Coming home

We were all so excited about coming to New Zealand.

The kids because they got 13 hours on a plane, each with their own TV.

Shoshi, because it was a dream of hers to get here.

Me, because I'd always wanted to see for myself if the water really went down the plughole in the opposite direction in the Southern Hemisphere.

The kids got their wish.

Shoshi has been on Cloud 9 since we arrived on 10th March.

Me - well, it's true, it does.

But I found the first couple of days in NZ to be pretty tough.  Not because it isn't stunningly beautiful, not because it is tough to travel here.  Quite the opposite.  It feels pretty much like being back in Scotland.  The language, how the people look, the food, place names, supermarkets, driving on the left hand side, tree covered mountains, salt & vinegar crisps, sheep and cattle everywhere.

It feels like home.

And after 4 months in Asia, I wasn't ready for such a 'culture shock'.

I don't want the familiar.  I have become used to the unfamiliar, not understanding, having to explain things using sign language, trying to decipher the menu, Google Translate, chopsticks, motorbikes and noise.

There is something very enjoyable about not understanding, it allows you to live in a bubble as much of what is going on around is just filtered out. As they say, ignorance is bliss.

Arriving in New Zealand, I lost that privilege.

I understand everything.

It feels a little like coming home.

Just on the other side of the world.