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What Color Affects Your Happiness?

A personal story of inexplicable unhappiness.city; we set out, once more, for the airport.
Several years ago my husband and I left NewBut that sense of loss and discomfort had
Zealand, to travel through several States ofgrown much stronger and I struggled to
North  America  and  Mexico.identify its cause. I was becoming seriously
depressed, even though I was on a wonderful
The flight left in the early evening, flyingholiday. Whatever could be wrong? I'd slept
straight out from Auckland, leaving behindcomfortably; so it couldn't be jetlag. I was
myriads of twinkling lights and dark blueluxuriously accommodated, so it wasn't
velvet seas. Approximately twelve hoursdiscomfort  either.
later, our aircraft descended at Los Angeles,
through a sickly soup of greyish-yellow fog.We moved on, flying from Cleveland to
It bumped down on the tarmac, to the kind ofChicago, Illinois, where we stopped
depressing pollution for which Los Angeles isovernight, before travelling up next
famous.afternoon, to Milwaukee by railroad. During
the morning, we visited the Chicago Art
Not wishing to venture outside, we collectedMuseum and I was fascinated to spy a family
our things and scurried to transfer on to anof grey squirrels, frolicking among the
earlier flight to Atlanta, Georgia. Oncefrosty, bare-branched azalea bushes in the
clear of Los Angeles, it was a beautifulgarden, fronting the Gallery, on Madison
experience flying across the United States,Avenue.
viewing from the windows of our plane, the
moving geography of a mighty country in allNext morning, as the train passed through the
its  beautiful  colors.Wisconsin countryside, we marvelled at the
magnificent German-inspired architecture of
We crossed the mountains, their tops gleamingfarm homesteads. The spring thaw was just
with the last of the winter's snow and flewbeginning and what grass we could see, still
over the chequered plains beyond. Below us,had that lifeless, straw-colored look, we'd
we saw the mighty Mississippi River, with itsnoticed at all our previous stopovers.
many boats scurrying up and down that mightyAlthough a pale sun filtered across the
waterway like ants carrying cargoes andlandscape, it was still far too cold for the
building their nest. After sitting for abare  trees  to  sprout  leaves.
while in a holding pattern, over Georgia, we
eventually landed in Atlanta, an airportOn arrival at Milwaukee, we were greeted by
about  four times the size of Sydney airport.the same sepia tinted landscape, as we drove
to the hotel, and I felt again, the grip of
Apart from the shopping, our stay in Atlantaunfamiliar unease and depression. Determined
was relatively uneventful - I did the usualto get the most out of this trip, I tried to
tours and shopped, while my husband attendedignore these unhappy feelings. To combat
a conference. Two days later, with heavierthem, I set about being busy, in an
bags, we headed north on a flight to Buffalounfamiliar  city.
-  en  route  to  Niagara  Falls,  Canada.
The next day, on our return to the Phister
Circling Buffalo airport five times,hotel from a tour of Milwaukee, the doors of
(something that is considered exceptionalour hotel lift sprang apart and a large group
over there), during which, there were severalof women, carrying prized tiny poinsettia
emergencies with defective landing gear, theplants,  spilled  out  into  the hotel foyer.
crew eventually put the plane down on to the
tarmac. As we slewed round to a halt on theMemories of my healthy ten-foot high
snow-covered runway, the relieved Americanpoinsettia bush, growing at the front doorway
travellers, more aware of the emergency thanof my home flooded back and I felt homesick
we were, showered the crew with tumultuousfor the first time in my life. Try as I
applause.might, I couldn't shake off the depression
and  sense  of  loss,  I  felt.
By this time, it was dark and we shivered, as
we emerged from the plane, to the wintryShopping till we dropped, after seeing the
chill of minus fourteen degrees. Warmed bysights, we finally pushed our trolleys
hot coffee from the airport café, we beganthrough the airport, towards our plane to
the twenty-two mile drive from Buffalo toMexico City. Once in the air, we enjoyed the
Niagara Falls in a cab. It was the beginningflight down the path of the mighty
of March, just around the time of the springMississippi River, which wound its way south,
thaw, although to us it felt like being into the Gulf of Mexico. For a while, the deep
the middle of a hard winter in Queenstown,feelings of unease subsided, as our minds
New  Zealand.concentrated  on  the  view  below  us.
The cab driver, a New York State man - bornFive hours later, we landed at Mexico's
in the Bronx - and his non-stop humorousairport, soaring down through a blanket of
patter, kept us entertained on the long, coldthick smog that enshrouded that mighty city,
drive to the Falls. Fortunately, my husbandhome at that time, to eighteen million
had the presence of mind, to tape thepeople.
conversation, so we have since enjoyed
reliving  that  ride,  many  times  over.Finally emerging through the gates, we were
swept into a Combi Van, in the guise of a
On entering Niagara Falls and before beingtaxi, to begin the ride of our lives. In and
dropped to our hotel, on the Canadian side,out of an unending flood of traffic, our
we called to see the tail end of the Niagaradriver wove his van, hooting and screaming
Falls  evening  illuminations.indecipherable oaths at other drivers, as he
went. Memories of the song `Tijuana Taxi'
Although slabs of ice, crashing onto thewere vividly recalled, as we hurtled forward
river below, seemed enchanting, the colors- accelerator - brake, swerve, accelerator -
playing on the cascading water andbrake, swerve, towards our hotel, a former
illuminating the fine misty spray, which roseMexican  palace.
several hundred feet into the air above the
river, left us breathless. We were entrancedAs our tortured vehicle squealed round a
to see frozen spray dropping down on to thecorner on the Zocalo; the largest - and
trees below, to form perfect icicles. At thatbusiest - highway in the world; I saw a sight
moment, were in wonderland. But, oh it was sothat  brought  tears  to  my  eyes.
cold!
On a traffic island, in the middle of this
Next morning, we awoke to temperatures ofamazingly busy highway, stood a tree. A tree,
minus eight degrees, which quickly plummetedso green, it brought a lump to my throat. At
to minus twelve. Weak rays of pale sunshine,that sight, I cried like a baby. That tree
valiantly tried to warm the frozen landscape,revealed  the  answer  to  my  distress.
through which we toured the famous sights
around  the  falls.Green! An absence of green from my life had
deeply  disturbed  my  happy  disposition.
Looking out at the frozen spectacle was like
stepping back in time. I was reminded of myI'd travelled this huge distance, to find out
mother's battered photo album with its manyhow important is one of the most basic
sepia-toned  photographs.influences on my life. Green! It is a color
deeply embedded in my psyche. The
The trees in North America are deciduous,surroundings of my lifetime were peppered
losing their leaves in autumn, before thewith green, as the dominant flora of New
bitter winter's chill attacks them. The sepiaZealand  is  made  up  of  evergreen  trees.
colors I was encountering in that wintry
panorama  seemed  the  same  as in the album.During my childhood, many of my spare hours
were spent happily climbing the trees
Two days later, we left again for Buffalo, tosurrounding my home, a place of exquisitely
fly on to Cleveland in Ohio. A sharp frostgreen lawns and clipped hedges. In
had left an icy terrain in its wake and, asflashbacks, I remembered my adolescence, when
we drove to Buffalo, through miles ofI'd tramped through miles of mountain beech
snow-covered landscape, I began to feel aforests, without ever realising, what a vital
decided unease that I blamed on jetlag. I waspart they played. And now, an adult, I'd
depressed; although depression is notcreated luxuriant gardens, featuring lush
something  I  have  previously  suffered.green  ferns  and  evergreen  trees.
Our stay in Cleveland was unusual; we arrivedYet, for more than forty years, I'd taken
for St Patrick's Day and witnessed a huge Stthose important and fertile surroundings for
Patrick's parade, where thousands of genuinegranted  -  until  that  moment.
(and would-be), Irishmen, turned out for the
celebration. It was interesting to see dyedIn that instant, when I saw that tree, I knew
green hair and to drink green beer.my life could never be complete without the
Everything  that  day  was  Irish!healing and relaxing shades of green; the
color of Mother Nature herself. I'll never
A day later, after exploring the touristforget how important a part the color green
haunts and Art Galleries of Cleveland,plays in my life. It is the source of my
tempered overnight, by a whiteout blizzard,happiness and inspiration.
which dumped deep snowdrifts on the cheerless



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