in which clementine meets everyone

One of the great joys of being here has been watching my friends and family meet Clementine. So far, she has met:

1. Mateo - my little brother, her uncle. He is hilarious with her; every time he's home when she is, he yells "selfie time!" and whips out his phone to take photos. The results are hysterical (this one is my favourite ever).

2. Abuela - Ok, so my mom has met Clementine already, but no one is happier to see her than she is!

3. Grandpa - my dad, her Canadian grandpa. It was pretty great to watch my dad sit and make funny noises for Clementine's amusement. She was quite taken with him.

4. Andrea - my friend from highschool. She gets 4 photos because C was so damn cute that day. Andrea's great with babies, the perfect aunt.

5. Rochelle - one of my mom's best friends, who I've always thought of as my aunt. Rochelle just adores Clementine and showered us with a bag filled with baby gifts!

6. Vanessa - we met way back when we were competitive gymnasts, and despite a rocky start, we became the best of friends. She's the person I originally travelled to Australia with, and the friend I was with when I first met my husband. Next year she's getting married and I'm a bridesmaid, can't wait!

7. Carol - Katrina's mom, and a close family friend. We've had two backyard meals at their house this week and it has been lovely.

8. Pierrette - one of my mom's oldest friends and another aunt like figure in my life. The first time she met Clementine, she was naked and peed all over Pierrette's skirt. Pierrette just laughed.

9. Katrina - my oldest friend. We met in kindergarten. It is just so great to watch people who I have known forever playing with my baby. It's the best.

my mom

"We cry for home, and for flowers on tables, and biscuits in little tins, and for mother; and we feel embarrassed, and foolish too, that we should be crying for such things; but we should not feel that way because all of us, in a sense, have strayed from home, and wish to return."
            - The Dog Who Came in From the Cold, Alexander McCall Smith

This quote jumped out at me last night as I lay in bed reading my book. It was a sad day and I cried a lot, for little things that remind me of home and for my mother. She flew back to Canada yesterday, and I miss her already. This is the hard part about being an expat, the airport goodbyes and the months or years without seeing your people, your family, in person.

In the 4 weeks that my mom was here she cooked, shopped, cleaned, ran errands, did laundry, bathed and dressed the baby, and kept me company. She took Clementine, anytime, day or night to help me out. The early shift quickly became grandma time, allowing me a couple of blissful hours of extra sleep. Our days settled into a comfortable rhythm of late mornings followed by an outing, whether it was to run an errand or simply go for a walk and grab a coffee with a sweet treat. Afternoons were for naps and reading, and in the evening we would watch the news while I nursed Clementine and my mom cooked dinner. It was simple, and lovely.

I am so glad that my mom was able to spend so much quality time with her granddaughter, and so grateful for all the help she gave me. Thankfully it's just under 2 months until my husband, Clementine and I go to Canada for two whole months. I can't wait!

thank you and an update

My grandmother died today. When I wrote my post last night, I said that her cancer was progressing fast, but I don't think any of us realized how fast. I woke up to the news, and I was am so shocked at the suddenness of it all. I was praying that she would get to meet her great grandbaby, via skype at the very least. I am grateful though that she passed very peacefully surrounded by her husband, children and grandchildren. And I'm glad that my mom flies to Bogota tomorrow, where she will at least have the comfort of her family.

Today I thought about my grandmother, her deep love for her family, her practicality and her ability to make absolutely anything. She crafted every piece of clothing that her 5 children wore, and that includes socks and underwear. Having inherited her crafty gene, I decided to spend my day sewing. I made two dolls (will be blogged on Thursday) and it was exactly what I needed.

Finally, I just wanted to say thank you for all of your sweet comments on my post yesterday. I got to read them after I heard of her passing, and they made me feel so comforted and loved. So thank you xo

on being half colombian

photos from cartagena, old and new

Recently, a sweet reader emailed me to ask if I could write some more about being Colombian, and travelling in Colombia. It's something I've been meaning to write about anyway, so I'm thankful for the encouragement! Today, I'll share a bit more about my family and our story and next week I'll write my Colombia travel tips.

My mom grew up in a big Colombian family in Bogota. Educated at an American school run by nuns, she was basically fluent in English and decided to go to university in Canada or the US. She somehow ended up under the impression that Vancouver was "practically tropical" (we tease her about it to this day) and decided to do her undergrad at SFU. There, she met my dad, a Canadian from the other side of the country.

Over the next decade or so they moved back and forth between Colombia and Canada. My dad learned Spanish and fell in love with a continent that, to this day, is his favourite place on earth. When I came along they were living in Vancouver, but the three of us moved down south when I was only a couple of months old. They never did live in Bogota though; both preferring the tropical climate and pull of the coast. For my first few years of life we lived in Cartagena, in the historic old city.

Cartagena is like a fairy tale city. Surrounded by la muralla, a huge wall built in the 16th century to protect the city from pirates, it melds colonial architecture with lush tropical colours and Caribbean influences. It is so, so hot but my dad loved it and would regularly be out riding his bike at midday when everyone else was having a siesta. I don't really remember living there, but I'm pretty sure we were having a good time. My dad leading scuba diving tour groups and my mom teaching English. But it was the 80's and the height of the drug wars. Cartagena became more and more dangerous, and a car bomb exploding near our house while I was outside playing was the last straw. We moved back to ever-so-safe Vancouver.

The funniest part of this story is that when we got back to Canada, I didn't speak any English. My Canadian grandmother remembers me as a toddler, yammering nonstop in a language she couldn't understand. Apparently I didn't mind. And I did learn English, pretty quickly.

Because my mom is the only member of her family who ever left Colombia, we went back to visit as often as we could. My brother and I loved going to Bogota to hang out with our cousins, even though he doesn't really speak Spanish and I stuck out like a sore thumb thanks to my glaringly white skin and green eyes. Nevertheless, it's a place that feels like home, every time I arrive.

I haven't been back in over 5 years now, mostly because Australia is damn far and I've been focusing on seeing this part of the world. I miss it though. Every time I hear someone South American speaking Spanish I think of my mom and her family. I can't wait to go back someday and show my husband around; I know he'll love it.

baby me
missing colombia
my family, vintage

me as a kid

Whenever I come home, I always end up pulling out all of our old photo albums and spending hours poring over their pages. Last week I asked my mom to scan some of them so I could have digital copies, which is how I was able to post some of my baby photos.

Today, I wanted to share a few of my childhood photos, mostly from our time in Canada. Have a look...

I was so blond!

Isn't my mom's dress so cool? I wish she had saved it!

Ok, this photo really cracks me up! I think it illustrates pretty perfectly how I felt about my position as only child being usurped by the arrival of my little brother. It's ok though, we like each other now :)

Fast forwarding a bit here, this is me at prom. This scan didn't work that well though, hence the weird mark under my nose.

baby me

Shortly after I was born, my parents whisked me off to Colombia, where we settled for the next few years. We lived in a beautiful and oh so romantic city (you can see photos from the last time I visited here) and my dad is a photographer, which means that I have some pretty great baby photos. Of course, it doesn't hurt that my parents were both so good looking!

a letter (to my dog)

I call this one 'Scout's headshot.' Anyone need a dog model?

{all photos taken by me on the island}

Dear Scout,

I was quite worried when I first got back to Vancouver that you wouldn't recognize me. After all, it had been 2 and half years, and I'm not really sure what a dog's long term memory is like. Sure enough, right at first you didn't seem to know who I was. You sniffed me and then trotted off to get more pats from my dad and my brother. But shortly thereafter you came back to me, and I'm pretty sure you knew me.

When we were younger, Mateo and I used to try to convince our dad to get a pet. A cat. A hamster. A fish. Anything! His answer was always the same: "Too much responsibility. No pets." Which is why we were all the more surprised when he called one day - I was in 1st year, Mateo was in high school - to say that he had bought a puppy.

Mateo and I jumped in the car and raced over to our dad's place, where we burst in so loudly that you immediately peed everywhere. You were this tiny ball of fluff and we loved you immediately.

More recently, I went to visit you and my dad on the island. You slept in my room and woke me up in the morning with slobbery dog kisses. I'm pretty sure you remember me. One day I wanted to go for a walk to a beautiful seaside park, but I didn't know how to get back to my dad's. He dropped us off at the park and said, "Just follow Scout back, she knows the way."

We started walking and right away I thought you were lost. I kept thinking that there was no way you would get us home, I mean, how would you even know that I wanted to get back to the house? But I kept following you, on the roads, through the trails and all the way to the house. Of course.

You are a smart cookie.

love,

that girl who lets you get away with anything because you're so damn cute

p.s. I realize that this post places me firmly in the camp of those-crazy-dog-people but I don't really care.

from the island

For as long as I can remember, my family have visited one of the small gulf islands off the coast of Vancouver island. Over the years I've been there with my parents, my brother, old boyfriends, and friends, old and new.

Now when I go there, it's to visit my dad who has since made the island his home. But this being a long weekend, it seemed that everyone I knew was there at the same time! It was so wonderful to spend quiet time in the bush (as we would say in Australia), but also to reconnect with old, old friends.

Of course, it was also nice to hang out with my dad at his favourite cafe. He's so Canadian - always wearing some variation of jeans and flannel.

One of my oldest friends is also living on the island right now, with a cat and 4 chickens. This is one of her chickens.

There's something so refreshing about spending time with old friends, hearing their news and sharing yours.

side note: this is my favourite photo that I've taken on this trip home. It just screams pacific northwest to me.

I just read this post on the beautiful blog, Andrew and Carissa, and I kept thinking "yes! that's exactly how I feel about being home." I would have to say that the word grounded perfectly describes how I feel here.