Where does the time go?
It's been a month since Christmas, which means a month since our last holiday.
It's coming up a year since I had my last day at APNZ (Feb 1 to be precise).
And its' been 238 days since we left New Zealand.
Somewhere along the way we've landed in London; calling one of the largest cities in this world our home.
It still doesn't quite feel real.
When I left New Zealand for India all those years ago (again; where does the time go?) I expected culture shock, and I got it. But I never expected it of London. New Zealand is just another leg of England, isn't it.
Half my blood comes from there. I am as much British as I am Kiwi, technically. I even have a piece of paper to prove it.
But it's in the subtleties. A space I cannot put my finger on; a gap in cultures which meant landing in England, and more specifically London, also delivered culture shock. Maybe it's the rows on rows of three-storey brick terraced houses, caving in around you. Or the dirt you are constantly peeling off your face. Maybe it's the red double-decker buses which zoom past at a scarily close distance as you walk to the supermarket. Or the people. Everywhere. Always.
London bustles, which gives time a whole new meaning. And I guess it's in there somewhere, that the last part of my life has gone. I see now; that's where the time has gone.
- Hana
It's been a month since Christmas, which means a month since our last holiday.
It's coming up a year since I had my last day at APNZ (Feb 1 to be precise).
And its' been 238 days since we left New Zealand.
Somewhere along the way we've landed in London; calling one of the largest cities in this world our home.
It still doesn't quite feel real.
When I left New Zealand for India all those years ago (again; where does the time go?) I expected culture shock, and I got it. But I never expected it of London. New Zealand is just another leg of England, isn't it.
Half my blood comes from there. I am as much British as I am Kiwi, technically. I even have a piece of paper to prove it.
But it's in the subtleties. A space I cannot put my finger on; a gap in cultures which meant landing in England, and more specifically London, also delivered culture shock. Maybe it's the rows on rows of three-storey brick terraced houses, caving in around you. Or the dirt you are constantly peeling off your face. Maybe it's the red double-decker buses which zoom past at a scarily close distance as you walk to the supermarket. Or the people. Everywhere. Always.
London bustles, which gives time a whole new meaning. And I guess it's in there somewhere, that the last part of my life has gone. I see now; that's where the time has gone.
- Hana
Yes I found the same thing - was surprised how alien the UK was, we grow up thinking it's the motherland but it's another culture altogether
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