Bike Racing by a non-racer (and non-report writer!)

This post was written for the ANZA cycling club weekly blog, the RTI, back in July, which can be found here.

Our esteemed RTI editors asked me to write a race report after taking part in the Tri-Factor Bike race on Sunday, the second installment of this year’s Tri-Factor series.

This is all well and good. Except:

• I have no idea how to write a race report… (goes and looks at the recent RTI editions….)
• I realised I generally skim-read the race reports….(ahem, whoops?)
• I cant normally remember what I had for dinner last night, let alone what happened at some god-forsaken hour on Sunday morning…

But hey, let’s give it a whirl!

The skim-read version (ahem):

1. What?
Straight up, crit-style, all-out bike race. I did the 35km distance race, so 5 laps of 7kms each (there were also options of 56km or 21km – when signing up I decided to ‘man up’ a bit, but as this was a first attempt, I thought I’d leave the 56km ‘race report’ for the big boys)

2. Where?
The course was set out around Republic Avenue and Nicoll Highway (a much more interesting route than up and down Changi airport road in my opinion – for spectators and competitors alike!), though the crazy configuration did mean there were 4 U-turns per lap. More on that later….

3. Who?
(Well as this is my race report and it’s all about me….) I finished second in 1:01:36 (whoop!).

4. How?
With a ‘peloton’ of only three laydeeeeez we had a rolling speed of between 35-40kph (girl power!), but with those four tight U-turns, that turned into an average of about 34kph over the race (we won’t be breaking any records, but dammit its hard work when there’s just three of you!)

5. Why?
Well, this bike race malarkey turned out to be damn good fun, the winner’s loot was pretty good (a podium jersey, a tri bag, a water bottle and a medal – awesome, I can stop stealing G’s kit bags now!) and, as we were flagged off at 6:35am, even after waiting for the podium I was home by 9am for breakfast and a nap! WIN WIN WIN!

So for those of you that haven’t already skipped to the next story….

The longer version:

• Pre-race jitters: I’d never competed in a bike race like this before, so I didn’t really know what to expect. I had, however, watched the Tri-Factor bike race last year and seen the number of accidents (!) so was a little wary (but perhaps not as wary as G, who wasn’t keen on me doing it in the first place…perhaps that’s the real reason I had decided to do it then!?). I only looked up last year’s results the night before the race and when I saw that the first four ladies averaged over 36kph for the whole thing, I started to feel a lbit ill, wondered what the hell I’d signed myself up for and couldn’t eat my dinner (or breakfast either for that matter). I mean I can do 36kph, but not for an hour?! Well apparently I can… but not at U-Turns…

• Race morning: my TEAM RONDY cheerleader and I dragged ourselves, still yawning, to the race area for about 5:45am, just in time to watch the last lap or so and finish of the 56km invitational and open races (ummm…shit. That was fast. I was suddenly extremely thankful I couldn’t manage any breakfast and you can all be thankful too, so I haven’t had to write a Don-esque account involving frequent trips to the toilet…). In the meantime, I started to notice there weren’t many women around – I spied a couple that I thought may be fun. It looks like my competition-radar is getting more highly attuned, as those two ladies and myself ended up being the only three really in the race. The women’s start line looked rather forlorn, there were only about 20 of us, which was a bit sad to see, given the number of female cyclists in Singapore (Perhaps it was because the original date was postponed? Perhaps it was because they knew they would wipe the floor with us? Or perhaps they were otherwise occupied on a VIP ride with visiting dignitaries…!). Nonetheless, luckily there wasn’t too much waiting around, so not much time to think about it!

Bike- tick! Race number- tick! Helmet – tick! ANZA kit – tick! Other riders……umm…is anyone turning up today?!

• Tactics: what tactics? I didn’t have any!
  Right before the start, PA, having just finished the 56km, told me to “Bee carfuull for zee numpties, zey arrr dangerous when you arr doing feefty keelomeetars aan ower” (sorry, I really couldn’t resist!) and G told me to ‘go hard at the beginning, see who follows and stick with them’….
  Soooooooo, not needing to sorry too much about PA’s advice (no chance of me doing ‘feefty’, even behind a truck) but not having any better ideas, I did as told by G (what a good wife!) and put the hammer down from the start line – the other two ladies that I spotted before the start caught me pretty soon and it went from there.

• The Race: well, as there seemed to be only 3 who wanted to join in our little breakaway (and we finished nearly 5 minutes ahead of the next lady), there’s not a great deal to report: we worked together, took pretty much an equal amount of time on the front – which means we each must have pulled for over 11km each (yes, probably more work than I do on the average Saturday Kranji, I must admit!!), and yelled encouragement to each other through the race (ahhh isn’t that nice!).
  I think it took me about half a lap to realise I wasn’t doing a triathlon, that I didn’t have a ‘passing zone’ and therefore I could draft (this was all new to me!). But by lap 5 when the legs were screaming each time I was on the front, that was very welcome indeed! We didn’t have any luck at sticking on the back of any guys – the only ones left by the time we went out were stragglers, though we had plenty of guys hanging on to us (what did I say about Girl Power?!).

The laydeez out at the front..Yup, there we are again…

The course lay-out was fun and kept it interesting for the five laps: up and over the bridge on Nicoll Highway twice, and up and down Crawford Road, meant there were three ‘climbs’ (well, not really) per lap. There were also…

• U-TURNS: did I mention there were FOUR U-turns per lap?! Evidently, I am useless at U-turns. And five laps of four U-turns means…. I got dropped TWENTY times in one race (have I set a new record?!). Yup, I was the proverbial elastic band…

• The (not so) Big Finish: The finish line was about 500m from the last U-Turn, after a climb, which meant the inevitable was due to happen on the last lap… the other two dropped me at the final turn, flew up the hill and took off to the finish line while I was barely getting started again. Despite giving it all I had up the hill and then to the finish, I couldn’t catch the winner (Lynnette Ngo- Cycledelic)… but I did manage to just catch the second place by a single second (phew and owwwwwwwwwww!). At that point, I was very thankful for those early morning, mid-week sprints sessions with the ‘Superchix’ and the LCK section on a Saturday!

• The Crowd: were pretty non-existent (though to their credit, it was pretty damn early). G was awesome in his cheerleading, as always- yelling encouragement to our little peloton (but yelling in French when he wanted me to overtake/go harder!) and as the course came through the same section so often, he managed to see us four times per lap, which kept the spirits up! Though his immediate, post-finish line analysis of “We need to work on your U-turns!” and “Couldn’t you have attacked earlier if you knew she was going to have you at the U-turn?!” were perhaps slightly less wonderful that the rest of his support throughout the race…

(The G-man, showing his support for TEAM RONDY! And also taking selfies…we were obviously too slow to keep him sufficiently occupied…)

What have I learnt?

• There really wasn’t so much to be scared of, the course was pretty safe, well managed and those bloody U-turns strung out the course so there was never really any dangerous bottlenecks or “numpties” in the way.

• My legs were stronger and lasted longer than I thought they would (though on lap 2 I did wonder how I was going to manage 3 more….) and thanks again to those ‘bloody U-turns’ it brought the average speed down to something less scary!

• I need to work on my cornering so I don’t need to work twice as hard to catch up every time (see G, I’m listening!).

• You don’t need to be a ‘racer’ to take part in a bike race: in fact it was a real shame there were not more women there – hell, if I can do it, anyone can. I would really encourage any women and/or other ‘non-racers’ from the club to give the next race a go (insert appropriate club champs plug here?!)!

• Mainly, it was actually really damn good fun. I was expecting to hate most, if not every minute of the race (I don’t really like pain). But, I didn’t, at all, I thoroughly enjoyed it. In fact, the first thing the third-placed lady (Jess McMorris) said to me when we finished was “oh my god, how much fun was that?!”… I couldn’t agree more!

• Oh, and I realised I really do like riding my bike more than triathlon… (whoops, did I say that?!)

Action shot from the Cheerleader – if I’m sticking my tongue out I must’ve been enjoying myself!



Whoop whoop! Whoever said there’s no prizes for second place?!

En route to Austria, via Putrajaya (and maybe a marriage counsellor...?)

This post was originally written back in April for the weekly ANZA cycling club blog, "RTI", and appears here. As the Rondys are gearing up for their 2015 Europe pilgrimage (oh and a trip to some little race called the 70.3 IRONMAN WORLD CHAMPIONSHIPS...we thought it about time we shared it on here!). This one is a little different to the rest... the Frenchman takes the writing wheel, and I'm left throwing in my comments from the sidelines.  Actually, come to think of it, that reminds me of something......

Let us tell you the story of the last 3 months in Chez Rondy. We think this might be familiar to a lot of ANZA relationships…you might want to grab a coffee/popcorn and settle in for this domestic tale.

GR: For me, this is simply the story of well-executed holiday planning.
November 2014: 3 weeks after playing ‘super domestique’ in the Tour de Bintan, I completed my first half-ironman distance race in Phuket and was very surprised to come 3rd age grouper overall. It was a 'Challenge family' race and therefore not an official Ironman event, but I started to wonder if I could qualify for the 70.3 World Championships… a few days in Austria, a little race thrown in for good measure… that would be a fun holiday wouldn’t it? My wife and I agreed that it would indeed be super fun and went on to put a plan together to guarantee said fun-filled holiday.

[NR: Super fun? We sound like the von Trapp family. What bull. What G had failed to build into the equation when deciding to aim for this, was the three other trips we needed to make to Europe in 2015, leaving no more annual leave/money/time for a ‘little jaunt’ to Zell-am-See (I mean, have you looked at how to get to ZAS from Singapore?!). But details schmetails…(I hate being the sensible one, but one of us has to be). Also please, let’s make it clear from the outset, you don’t just ‘decide’ to go to the world championships as part of a holiday … there’s a bit more too it than that…]

GR: Ok true. So back to this plan…
Step one: find the best race to qualify. Putrajaya seemed the easiest option given the relative slow times required.

[NR: Putrajaya, what a great idea! High on everyone’s list of must-travel-to places over a bank holiday weekend. Just a tip, if you haven’t been yet…you lucky sod. Don’t.]

GR: Step two: find a coach to get me there. The ever resourceful Glen Kenny advised me to contact Arno Selukov: “he’s French, he has just qualified for Kona for the 3rd time in a row, he’s your man”. So a few discussions later, Arno and I had set up a weekly routine that ‘fitted’ into Team Rondy’s schedule and which tried to stick to two rules: to try to maintain a life outside of work and sport and try not to wake Nix up in the mornings!

[NR: Ahem. My idea of ‘routine’ is something that doesn’t change on a weekly basis (the Oxford Dictionary agrees with me). But apparently, in French it must mean something completely different ]

GR: Step three: Stick to the plan. The race was on April 5th, so I had 3 months to get in shape. Now I have been cycling for 20+ years, competing for 5, used to swim at school and started triathlon 3 years ago. I have always been into endurance sports thanks to my dad, which I believe has given me a good base, but those 12 weeks involved A LOT of training: between 12 (less frequently) to 20 hours (more frequently) on a weekly basis… I was generally fitting in 2 to 3 swims (covering about 8k), 3 to 4 runs (about 40k) and cycling 3 or 4 times (generally about 200-300k). So lots of double training days, lots of bricks, and even with a 5 to 6 hour cycle on Saturday morning, that is still early morning wake ups pretty much every day and not really any rest days – a rest day became a day with only 1 session! The hardest bit in each of those was actually to try and honor my part of the agreement in not waking up my lovely wife.

[NR: In actual fact, I gave up with the interrupted sleep and decided that “if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em” was the only way through: I went to his Monday swim squad, I joined the chix ride at 5.30am on Tuesdays and Thursdays, I got up for 6.00am runs on Wednesdays and I occasionally accompanied him for a run on Sunday. So by the time his 4.45am wake up call came on Saturdays, I was tired enough to sleep through before my 7am ride!]

GR: Step four: Try not to waste away. That much training also involved eating a lot more and Nix worked out I would need 2900kcal a day to sustain this amount of training. She then went on to become my personal chef, feeding me with the healthiest diet, yet in gigantic quantities! I started having 2 breakfasts, 2 lunches every day, protein shakes after exercising, snacking a lot more and we must have gone through groceries as fast as a hockey team would. I’ve never paid attention to what I ate or drank before, but it worked, I’ve never been in such great shape. However, I couldn’t stop losing weight – I don’t mean to brag, just happened…

[NR: HA. Sweetheart, I said 3900kcal MINIMUM (not 2900) just to maintain your weight…this might be why you are walking around looking so skinny… ‘F’ for attention Rondy.]

GR: Step five: Harden the F*ck up, mentally. I knew the training would affect my body and was looking forward to that, but I don’t think I was ready for the mental impact. For the first time I was having mental debates with myself: if I don’t train today, can I slot in 2 sessions tomorrow? Can I get to work a bit later today and have a bit more sleep? Can I go for drinks with work tonight and have a lie in tomorrow? Having a coach to set up my sessions, setting such an ambitious goal and most importantly, having Nix embrace that goal with me, were great way to stay focus and not deviate from the plan. I clearly wouldn’t go through that training routine if I hadn’t had those 3 things to push me out of bed (quite literally, in Nix’s case).

GR: Step Six: Negotiate, negotiate, negotiate. The training wasn’t always easy on Team Rondy of course, and it took a fair amount of compromise from both parties to reach consensus in a number of occasions. The amount of training tends to cut into your daily life a considerable amount when you then factor in that you are both working full time jobs and travelling for work quite a bit, which means one of you will, more often than not, have to bend their schedule around the other just in order to spend any time together.  The process was therefore also helping my sales career as I was learning to handle tough negotiation techniques, so what’s not to like!

[NR: Cheeky sod. This is probably enough to test any wife’s patience…though I, admittedly, am already low in that department. However, both members of Team Rondy needed to pull their fair weight to make it easier and not just complain (even though it’s my favourite sport), so I gave up riding on Sunday mornings (sorry Dave, one of these days I’ll make another recovery ride!) and instead would spend  2-3 hours cooking to try and ensure he stayed fed for the week, whilst I was working silly hours in the week. This also meant that I was hopefully free when he got home from training and we could have a bit of time together.]

GR: Step Seven: if in doubt, what would what Jack Reacher do? I had a couple of sprint races during the preparation in Singapore and was happy with my form in both – I even won the duathlon in front of Arno, always nice to beat the master. I have been doing triathlon for 2 years and had had good results, but getting an overall win was the proof that the training was getting somewhere at least. However, the final race week arrived faster than I wanted, and as always with it came the usual doubts: did I train enough, I don’t know how to eat on race day, how do I pace myself, how I will adapt to the heat, some competitors look super strong… I basically did a lot of online digging into my competitors that week (and probably sent very few work emails). I also started getting sick in the week before, which couldn’t have been worse timing.  I didn’t have a backup race to qualify in case things went wrong in PJ… however I decided to adopt what some people have called a very typical French attitude and what I prefer to call my Jack Reacher attitude:  use my natural confidence level to assume that everything was going to be fine.

[NR: would that ‘some people’ be a reference to me? I just don’t like to count my chickens before they hatch! But I loved your daily emails and nightly updates about the latest guy you had researched…I probably know more about the people in G’s age group then the competitors themselves! Though I don’t know how you find the time to do that at work…]

GR: Step 8: Get to the race. We decided to fly to the amazing destination that is Putrajaya. [NR: Yes, because I refused to drive 6 hours there and back through Malaysia, and given I’m the only one with a licence, I won. (Small victories are important too)] Living in Asia allows us to travel to wonderful locations; Putrajaya isn’t one of those unfortunately. It is a purpose-built town, 25 mins outside of KL, nothing to do or see and it is 37 degrees and 100% humidity in the middle of the day. Why would you setup an official Ironman race there?! Anyway, pre-race preparations in PJ went well except for appalling food and service at the hotel we stayed at (if you ever go to PJ, do not go to the Pullman hotel). We did get a room upgrade though, so not all negative again!

[NR: Private terrace: result! Restaurant: Bleurgh! G could probably cook better.  G can’t cook….]

GR: Step 9: Compare strategies. We caught up with Arno and a few other racers the night before to devise race strategies, eating plan, etc. It was great being surrounded by familiar faces such as Trent and Colin. We also met a few pros that were racing as Arno knows most of them, and seeing Crowie have dinner at the same restaurant made me feel like a kid seeing Asterix and Obelix at Parc Asterix!

[NR: I can concur (yes, it does occasionally happen) I had to stop him from interrupting Crowie’s dinner….]

GR: Step 10(a): Race Time – The Swim! I had to have 5 loo stops before the swim which meant I was at least 25% more stressed than usual.  It was a rolling start and that went pretty well for me as I was in the 5th row of people to jump in the water. Actually, I had planned on jumping in, but at the last moment decided it would be more graceful and world-championship-esque to dive instead. I obviously lost my goggles and had to stop to put them back on before resuming the swim. No comment. The rest of the swim went well though, I managed to find some good feet to follow and was very pleasantly surprised to come out of the water in under 31’.

[NR: Bloody rolling starts.  Do they know how difficult it is to see how well your athlete is faring overall with a rolling start? Anyway, armed with my list of race numbers and swim cap colours, I was positioned as usual at the swim exit.  After Colin came out of the water in 27 minutes (machine!), I was very surprised to see G’s very recognisable stroke just 3 minutes later… second orange cap, so second in his age group (which was confirmed by the online tracking very soon afterwards). I don’t know whether the surprised look on G’s face coming out the water was from realising his time or the shock I gave him screaming his position in his ear!!]

GR: Step 10(b) : The bike leg. I didn’t have great legs at the beginning of the bike and quickly realised my saddle was too low. My handlebars also tilted forward at the first speed bump, meaning I would have to do the entire bike with an over-stretched back – couldn’t believe I made fun of Colin the day before for being a poor bike mechanic! Piece of advice for my future self: always check everything 3 times before race day! The bike leg is actually quite challenging with a lot of rolling hills and it is hard to keep a steady pace. My goal was to catch up Colin on the bike, but he was having a fantastic day and I quickly realised it wouldn’t happen… For some reason, I started feeling cramps from about 40k in – WTF?! Panic arose within me, and I started doubting that I would indeed get that qualification slot… I tried to calm down, and guessed it was bad nutrition; I went on to take as much salt as I could. I also saw Nix half-way through the bike who told me I was 2nd in my age group which gave me a massive morale boost. At km 60, 2 guys had been drafting me for about 20k and I decided to slow down and follow them instead. One of them was Assad who I know is a great runner and I didn’t want to do all the work for him on the bike! I racked the bike with a 2:24 split anyway, pretty much bang on schedule.

[NR: It’s at this point watching any race that I always kick myself: why on earth have I not learnt to bring a cushion by now? Or a little folding stool? Putrajaya is particularly unfriendly on spectators. There’s no shade. Nowhere to sit. And nothing to look at until the first bikes come through. You need to be entirely self-sufficient on the hydration and nutrition and entertainment fronts: it’s actually kind of up there with competing I’ll have you know…! However, I discovered something new in this race: the partners of the female elite athletes are the chattiest/friendliest.  If you are bored – position yourself by them, they are great fun!

Oh right…I digress…back to G’s race: yup, so G had made up a little bit of time on Colin on the first lap – but Colin had a massive smile on his face coming through, whereas G looked rather pained.. and as the bike is always his strongest leg I could tell this might not be going according to plan, but the numbers still looked good.  I was concerned that the big Russian had made up a good four minutes by the end of the bike leg though…]



GR: Step 10(c) : The run. The fun started on the run… I was still 2nd according to Nix, but from the get go, I felt like I couldn’t breathe in properly. I was stuck in a much slower pace than expected and had to stop regularly to try and get rid of the stitches I was getting. I saw Nix at km 7 who screamed I only had a 30 seconds lead over the 3rd guy – and it was a loud scream so I heard it even though I was a bit phased out. I decided to try and push a bit and managed to hold a very slightly faster pace – it’s all marginal gains at that point!



[NR: When G finally came through on the first lap, I could tell from timing and his stride from quite a distance that he wasn’t 100% (well, if I can then run alongside him, he really isn’t running fast enough!). When the Russian came through straight after him, I  had  to get a full on sprint on back to G to scream that he had lost another  4 minutes and only had 30 seconds on the Russian.  I was praying that might make him hold on and push a bit. After that I went back to cheering on everyone else. It was disappointing there weren’t more spectators out on the course actually –it’s such a hard race guys, people need cheering!!]



GR: Step 11: … *&%$#@@!!…just keep running. The 3rd guy eventually become 2nd as he overtook me at km 10. Even if I felt a bit better on the last half of the run and I had frequent encouragements from both Nix and Arno, I couldn’t catch him and had to settle with 3rd place with a disappointing 1:45 run. What was surprising though was that the heat wasn’t actually as bad as I had expected – perks of living in Singapore!

[NR: I might have got a tad stressed at this point… selfishly, I didn’t want to deal with a moody stroppy Rondy for the next few weeks (one is already more than enough to deal with!!) so I was bloody desperate for him to place and get the spot.  Waiting for him at the finishing chute was agony. The minute and a half between the Russian and G felt like 20…. But seeing him run up the red carpet, knowing he’d grabbed that third place.. well, it was just amazing…And G, if I couldn’t run a 1:45 half marathon even without a swim and bike in front- be proud of yourself!!]

GR: Step 12: Relax! SO I finished in 4:42 overall. 3rd place in my age group and 21 overall.  Nix managed to join me in the recovery village midway through my massage, we did the usual race debrief, drank as much water as we could and eventually made our way back to the hotel for even more appalling food and service.

[NR: I was only in there for the free ice cream, oh and a seat. I’d had such a hard morning….]



GR: Step 13: Keep everything crossed for the Roll-Down. I knew that there were 3 qualifying slots in my age group last year but wasn’t sure about this year. I also knew that both guys who beat me wanted to go to the World Championships, so the wait for that roll-down ceremony was quite tough for both of us – I actually think that Nix was more stressed than me! [NR: yes, see above comment about waiting for you to finish!!] I guess my French/Jack Reacher attitude helps sometimes! I enjoyed the podium ceremony but yet couldn’t fully relax until we got to my age group roll-down ceremony. The wait until the moment he announced there were 3 slots in my age group, officially sending me to gorgeous Zell-am-See in Austria, reminded me of the horrible tension I felt during the X-Factor finals… We were gutted that Trent narrowly missed a slot, but there was a lot of dancing and screaming at that point. So much tension from 3 months of training did have to come out at some point! We celebrated in usual Team Rondy fashion back at the hotel: pizza and (unfortunately non-bubbly) wine.



[NR: OK, I’ll admit, at this point I think I might have shed a tear or two.  I don’t think I’ve ever been so proud.  I, however, am still waiting for those bubbles G….]

GR: Step 14: Book tickets to Austria: Jack Reacher always knew I would do it. And thank you to my amazing wife for supporting me throughout. Bring on Austria!

[NR: aww shucks….  Los gehts Osterriech!!]

Impossipuzzles

"You will never be completely at home again, because part of your heart will always be elsewhere. That is the price you pay for the richness of loving and knowing people in more than one place."  Miriam Adeney

 

Homesickness.

It comes in the strangest of forms, in the most unexpected moments and sometimes it is unrecognisable. It is incredibly hard to explain or define and therefore, exceedingly hard to comfort, because it is so different for every person.

It can be missing a place, a person, a feeling, a situation, an atmosphere, an understanding, a culture or just a decent loaf of bread. It can be each and all of those rolled into one and then none of them at the same tiny moment.　

When you move around, you ‘miss’ things you thought you would never miss: the novelty of being cold and wearing a coat, for instance.

I could fill a whole post of things I miss, but mostly it’s just small things: having dinner with my family and laughing at the dog, wearing more than one layer at a time, taking a quick trip to the corner shop in my pyjamas and UGG boots, walking over the bridges in London in the sunshine, eating lunch with my friends in the work canteen, pub gardens…

I wouldn’t say I miss these things on a daily basis, instead it might be something ridiculous which will set off a wave of nostalgia. In those black moments, I will conveniently forget that if I were to turn the clock back, I probably would’ve been too cold, too wet or too overworked to really appreciate those things anyway. That pub garden wouldn’t be so great in the rain, wearing five layers, huddled under an umbrella….　

At the weekend, I walked past a display of M&S’ Percy Pigs in a shopping centre in Singapore and burst into floods of tears. The Frenchman looked at me like I’d gone slightly batty (that probably wasn’t an incorrect assumption, I was crying over some sweets). I was always a take it or leave it kind of girl when it came to those sweets, so it wasn’t like I had been yearning daily for the last 6 months for M&S’ delicious, sweet, fruity, chewy, wonderfully moreish concoction… (ahem, where was I?). Rather, it was just that the sight of something so familiar, so comforting, so completely and utterly British, filled me with an enormous longing.　

Except for once, it actually wasn’t ruled by my stomach (though of course, we bought the sweets).

And that’s how it goes: just a song, a smell, a phrase, a photo…… in one brief moment, something utterly trivial can overwhelm you with a sadness that you can’t quite define. That split second can comprise a hopeless desire to be in more familiar surroundings, utter desperation in missing loved ones, guilt at being so far away and also an immense gratitude that your life has taken you to where you are now.

The French don’t say ‘I miss you’, they say ‘you are missing from me’ and I think that’s a better way to explain it. To me, homesickness has a physical feeling: it's just below my sternum, a pulling sensation in my chest, almost like my body likes me to imagine what I'm missing as a physical hole inside. Seeing those little pink sweets opened up a little chasm inside and I just simply wanted to go ‘home’.

Though that in itself poses a problem: my family, my older friends, they are in the UK.　 My husband, my work, my flat, my new friends: they are in Singapore. So how do I define where ‘home’ is now?

Quite simply, ‘home’ is now scattered all over the world.　

I like to think of life as a jigsaw puzzle, except it’s not one of those where you will always have the corners, be able to find all the straight edges and patiently slot in all the remaining pieces to form a perfect, pretty picture.　

As my life changes, so does the puzzle: I discover new places, new experiences, new friends, new atmospheres, new foods, new ways of life and with them I find new pieces to add to my jigsaw. Unfortunately, at the same time, the price of having these new pieces means some of my original pieces are taken away and I miss them dearly.  However, if I were to go back to retrieve the older pieces, I would lose the new pieces and I would miss those too. Sometimes it feels unfair, but then I realise I can’t have my cake and eat it. My life is wonderful.

Those missing pieces are holes that unfortunately can't be 'plugged' with new experiences: the new pieces, like the old ones, are all unique. You can't and shouldn't try to replace what you miss with something new. Instead, you keep expanding your horizons for new things to enjoy, but you never forget what was left behind.

You can't replace the bond of a parent and child, so why would you try? Your childhood home will have memories you can’t recreate elsewhere, what makes people think that an exotic beach is better or equal to that? The enjoyment you get from one is completely different to the other. New friends don't replace old ones, they have their own blessings- you make new memories with them that old friends wouldn't understand. Just like your new friends will never understand those ridiculous in-jokes you have with someone you’ve known for the past 15 years.

Maybe if you are lucky, your jigsaw puzzle pieces will stay as a perfect picture. However, equally, perhaps my puzzle was never meant to be complete and perfect? Instead I like to think of it as an impossipuzzle. As I go through life it gradually gets bigger and bigger, all jaggedy and raggedy edges, abstract, messy and wonderful all at the same time. I hope that by the time I'm finished, my jigsaw puzzle isn't a small neat rectangle, but that it's one heck of a massive creation. Maybe it'll be a big ol' spider spanning the globe. Hell, maybe it'll be a dinosaur. With lots of holes, like a Swiss cheese.

If I was to move back to the UK, I know that there are friends and elements of my daily life here that I would seriously miss. The longer I spend here, the stronger those bonds to my life here grow. If we move from Singapore to somewhere new altogether, I will be ‘homesick’ for people and places all across the world.

And how truly lucky I will be to be so.

When something takes my breath away and I’m hit with that overwhelming desire to be ‘home’, I remind myself of how fortunate I am to have people and places that I miss that much: the amazing people I have known and know now; the things I have done, I am doing, and will do. Every new place, person and experience expands my puzzle a bit more, but you never forget those you left behind, in fact being away just means you appreciate those people more.

No matter how homesick I feel in those moments, I know I wouldn’t change our life for anything.

So why play it safe with your jigsaw puzzle? If you never to take a leap into the unknown, you will never discover how both equally wonderful and soul destroying it is to be homesick.

Worst comes to worst, you can always take a trip back ‘home’: just bring a big coat, an umbrella and an empty suitcase for all those Percy Pigs :-) 

　

10 things I never did before moving to Asia

1. Used a rice cooker. 

Why the hell do we not use these in Europe? 

I have seen the light. I am a convert.

2. Planned weekends on exotic beach islands.

And by 'weekends', I really mean weekends: leaving Friday night after work and returning Sunday night. 

I could pop over to an exotic island for a day spa and be back for tea. But I can't come back at Christmas, it's too expensive... honest!

3. Given serious consideration as to whether sports gear is acceptable daytime attire for women.

I had to understand the heat a bit better to work out why a lot of expat women do this. 

However, I'd like to point out that I only considered it: I still didn't approve or change my mind. Don't do it.

4. Perspired quite so much on a daily basis (we're talking daily exercise coupled with walking everywhere) but not lost any weight. 

I think I've reached a strange equilibrium with my body - I must be doing just enough sport to work off the sheer amount of food/alcohol I am ingesting.

I'm writing this whilst eating a 'sushi burrito'... it's basically a California roll, but the size of a burrito. It's for greedy people.

5. Seen or eaten said 'sushi burrito'

'nuff said. :-)

 

6. Had a conversation about whether a live-in helper would be justifiable just for a dog or whether you'd need to have kids to really make it worthwhile. 

The question of whether it would be financially viable doesn't seem to come in to it over here. It's weird NOT to have a helper or cleaner. 

7. Gone out drinking three nights in a row before a race.

I thought London was bad for drinking. Imagine London in the summer... (yes I know it's not that easy, but try!)... now imagine if that 'It's-so-sunny-we-must-have-drinks-whilst-it's-sunny' feeling lasted all year round... 

Add in the obligatory 'you-must-say-yes-to-everything' stage we are in as new expats... 

And basically my liver isn't my biggest fan right now.

8. Realised I was actually born a giant.

I'd like to point out I'm 5'8'', with size 4 feet... I'm not exactly Brigitte Nielson.

On the plus side, I can see whether people have bald spots and/or dandruff and spot my husband easily from across the room. This comes in handy when locals are chatting him up... 'Hi, I'm his wife... what's that on your head?'

9. Drank iced coffee. 

After the rice cooker, this might be the best invention ever. It has actually replaced my addiction to diet coke. I didn't think that was possible. 

Emma, please forgive me.

10. Kept a paper diary, in a vain attempt to stay organised.

And still managed to double book myself.... apparently the trick is to read the damn thing. Oh, and apparently writing things in it is even more helpful.

And what are the top things that the Frenchman has experienced that are different?

1. Dressed according to what clothes will show sweat the least.

2. Dressed according to what clothes will show sweat the least.

3.Dressed according to what clothes will show sweat the least.

4. Dressed according to what clothes will show sweat the least.

5. Dressed according to what clothes will show sweat the least.

6.Dressed according to what clothes will show sweat the least.

7. Dressed according to what clothes will show sweat the least.

8. Dressed according to what clothes will show sweat the least.

9. Dressed according to what clothes will show sweat the least.

10. Dressed according to what clothes will show sweat the least.

It's such a hard life, this culture-shock malarky ;-)

N

"Marry the boy who travels and you will make the whole world your home"

I won’t lie, I think the Frenchman and I have had a pretty good go at seeing the world so far… we worked out that, between the two of us, we’ve travelled to over 50 countries and lived in at least 30 different houses/flats across 6 of them.  

Basically, we ain’t strangers to aeroplanes and moving boxes y’all.

I read an article recently which included the line "Marry the boy who travels and together you will make the whole world your home” and I couldn't agree with it more.  

As much as my inner lawyer likes structure, hates change and would LOVE to stay in one place, let's be frank, we were never going to settle down into married London life and never move. We're from different countries, different backgrounds and the Frenchman currently spends half of his life at over 10,000ft… when you do the math it adds up: it wasn't going to be long before there was a new adventure on the cards.

So the Frenchman and I just got back from a one-week trip to Singapore to get a feel for our new ‘home’ on a whole new continent, with a new culture (actually many new cultures!) and an 8 hour time difference from where we are now.

Yup, your thinking is correct:  I too am pretty sure these ‘look-see’ trips are supposed to be planned BEFORE you sign the contract to move, not three weeks before you go for good...

But what the hell, we were leaping before looking this time….. and what’s the worst that can happen?! Taking a look at the (most vitally important!) lessons I've learnt from our one week trip, in my opinion, not much at all...

Chocolate

1. I forgot how bad imported chocolate tastes (the preservatives added to protect it from the heat make it taste like bad American 'chocolate'). I now vividly recall why our family used to bring us suitcases full when we lived in South Africa.

2. I then discovered Royce chocolate (delicious Japanese choccies) and quickly got over no.1. Problem solved.

3. No.2 does not mean visitors to Chez Rondy will not be obligated to bring a suitcase full of chocolate to help solve no.1, on each visit.

Hair

4. Due to the shortage of Asian ‘fros, I may be planning my trips home around my hairdresser’s availability in London.

5. Due to the humidity and no.4, I’m going to have bad hair ‘years’, not days.

6. Luckily due to the nature of the ‘fro, most people in Singapore probably won’t even notice the difference of no.5. Problem solved.

Shoes

7. I have a serious shoe addiction. Admittedly, this has not really been learnt from a week in Singapore, rather from the frustrations of trying to pack all the shoes I want to take with me for the 4-6 weeks until our container arrives and still stay within our luggage allowance.

8. Singapore has enough shoe shops to even cope with no.7. Problem solved.

9. Even better, Singaporean women seem to love shoes as much as me.  Pretty shoes are one of the (very few) things that appear to be quite cheap in Singapore. Hell, I could buy a different pair for every day of the year.

10. I have taken no. 9 as a personal challenge. We are going to have a 3 bedroom apartment after all….

Food

11. Supermarkets selling western food are a complete rip off. You (yes, Cold Storage I’m looking at you) can get lost charging me £8 for a box of cereal.

12. The Mustafa Centre in Little India makes trips to no. 11 unnecessary in all but emergencies.  It stocks everything you could ever think of, plus MILLIONS of types of more MUCH more exciting stuff.  It is my new favourite place. Problem solved.

13. My second personal challenge is to see if I can work out why I might need about 100 different types of rice (to be found in no.12) in the time I’m in Singapore.

Flat

14. We’re most definitely going to have a swimming pool. This is super cool.

15. I don’t like swimming, but I get to lie by no.14.  Still cool.

16. I’ve already been signed up for two 10kms and two triathlons by the Frenchman.  Which means I need to learn to swim properly. Which means I have to get over no.15. Not so cool.  Damn you Singapore and your sport-friendly life.

Clothes

17. Singaporean women are tiny. I will need to lose a serious amount of weight and/or whittle away my hips/ass somehow if I’m to fit into any non-western brands. 

18. As much as I want to assimilate into the culture here, I draw the line at wearing a size 3 times higher than normal due to no.17 (yes, for any men reading this, I know that sounds ridiculous, but I’m a girl and it’s a girl thing, leave us to it).

19. Do I actually give a sh*t about no. 17 or no.18? I’ll be living in vest top and shorts outside of work (see no.23 below). WAHOO!! Problem solved.

Travel

20. Singapore is an amazing base to travel from. We haven’t moved yet, but already we have trips booked to Abu Dhabi, Indonesia and Hong Kong in the diary in the first month and a half. 

21. Maybe I should actually have given some more thought to just being an expat wife rather than working, in order to maximise the potential of no. 20.

22. However, that may mean I would have to give up No.7. or maybe take up tennis. On second thoughts, forget 21. Problem solved.

Weather

23. Singapore has 4 seasons too: hot, hotter, rainy, rainier.

24. No. 23 means you can leave the flat at 5.30am in just a vest and shorts to go running, cycling, boot camp, yoga, swimming (etc. etc. you get the picture) rather than being dressed up like a slightly chubby ninja in layers of black lycra. This is, unsurprisingly, wonderfully refreshing. Even if the actual exercise itself isn’t quite so refreshing.

25. Sleeping without aircon or a fan is not so refreshing either. 

26. No. 25 means we have to pay more in electricity.  

27. Funnily enough, I think we’ll live with no.26. Problem solved.

SO….The main lesson learnt? 

I'm so happy I married the boy who travels.  

This is throwing me out of my comfort zone and forcing me to try something I never would have had the guts to do by myself. It may be a bit weird to begin with as we find our feet, but for every new challenge we come across in settling into our new ‘home’, there will be a new adventure to be found, a new exciting way of doing things to be learnt and hell, probably a new pair of shoes to be bought.

For everything else? There’s M*stercard. 

And we can’t wait. 

If only because it’s so friggin cold here I can’t feel my fingers properly as I'm typing this…. 

Pre-expat Panic and Kingy Cake

Time to dust off the ol' blog ready for our travels…

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A pre-expat panic hit at exactly 3.45pm this afternoon. About 15 minutes earlier I realised the following: (1) it was the 6^th January; (2) I hadn’t made a galette des rois this year (traditional French pastry cake filled with frangipane, eaten on twelfth night); (3) I was kidding myself if I thought could be bothered to go to the shops to buy puff pastry just for that; because (4) I wasn’t sodding making puff pastry myself; and (5) there’s always next year to make it, he’s eaten enough over Christmas!

**Tum tum tee tum…. 15 minutes later…**

AAARGH. But what if I can’t FIND puff pastry this time next year?!!? That means Guillaume goes at least two years without his beloved galette des rois!! I am such a bad French wife!

**Whoops… cue a rush to the shop to buy puff pastry**

There will be a galette regally awaiting the Frenchman’s return when he gets home this evening. It’s a good thing it is easy to knock together, I don’t know if guilt would have gotten to me so badly had it been something more complicated….

And… that seems to be an accurate reflection of my day-to-day life at the moment.  No, I don’t usually wage daily battles with myself that I haven’t quite yet usurped Nigella’s domestic goddess crown, but rather, each day seems to bring little realisations that, in just 6 weeks’ time, everything will change once again.

We’re off to Singapore on February 18^th and, whilst I’m sure I’ll be able to dig out my baking ingredients somewhere (panic not, Nigella!), I just can’t imagine that in a few weeks we’ll be living in another country so far away from our daily life in London.  The reality of it just hasn’t sunk in yet.  We’re still living in our lovely (albeit, bike-filled) flat and most of the moving malarkey can’t be done till the last minute. So everything seems completely normal, no indications that things are about to change, big time. 

Except for when the following happens: 

• “OH DAMMIT… what did I buy another jumper for? What am I going to use this for now?”

• “Brrrrrrr, bring on Spring when I don’t have to wear quite so many layers to get on my bike… (blows on fingers to try and get feeling back)… HANG ON… in February I won’t be able to wear few enough layers, I’ll be too hot! Yey!.... I think??”

• “Oh yey a wedding invitation!! … AH CRAP I’m guessing they won’t rearrange their wedding for when we’re coming back to visit?”

• “We really must try this restaurant… ERROR! ERROR! DIARY SAYS NO: we’re fully booked before we leave.”

• “Mmm chocolate…nom nom nom… OH SH*T, bikini weather is not 6 months away anymore!” 

• “Look at all this alcohol, when are we ever going to drink this? Ah… LEAVING PARTY!”

• And most stupidly… “AH MERDE, as if I just renewed my phone contract for another 24 months…!”

Just when we thought we would be free of spreadsheets and project planning for, oh I dunno, at least another few years (following the wedding I thought I might have a nervous breakdown if I ever saw another (very useful) spreadsheet that my (wonderful) husband had created), we’re back to lists, lists and more lists… moving formalities, people we need to inform, notices we need to send, stuff we need to clear out, stuff we need to buy to take with us, leaving party arrangements…. Safe to say I’ve chosen to work on the ‘fun’ things listed so far: find party venue for leaving drinks, restart blog, get an international driving licence…. Teehee. 

And obviously, most importantly, we’re very focussed on trying to see everyone we know and do everything we want to do ‘for the last time’ before we leave!  Yes, we may have only had about one free weekend since we got back from honeymoon, but it has been a brilliant excuse for eating and drinking FAR too much (see above comment re chocolate) in the post-wedding, post-honeymoon, pre-Christmas, Christmas, post-Christmas, New Year, post-New-Year-when-everyone-else-is-trying-to-be-good-periods….. You get the picture. 

SO January 2014 sees us trying to make it sink in that we’re moving in 6 weeks by re-attacking our moving to-do list, taking a reccie trip to Singapore (which will no doubt only add to the to-do list when we return!) and trying not to gloat too outrageously when we start discussing (read: complaining) about the AWFUL weather here in England at the moment… and then realising eternal summer is coming in a few weeks’ time :-) 

Bring on the warm rain!!