As daylight emerged and I took my dog out for her morning walk, I was captivated by the number of bloodied mannequin limbs, partially buried doll heads, hanging witches with apparent skeletal issues, and the more traditional giant spiders and pumpkin displays. For a hillside community with mostly rugged gardens, the converted landscape is impressive. It looks amazing and I love it!
One thing is for certain, I shall not be buying any cotton web-like decoration. My resident spiders provide plenty on their own. It's the first time in decades I've felt a neighborhood momentum of excitement for the 31st. What a sense of pride. In the next two weeks I'll get my own modest collection of decs out. I'm ready with my mini Crunchie Bars and snack size Maltesers.
In case you were wondering, yes - indeed those are British candies. I planned ahead. Kids calling at my door will be in for something a little different from the usual Snickers and Hershey's minis.
Hallowe'en falls just before Bonfire night/Guy Fawkes, so more of the celebration in the UK happens that night with local fireworks. I saw a slow progression of some communities there somewhat embracing Hallowe'en since 1992, the first one I spent there.
I recall in the early 2000's in Wales that it seemed to be a night for aspiring ASBO* teenagers to get up to no good, throwing eggs and breaking car windshields. (*anti-social behavior order)
Later when I lived in Bristol, a colleague from work said she refused to let her children trick or treat, "It's beggin', in'nit?"
It must have been 2011 when we had a warmer autumn in London that a few parents actually brought their small kids around. No rain and a candle-lit jack-o-lantern in the window brought a decent turnout (four!). I was thrilled to have been prepared.
As for adult fun, I had the honor of attending a friend's birthday/H'ween party (Ebony & Ivory) five years in a row, always in a different venue somewhere in East London. Each year I had to get more creative with my costume. The best was my doping cyclist, complete with syringe.
In both London and Bristol over the past two weeks, Christmas preparation was much more prevalent. Shops already selling Christmas themed gift boxes, ornaments, crackers and mince meat pies.
Refreshingly, I haven't seen a single Christmas display or circular/paper advert in my county of California yet.
Still in the expat-transitional fog, I can only describe my visits 'home' to London/UK as weird.
Within the first day of landing there were a few cultural idiosyncrasies reminding me I was glad I had moved away from there.
I rode the 108 bus from North Greenwich station one day - my old commute route - thinking to myself, "My god, sitting on this bus is the LAST place I'd ever thought I'd spend part of my holiday…"
Bermondsey underground station on the Jubilee line: still seemingly pointless with never more than five people on the entire platform waiting to board and maybe two getting off the train, even during peak hours. It's been that way as long as I remember it. Even as a non-resident I am still questioning the relevance of it and irritated that we need to stop there.
Yes, it rained. People shut down into their compressed personal-space bubbles on the street, on the trains, on the bus… The free Metro paper still litters the trains and station benches.
The deeper substance comes from meeting with loved ones and dear friends, dining out, sitting on a damp bench in Greenwich Park. Those memories have been the most meaningful, and definitely drive my incentive for keeping up regular visits (along with professional interests now and then).
Whilst packing up to leave, the extent of my duality occurred to me as I accounted for two wallets, two passports, two phones….
As my plane descended towards towards the airport in California, I looked out at the terrain of my current home and still couldn't figure out how to decipher where I feel most rooted. For now, home is where the doggie is.
~ Em
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