THOUGHTS ON LEAVING
For the first time in my long and adventure-filled life, I’m stepping into the unknown without my full confidence riding along with me. I’m nervous. I’m scared. I’m emotional. I just spent two days in the hospital. I walked into the emergency room and said I didn’t know if I was having a heart attack or an anxiety attack. It was up to them to figure it out.
Moving away from my family has been a passage that I’ve completed 23 times in my adult life. I remember waking up one morning when I lived in Los Angeles and making the decision to move to New York City. There was absolutely NO hesitation. I just popped up in my bed, decided to move, and that was that!
At the time I’d been a widow for one year (requisite waiting period for major decision-making). My condo had just undergone a massive refurbishment. My daughter was only 4 years old and not committed to her environment, but was questioning me as to why we didn’t drive a Mercedes. I had nothing to do.
Moving seemed like a grand idea! Besides, I told myself, I didn’t want to die without having lived in the buzziest city in the world! New York City – I was on my way in less than three months!
Ten years later I was in the middle of packing boxes again and moving from New York to Florida. A year of seventeen snowstorms had done me in and “quality of life” became my mantra. It took me one month between decision-making to actually moving.
And now, here I am, ten years later (do I live my life in blocks of ten years?) moving from Florida to — Wales! Only this time, it took almost a year of considering the move, of facing leaving my parents who live within an hour of me and are now in their late 80s. Of leaving my only child, her husband, and my little treasures – my two grandsons. I cry thinking about it.
Why am I doing this?
I rationalize. Medical care provided by the UK and my lack of medical insurance in the US is a great motivator. Wales is close to Europe. Wales has market towns providing fresh-from-the-ground vegetables and fruit. Organic, farm-raised meat and eggs. Fish drawn from local, cold water streams. Wales is my husband’s homeland.
I’m looking for a change of lifestyle. But can I handle it? I look around my home and see cardboard boxes packed with my life’s history. Some are going to Wales. Some are staying right here in Florida in hopes of our returning and securing a small place to “come home to.” But my move involves more than those boxes.
There’s no room in the boxes for my heart. For the tears that stream down my face when I think about my daughter and grandsons and not having them ten minutes away. There’s no room for the touch of my mother’s face as I kiss her. There’s no room in the boxes for any regrets. They spill out the cracks and tumble onto the floor, swimming in the pools already created by my salty tears. What’s wrong with me?
I’ve always been an adventurer. I drove around the world when I was 22, living in a green Land Rover and visiting countries that don’t exist anymore. I loved Iran. I cherished Afghanistan. I’m glad I got to know them before the rest of the world did.
I’ve lived in a world that I created out of constant change. I waved goodbye to my daughter when she was only six years old as she was boarding a plane to fly from New York to Portugal on a summer holiday with friends. My mother and I followed two weeks later for our first of several trips to the magnificent Algarve.
Hawaii, Mexico, Paris, the Caribbean – they’ve all been on my travel list and never once did I leave with hesitation. But I always came back with my dirty clothes and souvenirs. Maybe that’s the difference this time. I’m leaving with more than my suitcases.
I try to look forward to this next chapter knowing that I still have a few adventures left in me. I relish the thought of living in the Welsh countryside and knowing that Europe is only hours away. I’m excited that friends from the US are already booking visits to our new home. I’ve taught my grandson how to Skype.
And that’s the rub. My grandson. Grandsons. My daughter. My parents. If only they could – would — come with me. But Wales is my adventure, isn’t it? Only this time – I’m leaving with a heavy heart.
Land of my Fathers
On our website http://www.achangeoflifestyle.com/, we talk about having an affinity for a place before even considering moving there. I have an affinity for Wales.
It was 40 years ago that my long wheel-base Land Rover crossed the Severn River west of Shrewsbury and took us into Wales. I remember it today as clearly as it was then. Softly undulating green hills were ribboned with miles of stone hedges, some seemingly going nowhere, and yet everywhere. Roads into the villages were narrow, rimmed with brambles that went as high as the car. Navigating them in such a large car, on the “wrong” side of the road mind you, took skill and a lot of nail-biting. And the villages themselves were tightly compact, featuring butcher shops, bakeries, grocery suppliers, and park benches. Lots of park benches.
Did I mention the sheep? On every hill throughout the countryside, posh and not-so-posh sheep grazed contentedly. It was just past lambing season and the tiny ones stayed closed to their moms and I was moved to sing a favorite child’s hymn, “Mary Had a Little Lamb” as we bumped along.
We drove through Snowdonia, my definition of Eden, skirted majestic Mt.Snowdon holding court over the villages sprinkled below, and aimed for Caernarfon, home of the “most beautiful castle in Wales”. Prince Charles had been “invested” only months earlier, and although there were no remnants of the ceremony, just closing my eyes brought the pageantry to mind. Caernarfon was the first castle I had ever touched in my life. I rubbed my fingers across its storied stones until they pulsated with the castle’s history. The ages-old castle, and the fact that it was almost 700 old, made me aware that as an American, I just didn’t know what “old” meant.
And that’s the way it went throughout my travels in Wales back in the days of living in a green Land Rover. Old buildings. Quaint villages. Green hills. Castles. History. And sheep.
Fast forward to now, and it is those same qualities that impressed me the first time I visited Wales, that lure me back there today. Being married to a Welshman, I’ve visited South Wales numerous times. We’ve driven West, through once war-ravaged Swansea. Then North, to that pub-haven Carmarthen where I feasted on the most dreadful green seaweed-oatmeal stuff that appeals to the Welsh for God-knows-why, and slurped a bowl of Welsh stew made from lamb and leeks and known as Cawl. Down and then across the Pendine Sands, where I imagined myself setting a “personal best” land speed record, then on to the seaside town of Tenby where my husband spent many an idyllic childhood summer, and I feasted on my first towering ice cream concoction known as a Knickerbocker Glory. St. Davids, Cardigan, Newcastle Emlyn and Canarth Falls, where salmon swim up the river Teifi to spawn, were awe-inspiring in their majesty, beauty, and serenity. They represented a way of life no longer seen, acknowledged, desired nor demanded in America, yet there they were, in 21st century Wales.
We stayed at a precious manor house-cum hotel, dined on elegantly prepared basic food, and glanced out the dining room window at the hillside lambs, grazing contentedly. We’ve driven along many little lanes, appreciating every curve, every bramble, every oncoming lorry rushing our way. Strangely, on every trip, I was in no hurry to go back to the States.
I knew my father’s ancestors came to America on the second sailing of the Mayflower. They came from Great Britain, and the name Briggs (my maiden name) is prominent throughout New England’s small villages. What I didn’t know was that my father’s family originated – in Wales. So here I am, nearly 400 years later, returning to land of my fathers. To Wales.
The Summer of My Discontent
I’m moving to Wales, and I blame it on the Florida heat. Last summer’s 9-months of suffocating heat zapped the life out of me. Where can you go in Florida for a change of scenery? Nowhere. Where can you go in Florida for a change of temperature? Nowhere. Your only choice for change is either Mickey Mouse or Margaritaville.
I cannot remember when, or how, I came up with the concept for A Change of Lifestyle – our website dedicated to all the places in the world where you can retire and live the good life at a reasonable price. I just knew that my business partner, Vickye, was planning on moving to Sicily in the next few years. Our web designer wanted to go to Ireland. I still had France on my brain. The website became my window onto the world. And the more I wrote about life in fascinating countries, the more I wondered how I could arrange to practice what I was preaching.
The “aha” moment came when I stopped thinking and simply looked at the obvious. My husband is from Cardiff, Wales. I LIKED Wales. Friends, who were originally from Wales and living in Sarasota, moved back to the UK and were loving it. Wales popped into my brain and it hasn’t popped out yet!!!! Moving to Wales became a natural.
My research began with making reservations to fly to Wales and to check it out with new eyes. Visiting is one thing. Looking for a place to live is another. We’d go in February, one of the worst months, weather-wise, but a good test of endurance!
Lucky for us, Continental Airlines now flies from Palm Beach into Newark, NJ, and then connects into Bristol Airport — which is just forty minutes from where we wanted to explore in Wales. We didn’t have to do the Heathrow bit which meant first learning Spanish in order to fight the Miami traffic, flying for 11 hours uninterrupted, and then driving for another 2 ½ hours. PBI to BRS was simply more civilized. Just land, hop into the rental car, and within minutes we could enjoy a cup of tea with friends!
Check. Flight booked. Now, how could we do this? Could I work? Yes — if I got a “Settlement Visa”. What would Paul do? He works on the internet now. He can work on the internet in Wales.
Can the puppies come with us? Yes. And they can avoid the dreaded UK quarantine by getting their puppy passports while still living in the US.
What would it cost to live in Wales? After diligent research, we concluded that the cost of living would be about the same, if not a bit less, than the cost of living here in Florida. (PS: for those of you who are considering retiring in Florida, just three words: It ain’t cheap!)
Oh – and a biggie – while neither of us has health insurance here in the US (many thousands of dollars per month for two of us!), we can get coverage in the UK under their National Health Insurance system. We need to get back to the UK, reestablish our residency there, become full-fledged members of the UK tax-paying society, and then we will be covered. Which means – we’ll be covered in Europe as well!!!! What’s not to like about that plan?
The details of my project would overwhelm most people. But I like lists. And as mine grew longer, only one thing nagged at me. How would I break the news to my parents who are edging into their 90s, and most importantly, my daughter – my only child — without having her feel I was abandoning her, her husband and my gorgeous, darling, adorable grandsons? Stay tuned.
The Sun Got Me!
It was the summer of our discontent. While Britain passed the summer months shrouded in fog and rain, the year 2009 brought unrelenting sun and heat to South Florida. Every day was like the day before… one friggin’ sunny day after another. This sun wasn’t like the tantalizing rays we remember, kissing our shoulders and reminding us how lucky we were to be living in the Sunshine State. No, this sun was a tormentor. Fifteen minutes spent walking the dogs at 8 AM meant sweat beads forming on my forehead and a dizzying inertia settling into my brain.
Day after day, month after month, we spent our time indoors, locked away in the air conditioning. Running from our air-conditioned home to our air-conditioned car to our air-conditioned grocery stores and offices were the games we had to play as “old sol” spread his intense glory. The car thermometers registered 112 degrees outside. My body temperature throbbed against the inside of my skin, pushing to release its steam into the already sizzling air. Something had to give, and as the summer weeks passed, we realized it wasn’t going to be the weather.
Thoughts of Wales started creeping into my head. It helped that my husband is from that country and that after visiting several times I had fallen in love with the land West of England. It also helped that on each of those visits we’d been blessed with fantastic, out-of-the-ordinary weather.
As we sat in front of the TV on a Saturday night, the only place you could be when the air outside was warm enough to bake a cake, we watched one of our favorite British comedies – The Vicar of Dibley starring Dawn French and created by my favorite screenwriter – Richard Curtis (Four Weddings and a Funeral, Bridget Jones’ Diary, Notting Hill, Love Actually).
My favorite moment of every episode was the opening credits, where the camera panned over the English countryside, then moved in closer to explore the darling, very English hamlet of Dibley – with thatched roofs, a village square, the local church (nope, didn’t see a synagogue, but that didn’t matter. We’d go to church, and then invite everyone over for Passover Seder!)
Suddenly a convergence of thoughts hit me like dynamite. Let’s move back to Wales and find our own Dibley! Yeah, I know. What a broad thought! Everyone thinks about moving somewhere else. But I not only think about it – I do it! 23 moves in my adult lifetime will attest to that! So Wales wasn’t so much a hurdle as it was a total Change of Lifestyle. Was I nuts? Yes. Was I daydreaming? Yes. Was I having heat stroke? Yes. Was it possible? YES!
Yes. Wales was where I wanted to be! Wales has topography. Florida has – bumps. Wales has sane drivers. Florida has maniacs. Wales has wonderful television. Florida has screaming politicians, drug ads with more side effects than the malady they’re trying to cure, and ambulance-chasing lawyers all in the mood to sue someone, anyone. Wales has seasons. Florida has heat. Lots of heat. Months of heat.
All I needed to do was to convince hubby to at least think about it. Little did I know what adventures would lie ahead. Stay tuned…
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