When I was in year one, my mum would drop me off at my best friend’s Ellie’s house each morning on her way to work rather than cart me off to before-and-after-school-care (which I hated).
One Monday morning in Spring, my mum dropped me off at the usual time of 8.00 am outside my Ellie’s house. But when I knocked on the front door, Mrs. E was surprised to see me there. She asked me if my mum had a meeting or had to start earlier than normal. Confused, I responded no.
Mrs. E shrugged and let me in. I looked at my watch and saw it said 8.00am and then I looked up at the clock in Mrs E’s hallway and saw it said 7.00am. I suddenly remembered that the day before, Mum explained something called daylight saving to me. And that daylight saving meant we needed to wind our watches and the clocks in the house forward.
My little six-year-old brain went into overdrive. Panic set in. My little refugee brain reasoned that if we wound our clocks forward but Mrs. E’s family didn’t, daylight saving must be a Persian thing.
Once I had figured out that daylight saving was another one of these weird Persian things that I had to participate in, the panic subsided and I started to feel angry. I was really angry at my mother. How could she do this to me, I thought to myself. Letting me go to Mrs. E’s house an entire hour early and not telling me that daylight saving was just for Persians.
I sat there all morning stewing and because I was an hour early – it was a good one and a half hours of stewing. It was so typical of my mum, I thought to myself. Making me do things that none of the other Aussie kids had to do and acting like it wasn’t different or weird. Winding clocks forward, so weird. Who does that?
I remember being in a foul mood and not even Mrs. E’s offer of a nutella sandwich put me right.
Finally, at 8.30am (and 9.30 am on my wrist watch)Mrs. E bustled us out of the house and we headed off to school. As she dropped us of at the gate, she remarked how strange it was that there were no kids in the playground and told Ellie and I to walk quickly to our classroom.
As we walked through the school gate I remember feeling so burdened by my ethnicity and wished that I could be like Ellie who didn’t have to deal with stupid things like daylight saving.
I lingered outside the classroom, taking a little bit longer than usual to hang my bag on my hook. Ellie skipped into our classroom without a care in the world. Through the door, I saw that everyone was seated at their desks. Our teacher looked up at Ellie and said, “Ellie dear, did your Mum forget about daylight savings?”
Of course, changing time couldn’t just be a Persian thing. I went into class and sheepishly sat down at my desk.
So, these days refugees get a pretty bad wrap. Sadly, the term refugee has become psynomonous with the term ‘boat people’ and all the negative connotations that go with it like queue jumper, terrorist etc. Often times, I don’t think people understand the difference between a refugee and an immigrant.
Immigrants have chosen to leave the country of their birth in search of a better life and better opportunities. Refugees have no other choice than to leave the country of their birth for fear of persecution and sometimes death. That’s why my family is here.
To help dispel all the bad vibes out there at the moment about refugees, every Monday I will post a story about my experiences growing up as a refugee kid in Australia. Let me tell you there are some real doozies. I’ll kick off with a story in a post later today.
In the meantime, happy Monday!
Baby, I’m back! Yep, even though the last attempt at blogging failed dismally, I have an inkling this time will be different. This time, I need it more than it needs me.
In recent weeks, I’ve been feeling down. Not because something dreadful has happened. No, it seems I’ve been feeling down just because. I hate the feeling! To combat it, I’ve been trying to change my patterns. Go out for more walks, wash my hair more often, go out by myself without the baby. And while it has helped it hasn’t worked perfectly, so I’ve decided to reinstate the blog.
I know, the blog as catharsis is not a new concept and it seems to have worked for others, so why not me?
So stay tuned lovelies, this blog is back.
This morning I arrived home from Adelaide. Sadly my getaway was more badelaide than it was radelaide. I barely left my in-laws’ home, I’ve been so sick!
I woke up last Friday with a sore throat and by the time I got on the plane after work I was already crawling down struggle street.
I was supposed to go straight from the airport to work today but I can’t quite control the coughing fits. I start coughing and then I just can’t stop. For an hour. No joke. I have a little crick in my back from the spasmodic coughing.
Every remedy has been exhausted to no avail. On a side note, did you know that in Iran, the humble quince seed is used as a natural cough suppressant? And it really does work. Most of the time.
So, there is an interesting element to this picture that I thought I might share.
In Kanazawa, they create teepee like superstructures around their cherry blossom trees. Why? To protect their fragile branches in case of heavy snowfall in the winter months.
Such a brilliant example of Japanese innovation.
EDIT: I think thisisnaive didn’t take to well to me reposting her pictures and blocked them from my post. So I took the liberty of removing the broken links and images. Sorry dudes!
So many people seem to be revelling in the Northern Hemisphere’s glorious spring season.
But I’m not jealous. So what if bloggers keep posting vibrant photos of flowers in bloom? So what if my friends have wound their clocks forwards but I’ve wound mine back? So what if I keep getting animated emails about summer holiday plans? So what if I’m on a high speed train headed towards another unceremonious winter?
OKay, maybe I’m a little jealous.
I don’t have much of an excuse to whine about winter. Living in Sydney makes me pretty lucky as far as the weather. Winter only lasts two and a half months. And it doesn’t get much colder than 8°C ( for those of you using a non-metric system to calculate the temperature that’s roughly 46° Fahrenheit). And it’s only really cold in June and July.
Still, we poor begotten souls in the Southern Hemisphere are a little time away from being surrounded by flowers in bloom. In the meantime these images of Spring do a pretty good job of sufficing.
Brian Ferry has some great shots of cherry blossoms too here but he wants me to ask before I post his photos. I couldn’t be bothered this time, so I posted a link instead.
There’s something so whimsical about cherry blossoms, don’t you think? My husband and I were in Japan about six weeks ago at the very beginning of the cherry blossom season. And if you compare cherry blossom season to a pregnancy, we were in Japan for the embryonic stage of the Sakura Festival. Not the foetus and most definitely not the birth. Check out some of my snapshots below.
Ah, Nippon. I love you.