It's not a small world after all

So my son got a new toy while we are here in Italy and when you pull the string it plays the tune It's a small world after all. He loves it...mummy not so much though as the music lasts all of two seconds and you have to pull the string again before my son starts giving me dirty looks. The theme of said song is given away in the title that we have so much in common we must recognise that it's a small a world after all. I really used to be a true believer in such a statement...until I had a child....after two seconds the world don't seem so small any more. 

I try my best not to become frustrated at the different beliefs, ideas, morals, ethics about how to raise my son. My son has a very multicultural background with a Jamaican mum and an Italian father which only makes matters more difficult when it comes to recieving 'advice'. Here in Italy women faithfully follow what their pedeatricians tell them (which in itself can be different advice when you speak to the different mums) while in the UK women blatantly lie in the face of the health visitor (again offering different advice when you speak with different mums) while they carry on doing their own things. They don't have Gina Ford or Annabel Karmel in Italy and Jamaica. My sister is a pedeatrician and often scoffs at the advice I have been given in the UK, tells me to worry less about their rules and just do something else completely different. 

When my son decides to do things differently I am told every baby is different. In the end he depends so much on me but I have to put a lot of trust in him that he will show me some of the way.

Keeping cool in summer

Trying to do so much here to keep cool this summer. The day from early morning to late night never seems to want to drop below 30. I notice the little kids downstairs in their swim suits playing with water to keep cool. I remember when it was me and my friends on our street in Jamaica begging some parent to allow us to turn on the sprinkler so we could run through it continuously with our swimsuits on. Then they were kiskopops! In the UK they call them ice lollies, in Italy there is ice-cream. Then there is watermelon...

I only remember getting a small pieces and using my hands. Here in Italy you get usually a rather large piece and a knife and fork! It's big, red and juicy which ever way you serve it. Can't get enough of the stuff.

Home is where the heart is?

I have recently been having thoughts about home. Hubby's sister recently commented on facebook that she has lost count of how many places she has lived but she definitely new for sure where she calls home now, even though that is technically not the place she is living at the moment. As someone who's favourite thing is travelling and not just to go on holiday but to live and breath other places has been magical and made the concept of where is 'home' kind of elusive.

I left my first home when I was 18 to go to University in the UK. I always felt a little claustrophobic in Jamaica and this was my chance to grow up and gain my independence. Every summer and Christmas though I would gleefully say I am going home to spend time with family and friends. I went home to get married. Actually even though I have been living for several years in the UK, not just studying any more but working, actually considered a resident of Scotland, I still say to people if I am going to Jamaica that I am going home!

My husband is Italian and so we have been to Italy on several occasions to visit his family and friends. It has gone beyond just needing to see the sights. My new family lives there now and hubby's close friends have become mine as well. When I eventually learn the language my experience of it all will be even further enhanced.  It is now about going to visit my second home!

We have now been living and working for nearly 7 months in Auckland and it has become our home away from home. These days when people ask hubby and I where we have come from we look at each other first. I am Jamaican and he is from Italy, we usually live in Scotland in the UK but we have been living in Auckland for several months now. 


I guess we are not sure what our future holds and if Scotland will always remain our humble home forever. We do know our home will always be with each other and with our family and friends. So I guess yes home is where the heart is or where pieces of it are anyway!

Easter reflections

One of the great things about travelling is experiences different cultures and the way that they do things, sometimes differently and sometimes surprisingly the same.

My memories of Easter at home in Jamaica are mainly around religious traditions. As a family we would abstain every Friday and not eat any meat. I remember not complaining too much as that usually meant we would have a special delivery of veggie pizza that night to look forward to. The penultimate was Good Friday which was usually the dreaded day of sitting at home and not being able to do anything! I remember as a little girl at prep school making our Easter bonnets for our Easter parade...'I've an Easter bonnet with all the frills upon it....' singing and parading in front of the older children at the school. There was definitely a feeling of importance there being on show. I don't remember Easter eggs or eggs hunts.

When I arrived to the UK I found that they even sold cards to help you celebrate the event. The stores would start advertising the sales of their Easter eggs from early in the year once they got Christmas and the New Year out of the way! Cadbury cream eggs...I must say they are a sticky favourite with me. You mean the Easter bunny actually exists and they have Easter egg hunts. I remember celebrating my first Easter at work with the children, putting on my bunny ears and tail, heading out in the garden and hiding the eggs for the children to hunt and collect in their baskets...if they don't eat them first!

Then there is Italy, Buona Pasqua, with our celebrations on Easter Sunday as usual centred around food. I love this place and I love Pannetonne! Of course they really go to town with their Easter eggs here and it's amazing some of the special things that you find inside. Hubby will always have a special place in his heart for kinder eggs and being able to build his special toy!

And now I have just experienced my first Easter in New Zealand. Waking up early on Easter Sunday and heading to church and with a special Italian twist as our Easter egg that afternoon travelled all the way from there. I find myself again at work with the children hiding the eggs and watching their excited faces as they venture on the hunt.

However you celebrate, however you do it, Happy Easter!