Life is a journey. Our experiences shape us and become the compass that determines our path. Accompany me as I explore and understand how trauma affected me, shaped my sense of self, influenced my decisions and made my body sick. Who I am and who I appear to be can sometimes feel like oceans apart. My lighthouse is my fervency for life, passion for change, and belief in my dreams. The blog is my way to make sense, process and ultimately heal. I hope it helps you too.
I’ve fallen behind with the blog. Still in it’s infancy, I have been relying on inspiration on the hop to know what to write about. Then, doubts come in. Does it fit in with the blog’s theme? Can I convey what is in my heart? Will I do it justice? And so I have favoured other tasks over writing the next blog post.
The light bulb moment came while catching up with a friend. “What have you been up to? What’s been on your mind?” Within moments my week flashed before me as if a video in fast forward mode. And the idea came. Why not post my week in this way? Why not give you an insight into the musings, wanderings, reflections, and troubling thoughts of my week? So here they are. A small snippet of the mish – mash of my week. The photographs are from my good friend, Cypriot photographer Kyriakos Achilleos. I’m not going to title them, I’m going to let you ponder over them and see what they say to you. I’ve chosen the ones that spoke to me. Let’s see what they say to you.
Refugees… Never far from my mind or my heart. I’ve been on the frontline, in northern Greece in 2014, watching as they arrived exhausted, thirsty, carrying frightened children, worried, hoping, only to face red tape, political games, cold shoulders, indifference or even anger. If we could just stop to put ourselves in their shoes. To look at life through their eyes, to fear for the safety of our children the way they do. Would we still turn our backs?
I met Salam Noah through a friend who was helping him in Greece about 3 years ago. He had crossed the border with his wife after a most treacherous journey. Having forfeited university in Iraq several times in order to work and put his younger siblings through school, his turn finally came to study and in his last year of university, war broke out and he decided to flee. He succeeded where others did not. Not allowed to work, not allowed to move, he decided to turn his hand to painting for whatever he could get. Years later, now settled in France, his paintings tell us the stories of what he has witnessed and the heartbreak he has felt over and over again. This is one powerful example and reminder for us all.
My friend Laura lives in the UK, raising her family and doing life like all of us. But she is a woman of action. She sees a need and acts. For years, she has been making little blankets for newborn babies and sending them all over the world. Recently, she decided to start creating goodie bags for refugee children stuck in camps in Greece. Faithfully she has gathered items for each bag. Finally, they were ready to be sent. 1200 children will receive gifts they could only dream of. 1200 children will smile and squeal with joy. 1200 children will know that someone somewhere cares and thinks about them. 1200 children will receive renewed hope…
I came across this article in my LinkedIn account and it has been on my mind for days. I struggle greatly with understanding the logic behind decisions that leave people in desperate situations. Although I don’t have the experience of raising a disabled child, I have friends who do. I don’t have the words to describe the daily highs and lows, the terrifying sound of alarms on devices that are keeping their children alive, the humanely impossible efforts to give able bodied siblings quality time with their parents, the utter exhaustion. But I cannot accept that we live in one of the richest countries in the world, able to fund entire wars, send millions of pounds in aid to other countries and yet are unable to care for our most vulnerable.
I urge you to click on the link and read the article that Daisy’s mum has written about the plight of children’s hospices in the U.K. It is eye opening.
We have the opportunity to make a difference just by being a little alternative, by looking at things through a different lens, through taking a step back and considering. This story of a senior who celebrated his graduation by throwing a pizza party for the homeless folk, is just one example. Click the highlighted link.
Another example of using what we have at our disposal to make a difference is this story of a farmer who planted a wildflower meadow to raise money for charity, Elliot’s touch. Not only is he benefiting the charity, as well as the meadow, the soil quality and the local wildlife, but he is improving the mental health of all who come to sit on the benches and soak in the majesty and beauty of it all.
Tongue cancer survivor Elly Brown not only survived cancer but she also refused to allow it to rob her of her singing career. Despite losing most of her tongue, she determined to not be beaten and with much hard work she has learned to sing again. May Laura’s determination and beautiful voice, inspire you to keep going, to not lose hope, to not be beaten and to know that you have been gifted so as to bless others.
We live in an age when travel is a normal part of life. Catching a plane is almost as easy as catching a train. The world has become more accessible and so has the need for more unique and exciting experiences.
I’d like to think that we make conscious decisions every day. Decisions that impact others around us, the environment, wildlife, communities. Whether it is avoiding slave labour or plastic packaging in the products we purchase, or adopting a pet from a shelter instead of funding puppy farms, I believe we are all trying to live life with more awareness of the consequences of our decisions and choices.
This habit can extend to travel. Indeed, for many travelers, making a difference to the communities they visit, is a matter of priority, to others not so. Some want to fly somewhere, have a great time, leave their rubbish, and come home.
But for others, contributing to the lives of the locals, is of importance. Simple decisions can make a lasting impact to the communities we visit. You can have a wonderful holiday and make a difference to the country or community you visit. There are places that count heavily on tourism sustaining them, although sadly this also comes at a cost. Manipulation, corruption and greed, lead to taking advantage of the vulnerable, profiting from the victims of society. You can end up inadvertently contributing to slave labour, fake charities and poverty. Orphanage tourism is thriving in many poor countries.
I wanted to use my blog to highlight some of the ways in which you can help and to warn of some of the ways you can get drawn into unwittingly making things worse.
Below are some ideas to make a difference to the places you visit, but don’t stay here on my blog, go and search for yourself too. Grab pen and paper and let the ideas flow!
Volunteer with a reputable organisation to help in a wildlife reserve, children’s home, or environmental project. This article by Frommer’s has some fabulous ideas.
Teach or use a skill. Look for local organisations (always try to make sure they are genuine) who need some help. It could be teaching English to local kids or adults who need a bit of pronunciation help, or doing some plastering or repairs in poor homes. If you are a musician, entertainer or children’s performer, you can visit a hospital, hospice, nursing home or orphanage and bring some cheer. Make sure you have followed local protocol and legal procedures. Ensure that you are not causing more harm than good for example in the way you present something that back in your home country would be harmless. Take into account local religious and cultural traditions, taboo subjects and those suffering from trauma. Innocent remarks can reawaken memories of abuse, war and suffering.
Don’t fund cruelty or exploitation. Use your eyes and logic to consider carefully what you are about to indulge in. Performing animals in streets have usually been mistreated, beaten to submission or are being drugged to allow tourists to take photographs with them. Elephant rides are popular but how have they been trained? Donkey rides up perilous mountains may look fun but are those donkeys well taken care of? Are they being rested, forced to carry more weight than they should, do they have sores on their bodies? Are there unusual items on menus for novelty value that cause damage to oceans or wildlife? Are souvenirs damaging to local oceans or wildlife? Ivory objects are made from the ivory tooth of slaughtered elephants, natural sponges can be cultivated from oceans depriving fish of natural shelter. Swimming with turtles or dolphins may be the dream of a lifetime but at what cost? Ask yourself the questions and do your research.
Volunteer through reputable charities and organisations which will know how best to use your skills. Even if you don’t feel that you have any specific skills, being available to help can make a huge difference. Simple admin, cleaning, helping in a kitchen, organisation, etc, can contribute to organisations and projects in a worthwhile way. The charity Mercy Ships ran a hospital ship providing medical care to the impoverished in Africa. Skilled or unskilled volunteers who can commit to a minimum of 3 months can help in many ways including serving meals, cleaning, preparing food, processing patient information, sitting with the sick to provide comfort and encouragement. As long as you are willing, there is a way to help. This is an excellent thorough article again from Frommer’s with plenty of ideas and organisations you can contact for further information.
Take part in a race. Canada based husband and wife team Dave and Deb took part in The Tour d’Afrique cycling race to raise awareness of the work of Plan Canada, a charity that helps communities all over the world through the individual sponsorship of children. You can read about their trip here and explore their blog for more information.
If you love running and marathons are your thing, target some destinations where you can run a marathon and raise funds for a worthy cause.
Use your skills and money back at home to spread awareness and raise funds for the communities that impacted you while traveling. Involve your social media network, personal friends, your children’s school or home educating community, your colleagues and local community. Write about what you saw and what others can do. You may not be able to physically do something but one of the people who reads what you have written, may be inspired to take up the mantle.
SANFAN. A friend who was like a father figure to me and who passed away recently, used to say ” SANFAN – See a need, fill a need” He lived his life with that motto. Wherever there was a need, Dave would do whatever he could to fill it. He was a true and humbling inspiration to me.
Recently, my friend Ije who lives locally to me in the U.K, became involved in helping an orphanage in Nigeria. Her parents who live there, had visited the orphanage and were shocked at the poverty and lack of food, clothing and resources. Orphans, traumatised from witnessing the murders of their parents by Boko Haram, have been left at this couple’s home and before they knew it they had 50 children living with them. Not being able to turn any away, meant having no resources to care for them.
Without a second thought my friend Ije, started to pull together resources and used her social media network to ask friends in the UK to contribute children’s clothing and shoes they no longer needed. From that one action, within weeks, she has set up a registered charity, sent an enormous shipment of clothes, shoes and books and raised enough money to feed the children fresh, nutritious food for the next few months. And this is just the beginning. Her charity will now take care of the orphanage and ensure that those children never go hungry again, are taken care of, nurtured, loved and educated to stand proudly in their community and have a bright future. One working mother in a small town in North West England who saw a need and filled it. If you feel inspired to support her this is her website.
Donate. Budget into your holiday plan, a donation to a worthy cause in the country you are visiting. This may take shape in the form of a direct financial donation to a genuine organisation making a difference there. Alternatively, it may mean using the money to purchase a piece of much needed equipment like a sewing machine, chickens that produce eggs for a poor family, baby clothes for a women’s shelter, food for a local food bank, art supplies for a children’s home.
Sponsorship. You are probably well acquainted with the many organisations that help communities through the sponsorship of children. If you are impacted by a country you have visited and want to make a longer lasting difference, you can sponsor a child. The money you give will support the child and their family, educate the child and give them hope for the future. Usually, you will receive a letter from your sponsored child once or twice a year with their news and you can write back. For £20-£40 per month, you can change the life of one child in our world. How awesome is that?
Just do something. If your heart is willing to do something, then you will find what that something is for you. Make your travel count for something more, leave a lasting impact, a legacy however big or small, every drop counts to fill an ocean.
This is not a book review. This is a book chat. What’s the difference? I am not a critic of anyone’s writing unless I am admiring it. Improving my own craft is a big enough job I can tell you. But a book chat? Well, that’s a whole other matter. I love those. So let’s chat about books. Books about travel with a difference.
I have just finished a library book. Bringing Albert Home. I almost never read it. After taking it out on a whim, it sat on my table untouched. Each time I took it back to the library to hand it back, a little voice in my head said “read it first”. I learned to never ignore that voice especially when it comes to books. It has led me down some unlikely choices yet totally spot on for where I was in my life journey at the time.
So, I would renew the book and it would sit on my table until the next renewal date. Some months later I decided to read a few pages before returning it back for the last time. I was hooked and finished it within 3 days. Not one to like alligators, I fell in love with Albert the alligator who ‘smiled’ at those he liked, turned over for belly tickles and made a ‘yeah yeah yeah’ sound when happy. But it wasn’t Albert who kept me reading, or the random rooster that turned up uninvited and accompanied the couple on their adventure.
It was Elsie the young wife of Homer Hickam senior, the father of the author. Elsie is feisty, matter-of-fact, a dreamer. “I always wanted to be a …. insert whatever comes to mind”.
Set in 1930’s America, during the Great Depression, we relish in this story of a most incredible journey. And it starts with an argument between two newlyweds, in a West Virginia coal mining town.
Elsie is made to choose between her husband and her pet alligator since the two of them don’t get on very well. Albert the alligator has just eaten Homer’s trousers, while he was trying to do his business on the toilet. Homer can’t take it anymore, the jealousy between him and Albert has reached crisis point. Albert is coming between Homer and his beautiful new wife.
After three days of pondering her dilemma, much to Homer’s relief, Elsie chooses to keep her husband but on the condition that Albert is returned home to Orlando where he originally came from.
Thus begins the 2 week impeccably planned journey, that turns into a one year adventure filled with robberies, criminals, pirates, ghosts, hurricanes, fighting bad ju-ju, and two young people who are searching for the purpose of life.
In the first chapters, I wondered about the future in their marriage. This couple were so ill matched – Homer , a serious, honest, hard working man, happy with his lot and Elsie a feisty, adventurous romantic daydreamer – trying to do life in a coal mining town, with it’s relentless black dust everywhere, the noise of the coal train and the constant danger of losing a loved one in the mines. As I read on, I started to understand something quite profound. Through the unlikely happenings, Elsie and Homer, began to see that true love and adventure existed within them. They already had everything they needed right there in a small, smelly, dusty coal mining town. They may have disagreed about almost everything but eventually they saw that those differences where what made it work in its own quirky way. They also acknowledged inwardly (according to my own opinion), that they shared the same values. And I believe this is a key aspect for all relationships. Not our differences, not our disagreeing viewpoints, but sharing the same values and principles by which we live.
Some of my favourite quotes / extracts from the book.
Elsie: “It’s hard to fight a dream.” Homer answered, “and maybe harder to lose one.”
“Elsie always felt her life was like a jigsaw puzzle with no picture on the box to show her how the puzzle pieces should fit together.”
“They also didn’t have any food. There was even the possibility that they were being hunted by the police for being (a) witnesses to a bank robbery (during which he’d stolen a penny, (b) accomplices to the destruction of a sock mill, (c) knowledgeable of the possible murders of more than several unknown persons on a poet’s farm and (d) transporting illegal liquor along the thunder road. The end of his thoughtful sequence arrived at a singular conclusion:they were in a bad fix.”
For me an even deeper message hit home. Adventure awaits at every turn. We fantasize about crossing great oceans, wrestling pirates (or maybe not), tasting ethnic street food in exotic locations, experiencing thrills in high places and rafting down raging rivers. We can spend a lifetime looking for true love and be discontent with our ‘boring’ lives at home. Multi million pound businesses have been sustained on making peoples’ dreams come true whether through vision board workshops or life coaching sessions. We can seek and search for the thrills, the excitement, the adrenaline rush, the spiritual revelation, the meaning of life when all along it could be right there back where we started, in the place we least expected to find it. In the mundane, the daily grind, the emotional peaks and troughs. Adventure can become a form of escapism. The tougher deal is to find contentment in the small, ordinary things. Those we miss if we blink.
Our ‘perfect’ life can be staring us in the face right there at home. What we think will make us happy, can be the opposite of where we find contentment. Elsie set off to carry Albert home, but really she was finding herself. Determined that once in Florida she would never return to Coalville, she discovered that her happiness was in the person she was, and that she had a good man by her side even if he wasn’t the Hollywood movie star she daydreamed after. The things that vexed her about him, became the things she appreciated. This incredible, amazing journey, was to be the journey of finding themselves, what they wanted out of life and where that would be. Carrying Albert Home was in fact the journey of finding love in the unlikely places and contentment where they never expected.
There is one more notable point that struck me. As I reached the end of the book, I started to really wonder if any of the stories were true. Indeed, the author hints that even he can’t be certain. He began to write the book after his parents passed away and during their lives, they never admitted or denied the validity of the stories.
And yet it didn’t matter. In fact, I marveled while chuckling at their genius way of guiding their children through life. Each of the stories in the book, came out during challenging times for the author. Each time, during a conversation with one of his parents, he would hear “did I tell you when we….while carrying Albert home?” Each story would give him courage, hope, determination whether to push through a competitive sports game in school or while on his way to fight in the Vietnam war.
Did Homer and Elsie devise a plan to use throughout their child rearing years while having a lot of fun along the way? Was this their ingenious idea of making their ordinary life a little more extraordinary, exciting, mysterious? I guess we’ll never know but I know that I am exceedingly glad I have read this book. It has certainly brought to focus some of my own meanderings, conviction of my fault finding tendencies and appreciation of all that i have in my every day at times tiresome days. I absolutely recommend it.
If you told me in 2001, when I moved to the U.K with my Cypriot husband, that one day I would be living in a small Welsh village with a name I can’t pronounce, I wouldn’t have believed it.
And yet, here I am, 18 years later, living in Caergwrle.
There are two sights that warm my heart in a way that nothing else does. The ocean and mountains. Living on the Wirral peninsula for the last 18 years was hugely comforting to me because it meant being near the sea thousands of miles away from my beloved Mediterranean ocean yet somewhat comforting that I was nonetheless near the sea.
But 11 months ago, we found ourselves homeless and living on a friend’s alpaca farm in North Wales. Only us!
This meant living within sight of Moel Famau mountain with views to the valleys and the Welsh sheep grazing below. Wow. I didn’t realise then but it was to begin my new love affair with Wales and to condition me away from my beloved Wirral, preparing me to embrace a new season our lives were about to enter.
My children now aged 16, 11 and 7 didn’t want to leave Wirral.
“We’ll be too far from our friends!” they lamented even though we were just 30 minutes drive away. But to a child it may as well be hours away. The mere frustration of not being able to pop round to their friends, was enough to make them feel we were moving to the other side of the world.
My husband was working as a waiter at a Greek taverna in Birkenhead, Wirral, from 4pm until late and did some self employed coffee barista training work in between. While on the farm and sharing the one car, it meant I had to organise our daily home educating schedules and outings to be back by 3 so that husband could have the car. Then of course we had an old car that guzzled petrol and the long drives were damaging to the bank account.
Living in someone else’s home comes with its own challenges and I learned that smallholding wasn’t my thing despite how much I adore the alpacas, especially little Nugget, the cutest thing I have ever seen. I have highly sensitive hearing so the crowing rooster at the crack of dawn and all through the day, coupled with the quacking ducks was challenging to my (selfish) need for quiet.
The months were rolling by and we couldn’t find a home within our budget. Until one day, a friend asked if we would be interested in her parents’ house as they were moving into a bungalow and would be renting their home. The catch was that the house was in North Wales.
We jumped at the chance though and visited the house as soon as we could. Being the end of Autumn when trees were bare, brown sticks dangling off faded tree trunks and the village looking a bit sad and grey, we didn’t fail to notice that it was also nestled under a mountain which sprawled behind the house, rising high as if thousands of tree soldiers were standing guard over it. I was immediately drawn.
When the owner told me the mountain was called Hope, I knew this was the house for us. I instantly remembered months before, driving to an appointment and passing a road sign pointing to Hope. “I’d love to live in a place called Hope” I thought to myself.
Fate. Meant to be. God’s will…
It led me to an online search to find what Caergwrle means.
Fortress. Wow. A fortress at the foot of Hope mountain. It is meant to be, this is our home. But the children?
The house, last but one at the top of the hill, meant no passing traffic, safety for the children, quiet for me, and with spectacular views. Wonderful.
We entered in. 4 bedrooms. One for each of the children at last. They had never been able to have their own bedrooms. For them, that was the clincher that overlooked the 30 minutes drive to their friends.
For me the confirmation that this was our home came in a different form. While looking around and eagerly announcing we wanted to rent this house, the owner casually mentioned that he was planning to get rid of a desk that they didn’t need. “You don’t happen to have any use for it?”
I glanced at this ‘desk’ and was instantly moved to tears. The most magnificent old fashioned writing desk stood before me. What the owner didn’t know was that, firstly, I love to write, secondly I had never owned my own desk and thirdly, I had always wanted my own vintage writing desk JUST LIKE THAT ONE.
Done deal. But was it?
We agreed to rent this house. Weeks turned to months and frustrations grew as solicitors and red tape kept us longingly dreaming of our new home yet increasingly looking like it was not going to happen.
But just then, at the last minute, in the last week of the deadlines for things to fall into place, just as I was begrudgingly about to apply for another house – in the Wirral – I received that desperately awaited for message.
“The house is yours, we are moving out on Friday, you can move in at the weekend”
Delight doesn’t express how we felt. Within days we were in. It was end of March and by then, Caergwrle was wearing its new season clothes.
Trees covered in fresh caterpillar green foliage, longer days, blue skies with amazing candy-floss cloud formations.
When I open my windows in the morning, I hear birds singing and my lungs draw in the fresh misty dew. I take every opportunity to drink my coffee outside and look at the mountain.
I stand at my bedroom window admiring the castle ruins, imagining life as it would have been hundreds of years ago, the sounds of the blacksmith hammering the iron, the smell in the air from burning wood or coal and all that castle life entails.
Our dog Poppy, adores her walks up to the castle, or Hope mountain and all the others in between.
My little girl enjoys the local playgrounds, three within walking distance from the house. My middle child, confidently rides his scooter to the local skate park, stopping at the corner shop to buy sweets and chat to the friendly ladies behind the till.
On the same row of shops, you’ll find a vet, beautician, optician, carpet shop, sandwich shop, grocer, fish and chips, Chinese take away and more I haven’t discovered yet. The shops are small, with friendly owners and staff smiling as you pass by.
My favourite walk is to Honey’s cafe, a gem I discovered quite by chance on my return from Hope GP practice. Just before the train station, right next to the river, is this little cafe with homemade cakes, scones, food and beverages.
The afternoon tea overlooking the river is a treat to delight in. One day I went with the children and had forgotten they have a limit of £12 in order to use a credit card. I asked the lady if she would like me to leave my kids there while I run to the local shop to get cash out to pay my £5 bill.
“Don’t worry about it, pay me next time” she replied clearly not knowing if I would ever return having never seen me there before!
We have been in our new home for a few weeks. Boxes are still stacked hidden behind the sofa. The garden needs weeding. We are not the most green fingered people. We need to buy recycling bins to separate the rubbish.
I make coffee. My favourite Mexican blend that my husband brings home freshly ground from his new job, a coffee roastery and supplier.
Propped up on the stone steps in my garden – we need garden furniture too- I reflect and one by one I count my blessings.
I could look at the last year with ingratitude and pain at the stress of nine months of homelessness, uncertainty, doubts, the feelings of failing our family, the extreme testing of our marriage and subsequent crisis.
Or, I could look at this last year as the path that led to our new home and new season in life. In these last months, we have known generosity like never before. What person offers you her home for your family of five while she lives in her caravan so as to accommodate you? What kind of friend sees your need and puts herself out of her own home in order to fill your need not once complaining, not pressurising, not making you feel awkward?
I have known that kind of friend. My family and I have been privileged to know a friend that loves us and cares for us as if we were her own family. I have known the meaning of true unconditional love and friendship. The laying down of one’s life for her friends. Priceless.
The smaller things? Those too.
We were able to buy a newer more comfortable and more economical car. Wow!
My husband got a new job as sales and training manager for an amazing small coffee roastery and it comes with a work car! No more car sharing and he does what he loves. Boom.
We are in a home we love, we have peace. We are safe and happy. Invaluable.
The railway station minutes form our home takes the boys all the way to Wirral direct so even if I can’t take them, they can go see their friends. Joy.
I can sit in my bed and look at the mountain outside of my window while I write, listening to bird song. A dream.
My daughter has made a new friend and she is the best friend she has ever had. They have become so close they are like sisters. I know these friendships. They are those that last the ages, these two will grow old together, tell stories, reminisce of the endless hours they spent in each other’s homes playing. Bliss. Double bonus, her mum has become a treasured friend to me too. Amazing.
I keep on listing, each blessing, each thing I am grateful for, my heart swelling with content pleasure.
But I am also reminded that none of it would have happened, if I were not willing to step out of the old and into the uncertain new. Change can be a frightening prospect. The what if’s can be debilitating so we stay where we know and feel safe. But we miss the new. We miss all the what if’s and more. We miss the learning and growth that comes in the dark moments.
The testing of my marriage taught me perseverance, forced me to examine myself, my heart, my faults and unrealistic expectations. It taught him that I am strong but fragile at the same time. The crisis took us to places we hadn’t explored before and showed us how much we mean to each other. How we are willing to sacrifice for each other. And that we needed boundaries as much as needed to let go of things that were holding us back.
It took nine months to move into our new home. It takes nine months for a new life to form inside a woman. The end of the pregnancy, uncomfortable, irritating, exhausting, desperate to just get that baby out.
Then the birth, excruciating before the drunken joy of delivery, relief, exaltation, deliriously ecstatic.
Change can be like pregnancy and childbirth. Change brings it all, tests you on all counts and brings out the best and the worse in you. But change brings also transformation.
The last nine months was not a bed of roses but then again a caterpillar does not become a butterfly unless it goes through the pain of transformation into the new.
Caergwrle is in the county of Flintshire, North Wales. Most famous for it’s castle ruin and stunning country walks. There is plenty to do around Flintshire, from beaches, country parks, castles, manor homes and estates, leisure centres, shopping and even an indoor ice skating rink in Deeside. For more information and to build your itinerary visit the following sites.
1998 or thereabouts. I’m sitting on the bench in front of the lighthouse, my legs dangling just above the cliff. My trusted German shepherd dog Leo is sitting by my side. Gazing at the vast ocean in front of me, I wonder at many things. The silent tears betray my broken heart, my searching gaze echoes the questions on my mind, the comfort I feel in this place mirrors the state of my soul.
This time, I am here following a row with my boyfriend. It is one that will lead us to question if it is all over, as he puts it “if the glass is cracked beyond repair”. I ask myself this as I gaze.
I come here every time my heart breaks. It is the place I escape to where I know I can be alone, my solitude allowing for reflection, focus, thoughts to process, emotions to flow through tears.
My relationship with the ocean is one of love, hate, fear and reverence. I fear it because of its might, the power within it, the vastness of undiscovered wonders beneath the untamed fierceness. I hate it because it claimed the life of my father all those years ago when I was just 4. Because of it, I lost my mother as well and then my life took such a sudden turn towards years of inexpressible pain, torment, emptiness, aloneness. Before that, the three of us sojourned the seas in search of adventure.
And yet, I can’t live far from it. Whenever I am hurting I run to it. I crave after Its salty smell and the sting of its wind on my face, the sound of the waves crashing on the shore, seagulls cawing, children laughing as they play.
I don’t know it now, here in my sorrow and confusion, in my bitterness and anger but one day, years from now, I will be back here. 21 years later, I will be back, the boyfriend has become my husband and our three children are the ones playing and laughing on this beach. My trusted dog has long gone and instead, a small rescue poodle – cross, (ironically rescued from a Greek beach some years back), waits for us patiently in England.
And in between? Sigh. I smile. In between…
While this once derelict secluded spot has been undergoing major development, stunning villas with swimming pools being built where I once walked through the wild daisies, a hip cafe perched on the corner waiting for thirsty customers, the land of Pervolia behind me growing into a holiday village complete with a beautiful hotel, I have been undergoing my own development and growing my own little tribe. In between, there has been the aching of land being dug up and formed into holiday lets, while I ached through my own challenges, and rejoiced at my incredible moments.
Each time I am in Cyprus, I visit Faros, the lighthouse. We age side by side, together. In silence, we gaze at the expanding azure watching as it blends fluid with the lighter blue sky and marvel in awe at the magnificence of it all.
The famous Faros (Lighthouse) Beach of the Larnaka village of Pervolia is a 500-metre strip of fine sands of varying shades of beige, calm, shallow seawaters and ample trees and greenery. It is located just south of Pervolia at Cape Kiti. Facilities on the beach include toilets, showers, changing rooms, sun beds, umbrellas, dustbins, recycling bins and a children’s playground. Lifeguards with lifesaving equipment and first aid services are stationed at the beach from June 15 – September 30, 10:00-18:00. The beach offers disabled access. Various forms of marine life are visible in the deeper waters, including sea bass, sea bream, parrotfish, grey mullet, crabs and octopus. The beach also incorporates a protected seaweed area. There are also various water sports available along the coast and a small volleyball court, as well as food and drink options, making it a good choice for both families and younger crowds. The lighthouse itself is picturesque, and a famous monument of the area. Access is easy by foot, bike, bus or car, with car parking facilities, cycling trails and walking trails. The beach also offers disabled access.http://larnakaregion.com/page/beaches
This may seem obvious but truly how often have we come up with an idea, made a decision to start something new only to sit on it for months or even years.
Procrastination and false starts have been part of my story.
Today, however, I turn the page and take a step towards another start. This blog. What’s different this time? This time I am being myself. This time, I am taking an even bolder step to write as I do from the heart through stories.
I love stories. And I love to travel. In the last 22 years, I have moved 18 times.
Life is a journey, that is true and my journey has taken place mostly between two places. The Wirral Peninsula in England and Southern Cyprus. Two oceans separate my two homes, a piece of my heart in each, so here, I begin a new way of navigating this journey by inviting you into my world to meet the people and experience the places that hold such a special place in my soul.