Food, Fear and Ferries

Well, hello again!

I thought that I'd use this post to share one of the more significant aspects of my move - namely, food. 

There's the food from home that I can't get over here (including Percy Pigs, from the joy that is M&S... oh, how I miss M&S...).

Then there's the food over here that I don't understand (vegemite - I mean, no. Just no).

Ach. But both of these experience can be glossed over when face with the prospect of new food. I mean, 

completely new food. An unchartered gastronomic experience. How exciting is that?!  Although it also brings with it the dread of looking like an idiot as all of the natives / non-foreigners as I call them (yes, I am tremendously un-PC) look at you aghast as you cross-question the waiter / cafe guy about what exactly something is. But anyone who's ever had a traumatic experience with food (which, in my experience, is most people) knows that cross-questioning is the only answer. That, and an epi pen. (I joke - food allergies are serious. But so is being served up herring, when the waiter has only previously mentioned "A very light, delicate fish"... yeah. Right.)

So where was I? Oh yes, new food. Now, one of the things about my new job, is that the hours are off the charts. I'm in at 7:30am, and don't leave before 6pm - which is better than some places, but a whole lot worse than others. Now, the fact that I enjoy it is a good thing. The fact that I get in before I even want to eat brekkie (come on people, let's get down with the Aussie slang) is a bad thing. And then I discovered our foodhall. And the Bircher Muesli which lay within. A breakfast which, ironically, is European - and yet which I have never, ever seen in London / Europe in general before.

Bircher Muesli is exciting on a whole new scale. It's oats, soaked in apple juice, cinammon, nutmeg and yoghurt, left overnight, then eaten next day with dried and fresh fruit, and a dash of honey. Oh yeah. It's good. Although now I start to wax lyrical about it, I realise that I sound like a very sad person. Oh well. I could only keep up the facade for so long.

So, time to move on to something more interesting. There's the barramundi... no, I can't write a post about fish, however good it is. That really is scraping the barrel (literally... get it... I mean, it's not the barrel it's the sea, but... oh forget it).

Ok, perhaps it's time to forget food altogether. 

In truth, my dear readers, there's been little in the way of weirdos, or strange incidents. There's been a random Zionist on my ferry each day, trying to get me to move back to the Fatherland / Motherland (why are siblings excluded? What about Sisterland? Or Brotherland?). Sadly, my enormous propensity to eat pork products and anything (well, everything) forbidden, closed that conversation quick-sharp. Shame. There's been the toenail clipper-er on that very same ferry (who does indeed, disgustingly, clip his toenails whilst we're all in transit together. Ewww).

But no, not much else. Life right now is a mad balancing act of keeping work together, keeping myself fed and watered (a task I can genuinely forget to do), and remembering friends back home (although I could never forget them) whilst trying to make new friends here.

The weird thing is, I've realised in recent days what I'm scared of. I'm scared of not having a good time, not enjoying it, and wanting to go home tomorrow. I'm scared it will all just peter out into nothing, and I'll be 12,000 miles from home and feeling like I've gotten it all wrong.

And then, I'm also scared I will enjoy it. That I won't want to come home. That I'll be so happy here, I won't be able to contemplate a return trip ever.

So, what have I decided to do with my split-personality dilemma? In truth: nothing. Or rather, I'm trying to laugh at myself, because really this is becoming ridiculous now.  It's time to step away from the Kleenex. (I joke, my Kleenex dependence is very reduced right now. Hurray) And just in case of homesickness, I'm trying to give myself more me time, as a way of self-calming (which in truth, I don't really need. I'm trying to not feel the fear, and do it anyway. Isn't that a maverick, but so much better, approach?!). 

All of us need our me-time. Some of us take it in the bath. Some in front of the TV, with HobNobs (alas, I miss McVities!) and Hot Chocolate. Some of us take it sitting on the loo, reading magazines. Personally, I refuse to comment which camp(s) I fit into.

What I will say is this. That a little tub of Bircher Muesli (yes, we're back to that) and a view of a hot man in a wet wetsuit is my little piece of heaven. It's my Muller Corner, Diet Coke moment, and Galaxy (to continue with the food theme) rolled into one. And any country I can enjoy that in, means that whatever my worries are - they're probably / definitely pretty insignificant. 

In seriousness - as much as I can expound and dramatise my life and my move, I'm aware of so much more going on at a global, national and local level. I may be a drama queen. But even I know if the show's really a Broadway production or not.

Boys and girls, so end my thoughts for today. 

For those who wish to learn, please find below my Bircher Muesli recipe. For those who don't wish to learn - I have nothing to say. Go, frolic, have fun, and live in a world without Bircher Muesli. You will never know how much you're missing out on. 

Love,

Belle x

Belle's Bircher Muesli

• 1 cup rolled oats
• 1/2 cup fresh apple juice 
• 1/2 cup yoghurt (Greek style... I may be un-PC at times, but even I know the superior yoghurt masters)
• handful currants or sultanas (sulphur free or you bloat. Trust me)
• handful chopped dried apricots (still sulphur free)
• a sprinkling of ground nutmeg
• a sprinkling of ground cinnamon
• some seasonal berries and chopped nuts (if you can be bothered)
• some honey, to serve (if you want)

Method:
Combine the rolled oats (that's how they roll... oh yeah...), juice, yoghurt, currants or sultanas, chopped aprictos, nutmeg and cinnamon in a large bowl and stir together. Chill overnight. The next day add the berries and nuts to the top. Eat. Enjoy. Stop reading on the toilet. The end.