12 April 2009

Brandon has just placed before me a steaming chai tea latté, a dusting of cinnamon sits on the foam which floats atop perfectly steeped chai tea. Just one of the many morning/afternoon/evening delights I’m treated to now.
An espresso maker – the Breville 800-series – is Brandon’s new baby. He sings the praises of “TradeMe,” a kiwi version of e-bay, where he purchased the six hundred dollar machine for two hundred. So, each morning when I step out of the shower, then into the chill of the hallway, I find a hot latté waiting for me in the hands of my husband.
Another of our TradeMe bargains is my new baby, a one-hundred year old Burling&Mansfield upright piano. For sixty-five dollars, I acquired the instrument I thought I’d have to wait years to own. But, as the price indicated, if it was a gem, it was hidden. Between cobwebs. Beneath the hundreds of spider carcasses which were entombed within its frame. However, a few hours of vacuuming, wiping, polishing, and the magic ears of a Scottish tuner have made a dream come true.
Now, when I come home from a long day at school, I drop my bag and head straight for the piano. Mozart’s Sonata in G Major, Bach’s Adagissimo and Sonfonia No. 15 in B Minor, it’s as if the stress flows out my fingers and is discarded somewhere between the harmony and the melody.
Enough of that – if you want to hear more, check out “Where the Music Comes From” on my creative writing blog (www.myurgentdeadline.blogspot.com).
Something that warms our hearts more than music or coffee is the correspondence we’ve received from home. Some friends here warned that as time passes, our friends in Canada will slowly forget about us. The principle of “out of sight, out of mind.” However, we were thrilled when Brandon’s Nana and Papa Goodkey sent us a card full of photos and a note full of love and well-wishes. We’ve also had word to watch for a care package in the post, a blessing even in anticipation.
But that reminds me, our hearts aren’t the only things that need warming. Our toes, our fingers, the tips of our noses, they’re all freezing. That’s not to say that it’s all that cold here in Autumn, it’s just that the temperature outside – be it ten degrees or fifteen or twenty – is the temperature inside. There is no insulation in the walls, the windows are single-paned, and we have no central heating. The other night, we were each wrapped in a mountain of blankets, wearing umpteen layers of clothing, and still, we couldn’t warm up. So, we’ve purchased a “column heater” with eleven fins, which slowly heats the room it’s in. Yet another kiwi quirk.

It’s now been three months. A quarter of a year. We miss you all and wish you were here.