From East to West: a new chapter in the PNW

It’s now more than four months since I moved across the world for a second time and made another home in the Pacific Northwest, and I wanted to note down some observations before I get so used to life here that they seem commonplace.

Firstly, to all kind readers aren’t sure what the heck I’m doing over here: I moved to Eugene, Oregon to do a Master’s in Nonprofit Management at the University of Oregon, a program that isn’t really available in the UK but is becoming increasingly common over here. At the same time, I work 20 hours a week as a GTF (Graduate Teaching Fellow) coordinating the International Cultural Service Program, in return for tuition, healthcare and a stipend. It’s a tuition scholarship for international students – they make presentations and teach classes to community groups about their culture; I manage their appointments and teach them how to do it. They’re a wonderful group of students from Tibet to Turkmenistan, with some incredible stories of how they came to be here. Their challenges as international students are humbling and put mine in perspective.

Apart from that, I’m currently interning at a Foundation that raises money for the local community college; chairing the Events committee and acting as Secretary for the UO’s chapter of Association of Fundraising Professionals; and practicing with the UO taiko group every week.

Last term was a full and extremely busy to the start of my two years here. This term I’ve resolved to make the most of my measly 9-credit load and take at least one day off from homework a week, read and exercise more, and keep exploring this beautiful part of the world. Eugene and the UO are just about as opposite from St Andrews as you can imagine, and I’m loving getting to enjoy that contrast.

St Andrews was a tiny stone fishing town replete with a ruined cathedral and the oldest golf course in the world, where the ‘gown’ student population of rich Americans and Scandinavians and ‘town’ population of Scottish locals were pretty much separate. Heeled boots and a statement necklace were standard wear for the library. Undergrads were heavily involved in extra-curriculars from the Vanity Fair and Vogue-covered annual fashion show to the rugby and hockey teams to the half dozen student publications detailing small-town exploits. For fun there was a black-tie event at least every month, or a couple of clubs the size of living rooms where wealthy, drunk golfers would occasionally feel generous and buy us a round, or you could always just pop into a stranger’s house party glimpsed from the street: you inevitably would know someone there. An unlocked bike could survive weeks, and each year was punctuated by traditions dating back 600 years.

Eugene has long been a hub of West Coast counter-culture, nestled in a valley between pine-covered mountains and surrounded by rivers and hot springs, the wide cracked streets lined with old trees and individuated wooden houses with porches.  The student population at first sight appears to be a mix of green-and-yellow clad Ducks fans (the football team here is huge); sorority girls and frat boys; Asian students hanging out in designer clothes and driving round in white Bentleys; hippie kids in tie dye and dreads, and the ubiquitous student in North face and hiking boots on a sweet bike. The locals are very engaged in town life and there is a lot of activism: people really care. Locked bikes go missing after an hour and there is also quite a large homeless population. And yet Eugene has its own distinct character. Downtown is peppered with yoga studios, sushi bars, cannabis shops, craft and second-hand bookstores, coffee spots and microbreweries.

I’m also finding university culture very different, although some of that is probably down to being in graduate school this time around, as well as taking a more professional than academic degree. Assignments tend to be smaller and more frequent and classes include a participation grade, whereas in Scotland you could basically turn up or not, and hand in one big essay at the end of term. Equity and inclusion is also emphasised far more, making the annual male-only Kate Kennedy parade of my undergrad years seem terribly outdated. The campus is huge and the facilities, especially the monolithic sports centre, reflect the $32,000/year fees for non-residents.

I love the Oregonian philosophy of life too. It’s a liberal, outdoorsy, unpretentious (despite the Portlandia depiction of insufferable hipsters) and relaxed state. People seem to understand how to have a good quality of life with time to be outside, have hobbies and talk to strangers. They’re friendly in a way that feels authentic (classic Oregonian buzzword).

That said, there are a few differences I’m still getting used to. It’s a cliché that Brits are polite and reserved, but it’s a cliché for a reason. Saying sorry, please and thank you all the time is normal for me, and I sometimes have to remind myself that the conversational differences don’t indicate rudeness but simply a different normal. Likewise with other subtle quirks: phrases like ‘I don’t care’ instead of ‘I don’t mind’ or calling someone ‘she’ instead of their name. People feel far more open about sharing their lives with work colleagues and acquaintances, and are way more blunt, but it does make for interesting conversations. I do miss dry British humour and sarcasm and am often taken literally when I’m being anything but serious.

One of the other two main things I’ve noticed, or more accurately just felt, is the work ethic. It seems like people here work longer hours and take fewer holidays, but also have their identity more intertwined with their jobs and career. Work isn't so much just something you do between 9-5 and is more integral to people’s character. The other is the sense of social security. Even speaking as a privileged grad student with great health insurance, it seems like it’s far easier to slip through the cracks here: have a run of bad luck and make a few mistakes and you could be down and out far more easily. I’ve come to appreciate the NHS more than ever as an incredible safety net that we take for granted too often. The relationship to the state here is also something I had to see first hand to really understand. Rather than an embedded expectation of or dependence on the state, here there is an element of deep-seated suspicion – one reason for the many nonprofits.

That’s not to say these differences are bad and one way is better than the other! I feel privileged to be living in a foreign country again, this time one where I can speak the same language and thus connect with people in a different way, and to have the time to try and understand a different way of life. I’m realising what a big step my American friends took in moving to St Andrews at 18, and understanding them in new ways, too. 

Apart from that, I miss bathroom cubicles that don't have 1-inch gaps all around the door, British white bread, butter and cream (food also tends to last twice as long here, I think due to what chemicals are in it), the BBC, eclectic fashion sense, public transport, and being left well alone by people in shops. But on the flip side, I love the cheap movie tickets, un-measured alcohol units in bars, absence of biting North winds, egalitarian ethos, and the open-heartedness of the people here.I don't know if one day these notes will feel like distant memory, or the start of what was to become everyday, and I'm ok with that for now. 

The PUWYs: On coming home, reverse culture shock, and life after Japan

It’s been almost 3 months since I posted here, and I don’t now how that quarter-year passed so quickly. I moved countries, towns and houses, twice. I started a new job. I experienced a mellow English Autumn for the first time, made a lot of changes in my life, and had some powerful highs and lows.

I’d like to finish posting some of the pictures and memories from Japan I still having kicking around, while I still remember them. After that, I doubt I’ll be using this blog much, at least until another purpose for it comes along. For the first time since being a teenager, I have the compulsion to write a lot for myself – maybe because it’s a similarly transitional time.

A friend from work, 30 and comfortingly on top of her shit, actually has a word for this stage of life: the PUWYs (pronounced pewies) or Post University Wilderness Years. She tells me that almost all her friends of her age, who are now largely settled and happy in their careers, locations, relationships and lives, had no clue what they were doing at 23. The markers of adulthood our parents enjoyed at our age – relatively easy-found and well-paid jobs, cars, mortgages, marriages – are no longer attained so soon. No one tells you this, but these may be the most challenging years of your life.

I know exactly what she means. But that said, I’m ok with these new challenges. This feels like a time for taking time, for thinking about goals, working hard and enjoying the company of friends from school, university and Japan, all making our way in the big metropolis. It’s good to finally stay in a country where I’ve never lived but that always felt like home.

Leaving Japan in August was the right thing to do, but it was such a wrench saying goodbye to friends there, and home was a shock in unexpected ways. I’d been told to expect reverse culture shock, but the brusqueness of people in public still felt jarring. I still can’t help bowing in some situations, and miss the politeness and consideration of Japanese people very much. I came back to the Edinburgh International Festival in August, and would end days in town feeling exhausted by seeing the multitudes of varied shapes, sizes, ethnicities and fashion choices jostling around me.

On my first day in London, I stood helplessly by as people pushed in front of me in the taxi rank, until a tiny old man tapped me on the shoulder and said kindly, “You have to be forceful in London!” For the first few weeks in my new town, I found myself weirdly wishing that everyone on the streets were Japanese. Two months later the shock has worn off, and I’m so happy to be back in my own country where I can interact with strangers on trains and act with a different kind of self-reliance.

I’m working in a very academic boarding school doing alumni relations and fundraising. I like having the freedom to define my own role - which is a challenging one as it amalgamates 3 people’s previous jobs - being able to boss around an intern, and the business of building a community, something which I’ve found comes kind of naturally. I get to edit and produce 4 magazines a year, some with students, and organise events from galas in the Globe Theatre to memorial lacrosse matches.

The school is a huge campus including a lake, a forest and a horse paddock, surrounded by a high brick wall and suspiciously called ‘Narnia’ by the locals. We can buy eggs from the chicken coops and honey from the bee hives. Morning cake and afternoon tea happens every day in the staffroom, and the History Department secret drinks parties not that less often. The girls are intimidatingly ambitious, confident and focused, and I find myself setting higher goals for myself as I see what they go on to do. That said, I know I don’t want to spend my life making money for the richest people in the country, even with all the scholarships they do provide. I’m learning as much as I can while I work out how exactly I want to use it.

I’m living in a huge Victorian house 5 minutes’ walk from work, with a family of modern hippies and 3 other lodgers. While my room is neat and atmospheric, with high ceilings, a big old wardrobe and a fireplace, the rest of the house is stuffed to the rafters with old newspapers, paintings, bike wheels, plants, sacks of grains, telephones that don’t work, strings of fairy lights and dairy-free products.

I was assured on viewing the house that this was a intermediary phase while some rooms were prepared for foster kids (arriving in about 5 months, at which point I will be homeless). I soon realised that this kind of clutter takes years to accumulate and probably years to get rid of. But, it’s cosy and full of good cooking smells and there’s a pianola in the hall (the only house rule is it musn’t be played after midnight). We don’t use Wifi (it goes in your brain, you know), the microwave is safely placed in the pantry for the same reason, and all our soaps come from powdery paper bags. There’s an inexplicable, faint noise at all times that sounds exactly like the house has a heartbeat.

The family is sweet and laugh a lot watching TV in the room next to mine. The matriarch, my landlady, spends mornings a lot of mornings in her dressing gown composing songs on her guitar about how much she hates traffic. She married the 2 daughters’ father on the spur of the moment in City Hall, both of them and 6 of their friends all dressed as Groucho Marx. She grows herbs and vegetables and picks apples from the tree in the garden, and likes fixing things using the spare electronics she hoards. One of the other lodgers is editing the new Star Wars movie, one is a bald Finnish man with many granola products in his cupboard, and one is almost too Italian to function. He pronounces the word biodegradable (oft-used around here) ‘bee-oh-dee-grad-ablay’, and has been known to stand hungover in the kitchen, squeezing lemon after lemon into a glass and murmuring “Santa Maria!”

I don’t have many photos to share of the time since I got back, partly because I’ve broken the iPhone addiction (a situation I intend to rectify ASAP. My Blackberry has taken to rattling randomly from time to time, like a Horcrux.) I like Instagramming and having a photo journal to look back on, but it comes with its own complications. When your life isn’t so photogenic, or you’re in transit and aren’t quite sure who you are or what you want, let alone how to present yourself, how can you communicate that authentically to such a broad group of people? Do you even want to? I think our generation has these questions to consider in a way only celebrities did in the past.

I’m coming a bit later to the PUWY party than many of my friends, and maybe I’m overthinking it. But I’m enjoying feeling alone and connected, and empty and full, and scared and brave, all at the same time. It’s pretty exciting.

In the name of posterity and nostalgia, Japan pictures to follow. In the name of not being too pretentious or rambling, I’ll shut up now. It’s good to be back.

two island nations

A while ago I wrote a piece for the prefectural office in Miyazaki about the similarities between Japan and the UK and a few of my mishaps in negotiating them. It's finally up on the site so here's the link! 

tonight

We drove home from taiko practice, the shrine dog's barks echoing around the mountain. At the bottom of the hill we stopped. The road stretched straight ahead, fields and trees on either side. We heard the drums faintly but they were drowned out by frogs, cicadas, crickets, bats. The night smelled pungent and heady, a quarter moon shining dully on the cedars. Wandering along the road, the kei car's lights flashed orange behind us as we chased after fireflies, the first I've ever seen. They glowed a fresh green in slow flashes, the length of a breath.

golden week

Between 29th April and 5th May, Japan celebrates Golden Week, when four public holidays mean the longest vacation of the year for many Japanese workers. The name comes from the 1950s:

In 1951, the film Jiyū Gakkō recorded higher ticket sales during this holiday-filled week than any other time in the year (including New Year's and Obon). This prompted the managing director of Daiei Film Co., Ltd. to dub the week "Golden Week" based on the Japanese radio lingo “golden time,” which denotes the period with the highest listener ratings.

Thanks Wikipedia. I spent mine in Thailand, meeting three other Miyazaki JETs there and exploring Bangkok and Chiang Mai together. It was fantastic and so different from Japan - dry, chaotic, relaxed, tourist-friendly, messy. It was eye opening and fascinating to see a new part of Asia, and it was good to once again feel that adrenaline rush that comes from transplanting yourself to a totally new place, alone.

In Chiang Mai the food was cheap and full of flavour, the people made sex jokes all the time, lush blossoms tumbled over dusty old walls. We took open-backed trucks into the jungle to go zip-lining and to swim in waterfalls. Horse drawn buggies towed us between crumbling tombs; we received massages in a cool room run entirely by blind people; went to a joyful lady-boys cabaret and attended an outdoor cooking school in a thunderstorm. 

In Bangkok we haggled with tuk-tuk drivers; hopped around to avoid cockroaches and rats walking home at night; ate banana fritters, mango sticky rice and coconut ice cream from street stalls; got lost in a 27 acre bazaar. A wrinkled tour guide with a hipster haircut named Ex ("for expert") called us "dears" and took us to markets on canals and rail tracks. We drank cocktails in a sky bar, then accidentally walked into a pro-monarchist political rally and ate free curry and watermelon under a statue of the King. 

It was good to loosen up and revel in being a tourist in this new place, only learning how to say thank you, and without a Lonely Planet guide or a smartphone with roaming to help me along. I went along with my friends' plans, enjoyed being picked up at my hotel for activities and studied only what maps I needed to. Having no classes to look presentable for, I relaxed into the sweaty, searing heat. After 9 months of trying to be as self-sufficient, culturally aware and integrated as possible, I felt comfortable being a clueless foreigner. 

But I also realised how much I have learned in 9 months, down to the minutiae of every day life that allow me to live here. When my plane made its descent to Fukuoka yesterday, I looked at the neat green streets and fields and felt a strange sense of familiarity and homecoming. When I got stuck in Kagoshima after 22 hours of travel, unable to withdraw cash from holiday-hours ATMs and biting back frustrated tears, I could once again rely on the trust of Japanese people to issue me a special ticket, and the kindness of a Japanese friend to pay my fare at the other end. I feel even more appreciative of the daily respect the people here show each other. 

I started this blog partly because I hoped it might be helpful and interesting to other foreigners interested or living in Japan, but mainly to substitute the diary I've kept for 14 years and to remember my time here. I'm way behind with posts and will be posting a lot in the next few weeks to catch up, but won't bombard facebook with them to keep from boring people! As much as possible, I want the rest of what I post to be honest and from the heart. Close to what I'd actually write for myself, and not just a carefully edited stream of Instagram-friendly moments that I'd look back on with a feeling of distance in fifty years.

Now it's only 3 months till I'm home and, having spent so much of this year travelling, right now I feel inclined to spend most of it right here in Miyazaki. I want to spend time with my colleagues, students, taiko group and friends and enjoy the summer evenings in this beautiful prefecture.

leaving japan and musings on the jet programme

This week was my first full schedule with the new first years, and I’ve enjoyed it immensely. With the end of our contracts a little over 3 months away, everyone is posting about whether their decision to leave or stay was the right one, and I totally understand that.

Starting afresh with a new group of students, knowing what I’m doing, and having experience behind me, the difference between these self introdctions and my ones in August is marked. Recently, waking up in the morning, the way I feel before teaching has tipped to the excitement outweighing the nervousness. It’s not even that the content of my lessons has changed that much, more that I can now feel at ease in front of a 40-strong class; not feel compelled to fill an unsure silence; exert a little more authority and know more instinctively what will and won’t work off the paper lesson plan. Because of the difference in the academic calenders between Japan and English-speaking countries, it makes sense for us to arrive here one semester into the school year. But I’m only realising now why they say two years gives you the best experience, and it’s undeniably better for the kids. 

Crazy good drawing a student just casually did one night for their school-trip book cover

In terms of being in Japan, staying for a year makes sense for me and I’ll have accomplished my original goals. I’ve traveled all over the country; gained a measure of understanding of Japanese society and culture; tried teaching; kept up writing; got experience with public speaking and leading that I never had at university; become more self-sufficient; learned how to communicate with just about anyone regardless of age, background or language; lived as a minority; and become totally financially independent straight after graduating.

Nevertheless, I think two years is optimal for real job satisfaction.

If the JET Programme and the Japanese Ministry of Eduction is serious about improving English teaching in schools, they need to focus on quality and not quantity of ALTs (which seems to be the plan.) In real terms, I think that might mean a 2 year minimum contract, and more training both for us and the JTE’s who will team teach with us. And although the Programme seems pretty good at finding the right placements for participants, they also need to do a lot of streamlining. I’ve heard so many stories of JETs being paid to sit at their desks for weeks on end – making bulletin boards, writing newsletters, studying Japanese and eventually knitting and watching movies. Great for those who want a gap year lifestyle while pursuing their own projects – not so great for those who actually want to teach, or for the state of English learning in Japan.

The Programme has changed a lot since its early days in the 80s, when it was just a handful of top graduates given 4+ weeks of training. It’s hard to say how long it will survive as it is, and it’s most definitely not perfect. Nevertheless, I still think ALTs have a huge part to play here, in pushing students to communicate in real English rather than memorised chunks of grammar, and in providing rare and real foreign interaction.

Yesterday I went on a school trip with the new first years to the famous Saito Burial Mounds. We climbed hills to view the vistas, wandered through a cherry orchard, and played dodgeball among the barrows. My students were relaxed, witty, unbelievably energetic. It was a perfect spring day, the likes of which I’ve only really read about. A cool wind ran over the sun-warmed meadows and the rice paddies were punctuated by tiny white trucks and old women in bonnets. The air literally smelled sweet. I’m going to miss this country so much. 

gaijin invasion of an ume matsuri

Way back in February we had a national holiday and, as is my wont here, I took up a complete stranger on their extremely kind offer of a day’s traditional Japanese culture. A bunch of ALTs from around the prefecture met at a tiny town called Kiyotake to try on kimono and enjoy the new plum blossoms (ume) at a mini traditional festival (matsuri). In Japan, people like to talk about the weather and the changing seasons lmot as much as Brits. Each passing month appears to be marked by a special produce – cherry blossom themed candy was this March’s speciality.

We gathered in a large hall, along with several families of other foreigners, and were helped on with our kimono and obi. In actuality it was kind of a cross between a yukata – the simple, one-layered, thin-material worn in summer- and a real kimono, which is thicker like the layer we wore, but includes many complex layers of material and padding.

Somewhat restricted, we slowly made our way to the matsuri, which of course kicked off with all of us displayed on stage and asked questions about our origins! As I may have mentioned before, the population here is 99% Japanese. This means that any foreigner outside of a big city is often de facto a local celebrity, and people will unabashedly stare at you.

At best, they will pepper you with questions about your country and your opinion of Japan; invite you randomly to their home for dinner and parties; leave their shops to accompany you places if you’re lost; explain things to you slowly; and treat you like an honoured guest. I appreciate all this very much, even if I feel I don’t deserve such special treatment all the time. At worst, they cross to the other side of the street on sight or give you the evils (I’m looking at you, Miyazaki grandmas); prefer standing in a choc-a-bloc rushhour bus to sitting next to you; fall off their seat in surprise every time you use chopsticks or a Japanese word; and ask very personal questions about your religious and political beliefs, how much your possessions cost, your exact relationship status, etc.

Living here, you are generally excused almost any faux-pas or silly mistake by virtue of being a foreigner, and so you kind of oscillate between trying to disprove assumptions by integrating, and just doing "gaijin smash" and lazily taking advantage of your perceived special status! I think that this ‘free pass’ results partly from necessity and from genuine consideration, of course, but also perhaps partly from the assumption that foreigners could never possibly understand, integrate, or conduct themselves like anything but a thrashing fish out of water. This assumption may not seem particularly problematic until you imagine applying it to Japanese living in the UK.

But, this is only one side of the coin – the other is tremendous kindess and forbearance – in a country still quite unused to the foreigners. Despite the cliched image of the Japanese tourist, leaving the country to go on holiday is still pretty uncommon here. I’m only beginning to learn about Japanese history, but it was still illegal to leave Japan until 1868, and in the preceding couple of centuries no foreigner was to enter on pain of death – so it’s little wonder that immigration and gloabalisation works a little differently here.

I say all this not to detract from the perfect day or from my experience generally in Japan, but to give a balanced picture of what it’s like to live here. I have zero problem with showing off on stage in a kimono and receiving applause for existing! I’m sure most ALTs will take all these things for granted, but perhaps not the people reading back home!

After our moment in the limelight, we shuffled off to enjoy yakisoba, tea ceremony, archery (called kyudo), and of couse, the ume! (Sakura are the famous cherry blossoms that come later in the year, while ume are the smaller fore-runners.) We also twitnessed the talents of a group of precocious pre-teens shake their thang to Beyonce. The spring sun was bright and warm as we drove back through the snow-capped mountains.

 

This woman was a kimono-folding powerhouse! 

Waiting for tea ceremony to begin

Getting involved with some pounding 

leibster award: in which we ask intriguing things of each other

A few weeks ago the swashbuckling Sarah of Bookshelf Pirate – fellow St Andrews almuna, book worm and blogger – nominated me for a Liebster Award. As far as I can tell, it’s like a very interesting update of the chain letters you used to send in school, without the playground gossip and infighting, and a fun way to keep in touch long-distance! The rules are as follows.

1) Thank the person who nominated you and link to their blog.

2) Answer their 10 questions.

3) Nominate your blogger friends and give them your own 10 questions.

Thanks Sarah for nominating me with such kind words! Here are my answers…

What flavour of tea defines you as a person?

The only type with any kind of personal resonance is good old-fashioned builder’s tea: Tetley with milk and two sugars. That’s the kind my Gran would give me with a slice of toasted white bread slathered in salty butter (Scottish Grandmothers, driving the obesity epidemic singlehandedly), as well as to my dog in a little bowl! The perfect antidote to cold, fever, drowsiness, jitters, shock, and homesickness, for me it’s the taste of comfort and familiarity.  I was roundly mocked on my first summer home after university for drinking  herb and mint teas “just like a student”. 

That said, green tea is becoming an addiction...

If you were to become a super villain, what would your one weakness be?

My weakness would be the ability to envision the world from everyone’s perspective, to the point of immobility. I’d have my prey captive, tied in chairs back-to-back with the saw/ laser/ steamroller approaching them, when they’d begin, “But Sophie, what you’ve got to remember is that from where I stand…” and before long I’d be second-guessing my villainous plans and sympathising so much that I’d have no chance but to press the big red stop button.

What is your favourite poem?

This is like trying to choose my favourite friend! So many poets spring to mind – Larkin, Ovid, Catullus, Rumi, Cummings, Bukowski, Neruda, Breton, Yeats, Duffy – so I’ll post one here from a poet I don’t know anything about, but love nevertheless. I think I found it on the back of a worksheet in high school and liked it ever since.

C Major

When he came down to the street after the rendezvous

the air was swirling with snow.

Winter had come

while they lay together.

The night shone white.

He walked quickly with joy.

The whole town was downhill.

The smiles passing by –

everyone was smiling behind turned-up collars.

It was free!

And all the question-marks began singing of god’s being.

So he thought.

A music broke out

and walked in the swirling snow

with long steps.

Everything on the way towards the note C.

A trembling compass directed at C.

One hour higher than the torments.

It was easy!

Behind turned-up collars everyone was smiling.

Tomas Transtromer

You can only eat the cuisine from one nation for an entire year. Which do you choose?

The beautiful goodness of tomato ramen

Right now I’ve got to say Japanese! Before coming here my knowledge only extended to sushi and sashimi, but now my favourites include nabe (a delicious kind of hotpot), shabu-shabu (thinly sliced meat and vegetables instantly cooked in boiling broth), tempura udon (battered king prawn with thick noodles in broth), tomato ramen (tomato broth with ramen, chicken, melted cheese and whatever else you fancy), okonomiyaki (omelette stuffed with layers of cabbage, bacon, shrimp, rice wafers and barbecue sauce), chicken nanban (fried chicken with tartar mayo), guidon, tonkatsu and oyakodon (all combinations of meat and egg over rice). That’s not to mention the sushi – which is cheaper, fresher and tastier here of course! Are you drooling yet?

Tempura udon for lunch at school

If you could live a happy and healthy life without ever needing to sleep again, would you give it up to save time? Or are you a contented bed bug?

I think I’d save it for weekends – I’d miss dreaming too much to give it up completely! I read a book once where a character savoured sleep so much that she could taste it, “like good bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwich” and I can understand that perfectly! Plus it’s what happens either side of sleeping that’s interesting ;)

Rainbow fairy lights or white ones?

White for ambience and general classiness – but you’ve gotta break out the rainbow ones at Christmas.

Fairy lights galore!

Are you a good driver? Are you an honest judge of your own driving abilities? What do you family and friends have to say on the matter?

Much to my dismay, I’ve yet to take my driving test. It’s number one on the to-do list when I get home. In the mean time, I pride myself on being an excellent listener, chat partner, and music/ snack provider for my designated drivers.

Would you go into Outer Space if given the opportunity?

Absolutely. My plan is to wait till I’m old and it’s commercially available, like a bungee jump or deep sea dive. Then I’ll go see the sun rise on the earth and be jolted out of my old-person habits, assumptions and cynicisms. Plus if it goes disasterously wrong, I’m old anyway.

Do you prefer reading/ writing outdoors, in public spaces, or at home in the peace and quiet?

Reading is best done in peace, quiet and warmth: either in a sunny patch of a sheltered garden, or lying in front of an open fire. My favourite place to write, particularly poems, has got to be public transport – trains preferable, buses tolerable. You have just enough distraction to be stimulating rather than irritating, an end-point to motivate you, and a window of unused time to feel completely free and relaxed. Try it!

What’s the best book you read in the past year? Why do you recommend it?

Around this time last year I was writing my dissertation on media coverage of the Congo conflict, and reading The Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kingsolver to try and enhance my knowledge. I’d recommend it to anyone, but especially if you’re interested in the region, colonialism or anthropology. It follows the family of an American Bible Belt missionary who move to a village in the Congo in 1959 just as it is transitioning into the post-colonial era. She can fool you into thinking you’re reading only about home or guilt or loss – hefty themes in themselves - when boom! You realise you’ve somehow acquired a far more nuanced understanding of power and oppression along the way. Aside from that, Kingsolver’s ability to inhabit the voices of all five women in the family as they age is extraordinary and utterly convincing (she displays this virtuosity in her other fantastic novel, The Lacuna, too). I’ll definitely be re-reading it soon.

And now I present my (12, not 10) questions for the next round of nominees! Johannah, Francesca,  Kayla, I like you and your writing very much and, if you have the time and the inclination, would love to know what you think.  Or, if you have only one or neither, no worries - just an invitation :) 

Sarah, I’d love to know your answers to my questions too in the comments section.  And that goes for anyone reading this post!  Or you could just answer a select few – whatever floats your boat.

1. What is your earliest memory?
2. If you could live in any period and place in the world, where and when would it be? You’d be the same person and your family, opportunities etc would be generally the same too. (When we played this at Christmas my uncles answered unequivocally and gloweringly, “Scotland in the days before the smoking ban.”)
3. What would your last meal be?
4. What’s your favourite book?
5. Name eight people, dead or alive, fictional or real, who you’d invite to your ultimate dinner party.
6. What is a law, custom, common assumption or norm you would change: why and how? (It can be as serious or as trivial as you like!)
7. Describe your perfect day.
8. What is something you have learned in the past year? (It can be a skill or specific interesting fact, but general realisations about yourself or the world are more fascinating).
9. Name three qualities you most admire and three you most despise in a person.
10. Which three places do you most want to go in the world?
11. When do you feel most yourself?
12. Name a skill/ ability you have and wish you didn’t, and one you don’t have and wish you did. And, one you do have and do enjoy or value, just to end things on a positive note!