Christmas Crunch Time

Meoww, champapi <3

Another day is dawning as we glide over a patchwork quilt of dark olive and mustard yellow land; the colour scheme now shifting to dark ocean blues as though a paintbrush was slowly waking a piece of art out of its deep sleep. I take a swig of the last few drops of my 4th delectable cup of aeroplane coffee and lean back against the rigid headrest to reflect upon the manic week just passed. My body clock is completely out of whack, minutes and hours merge, days have been skipped and nights forgotten. The tell tale sign was when I was handed back a form I'd just signed at the airport that I'd wrongly dated '8/12/2014', it took me a good few minutes to realise what the issue was... a pretty representational result of the last 4 months of madness. The deep rumbles of the engine begin to stir stagnant memories back to life into a stream of incoherent movie clips. The first scene to pop up is accompanied by the soundtrack of a new favourite (https://soundcloud.com/mono-massive/sunday-jazz-party) played at our pretentiously suave house party that was so Young & Fuller Sol as everyone leisurely swayed past each other in long dresses and suits, champagne flutes in hand.

Finally
making it out of Butlins
after The House of Fun Weekender :)

Madrid <3

More Bristol nights followed, meeting crazy captains that manned all sort of vessels along the way and then the madness moved to Butlins for a weekend as I stayed with the skariest crew in a House of Fun, finding my inner groupie somewhere on the way.. (https://www.youtube.com/watchv=sTZxeiydcUk)
And then one last cheeky adventure to warmer weather, for a whirlwind weekend in the sexiest basement of Madrid with my girls and some gorgeous company, listening to tunes and living life nocturnally for a few days, before returning to grey skies and a winter wonderland :) (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4k6gcbgUvM4). 

Madrid 4 days later...

Skating at winter wonderland 

Academia's supposedly been going on simultaneously, I’ve slowly settled into my last year of uni, delving into dreams with my new passion for psychoanalysis, questioning my sanity during our consciousness course and slowing down the rat race with a new yoga class, that I get to teach once a week to a few gentle souls. It's been a heart warming few months of the usual highs and lows as the 3 year mark hits and grants with it a sense of comfort and a funny feeling of home…

The seatbelt sign's on and the energy in the MH003 cabin is getting uneasy... a similar sensation to the rumbles of discomfort that's brewing in many bellies as the headlines maintain their reign of terror: another attack, tighter immigration laws, more war. Watching the incredible response on social media as everyone responds and reacts with statuses, articles and profile pictures, that transition from gay-pride rainbows to French flags; feeling both shocked and amazed at how fast the notifications popped up “15 friends marked safe“ as soon as the Paris bombings occurred. Going to uni that day I felt a worried pang as the cacophony of murmurs suggesting 'World War 3' resonated in the room, at a low tone suited to the subject of conversation... the high shrills of the canteen ladies retained the normality of the situation. The conversations moved on, I ran to my lecture and people continued leisurely sipping on their coffee's & talking about the weather … surrealism at its best.

I went to my first protest to not bomb Syria the other day after conveniently having just had a seminar on crowd psychology. L and I cycled in a dramatic haste through sheets of rain, feeling excited and purposeful as we raced to join the crowd that was blocking off the whole high street in our wage against war (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ztZI2aLQ9Sw). I observed the many splits between groups: the transgressive lot demonstrating their disobedience as they skanked out to D&B playing from their mini-rigs, while another group chanted “1,2,3,4 WE DON’T WANT NO TORI WAR, 5,6,7,8 STOP THE BOMBING STOP THE HATE” waving their signs above the masses.

Someone just opened their window a peek and the sun shot through my eyes, it was like being born for the first time :/ and then to add to that weirdness, I can hear that familiar, cheesy welcome video “Salamat Detang, welcome to Malaysia!" Switch.
Back into Asia-mode, eeek i can feel my inner hippie stirring and swirling and singing dem songs :) (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rynxqdNMry4)! The dark colours that make up my English wardrobe are soon to be stripped and replaced by trippy sarongs and flowery dresses.
My eyes are adjusting to the tropical rain forests that are appearing as we swoop lower;

just as smooth as the air lifts the wings of this huge machine, my heart settles down from the mass of caffeine with not a patch of grey in the sky to be seen.
Palm trees and tinsel time, ho, ho, ho… 
this is the Christmas that I truly know. 

Song of the day: 
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OfJRX-8SXOs

Hosts from Hell

The day is closing in on me as the seasons shift and the temperature drops. Those cold shivers are making their way into my bones and the thickness of my clothing is increasing by the day. Minced pies prematurely line the shelves of supermarkets next to the halloween pumpkins as a little reminder that winter is near.  But despite the difficulty that the cold brings, one does have to appreciate that cosy feeling; being inside, engulfed by warm winter duvets and clouds of pillows, wearing your wooliest socks and watching a good autumn movie (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KaHmg4ulyfE).

LBD and I have moved into our new, sexy refurbished 2 bedroom apartment; a process that has been chaotic and stressful but worth every moment to get the results of a home that we reeally want to spend time in. And ooh my days, how greatly we appreciate living in a comfortable house that doesn't have the lingering smell of fish seeping out underneath mysterious closed doors... Let me rewind a little bit. 

Just as summer slipped by..

So I arrived back in the UK after a long 2 day whirlwind of a journey from Kuala Lumpur to Delhi, through Dubai to London and then finally to Bristol. I watched summer spin off about halfway through the second flight, floating down onto one of the glorious mountain ranges that I gazed at from our tiny portal in the sky. As our lease wasn't due to start for another 10
days (and the number of bags I'd left for my future self to pick up was exceeding my capabilities) I'd organised for us to stay at a convenient Airbnb that was close to uni and our new place. How simple it all seemed.
After a nurturing pit-stop at my grandmas in London, I rode back to Briz with an old friend L, catching up on our extreme summers and listening to some good tunes. I opted to stay at hers for the night, enjoying comfort and company and delaying the move to our 'lovely' new Airbnb. Uni started first thing the next morning and the reality hit couldn't have been more intense. I broke my first sweat running to the catch the bus as I nervously glanced at the time on my dying phone, trying to figure out how late I was going to be and where the hell I was supposed to go. AH! The rat race had begun.

That afternoon, I went to meet our hosts that had just made a free 40 pounds from our lack of appearance the night before. I was shown into our dingy room with its drab curtains and stained carpets. It was like stepping into a really depressing care home set in the 1930's... but there was a sure silver lining when I was told that there was 'fresh' water in the jug (... at least I didn't have to worry about mould in the water?) As I started to unpack my many bags, my phone rings and I hear a friendly and unmistakeable 'Good friend o' mine!' at the other end. My partner in crime LBD had arrived with a beaming smile and a backpack of belongings. I showed him into the house and my nose again crumpled at the strange odour of damp fish... the hosts J & E were standing under the door frame in the confined, dark hallway. LBD stood, polite and eager as ever with his hands clasped in prayer position introducing himself. We chatted about the small things in life until we accidentally hit a sore spot. Detecting the foreign accents of our hosts, LBD asked innocently where they were from, creating quite the unexpected reaction. "Jewish" E muttered, while J began hysterically repeating "No! No! No! We do not talk about that!". We apologised and the energy of the hallway became tense, the conversation quickly moved on to practicalities. We'd realised a few days before arriving that the kitchen was unfortunately not one of the public areas of the house listed online for guests but we'd been offered hot meals for 5 pounds each... The offer was quickly retracted following this dip in conversation, instead it was suggested that if we were on a budget, we hopped on the lunch offer at the local supermarket that was available around the corner until 6pm. As much as the thought of stale egg and cress sandwiches thrilled me, I settled for a ready-made soup from Co'op. The host E and I ran into a spat when I stepped back into the gloomy hallway and asked if there was a microwave available, she responded defensively, revealing her phobia of microwaves and repeating that we were not allowed access to the kitchen. Oh dear...

LBD and I sat on our beds, hoping that the negative vibes would disperse and not foreshadow a difficult 10 days. Host J came up to our room and knocked on the door holding a saucepan and offering to heat up my soup as a one off favour. He stood lurking in the shadows of the doorway, eerily eyeing LBD through the slim crack of light... I thanked him, passed over my soup and politely turned down the offer to watch a movie downstairs. We danced to the silence of our eerie room, wondering what all the other guests were doing and eventually dozed off in the comfort of our damp beds. 

We followed a strict routine. The noise curfew was 10pm and there was a sign in the shower reminding us to only be a few minutes. Breakfast was between 8-10am and for 20 pounds/night we received an exciting assortment of 3 pieces of bread and a choice of spreads that got recycled daily. The first breakfast that we made on time was on day 3 and our bread was going stale from oxidisation having been left in a sandwich bag since we'd arrived, mm. I swigged some instant coffee and ran to catch the bus to work, late again. The week was wavy; rajasic moments of mania, seeing old friends, getting back into daily struggles and living in-between houses to avoid our situation... The energy would then drop into a tamasic lethargy, burnt out from the the race. 

Escapes to the park

On the third day, the uncomfortable environment of the Airbnb took its toll, so we decided the money wasn't worth it and tried to cancel our booking. The policy was a 50% return unless the hosts were happy to refund it all. I crossed my fingers, took a deep breath and called them up with a cheery tone. It didn't take long to realise that if we left now, we weren't going to get our money back for the next 7 days. J responded aggressively, shocked that I'd even consider breaking the policy and promising to report Airbnb for their lack of professionalism. Suddenly his tone changed, "we'd be happy to have you". I pictured a cheshire cat looking at me with a wide sarcastic grin... oh the superficiality that can exist in hospitality "Oh we'd be thrilled to stay."
The 10 days finally came to a close and the story reached its climax. It was 8.30am and check-out was at 10, we were well prepared having been warned we were not to out-stay our 'welcome'. Our bags were packed and ready to go into the garage where we were to collect them at 7pm exactly. I'd even managed to fit in a spot of yoga on the smelly, stained carpet that I was growing so fond of, the fishy odour had almost started reminding me of home... and then it all kicked off.
I had 5 minutes to make a piece of toast, gulp a cup of coffee and return my key before the tight schedule of the move-in day began. My partner in crime hadn't returned the night before and had misplaced his key (that he later found). This sent E into hysterics and I was quickly launched out of my satvic state with a rapid pulse as I desperately tried to ring LBD. With one hand I buttered my toast and with the other I held my phone, attempting to shout over the rising noise in the room. Their remarks had become personal attacks, from what 'pigs' we were (leaving 4 mugs in our room) to how hilarious it was that I did Yoga. Hospitable host #2 soon joined in "Who do you think you are, asking us where we are from, you are racist!" 1 minute left before I had to get the bus.

MOVING HOUSE!

LBD agreed to arrive before check-out to discuss the key-issue in person. I put the phone into my pocket, handed them my key and began walking away from E that was red with rage and asking to be taken to the health clinic. I got halfway down the street before I hear "NO! Come back here!" She didn't want our stuff in her garage anymore so began to open the door, threatening to leave it all outside. "We are going to report you to the police, the health centre and your university for racial hate crimes." That's when my body started to shake... the thought of our macbooks, passports and money sitting on the street with nowhere to put them and having to deal with false accusations of racism on top of collecting a house of furniture and moving in. AHHHH.
Needless to say, they had nothing to report. I did not go back at 7pm that night, so LBD and our mate T experienced the last of the love. They returned having experienced another wave of insults and some insight into their mysterious ways (when they revealed having had their car keyed a few times...) Our report on the matter was taken down from Airbnb as it did not follow regulations, so E & J will continue to exist according to their profile as 'open-minded, fun and sporty individuals'; but for anyone looking for a temporary home, I'd suggest looking beyond the devil horns of 32 Filton Grove. 

Song of the Day: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rjFaenf1T-Y

The year Santa wore speedos..

Another beautiful sunset

I sit sniffling, with my cold at a climax and my chest loosening slightly after my first asthma attack in a long time, the local doc (that resembles a 15 year old) has prescribed me various pills for the next 4 days that I hope will soon heal me – do you find that when you stop moving so fast, or settle into holiday mode, everything seems to catch up with you and your body begins the much needed healing process you haven’t allowed it to have… but to be honest there’s more in the world to complain about, especially given the breath-taking view from above my laptop screen, it’s almost enough to make one forget what illness means.

Famalam :) (Excuse J's finger..)

I’m sitting in a beach cabana at our sweet guesthouse 'Sunset Gecko', surrounded by ‘The Ring of Fire’ – a surreal geological formation containing most of the worlds volcano's that arise as dark shadowy mountains at certain times of the day – easily mistaken for distant thunderclouds.
Today, the sky is slightly paler than the sea and a few white blobs are scattered around in random patches. The sharp, streamline clouds are a dark aqua and clumsily cut across the big fluffy giants that humour the afternoon. The sea is perfectly calm with a million visible ripples, as though someone from distant lands had thrown a rock into the water and the Gilli seas received the subtle aftershocks, that dissipate in soothing sounds as the waves lap the coral smothered sands. 

A moment of presence in Langkawi

You’d never believe that beneath the surface lies an underwater garden alive with the most tropical beauties – on my first venture into the deep, I spotted a huge turtle and spent the next hour and a half following it along, sneaking the odd stroke as excited tingles moved in waves through my body. I felt its slimy algae shell and caressed the large dent in its side, probably a result of a boat accident or shark at some point in its long life. My desire to be a mermaid felt real for a little while as we glided along together and I just admired its beauty, joined by J, mum or dad in sporadic intervals. 

Our xmas decorations on our balcony

Assuming we were on the same wavelength I held my breath and gently clutched on to the top of it’s shell, anticipating the ride of my life, when it spun around and proceeded to snap at me – my illusion was shattered and the wildness of the sea and its animals jolted me back to the surface of my reality. I floated away and allowed it to continue on with its peaceful existence of munching coral and floating with the current. As I returned to shore, wary of the surrounding boats, the sounds of their engines pulsing in my ears, I saw the odd floating plastic bag suspended in the ocean that had such jellyfish-like qualities… it made me empathise with the unknowing animals, almost experiencing a sense of suffocation as I became aware of my breath becoming more rapid and my body feeling panicked as I imagined the turtle obliviously chomping into one. On my way back to shore I tried to collect as many as possible but it just didn’t feel like enough… 

On a more positive note, It’s Christmas day of 2014 and I am surrounded by my gorgeous family in the Gilli Islands (translated from Bahasa into ‘small islands’) located just off of Lombok, Indonesia.

My brother and I :)

Pretty jewels for Christmas :)

I’m basking in familiarity, it’s easy to forget where your behavioural patterns stem from until you’re surrounded by your roots again – when opening Christmas presents after breakfast and a Lombok Coffee, my grin began to widen; not just because of the material aspect of Christmas, (while beautiful presents are always enjoyed) but because no one knows you like your family. Presents at Christmas, whether small or big, expensive or cheap, are a reflection of the level of thought someone’s put into you and vice versa. Simple things like knowing what colours you love or what your favourite chocolate is are what tick the boxes.

Christmas day presents :)

Ever since I was a little girl, my dad’s always said to me ‘I’d be happy with just a hand made card’ and while I’ve never given him just that, the message of authenticity and sentimentality still rings strong.

I can’t tell you how grateful I feel to be in the warmth again; my last blog post was written during the last wisps of summer as I left Australia in Spring and entered Pre-Autumn England. As friends have commented, these blogs tend to correlate with exotic adventures and holidays, leaving the mundane daily life out of the readers mind though it does still exist, it’s just not so fun to write about. I’ll give the mentionable stuff a chance…

The first frosty
leaves!

A yummy breakfast:
Fresh fig porridge with
raisins, pomegranate, honey
and cinnamon

I moved into a new house in Bristol with lovely new flatmates T, A and D, with whom I’ve bonded over movie nights and red wine, grime and Ben Pearce, fairy lights and spliffs, arguments about the heating or the kitchen and just general student tings…

The Second year of uni began with a roaring start, feeling more comfortable in our shoes and on the grounds of UWE, having graduated from fresher-dome, the content of Psychology kicking up a notch as I received my first ‘first’ in an essay about the dorsal streams in the brain relating to object recognition – la la la, don’t ask… It’s funny reading it now and having only a slight idea what I was talking about… I think that’s one of the highlights of uni though right, discovering your inner intellectual. My Sociology module in Transgression, taught by a stand up comedian whose lectures feature controversial topics such as SnM, Serial Killers, Cults and Satanism – each one being like watching a really good VICE documentary narrated by Russell Peters.

My cycle route :)

I’ve ticked off another box on the hippy trail and have joined the carbon-emission free cyclists – getting to grips with how to work out which gears work best on the hilly terrain of the city (primarily the sweaty uphill route to Uni), developing my incredibly poor road sense, buying all the essential accessories for rainy days and freezing winters (cold, stiff fingers were the most painful lesson) and also appreciating the picturesque country cycle routes. I can’t help but stop and take photo’s occasionally of the colliding clouds at sunset or the first frosty leaves on a 0°morning.

Feeling the love at Future Boogie

Cycling’s definitely been useful for travelling to my clients with the social caring agency I work for. The most difficult of clients who drained a lot of my energy last year is no longer with our agency, after burning down her hostel and having to be relocated somewhere a little further away… :s I now work with other, more manageable clients, customizing our days together depending on their disability and disposition … some days I race down Gloucester road, pushing a hysterically happy H. (who has cerebral palsy) in her wheelchair as we run to catch the bus to browse the German Christmas markets in town. Other days involve supporting C. (who suffers partial paralysis after multiple strokes and various other mental illnesses) for her weekly swim in a luxuriously heated pool at the Marriott. There’s also lovely J, a transgender with a neurological disease who lives in a ridiculously lovely Christian Commune and the list goes on… I can’t say there are many dull moments, or clients for that matter.

One of my clients, A <3

After a days work the last burst of energy gets thrown into Hot Yoga – the name says it all. You arrive and place your special towel on your mat that ends drenched in sweat as you proceed to follow the instructor through a Vinyassa Flow series, in a Sauna. Similar to Bikram Yoga but less monotonous – it’s a very intense, masculine and energetic practise as you indulge in your cyclic breath and wind down from all the stressors of western living. Stepping outside into a cold winters eve and cycling down the backstreets on the ride home is always invigorating.

Fat Freddyyy

So the highlights of the last few months were having my best friend M. move to town, cooking delicious meals, slowing down on the wide eyed clubbing front and spending money on amazing gigs like Fat Freddy’s drop in London with J, Gramatik in Bristol with D, Mr. Scruff, Shak-out, Future Boogie and a few others. Breaks from Bristol to my hippie home in Devon with C and J, lunches with Rastas in Portobello market and attending my cousins launch party for his pizza business in a trendy warehouse in North London (http://www.madeofdough.co.uk/)

But while I tie the knot for now on that spiel (I apologise for the length), I can feel lightness in my heart. The darkness of winter began to dawn on me and SAD definitely played its role. Growing up in Asia where summer’s the only season besides the few months of tropical downpour, lack of sun feels so abnormal – sunbeds have become an occasional guilty pleasure…

Alex Gray

J and I riding Segways
in Langkawi haha

So now, the sun has returned, as have the loves of my life – family have already been mentioned (my 15 year old brother whom I still imagine having to bend over to hug is now almost 6ft tall and growing!) And I have also been reunited with my boyfriend J after months of sustaining a tedious long distance relationship of daily 10 minute Skype calls as I’m falling asleep with red eyes and he’s fresh faced and hopping out of bed at 8am ready to start the day. I can’t explain how connecting on a physical level, just holding hands or really feeling their presence allows for that cold winter barrier to melt again and emotions to pour into one another. Alex Grays painting (Right) describes it perfectly…

Reunion :)

After a lovely but hectic evening in mums boho-chic apartment (as we helped her shut down all her accounts that were being hacked one by one), with her new best friends and comical neighbours, J and I jetted off to Langkawi; the closest Malaysian beach getaway from Kuala Lumpur, where we became travellers again. Bartering with sarong sellers, riding motorbikes up windy hills and eating £1 meals on plastic chairs with fellow sweaty backpackers.

It shames me to admit, despite my efforts, I have lost a few things on this trip… a wad of money, various Christmas presents ladidadida but I’m not going to spend my time dwelling on the negative. One of my new years resolutions is to be more aware of everything – hopefully the necklace that dad got me for Christmas (that contains all of the spiritual and religious protection amulets) will help ward off some of the negative as I work towards developing this goal…

So now, J. is with his family in KL and I am with mine in Indo, In January 2015 we will journey to Bristol together when my exams kick off (meh) but for now, an attitude of gratitude and presence will help evoke the true essence in all of us. Lots of love to all, Merry Christmas and a Happy 2015.

Recipe of the day: Roti Cannai! (Photo's of a pro making it below)

http://www.taste.com.au/recipes/28702/roti+canai 

Airy Fairy I

Wanderer

Dancin with the fairies

It amazes me what an intense effect stress has on the brain, I watch my amazing housemate work through a full-time masters and a half-time job, buzzing along the mood spectrum from calm to hysteria, those of us with slightly less stress showing pretty similar symptoms (if living in a house of girls is a reliable reference point ;) ) … it makes the importance of finding something to calm you down whether it be meditating or monging out to TV so important. Without the balance we’d all end up in asylums or …slow-down camps. The point of the stress rant was what has just happened yet again, on the start of an Easter adventure to Holland to catch up with a few of my favourite girlfriends from high school.

Just about where my head's at

Tralalala

I woke up this morning with a foggy head that soon vanished after a long sesh of yoga, a scattered feat of packing and a run in the spring sunshine. Packing always takes so much longer than anticipated doesn’t it? Doing it the night before is what we’re been taught for so many years but for me, it still hasn’t sunk in.

So of course, I look at the time, hoping it’ll be 2pm (I actually learnt the psychological phrase for this the other day… ‘false hope syndrome’, ha) but of course it’s 3pm instead and as I sit leisurely blow drying my hair, the cortisol levels rapidly rise and I realise I have 30 minutes until the bus leaves and I still wasn’t ready... so trying to get my priorities in check, I put down the hairdryer...

It's never seemed more
appropriate that both our
names begin with J .. for
this holiday at least <3

Chuk mung nam moi B! See
you in Dam B <3

Fast-forward mode began, what a familiar feeling. A taxi it had to be. A gulp of coffee and a regrettable puff of a J and the taxi arrived. Bags in, door shut and finally, feeling somewhat reassured we were on our way, 5 minutes down the main road. Shit. Please don’t tell me I just put my phone down on the kitchen table. 20 minutes left. Arghhhhh. After a brief inner-battle as to how necessary a phone was compared to a new bus ticket to Holland, we turned around. Run in, grab phone, back in the taxi. We arrived at the megabus to London with 10 minutes to spare; I check in and sit down. Realising I’ve put my laptop under the bus … um a 3 hour bus ride isn’t going to entertain itself. Gawwwd. The bus driver mutters under his breath and lets me climb into the luggage compartment and start rummaging while he eyes me suspiciously. I manage to awkwardly pull out my laptop bag, lying on everyone else's bags in the process and rolling onto the pavement next to the driver who was tapping his foot and shaking his head, making sure the items in my hand had actually come out of my bag. There's not much trust left in the world is there... but then again, after just watching 'the pursuit of happiness' and seeing the peace and love looking hippie run away with Will Smiths scanning machine, I can understand the association :p. I sheepishly walked back onto the bus, straightening out my clothes to then receive a call from the taxi driver notifying me that I had left my only warm jacket in the taxi. Eeek. As a lovely gesture, he was going to come back to

From Laos to Amsterdam -
Seeing these travellers soooon

A long awaited reunion
with these 2 beauts <3

return it to me. So I get back out of the bus, repeating ‘thank you’ in my head every time a late-comer walked up to the bus driver with their reservation numbers. Oh my god pleeease hurry up!! I stood, biting my fingers nervously with a foggy head, my inner-clock getting louder and louder as the minutes ticked on. The taxi driver arrives, I breathe a sigh of relief, run to grab my jacket, thank him and then scramble onto the bus. The engine finally starts. Ahh J we’re about to leave. The engine stops… I could hear the bus driver storming back onto the bus. “Who’s lost a black wallet?”. I laughed in my head… how bad would that be. He comes up to the 2^ndfloor and what do I recognise in his hand but my.black.wallet containing my passport, bank cards, bus tickets and money.

So now I sit on the bus that’s finally moving, cringing behind my seat and feeling successful at having ticked every box on the ‘what not to do when you start travelling’ list. Let’s hope the rest of the holiday gets better from here… :p

17 hours later at a (real) coffee shop
... AMSTERDAM

Recipe of the day: Easter egg fairy cakes
http://allrecipes.co.uk/recipe/7083/easter-fairy-cakes.aspx