Turbulent love

Phew! I made it onto the plane this time ;). A tumultuous storm is brewing in my belly as my heart fluctuates between sadness, anxiety and exhaustion; contradictory emotions to reflect this complicated situation. Oh how many times this moment has occurred throughout my life.

Having lived an extremely privileged multicultural existence, one has to develop the ability to adapt quickly to ever-changing environments. It evokes a sense of what yogi’s would refer to as ‘aparigraha’ or non-attachment, which seems an impossible task when investing oneself in new situations and making heartfelt connections inevitably creates attachments. The pangs of letting go, while ‘normal’ are still heart-breaking every time. As I listen to the thoughtful melody of 'Black Sands' (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cTjF2_-bneM), I ask myself if it’s a blessing or a curse to have your loved ones spread out so far? I prefer to favour the former, although in moments like this my decision wavers. For the last 6 years of my life I’ve developed a pattern of ending up in long distance relationships; becoming another ripple in the technological, new-age wave of cyber love.

Brown Hill Creek

J and the family on our Claire Valley wine tour

In some ways, long distance is a blessing: liberating oneself from the trap of co-dependency, living separate lives with space to discover who you both are. Free from the cyclical routine of monotonous nights at home watching episodes of reality TV shows (although sometimes I crave that)… And then after months of doing your own thing, the countdown comes to an end and the drum roll sounds. The time comes to reignite the flame that’s been on hold for months.

The first few days is always the most interesting as you see the other person more objectively; becoming aware of the small quirks that make up their character and noticing how so much time apart really does distort ones memory. The ‘real’ memories soon come flooding back and the comfortable groove sets in. The joy of sharing easeful banter in the same time zone, allowing ones actions to sing in the absence of words with a simple touch or gaze. Growing slightly older each time round and noticing the slight changes in how you communicate together and develop as people… Soon enough, you merge and a routine develops together.

Our trip to Uluru

This time round, I was lucky enough to connect to my many Adeladian loves: yoga seshes, curry nights, hazy days on the hill, wine tours and drunken dances (with family time in-between of course); taking full advantage of my audaciously long summer holiday in the first few sunny days of an Adelaide spring.

Last curry night

My visit this time was supposed to be brief, but old habits die-hard and saying goodbye always comes around too fast. So (on top of a few other reasons) we extended my flights aand then accidentally missed the one I was supposed to get on (eeeeekkk!) but as a result, we got to enjoy a few more unexpected glorious days together. And then just as fast as Abbot lost his position, the 5 alarms we’d set (so as not to miss another flight) were going off all at once and we were saying our last arbitrary words of goodbye to each other. The penny dropped and landed facedown, the flipside of long-distance... That familiar heartache began its slow, dull thud. My hands clenched into fists and my jaw hardened as I swallowed the uncomfortable lump that was working its way up my throat. The unfairness of the routine and the pain of letting go again made the walk to the gate a struggle, as I tried hard to retain my composure and focus on the task of getting on the plane.

As L. and I were discussing the other day, the cheesy line ‘if you love someone you should let them go’ actually holds a great deal of truth…  To truly love is to release them from your illusory grasp and allow it to extend beyond the barriers of ownership and entrapment. In his book ‘The Road Less Travelled’ psychoanalyst M Scott Peck describes love as ‘the nurturing of another’s spiritual growth’; growth requires one to pass through various stages of suffering to release ones old self – a beautifully tragic process to experience with another. But as a good friend of mine says: ‘always count your blessings’, as the bumpy ride never ends... Aha, turbulence just got real and the seatbelt sign is on. My clinical aeroplane meal has formed a hard, congealed layer in front of me :s and I have just about enough time to fit in a soppy rom-com before I arrive home to Malaysia for some family time. Goodbye to one love(s) and hello to another; gawd almighty, I’m gonna have to top that all off with a taste of cheese ;) :(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l51UfkpamiY)

Seas of yellow

Song of the day: 
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_jfHalX5atA

Rocky roads

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nxpTx0VDBKw

The sun was beating down on my reddening face as I watched the colour of sand change hue with each hour. My travels have flown me down under for the second time, to catch the last week or so of a 'Strayan winter. There wasn't much wriggle room in-between narrowly catching my flight from KL and waking up in Adelaide... I'd been through immigration and was walking to collect the last of my luggage as the strings of that familiar purple backpack caught my eye, sitting patiently in cue on the conveyor belt. A sense of relief rushed through me knowing the airline hadn't lost anything and the journey was almost over. My body was in a state of flux: half tamasic/ delerious from the sleeping pill that hadn't yet worn off and yet my tummy, swarming with butterflies was giving me bursts of nervous energy and clammy hands. J was standing at arrivals wearing his rasta beanie with a calm smile in his eyes. I gave him a squeeze and felt my heart release all the pent up tension that inevitably exists when you're apart from your loved one for half a year.

It still amazes me how fast humans are able to adapt to new situations, people and places. M put it perfectly when she wrote about having to 'change her rhythm' when her boyfriend joined her on her travels; and it's just that. Another beat comes in and the rhythm changes but the melody goes on. So we both merged back into our old, familiar rhythm. I opened the passenger door and slid into the seat that I'd comfortably sat in exactly a year ago, noticing the subtle changes that had occurred since then...
We were heading off on a road trip through the centre of Australia all the way to the largest rock in the world, known by the Aboriginals as 'Uluru' and named 'Ayers Rock' after its discovery by the first European William Gosse in 1872 (This disparity between local and western ideals continued to reveal itself as we discovered more about the giant...)

First nights camping

The drive was set to take 16 hours (one way) through the raw Australian outback and my lack of a valid drivers licence, meant that task was set for J. After the first few hours of driving, adaptive instincts kicked in and we started to feel comfortable with the hum of the engine and view of the trippy, infinite road through the windscreen; biding time by listening to G's stack of funky CD's,  reading little excerpts from my heavy book 'The Road Less Travelled' (suitable title) and expressing to each other everything that a Skype conversation cannot. The numerous dead animals on the side of the road also started to take on a grim normality: spangled limbs of kangaroos, wallabies and dingo's that had been splattered by the humungous 55m road trains... I didn't quite realise the ruthless nature of the metal bars on the front of all the monstrous vehicles.
Day merged into night and the sky started to lose its colour; our eye lids were getting heavy and yet our systems were snapping into alert-mode as we drove at 110k/h passing warning signs about wild animals up ahead. The bright headlights searched for movement, the road started to look surreal and just as we'd reached a period of seeing no life, a herd of cattle appear in front of the car. SCREECH of breaks, rush of adrenaline and the mission continued... J fortunately managed to avoid any collisions and we made it to the opal mining town 'Coober Pedy' at about 12.30am, driving down a side road and drowsily setting up our 2 man tent on a patch of barren land. The wind was strong, making the task harder as we repressed our paranoia and tried not to speculate about the headlights of the mysterious car that was parked 100m away; all those horror stories about what happens to backpackers in the outback started to simmer in my mind...
But luck was on our side and the morning sun was soon streaming through the tent walls. We poked our heads out to see where we'd been sleeping; my eyes landed on the opal mines and houses that formed a ring around us, we giggled knowing that we hadn't been in the middle of nowhere all along... back in the car and the drive continued (with many pit stops and Farmers Union ice coffees on the way).

Uluru

By sunset, we'd arrived at our destination; parking up at the viewpoint and joyfully stretching our legs. Never before have I seen so many shades of red: from the hot glow of the setting sun to the surrounding clouds, my gaze continued to fall over the magnificent standing giant Ularu and finally down to the rusty particles of sand in-between my toes. With each click of a tourists camera, the colour scheme of the picturesque scene shifted until all that was left was a luminous full moon that outshone any potential of a starry sky.  

Uluru by night

We pitched our tents at the official campsite on a soft patch of grass that we'd paid an extortionate $40 for (although to grow grass with limited access to natural water in the middle of a desert is pretty extraordinary). Fumbling along with our pots and pans, clearly looking like newbies, we got in with the camping vibes. As we stood together, trying to chop onions with butter knives straight onto the countertop (for lack of a chopping board) we soon realised we were fairly ill- equipped for such an organised event, but we managed nonetheless. There's something about interacting and sleeping in nature that has a very grounding effect - allowing your circadian rhythm (sleep cycle) to merge with that of the sun and experiencing the movement of the elements around you.

Uluru from behind

You'd never know it was winter with the way the desert heated up as soon as the sun came out... we took advantage of the hot showers that were on offer &  made our way to Ularu.
The signs at the site were confusing 'Do not climb on the rock!' or 'Opening hours for climbing are between...'? According to Aboriginal law, it was only the most respected elders that were allowed to climb the rock, so in consideration of the tradition, we stuck to the ground and made our way around the longest path.

Black tears

Emu's

Aboriginal dreamtime stories were written on placards along the way; they were all based on native animals and plants that gave certain shapes on Ularu some significance. Beautiful water markings fell like black tears down its sides next to deep crevices where young men would learn to become hunters by observing their elders through little holes in the rock. Chalk like drawings in the lower caves evoked a sense of timelessness; The Aboriginals are said to have existed for up to 60,000 years, having migrated from Africa through southeast Asia. They developed an intimate understanding of the land on which they lived, learning to survive in harsh conditions ranging from below 0° winter nights to 50° summer days. Walking barefoot around the rock where many ancient traditional ceremonies took place was awe-inspiring; I could barely hold my agitation in at having swarms of flies constantly circling my head but to think they were connected enough to adapt to these dry, arid conditions by passing their wisdom down through story-telling... Amazing.

Underground camping

Opal mines

So we did it! We drove up and down one of the biggest islands on the planet; the equivalent of driving from the bottom to the top of the UK and back! We'd watched sunrise and sunset at the magnificent mound protruding from its completely flat surrounding planes. Back to Coober Pedy for an adventurous night of living like the locals do (underground!) and after another 16 hours past beautiful landscapes, pink lakes and wild dingoes we arrived back where we'd started for a curry night with the crew ;) Life, is alright.

Sunrise

 Song of the day: Rough Rider
 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AFaqJC_tXP8&list=PLl8UdbmjwcGxuhJUxj6Ph0XRV338bFSU3&index=1 — 

The last breath of summer

Sugar

The Austral

Leaving Convo

Oh.my.lord I can finally take a deep breath! Having just boarded the national express coach from London Heathrow to Bristol, I’m on the last leg of the journey to my new home. The last 28 hours have been a plethora of emotional states. Checking into the airport in Adelaide 6KG overweight (in luggage) and having to re-pack all my bags or suffer paying $94 per KG eeek… I grabbed handfuls of heavy clothes and shoes to hand to M and C so as not to hold up the convoy of other friends that were seeing me off… I reckon the trick of minimizing luggage is to do it fast, the longer you think about it the less you want to take out. Lining up to check in all over again and finding my passport with a stressful sigh and a pounding heart for the second time in 20 minutes, I placed my luggage on the weighing belt ‘28Kg’ – damn it, I thought, I could’ve kept 2kg worth of the shoes… J had an evening shift that night so instead I got not only one but NINE of my Australian lovers to say goodbye to. We had a cheeky smoke, a blurry photo and lots of bear hugs before I turned to leave, keeping my mind occupied so as not to totally lose it now I was on my own. For some reason I have a habit of shortening the time a flight usually takes (in my head) and extending the waiting time between flights. So I thought Adelaide – Dubai was 6 hours, when in fact it read ’12 hours to destination’ when I sat down in my aisle seat. Double!? Man… Sleeping pill, cheesy rom com and whoosh – we were away in the warm night sky of Adelaide as the spring flowers began to bloom and the natural confetti of cherry blossom drifted through the streets. I woke up every few hours to try to get into a comfier position, contorting into all sorts of shapes while faintly aware of the smell of vomit from a poor soul a few rows in front of me… I could only imagine what it would’ve been like when smoking was legal on planes, eugh.

Devils Crossroads!

Best dressed <3

Arriving in Dubai to a bustling airport at 5.30am after an 8 hour sleep, I washed up and made my way to the gate that read ‘London Heathrow’, only to find out four hours later that my flight had already left, I was in fact at the wrong gate and to secure a seat on the next flight would be £260 – no English accent, boobs or sob story was enough to sway the fee so I regretfully handed over my debit card and waited at the right gate. Keen as ever to get out of Dubai, I was one of the first on the plane and got talking to an English airhostess that insisted we’d make it to London an hour earlier than scheduled – leaving my mind at rest for the 7 hours ahead. But Murphey’s law, a few people missed the flight etc etc. and we were delayed by 1.45 hours, mann.. So though it was a big grey cloud, the silver lining still exists… arriving safe and sound (despite being warned by our paranoid barista that I may be shot down), ‘National Express’ being babes and not charging me extra for a new coach ticket and the excitement of moving into a new house with new housemates J … but is summer reeeeally over??

Percussions

Ali Baba and Morgan at the house
partyy

To be fair, Uni summer’s are rather ridiculous in length compared to what schools used to be so there isn’t too much to complain about. In my last blog post I was en-route to Malaysia to see the family. What a whirlwind of a week that was, lots of fabulous food, trips down memory lane with childhood videos (laughing at J’s pre-pubescent chipmunk-like voice), pampering sessions, yoga, swimming and Q.T with loved ones. J and J managed to change their flights and come over from Burma a few days early so we scoffed high tea, enjoyed high afternoons and a very intense session of ‘break out’ – a new activity to do in KL! It’s a 45 minute simulated ‘challenge’ in which a group of you are split into teams, handcuffed and lead into little rooms where you’re given roles and abstract challenges/ clues to find each other and the way out. I can’t say I contributed much other than shrieking at every sudden movement and jolting J who was handcuffed to me (I do apologise…) – and that intensity didn’t really wear off into the rest of my last evening in KL, leaving the family in streams of tears it wasn’t long before I heard my name over the loudspeakers in the airport calling for the last passenger on the flight who was holding everyone up – whoops :s! That just about got me into the zone. I love the moto ‘a problem shared is a problem halved’ and definitely reckon that applies to travelling, in my case anyway…

Rather unimpressive tasmanian devils

Happily stoned on eucalyptus

Whaaaat

Emus

I felt a bit like this in my aeroplane seat..

No one's gonna be telling him to grow some balls..

Alpacas

Piggiees

J and his spirit animal

Show bags :)

The Royal Adelaide Show!

Back to Adelaide for the last 2 weeks of J and the crew. Family get-togethers, trips to Cleland national park to gawk at some real Aussie wildlife! Seshes in the backroom, the odd encounter with a nut job and his knife :s, bike rides to Glenelg (the local beach) along the beautiful river torrens passing flocks of pink cockatoos and the odd caveman on the way… We had an escape up to ‘Goolwa’ a seaside town where a lot of Brits strangley happen to reside (suddenly hearing the accent everywhere throws you off tilt a bit). Stepping into Jacks grandparents beach house took you back in time to the 90’s, 70’s, 60’s etc.; adverts for cigarette packs, old toy dolls and comfortably worn furniture. We thrived in our newfound passionate 

Wood cutting contests?

liberation, cooking beautiful meals, taking long walks on the beach and quick dips in the sea (haha sounds a bit like what you’d write under ‘interests’ on a dating website :p). Our last day was spent cleaning the house in a meditative silence that took longer than expected meaning we missed the penguin feeding on Granite Island but sometimes, I find the more activities you try to pack into a holiday can sometimes be unessacary stress and detract from enjoying being on holiday. Since doing Vipassana I can’t help but be far more aware of the distractions that I fill my time with, given, the more you’re ignorant towards it the easier those distractions become again; that reminds me of the scene in the Matrix where Cypher chooses to be plugged in again and utters ‘ignorance is bliss’ as he bites into a juicy steak). 

H and I

Walking to Paradise with my
Kiwi girls

A few days of not having any responsibility to anyone but each other and ourselves meant that at least some of the distractions could be minimized. On our way back past the vineyards in Barossa valley, we stopped to buy some vibrant oranges and continued to wind our way along back to the city… realising halfway that we’d forgotten to turn the water and electricity mains off, set-baack (something we’re learning to become increasingly equanemous to..)

J came to visit S and V in Adelaide on a short flight from KL adding another chunk of love to the team. A mandatory Wednesday night out at sugar and a house party with the theme ‘time warp’ at Wayville with the 3000w strobe light, pro decks and speakers (along with N’ party tricks) sent everyone off into their own extremities. The comby that was parked in the garden acted as a d&m room and the mattress on the grass a perfect trippers escape. Everyone was positively surprised at the lack of noise complaints after the 6am fire works went off with Psy blasting in the background. 

& Massive Indian cook-ups

Yummy fresh lunches

We managed to lift ourselves out of bed around 3pm to find scraggly bits of tin foil, blue face paint and a few passed out boys in the back room, what a successful night. We let the memory of the night stew, to head to Sky view for one last panorama of Adelaide. Lying in the grass and reflecting on the passed few weeks, having the daunting conversation of future plans… We had a relaxed last catch up with J’s dad in town, a sentimental Indian dinner and sauntering arm in arm through Rundle Mall with a midnight blue sky in the background, we made our way to ‘Cocolat’ for dessert that evening. One lonely busker was playing a melancholic harmony that drifted through us for about 20 minutes as we kissed, locked fingers and merged, indulging in the romantic cliché that I wanted to pause and leave as a still frame to linger forever… but anitya, impermanence, all things come to an end.
We’d extended my flight by another week already and it was already down to the last day, a nostalgic Greek brunch at Yia Yia’s house where we’d stayed on the very first night, a Mexican pot-luck lunch at Wayville as we chatted and chilled, with T sitting casually in his pig-suit and sunnies drinking goon :p and then off to the airport… and onto a plane… and somehow, back here.

Goolwa

The ability to have family on the other side of the world is amazing, and hopefully if they tire of the summer heat perhaps England’s appeal will grow but until then, I’ll just have to have a cup of concrete and harden the fuck up ;) Thank you and I love you all.



Mix of the day: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J1Ol6M0d9sg