From bowling balls to swirly clouds

I sit dozily at an incredibly slow computer in the underrated town of Vang Vieng - Laos. We've since conquered Luang Prabang, the french world heritage site with no loud noises, hundreds of monks in bright orange attire and beautiful french architecture lining the streets. We began by finding our guesthouse that had been reccommended by our french friends in the previous town we were in. We rocked up, picking up a few new friends from the boat E., J. and O. on the way. A cool dude from the Isle of White and 2 lovely Canadian girls that are almost finished uni. The beauty of arriving in a big group (given there's space) is you practically get a dorm for yourself, making it our new home again and again by draping cloth and clothes here and there, lights on when you want them and curtains closed when you choose. J. emptied the contents of  his bag all over the bed as soon as we arrived, and those that shotgunned the shower first hopped in after a long and sweaty 7 hour boat ride. It was funny coming out of the shower smelling like Shampoo and walking into our dorm that 10 minutes ago had smelt fine, but the contrast was appalling as everyone's dirty washing created a not-so-pleasant odour..

V.Ball at Utopia

Veg Buffet

The boys followed their stomachs and were out of the hostel faster than we'd arrived, looking for food in the night market. J. and I decided to follow a different crew for a meal - settling with noodle soup for $2.50 that left our mouths burning and our noses streaming. We walked through the markets after dinner and it all came rushing back. You know when you've been to a place before, and you return to exactly the same scene, it's like travelling back in time. The little ladies selling their wares. Handmade shirts, colourful bags, block printed paintings, metal bracelets made out of bomb fragments, bottles of dead snakes fermenting in rice wine. It went on and on and on, getting hotter and hotter as you walked passed the smoky BBQ's and street vendors, the smoke getting trapped under the cloth above our heads. We bumped into our Israeli friend that had moved on a few days before us - having drinks at a suave french bar after being succesfully seduced with a 'free cocktail' flier. The curfew here as I've said before, is 11pm, which makes everything rather rushed once the clock's struck 9:00pm. The place to be in LP is Utopia, an outside bar with comfy cushions where people lie smoking shisha or watching extreme sports. Round the back is a huge volleyball court where the drunk gather to smash the ball in whatever direction they please as hand-eye-coordination slowly declines. It was so bizaare when you walked around and noticed the huge missiles sticking out of the ground, the missile that had been turned on its side and made into a BBQ or the one that the toilet paper rested on in the corner of the bathroom.

Golden Buddha's

When 11pm strikes, the crowds are whisked off by eager tuk tuk drivers, to the bowling alley, the only place in LP that stays open until 3am. I expected disco lights and dancing but we arrived to bright, fluorescent lights, bowling and Justin Bieber in the background. It wasn't until later that I realized why none of the bars here have dance floors.. dancing in Luang Prabang is illegal. Go figure? I don't understand the logic..
It's nice having everyone staying at the same hostel, it means you can be shuttled away with a group and will most likely end up home -- the second floor being the post-bowling gathering spot where bongs, papers and cups scattered the table and a sign reading 'Stay QUIET after 12!' was prominently stuck on the pillar above the table.
The next morning we all herded to the breakfast vendors selling fruit shakes and fresh baguettes with your choice of filling. We noticed how it was only foreigners eating here, ah well it worked for us. We wanted to do something productive with our day so haggled a tuk-tuk down to a reasonable price and headed off to the waterfalls. We arrived to the garden of Eden, 'a Disney scene', an Oasis. I'd been before but it never ceases to amaze how stunning the turqoise water is. Nothing could spoil this scene but bad weather, luckily the sun was on our side. We swung off ropes all day into the still water, hopping out as the little fish nibbled your toes and later meditating in the serenity.
That evening everyone was starving, so we appropriately found a vegetarian buffet in which they gave you a plate for just over a dollar, and allowed you to pile it as high as you wanted -- the boys came over to the table precariously balancing their piles of food. Utopia and various moments of chunder followed that night.

Typical breaky

The next day, after a painful experience at a ridiculously slow internet cafe, attempting to upload photo's as back-up and having the computer turn on and off for an hour. The day got progressively better luckily, as we explored temples around the town and had a coffee and a few flower fumes at a sweet cafe over hanging the Mekong and then ending up with the crew at the notorious Veg. buffet again.. the law of 'no dancing' wasn't an issue that evening as we lay happily watching extreme sports in awe, monged out on the cushions. That evening we met a Kiwi Off-shore worker thats minted mate was having a 33rd birthday party at 'the pool' the next day, with $1000 tab to share. Ah the beauty of bars.

Crazy missiles

The next day was 'Justin's big birthday', we arrived to see hundreds of people and an empty tab that had been cleared of drinks in the first 2 hours, it was only 2pm. We talked, swam and kicked around the ball until dinner time when we treated ourselves to our regular Indian. Seeing the total price made us laugh as for 10 people we were paying the equivalent of 1 person back 'home' (in London). We ended with these little tapioca rice puddings that they serve in little banana leaf boxes on the street, and chunks of vibrant red watermelon. The night brought us back to the second floor of our hostel, with our new Israeli friends 'Tslil and Daphna', it was interesting discussing religious views with the first agnostic Israeli-Jew I'd met so far. We'd be interrupted momentarily by the annoying child that ran around constantly crying and throwing toy trucks at the stray cats that roamed the area.
The following night was the same child's birthday I think, and it was a night of silence for once. The owner of the guesthouse provided everyone with a free 'instant noodle' dinner and birthday cake that lined everyone's stomachs well for the night that followed. I was missing wheat -- having a wheat-allergy restricts a lot in terms of diet. No instant noodles, baguettes, toast, pasta. It's a lot easier to follow in Asia when rice is the main starch but I was missing my western food as well and craved a baguette or an oreo (that's all the rage here). That day had been a relaxed one. We'd spent it reading, writing, sorting out bank stuff and eating banana-chocolate-peanut butter crepes. In the evening 'Life of Pi' was showing at 'the bookshop'. It was upstairs, in an attic almost, where books lined the walls and everyone had a cup of tea of hot chocolate. Cushions were scattered everywhere, and we jumped on a spot right in front of the screen as soon as we could. I was apprehensive about watching the movie when the book had been so good, but it projected the writing so perfectly onto the screen. It teaches you so clearly, in a very hollywood-esque way, about so much. It talks about how the bible/ religious texts are just elaborated stories of the simple and basic facts, how to conquer the 'evil' within yourself to survive (symbolized by a tiger) and realizing via coming across the carniverous island, that paradise/ heaven on earth, can turn into hell just as fast. All part of the Yin-Yang I guess.
After the movie we decided to show our faces for a few hours at Utopia, bumping into the girls we'd lived with in 'Sapa, Vietnam' during our home stay. Listening to their adventures/ horror stories about being in a bus that crashed and covering themselves from shards of glass with thin blankets. We touched wood with sympathetic faces, hoping we wouldn't be repeating the story with us as the new characters. That evening we looked around the table, feeling slightly wavy, and realizing most of our crew had moved on to Vang Vieng. It's funny looking around and not recognizing anyone, apart from the new Swedish boys we'd been speaking to, picking up as many tips about our next (and their previous) destination.

The sun-bears by the waterfall

The waterfall

The morning after was the day we were supposed to leave. And it was rather rushed to say the least. J. jumped out of bed at 11.00am realizing he had to pick up forms at the hospital, as I packed his bag and rushed to Utopia to re-claim our clothes that we'd left (who's surprised?) the night before.. We all arrive back in-sync realizing we had over an hour to relax before the bus came. That hour was spent getting breaky and doing a bit of basic chemistry.. extracting Codeine from Paracetamol to crash out on the long, and windy 6 hour bus ride to V.V. 'What's the time' someone mentioned, and when the response was '1:34pm' when we were supposed to leave at '1:30pm' we all slumped our shoulders, realizing we'd indeed missed the bus. Luckily our manager set us up with a 'VIP mini-van' for less than the local-bus price and we all hopped in an hour past 'leaving time'. The mood was wavy until we hit the windy roads, and everyone bit their tongues and kept their stomachs in check as we sat through the very long first couple of hours that lead us into the clouds. We got out at last, letting out a sigh of relief that we were somewhat closer to our destination, and gaping at the thick fog that surrounded us. It was cold again and felt like we were back in Hanoi, the jumpers came out and everyone dissapeared pronto as you couldn't see a metre infront of you. We finally arrived to a dark and quiet Vang Vieng, jumping out at 'Santii-villa guesthouse' that had been reccommended by the Swedes. It was exciting having such huge rooms, clean beds and our own showers. That evening we ate our noodle soups in silence in front of 'Friends' that was showing on TV at the restaurants. Half-way through the meal running into our mates from LP made us all smile. We passed out in front of HBO and a few flower fumes that the bar next door sold in great variety on his 'Happy menu'.
Being in Vang Vieng feels like being in a fairy-tale. It's like the Amsterdam of Asia - menu's selling 'shroom-tea and opium shakes' like it's the most normal thing in the world. We skipped a day at the blue lagoon the next day for a pineapple shroom shake and a day of reflection. Stumbling across a magical bridge that lead to a surreal reality of a stunning lord-of-the-ring'esque river, mountains, locals washing their clothes and people floating individually in tubes down the river. Hot-Air-Balloons rose above us and everyone closed their eyes to experience the visuals and the understanding of the world beyond our shallow perception. We made our way back in time for sun-set to our rooms for a boogie to Pink Floyde, that suddenly seemed so much clearer. That evening was full of laughs on every level.

The day of reflection

Funny tea

The day after we joined the crowds and came back down for a bit of tubing down the Mekong. Though It's changed from a crazy, drunk-tourist centre, it's changed for good. We floated in peace, with the optional bar or 2 a long the way, through spots of sun and in front of gigantic fictional mountains all the way to the end-point that was a few hours down the line. Seeing people get stuck on rocks and tumbling in rapids making everyone giggle a long the way. Sticks were our method of paddling and hooking onto each others feet our way of sticking together. The evening ended with hot showers, a big family dinner, free banana milkshakes and a movie night infront of the 'big screen' at 'Sakura', everyone grunting in frustration as the end of 'Snatch' froze. Banana-chocolate crepes made it all better, and our soft pillows awaited beaming faces back at Santii-villa, our home for the moment being.

Recipe of the day: Rice dumplings

http://www.thekitchn.com/recipe-kenny-laos-rickshaw-dum-74872

Glide with me

Christmas trees <3

Looking outside the window I get shivers and tingles all over. A mini mandy rush as the pale sunlight reflects off the thin layer of frost that's blanketing the ground - the foundation of winter. We're at the beginning, the progression is taking place as we all wait in anticipation for the white snowflakes to make their presence known, before the bitterness sets in and the everyone's hardiness is put to the test. My level of respect for people living in ridiculous climate conditions like Greenland, Sweden or Canada - where there are literally months of darkness, has grown considerably. And this is the beginning? My friend came back from Sweden telling me about the funny light contraptions people wear on their heads. It's basically to give them the 'sunlight' and vitamin D that they can't naturally get from the sun, as well as preventing SAD (Seasonal Affective Disorder) etc.. The thought of resorting to artificial sunlight triggers so many alarm bells in my head, I wouldn't be able to cope with that but kudos to those who do!

The boys

Ice sofas

That's one thing I feel I've taken for granted -- sunlight. The grass is always greener on the other side though right? As Ginger tells us.. ;) -- Living in the heat involved wearing the thinnest clothes possible and no make-up (in fear of it melting off your face) with a the odd hoodie under your arm for those freezing cold, 16°C classrooms that we'd spend half our day sitting in. Warmer weather does drain more of your energy, your body relaxes into a sleep-wake state and your mind drifts as the waves of heat take their toll. My godfather here refuses to turn the heating on in his house to keep everyone 'alert' and stop it turning into a huge, warm, lazy sofa come January. I'd much prefer a the latter but hey, I'm not paying their electricity bills so I don't really have a say. Despite the docile attitude the heat can create, it is a lot easier to deal with. You don't have to worry about forgetting your 50 layers of clothing as you run out the door in shorts and a hoodie - mislead by the deceiving blue sunny sky (yes, this has happened to me on more than one occasion). I suppose it depends on the person and their preferences but I'm definitely more of a warm weather kinda gal - the tropics is a 17 day reach away and the hourglass is sifting that sand faster than I'd like so I shouldn't really spend it complaining about the cold.

My girl

I had a bit of a magical moment the other day. Gliding across the ice with 'santa clause is coming to town' being strummed and sang in a jazzy melody from the bandstand in the centre of the ice rink. I was feeling wintry in my (*faux) fur waistcoat, woolly hat and gloves. The first 10 minutes were terrifying - that unnatural feeling of being out of control as you try and gain your balance while trying to maintain a level of composure and not look like a complete numpty falling on their ass for the 10th time. I let down my guard and held onto the railings with the only other people on the rink that were in my boat, most of them being 10 - 12 year olds.. My mates went zooming off as soon as their skates touched the ice, letting go of any kind of fear and joining the mass surge of ice skaters as they rotated clockwise. Slowly, slowly I picked up the rhythm and was off with them - breathing in the cold night air and watching the millions of little Christmas lights blend into one as we got faster and faster. The bell tolled too soon and it was the end of our turn, we stumbled onto flat, dry ground, feeling funny as the sensation of walking slowly became normal again. The rest of winter wonderland awaited us with open arms. Wooden cabins serving mulled wine and warm cider, hot chocolate, hog roasts, churros, crepes, mountains of macaroons - the options were endless and all so appealing. It reminded me of the party I went to a few weeks ago, 'Regression Sessions'. It was themed around 'childhood', a time to regress - there were various rooms with games, ball pits, bouncy castles and lots of different DJ's. Children's nursery rhymes infused with techno beats echoed through the halls as crowds of drugged up teens swayed through the doors. A little ironic, and a tad corrupt - but lots of fun nevertheless. Winter wonderland was like a childhood fantasy come to life. I walked over to one of the games and bought 7 hoops for 3 pounds. The only aim was to loop a ring around one of the 20 prizes in the centre, I laughed when I saw how easy it looked. But the phrase 'looks can be decieving' rang through my ears as my hoops disappeared to nothing with no prize to claim. That was the only 3 pounds I spent on games that evening.

Mountains of macaroons.

I left Hyde Park with a fun and festive feeling. Reminiscing on how it felt to be 6 years old, waking up on Christmas morning and jumping into your parents bed with a stocking filled with pressies. I'd always pick up my stocking extra carefully, imagining that only hours ago, father Christmas had held it in his hands and filled it up specially (no sexual implications here, I promise). The carrots that we'd left out for the reindeer would be gone, and the glass of brandy for santa would be empty. I was afraid that that feeling of excitement and anticipation was gone, and the only feeling I'd wake up with on Christmas morning was a heavy head - but I've just learnt that it can come back - the beauty of the impermanent nature of feelings.
 I was walking to the station yesterday, passed Sainsburys, the off license, my old school and the post office, when I came to the pub right by the zebra crossing. It was 5pm and the skies light was dimmed - on the wooden table outside the pub was a little boy, about 4 years old. He was lying on the top of a table looking up at the dangling lights above him and just smiling. His eyes glittered and happiness radiated from his beaming face. His nanny was a few metres away shouting at him to get off the table because they needed to leave. We made eye contact and shared a cheeky smile, before he turned back to the lights and resumed his imaginary fantasy.

Just before the bell

When you observe kids and the interaction adults have with them, or even us - It's funny that our automatic response a lot of the time is to tell them off for doing something wrong, this engrained need to control them by assuming the worst. A little boy was running his toy car across a newspaper on the tube yesterday, and got told off for disturbing the man next to him - the man was smiling softly with no hint of blame - it's so unnecessary  I find myself doing that with my brother as well so I understand - I think it comes down to just loosening up and seeing things for what they are, like I mentioned in 'The monster in the closet', it shouldn't take something that does matter for us to realize what really doesn't.

Bathroom jams

Something else I respect about children is their ability to entertain - as adults we have our various methods to reach our ecstatic and whimsical fantasy worlds, but kids do it all the time, naturally. Yes, they don't have the same kind of responsibilities weighing on their shoulders and their heads aren't full of baggage - but if they can enter a state of bliss by merely looking up at Christmas lights, who's to say we can't do the same?
I'm trying to soak in as much of the Christmassy London vibe as I can before I go back to the tropics. I feel a sadness knowing I have to leave behind this home that I'm finally used to.  It's always felt impermanent knowing that there was a timeline to it all - but it's comforting knowing it's still going to lie here unchanged, with all it's bells and whistles when I come back next summer. There's still so much to be discovered in London - I've tasted the cherry that sits on a mountain of cake; so the sadness is impermanent too, like the sand that's making it's way through the hourglass.

Recipe of the day: Churros

http://allrecipes.com/recipe/churros/

The smoke that blushed

Street art I found in East London

Yesterday i was walking through Camden and infront of me a bellow of blue and pink smoke was coming out of a huge industrial dark chimney. It was one of those tiny details amidst a normal routine that puts a smile on your face, I was just waiting for a suitable accompaniment of rainbows, fairies and candy canes to shower down upon the unsuspecting landscape. Below the dreamlike smoke were swarms of preoccupied individuals going about their daily lives with their heads down looking at their phones or buzzing in their own thought bubbles. 

Even though we all share the same environment, we are such seperate entities and our society only emphasizes the fact. We have our own entertainment to start, ipods, phones, books, newspapers. We're tuned into our own thoughts and feelings, and we rarely attempt to merge into the more communal world and really interact with/ feel what's going on around us. We have conversations and link in to one or two other people's fields of existence but we are primarily individuals. Yet what strikes me as odd, is in psychology, one of the sociocultural principles is 'humans feel a need to belong'; within this principle lies the idea that we rely on each other to survive, our whole community and society is built up of various blocks, from farmers to shopkeepers to businessmen, if one stage didn't exist, the rest of our pyramid would fall apart. It's so hard to switch everything off when sometimes it's just a force of habit, and it almost instills fear when you think of the idea of not being able to communicate with everyone in your life for one moment. It scares me when I start to panic after only a day of not checking my emails - but at the same time, in feeling 'connected' to everyone, it creates such a huge disconnect with your physical reality causing a whole percentage of our awareness, and sense of presence to fly out the window. 

East London again

It's funny, when we were younger in 'world studies' we went over the theory's that two great philosophers had about the true characteristics of human beings. Aristotle and Plato I think it was, were more positive about us, they truly believed humans were able to act for the benefit of others and not for self-gain. Whilst Hobbes on the other hand believed humans were completely selfish and every act was for self-gain even if it wasn't conciously done for that purpose. Lets look at a few examples: In helping someone carry their bags up the stairs, you gain satisfaction and content. In having a child, you set yourself up with what will become a physical, emotional and financial support system (that especially benefits you in your older years), in opening yourself up in a relationship 'for' the other person, you gain love, support and all that jazz. Hobbes commonly used the example of letting individuals loose in a sweet shop, or a bank, and taking away rules - what happens? We'd go crazy and grab everything we could, not stand around holding hands. A more recent and solid example is last year when the raids took place in London and the more primal side of the community was revealed, looting shops, stealing whatever there was to steal, getting violent, using weapons etc.

.. And again

When I first learnt about these philosophies, we were asked to give our opinion on whom we agreed with, I chose the more optimistic view. Thinking of humans as purely selfish and evil just didn't float my boat. But as I've grown up and my eyes have widened to the reality of the world, I do believe Hobbes was right, as pessimistic as the idea may be. Our main goal as mammals is to survive - but to do this it does involve helping, supporting and interacting with others, so though at its core our nature may not be full of rainbows and fairies, it does manifest positive outcomes.. but back to where I started.

Street art in Neasden

As I was watching the smoke drift over the conker trees, grey buildings, and billboards advertising the latest and most lustrous hair shampoo! I thought of a poem that made me smile, it was written by a great friend that sadly passed away last year - but her gift of writing should always be appreciated:

People don’t look up. 
They spend their lives absorbed in their feet,
in the pavements,
in the leaves and dirt,
in the rubbish discarded on the streets. 
This is what we seem to be fascinated by, 
only daring to lift our heads when someone points out how beautiful the sunset is, 
or a bird, or rarely, 
occasionally, 
something above their normal eyeline.
There could be entire goddamn cities on rooftops and no-one would notice. 

- Cameron Krokatsis 

I remember this poem when I lean over my windowsill and watch passers by. It reminds me to look up once in a while when I'm strolling through an empty street. The other day a little girl in a blue school uniform with dark red hair, was sitting by the window gazing out at the empty street with a melancholy stare. What was going on in her mind was a mystery to me but the image the mystery created was beautiful. 

Time to get out of my head and check what's next on my to-do-list, deep breath!


 Recipe of the day: Fairy Cakes

http://www.bbc.co.uk/food/recipes/fairycakes_93711