Is that a squirrel on my head?

Still suffering from international-movingitis, I've been away from the blog for another week. Pathetic, I know, but electronic communications only remind me that I can't communicate with my friends or relatives in any other way right now. So, let's just say that I've been avoiding my computer where possible, and staring out the window instead.

Despite the grey skies, there are some very cheering sights: rabbits chasing each other and nibbling fallen fruits, and squirrels darting about with their bushy tails in the air. I walk through a wood in order to get anywhere (except the bus stop). A wood! There's something I could never say in Australia. I feel like I'm finally close to living out my girlhood Sylvanian Families fantasy, except I'm human and the animals are not wearing clothes. Oh, yes, and my temporary home looks like a two-storey block of public toilets (according to my sister, who's seen the photographs), not a cute woodland cottage.

I'm feeling a trifle exposed - some of the windows have no curtains and in the mornings, there are people outside, mowing the grass or walking dogs into the the thick vegetation at the edge of the lawn. I can see out, but people can also, possibly, see right in. I wonder if they can see the ironing board, piled high with solo, partnerless socks (why is it that when you're living out of a suitcase, half your socks disappear within a day or two?).

I wonder if they can see me in my pyjamas, crouching in front of the armchair (on top of a pile of Playmobil and coloured pencils) until they've gone and I can make a break for the stairs, which my daughter will chase me up, ensuring that it takes me half the day to get washed and dressed and back downstairs.

Perhaps my birdsnest hair, untended by a hairdresser* for nearly 27 months, and poking up over the top of the armchair, is within the dog-walkers' line of sight.

Come to think of it, perhaps my birdsnest hair is what's attracting so much wildlife. I don't need a wood to do that, as long as I'm sitting still, with my head screwed on. And, as I realise when I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror or one of the curtainless windows, my head is, sadly, firmly attached at all times.

*Note: my hair, while straggly, split-endy, suddenly greying and grown out of its former layered cut, is definitely clean. Even using the "power shower" here (which dribbles out water in alternating hiccups of scalding hot and freezing cold), I manage to get it washed regularly. But as we all know, headlice prefer clean hair, so it's entirely possible that squirrels do, too.

Mould, old and new

Well, I've done it. I have fled the old flat, left Germany, and arrived within the city limits of... Coventry.

A bottle of Sagrotan, some toothbrushes and cleaning cloths saw significant reductions in mould around the window frames, skirting boards, doors, fridge, freezer and tile grouting, and a coat of paint or three soon fixed up most of the walls. (Huge thanks to those who lent a hand - I was very lucky to find such wonderful friends in Germany.)

And now it's time for a huge sigh of relief! Look at the very unmouldy bedroom left behind!

Unfortunately, since arriving at my temporary Coventry accommodation, I've discovered what English mould smells like. Very different from German mould, and just as unpleasant in its own way. Luckily, the mould in this house is mostly confined to the peculiar rear bedroom/mathematician's heaven. (It scares me, and not just because of the smell.)

Missing Germany, missing friends, and hoping life in the UK soon feels normal.

Potsdam's treasures (accent and supermarkets not included)

The last week has disappeared in a bubblewrap-filtered blur of packing and panic... and farewell dinners. 'Tis the season for departures (and mosquitoes).

It's now a matter of days before the removalists arrive, and I'm not enjoying this international moving experience any more than I did when I left Australia. In many ways, it's worse this time.

In between trying to organise the move, I've been trying to see a few things around Potsdam, one last time, but there won't be a chance for much more of that. (I did manage to eat two "last" ice creams, though. Mmmm.)

So, here's a view of some of the places I'm leaving behind... sadly, there are no videos of the local supermarkets, so palaces and gardens will have to do for now.

There's a good range of footage of Park Sanssouci and the New Garden in this next video, but I should warn you, the voiceover is all in German. If you don't understand, just pretend you're me: listen politely, watch carefully, and nod and smile, or say "oh" whenever there's a pause. Pretending to understand is an essential Ausländer/in skill, even if only used to fill the gaps when you're struggling with a new language. It feels good when you get away with looking like less of an ignoramus than you really are.

(Note: I can't identify the narrator's accent. Definitely doesn't sound like a Potsdamer/Berliner, so it's not an accurate reflection of the Sound of German I experience every day.)

And now, I really should try to get some sleep; all this upheaval is feeding my insomnia. (Like it needed any help!)

Homesick already! (But look, it's my tram route!)

As I pack up all the belongings in my flat, not only do I contemplate burning everything instead, and dancing around the bonfire (or putting it all out for hard waste collection, which wouldn't be so satisfying without the dance), I also feel just a tiny bit... homesick.

Yes, it's true. I'm starting to miss Germany, before I've even left. Then again, I used to miss Canberra, and everybody (except those born there, who've never left) knows that Canberra is a boring old hole full of public servants and oversized roundabouts. And yet, I missed it when I left. I missed the comfortable habits, familiar haunts, the second-hand book fairs... and yes, my pleasant public service job.

Relocating to a new town or city, a new state, and especially a new country changes every aspect of life. It can be a frightening prospect, not exciting like a holiday, because there's no option of going "home" again. (And moving isn't relaxing, either: the preparations are so time-consuming and wearying that I haven't even been near my blog in nearly a week. Ooh, dear.)

Every move gives me somewhere new to miss. Leaving Germany makes me homesick for everywhere I've ever lived, for every hope, every dream of settling down somewhere and being comfortably boring forever. I miss, too, the thoughts I've had that are tied to the places I've had them in. All those little reminders of people and experiences get left behind when you move. In a new place, I won't have the comfort of walking past my memories every day.

Obviously, England promises an easier life (for starters, I ought to be able to communicate with people properly), and a society I can be more actively involved in. Once again, I'll be able to understand TV shows and newspapers and answer the telephone without a feeling of dread.

But, on the other hand, I'll never again watch the seasons change in Park Sanssouci, or scoff Milchschnitte when I'm hungry late at night. I won't hear this announcement when I get off the S-Bahn, because there won't be an S-Bahn:

The footage on that one is a bit wonky, but perhaps if I just listen to the sound on an endless loop it will help me sleep better at night once I hit the UK. (Either that, or I'll go mad.)

I'm not sure who films all these public transport trips, but a quick glance at YouTube leads me to believe that the train/tram spotters make up a bigger group than I would have expected. Or, alternatively, there could be just a small band of very enthusiastic guys filming public transport everywhere and watching their own videos thousands of times, plus commenting under countless pseudonyms. Hmm. It might be possible.

At any rate, here's another video: the tram (Potsdam tram 91, on its way to Bahnhof Pirschheide) stops at the end of my street at approx 1:30. If I ever get desperately homesick, I can just look at these, I suppose... thanks, all you YouTubing public transport fans. You perform a valuable public service!

To drool over: Welsh food!

I hadn’t known much about Welsh food before I started planning my trip, but I made a point of trying traditional fare, such as cawl or Welsh cakes, whenever I could. Delicious!

Traditional Welsh food is flavourful, unpretentious and filling, and the quality of fresh, local produce really shines through in a well-prepared dish.

One of the attractions of staying in a B&B was, for me, the option of a hearty cooked Welsh breakfast, and I wasn’t disappointed. We stayed at the Old Radnor Barn in Talgarth, where the accommodation was delightful and the hosts were kind, friendly, helpful and patient with all our odd behaviour. (We had never stayed in a B&B before, and I think it showed!)

The Old Radnor Barn is child-friendly accommodation (complete with splasher pool in the garden if you visit in the warmer months). We booked a double room with a portable cot (available for use in any room for £5), but, as the family room was unoccupied that night, we were lucky enough to be upgraded to the larger room.

Breakfast was as wonderful as I’d hoped, with the most delicious bacon and sausages (from the famous Morris Butchers of Blaenavon) on offer… and I should point out that I'm not particularly carnivorous, but this was really good meat! (Had I wanted something lighter or meatless, there were, of course, plenty of other tasty options.)

When we arrived in the evening and were welcomed by Lynne (after somebody in my party - no names - accidentally barged straight into her kitchen and gave her a bit of a surprise), she was very helpful in suggesting local places to eat. In fact, even though it was late and we hadn’t pre-ordered dinner at the B&B (which you can do), she offered to rustle something up for us herself if we couldn’t find anything else.

There were a couple of family-friendly Talgarth eateries just a short walk away on Bronllys Road, including a fish and chip shop adjoining a pub (where you can apparently eat your fish and chips in the pub, a novel concept for me), though the fish and chip shop was shut that night, and a new Thai restaurant (the Gatha Thai) adjoining another pub, the Crown Inn.

This was the only time in my life that I’ve sat in a pub (with a Coke from the bar) waiting for my takeaway Thai. But what a memory! My daughter ran loose with the other (local) kids, everyone said hello… and suddenly, I saw the appeal of pubs, despite never having liked them in Australia. It was warm, friendly and very comfortable. And, to top it off, the food was pretty tasty, too.

I was very sorry to have to leave Talgarth so quickly. It was a beautiful spot and I would’ve loved to explore the wider area of the Brecon Beacons and the Black Mountains thoroughly. (Maybe next time!)

Moving onwards, through cawl and delicious brown bread at Carreg Cennen Castle, and into the big city, there was a wide range of international cuisine to be found in Cardiff (and a good selection of child-friendly restaurants, offering children’s menus and colouring materials/activities).

If you expect food in Wales to be awful, you’re very much mistaken. There’s a lot of marvellous, quality food to be found… and even if you just want something quick and greasy, there’s plenty of good, vinegary fish and chips to be had!

Further information on Welsh food, for those who really love to eat

• An introduction to traditional Welsh foods
• Traditional Welsh recipes, so you can try cooking Welsh food yourself at home when you miss Wales (which I’m certain you will, once you’ve visited!)
• Local Welsh growers and producers – find out what's available at your planned destinations, or perhaps plan some extra pit-stops!
• Some suggestions for where to eat out "in style" in Wales
• Restaurants with rooms – a bit different from the B&B, and a mouth-wateringly good concept. It’s worth noting that Wales has two Michelin-starred restaurants, the Crown at Whitebrook and Plas Bodegroes, both of which are restaurants with rooms. (Here's a list of 5-star restaurants with rooms, as well as B&Bs and other accommodation, but this is just a starting point.)

Screamless: a small girl runs free in South-East and Mid Wales

My daughter doesn’t have the greatest liking for stuffy, indoor, grown-up carryings-on. She's never liked sitting still, or being pushed around or carried through museums, galleries or palaces. She has always preferred to run free.

Wales was, in retrospect, a stroke of genius in terms of choosing a family holiday destination. Firstly, because Mummy was desperate to visit, and secondly, because it was a destination that a small girl could enjoy. It was a place she could run almost wild, make noise, and make friends with strangers (adults and children alike). It was a place where she was welcome, and welcome to be herself.

Gall henebion fod yn beryglus - Rhaid goruchwylio plant bob amser (Ancient monuments can be dangerous - Children should be supervised at all times)

A visit to an awe-inspiring ruined castle or abbey is the perfect activity for anyone with children able to walk. You can all get some fresh air, explore, and even the youngest children will have a wonderful time, while burning off some excess energy that may have built up during a car ride. There’s no need for you to hold onto them constantly or hiss “Shhh! Get back! And don’t touch!”

And, without constant grizzling and pleas to leave (or glares from security guards worried about Junior's sticky fingers or muddy boots), the interested adult or older child can take the time to read their information leaflet or guidebook. Everybody wins.

Having said that, ruins do pose their own dangers. They’re not adventure playgrounds, and for the sake of the site, other visitors, and your own kids, adequate supervision and “no climbing” instructions are vital.

Many castles, too, have other dangers onsite, in the form of cliffs, steep and narrow staircases, missing floors, dark tunnels/stairwells, holes, steep hills, and so on. It’s all part of the experience and the excitement, but caution is vital.

Sites run by Cadw (the historic environment service of the Welsh Assembly Government) offer family tickets for two adults and any accompanying children under 16, a very good deal indeed if you have a medium or larger family! (Note: children under 5 have free entry.) And, whether you're accompanied by children or not, if you’re planning to visit a few sites within a limited timeframe, there are also good value 3- or 7-day Explorer Passes to choose from.

Most sites either have their own toilets/baby change facilities, or are within close proximity to such facilities (if you’re not sure, check the Cadw website for facilities and accessibility information).

Many popular attractions also have other family-friendly aspects, such as the working farm at the base of the walk to Carreg Cennen Castle. My daughter was fascinated by the farm animals (and so was I), which included some rare Welsh breeds. There were also farm buildings and displays to see, which added a whole new dimension to our castle visit, and gave us all an insight into another way of life.

The walk up the hill to the castle, past gorgeous sheep and stunning views of the countryside, was nothing short of exhilerating. (From the moment we’d seen the castle appear on the hill as we drove towards the farm, I’d had trouble believing it was real. The view was the stuff of my childhood dreams.) I couldn’t wait to get up there, and when I did, I wasn’t disappointed.

Although there had been plenty of cars in the carpark, the castle wasn’t crowded at all, and there was a very friendly atmosphere of a big family day out. Older children made friends with my daughter, even trying to speak Welsh with her (although her foreignness was obvious enough that friendly grownups asked plenty of questions about her origins). We had hired torches to take down into the cave below the castle, but found the way down a bit too difficult with a toddler. Carreg Cennen Castle is definitely one of those sites that requires parents to keep their wits about them, but it's well worth visiting if you get the chance.

Cardiff: a very quick glimpse (as seen by mother chasing toddler)

While there’s a wealth of things to do in Cardiff, many of them perfect for older children, my focus was, naturally, on finding things to do with a toddler. She was delighted to run loose in Bute Park, and around the Bay, where she had her first ever carousel ride (with me). She’s since seen photos of the carousel and demanded to go back to Cardiff!

My daughter even enjoyed popping inside the Millennium Centre to get out of the weather for a bit. We had a stop at one of the cafes there, and yes, took advantage of the excellent toilet/baby change facilities. I would have loved a tour of the building (and of the beautiful Senedd building close by), but on this flying visit, and with that toddler, it wasn’t to be. We did take her to visit the Doctor Who Up Close Exhibition in the Red Dragon Centre, which, perhaps surprisingly at her age then, she really enjoyed. I think she’d enjoy it even more now that she’s old enough to enjoy pretending she’s a “baby Dalek”. (Don’t ask.) And then there’s her reaction if she sees a man who she thinks resembles David Tennant…

My verdict: yes, I'm just bursting to take her back to that carousel!

(For more photos, please see the slideshow on the right-hand side of the blog.)