? I am in America now but my head hurts with spelling and then I start worrying about my readers judging me and I'm paralytic with spelling hell. Can I spell? No. Grammarly helps. My head still screams "It's ZED not ZEEEEEE- EEEEE." 
3. Hot HOT weather. Years of being in the cold have taught me that no matter how hot the weather is, I'll still go out in it. Mad dogs and Englishwoman style. 40C (104F)? No problem! Let's walk! (see No.1) On the contrary, I'm freezing my butt off at 17C (62F) when in England that would be summer for most of us, grateful that the sun is out. I'm amazed how quickly I've acclimatized to hot weather. But I was born in Singapore where it feels like an oven most of the time. When it doesn't, it feels like soggy bread. And you wonder why I like it here.
4. Friendliness. Now, this I take over ole' Blighty. You go into the shop or anywhere really (on a walk, in the park, in the CAR PARK) and everyone says hi, how are you, how are you doing. Then they move on. To the uninitiated, they would think that the Americans are genuinely interested and want their life story, but no. They are just being polite. They want to greet you, make small chit-chat and then leave. Don't make the mistake of telling them your life story. But equally, don't ignore them. Recently, H made a trip back to good old Britain (and Europe) and he sighed with relief when he wasn't being greeted (hounded was his word for it) with chirpy salutations upon entering a room, any room. "Oh," he said, "it was so good to be left in peace! I forgot how that felt!" Sourpuss I say. Some say the Americans are fake and really their greetings just roll off the tongue. They don't mean it. I'll take that over a glum face any day. Genuine or otherwise. I like that about the Americans.
5. British friends keep me right. Recently, a British friend pulled me on the walking thing. She lives slightly further away from town than I do, and when I started to talk about driving into town and picking her up, I got the evil look and the obligatory nod of the head like she knew what I was talking about but didn't approve. And so I said, " We should walk huh?" and she simply nodded and that was that. That and it is still a biscuit, folks.

So here are the 5 things I've learned so far in my day-to-day. Maybe not terribly profound or insightful, but for the day-to-day, it works. I find being myself is the best thing and if 40C makes me feel like going out, I should drive rather than walk. Otherwise, walk where possible because it makes me feel like I am back in England. Unless wearing inappropriate footwear. Spelling is what it is, and I'll spell how I feel that day. Mum is becoming a lot more like Mom simply because the pronunciation lends itself to that spelling. But Ss will always win over Zs. Saying Hi to everyone, from America or otherwise, simply because it is a nice thing to do. There you have it, my 5 things.

(Still) Going strong in sunny California,

xoxo

An unrequited love affair (It's not what you think)

Who shall I fly with next?

As a wise person once said, it was the best of times, it was the worst of times. For summer this year, I flew back to Singapore to see family. We had just moved to California and I had never flown from the West Coast to South East Asia direct before. I prayed for a good flight. It could, as we all know, go all so badly wrong.

But the flight going out was uneventful (which is all we could want) and I was beginning to think this route wasn't too bad. I even began looking forward to the return flight simply because 1) I hate flying but 2) the flight out was actually enjoyable. It could be fun for once (I have been flying consistently for 20 odd years; it has never been fun). However, during the return flight, Singapore Airlines (SIA), whom we flew with, lost our luggage. When I finally got my luggage returned to me 4 days later, I discovered that a couple of items had been stolen from my luggage - a handbag and a fidgit spinner (of all things!).

Things go missing all the time. What's so special about this time?

This way to long haul flights

When I brought it up with SIA about the missing items in my luggage, I was really surprised and more than a little disappointed with their reaction - which was basically "not my problem". Well, first they took 4 weeks to investigate only to come back to say they had the bags in their sights the whole time (yeah right) and no, it couldn't have been stolen on their watch. (Question: when did they not have my bags? I was under the impression that before the bags were returned to me, it was under their duty of care!)

Well, I am disappointed, to say the least. I understand that mistakes get made and luggages go missing. I even understand that items get stolen. But to be shrugged off just like that made me feel undervalued by an airline which I had been loyal to all these years. Why was I so unnerved? Airlines have a bad rep for this sort of thing. Was there more to it than just lost items?

I don't know about you, but if you travel as much as I do, especially constantly flying home to see family, the airline is your partner. And in a partner, you want understanding, leeway, a bit of give and take (ok, a lot!), sympathy and empathy. It's a personal journey in more ways than one, each and every time. I have been flying consistently for about 20 odd years now, since I went to school in the UK, where I stayed for university, stayed for work and finally stayed for marriage. Previous to that, my parents had always chosen SIA, because they believed in them, found them safe and reliable. I have been a loyal partner and customer through and through. I stayed true when they were just starting up, I stayed true when the chips were down. I even stayed true when I felt they were lacking.

What's different now?

Will I fly away? Will they care?

So much has happened in the last year. We moved to California, to a place literally halfway around the world from my family in Singapore. When they would visit us often in London, California is just that bit too far and that bit too unfamiliar. My return journey to Singapore seemed all that more important or else I was going to lose touch with them.

This year's journey back to Singapore was joyful and painful - a close cousin's 1 year death anniversary, my best friend's son about to start school, a grandmother so old she can hardly recognise me as she sinks into dementia, hanging out with cousins who are like sisters, spending time with my nieces and talking to my brother again, hanging out with a special aunt who is 85 (!), and of course spending days on end at the market and doctors' appointments with parents. I get once a year to experience all these, a kind of fast forward if you will. I feel the passage of time acutely as it takes its toll on family and friends, simply because I am not there on a daily basis to experience each milestone. How many more of these do I have? To top it all off, the item that was taken was a gift from my parents. I loved the bag they gave me - not because it was a bag but because of what it represented, the memory that came with it. It wasn't about the value. It was about the kind words they could have said instead of "we advise our customers not to pack anything valuable in checked in luggage". It was about a gesture of kindness they could have extended. I believed in them so much, I never thought they would lose my luggage, nor did I believe that I would have anything stolen from it while on their watch. And even after all of that, I still believed in them so much that I thought that in my moment of need, they would be sympathetic and kind. And those cost nothing.

Silly me.

So when I needed them most, SIA could not deliver. There wasn't a helping hand or a kind word to acknowledge my pain and frustration. Even BA and Virgin did better in that respect (and if you know me, I am not a fan of BA: think no help with wedding dress!) The lack of sympathy was stark. SIA was professional, they conveyed their apologies, but there was no feeling, no love, no acknowledgement of my loyalty for them. I was but a number in their huge count of customers. I was essentially a nobody.

So there you have it. My unrequited love affair. 30 years to be exact. I felt used and betrayed. I have to once again search for a new partner in this journey of mine. There was a time when I would wax lyrical about them, sing their praises from the highest mountain ("They were different, not like the other airlines" I would say) but now I can no longer, hand on heart, recommend them to anyone. Is it because they lost my bags? No. Things happen. I get it. Rather, it's because they don't seem to care. They don't love me like how I loved them.

Am I too old to start again? Do I have too much vested in this relationship? Were my expectations too high? All these thoughts race through my mind. And the final thought? Silly me. It is, after all, a corporation. A money making one. I am only a customer, a nobody. I thought they were different, but actually, they are all the same. Even my beloved airline. I should expect no less.

Maybe it is time to move on, harden my heart, expect that difficult things will come. Family will get older, people move on. The journey will be uphill no matter who I fly with or where I live. I have to learn to expect that. And relationships do fall apart.

Lots of love
from sunny California xoxo

PS: Just in case you are wondering if a corporation should care, I highly recommend a book called "What would Google do?" by Jeff Jarvis (on sale at Books Inc now). It is exactly on point and the answer is YES, corporations should care, for their customers and bottom line. If they think these are mutually exclusive, well, Dell will say otherwise. Ironically, the crew on board was the best I have ever experienced. The head steward and his team were brilliant, making us feel as comfortable as we could. Kudos to them for taking the initiative and being really, really responsible and great!

From San Francisco to Singapore - our first journey home

The doors slide open and the air is hot and thick like molasses. Molasses, an American food, a product that only belongs there and nowhere else. And now it belongs to us. Molasses. Even the word is thick, wrapping around our tongues like how the humid air wraps around us and chokes us, refusing to let us breathe.

It is our first flight back to Singapore since moving to California. We haven't been home for one and a half years, the longest duration between visits. I feel all grown up flying that distance myself. The last time I did it, I was 13 and with my parents. I am excited, strangely, to go back, many questions answered, many conundrums solved by our move to San Francisco. I no longer feel angst, in doubt, fearful. Suddenly, I have a new outlook and my visit back to Singapore is eased by it. I am generous and forgiving. I don't mind bias or favourites. I no longer count the different ways my mother favours my brother. I generously allow her without anger or resentment. Like the flight, I feel grown up. My pettiness is laid to rest.

Day One: we run errands and buy our necessities. Then the unthinkable happens. D acquires a large gash on his large toe. With blood dripping on the shopping mall floor, we hobble down to the clinic, helped along by a kind stranger who offers to be our guide. She leads us through the complex maze of shoppers and shops to the lift and we ride down, holding on to D's toe for dear life, stemming the flow of ruby red blood, all the while praying that it isn't broken or needing the hospital. We stumble into the clinic and in a jumble of words blurt out our problem, all this while trying to keep the blood from dripping onto the pristine white floor. We fall into the treatment room, grateful for a bed for D, hoping that we wouldn't have to go to the hospital.

We are in luck; after cleaning the wound, and examining it, the hospital isn't required. It can be dealt with in the clinic. We heave a sigh of relief and cling to the doctor's every word, drinking it up like nectar from the gods. We want to believe desperately that it will be alright and that this is where the trouble ends.

D is stitched up and hobbles back to the car. Singapore clinics are efficient. We are there for only an hour. We collapse into a heap in the car: jetlag and exhaustion overcome us. I am finally tearful.

Day Two: we rally the troupes. The cousins are brought in to soothe the painful foot and the bored soul. They haven't seen each other in a year and a half but it was like only yesterday that they were together. They chat nineteen a dozen, taking quick short breaths in between for fear of losing more time. They cannot believe that they are together again and constantly rib each other, nudging one another as if to reassure themselves of each other's presence.

The cousins are the siblings that D longs for. He doesn't mind that they are girls when it is de rigueur to ignore the opposite sex. They weave invisible threads, like cosmic heirlooms, that bind themselves to each other. But it is so much more than the blood that binds them. Friends more than family, they cackle with laughter and giggle at lame jokes, all this while shoving and pushing each other in jest.

Day Three: my own cousins turn up. I need reinforcements too and they, like D's cousins, are more than just blood. We fall into step as if no time has passed between us. All but one, the eldest who passed away last year. I feel the loss keenly. She was a force to be reckoned with, but also the eldest out of all of us, the first to go. I, the modern woman, sought her opinion and approval for a lot of things. She was the leader of all of us and presided over us. She was too young to go. But like D's cousins, we have invisible threads that bind us, history at school and in the family that weaves this complicated web. We gossip, mixing friends from school and family stories, even though they are a decade older. We share inside jokes and muse over common understandings. They are more than family. They are friends too.

Day Four: more reinforcements arrive. S, my best friend turns up. And here, more than a friend, she is a sister. We can't stop laughing and trip over our words in a hurry to spit it all out. This is the time I regret the distance when usually I relish it. We hug each other and promise to meet again soon.

Day Five: we are home bound. But D is whining: when can we meet with Auntie S's boys? Again, the ties that bind are stronger. Auntie S's boys are like brothers to D. More than just friends again, they are family. The ties that bind S and I bind D and her boys too.

All the things that I used to mind, used to resent about coming back here seems to have melted away. I scan through my old blogs and shrink back at the resentment that radiated from them all those years ago when I visited. What has changed? I don't really know. Maybe it is age, maybe it is finally being released from London, maybe it is finally feeling like I am moving forward, that I can breathe again. That I can put the past behind and look to the future.

Whatever it is, coming home is a wonderful feeling now. I can see myself moving back here, growing old here. I see myself settling into a routine when I usually dislike routines, I see myself appreciating the little things unlike before when I used to be dissatisfied and unrelenting in trying to make fate bend to my will.

A broken foot which will hopefully mend soon. A broken heart that has been mended. Long may it last!

Teeth, the Tate and Touring

So I might be trying too hard with the alliteration but it works. Somehow. In that order too.

The week has been an ordeal with a bit of emergency dental surgery. But I muscle through it and decide to take a trip down to SFMOMA to see the Matisse/Diebenkorn exhibit. I have been to SFMOMA once all those years ago and liked it. And I like Matisse. So I jump at the chance to go even though I don't know much about Diebenkorn and I have just had surgery.

I wasn't quite sure what to expect but I enjoy (most of) it. The pain and tiredness aren't fun but like I said, muscle through it (anything to be in the city!). I didn't see the similarities between Diebenkorn and Matisse much but later on, I could see Diebenkorn's work coming to the forefront. He adored Matisse though never having met him and the influence is evident. However, I thought Diebenkorn's work came into its own when he wasn't trying to be like Matisse. I like his work when it was all on its own and no (obvious) influence of Matisse could be seen. But hey, what do I know? I am not an art critic, nor have I studied art. I just love wandering the hallways of galleries and museums. I am sure many would disagree with what I have just said, but that's what my first impressions are.

I can't help but compare. I saw Matisse at the Tate. I love the space at the Tate, and it just doesn't compare. I haven't had time to love the SFMOMA just yet. But I wander through to the 4th floor, then the 5th and then the 6th. And I think, there is more to this narrow brick building. Little hidden cubby holes and stairs that lead to more. Down the rabbit hole? Or up the witches' lair?

It is crowded, filling in the last few days of the exhibition before it ends on Monday. It is Friday and there are droves out to see this well advertised exhibition. I bite my tongue and make it through. Later on I find a balcony on the second floor, a wall of green, sculptures and two one way street signs. I am cheered by what I see, the wall of green brings a smile to my face and rest to my weary jaw (and feet).

I guess it isn't much of a trip to the city this time. I usually enjoy it a lot more but it is a long wait for the Bart and there are a lot of homeless people out. I feel bad, it reflects on me; I don't know how to act and I don't know what to do. I want to avoid them completely, I don't know how to help, I don't know how to make it better for them. I hurt I ache, I don't want to know.

Two days of sleeping. I collapse into a heap and I don't go anywhere. Then suddenly on Sunday, I feel better. H asks if I want to go to Alice's Restaurant and I go for a long ride in the sun up to Portola Valley through the winding roads up the hill and end up at Woodside. A biker's haven, a cyclists' rest space. Alice's Restaurant (http://www.alicesrestaurant.com/) serves as a resting place for bikers and cyclists. An old fashioned gas station (called Alice's Gas Station) sits next door. You know it's touristy when they are selling t-shirts. A lot of touring bikes stop here, the bikers in the their leather gear, headbands and sunglasses. Porsches and Maserattis fill the place too.


The breakfast menu is extensive, and so is lunch. We go early and thankfully we did. It is packed by the time we leave which is only 11.00am. The dungness crab benedict is lovely and the Belgian waffles with fruit and fresh cream ((lots and lots of it) are absolutely out of this world. Breakfast burritos for the geekie men go down a treat.




All that is lovely, but what I love best is the ride back. The sun shining through the Redwoods, we drive back down the winding road and I look up, seeing the green pass by. I stop for a moment and snap a picture. It stays with me, more than the stock photo I take of Alice. It seems to frame up nicely, my Alice in Wonderland lifestyle at the moment. I catch glimpses of my former life, mistaking people for the ones I knew back in the UK. Doppleganger type situation, I peep round the corner and I think I see people I once knew only to do a double take and realise it isn't them. It's funny, I have flash backs when I least expect it. So touring round Northern California, my neighbourhood, so wildly different to London is soothing. The green and the sunlight make me feel at home.

Out and About ... and What's Free in Silicon Valley Part 2

Cantor Arts Center in Stanford University

So here is the follow up to last week's post. What's free in Silicon Valley Part Deux.

I am being constantly surprised by what is free around here. I am surprised by the generosity, their tenacity and love for their interests. I am cheered that there is such goodwill around even in such difficult times.

Love this piece of ancient China!

What did I see this week? I decided some 'me' time would be good. I wanted to see some of Palo Alto and its surroundings that was artistic and cerebral (not that hanging out with my 8 year old was not cerebral ... just in a different way!)

I heard that the Cantor Arts Center in Stanford is amazing ... and free believe it or not. It has two floors of art work, totally 20 galleries, and hosts the largest collection of Rodin's work outside of France. The Stanford family did love collecting and he did so for the benefit of the students and the public. If this sounds like too much work, or little ones are involved, there is a sculpture garden and some of Rodin's work are displayed there too, so that you can enjoy the art even if it means being outside. There is a cafe there as well for a break if needed.

The outdoor gallery of Rodin sculptures

Stanford is also worth a visit in and of itself. Wondering around campus is great, especially when the sun is shining and the breeze blowing through the palm trees. You could almost imagine being a student there, learning, absorbing, creating. All for about two seconds when you realise that you aren't young enough and energetic enough anymore! There are free tours to be had. A trip up the Hoover Tower is also worth it, for a bit of history and a lot of views. You can see all the way to the Golden Gate Bridge on a clear day. The docents are highly informative and if you are lucky you might be there when the bells are being played. This isn't free though and will set you back a princely sum of $4.

Glorious house and Garden. Thoroughly enjoyed it and worth the visit. And free!

The Gamble Garden

The other place that I had found was the Elizabeth F Gamble House and Garden. A house and garden open to the public in the middle of Palo Alto amongst the rich and famous? I had to see this. True enough, entry is free. When I arrived there was a private party being set up. But part of the gardens were still open and the flowers were in bloom. With the sun shining and the laughter in the garden, I told H that I wanted an occasion that we could celebrate so that we could book out the place! It was the perfect setting. The house was lovely too and reminded me of the old mansions and houses we visited in the UK replete with gardens to boot. Small enough to wonder around, you could spend a morning here and bring a picnic or a coffee. Some people were sunbathing amongst the flowers. It isn't far from the Rinconada Park and Junior Museum and Zoo that I spoke of last week either so combining the two would be a possibility.

There are many more things to do for free around here, museums, houses, galleries that I have yet to visit. There is still time. It will keep me busy! I will write about the others in due course but I hope that you enjoy what you could in Silicon Valley for free Part 2 for the moment.

For more things to do, see my post last week about What's Free in Silicon Valley Part 1