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When we first left, I had every intention of writing regularly. Last time we had travelled, I had been a consistent writer - something that I know others had enjoyed and I was glad I had recorded the memories upon our return. Five weeks after we have left, however, I am finding it considerably more difficult to reflect upon our journey. Something indefinable seems to have changed, as if I am a swimmer who is afraid to look back lest he discovers how far he has come.
Before we left, I was full of anxiety at the prospect of such a move. This tension was not only from the prospect of living on the other half of the world, far from family, friends and my comfort zone, but of a transition from one stage of my life. I have been a student for as long as I remember, and that study had defined my identity to a degree I had never before experienced. Although I was of course delighted to have submitted my thesis - thus ending a particularly busy six months of writing, editing, tutoring and saving - it has been difficult moving on from a life that brought
such comfort and joy.
On arriving here, that anxiety has not flourished as per my concern but I think to some degree I have been hiding from it - hence the reluctance to write and reflect on the journey. I'm sure that most travellers go through some element of home sickness - although I have not experienced it in full flight, it certainly exists to some degree. It is not so much a desperation to return home, or a hatred of London, as much as the strangeness that I feel every morning when I wake. It is an uncanny sense that things aren't quite right, that a certain line of personal defence has been breached beyond return.
Part of this, I'm sure is my distancing from life here. Although I am enjoying our London experience and the opportunities it provides, I have not been able to find a job - despite countless applications - with the result that I often feel like an outsider in my own existence. These difficulties in establishing ourselves, we have found, have been our dominant experience in arriving in London.
Arriving, however, was not as difficult as leaving. The decision to make
the move was quick but justified entirely by the lack of opportunity in New Zealand. Neither Victoria or I had any firm job prospects in our desired fields and, as comfortable as life had become, as had the feeling that we had begun to sink too much into an accommodating lull. In addition, I would have had to confront a major live change anyway - things were going to different whether I liked it or not.
Still the decision was a difficult one - conceived, to some extent, in a day-dreaming walk home - and the pressure to save money was all consuming. The first half of 2010 was the most stressful - and productive - that I can remember. Once we had decided to come though, there was no turning back - accept on our farewell tour.
Our goodbyes were everything from poignant, painful and awkward - it is very interesting to see the different reactions - but once they were done we were on our own and it felt like a journey that had begun three months previously finally kicked into gear. Our flight was necessarily long and not really worth reflecting upon - perhaps it
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Really pisses me off is just that it has been too long - except to say that it got us to where we wanted to be. The effects, however, have been a little tougher to forget.
Jetlag is a strange beast, dragging you down without warning and without question - once you feel it, there is often no fighting it. During the first week Victoria and I would often feel the tug of tiredness early in the evening and then fall into a deep but brief slumber. More than once we woke to think it was morning, only to discover that we had only been asleep for an hour or so.
Nonetheless, we did manage to get to see a lot of London. Travelling by foot, we were often out and about before the crowds. Our long walks, generally with a distant goal in mind - seeing a recruitment agency or setting up a bank account - were a great way to see London. After an initial rainy day, where I wondered if our worse fears had been confirmed, we have had excellent weather, often reaching the high twenties.
The other difficult thing about our arrival was finding a place to
live. We had originally planned to find a place to ourselves - driven by a fear of the unknown, more than anything - but that proved slightly too expensive. There was always a sacrifice that was just too much, whether the place was too small - and there were some tiny places - too expensive, too far away or in areas where we just didn’t feel comfortable. It was all becoming rather desperate when we decided to switch to a sharing situation. After many hours of calling and touring round, we had a choice of two places, one in Fulham, the other in Shepherd’s Bush. The former was a familiar situation, although there was five other flatmates, they were Antipodeans’ , SAFs and Poms. The house also had the added comfort of an ensuite. It was, however, a 15 minute walk to the tube. By contrast, the Shepherd’s Bush option was right on the Central Tube line. Its disadvantage was that its ten housemates were significantly more multi-cultural and the lack of communal space made it more like a hostel.
After some debate we decided to go with the latter option, and it was with much relief that we
received a text the next morning confirming our application. We had a place to stay, and would move in the next day - we had arrived! Although those first few days were stressful and often demoralising, they were also full of the kind of excitement and hope that only comes from being outside of your comfort zone. When I think back to moments in the tiny studio apartment that was our home for the first week - a zone of comfort hindered only by its dilapidation and the endless stairwells that provided an excellent reason not to come home - when we were fighting jet lag and sore feet, despairing over our imminent homelessness, I would not have thought it to be possible but I miss those days of hope and despondency. Things are unlikely to ever feel the same again - or have such a simple goal. I hope that in the next few months I feel the same about our current challenges. London may move fast but making progress takes forever.
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