I have always been fascinated by the lives of people. And not just a go 'look see' option, like on holiday. I want to see how people wake up, how they shape their day, their home... It intrigues me.
This morning I was wondering where did this interest come from and a long forgotten memory popped up. I was five years old, in a dark and cold December in Glasgow, Scotland. Our family was about to embark on the biggest adventure of all. Leave Scotland on PLne bound for Africa, for a three year working contract. I was staying at my aunt and uncle's house and it was very different to the home we had just vacated. There was central heating and a soft bedside lamp. I remember feeling totally warm and safe as my uncle Maurice 'hooted' through his hands telling me about the local owls. I have no recollection of how long I stayed there, nor where the rest of my siblings were (and there were 5 siblings with one on the way). I just remember feeling somewhat reluctant to be leaving that house with the grandfather clock chiming down the time.
In South Africa, I often stayed over at my friends house, and I loved watching how they handled chores (of course- having to help), their relationships with their siblings and parents and comparing how they went about their lives. It's not that my life was unpleasant, nor is it now, but the mundane ways of another person's life can sometimes help me find better ways of doing things. Although the thought of watching reality TV shows about people's lives are an absolute bore for me.
My grown up fascination hasn't really changed, with my young adult days seeing me stay in many different hotels across the country as my job took me on location. Now that I am no longer working in the same industry, I realised that I miss the travel. The newsness of streets, buildings and sheets. So now I am ready to discover little nuances of life in different places, but this time, with the awareness of my doing it.
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