"Escape to the Country" and Write!

By Morgan Tarpley Smith

These past two weeks have been a little rough for this writer. I woke up one morning with a sore throat, and it quickly progressed into a really bad summer cold complete with runny nose and coughing until my whole head and neck were sore. I usually get hit pretty hard by these type things, but I usually can take some strong meds and knock it out.

Not this time though because I am currently 11 weeks pregnant, and there are not many strong meds you can take. Therefore, I found myself home from work several days and over the whole weekend. All I could do was take the meds I could, drink hot tea, and lie on the couch. By day two, it was taking its toll on me.

I tried to write. I tried to read. I could not focus on anything. I could barely get up off the couch. My head pounded, and I coughed nearly constantly. What was I to do?

Enter Netflix. I don’t watch many movies or television programs. I tend to write and read with my spare time. But scanning through Netflix’s offerings, I spotted a show that ended up saving my sanity and my writer’s mind over the course of nearly two weeks. It’s called “Escape to the Country,” and it truly was the escape I needed at the time.

It’s the neatest show – a combo of house hunting meets rural documentary. The show focuses on helping prospective buyers view three country home options in the U.K. with most of the shows filmed all over England. The buyers view the houses during the episode but also have a local experience with something of interest to them and the show’s host also experiences something that’s locally noted.

There is only one season on Netflix with 22 episodes. Each episode is 43 minutes in length – and I have now watched them all in just under two weeks. It was the escape I needed from my illness, and it also was what I needed to engage my writer’s mind – even if my mind was bit muddled at the time.

All the special little tidbits of British history and that county’s way of life definitely inspired me for future novels and trips to the U.K. You never know where inspiration will come from next.

Do you have a movie or television show that has inspired you recently in your writing or just in general? I’d love to hear about it.

Morgan Tarpley Smith

Morgan Tarpley Smith is an award-winning newspaper reporter and photographer in Louisiana. She is also an aspiring inspirational novelist for adults and middle grade students. 

Besides writing and traveling to over a dozen countries, her interests include acting in her local theater, genealogy, photography, and singing. She resides in Louisiana with her husband.

There's No Place Like Home

When people ask me where I'm from (a question that often follows shortly after I say a few words in my rather odd accent) I usually pause before giving a reply. It's a simple question that most people can answer without much thought. For me, however, depending on the circumstances and how long I want the conversation to last, I can give one of four answers:
- England (I was born there)
- South Africa (I was raised there)
- USA (I was conceived there)
- Holland (I've lived there for twelve years)

I used to have a strong Blackpool accent. I only lived there till age five, but that was long enough for me to sound thoroughly Lancastrian. I remember once swimming in the sea in Cape Town and bumping into someone. I turned and, in perfect Blackpudlian, said: "Sozz 'ey!". The gentleman looked at me with a blank expression. I suddenly realized what I had said and offered a quick translation: "Sorry!"

Actually, I was probably incomprehensible to most South Africans during my first year in the country, but then I struggled just as hard to get a grip on their language. The standard South African greeting of: "Howzit?" initially elicited a response from me of: "Fine thanks. How are you?" This generally resulted in a puzzled look. Only later did I realize that "howzit" was South African slang for "hello". So I was effectively having the following conversation:
South African: "Hello!"
Me: "Fine thanks. How are you?"

No wonder they gave me funny looks. Thanks to the vagaries of South African slang, I spent most of the first few years wondering what language the other kids were speaking. It was allegedly English, but many words were incomprehensible. Here are the ones I remember hearing the most:
ag (with a guttural "g" similar to the "ch" in Scottish "loch) - oh
just now - in a minute (but can also mean: "at some unknown time in the future")
bra - pal, male friend
braai - barbecue
tune - talk
klap - hit
lighty - younger, smaller person
heavy - arrogant person, bully
kiff - cool (nice)
ja-nee - literally "yes-no", meaning a hesitant agreement¨
lekker - nice
china - friend
pozzie - house
jammie - car
ek sê - I say
park off - sit down, relax
tea room - corner shop

A typical conversation between Durban teenagers might include something like this: "Howzit going my china? You wanna bring your jammie round to my pozzie so we can park off and have a braai, ek sê?"  This translates roughly as: "Hi buddy. Do you want to drive round to my place and we can relax and have a barbecue?"

I eventually lost my Blackpool accent and picked up a South African version, although it seemed to settle somewhere between the two. South Africans thought I was from New Zealand while the English often assumed I was from the US (although some accused me of "talking posh"). While my accent was (and still is) uncertain, my loyalties have always been firmly rooted in South Africa. I don't remember my first three years of life, so I only have memories of four years in England. By contrast, I spent my formative years in South Africa. We moved around a lot, but I did spend my entire high school career in one place, so I consider myself a South African. English by birth, yes, but South African at heart. To this day, if England play rugby against the Springboks, I support the men in green and gold.

As for Holland, well I'm undecided. There are strong ties between South Africa and the Dutch. Sometimes when I listen to a Dutch person speaking, I can almost imagine them sitting around a braai with a Lion lager in one hand and a plate loaded with boerewors in the other. Perhaps that's why we've been living there so long. I tried Belgium for a year but never felt at home, even though one of their official languages is a dialect of Dutch which sounds quite similar to Afrikaans. They were usually friendly until they realized we weren't local, so I never felt at home there.

Last week we bought the DVD of the 2012 London Olympics, and something strange happened. For the first time in my twenty five years away from South Africa, I found myself feeling proud of the British athletes. Perhaps all this time away from the country where I grew up is starting to take its toll. Perhaps my allegiances are starting to shift. Perhaps my country of birth is finally winning my loyalty. After all, Britain is a pretty amazing place and I do have fond memories from my few early years. The litmus test, however, will be three years from now. The rugby world cup is being held in Britain in 2015. I'm curious to see who I'll be supporting when England and South Africa take to the field. Twenty eight years is a long time, so it could go either way, but I suspect I know which team I'll be rooting for.

Now if you'll excuse me my china, I have to take my jammie to the tea room before heading to my pozzie. If the weather is lekker this weekend, we'll be needing meat for the braai, ek sê.