13. Long Time, No Speak

Hi friends, I bet you didn’t expect to see a note from me in your inbox this morning.

It’s been a long time since we last caught up, and I spent hours talking to you about our travels, like an old friend on the phone. Since we last spoke in August, we’ve concluded our European travels. In 2023, Mathew and I visited 18 countries, spent 220 living out of two 40L backpacks, tackled language barriers, worked remotely and ate more tomato pasta and tuna sandwiches than I care to admit.

Now, we’re home. And back to the real world. You might think that the last year passed me by in a flash, but that’s one of the most incredible things about writing. You immortalise your experiences and get to read back on them years into the future. When travelling, you forget the little things so quickly: the apprehensive anxiety, the first night in a new country, how it felt to laugh as the sun beat down on your face, and the smell of the ocean a million miles away from home. So, I always think that even if no one read my writing and it was only for me, I’d still do it for the rest of my life.

Our travels will look a bit different in 2024. But that doesn’t mean my notes to home are no longer. I’ve got about a million diary entries to upload, travel recommendations, notes to home and country guides ready to hit your inbox. We’ll also explore our own back garden, spend nights camping and I’d like to take up hiking. As I’m sure you can tell, I have an Aotearoa bucket list longer than the length of my arm.

So, all of this is to say thank you for still being here. 2023 was one of the most memorable and precious years of my life – I’m so pleased to share it with all of you.

Now, let me take you back to August of last year…

Wednesday 9th August

This morning, we were up bright and early with the sun (!!!!) to tackle the drive down to Brighton.

I’ve been craving a day by the sea, and I am so pleased the weather has finally delivered on its promise of a good beach day. In New Zealand, we’re spoilt for beaches. Our home is no more than ten minutes from more beaches than I could count on two hands, so being so ‘land-locked’ has been a big change. Living away from easy access to the beach has made me realise how much I love it: soft sand between your toes, the sun, the smell of the sea breeze, and open nothingness for miles and miles. My head always feels clearer after spending the day there.

We arrived in Brighton just before lunch and beelined straight for a sunny spot by the sea. Most children in England are on school holidays, so everywhere we go is packed. The beach is no different, but there is something nice about hearing the screaming laughter of kids in and amongst seagulls and waves crashing on the shore.

After wasting away three hours in the sun, we had our lunch as the clouds moved in (typical) and then packed up. There’s this really cool part of Brighton and Hove called The Lanes. They’re a maze of alleyways and streets lined with every shop imaginable. From souvenirs and vintage stores to clothing boutiques, cafes and gift shops – you name it, it’s here.

We had visited Brighton on the day AFTER the annual Brighton Pride Festival, so the streets were crawling with people. People of every description imaginable packed themselves into The Lanes until the roads were almost at bursting point. And when I say every description, I mean it. This must be the place to go if you want actual representation and a view (as far as the eye can see!!!) of lovely-looking people who look like YOU. I feel like I’m in my element amongst crowds of other tourists and people soaking up the sun, darting in and out of every shop, and the sound of infectious laughter in the air. It’s so bloody lovely.

We kept meandering through the shops before heading back towards the seaside for dinner. The sun has made a miraculous return and is back in full force. The air has that delicious Friday afternoon feeling on a Wednesday that makes everyone so happy. I suppose that’s what the school holidays do! More sandwiches were on the menu for dinner (a round of applause for us for keeping our travel budget intact, thank you). Mine was regular size and Mathews the size of my forearm and large enough to give Subway a run for its money.

Before heading back to the car and tackling the drive home, we made an obligatory stop off at Brighton Pier. I remember coming to arcades with my Mum and Dad when I was little. I used to love spending hours treading 2p coins through the slot machine, hoping that this was the coin that would tip over the leading tower of copper and bring me my riches. Not wanting to deprive Mathew of this core childhood memory, we cashed in some pounds and spent an hour trying to get rich quickly.

Our efforts were not, as you can imagine, fruitful. But it was a lot of fun! Then, after a wander around the pier, we said goodbye to the beach and drove home through the sunset, relaxed and very, very happy.

Thursday 10th August

Another day, another busy activity on the cards! This time, we’re off to go and see my mum’s side of the family. This time in England has largely been catching up with family and showing Mathew around the place I used to call home. I talk a lot about growing up overseas and moving far away at a young age. When you’re little (I moved when I was 10), you’re too young to remember what life was like. Christmases and family dinners, holidays, days out and time with your Grandparents all blur into one big, distant bubble. I can vividly remember my childhood in England, but when I think about it, it feels the same way the world sounds when you’re underwater and hear someone talking to you. You can hear voices, but you can’t make out the words. It just doesn’t feel the same as my childhood in New Zealand. Does that make sense? So, to some people, not seeing your family every week or month might seem unfathomable. To me, that seems like a regular, routine part of life. Dinners out get swapped for three-week holidays worldwide, and time spent together gets condensed so that it’s much more quality time than quantity. When you temporarily live together, you get to see each other in a way that you wouldn’t had you just visited for dinner. I’d also note that I’ve never felt as though I’ve missed out on anything. I suppose I’ve always thought that seeing your grandparents once a month is like spending twelve days of the year together. We see our family once a year for three weeks at a time, which is twenty-one days of the year. See where I’m going with this?

Side note for anyone thinking about moving overseas: Do it. If I’ve said it once, I’ve said it one hundred times: moving our family to New Zealand was hands down the best thing my Mum and Dad have ever done—no question about it.

Anyway, what I’m trying to say is that after growing up so far apart, it’s strange to be able to pop in and see my family any time I like. So, I’m taking full advantage of the novelty and writing this to you sitting as Passenger Princess in the car as Mathew and I fly down the motorway to spend another lovely day with my family.

Before meeting up, Mathew and I decided to go to Windsor to stretch our legs. We both wanted to revisit the Long Walk, which I think I’ll now forever know as the place Mathew and I spent our first-day full-time travelling. The last time we were here was when we landed in England on the 18th of May, 2023. We were both SO out of it, comically disorientated, jet-lagged, confused and walking as though we were on autopilot, simply putting one foot in front of the other. I remember feeling like I couldn’t believe what we had gotten ourselves into. The lead-up to our trip was a bit of a whirlwind, and at the time, I was so worried about being sad when we left that I didn’t give myself much time to process what we were doing. I was a homebody packing our bags to leave on a one-way ticket across the world, not knowing when I’d see my Mum and Dad again. If I had stopped and allowed myself to think about what we were doing, I’d want to stay and never get on the plane. So, after seeing our family, we took ourselves out for the day. No plans or expectations, just the company of each other to decompress, soak up our new lives and take it all in. I remember not being able to believe what we had gotten ourselves into. I was scared, nervous, and apprehensive, and I felt fiercely protective of Mathew as it was my idea to go travelling. But at the same time, I felt so excited at the prospect of not knowing what the future held.

Now, almost three months on, I no longer feel scared. We’ve grown to be much more independent and confident in our abilities. Sure, there have been wobbles and bad days and confusing times, but the last (almost) 100 days have been more wonderful than I could have ever imagined they would be, and I’m so excited about the rest of our travels!!

We continued to walk and talk until Mathew decided it was time for a rest and found us a shady tree to sit under. After a couple of lovely relaxing hours soaking up the late-summer weather, we walked back to the car past The Two Brewers Pub (check out the photos below for three months ago vs today!) and over to Nan’s house. A spot of obligatory grandchild duties was on the cards this afternoon, so we busied ourselves mowing the lawn and weeding her front garden. It seems silly, but I’ve always wanted to be able to do stuff like this for my Nan!

Tonight, we head out to dinner with Nan, Christine and Lewis. Mathew (an avid roast dinner fan) has never been to a carvery. So, tonight, I introduced him to his first every Toby Carvery, and I must say, it was a hit. Unlimited veg? Sign me right up!!

After dinner, we said goodbye to Nan and Christine (but not for long; we’re returning tomorrow) and drove back to Grandma’s house through the sunset to sleep off our roast dinner food comas. See you tomorrow!

Friday 11th August

On a rare occasion, the weather in England is sunny. Today was one of those days, so we bundled ourselves into the car and drove to Saville Gardens for a walk in the sun – yum!!

We met up with Nan and Christine just before midday and headed over, dogs in tow, for a long walk in the sun. I used to come to Saville Gardens when I was little and have such lovely memories of being here with the school. I had the world’s BEST Year Four teacher at my primary school. I went to The Royal School in Windsor Great Park. Now and again, we’d have school trips to Saville Gardens, learning about the plants and gardening, or in my fondest memory, we tossed blankets down onto the grass and had a picnic.

After parking the car (and having an aneurysm after seeing that parking was TEN POUNDS for THREE HOURS), we walked through the park and over to the Polo Fields. There’s a lovely cafe, which is today’s stop for lunch. Mathew opted for the world’s smallest quesadilla and a bowl of chips. Luckily for him, Lewis, my cousin, had taken it upon himself to indulge his eyes, which were bigger than his stomach and had ordered two rounds of cheese salad wraps. One tiny quesadilla, beer, cheese wrap and a bowl of chips later, we walked back through the park, passing countless naughty dogs who had lobbed themselves into nearby ponds and back to the car.

Instead of returning to Grandma’s this afternoon, we stopped at Christine’s for a cup of tea and a quick sit in the sun on her patio. Our quick sit down turned into an hour, two, and then three. By the time 5:30 pm rolled around and my Uncle got home from work, I thought it was high time we made ourselves scarce!

Saturday 12th August

Today, we had what Mathew has affectionately coined a “day for the soul”. You might be thinking of a spa retreat. No. In his books that means a day in bed, in front of his favourite TV show, complete with his favourite food (the current obsessions are: honey on toast, jumbo-size blueberries, Yorkshire tea and Galaxy chocolate). What can I say? You can’t argue with that.

Lately, I’ve been feeling tired. Do you ever feel knackered but in a way that a long sleep won’t fix? It’s more of an emotional, burnt-out sort of feeling than a “I need a sleep” feeling. I think it’s probably a combination of travel fatigue, taking in SO many new things and socialising to our little hearts’ content recently. I love it, but it comes with a certain “exhaustion-inducing” quality. Therefore, I was secretly very pleased when a “do nothing day” was suggested, and I have spent close to four and a half hours engrossed in the latest Harry Potter audiobook. If I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a hundred times: Stephen Fry is the best thing that has ever happened to JK Rowling’s books. He’s a legend.

After spending more than enough time in bed, we decided to move our legs with a walk around Finchamstead. Since downloading All Trails in Madeira, Mathew has made it his mission to tick off as many walks on the app as possible. Today’s number took us around a lake, through blackberry bushes and across farmland, where we met the world’s friendliest (or most inquisitive) horse. Our new friend followed us for ten minutes, by which time I began thinking we’d gained an extra travel companion and were going to need to chuck the back seats down to make room for him in the boot.

Mathew and I opted for a park bench picnic dinner a la M&S Chicken Salad and BLT sandwiches tonight. I’ve had a lot of sandwiches in my life, but these are some of the best, without a doubt. Back home in New Zealand, we do a lot of cheapo date night car picnics (usually with Subway – god I miss Subway – or sushi from our local sushi shop – good god I miss sushi more), so we felt right at home.

And now, I’ve got a full tummy and am sleepy from a day in the sun. So, I’ll see you tomorrow. Night night!

Sunday 13th August

The following two days of our lives passed in a blur of Sunday lunches, long-overdue exercise (no one tells you how much you’ll miss structured exercise) and early birthday presents. However, it’s the first two actual days of our lives since leaving home in which we weren’t running, sightseeing and trying to cram as much into 16 hours as possible.

Sunday came around and living in a Whittaker household that can only mean one thing: a long lunch in the form of roast dinner. Boy, my grandma knows how to cook. She is in the kitchen, and I in the sink (a cook always needs someone to act as their KP and whirl around picking up dirty bowls as soon as they hit the table). I have many, many memories of being a child at Grandma and Grandpa’s house. However, no memory so prominent as those in which Grandma was shouting at us children to get out of the kitchen before we hurt ourselves, ruined dinner (or worse) knocked her over as she produced boiling goose-fat roast potatoes from the oven. So, being on the other side of the ledger was a new experience and one I hope to have time and time again.

At 1 pm, we all sat down and tucked into lunch, accompanied by two friends. Wendy is my Grandparent’s best friend and one of the dearest people I have ever met. I’ve met her more times than I can count and have great memories of sitting at the bottom of her (huge) back garden and playing with her Grandchildren. The other friend is a new addition whom I haven’t met before and a vicar. He’s kind, humorous, and polite beyond words and he only asked Mathew and me if we were having a church wedding three times. I call that a win.

After a lunch that rolled into dinner, we said goodnight and went to bed to plan our next adventure. We’ve got four weeks in England before we head north to Scotland, and I’ve got big plans to (try) and show Mathew as much of this country as possible.

Monday 14th August

The novelty of a distinct lack of ‘Monday-itis’ is still yet to wear off. Gone are the slow, begrudging Monday mornings spent trying to muster the motivation to turn on the coffee machine and get some bloody work done. These days, I have a job I love (another thing no one tells you is how much your perspective on work will change once you’re doing something you’re passionate about), and every day feels like a Saturday. However, that does mean that we’ve lost the delicious Friday feeling. You know, the one you get after a long, tiring work week. There’s a buzz in the air as the clock strikes 2 pm on Friday, and you know you’re counting down the minutes to the weekend and days spent in the sun, surrounded by your friends. Or if you’re like Mathew, days spent cramming in every bit of work around the house and garden possible. Ah, the life of an active relaxer.

Instead of setting out to work, I set out on a run this morning, intending to lap the local town and get some serious kilometres under my feet. I don’t know who I thought I was kidding. Still, it seems that three months without any structured exercise (minus the ridiculous number of steps we do each day) will eat away at your fitness and stamina faster than you can say ‘race’. My run turned into a walk, and I looped back on myself to pick Mathew up from home (a stretch of your legs never hurts anyone). We headed into town – Mathew to have a haircut and I to peruse the cooking section of Waterstones, planning to drop my life savings on beautiful books I definitely can’t transport home.

When I was a little girl, I had big visions of what would make me tick as an adult. Cooking has always been at the top of my list, but designer handbags, glamorous makeup and lots of money in my bank account were things I (foolishly at age 8) thought would make me tick. However, as an adult, I was right in those things – but not in the way you might think. I’ve swapped designer handbags for Osprey backpacks, glamorous makeup for layers and layers of SPF and walking boots and lots of money in my bank account for, well, a rapidly dwindling bank account being spent on travelling the world. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Funny how life turns out, huh?

A slow Monday rolls into Tuesday and before I know it, we’re back in the car returning to Windsor.

Tuesday 15th August

We’ve been back in England for a little over two weeks, and I can already tell that this month will be a lot slower than the others. The jury is still out on whether or not that’s a good thing; slowing down and adjusting to the distinct lack of ‘new cultural experiences’ has taken some getting used to. Still, it sure is nice to be able to go to the grocery store and not scan everything with Google Translate’s photographic lens. My feet are itching to plan the next thing, go and explore another destination and fill our days with travelling. However, I’ve promised myself I’ll take each day as it comes, and after all, we have a budget, a 365-day plan and the Schengen Zone to abide by.

So we’ve booked out today with Nan and Christine. This time, we’ve chosen a walk around Eton and into Windsor – something I can’t remember having done since I was very little.

The sun is shining, which is delicious. We walk through Eton town into Eton College. The buildings are insane, and I can only imagine what it’s like to attend school here – I suspect a far cry from my days at Auckland’s finest, Long Bay College.

If you know me, you’ll see that I believe that embarrassment is a choice. It’s a social and personal construct; if you don’t actively allow yourself to feel embarrassed, you’ll simply be able to move on. However, even I have my limits. As we head out of Eton College and toward the river, Christine spots a man out of the corner of her eye. He’s two stories up in one of the teacher’s residential buildings, on the phone and stark naked. Quicker than I can say knife, she’s looped my arm in hers, pivoted on the spot and dragged us back for another look. Subtly? No chance. She’s shouting up at him and waving through the window. I could have just about died. But you know what they say; you either have a naked neighbour, or you are the naked neighbour. So, I suppose you could say he had it coming.

Resuming our walk, we slowly meander through Eton fields and back into town, stopping at Costa Coffee for lunch. Chicken salad sandwiches and coffee are calling my name, and I tell you, Costa serves up the world’s largest cups of joe.

A lazy afternoon turns into a spontaneous boat ride down the River Thames (!!!!). Lewis is in charge of the drivers seat and Nan is in the back, getting tossed around as he does donuts down the river. I couldn’t make it up. Our evening culminates in another stop off at Christines to drop her off and then Mathew and I take Lewis and Nan out for dinner before catching up on some more shut eye – you’d think all we did is relax, huh!

See you next week x

Notes to Home