Getting to know Parkstone

It feels good to be back in Dorset, the sun sparkling on the harbour and the breeze stirring the firs along the cliffs.  Daffodils are emerging and birds are returning after the wild winds of winter.

It’s nice to be ‘home’.

I don’t enjoy moving.  It’s never fun to tear down and pack up my belongings; never a good feeling to start over with new people in a new place.  So this time, I minimized the physical move, staying within a community and among friends in Sandbanks, searching through the bottomless dross of available ‘lets until I found a situation that felt like a step forward.

My new houseshare is located in Lower Parkstone, the upper-crust part of town close by the very tony mansions cresting Penn Hill.  Woodside’s a nice street, lined with well-kept detached houses occupied by professional couples.  We’re  located a few blocks from the train station, equidistant between Tesco’s and Waitrose, a couple of miles from the Leisure Centre, and close to Penn Central,  a compact triangle of eclectic shops, cafes, and pubs.  It’s a comfortable space, spacious and tree-lined, more active than among the isolated blue-glass mansions set into forested lots in Canford Cliffs.

I share the house with two medical researchers from the Isle of Wight, using the house as a weekday layover to avoid commuting on the astronomically expensive ferry from the mainland, and a delightful couple from Poland.  Everyone’s work schedules dovetail so that nobody competes for bathroom or kitchen access in the morning, and the house seems to empty out on the weekends.  I’ve suggested that it’s a bit of an Amazing Race house: couples with special pre-existing relationships all learning to adapt and complete tasks in the exotic environs of Parkstone.

Still, its a bit further from the beaches and I miss sharing morning coffee when neighbors drop by, but the house is roomy and modern, clean and quiet, and I’ve been settling in well.  We’re all negotiating the shared items (cupboard spaces, hot water kettles, refrigerator shelves) and adding our bits to the community (I’ve contributed a drying rack, microwave, and printer).  We’ve sorted out the shared rules for recycling and laundry, and the back yard gardens show promise for the warmer weather ahead.

In all, its starting to feel like home and I’m learning how to fit my work and my day into the household.  But I’m also keeping a finger in with the realtors, watching for a waterside let on the Peninsula or along the Harbour.  I would love a balcony over a marina or to be within walking distance of the beach.

And its starting to feel possible again.  After a long climb back, the slope may finally be getting easier.

Or maybe I’m just finally getting stronger.

Moving to the Lilac Room

I had to smile as I signed the lease papers this morning: The Lilac Room?   I had a horrible thought of cloying floral smell.  ‘Very…but only in colour,’ promised the agent, returning to the stack of contracts and payment receipts.

Today is moving day, again.  Its an easier one physically,  a more difficult one conceptually than my previous moves.  It took weeks to leave Barrington, transferring carloads of ‘Brit Boxes’ and bits of furniture to Maastricht.  What remained in Sandbanks was only clothes, office supplies, books and papers for the business.  ‘familiar and personal things, but it added up to surprisingly little when piled on my bed this morning.  I folded clothes into suitcases and filled Tesco Freezer bags with organized categories of stray items.

It only took an hour.

Then, ‘once more into the Fiesta, ‘once more onto the streets wedged among my belongings.  The early sunshine gave way to cold grey rain as I drove along Shore Road.

I came down to Sandbanks six months ago as a temporary haven: A wonderful friend gave me the time and space I needed to get a key result for the business, secure my finances and funding, come to terms with my losses, and prepare for life’s next act.  I owe them a lot.

But this move, ill-timed and hastily assembled, feels like backsliding: waiting for the same key result, moving to another temporary house-share, still alone and blown by the wind. 

Why have things come to this, yet again?

People tell me that my circumstances are a direct result of my choices.  But I didn’t ‘chose’ to be moving across Poole today, ‘embrace’ the circumstances of leaving Barrington, ‘seek’ the losses and compromises of the past months.  Nobody would willingly choose to live in such difficult or discouraging times.

But I did choose to build my own businesses, build a new life, move to Europe to do it. Meaningful work, talented people, creative control, keep what I win, travel and culture to share, a full life to create.  I committed, and remain passionate about, those choices.

The link between choice and circumstances is then a question of how?  ‘Not just what methods or which traveling companions, but about how I deal with events and adversity when they happen.  I try to stick with principles, rebuild relationships, stay to the high road, keep a positive outlook, persist when things turn out to be harder and take longer than I thought without becoming frustrated or discouraged.

But its easier in principle than practice.

The new neighborhood looks good, filled with places to explore.  The house has a nice kitchen that I want to break in with a favorite marinara recipe.  I’m meeting my new housemates, and am getting my little lilac office settled into my big lilac room.  It’s only a three month let: time enough to finally resolve things and a nice step above the alternative ‘lets that I visited around Bournemouth and Poole the past two weeks.

It will work out fine for now.  But as I turned in my keys and shut the gate for the last time, I promised myself that I will not do this again.  Ever. 

Next time I move, its with purpose, towards permanence.

Verhuizing

The week filled up quickly, travels to London and Cambridge, working hard on the business, dodging the lakes and valleys where roads used to be.  A lot of good progress but a lot of work to get there: some pivotal activities are starting and my life will once again fork, right or left, in the coming weeks.

Its also time to shift my UK base, moving residence.  I’ve considered returning to Cambridge, would prefer to stay along the Dorset coast, pragmatically need to be close to the business production or clinicals.  Proximity to the train lines and sea are important, it would be nice to be within a few miles of the Leisure Center, food shopping, and café’s.  Flexibility is important for the next few months, I don’t want to sign a long-term lease or buy furnishings.

I was talking about the prospect and the alternatives with friends, getting my mind around what psychic space I was looking for beyond the physical one.  And that relates back to concepts of expat success and failure (perhaps equally to entrepreneurial traits as well, although I haven’t thought that through yet).

I became an expat seeking new opportunities, shared experiences and a better life.  As much as I dislike moving, it’s an evolutionary step along that same road towards something better. I won’t step down with a promise to climb back up later.  So, its important that the destination be a bit aspirational (while still in reach) to advance my happiness and self-respect.

At the same time, expat failure happens when people don’t recognize the importance keeping some familiar things important to them, not allowing them to be given up in moving.  They are often small things, overlooked: Adapting to the speed of grocery checkout or socializing in line waiting, not talking with friends on skype or being visited by family as often as expected, difficulties being understood in a new language or having a social invitation rejected in a new culture.  So, it’s important that I know how to hold onto foundational things important to my everyday life.

Fortunately, the weather has emptied the market of movers, so there are lots of properties available at reasonable rates.  I’ll take the weekend in London / Cambridge to consider all of the possibilities, but I’d like to be moved by month’s end. 

‘lots of work to be done on top of the all my work to be done, unfortunately.

Settling in (III): People

The encircling sea defines Sandbanks, present in every view and framing each day, much as the University gives Cambridge its enduring character.  But the community is formed for me when people start to fill the frame. Three weeks in, I’m starting to fit into the neighbourhood, finding my place with the families living nearby and recognized by the local merchants.

To a large degree, this is due to the change in living arrangements, boarding with a local family rather than tucked into an isolated flat.  The ages and activities of people in the community are a better fit: 45-65, moderately successful, socially outgoing, and comfortable in themselves.  And I’ve made changes that welcome a midday coffee or an evening drink for introductions and conversation.

It all makes a difference.

I work, as I did in Cambridge, from an upstairs office.  The household is the difference: kids flow through with their friends and neighbours drop by for a half-hour chat around the kitchen table.  I similarly used to go have a talk and a nibble in the cafeteria at Physio mid-mornings and afternoons , and I’m rediscovering how necessary and balancing that part of the day is.  It’s easier to keep the negotiations with lawyers and designers in perspective when I’m occasionally interrupted by homework questions or  new puppies.

A group of us were invited to  a neighbours for lunch at mid-week.  They had just finished building a very modern house a couple of blocks away, all recessed lighting and fully-automatic environmental controls and sound systems.  Lunch was a buffet of local seafood and ethnic samplers; conversation flowed from travel plans to politics to boating to gossip. Three hours passed, effortlessly, among the eight of us.  It’s high-end normalcy, but normalcy all the same.

Several times each week, I move out into a local coffee shop for a necessary change from scribbling notes, fielding Skype calls, and hammering out emails.  I mark myself ‘unavailable’ for a few hours: somehow work survives.  The Sandbanks Beach Cafe has been congenial so far: it has a nice view of the sea, free wifi, comfortable chairs,and tasty coffee cakes (although no plugs and premium prices).  Today, the window seats filled as the big ‘St.Jude’ storm blew in from the west.  It was nice: lots of couples sitting together over coffee, watching the surf and chatting quietly. 

It a bit like the Dutch gathering onto the banks and bridges along the Maas when the river rises, or when the ‘storm-chasers’ go to the Vancouver and Oregon coasts when the barometer falls: a shared migration to check the borders, witness wild nature, and share the experiences.

‘Followed by beach-walking in the wind and rain, of course.

 

It’s a nice feeling of connection and community to nurture on arrival in a new place.

Settling in (II): Community

I like living in Dorset a lot.  The sea has endless variety and character for walks, the family and neighbours foster a normal social environment, and I like my aerie where I work and live above the house.   With the move complete and more time to settle in, I’ve started to turn to getting to know the community better, an hour’s exploration every day.

So, then, where do I start?  

What is on your ‘have to find’ list when you move into a new place? 

My list shakes out something like this:

 

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Goods:  Where can I buy stuff?

The nearest villages are Canford Cliffs and Sandbanks, but both are focused on restaurants and real estate offices.  I need to know where the grocery and gas station are, where to buy shoes and housewares.  The general answers lie along the commercial roads leading into Poole , but there’s a fine Tesco Express two blocks away.

Services:  Who can get things done?

This is, first, someone who can dry clean the clothes, service the car, or mail a package.  I’ve got a library card and have sorted out computer access to their copy/scan/ fax services.  I have a local Dutch tutor (first things first!).  And, consistent with balans en grens,  a few of us are trying to sort a shared office assistant (half a day of dedicated time each week would make a huge difference).

Transport:  How do I get from here to there without driving? 

I’ve worn driving paths to the ferries and to London in the car, but really need to get on public transport, both locally and globally.  I’m researching and experimenting with the best way to get to Maastricht from Southampton airport, or beyond from Gatwick or Heathrow.  Where, how often, how long, and how much to get a train to London, Bristol, Nottingham, Sheffield, or Cambridge?  Is there a good link to Southampton or a scenic bus routed along the coast?  Unfortunately, my neighbours are not ‘mass-transit’ sort of folks, so this is grunt internet research.

Health:  How do I stay fit and well?

Walks; fresh sea air, morning or evening when the light is just so.  But I need to figure out where the doctor, dentist, hospital and pharmacy are.  I work with University hospitals,so know people if there were anything serious, but everyday things require some digging  And a fitness centre would be nice, but these folks do more yoga, biking and sailing: the costs probably balance out. My only limit is ‘no kite-surfing’.

Social:  Where do people hang out?

A combination of walking-around and visiting with neighbours gives a good foothold on a restaurant or two, the pub with music, and a coffee shop overlooking the sea. The yacht clubs and schools are a focus for many folks,but those are both outside of my sphere for now (although I’ve gladly accepted guest invitations to both).  There are plans afoot to visit parks, museums, and MENSA mixer evenings; a neighbour is hosting a tea this afternoon.

Local colour: How can I get involved.

There is lots of money sloshing around (the fabled ‘widows and orphans’ investors) so I’ve reached out angels in the local investment community to see if there are mentoring and diligence opportunities.  The boating connections are also pretty fruitful: people have suggested a couple of places to learn dinghy sailing or to join a club.  All I need is some wet-suit bits to keep me warm.  And then there’s the planning for New Year’s parties, well underway in October.

Personal spaces:  Where do I feel most comfortable?

There needs to be someplace where I go to relax and renew. Somewhere that I can take a friend for a quiet conversation, or just sit and watch the waves or walk at the sunset.  Someplace for inspiration and renewal.  Its bigger than a park or a pub, closer than Lulworth Cove or the New Forest.  I know the feeling I want, just not the instantiation yet.

Settling in (I): Home and work

With everything in Cambridge closed out and all of the household things moved and re-distributed, I’m ready to settle into the next phase of things.  My temptation, as ever, is to get back on track towards  long-term goals, re-affirm things that matter in life, and make the most of the abundant opportunities at hand in Dorset. 

But over coffee or beers, friends have counselled that this is a time to take a break from all of that.   It would be better to relax, live differently, experience the people and places, and focus on this moment rather than past or future ones.

My home and office are on the third floor of a mansion in Poole, a block from the beach.  I think the home must be worth several million gbp: it has an electric gate, expansive woods,  and a green belt behind it.  The living areas are huge and well-appointed, a bit more towards American styles even though the family is very British.

The family is warm and friendly, there’s active social and school life rushing through the house and I get included in coffee conversations when neighbours drop by and occasionally pick up the kids from school.   The refurnished the bedroom for me, it’s quiet and comfortable, and my office has relocated up the hall to the children’s craft room.  It’s a comfortable clutter with a bird clock that chirps the half hours, an aerie above the household bustle downstairs.

I’ve been settling in, making choices about how to live, what to have here, and how to arrange my time.  I’m trying to keep to the Dutch principles that ’work’ and ‘not-work’ times and places should be separate.  The ‘office’ is open from 9-5, and I have put all my computers, coffeemakers, and papers away in there.  Rewiring with multiplier outlets and organizing shelf space is complete, and the days have started to become productive, less empty than “Office days” felt like in Cambridge.

At the other end of the hall, I’ve got the bedroom functional, but am still figuring out the living / dining arrangements. The family gathers in the living room every evening for TV, computer work, and conversation, and its becoming a comfortable routine.  I do a bit of study or writing, flip articles back and forth with them, or join in the planning for quiz night or New Year’s Eve.  I’ve gradually expanded into the kitchen and laundry, just breakfast, lunch, and linens so far with a dedicated corner of the refrigerator and a clothes hamper.  I’m making sure to contribute back into shared milk and fruits that everyone uses: (‘not the typical life approaching 60!). 

The neighbours dropping by, the occasional trips to town to do school pickups, the store errands all have a lovely normalcy to them.   I’m listening to the mP3 player a lot less and learning about ‘sixth form’ and netball more.  I still wake a 4 am with too many running thoughts, but the wind in the trees is good balm for the spirit.

It’s a cross between family life and college life, and will work well for the next few months. My friends are right: the plans and goals can wait.

I worry a bit that it’s too detached a life: work is apart from people and meetings in Cambridge, the car and the days are my own, the family is good company but makes no demands.  There is the opportunity to slide into a lot of bad habits amidst this peaceful life.

I’ve disciplined myself to travel less, keep work in bounds, sit down for coffee and conversation, make time to get off the third floor and into the community and onto the beaches every day.  A month of just living in this moment, taking it all in and arranging a quieter life around me, seems like what I need. 

Hello, Awesome

It’s like solving a “the ferry, fox, goose, and bag of beans across the river “ puzzle.  The Fiesta won’t hold everything, so I’ve had to move in stages to the office at St. Johns, then on to the south coast.  Traffic on the M25 Orbital was surprisingly light for today’s run; I kept good time with the first load down through Southampton, Poole and finally into Sandbanks.

I’ve rented the third floor of a family home a block from the beach, close enough for some good walks and seaside coffees.  There’s a big furnished bedroom, bathroom, and study for half what I paid in Cambridge, kitchen privileges and fast Internet, a busy family downstairs for company, and a new region of the country to explore.  I’m looking  forward to comparing the New Forest to the Lake District, seeing Portsmouth and the Isle of Wight, and getting to know Cornwall better.

Even though it’s 3 hours from Cambridge, it’s much closer to our clinical trial sites in Southampton and the operational work in Bristol, and not much further from London investors or cross-channel ferries.  Most of all, I need the change of scenery and some new people to be with for a few months while I figure out my life’s next stage.

It’s grey cloudy and warm, blowing drizzle today: my hair is vertical after minutes on the beach.  'Really very different from Cambridgeshire (or current home-base Maastricht).  I got a wrap and a coke from the Tesco Express and sat along the seawall, just watching the waves and listening to the gulls.

   

A Seattle-based friend suggests that I’ve come full-circle; it’s not particularly different than Puget Sound this time of year.  Brit-buddies all comment that it’s the most expensive postal code in the country.  Everyone seems to think it’s a good move, though.

It will be an experience to watch the seasons unfold , the interplay between sea and sky, how the wind tosses the treetops and paints patterns with sand.  I hope to do more biking or sailing, have evenings for reading and writing (and the new season of the Amazing Race).  I’ve already got a few invitations to come to neighborhood events to meet a few people.  There’s even the possibility of pool access at the house next door.

‘Hello, Awesome: I’m looking forward to getting to know you better.

Wrapping things up in Barrington

Everything is just about packed and out now.  The truck came yesterday morning to pick up the larger pieces; I took a carload of smaller things to work for temporary storage before redistributing them in a few days.

Frustratingly, I had some vandalism in the back yard while I was at work yesterday.  Nothing major and the house wasn’t broken into, but it may have been a reaction to the truck’s departure.

I talked with my landlord and there isn’t much to do: the neighbors are not apologizing and still have keys that they took.  She suggests that I just pack and go, likely a day earlier than I’d hoped. 

I just want to leave without incident, but it’s becoming harder.

A friend and I were reflecting over a beer about how we choose a place to live.  It’s aspirational: we want a better life, proximity to family, friends, and opportunities, someplace that we think we’ll fit into and build a new life.

There’s always a leap of faith in moving someplace unfamiliar.  I trust that the house is sound, the setting peaceful, the neighbors  congenial with values and outlooks that I share.  And the first year is a test, reaching out, making social connections, finding friends, exchanging favors.  Eventually, I do feel like  part of the community, recognizing folks and joining events.  And most everyone was very welcoming and inclusive.

Village life had a lot to offer, and I’m happy to have had the experience.  Most people had deep roots and a lot of pride in the homes and relationships along the Green.  I’ll miss the sports matches, the social gatherings, the lazy twilights talking and laughing over a good meal or a drink in the yard.

I’d hoped for more of the Cambridge experience in living here, but 10 km is a surprisingly big distance.  I can chase up people and academic lectures, join Formal Halls and festivals, attend  theater performances, Chase evenings, and Chemistry Department Christmas tastings (all wonderful). But I’ve learned that I’m not  really a part of the University unless I’m in the University.

Still, I leave with good memories of the years spent here.

So, I made a celebratory dinner and toasted the life I’m leaving tomorrow.

Then, onward as ever with the 13 boxes that make up an expat’s ‘home’ and and optimism for the future.