Yep, we're back from what has already been dubbed The Glorious Holiday in these parts. Although a mere perusal of my blogger reading list indicates that I have
a lot of catching up to do where my bloggy friends are concerned, (
bear with me, I'll stop by soon!) I don't have much in the way of updates in Invincible Spring Land.
The uterus? Still very much unoccupied. (
Did we expect anything different, really?) We have an appointment with the clinic on Thursday, and along we teeter... Honestly, none of it - the screaming scarlet that made its appearance a tantilizing two days late, or our perpetually childless status, the waits and the run-arounds at our clinic - seemed too bad in the context of recent weeks.
The holiday? Just...glorious. We hiked and strolled and explored and swam and ate and drank and laughed more than we have in a long while. It was a tonic for our marriage, and for my outlook on life generally.
And did we stick to
the promise that we made before our departure? Not entirely, but that was ok too. Travel for me has always been about
engaging with as much
looking at new surroundings. A big part of that, I guess, is about allowing yourself to think about your own life and place in the vastness of things, as you encounter diversity and newness and difference.
Because I'm a narcissistic emo type I tend to reflect on what I'd like to bring back with me from each encounter; not just the little stuff like a piece of local art of a tasty new way of preparing fish or doing my hair. The bigger stuff too: different priorities, ways of expressing ourselves, worldviews. (I think maybe these weeks away clarified some things for H and I, though how we act on that remains to be seen.)
So yeah, there was some of that too, fuelled by drinking in too much art, epic history and local socio-cultural quirks (
birch bark sauna slapping, anyone?!)
oh ok, and vodka. Like I said, glorious.
I'm sure I'll be back to bore you with photographic evidence in the coming days, but for now, I'm equal parts busy with all the back-to-reality stuff one inevitably faces, and stuck in a post-holiday-funk-apathy.
OMGseriously you guys! We went from these vast, ethereal, bright blue skies which become alight with orange and pink swirls around midnight, but never truly darken...
 |
| Midnight sun marvel: 2AM |
...to the grey, featureless, claustrophobic lid that is the sky over England at any given time. We traded sunshine and shirtsleeves for rain and woollen jumpers again. Sigh.
In sum though, (once my period had finally arrived), I can say that my behaviour on these weeks away was a veritable compendium of
What Not To Do When You're Trying to Conceive:
- Forget your embargo on caffeine completely, and partake of daily doses of rich, dark, aromatic coffee (the likes of which is never to be found here in England), served in elegant cafes on cobbled squares while watching the world go by. Usually twice daily.
- Go local and eat raw fish, prepared ninety seven ways, of which there never seems to be a shortage. And caviar. So much caviar.
- Develop a heretofore unthinkable taste for vodka, which becomes irresistible in this land of expert vodka drinking and making (they treat it like fine wine). Sample the amazing, locally distilled varieties infused with incredible things like rhubarb, lingonberry, and sea buckthorn (my new favourite fruit!)
- Smoke (gasp!) a leisurely cigarillo while seated in aforementioned cafe
- Throw your acupuncturist-recommended, doctor-backed gluten free diet (and with it your caution) to the wind, and partake of an obscene amount of pastries! cakes! breads! and beers in virtually every microbrewery pub you find along the way (they take their beers seriously too, these people)
- Saunas! Hot springs!
- Have sex with your husband for the sake of sex alone. Frivolous, exciting, standing-up, bathroom-in-a-moving-conveyance sex, as though you're a pair of horny teenagers with not a care for his sperm reaching your cervix on what might very well be fertile days (I know! Rebels!)
So yeah, I guess you could say we had an awesome time.
Suck on that, happiness-sanctioning, spontaneity-stealing infertility!
