Visiting Vancouver, British Columbia

Addendum:

Well, travelling home to the UK I met two lovely chatty Canadian women who enlightened me that I had not seen Vancouver at all. I had spent two weeks in New Westminster, a different city to Vancouver. They enlightened me that I had not seen beautiful Vancouver and that is why I had been so confused and not enamored with the locality at all. They showed me pictures of beaches and mountainous terrain that was stunning. Now it all began to make better sense and I felt I was not going mad. It was further highlighted by my Virgin flight companion, Tanya, who again reiterated what I had missed out on and showed me beautiful pictures of her own stay in the real Vancouver. It was a long way to travel and not be immersed in the real beauty of Vancouver.

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Sorry to anyone I may have offended or insulted with this particular blog...but sadly this was my experience of the Vancouver I ended up in!

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Nestled on the west coast just above the US border between pine forests, working rivers, industry and bridges for as far as the eye can see is Vancouver. There must be over eight different design bridges I can view from the penthouse apartment I am staying in. The locals try to tell this true Brit that Vancouver, British Columbia is just like England but am sorry to enlighten those of you living with this illusion that is it nothing like my England or the my UK.

Surrounded by wide roads, freeways, American style road signs, scarlet fire hydrants on every street corner, houses that resemble the east coast of the US and primarily Virginia and row after row of high-rise apartment buildings and neon this is Vancouver. Out walking I come face to face, on every cross street, with the classic American “don’t walk tangerine hand sign” resembling the Arabic Hamsa which symbolises protection. Then when I am given permission to walk I see the USA white walking man; nothing close to my UK. Oh and I almost forgot, no roundabouts, but the other classic American four way stop. Not to mention the yankee range of stores.

Us Brits do not have anywhere close to the range of stores or the size. The breath taking variety and range of produce in each supermarket here is Vancouver can only be compared to the US, not my England. The weather is about the closest comparable to England. Seasons appear same time of year although Vancouver winters can be much harder and colder than the UK. Summers tend to be warmer.

Areas of Vancouver are very pretty and obviously wealthy but many areas are extremely industrial and grey. The river is a working river with tug boats pulling and pushing containers in and out all day. The freight train runs day and night with a slow low long horn blasting out across the city every few minutes and runs all over town. It’s good to see a hard working river but it does not paint a pretty water colour. Someone commented to me that Vancouver is ugly and grey in the rain and I have to say I agree.

An attempt has been made at the waterside areas to make attractive eating spots and interesting walkways, but sadly not my cuppa tea, although I have drunk an awful lot of tea since arriving in a variety of vessels and situations but none of them served in a bone china English tea cup. And just like the USA tea is poor and weak and not English at all. I have bee lucky enough to drink good ole English Typhoo but still not as good as my home brewed PG Tips. Cheers.

Visiting Sonoma County, California

As I stand here in Sonoma County, California, I think about how far I have come, many years down the line I scan up following the line of the inspiring evergreen pines that surround me and which protrude way up to the sky, I am reminded of their awesome strength and courage. A bird of prey circles and soars high above me and both command power over the cobalt blue sky and others that jointly share the silken hue they glide in. No other twitter graces this elite position or permeates such elegance caressing the skies. Raising my head I look up to the heavens and standing straight I rise up tall and confident and fill my lungs with the clear forest air; the aroma of the pine forest encapsulates my senses with the natural perfume of the forest and I feel worthy, liberated and powerful; elegance and dignity like the eagle have returned.  I give myself up to the awesome expanse above me and I begin to really feel again. I find myself opening my arms wide and raising my hands in praise to universe and freedom engulfs my being. In childlike fashion I spin around and around and around enjoying the cool air washing across my skin until I reel and stagger with giddiness and fall about with the giggles. I roll in the sea of pine needles and thank my creator for bringing peace, happiness and contentment to a new life that is now in a satisfied place of harmony.

Reflecting on a time of no muscle or power, I am happy to say the war is over; I thank my maker for the final bell ending the horrific rounds in the ring; I know the tourney is done. The punches have ceased, the bruises healed, the blood has congealed; no longer a punch bag, verbally, emotionally, mentally, physically or sexually. Thankfully the referee is now redundant, the ring is empty and the judges have declared their ruling; tournament over and unlawful. The opponent is broken, the audience retreated; the auditorium an empty vessel. The sadistic cheering of the spectators is finally silenced and the silent screaming from the target is thankfully hushed and mute. The predator has been deemed incapable; disqualified for breaking the rules. The psychopath is alone and lonely.

The blows have stopped, the pain is managed, the fear suppressed. The prey fled in order to save her soul and the predator was grounded. There are no winners in a sport such as this; no medals or trophies, only sadness and despair. But in time a new peace and a different language emerge from the darkness and eventually a light shines, hope trickles and an emotional river swells and flows more freely. A new sense of trust propagates in the heart and soul. But it takes time, buckets full of time, to transcend the punches, scars, memories and propaganda. Parts of it never heal and the smallest nugget of pain remains buried deep within the brain, as a reminder of the journey. A nugget that is a relic of the past that serves to jump out now and again as a prompt of “never again.”

In the fog that hung between the punches of the senses was a small pleasure called teatime that always felt comfy and easy; peaceful and quiet. Alone at three thirty each afternoon the heavenly ritual of sweet tea and cake was always a comfort and gave light and hope to a hopeless round in the fog. Whether alone, with family or friends there was always something soothingly sweet and comfy about tea and cake in the midst of the chaos and despair.

Leaping out of the fog with a roar and a regained sense of power like I have never known before and mirroring the strong lines of the evergreen pines, I rise  up and stand tall and feel like I am soaring through life again. Fleeing was better than staying; homeless was better than heartless. Standing in the freedom of this beautiful forest, I realise life has become bearable, safe and most of all free of the distasteful violence I suffered for far too long. Regaining my personal power and learning how to respect myself again has set me free. In a flash I could suddenly see beyond the horizon and colour seeped back into each day. After three decades of mental torture and abuse I could smell life, feel emotion, hear serenity and touch peace. I was no longer a contender floundering at the ring side, with blows being thrown at me, bouncing off the ringside padding with a referee counting down time. I have completely regained the control stolen from me during a long abusive marriage and I now rise up like the pines and soar like the eagle through life; I have broken the pattern of domestic violence, survived this distasteful diversion and embrace the contentment and freedom of the soul every day.

Domestic violence doesn’t discriminate, it can be found in every background, upbringing and social class…so don’t judge me when you don’t know me, do not underestimate me until you have understood my challenges  and do not question me when you haven’t walked my journey.

Women's Aid Helpline

 0808 2000 247

helpline@womensaid.org.uk

National Centre for Domestic Violence

0844 8044 999

Victim Support

0845 30 30 900

The Police

In an emergency 999 / Non-emergency 101

Christmas in the Arizona Desert

December 18 2013, one week before St Nick slips down chimneys all over this beautiful city and here I am preparing to celebrate the festivities in the Arizonan Desert. Holidaying with the daughter and long standing friends, it is a busy but enjoyable and moving time of the year especially here in this very dear place that is close to my heart. The sun rises about 7.30 am and sets about 5.30 pm with vermilion and amethyst brush strokes painted across the horizon, it’s an exquisite sight with Camelback Mountain silhouetted against this beautiful backdrop.

As dawn evolves the Arizonan sun and blue skies flood the day, together with a cool desert chill morning and evening filling the atmosphere and where, surprisingly, light jackets are required even though the temperature is still 75 degrees Fahrenheit. A road runner runs here and a quail scurries there; a hummingbird hovers and darts to my left and a desert robin sits proudly high atop a saguaro surveying the festive landscape. Venturing out I enjoy observing the merriment and hustle and bustle of families preparing for their personal celebrations…fall or one day only (yes one day only) here in the US. No Boxing Day here. Though our American friends pretend to celebrate BD day, even though they do not really know what it is all about; they like to observe it for us two Brits, Mrs Teacup and daughter. Sadly, on Boxing Day the working population usually return to their corporate desks.

The Malls are frantic with families buying food, decorations, gifts, wrapping paper and ribbon. Monstrous evergreen Christmas trees are sold on street corners in the “Tree Patches” all over town and families load their car roofs and make their way home to overload such tree with sparkly decorations and lights of every shape size and colour you can imagine. Shop windows are beautifully and tastefully overdone; prices are low, or lower than usual, with bargains to be had on every corner of the Phoenix grid system where businesses hope to rake in their last sales before the New Year is rung in with Should Old Acquaintance be Forgotten. Coffee shops sell Christmas shaped cookies and pastries, snowy frothy winter lattes and cappuccinos and Christmas flavoured tea with cinnamon and seasonal spices, all very yummy and moreish. Families look festive (and silly in some cases) wearing reindeer ears or jingle bell antennae as they go about their Christmas business; even some of the cars and trucks are sparkled up for the Season of Good Will and wear “ears” or “sparkles” or “lights” of some description or another.

Every other house and garden twinkle with coloured lights of every colour of the rainbow; gardens are a glow and covered in decorations. Competition is high to see who can put the most lights up or who can do the most outrageous display; electricity bills must be high too! Neighbours outwitting neighbours in the Christmas spirit in some streets.  Cactus's, bushes, trees and plants are all elaborately adorned and flashing. The downtown trolley bus will take you on a tour of the grandest displays if you so desire. House parties are in full swing on each street corner with Cadillac’s, Hummers and Station Wagons parked kerbside and I'm Dreaming of a White Christmas blaring. Restaurants have Christmas everything; decorated ice creams and puds; napkins and table centres; waitresses and waiters are bedecked with tinsel and flashing earrings, Santa hats and festive antennae. Christmas flavoured ice teas, Christmas smelling candles; in fact everything you ever wanted can be Christmas coloured, flavoured or decorated right down to the Kleenex box , kitchen towel…..and even the loo rolls!

There are places to go and things to see; Lights at the Zoo, Luminaries at the Botanical Gardens with Chihully, Christmas Markets by the Waterfront, Christmas Craft Making Parties, the Nutcracker at the theatre, carols at the Philharmonic, Swan Lake at the ballet, Native American Storytelling and children’s theatre of some description all over town. No traditional Pantomime; they do not understand Pantomime! The Public Art is festivitied up with holly and ivy wreaths, bows and baubles. Everything that can be decorated is decorated.

Churches of every denomination are in full swing and sparkle up with crosses and stars, mangers and nativity scenes to praise, be thankful and welcome the Kings of Kings birth on the 25th. Carolers sing The Holly and the Ivy and Hark the Herald Angles in quiet corners of shopping malls with donations going to charities. Schools celebrate with parties and concerts for proud mums and dads to shed a happy tear in honour of their children’s successful year at school. Charities sell paper angels in a variety of prominent spots, in order that children less fortunate can receive a gift over the Christmas period. Soup kitchens and youth hostels serve up free meals and food bags so most do not go hungry.

Its fun, a blast, cool, awesome and certainly different and I love every minute. You cannot get much more Christmassy and outrageous than spending the Christmas Holiday Season in the Arizonan Desert alongside the Saguaros, Jumping Chollas, Cactus Wrens, Hummingbirds, Road Runners, Quails, Poinsettia’s, Cowboys and Native Americans. What a fantastic juxtaposition this whole adventure and season always is here in my heartland.

Merry Christmas and a Happy and Prosperous New Year to you all.

God Bless.