Roots Can Fly

During my last visit back to the States, I finally managed to go through some of the family china that my mom has been keeping for me in her cupboard.  There's a full dinner set of my great-grandmother's that I have always loved.  The problem, of course, is moving a full dinner set of antique china from Arizona to New Zealand.  It's fragile, and it's surprisingly heavy -- they don't make things like this anymore!  A full dinner plate weighs almost one pound!  In the end, I just sorted through this dinner set, made an inventory of what's there, and wrote a list of the pieces I'd like to claim as mine.  Then I put it all back in the cupboard. Getting it all over here seemed like an insurmountable task at the moment.  I'll get there though, I do have a bit of a plan now.  It involves packaging and mailing some and hand-carrying some on my next trip.

For now, however, I did bring a different set of plates back. These ones are a gorgeous pattern called Singapore Bird.  They were a wedding gift to my mom and dad, a gift from my grandmother's friends.  It's not a full dinner set but more like a dessert set.  There's medium sized plates and tea cups and saucers. I brought the plates... and one tea cup.  The weight of just that was more than the allowable weight of a carry-on on Air New Zealand.

House into Home

My sister brought my childhood teddy bear over to me last week.  "Sunshine Bear" enjoys the view from his new digs in Dunedin.

For most of my 20’s, everything I owned fit in my car.  When I moved to Alaska, without my car, all my possessions fit in my backpack.  My first year in New Zealand, I lived in my boyfriend’s (now husband’s) old work van for several months while I worked on fruit orchards.  I had a long and sincere conversation with a fellow van-dwelling orchard-worker about how living in a van is good for your soul.  It’s freedom itself. Whether a backpack or a van, living as a self-contained little unit keeps you mobile and unencumbered.  

For years and years I lugged around a small, tattered, plastic folder with some of my favorite photos – snapshots of friends and family as well as artistic, decorative shots.  I also carried a small ball of twine and some clothes pins.  I’d stretch the twine out, pinning it to a bare wall, and then hang photos from it like you hang socks from a clothing line.  It looked great and when it was time to move, the pictures went back in the folder and the ball of twine was wound up again.  At the next place of residence, it took just 5 minutes to hang it all up again.  In this way, 'home' really was quite portable for a while; I created it by hanging a few photos on the wall.   

During these years of nomadic living, however, I daydreamed about someday having framed photographs hanging on the wall of a possibly-more-permanent dwelling. These days, though I will always have another 'home' too, I am trying to create something more permanent here in NZ – to Settle In. My sister was just here for a short visit and she brought two 50-pound suitcases with most of my family treasures that have been patiently waiting in my mom’s closet. Now I have my dad’s old baseball glove, my teddy bear and blankie, my baby book, my grandfather’s camera, my great-grandmother’s Christmas ornaments and more.  It’s so special and significant to have these things here that I almost can’t talk about it!!
 

And – I also have photos, in frames, on the walls of a home that my husband and I recently bought together.  It has character, great energy and an AMAZING view.  We count our blessings with this place daily.  When my friends Nick and Kelly from Alaska were here, they helped us move into our new house.  Kelly walked right in, picked up a framed photo, and hung it on the wall, proclaiming, “There. It’s your home now.”  I have left that photo right where she put it.

A framed photo of a friend and myself about to jump in a cold, Yukon lake.

I’m keeping the twine, clothes pins and a folder of photos ready should the North American horizon or some other location call us back into another adventure…  But in little steady ways, this house is also turning into a home.

More FRAMED photos. My dad's baseball glove and more.

It's the Small Things

It’s the small things.

Like…

Finally changing Word's default paper-size setting to A4 instead of Letter on my laptop.

Changing Word’s default spell check language to “English (New Zealand)” instead of “English (US)”.

Putting my US dollars and coins in a little bowl at the back of my dresser to await the next trip home. 

Swapping my Alaska drivers’ license out of my wallet to make room for my New Zealand one.

Buying a calendar with NZ holidays on it but having to look up the date of Thanksgiving on-line.

Thinking in Celsius and talking about 'litres per kilometre' not 'miles per gallon'. 

Spelling things with an “re” instead of “er” and with an “ou” instead of just “o”.

Going to “post” something instead of to “mail” it.

Waking up listening to Radio New Zealand instead of NPR.

Making ginger crunch instead of chocolate chip cookies.

Drinking tea... and still drinking coffee too. 

Lighting the fire and turning on the heat pump rather than adjusting the thermostat for central heating. 

Cooking more Indian and Thai at home instead of Mexican.

Cooking with real pumpkin instead of baking with canned pumpkin.

Using a bicycle everyday but putting the cross-country skis away. 

James wearing blue overalls to work instead of Carharts. 

Leaving my Xtra Tuffs in my mom's garage back home. 

Constantly searching for the international plug adapters so I can plug in my laptop, camera battery, Kitchen Aide and more.

Making jam from orchard fruits not wild berries.

Saying my birthday is the 20th of the 9th, not "September 20th" and celebrating that day in Spring, not Fall!

"Hello, Molly!"

I moved to Alaska in summer, 2001. I left when winter rolled around, unsure if I’d ever go back, but before I knew it I was working on an assembly line in a paper factory in rural Missouri saving up the money to return. From then on, it slowly but surely, wonderfully, became the place I call home. To steal the descriptive phrase an immigrant used to describe her homeland to me, returning to Alaska after a short vacation or a year in New Zealand, soon felt like “entering a warm bath.” Ahhhhhhhh.

But of course, though I loved it there right away, it took a little time to feel that good. I remember thinking, in the early days, that when I had a particular experience, I could officially be considered, and consider myself, an Alaskan local. What was that experience? Seeing someone I knew while waiting for a flight to Juneau in the Seattle airport.

One airline flies into Juneau – Alaska Airlines. Note: after landing at the Juneau Airport, the flight attendants do not say, “We know you have a choice when considering airlines and we thank you for choosing Alaska Air.” No, they don’t say that. Or if they do, the entire plane snickers. There is no choice, and believe me, the cost of flying into Juneau will make you believe in capitalist competition.

In addition, if you want to fly into Juneau, you will not only be on Alaska Airlines, but, with the exception of a few options that go through Anchorage, you will be routed through Seattle. For this reason, after spending the majority of the last 10 years in Juneau, I have joined the ranks of locals who view the Seattle Airport as an extension of our town. I know which restaurant will give me an extra taco for only $2.50. I know which hot chocolate is the best. And, after months of shopping only at Juneau’s Fred Meyer for everything I could possibly need, I get freaking excited about the Seattle Airport’s shopping opportunities. I choose itineraries with long lay-overs so I can get lost in Borders, check out the clearance rack at Ex Officio and be simultaneously disgusted and intrigued with the expanding variations of Crocs.

A Warm Welcome

From the minute we boarded the Air New Zealand plane we noticed a different attitude. The flight attendants were happy! They gave us a genuine welcome, made small talk with passengers and generally paced the aisles with a smile. A far cry of difference from the US Airways flight attendants on our previous flight from Phoenix to Los Angeles. Those flight attendants were fine; Nothing better or worse than what I would expect on a jam-packed domestic flight. They looked tired and slightly grumpy and I didn’t blame them. They are most likely underpaid and overworked. Most American airlines have been financially struggling for years, as manifested in their repeated staff cutbacks, pay cuts and increasing surcharges for everything from baggage to bathrooms. Many internationally based airlines, however, are partially subsidized by their government. Less pressure to make a profit means better working conditions which in turn lead to happier flight attendants. It also means more perks on board which leads to happier passengers. Freshly settled into our seats, slightly disoriented by the pleasant optimism of these accented flight attendants, my mom and I looked at each other with an “Is this dude for real?” expression when the “onboard concierge,” Mark, announced that he was available to advise passengers on navigating the Auckland Airport or on what to see and do in New Zealand. I mean seriously, that’s a little unsettling.

Another glass of wine, please. Thank you.