Our household belongings still haven’t arrived from our move from Wales in July. And we are now at November’s end. Sigh. Grunt. Growl.

So as not to bore one with the details, our crate should have arrived 2 months ago, and will probably arrive within the next two weeks putting us well into December. Some people might enjoy the simplicity & adventurous life of this kind of minimalism, being able to fit all of your belongings in a few suitcases, but no one in my family, including yours truly, finds one ounce of enjoyment of living in an empty house.

But despite all of the frustration that not having one’s whole household belongings causes, I have noticed the most lovely thing happening in my children.  A little experiment if you like.  A little experiment that I did not set out to conduct. A little experiment that has had a most interesting outcome.

Growing up with an extremely creative and resourceful mother who made an indelible impact on me, I have always considered creativity (mainly defined by me as “thinking outside of the box”) one of the bedrocks of how I set up my family.  My kids imagine, they design things, they have limited time on the computer & T.V. They are what I consider to be creative kids. But they often find themselves in the habit of becoming quite bored, despite having so many things to play with. So when the news came that they would be separated from most of their toys longer than expected, I was crestfallen. Even more boredom was anticipated on the horizon with fewer “things”.

But to see the process that my children have gone through over the past months adjusting to a life with less toys has been quite surprising (rest assured; they did bring a suitcase full).

First my kids went through sadness to be separated from most of their belongings. Lots of “I’m bored, I’m sad to have left (insert random toy______), I have nothing to do, Poor me, etc.” Then a little anger from the kids set in with mum crying at night to dad about her “poor babies suffering without all of their stuff.” Followed by more kid cries of, “I’m bored,” sitting around staring at a blank wall, laying on the floor, throwing a small ball repeatedly at the wall.

Then as if a little candle was lit, creativity started to blossom. Those once random projects of designing, creating, imagining, making anything and everything from paper, writing stories, were now happening on a daily basis. And where mum & dad used to be the generator of ideas, the kids now wake up almost daily saying, “Today I am going to (design, write, create, draw, play)…..”

And the cries of boredom have become less and less.

I am completely astonished at how my kids have less at the moment, but yet they are less bored and more creative in all aspects of their childhood than when they have more.

So if you were to ask me what I learned from this “experiment”, it would be this: All of this stuff that we are filling our kids’ lives with, the huge amounts of things we are buying them to fill their time (whether it be an overabundance of toys, or allowing them to spend copious amounts of time in front of the T.V. or computer or Wii) is zapping them of their creativity.

Less is simply better. I am not a promoter of no toys, or anything extreme, but to have watched my kids go from being bored at times with a lot of toys to hardly ever bored with few toys is a most interesting thing. They are living proof that creativity is a muscle. The more you exercise it, the more creative you become.

So this little experiment that was forced upon me, has proven to turn out beautifully.

I have had a major readjustment to the intense heat of Texas. When my kids complain that it is “boiling”, I continually remind them that I grew up in this weather while all the time asking myself, “How DID I grow up with this heat?” For about a week coupled with jet lag, I was sure I was carrying a big hairy gorilla. The heat really weighs you down & zaps your energy until you learn how to live with it. And the best way to live with it…..get in the outdoor pool. I have had an insane amount of fun laying in the pool while the kids play. I wish I could invite all of my Welsh friends to the outdoor pool with lots of heat.

Being reunited with my parents has been a lovely thing. They are so kind to house us all & mom cooks for us most days. How blessed am I? We all went bowling the other day & I chuckled hearing my dad taunt us with athletic stories of his youth. When you have lived so far away from your family, you really appreciate those times of togetherness.

As I have gotten older one thing I have really begun to appreciate is a city’s culture. And San Antonio has a lot of culture. We have loved eating Mexican food (favorite being fish tacos), visiting the Alamo, & seeing all of the colorful decorations of Mexican culture. It was fun to pay our respects to the Welsh flag at the Alamo & learn of the only Welshman (Lewis Johnson) who fought there.

I am still happily amazed by the fact that I can fit so many clothes into the clothes washer & that I can get “nitrate/nitrite” free bacon at almost any supermarket. Sorry to say I am shocked by the obesity problem in Texas & the fact that so many people ride in those automated carts around the store.

I have been most surprised by how I respond to extremely friendly people. I am very friendly & I have always thought that people in Wales were very friendly, but in Texas I have found myself felling slightly uncomfortable in the presence of extreme friendliness. I don’t know if Americans are better at eye contact or what it is, but communication between strangers is different in America. I think I have found myself trying to close one eye (like a one-eyed wink/squint) while someone talks just so it won’t be so intense. To another random person who was talking, I just blurted out, “I love your teeth. You have really straight teeth.” I think my uncomfortableness made me do it!

So, there you have it. Below you’ll find some pictures of fun in San Antonio. And just when I think I reacclimatize to Texas, in two weeks time I will be moving to Portland where another adventure awaits!

Here’s the front of my home. I have 3 levels: ground floor, 1st floor, & second floor. Lots & lots of stair climbing. I don’t have a garage, but am lucky to have 2 parking spaces in front. My house is connected on either side by another house. Very, very close contact with one’s neighbors. However, until recently both houses were used as a second home, so I was blessed to be able to blast my music and piano as loud as I wanted. I also don’t have a garden (backyard), but before you feel bad for my kids, don’t worry. My kids played constantly in the front of our house. My son seemed to have his own private football pitch in our car park (parking lot).

Ground Level Floor

Entry way

I have a small toilet(bathroom) on this level. My son’s room is on this level, certainly the most bizarrely placed room in the whole house. His room is smaller than my closet in the U.S., but bless him, he has grown to love his small room. It’s decorated in NYC & now football (soccer) pictures.

My kitchen is not your typical Welsh kitchen. It is open with lots of space and opens to the eating area. Every square inch of my house was carpeted expect for a small tile area in the kitchen. Luckily I like to vacuum.

 I love to give things a new life by painting them white.

The only “closet” I had in my house contained my washer. I crammed it full of other junk too…my makeshift “laundry room.”

In the UK if you want to dry your clothes you either:  use a line to dry them, use a tumble dryer where you have to vent it (usually out the window), or have a condenser dryer which sucks all of the water out of the clothes and you can place anywhere. I have a condenser & have hidden it in the kitchen behind a screen.

First Level

Landing

Old spoons from granny, photos by Brad, & the random plastic antler. I love the light fixtures here. Usually you have a hanging light bulb and can find fancy stuff to attach to it. It is genius in my mind.

My daughter’s room is on this level. Hanging umbrellas and a Mexican heart from New Mexico, Will & Kate flag, antique horses from a shop my grandfather once worked at, and some more things spray painted white. Would a British home be complete without a “Keep Calm & Carry On” picture?

On the back of the house is the lounge. I have a blue cuckoo clock that I love & several pieces of furniture that were once my grandparents & I have painted them. Lots of artwork comes from Steve Keene who is an artist based in NYC. I was able to buy a beautiful print by British artist Mark Hearld while here.

This is Brad’s work area. As you can see, our motto regarding pictures is, “Why put up one picture when you can put up 10?” Bless him for embracing my style.

I have another toilet on this level. The only thing worthy of photographing is another plastic deer head.

Second Level

Our bedroom is on this level. I forgot to take a picture of our large metal Eiffel Tower that was originally supposed to be yard art & a huge crest that I spray painted white. Here is our bed with ottoman in front. I am blessed to have another toilet on this level with a shower. Since we don’t have closets we have wardrobes. I have actually come to love those. They make you simplify your life and get rid of anything unnecessary. And cleaning them out is simple unless you are my husband who only does that once every 5 years.

This is the view from the back of my house. If you know me, you have probably seen a gazillion photos from this view. It is one of the most beautiful places in the world to me & where I have seen a swan nesting for the past four years. The national rowing team also practices in this river. And to throw in a little reality, this is where the local youth like to throw rocks at ours and our neighbors’ houses. There’s always adventure along the path behind our house.

And this is the back of the house from the nearby bridge. Ours is the second brick house from the right under the left arm of the stadium.

So there you have it. A little tour of my house. It will be fun seeing where everything fits in my next house. I can be assured of a couple of things though. There will be lots of pictures & more spray painting of things white. Cheers.

My life is about to change in a big way. My family & I are moving at the end of the month back to the U.S. We’ll find ourselves sometime over the summer in Portland, Oregon. From Cardiff, Wales to Portland, Oregon. I have lived in Wales for 5 years. Five years doesn’t really seem that long, but when I think of how I have changed and how my children have grown up here…..5 years seems like a long time.

I am a natural sentimentalist, if that is even a term. So, when I look to these last upcoming weeks spent in beloved Wales, I find myself replaying things in my mind like one does watching movies on an old projector.

Wales has left such an impact on me. I tell people now that I am part Welsh (even with a thick Texas accent). I drive on the opposite side of the road & love roundabouts. I take my shoes off when I come in the house. I say, “Let’s go to town” instead of, “I’m going to the mall.” When given the choice between British or American chocolate, I always choose British without hesitating. I like my smallish house that is connected on both sides to other homes & goes straight up with 3 levels. I love my British toilet with 2 flush options. I make curry, fish pie, & lamb, something I would never have cooked, and I rarely ever put ice in my water. I don’t cancel plans as much when it rains, and I actually walk a lot of places instead of driving (I know Welsh friends–I still drive a lot). I say “Hiya” instead of “Hello” (but still throw in a “Howdy” every so often just for fun) and I sign my name with little x’s afterwards. I don’t even watch American Idol anymore, and I never ever misuse the word “pants” for “trousers.”

Below the surface I am a changed person as well. I have experienced living in a community in a way that I have never have before. Growing up in cities where things were so spread out, my friends and activities were always so spread out as well. Here, I have loved having almost all of my friends living within a mile of my house. I have enjoyed that almost every time I have gone to the supermarket, I have run into people that I know. I love the fact that so many days I wave to friends while driving down the road. I have loved living in the heart of the city.

I have been greatly impacted by meeting so many people from different countries of origin. I have met more people from different countries within the last 5 years than I had ever done in the previous 30+ years of my life. I am truly fascinated by the stories that they have shared. I have met so many people from so many different walks of life & various life experiences and they have helped teach me and let my compassion grow. I can say confidently that I am a far more open-minded person after living in Wales.

And I have laughed more than I ever have in my life. The British humour is second to none.

I feel loved & accepted by the Welsh. I have been so blessed that people have been so kind to me, helpful, forgiving, & even willing to have a good laugh at my expense. And people are always interested to hear my story, which is nice for a person who likes to talk.

Someone recently told my husband that from this day forward, we will never be fully American. I couldn’t agree more. I love America and I love Wales.

I recommend, if possible, living part of your life in a different country. It stretches you, it changes you, it enriches you, it enlivens you. It makes you more whole.

1. The National.

What year end list omits a favourite music “must have?” I found the National in 2010. Well, I like to think of it more like they found me. Alrighty, in actuality, my husband played it for me and I was hooked. Ohio raised & now Brooklyn based, they are lyrically verbose & lead singer, Matt’s deep voice mesmerizes you. The kind of music you envision yourself slightly swaying to (and I don’t mean in a dorky slow dancing fashion), hands in pocket, probably wearing something grey or black. No week has gone by where this band hasn’t received significant air time on my Ipod. And yes, I’m glad that Rolling Stone & The Times (UK) agreed with me, putting it on their “Best Of” lists. The only, and there is just one, negative in my mind–lead singer Matt Berninger somehow physically resembles Tori Spelling’s current husband. So, a few tiny points deducted in coolness factor, but he has some to spare.

2. Cooking with fresh red chilis (chillis in UK).

I remember a time a long time ago that I was highly intimidated by fresh garlic. But once I took the plunge in cooking with it, I was hooked in a very big way. Life without fresh garlic seems utterly boring to me now. The same goes for chilis this year. Prior to 2010, I used to leave out those little guys in every recipe thinking they were certainly too hot, they were too powerful for me to handle, but little did I know the flavor they added to recipes. Yes, I have had some burning mishaps where hours after cooking I have touched my eyes or face(should have worn those kitchen gloves), but it was worth it. Who knows when I will graduate to hotter ones? Perhaps someday…

3.  Ambre Passion by Laura Mercier.

I found my signature scent in 2010. The kind of smell you like so much that you abandon all other beautiful bottles of perfume sitting on your dresser that you had been loyal to for ages. The kind of scent that if you don’t wear for one day, you miss it. The kind of scent that my friend commented, “I can smell you before I can see you.” Of course this smell isn’t right for everyone and I wouldn’t dare persuade others to abandon their favored perfume for this one, but if you are out shopping and you need a pick me up, an instant awakener, peruse the Laura Mercier counter, look for the bottle with amber tonic and take a whiff. And if you are a bit daring, spritz it on. And don’t be embarrassed if you find that you cannot help smelling your arm throughout the day. I still am.

4.  Moleskine Colour a Month Daily Diary.

Who doesn’t love Moleskine? The simple, yet sleek design that can be recognized from anywhere. Something about it makes one want to be a writer, as if words look better tucked inside its colored covers. I was given this gift last Christmas. 12 little colored notebooks, one per month. An individual diary for each month of the year with enough room for writing every day. A daunting task I thought, but somehow the 9 x 14 cm format was just small enough to not overwhelm me, & before I knew it, voila’- 2010 is ending & I have filled in each & every page with doings & daily absurdities of my life & my family. And I guess because I am strange (or perhaps living in a climate that is unpredictable), it even has a space for temperature & climate charting.

5. Fish.

The mere word causes some to pucker in dismay or others salivate. This year I cooked a lot of fish. I’ve always loved fish/seafood. It dates back long before I sat next to my mom as a child in the garage with a large black plastic garbage bag (bin liner) filled with live shrimp (prawns). I remember seeing their buggy black eyes & watching my mom snap their little heads off, getting them ready for the night’s dinner. A bit cruel, but boy was it yummy after cooked. But, much like my intimidation of chilis, I only cooked your basic salmon, a bit of cod, prawns, and of course….tinned tuna through the years. However, when my neighbor, Phil, became the fish manager of my local supermarket this year, I had no idea how my culinary habits would change. Sea bass, sea bream, & sardines are amongst some of my new friends. I can’t say I’m highly excited by staring at a fish head on my plate, but no longer am I scared to put it on our weekly menu. Fish is no longer a foreign language to me….thanks Phil.

So that’s my little list of 2010. I stopped it at 5 things, even though I could go on much longer. I didn’t even mention how much I love a bottle of white spray paint, how my favorite shop for inspiration was All Saints, & how a random television program entitled “Requiem for Detroit” about the city of Detroit’s transformation & degradation through the years topped my television viewing. Thanks 2010. Roll on 2011.

Around 27 years ago my mother enrolled me in piano lessons. Yes, dreaded piano lessons. Those very words can evoke such unpleasant memories in people that if you gathered multitudes in one room, most who took piano lessons probably have tales (and nightmares) to tell. Most children who take piano lessons seem to do so at their mother’s insistence. Even though I only took piano lessons for a couple of years, the memories of not wanting to practice which subsequently led me to arguing with my mother and the guilt and embarrassment of showing up for my lesson unprepared still are fresh in my mind.

So, needless to say, after a couple of years lessons I was ecstatic when mom said that I no longer HAD to do them. Since she was a wonderful pianist I would listen to her play and then sometimes over the years pull out music and tinker at the piano if I was extremely bored. When I moved out, I no longer had a piano around so the tinkerings grew less frequent and there was little desire. I always thought, “Good for me to have had piano lessons, but I’ll never have a piano. Never really want one, and sure don’t want to spend the money.”

I guess people do weird things when they have children, and when I look at myself, I surely fit into that category. So, after only having a couple years of piano lessons, enough to get me through Billy Joel’s “Piano Man” with no less than 10 mistakes, I decided that it was not only time for my daughter to start piano lessons, but that I would in fact teach her myself.

I know, it all does look rather bizarre in writing: a woman who’s only had a couple of years of piano lessons, whose repertoire of songs is limited to Annie, Superman & Nadia’s Theme (the theme to the soap “The Young & the Restless”) teaching piano lessons. But that meant that I must purchase a piano and at the time I wasn’t overjoyed at the thought. So, a piano was purchased. To be more exact, a digital piano (Yamaha Clavinova) was purchased. And then it began…..

I was in love.

I’ve now had my piano for 10months. A day barely goes by where I do not desire to sit down and play. No longer is it just Annie & Billy Joel. Sorry to offend here, but no boring classical pieces for me. I’ve found music I love. Coldplay, The Killers, Mumford & Sons, Snow Patrol. Songs that sound just like they do on the radio. Songs that I can actually bang out WHILE the CD is rolling. And to see that with practice I can, and actually am better, just fuels me to play on. And if you are wondering if I am still teaching piano lessons to my daughter, the answer is yes. Although it is not easy dealing with her attitude of not wanting to practice (like I so vividly remember in myself), I stick with it because I hope that someday she loves playing for the sheer enjoyment that music brings.

Several months after getting our piano, Brad commented, “Where has this been all of our life?” My sentiments exactly. So, here is to all the mothers (and fathers) who insist that their child play something musical. Thank you. Thank you mom. Thank you that fought (and won) to make me take piano. If I had only known then what joy it would bring later down the road.

I have been giving you a bum rap for far too long. You see, my brain has been color coding months on a pie chart ever since I can remember. Every month gets a color and a position on the pie chart. Yours is in the bottom right, much like the same place a number 5 is on the clock.

And in this color coding, you have always been given the misfortune of being seen as an ugly color: brown mixed with a dull yellow. To say it without being too cruel, dog poop with a squirt of mustard on top.

I should have used a cute name to describe you, like those used by clever Crayola: “bittersweet, fuzzy-wuzzy, tumbleweed.” But instead, I chose to overlook your charm and possibilities and avoid seeing the best in you.

I know what you will say. You were at a disadvantage from the start. No wonder I have never liked you August.

So today, on the start of the first of your 31 days, I am not just giving your color a new name. I am applying primer over your designated space in my mind and giving you a new hue. You are now GOLDEN and I will look forward to what you have to offer. Your possibilities will be endless.

For every country one lives in, summer takes on a different meaning. For most of my life, summers in Texas were characterized by school being out, unbelievably hot days, softball games, the smell of OFF (later to be replaced by the more “natural” versions), fantastic cookouts with friends, outdoor swimming, countless mosquito bites, & last year- many trips to Sea World & the water park.

Now that I am in another country I find myself making new associations with summer. These new associations are no better or worse than the ones experienced in my homeland. They are just different. And living in a country where the one thing you can count on is rain & grey skies, we have been blessed immeasurably so far this year with many days of sunshine, warm temperatures (still cool for Texans) & relatively no rain. So, here is what summer in Wales in 2010 looks like for me.

Summer Is…
Multi-coloured sailboats behind the house glistening in the water

50+ swans (and new baby cignets) congregating for a party in the river

Leaving the back door wide open, not just because you want to get last night’s dinner smell out of the house, but because it is too beautiful not to

Lots of photographs being taken

Those ginormous spiders that have been growing since spring outside all of your windows waiting to catch their prey after it gets dark (at 10pm!)

Feeling the heat in your car on your face when you get in & not even wanting to turn the air on

Summer Is…
Watching your children’s imaginations run wild

Sitting in the car park (parking lot) in front of your house, because you have no yard, with your swimsuit on & just not giving a hoot at how ridiculous you might look to those driving home from work

Seeing the sun shine through your black out blinds way too early in the morning

Barbecues with neighbors where the grill is jammed with steak, sausages, lobster, prawns, & chicken

Summer Is…
Putting musical notes in the air of your drawings

An abundance of British strawberries & wild blackberries

Tom Petty’s “Free Fallin”

Ripped jeans & white fingernail polish

Summer is so, so good.

But of course, as it always does with me, the rose colored glasses were ripped off and smashed in the coming weeks as I experienced culture shock. Thirty two years of living as an American in America versus 2 weeks living as an American in a foreign country. A big, no, a massive shock. There were countless mornings I woke up thinking, “Surely this has been a dream (nightmare more like it). What have I just gotten myself into?”

And the days past. The weeks past. And now I can say that the years have past. My baby Brooks who was one, wearing diapers (nappies), chewing on a pacifier (dummy), and just grunting is now a fully functioning 5 year old. And he has done almost all of his growing up in Wales.

I too, have done a lot of growing up in Wales. Not that I thought that I needed to grow up, but when you are out of your comfort, your familiarity, your homeland, you just simply do some growing up. The situation forces you too.

I am learning that there is a lot of learning to be done. You may be an expert at getting on in your culture, but when you step outside into something very unfamiliar, you are on a steep learning curve. And where you consider yourself an intelligent, educated person, in your new culture you will feel stupid, especially at the beginning. And chances are you will sound stupid and look stupid at times too. I am learning that to live in a different culture you need to be ok with people stopping and staring when you speak because that Texas twang sure causes interest.

It took me two years to learn that math in school was pronounced “maths” and 3 years to learn that they do sell sink stoppers for your kitchen sink. (One didn’t come with my house so I assumed they just didn’t have those and suffered for years without). And I have learned from experience, that no matter what you think, that red cord hanging from the store bathroom ceiling is not the toilet flusher, but the fire alarm that activates the store alarm and sprinkler system.

I have learned to laugh at myself a lot and have even been guilty of laughing at my husband’s cultural mishaps on occasion. I have learned to love learning information about the culture and people that I live around. I have learned that I couldn’t just get over culture shock, but had to be patient and walk through it.

I have learned most of all, that I when I just want to hurry up, take the fast track through whatever God is trying to teach me so I can arrive quickly with as little pain, His preference might possibly be for me to sometimes take the long route in learning something. Because when this happens, it produces true transformation and true character change.

These four years in Wales have been nothing short of an adventure. I can look back 4 years ago and rejoice remembering the smiles and tears of living in a foreign land. I am so thankful that God has been beside me every step of the way, whether I realized it or not. This experience is something I would not trade for the world.