Tag: friendship

Floriade and Friendship

Many a weekend is spent on housework and chores. That’s a fact of life for those of us who work full-time. But there’s more to life than dishes and socks. Weekends also need to include recreational activities to recharge us.

This week my dear friend Heidi announced she would come to visit. We live about 110 km from each other but even with this relatively short distance in Australian terms, we don’t see each other often. I suggested going to Floriade, a Canberran institution which is held every year in September. She readily agreed.

Floriade is a celebration of spring held at Commonwealth Park each year. An overall theme is selected for the various garden bed designs. This year Floriade features 12 large garden beds highlighting Australian Scientists through the contribution they made to a scientific field. The garden bed themes have names such as Molecular Structure, Spectrum and Petri Dish. By carefully observing the design of each bed, the theme presents itself. My favourites were the double helix for DNA and the Atom.

While massed tulips are the main attraction, there are many varieties of flowers in an assortment of colours. There are Pansies, Chrysanthemums, Hyacinths and Violas to name but a few. Each display is painstakingly planted to represent the facets of science it celebrates. It can be difficult to discern the images portrayed from ground level but when viewed from above, the images become clear.

I suggested going on the Ferris Wheel to get a better view. After a long wait, we clambered into a swinging carriage that was to take us up for a better view. From above, it was much easier to discern the themes. It was very windy at the top and we rocked from side to side which made taking pictures difficult. Our best photos came from when we stopped half way up.

Heidi and I had a wonderful time exploring the gardens. We were mesmerised by the variety of colours of the flowers we encountered. Black Pansies and deep purple hyacinths! We had never seen either of these. We marvelled at the ingenuity of the of the garden bed designers.

While the flowers occupied the centre of attention, we still had time to catch up with each other’s lives. We are empty nesters; our children flapping their fledgling wings. We talked about our plans for retirement, the joys of having a dog, our fears for future generations.

There is immense comfort in a friendship that has lasted forty years. Surprisingly, in all that time, we have only lived in the same town for roughly two years. Yet like tulips at the Floriade, our friendship has returned season after season, surprising us with vivid palettes of colour and the patina that the years provide.

The Quiet Cost of Disconnection

A few weeks back, I drove 330 km to attend friend’s birthday lunch. I hadn’t seen her for about six months and was delighted to surprise her on the day. I also caught up with a couple of friends I hadn’t seen for years on that weekend. Since then, my life has revolved around work, and I have barely seen anyone. Usually, I don’t mind at all, I’m a bit of a loner and rarely feel lonely. Lately though, there’s been a niggle gnawing within me, a slight feeling of dissatisfaction, which I’m finding disconcerting.

I talk to lots of people during the day, so it isn’t a lack of contact. However, most of my interactions are transactional and I don’t feel connected in any meaningful way. Today, it occurred to me that I know very little about the private lives of my colleagues and they know very little about me. Whilst I don’t expect to have all my social needs met at work, it is where I spend a large chunk of my time.

We always think about the quality of our diet and exercise as the main risk factors for our health. Recently, studies have identified another risk factor, which could be equally as important to longevity and health – the importance of social relations. This may be because the support that friends offer can lower our stress hormones, it can even help regulate insulin and help with our gut function. It reminds me of studies that have been done on positive coronary effects of purring cats on laps. We all need companionship and physical touch.

What matters most is the quality of our interactions. Happy marriages can help prolong life; unhappy ones can lead to poor health outcomes. While not causal, there’s a definite a link. This also applies to friendships. The stronger and more harmonious our friendships, the happier and healthier we tend to be.

But it isn’t just the social interaction that’s been lacking from my life. I haven’t done much of the two things that keep me centred. The first is walking and the second is writing. Before work, I only fit in 15 to 20 minutes of a walk and, now that winter has arrived, I mostly get home after dark. I miss my hour-long stroll after work and so does the dog. No such excuses for my lack of writing.

After a few weeks of missing the online London renegade writers’ group, I finally logged on today. We wrote, we chatted, we laughed and cheered each other on. Such a simple step and I already feel better. Two hours later, I’m buoyed, smiling, and content with my lot once again. And here’s the blog post to show for it.

A trip to New Zealand

Or the long-lost friend, a tech savvy daughter and a generous birthday gift.

Wellington foreshore guerilla knitters

Annie and I met in 1989 while working for a private college teaching English in Sydney. Our clients were Chinese, and the massacre at Tiananmen square in June of that year affected them all deeply. They came from cities and villages, desperate to earn money so they could repay the enormous debt they had back home which funded their airfares and tuition fees. None of them knew about life in Australia or the cost of living in Sydney.

Annie and I gravitated towards each other and soon became friends. We spent many a weekend going to the Glebe markets, meeting up for coffee and going for walks along the cliffs at Bondi. I left the college disillusioned with the management and teaching. She stayed for a while longer before travelling to Canada and Nepal. We kept in touch throughout this time.

In my memory, Annie was footloose and fancy free, always looking for the next adventure and travel destination. I was three years older and in a steady relationship. I admired her ability to save money and her courage to travel to far-flung places on her own. I admired her freedom and her trust in finding work wherever she went.

I was one of many friends she had, but she was my best friend. When I was about to give birth to my daughter, Annie was the obvious choice to be my support person. At 8 moths pregnant, I remember driving over some speed humps in my ancient Beetle. We shrieked with laughter as I landed heavily back in my seat. I could always rely on Annie to boost my mood and have a good laugh. No need for nitrous oxide with her by my side!

As our lives became more complicated with partners, jobs and eventually children, it was more difficult to catch up regularly. By then we lived in different parts of the city and eventually my small family moved out of the city altogether. Not long after that, Annie and her family moved back to New Zealand, which she had always called home. We lost touch.

Years passed. I always had a framed photo of Annie on my bookshelf and often wondered where life had taken her. My daughter heard stories about this special friend who was there at her birth and knew how much she meant to me. So she found her on the internet and booked me an airfare to Wellington.

Little did she know I would arrive on the eve of Annie’s birthday. What a treat to celebrate this special day with her loved ones. I finally met her adult children, was reacquainted with her husband and was welcomed into their home.

For a week, we walked the rugged beaches of Wellington with Dexter, their wonderful and quirky dog, catching up on 25 plus years of our lives. So much had changed for us both, but that initial spark from all those years ago still ignited our friendship. We share the same values, care about the same things and, interestingly, experienced similar challenges. We both stayed in teaching; she became an early childhood educator while I became a primary teacher. After teaching adults for many years, we gravitated towards teaching young children.

I loved being taken to her favourite haunts, the supermarket down the road and the café she frequents on weekends. I can now imagine her daily life; the route she takes to work, the walks she takes to clear her head, and I have met the people who are dearest to her. 

We spent some time sight-seeing, but those aren’t the memories I shall hold dear. While I loved walking through the botanical gardens, the museums along the waterfront, and the quirky shops on Cuba Street, what I loved most were the connections I was making. Talking politics with Annie’s 93-year-old mother was definitely a highlight. I loved her joie de vivre and her passion for social justice. May we all be as erudite and passionate no matter our age!

I’ve now been back home for three weeks. Neither of us have contacted each other since the first couple of days. We both have busy jobs and parenting responsibilities. There’s not much time left at the end of the day, especially when there is a two-hour time difference to navigate. It is all too easy to fall into habits of neglect. But this time I’m determined not to lose our precious connection again.