Simple and complex

A while ago, before I began following the Daily Post, the photo challenge suggested ‘simple’ as a theme. I was glad not to need to try that, as I can never see ‘simple’ without wondering if it is really.

Glass of water on the kitchen table

This is a glass of water, on my kitchen table.

Water – from the tap which is quite good tasting and certainly drinkable here, but I expect there are ‘things’ in it besides water. The Scottish Water Board or whoever they are now that everything is owned by some corporation registered somewhere in the some distant part of the world might be annoyed at this suggestion. H2O – not really simple! Scottish Water, not very simple either. Different meaning to simple there.

But when I, me, looks at this photo, I see the table. The photo can show grain in the wood, it’s an old table, how many other things have sat there? what tree grew and fell to make it? That’s not really what I see – for me there is the history of where and when I bought it (in a second hand shop up Causewayside, brought home in the boot, tailgate open, of the Honda, last car I owned) – settling in to here where I have now lived longer than anywhere else I have lived, why did I need a kitchen table…because my then just become ex got the other one…  all the people who have sat there since, Cindy writing her essays, Daowen teaching me chinese, … memories memories.

Who would know all that but me?

“Simple” or “complex” depends on the viewer as well as the view, does it not?

I got a phone call on Sunday, unexpected and delightful, from J my friend from New Zealand. She reads this blog, we email etc. but it is wonderful to hear her voice. We were chatting about the others we know and care about and some sadness at recent deaths, though these had been in old age. And we talked about the history of someone’s life, another person we both know. On the surface, a pleasant, quiet woman, maybe 80 already, maybe just getting there. But once you have talked with her a little, what a number of things have been in that life, and how many different experiences and places. This is my experience of everyone, young as well as old, once you start listening, the unique stories are there in layer upon layer of experience.

Just an egg…

Not simple at all – hugely interesting and complex, here is another photo pretty obviously  simple or complex depending on whether you are thinking outside or inside.

This notion of how anything can seem simple, or complex, depending on the way you happen to look, grew in my head because Sidey’s weekend theme this week in CONTRASTS. [I had been thinking of lots of stories from the sublime to the ridiculous, and not able to blog them as no matter how I looked they were embarrassing, to me or someone else. I am always wondering how to blog when anyone can look and read, and just love seeing how other people do it with such grace and/or humour that it works.]

One young person in my life at the moment is Paul, who was 7 years old last week, he and his mother share my flat, so I see him every day. In a short life he has been living on three different continents, he has experienced very different education systems and styles, he is bilingual, and he is well-adjusted, cheerful, likes football and swimming and in conversation will come up with all sorts of questions. He knows life is very interesting and varied. I think everyone does, even if they do not have the range of different experiences he has had. A first look says he is not-scottish, different, a second says he is like any 7 year old boy, a third he is lively and also ‘good’, aware of adults and well behaved, a fourth… well just look, listen, get to know.

However, not everyone seems to manage living with different experiences, and not everyone seems to experience difference happily, with interest. Contrast is a good theme – lets go for celebration of difference. Look for the inside or the outside, on the surface or under it, find stories hidden in the grain of the wood, use imagination and empathy, hurray for difference. Hurray for the contrasts we find everywhere.

[Doesn't mean they are all easy to live with, or that some can't be judged as NOT good at all, like the obscenes of poverty/wealth, destructive behaviour, ... just look for the layers before judging... and what a lot of interesting stuff there is around.]

 

 

 

 

Miracle

Another one for Sidey’s Weekend Theme:Birth. My friend Norma Chick, a wonderful poet who lives in New Zealand, wrote this when her first grandson was born.And then I thought you might like to hear how I felt when I heard I was going to have a grandchild – so I have posted that one too if you read that far down.

And then there was the word

for León

Birth

your arrival

our first grandchild

hopes fulfilled, dream realized

cue for release of all those

apposite waiting words

poetry would write itself.

The reality

was not at all like that

instead one word

Miracle

took centre place

filled all the space.

Not original

but there it was – manifest

feisty, fighting back

refusing relegation

to the commonplace of cliché.

Senses recognized the rightness

heart knew the truth.

Scarcely an hour from the womb

creamy vernix not yet washed away

you lay tucked at your mother’s side

eyes closed, relaxed

already at home in the world.

Call it message, mystery, marvel,

those are parts only, not the whole.

Miracle has no synonym.

N.C. Aug 2009

Phone Call over the Atlantic

for Fiona

Mom, How are you, are you well

I have something to tell you

It might be unexpected.

What is this voice of hope and trepidation

I have not heard before?

But I hear something

I am joyous, my heart bouncing already

And he says’Wendy’s pregnant’.

And then I am over the moon.

Happy, saying I am over the moon

before I remember he said unexpected

Round me I try to focus on the February day

The phone in my hand

the sofa I’m sitting on

the rain dripping down the Edinburgh window

Trying to stop my joy leaping and flying

So I can listen to what he is saying.

But we are talking together,

Me ‘is it Ok?’ ‘did you mean to?’ is Wendy well?’

Him ‘we’re so happy, didn’t know how you’d take it

Me ‘Well now you know’ and words

spill over the long long miles

joy and laughter leaping

till the ocean disappears

under our torrent of joy.

Oh love for once feeling and saying

the exact right thing together

with my distant son, his Wendy

and that fine beginning

to knowing my first grandchild.

EC written April 2009, but the phone call was in 2000. Now she is TALLER than me!!

Related articles

• Birth and Poetry Writing (elspethc.wordpress.com)

Hai Wan tourist trip

On Friday, 11.11.11, the boys kindergarten went on a tourist trip to HaiWan. The school blurb about the trip – which Donal had to get translated as Cindy was away for the week – said the class would go fruit picking, go to the beach, fly kites and have a treasure hunt – and would thus learn all sorts about nature and teamwork and many other things including bond with their parents who were compulsory on the trip. The latter being a non-starter, our two wonderkids were getting to bond with granny (if they have not done so already – I am hoping this was a translation matter rather than what was really being said). And, of course, they heard only the word BEACH and their memories of New Zealand surfaced and nothing Donal or I could say dimmed their enthusiasm.We didn’t want them to be disappointed, and although we did not know at all what to expect, we did know that a chinese beach, just an hour’s drive from Shanghai, would not match up to Manawatu or Wanganui, or even Lake Taupo.

This being so, in spite of having to rendezvous at 7.30 and get up earlier than usual, we were out of the house and at the coach departure point before the teachers arrived. Granny was of course carrying  a full bag which I thought would be sufficient emergency stuff for two boys and laughed to see many of the chinese grandparents or parents, each of whom had only one child to bond with, one of them even had a wheelie suitcase. Do they know something I do not… yes indeed they do… see later. We were all given a packed lunch, water, bread rolls and apple, and of course I got two bags. When we (zhong wu class , i.e middle 5) had all gathered, there was a roll call for the 26 children in the group and a rapid talk in chinese. Two nice mothers realised I might not follow and kindly told me I would be in bus 9, although they were in bus 2. I noticed thankfully that one of the boys’ friends, Yuan Yuan and her grandfather who speaks some English, were also lining up in the bus 9 row. Then we all filed out to the buses – there were about 20! and many many more lines of children from other classes and maybe even other schools. Bus 9 had a big 紫薇(zi wei) 9 on the front, and a guide with an orange flag, which I pointed out to Louis and Ali and said we must always remember this bus and this guide. We got on, I grabbed four seats by putting Ali and Louis on one side and I sat across the aisle from them with my bag. As we had four seats, and everyone else only needed two, when all ready to go we also got the new teacher, Dong Laoshi, who had only arrived in their class the week before. Ali came to sit with me and Dong Laoshi sat with Louis. This was great – she was so helpful all the way and also got on wonderfully with both boys, so it was clear she knew them well already.

Then we got to the tourist site, bus parked on the road and we had to walk along to the entrance, cars flying by. I can see why parents had to come too, and for the first of many times that day was extremely glad I was not one of the teachers. The first ‘event’ was treasure hunting, but I didn’t know that as the instructions were as always in chinese. We were in a large grassy area, with some bushes and ditches and Louis and Ali just saw places to jump and took off to have a whale of a time. there were people throwing lots of plastic toys around, and all the other kids were holding a parent hand and running about picking them up. It reminded me of the Easter day candy hunt on Block Island with about ten times more kids. When I finally got Louis and Ali back from ditch jumping, it dawned on Louis that all his mates had toys and he did not – Ali didn’t care but he did. Some of the parents had at least ten, and fortunately a couple of them gave each of the boys a toy – a blow out whistle.

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I could write for hours about all the daft details, like the fishing which meant putting on boots and getting into a concrete tank into which someone had dumped fish. Most of the other parents had them safely caught into plastic bags, ready for dinner, before I even got the boys boots on. After that the guide realised I hadn’t a clue, so she started looking after me. Next was the dragon boat where we all had orange life-jackets to put on, and I only had to do my own. There were eight cross benches to a boat and paddles for all, we were on the second bench and both boys were great – they were really thrilled to be rowing [though the guy at the back with a big steering paddle managed complete control up and down a big lake]. Then we had the kites, the wind was just about right and we were told to come back to this spot at 12.15 so everyone had picnic lunch here too. I found out what all the other parents had in their big bags, no simple rolls and apple for those who had been on trips before. They all shared everything, so there were kids running all over practically forcing food, especially cake and sweets on everyone else. We enjoyed everything.

Then it was back to the bus, on to the beach, and holiday rides on swingboats and a kids roller coaster. I had to go on with them and I do NOT like roller coasters, but giant swing boats are even worse. Ali would not go on that, he had been on one before, so he stayed with Dong Laoshi while Louis and I went on. Louis loved it, I was very very glad when it was over! Then we passed three horses, and had rides there too, which were much longer than I expected and far better value than any I have been on elsewhere.

Back to try to find the bus, on the bus, off the bus, etc etc we are getting good at finding 紫薇 9 with its blue front and triple silver curve logo and orange curtains. The last activity was not fruit picking, but POTATO DIGGING!! Home experience for an Irish granny. Actually it was sweet potato, or kumara, as New Zealanders call it, but seemed much the same and all the kids loved it so I added a large bag of kumara to the carry home items. Now I really know why the chinese parents came prepared with big big bags. When we finally got back to Guiping Lu / Pubei Lu coach stop, some of them had their evening meal of fish and kumara plus left-over lunch and candy. Ali and Louis carried our bags of potatoes proudly home.

I think it was an amazing day out, great for children, most of whom are city kids, but Oh I was so glad I was not one of the teachers who had to count us in and out of those buses.

Final unexpected event, the next day, Saturday, as we came home from an ordinary quiet morning at the recreation grounds, we passed some of the Suzhou coaches at their usual terminus. And there it was, blue front and triple silver curve logo and orange curtains, even without a number 9, OUR BUS. Ali and Louis said Hey, our bus, and went up the step and chatted to their friend the driver. We seem to have friends all over Shanghai, or at least, in this small corner of a big city.

Walking to … and from … school

After birthday excitement, where presents continued to be very successful choices, foot high roaring dinosaur for Louis and noisy truck for Ali, and appreciative boys for grown-ups, the next day was Thursday 1st September and first day of new school. Now, the ‘old’ school was just five minutes boy-walk from our door, so was very convenient, and the new one has been granny-tried every which way, and the distance was going to be half-hour if we walked, half-hour if we went on the bus (walk to stop, wait, bus goes three sides of a square, walk from other end) and if-it-rains we will get a taxi – unknown wait time at 8am? Granny solution (bike and boys on the back chinese style) has understandably been vetoed by parents, so Cindy and I thought we would do the first day by taxi, so the would arrive happy and fresh. She had been asked to bring them a little late, as ‘new’ boys, and had arranged to go in to her work late so she could come with me and do the necessary talk to teachers etc in chinese, without mis-understanding.

Well, you have heard about best-laid plans I am sure. On Thursday all was fairly well as arranged except that Granny had not yet been informed that they began school late on their first day, so was saying no play with new toys till after school, and then had to change mind and say Yes play with new toys because Mummy is not ready to come with us yet and we are going later. The effect of this is very happy boys, Granny  you were wrong, and they had a very nice time playing. When Mummy said she was ready and Time to go, Zou ba Zou ba, they were keen to put on shoes and get out the door to ‘get in the taxi’. But, on the street, not only one taxi, but loads of them and cars and lorries and all, all totally immobile, and honking horns as loudly as possible as the chinese drivers do, and Cindy and I just looked at each other and said “Walk!”. The cause was an accident further along, and with sympathy for whoever was involved it could not have been better for us. The walk was instant enjoyment, going past all the horn-honkers, dodging the bikes and motor bikes which also took to the pavement, and generally losing their (minor) apprehensions about new school in talking non-stop about the mayhem which lasted all the way to school.

So, it also became clear that ‘walk-to-school’ was not too hard for little legs. The walk home, which we had not had any worries about because there would never be any urgency about getting home, has also been even better than anticipated. There are three landmarks they know well. From the school, ZiWei Shanghai Experimental Kindergarten in Guilin Street East, we walk to the Guilin Road crossing, a big big road with traffic lights and the ubiqitous red man green man which no driver in China pays any heed to whatever, but we look for him anyway, and manage well enough in the torrent of bicycles which go on green. Next stop is ‘the river’ which has a nice bridge to cross and look through or over, shaded walk-ways and parkland to the PuBei Road bridge on the East, and a market running alongside the river on the west. After that, still on Guilin Street West, which is one-way and mainly residential, we come to very familiar territory, our favourite “running track” recreation ground. Louis and Ali could find their own way home from here, but they do not, they stop and in we go for lots of energetic play and fun so that when we got home yesterday it was nearly 6pm and they were very happy to settle down and play with the new toys. Just as well, as Granny was feeling ancient.

The recreation ground was buzzing with just-out-of-school children, and we met some of their previous classmates from KidCastle kindergarten. Louis was brilliant, sharing his new dinosaur with them all for playing, and Ali thoroughly enjoyed a see-saw and a lot of running around with some other kids. I hadn’t seem them interacting separately with others before, great to see. They still get a huge amount of attention from the other parents and grandparents, and both boys are now answering confidently in chinese, but are puzzled and ask Donal and I why everyone talks to them so much. (Maybe they will get fed-up with it like I do.) We try to explain why people always ask ‘where are you from?’, ‘do you speak chinese?’ etc. Half British, half chinese, half New-Zealand boys, Louis always says he is a New Zealand boy, but they sometimes want to be American like Ruby and Rory and Fiona, and we only mention Ireland now and again, where grandpa George lives, or Scotland where Uncle Neill is. It is just as well they do not do math yet, too many halfs all round. Cindy has just come home with a world-globe.

Whatever they are, they do seem happy.

xxxx