I remember in the month before we emigrated to New Zealand for the first time, back in March 2012, I used to get such a kick out of telling people we were moving to the other side of the world. The day before we went, I was in Tesco’s and the lady on the checkout asked, ‘Are you doing anything nice this weekend?”. It was so much fun to say, “Yes actually, I am moving to New Zealand.” I loved telling family and friends, because they were shocked, but in a good way. Pleased for us getting to do something so out of the ordinary and curious to see up-close how the whole emigration thing works, not least because NZ is a very pleasant place to visit.

It was quite an out-of-the-blue decision.  Neither of us had even holidayed in New Zealand or Australia.  When I was younger, I was obsessed with the States and Gareth probably imagined living in Ibiza, but “down-under” had never featured.  We were going to go for a couple of years.  So even though we had no idea what it would be like, the city we were moving to had just been obliterated by a series of large earthquakes, we had a baby and a toddler and our marriage had just been wrung out by four years of infertility then two babies in quick succession – it was an adventure. If it was awful, we missed home or couldn’t settle, then we’d see out a couple of years, get as much out of the experience as possible and return back home before the children started school. A “total disaster” was limited to two years.

As it happens, we had a wonderful time. We settled in quickly. The children blossomed. As did our relationship. Gareth and I achieved lots in our work. We became part of the community. We made a home. We were happy and the years ticked by.

There is a term “Ping-Pong Poms”. It refers to Brits who move to New Zealand (and I imagine Australia) and then move back to the UK, most likely for family reasons, then decide they prefer their life in NZ so move back. And I guess this can happen multiple times, hence ping pong – bouncing back and forth.

Without going into details (because I already have and you can read about it in previous blogs) that’s effectively what we have just done. We moved back to the UK in May 2017, because for various reasons we thought it was the right thing to do. Then in September 2018 we moved back to NZ, because this is where we want to be.

It was good to go back to the UK. There were many good things that came out of us being back. This isn’t the blog where I list all those good things. There is totally a blog full of awesome things I loved about our 16 months in the motherland. I will write it, because I love Britain and I don’t think there are enough good things said about it online.

One of the key things we learnt from what we are now fondly referring to as our “overseas experience” in the UK, is that it helped us to see that despite life in both countries being equal in pros and cons, we choose New Zealand to base ourselves for the rest of our children’s childhood and most likely beyond. Another lesson we have learnt is that never say ‘forever’, unless it’s a lifetime promise to God or your spouse.

So we came back. And I have to say, when it’s your third emigration and you did it twice within 16 months, the novelty really wears off.

Administratively, emigration is like moving house.  You have to pack up, your stuff is moved, you have to unpack.  The thing is, your stuff takes about three months to move. So it’s not like you pack up and then the next day you are unpacking it all in the new house. No. You pack up 97% of everything you own and you have to survive on the remaining 3% in suitcases for three months. You may have lots of money and can rent a furnished place but if you’re like us, then you have to effectively camp for quite some time. And I have to tell you, cooking with only one pan, sleeping on a blow up mattress for weeks on end and bringing bags of washing to your friend’s houses, can get old.

The other thing about emigration, is that you are not only moving house, you are also moving jobs, moving schools, moving churches, changing cars, changing bank accounts, making new friends, switching phone plans, shopping in new supermarkets, getting membership for new libraries. Seriously EVERYTHING changes apart from what is in your suitcase, which actually ends up getting really boring after month one.

It’s exhausting and really stressful. I think what makes it even more stressful, is that all around you, people are just carrying on as normal. Life goes on as usual for everyone else. It’s only you that is in this bubble where you’re doing all the same things that everyone else is except your life has literally been turned upside down and it’s taking everything you have to just fit in with normal.

The last two times, we have timed our emigration so we essentially have two springs and summers in one year and skip Autumn and Winter. Sounds good doesn’t it. It is nice. However – if you have school aged children – it has a major drawback. Lots and lots of holidays to fill. I am just ending a 10 week stint of summer holidays with my children.  And for those 10 weeks we haven’t been on one single week of what you would term “holiday”, we have either stayed in an unfurnished house or visited family. Not one week was the four of us, chilling out, maybe enjoying some sun, eating out and sight seeing.

I have one term and then we will go back into another seven weeks of summer holidays. Although at least for these ones, we may have our own house and it will have furniture in, so we might not go on a holiday per se, but we will be able to enjoy the luxury of our own home.

I know this isn’t a particularly upbeat, blue sky blog. I could make it a lot longer and qualify every whinge with a “but we’re so thankful for ….”, but I actually want to share where I am up to right now. Yes we are extremely fortunate to be able to emigrate between two wonderful countries, we are blessed to have jobs, our children have been in amazing schools with the best teachers and we’ve all made heaps of gorgeous friends wherever we have landed. People have so much tougher lives than we do. We are blessed.

BUT.

10 weeks is too long to spend every day all day with my children. I am mortified by the amount of money we have spent on hired cars, eating out, flights and shipping. I am desperate to have all my stuff in one place. I am frustrated that we haven’t been able to buy a house yet.  It’s hard starting a new job after a night sleeping on a mattress on the floor and pulling clothes out of a suitcase. I haven’t had a night out with my husband since our anniversary in June. I am anxious about my children potentially having to move school a fourth time in one year. I want to be able to bake banana bread with the bananas that have gone black and not have to throw them out because I don’t have a tin, or whisk, or bowl, or spatula. I don’t like doing my laundry in a tub that strangers have just used. House buying is not fun after you have looked at over 30 houses and they are either too small, not in the right school zone or just out of your budget. I really want to sit on a sofa instead of leaning on a box on the floor!

Anyways, just wanted to let you know. Emigration is exciting, but there is a tricky underside to it.