Supermarket Sweep

We got a surprise letter this week to say that Ian had been paid 24 glorious post-tithe pounds for holiday pay from his temporary job that he did for not even 3 weeks last year. Since it was holiday pay, we decided to spend it on something enjoyable rather than crediting it towards something boring like rent.

We were therefore faced with a difficult choice. Do we use it to see Munich, the new Spielberg movie, therefore gaining a renowned director’s perspective on the human side of a significant historical and social event? Do we use it to sample some strange new cuisine in a rare opportunity to visit one of the region’s many excellent restaurants? Or do we blow it all on snacks? A complex and thought-provoking conundrum, but we went with the obvious answer for a couple of our intellectual and culturally attuned prowess. Snacks.

We made it to the supermarket with 24 minutes to go until closing. 24 minutes, 24 pounds. It was like winning a major award, a wild shopping spree! What, you may very well ask, did we buy? What would you buy if faced with the same pressurized situation?

Kristy headed directly for the Innocent Strawberry and Banana smoothie. Ian tossed in some hot cross buns from the bakery. We made our way through the store with uncanny swiftness and agility as if we had a premeditated dream snack list prepared months in advance. We took it in turns to venture into new and exciting territory; the bakery’s lethal array of tempting desserts, the potato chip isle (Ian’s promised land), and mysterious isle 9, shrouded in mystery and superstition, an isle to which neither of us had previously dared to venture. The snack isle. Strawberries, salt and vinegar potato chips, a box of microwave popcorn, and expensive olives all made their cholesteroley way into our basket, followed by a gourmet berry cheesecake, smoked salmon, and a can of rambutan. Before we knew it, we were down to our final choices with only minutes to spare. Ian swift made for the gingernut cookies, while Kristy sprinted down the drink isle for a decadent box of mint hot chocolate. With only 96p remaining and a “go home now we’re closing” vibe emanating from the surly store attendants, we grabbed two Cadbury cream eggs and slid through the checkout with our hoard. It was a beautiful display of razor-sharp decision-making and physical dexterity and we will taste the fruits of our success for weeks to come.

And the moral of the story is, when faced with a choice between education, experience, and gluttony, always go for gluttony, but rationalize it as an educational experience.

Being Glad for the Oasis

Perhaps the most difficult aspect of coming to England has been, in an ongoing sense, departing Japan. There are days when we look back to Okinawa to see the life we had standing out in sharp relief, directly proportional to the extent that we don't have it here.

That is not to say that life in England is unpleasant or that we have made a mistake in coming here. For me, this has been a significant step forward with the new counseling job, some amazing refugee volunteer work, and great opportunities for study, training and further volunteering on the horizon that would never have been possible had we stayed in Japan. It has been somewhat more difficult for Kristy, but she has been selected for an intensive TESOL course this month and should soon have access new opportunities for work and development. It's just a matter of time.

However, perhaps the human tendency is always to look back. To see not what we have gained, but what we have lost in moving forward.

What are some of the things we have lost that I miss most? Friendship with people who shared our experience of living in a foreign country. Easy and inexpensive access to isolated subtropical islands. Being familiar enough with the region to know where the good restaurants are, and having enough surplus income to be able to frequent them. Freedom from many cultural expectations through being perceived to reside, to a degree, outside the dominant culture.

This is life at each major junction. We depart from a long-fostered familiarity brimming with memories, and turn to face a future empty but for the latent potential that exists within it. It is a cold move to make, but did the place we now depart not once appear the same? Dreams drive us ever forward, but if we do grasp at greater things, then why do we despair even as we climb? Why do we always look back to what we had in the good old days?

Perhaps it's because we reach forward not into light, but into darkness. The only thing we can know for sure is where we have been, and when we tread uncertain paths, it is not the pennies and dimes of the past that we desire so much as the solid ground. It is difficult to believe that the path ahead will be clear and safe unless we already stand on a guarantee.

But this is the life of the modern adventurer, the Alan Quatermains of the 21st Century. Venturing out from the stream of society into uncharted territories of experience and drawing the maps as we go. The lack of certainty is part of the attraction, for what would Everest be if every climber had assurance of a safe route to the summit? And to succeed is to conquer, to stretch out beyond complacency and grasp at a life that seems out of reach, to lay claim to the dreams we fostered before the realities of the world replaced them with tarnished shells.

The mirage of images past is but a temptation to relinquish the dream. It is an illusion that we could ever return, so let us instead be glad for the oasis where we rested, yet never look back, but to follow the star until morning.

Ian