Stuck in the Mud

Like the Essaouira seagulls that hover in the night sky above the sea I am seemingly still; surrounded by sand dunes and a watercolour sky I’m hovering in a Moroccan dream. Today I woke up out of a 2-week mental trap; being ill calmed my body down but as my energy began to rise up again, my mind stayed down. I was locked into the routine of doing nothing. The idea of exercise, getting in the sea or seeing people felt draining and the thought of lying in the sun and eating food, a far better option. I felt the lack of movement in my body begin to slow down my mind and my inner critic began to raise its voice. I was planning the next place I needed to be: a healing retreat, a house by the sea or in the countryside maybe? Anywhere else. Escapism is a funny thing; the more I travel the more I learn that no matter how far you go you can never escape your mind. Those old patterns that we all carry around and sometimes try to run away from always rear their heads eventually. So I indulged in this self-pity for a time – finding new ways to excuse my lack of movement and eating my feelings.
And then yesterday I broke the loop; my alarm rang at 8.30am for the yoga class I was expecting to teach, the first morning class I’d had in a while. My mind was half awake and hazy on 5 hours sleep after D’s birthday sesh the night before; my eyes were tired but my body was burning for action so I got up and walked to the riad where I was teaching. As I reached the door I looked at my phone and my client had sent me a message, cancelling last minute; instead of listening to my mind and sinking back into bed I walked to the beach, dropped my bag off at my surf school and ran. I ran away from the feeling that had me stuck in my muddled mind but it remained with me all the way. I’d look at my incredible surroundings – the motionless sea to my right and the untouched sand dunes to my left. I felt like I was running along the lines of an unseen painting leaving my fading trace behind me.
But despite its beauty the anger in my mind took me away from that scene; for an hour I played a mental game of trying to see how long I could remain concentrated on my surroundings without engaging in another negative thought - how long I could remain present for. I’d last seconds before my mind would loop on the muddled mess I had created.

As I ran passed the simple fishing hits on the side of the dunes my mind began to clear. I was noticing the ridges in the sand now and the abstract stones beneath my feet with their unique patterns - a Moroccan mosaic in the sand. I had been setting goals for myself as I went like ‘run until you get to the end of the bay’ and then I’d reach ‘the end’ and look ahead at the infinite stretch of coast that wound into the mist – an endless task. My feet ached and I suddenly felt thirsty, 1.5 hours away from the surf school with no water. Whatever I was running from had passed and there was no flag at the end of the race. I stopped and stretched out – sitting cross-legged in the middle of a deserted beach with flat sand and scattered seagulls stretched as far as the eye could see. I closed my eyes, turned inwards and breathed. I’d woken up my dormant mind.
The run back felt longer than expected and the next morning my legs were not happy; but they’re no longer stuck in the mud and my mind seems to have found its escape. So now having found my balance I hover like the seagulls as though held by strings, a puppet to the wind.

A Summer Song

The sun is shining, the breeze is fresh and the background symphony is a combination of skylark, goldfinch and magpie calls, broken up by the odd splash of a Pollock’s tale in the estuary. The sounds of summer in the Devonshire countryside… lush. How liberating it is for the mind to be free of the burdens of city life and its hard, dense energy.

In Psychology, there’s a term ‘sensory adaptation’ that describes a common, unconscious behaviour that we use to blend into our environment… you know when you walk into a room with an overwhelming smell and it dominates your attention for a while, until your senses quickly adapt and your attention moves elsewhere… my point being that with its constant sirens, flashing lights and pungent smells, I think city living massively desensitises us.

In one way, it’s probably necessary; creating a coat of sensory armour to shield us from the tumultuous tumbles and shin splints inherent to the rat race. But on the other hand, it causes us to lose touch with our feelings, our common-sense(s)… our human nature. Despite our technological advancements and ability to instantaneously ‘connect’, we’ve sadly become so disconnected…

Now, while this may be my comedown epiphany,

RIP Gary

My macro evaluation of society,

Or my mind finally getting the chance to run free…

Whatever the reason,

The beginning of this season,

Has given me the space to see.

Summer time in England is when the true magic happens and for once, I am not jetting off to miss the show.

The wand has been waved

Tunes <3

And all those enslaved,

In grey clouds and monotonous drizzle,

Have been freed to unleash,

Their well-groomed beasts,

As the candy pops, cracks and fizzles…

From Gottwood to Glastonbury and somewhere in-between, I’ve been swept up in a rhythmic wave to dance to the sounds of summer. The disconnection of city life has been thrown to one-side as the crew re-assembles in tents old and new, to dance and laugh and sing; Ay ay me hearty’s I feel it in my soul, I feel that pirate ting up in my soul…

Glastonbury 2016

Like the smooth transitions of a really good mix, the days have merged into one another seamlessly and for the first time in a long time, I’m stopping to process the metamorphosis.

Weeks ago, we flitted and fluttered as forest fairies in the Welsh woodlands to funky, house-filled beats. A wave of the wand, another weekend and whoosh! The times took a tropical turn and we floated for hours passed London’s bridges and towers, feeling somewhat wavy aboard the Captain and Co’s birthday vessel. But rougher seas were in need, so the spell conjured up something greater for us to do…

Boat Party
London, 2016

Gottwood, 2016

We became reckless and wild, like an unsatisfied child, attempting to take over every vessel in site (unless they were in the kids playground area during which all crew members [unless gold], were instructed to come back at 7pm…); we became pirates for the night and exercised our rights to groove to that sexy disco beat (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eBpYgpF1bqQ ).

The fairy dust has finally settled on the windowsill in front of me.

A momentary breather from the mass of blissful confusion,

To ensure it hasn’t been an illusion,

And that the sounds that I’m hearing are real…

Om Namah Shivaya

Because one must not forget,

That in our attempts to re-connect,

We must still keep our feet on the ground.

For it’s too easy to get swept away,

In the tide of worries we try to keep at bay,

And we end up missing the current sound.

The one sound that we call,

The Uni-verse.

Quote of the day: "To be grounded is to be connected to our emotional-electrical currents, to the waves of our needs and images and the rhythms of actions which comprise our physical-psychic processes: the rhythms of the human and natural ground." - Stanley Keleman

Christmas strikes again

Banter on the flight to Lanka,
before the hysterics started...

The ‘Air Asia’ logo looks back at me as we sit waiting for the plane to refuel so that we can jet off to sweet home Sri Lanka, via Male the capital of the Maldives. It’s Boxing Day and no one’s really ‘with it’ just yet. I stumbled in with J at 4am, giving us approximately 3 hours before the shrill piece of cake compared to the UK. Opening your eyes from under a heavy 50tog duvet, the ringing of that annoying alarm you’ve been conditioned to associate with wake-mode and just… darkness. It has to be done fast, like ripping of a plaster, you know the hairs are going to be pulled out regardless, why make the process slower than it needs to be? The alarm rang and it was time to up and go/ moan and deliriously pack my bag that was brimming over with piles of crumpled up clothes – organised mess I like to call it, something a fair few students/ teenagers seem to understand. I wiped the sleepy dust out of my eyes, dad had already given us the wake up call but I knew my alarm would give me another 15 minutes. I could never really understand the concept of being able to ‘chill out’ when you know you only have a few minutes left… I get that bodily sensation of every cell pumping itself up until I can’t take it anymore and my legs swing themselves around until I’m standing vertical on the floor, having transitioned away from peaceful slumber and a comfy bed. Waking up in Asia is a

A lovely catch up at KLCC with H and K <3

A and I <3

I arrived in Malaysia to the warmth and sunshine just over a week ago, how time flies eh? – If I got a pound for every time I said that I’d be a rich girl. Despite the short time, I feel like I’ve covered most bases. Getting back into the humid rush of the tropics, emotions running rampant and jet lag greeting you in waves. Seeing family and being the ‘child’ again after having had complete independence – not having to do all your washing up or share cupboards or fridge space, having your clothes washed for free and family dinners! Clicking with old friends after years of no contact and feeling like you’ve all just returned from a very dense spring break. How do you catch someone up on what’s been happening for the last 2 years of your life? Is it the bad times that stand out, the magical moments, the spiritual awakenings or just the present state of being? I like asking people how they are at the time because that’s all that really matters, of course the experiences and the stories are what got us to this point, but we all have so many and why waste energy dwelling in the past, when it’s the moment you have together that makes another story for the next person. Walking through pavilion with red eyes at midnight, indulging in rich, creamy ice cream, lunch with H & K - 2 old friends from The Overseas School of Colombo/ Sri Lanka who I share a 3 – year catch up with whenever we’re in the same place, shisha time, pool sesh’s, delicious meals out, beer towers, swims, yoga, presents, Malaysian grass and booze.

Christmas morning came around and we cuddled up in dad’s bed to open our stockings, which were hilarious. You know your brother’s reached puberty when he starts pulling out face wash, deo and blemish sticks. I on the other hand got chocolates, lingerie and… a grinder? Love you Santa.

KL crew's first night out :)

The first night I was back I saw J again, after 6 months of long distance, having been through the hardships of longing and lusting we finally got to experience the initial moment of locking eyes, without having to be on Skype. Feeling that familiar, overwhelmed, ecstatic and confused sensation all in one go, do you kiss or hug or talk?! My eyes streamed and heart pounded as we embraced for the first time in too long and just held on as tight as possible for a while, wondering whether it was real or not. The last time we’d seen each other was 6 months ago in that very spot. It felt like the time that had lapsed had been a different slice of life– I’d lived mine in Bristol and he’d lived his in Aus, different people, different experiences and yet here we both were, back at square one, something we understood together again. Do you know the theory that we exist in multiple universes simultaneously as the same person, but in infinite possible situations. Like the butterfly effect, when one tiny thing changes, the rest of the story does too – if every single possibility was to happen at once, our reality now/ perception of what we see is one of those possibilities because of the way the human mind has learned to conceptualise time and space. We think of time as linear and progressive, when in actuality it’s one point in space and that point symbolizes everything that’s happening at once, hence the importance of ‘presence’. We spend so much time planning our future or worrying about our past, but if we died in 2 minutes, none of those thoughts would be significant if we hadn’t taken the time to live those 120 seconds to their fullest – YOLO I believe is the expression? Haha, sorry…

Before I boarded the plane in London, I wondered whether I’d run into anyone. It’s quite cool that as International kids we could be in any airport anywhere in the world and still see someone we recognize or know, standing right next to us. M from Alice Smith was on my flight so we chatted and caught up, the general theme being that going home was something everyone was craving. It’s interesting seeing how everyone’s taking Uni, A lot of people seem to take a while to find their feet, including me. You’re thrust out of this spoon fed, easy going bubble of fun, expat living, cheap food, taxis, free drinks, great clubs, shitty music… to independence, bills, cold weather, reality. Of course that’s slightly cynical and there’s a lot more to it than that, a lot that’s beautiful and life changing and fun. But for the sake of argument, it’s a big shift that involves big emotional turnovers leading to this suffering in the form of disorders, drugs or disease. My heart goes out to all those having a hard time <3

On the other (slightly less depressing) hand, it’s great hearing stories from those that are loving life. R’s living it up in Sweden surrounded by beautiful, blue eyed blondes, C ‘s experiencing her love for Bushduf’s in Aus and H has her head firmly on her shoulders with a great group of friends in Holland. It’s also great being able to give that experience to each other – a drunken night out on Changkat full of laughs and dancing, being 19 and walking into our old hang out spots while you feel the evil eyes of 14 year olds wondering who you are and what you’re doing in their space… as you look back wondering how old they are and remembering the days when we were them. A meal at 3am at Nasi Kandar where the common favorite is roti Cannai and Milo ice, £2 for something that takes 5 minutes top to inhale.

Family at christmas

Last night after a huge Christmas dinner of turkey, duck, roast potatoes & all the trimmings, a stodgy Christmas pudding, apple crumble, minced pies and large glasses of baileys, R and I were planning on finding someone to rub our tummy’s for a bit before we became mobile enough to walk/ go out. We held our food babies and reveled in the satiation of stuffed-ness. You know food comas are a real thing right? As you’re eating your body releases dopamine, a hormone responsible for states of excitement, ecstasy, happiness, that’s followed by the slow release of serotonin and melatonin – the hormones released when one goes to sleep hence why you feel sleepy after a meal. The Spanish have it right with siestas – when I bought that up over summer my cousin suggested that that’s the reason things don’t get done fast enough there contributing to why they’re in such a bad way, economically. I can’t imagine London chilling out enough to stop everything and sleep for a few hours after lunch; you can’t even walk slowly in London without feeling out of place. A nap?! Pshh. If only.

Jack and Jill :)

So with our full bellies, my red drunken face and a Christmas spirit, we took the bus to KLCC and walked over to Changkat to have a couple of happy hour drinks with the upbeat Aussies J and J. Joined later by other friends we moved from one bar to the next, from Sambuca to long islands to beer to cider. We sat in ‘fish n chips’ a bar down the road, with the first man sitting down ironically chowing down a plate of fish and chips – good advertising. J got up to break the seal and came back chucking a live lobster on the table that crawled around frantically as we all stared in amazement at what had just interrupted our conversation. ‘Cannot lah! Cannot!’ the waitress squealed as she looked over our shoulders at the live sea creature, pulling The chef out of the kitchen after a few minutes, to put the little guy back in his tank. Causing more trouble J and J disappeared for a bit to say hi to a few other friends at another nearby bar, Healy Macs. We soon ran into them, ripped Calvin Klein shirt, hyper demeanor and wide eyes at having sprinted away from a bouncer that had obviously woken up on the wrong side of the bed and hurled a few punches before realizing he wasn’t going to get them. We thought we’d get out pronto so off to J’s hotel we drove, clambering up to the rooftop to spin around in awe at the panorama of KL on Christmas night. The orangey glow of city lights added warmth to the scattered skyscrapers. We lit up and exhaled, talk going from small to medium to deep deep down into the depths of the ocean. Enigma codes, fractals, human perception, the creation of math, 3D printers AH brain-ache. I sat hours later on the same side of the table as R facing the fluorescent, empty hallway of lights and sipping on a Milo panas (hot chocolate) just absorbing our flow.

Bright and early on xmas morning

Christmas night <3

Time was ticking, 8 days had already gone by, I still hadn’t packed, showered, been home or hydrated
after our night of drinking, I could almost hear my alarm going off already, ugh get us home! We all hugged tight and said our indefinite goodbyes to each other, getting into a RM10 taxi for my last ride home in however long it would be. It’s a scary thought not knowing what the future holds isn’t it? But at the same time, like the ‘simultaneously infinite existences’ that I mentioned earlier, there are also infinite possibilities of what might happen in our future so we can only really flow with it and see where it takes us. Right now I’m being taken back home to the country I lived in for the longest, to stay in our friends fairytale wooden/ glass house in the rubber plantations, a hippy eco-village for New Year, a dive and surf in backpacker central/ Hikkaduwa and some family/ friend time at good old Galle fort. How I miss it so. Merry Christmas everyone, live up the last few weeks of 2013 before the post-crimbo diets begin ;)

Recipe of the day: Christmas Pud
http://www.deliaonline.com/recipes/cuisine/european/english/traditional-christmas-pudding.html

A blink of summer sun

The girls <3

KL was filled with hazy excitement. It was different this time, 2 different addresses, a boyfriend on the other side of town (instead of across the room) and responsibilities. Dealing with those long awaited insurance forms, university applications, where to live, student loans… but somehow balancing it out with a few crazy nights out; seeing old and new faces, having friends from our travels dropping in and out to have a peek into our ‘other life’.

My boy

I love that initial adrenaline rush that hits you as you rush back into things. Telling the same stories again and again, yet somehow it doesn't get boring as you feed off the vicarious thrill from the other person. Spending time with J and the family, going out for yummy meals and enjoying the luxury of not having to pay for everything. We had a beautiful night with E and co. running around town to catch the last beats before the doors closed. It was frustrating coming back to '3am endings' after the all-night-all-day raves in Koh Phangan.. but that didn't stop it being eventful. We ended up at an unknown house, wondering with wide eyes where the music was. Around little apple speakers we crowded, as we made the springs on the bed bounce to the rhythm of the beat, while wearing our eye masks that were handed out at the Pyjama party earlier. The music flowed from the kitchen to the bunk beds, engulfing those in need of a tune, while all the while curious red eyes peered through the windows at the group that didn't stop moving. The flash of the camera went off, just as the bed collapsed beneath us resulting in a failed attempt at a group photo.. but as the blackness ceased and the party was hanging by a thread, we made our way out the door, in response to the first birds call. A group of invisible bats flew by in front of J's eyes so a taxi was called to his rescue; the rest of us wandered and hid from camera's galore until we found a spot by the pool. The sky got brighter and the day-folk awoke, the city was soon alive. So more taxi's were called after smudged make-up was wiped off and J and I began our days samsara..

That evening J made me his tuna salad -- a definite uni recipe that'll be repeated at the bottom of the page. We turned a movie on at 11pm, but soon after our eyes were shut, not to be opened until late the next day. 

Half the family waiting at the airport

Family lunch in Devon :)

The days following consisted of many things, mainly involving food. I cooked a Chinese meal for S and J, two of my favourite boys, as they watched stand-up comedy on youtube; had a delicious roast dinner with dad as we bonded of a glass or two of vino, and enjoyed the aromatics of a sweet last Indian meal (something that had become somewhat of a tradition over our travels) with both J and I's family, this time the quantity of food was slightly more manageable given that I wasn't wholly responsible for ordering. We raised our glasses to celebrate our return and our future academic decisions.. the sense of relief in both our parents was evident as we talked about uni as opposed to the guest house we were going to run on the beach.  

That evening, plans were up in the air as always, different people, different commitments, spread out all over the beautiful city of high rises and motorways. The pre-drinks turned into all-night drinks as my face became gradually more and more red and the older drunks began leering conveniently over the shoulders of the gorgeous young girls that were friends of their daughters, hm.. 2 other guys joined us that night and we swapped 'Thailand stories'; I slunk back in my chair breathing a sigh of relief and feeling grateful for not having ended up in jail, as their experience sounded horrible. The witching hour struck and the bill was paid, so we all journeyed home. A last scream of joy, a dip into sleep and the alarm was going off, it was time to for me to leave. 

Bartenders

It was a bitter-sweet end. I tiptoed around the bedroom, collecting the last bits and bobs that I needed, still feeling rather intoxicated, and throwing brief glances in J's direction, taking every look I could get before it was over for a while. My emotions had reached their breaking point and my head hung low as I held on to J for the last time this summer, and wept. It was going to be a long time, but like a lot of people have told me 'if the love exists, there's no reason it shouldn't last'. I gave J a last kiss, trying to wipe away the endless tears before the long ride to the airport. But by the time my taxi ride was over and the ever-talkative but lovely Z had dropped me off, my spirits were lifted and I walked into the airport with my head held high, fighting back the tears for the soppy rom-com that was to come on the flight.

This was an all-too familiar feeling. Sterile air, uncomfortable aeroplane seats and a little screen to keep you entertained. 'You came into this world alone and you die alone' is the quote that was running through my head. Co-dependence is so easy in a relationship. It's so easy to get used to the other person always being there to lean on or bounce off of. But once that sudden support system is taken away, whether it be your partner, family or best friend, it throws you off tilt a little, and like a child learning to walk, you have to really make the effort to get up again and again and again, until eventually, you're running.

I watched a silly rom-com on the plane and just let myself fall down, taking as much pleasure in the weightlessness as possible. 'The Godfather' which I'd never watched before (don't worry I've already been given grief for it), was the next in line and the sound of the guns and gushing of blood managed to dry the tears and put a different crease in my brow. Unfortunately it wasn't a direct flight, so we stopped for a few hours in Doha - not a particularly exciting airport. I'd taken the sleeping pill too early so wandered around with my head in a daze, trying to keep my eyes open for long enough to see the departures board. I hopped on the next plane just in time, and my head fell onto my pillow for a 5 hour sleep. The pressure in my ears began to build, so I woke up as we began to descend. I wasn't in the best state to talk, but my neighbour struck up a conversation anyway; He was a 34 year old Malaysian, that loved the UK and what started out as casual small talk turned into a full blown debate on the contrasting values between the East and the West, he was debating the West's case..

The whiskey distillery

A bit of passionate talk always manages to get the wheels rolling again, so no sooner had our debate ended, another conversation began. He was a 22 year old Brit that was sitting on my other side and flying home on his week off of work on an Oil Rig in Malaysia; the insight I got into that job was not particularly deep as it mainly revolved around 'easy work and lots of money' but that was no surprise... he turned out to be a lovely guy, and after the plane had touched down and I'd collected my bags, he offered me a lift into town. I kindly declined but felt a sense of faith in what was to come. I walked into the underground station to take the Heathrow Express to Paddington, feeling the cold gush of wind against my skin. I looked down at my thin, colourful hippie pants that were letting the wisps of wind lick my legs. I shook my head, I wasn't in Asia any more. 
From a tube to a train to a taxi to home I walked back in time, into the room I'd walked in and out of every day for 6 months before travelling began. I saw my best friend and roomie that had waited up for me, tucked under a white duvet with a laptop on her lap and eyes half closed. We squealed and hugged each other before beginning the non-stop chatter that only emerges when your heart's at its happiest. The mind is one incredible powerful tool, allowing you to go in and out of various modes of conciousness and flit from mood to memory to emotion to action. But when your heart has something to express, there should be no denial or fear, trying to interpret it using our logical rationale because the heart isn't rational. When that feeling arises, just see and feel the message it's telling you... like Malcolm Gladwell mentions in 'Blink' -  intuition is everything. Our eyes slowly drooped and we cuddled up next to each other, for my first night in London. 

Target practise in Islay with my lil cuz

Sheep skull, eek!

‘Situational distribution error’ is something I've mentioned before, but just to recap, it’s a psychological term that refers to what westerners tend to use when something goes wrong, they blame the situation as opposed to themselves ‘oh it was the roads fault we crashed..’. I was just about to write about money, and how it has a way of absorbing you, creating the illusion of power and greed (mainly because I'm just pissed off about the prices here). But if you apply the ‘fundamental attribution error’ to the situation... it’s not really the money, it’s more the value we choose to place on it, because at the end of the day, money is just an energy exchange, you get what you pay for. 
Money can be something you obsess about, calculating the cost of everything – which is what I began our travels doing. I planned to keep a tab of everything I bought and after an hour of trying, realized that if that’s what you choose to do, it just distracts from the experience. Obviously you've got to be aware of your spendings or you won’t have any left, but have fun with it. So instead of whining about the price of things here, I'm just going to try and think relatively without becoming obsessed, consumerism doesn't have to become you just because you're surrounded by it. 

Although the prices hadn't changed here, something else had... and it was putting everyone in a beautiful mood. Every year, my dads side of the family rotates who stays in our family cottage in Devon; the rotation is random, as is the weather, but somehow, whether it be luck or fate, our family always manage to get the few days of sunshine, that allow the cottage to shine at its brightest. The sun shined for a lot longer than just a few days though, from the very beginning to this present moment, the rays have continuously heated up the pavement, made the grass grow longer and the smiles widen. White clouds flying across a clear blue sky became the norm, and sun cream littered the shelves of all the local pharmacies. We spent a few days in London, catching up with friends, picnics in the park, bar tending for our parents house-party and then the morning after, when both mum, dad J and myself were on less than 3 hours sleep, we drove up to Devon (the majority of it was spent with our eyes closed and dad trying not to fall asleep at the wheel). The cottage greeted us with its usual familiar walls and furniture, warmth exploding from the Aga as we walked through the kitchen doors. Those 5 days were spectacular. Long walks over cliffs and rocks to our favourite beaches in the area, braving the bone-achingly cold waters for 2 minutes at a time, picnics and J's, fish and chips at the pub, treacle tarts, scones and a trip to town (where J browsed for toys and I for crystals). It all ended far too soon and we were walking back up that steep hill, passed our apple orchard, back to London. 

Street art in Bristol

Sunny days

Gran painting

Beginning a job that you haven't done in a while is always an interesting experience. I downed a coffee and made my way to the national portrait gallery where my company was holding an event. On entering I was greeted by a few old faces and a few more new ones. We caught up, the endorphins buzzing as we ran around with silver trays, serving champagne and canapés in black trousers and white shirts, while sneaking peaks of the beautiful art-work in the room. One painting in particular caught my attention, it was a large canvas that had paintings of Zebras, giraffes and a few words, this huge piece that took up the majority of the wall it was placed on, was outstanding, not for its detail, but for the fact that it looked as though it had been painted, by a 3 year old. Amongst all the detailed, abstract and extraordinary work in that gallery, this one stood out to me, why exactly was it priced at thousands of pounds when a child at nursery could have achieved the same feat during her break-time, and with a bullshit description I'm sure she could've charged the same amount. But I guess that's the big debate of art. What is and what isn't. It reminds me of the documentary on Marla Olmstead, check it out (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CeyM9dG7Uzw)

J caught a crab :)

I legged it home, stuck in rush hour, to a delicious dinner cooked by my cousin E. It's so funny seeing family members get older when you always have a set age in your head of what they are. 'How's university' is never a good starting point when that stage was 5 years ago, but due to time's racing nature, it never feels like that long. We sipped on red wine and ate fresh chicken satay presented in beautiful iceberg lettuce cups and doused with peanut sauce. The accompanying dishes were just as amazing but I that dish was talked about for days after. 

We had a few days in London before journeying up to my uncles place in Islay, Scotland for our family reunion. One of those days was spent beginning my new job as a chugger (charity mugger) holding a bucket to passers-by, trying to keep a smile on my face and remain positive as people walk around you avoiding eye contact and pretending they're on the phone. Others however, like the ex-heroin addict/ alcoholic, do stick around. That day I was confined to 'outside starbucks' in Hampstead, London. A very small space means you don't have much to work with, so getting stuck in a conversation with this man, meant that there wasn't much room to escape. It was a bizaare experience, at one point he began pushing pressure points on my hand to 'release my anxiety' which actually worked, for about 10 minutes.. We then began discussing music as he used to be a musician as well as an acupuncturist (or so he says) I briefly mentioned how I like to sing, much to my regret, he began chanting 'SING FOR ME SING FOR ME' so at a loss I began singing for this man, in the middle of the street, outside Starbucks, in South Hampstead. It was an enlightening moment and my soul felt lifted, people put a few more coins in the bucket and the man sat down, happy and quiet. I thought busking might be the next way to go since it seemed to generate more profits than talking did. The man disappeared for a few hours and then returned. The people that worked inside Starbucks came out and told me they'd call the police if he kept harassing me, but I didn't really see it as harassment, it was more charity work than my bucket was doing so I didn't mind. Soon enough 2 police cars pull up and 6 policemen get out to surround the poor drunkard that just wanted a song. Now the passers-by had something else to distract them as they walked with their pockets jingling, away from the bucket. Don't get me wrong, some people were generous, but the police cars weren't doing me any favours. Another lady stopped by, a 'mentally ill' patient as she described herself, before we began discussing the unnecessary presence of this many policemen, when dealing with such a small situation. One policeman joined in the conversation and didn't seem to understand our viewpoint -- they didn't seem to help much either as after they'd left with him, he returned 2 hours later, with a big grin on his face and another can of beer..

Islay

Tomorrow is when I begin a month of charity work, and I tell you, I now have an immense amount of respect for those that dedicate their lives to charity in the face of such a ruthless world. It lifts your heart when you get a nice reaction or comment or smile, but asking people for something they don't wanna give, is never easy. The other day in the newspapers an article was released about 'where the charity money goes', to the big cats of course, but seeing as fundraising is the most available job in London at the moment, the lectures from the public on why they will not put a penny into the bucket, don't really help the messengers. So before the hard-work and lectures began, we jetted off to Scotland to check out a few sheep and do a bit of family bonding.

Castle park, Bristol

Our first flight to Glasgow was delayed by 3 hours, meaning our connecting flight was long-gone. Uh oh, a night in a b&b in Glasgow with a few pints and grim weather, none of us were particularly looking forward to it. But to our surprise, we were directed over to a different part of Glasgow airport, where we sat in the waiting room, drinking galaxy hot-chocolate in anticipation for our private jet to Islay eeek! Dad's contribution to the Margadales was some delicious cheese that was scoffed with grapes, crackers and wine after each meal every night. But the journey that that the cheese went on, was one that could be smelt by all. Dad sat at the back of the little plane with the cheese that made its presence known. We took off and soon, that wasn't the first thing on our minds as we flew over the beautiful green cliffs and crevices of Scotland. The glistening seas, hundreds of sailing boats and tiny houses spread sporadically around the land. Down, down, down we came until we landed smoothly on the runway next to the two 4-wheel drives that were parked at the end, with an excited uncle and aunt waving their hands in the air. 

The jet we flew to Islay!!?

We hopped into their cars and drove down the loch to rinse off the journey with a beautiful swim in the clear, fresh-water lake. Swarms of white swans could be seen approaching from the other end and white clouds twirled above the green rolling hills surrounding us. We hopped out and headed back to the beautiful house where dinner was served. 

Beers in the park with Adelaide and co.

For the next week we lived in luxury, cherishing every moment before student life began again. Meals of scallops, oysters and lobster, wines, cheeses and truffles. Clean white beds, long healthy walks, swims, jet-skiing, tours of the local Bruichladdich whiskey distillery, bonding time with cousins (and watching the little-uns get drunk for the first time, lmao at the fact that my brother gets Asian Glow too), games of rounders, cricket and table tennis, fishing, sailing, target/dear and rabbit shooting and surprisingly few family feuds. It was a long awaited reunion with the 17+ members of the Fuller family on the wonderful Islay estate. 
On the last day I went for a lone wander, determined not to get lost as I had done the day before. I skipped along the hills, past highland cattle and trout in the water below. Jamming and dancing like an idiot to 'Fat Freddies drop' with no sense of insecurity as the only eyes around were those of the huge cows and beautiful butterflies that flew amongst the ragwort (a weed that's deceivingly pretty but toxic to horses and humans alike). The blue sky stretched out in front of me - how amazing that everyone has the ability to share the same air, sky and beauty - we just have to look up once in a while. 

Painted by Rory McEwan, as he
started dying so did the things he drew

Rory McEwan

The journey back was longer than the first one, We used just about every mode of transport possible in Scotland, the 5-star ferry that came equiped with a casino, tv's, shops and canteens (where the boys managed to fit in a full Scottish breakfast), a car to Glasgow (seeing beautiful old castles woosh by our windows), a plane to london followed by a tube a train and a walk back home. A simple meal of choritzo, cherry tomatoes & scrambled eggs on toast was appreciated after the richness of the last week, and we fell asleep, with the hum of aeroplanes flying overhead. 

We spent J and dad's last days wandering cue gardens (the one park in the world that has every plant and flower imaginable), taking in the beautiful (and appropriate) artwork of the deceased Rory McEwan in his exhibition and eating delicious meals. The fambam have now left and I've began an internship with 'urbanfoodfest', as well as continuing the rather draining chugging, to keep the cash flow steady. I've fallen in love with my future home-town 'Bristol', greeted on my first day by a Rasta in the bear-park and old friends with fumes in the garden. So the sunshine still shines though the temperature has dropped; I manage the odd meal with friends, morning runs and yoga, the dry responsibilities of being over 18 and a bit of fun/ a fried brain after a 4-day bender at 'Wilderness Festival' that will be paid its dues in the next post. Keep reading! ;)

Last night at Wilderness

Recipe of the day: Fresh tuna salad

http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/ina-garten/tuna-salad-recipe/index.html

Through the yellow curtain

Seeing the girls on Khao San!

Thailand has arrived and our 15-day free visa has almost passed its half-way expiry mark. Where does time keep dissapearing off to? Before we started this trip, I had my doubts that we'd last this long given that a free bed, food and home-comforts are just a stone-throw away. But after a few weeks of really getting into the groove, the idea of 'going home' becomes less and less appealing. Given, there were days of feeling sick as a dog, and wanting to be cradled and looked after, but there has to be a few dark days for the sun to shine.

We're in Chiang Mai at the moment, staying at a nice, clean and relatively cheap guesthouse 'JJ's' in the old quarter. Since my last post I left my detox-centre with a clear head and a heavy heart, whisked J out of Siem Reap with a pounding head from the night before, made it through the high-security barricades at immigration, braved Bangkok, survived the craziness of Khao San road, managed a rigorous 3-day trek, bathed elephants, discovered waterfalls, insect zoo's, flower farms, tiger sanctuary's, been chased down dark back-roads of the city with a mad-man and his knife, seen the latest Hollywood hit 'The Great Gatsby', lost our only bank card and got to know this city by day. Let's start from the beginning shall we?

Downwards dog at Hariharilaya

The detox-retreat was everything I wished it would be. Every day there would be a lecture/ a workshop on something fascinating. I won't go into details and spill all the secrets but a few interesting facts are in order. So the first night we had S, the resident magician/ hypnotist perform a show for us, we began sitting excitedly around the table and ended with bulging eyes and gaping mouths. It spurred on most people to take his 5-hour 'body language' workshop, that taught us the psychology behind magic and how we see, what we see. After taking the workshop every action people made was suddenly under scrutiny. Pupils dilating, heads nodding or shaking, the positioning of your hands or the way you stand - once you're aware of it, it adds a whole dimension to what someone's saying. You can tell whether someone's lying without listening to the words, or if someone's trying to intimidate you, flirt with you or manipulate you. It's interesting given that my books 'Brain Rules' by John Medina and 'Blink' by Malcolm Gladwell explore the same concepts - that in the blink of an eye, your unconscious 'intuitive' mind makes decisions about our surroundings before we can even process the thought. Based on the workshop, I will share this; in terms of attraction there are certain signs you can look for before you make your move, just to be sure they want it. Concerning boys, there's only one thing that you really have to look for, if they're staring at you - they want you (obviously under the right circumstances). More unnerving however are the actions you can't control, if the other persons pupils dilate (this applies to both sexes) they're attracted to you - the lighter your eyes, the easier you are to read; your pupils will naturally dilate in response as a sign of flattery, and vise versa.

Ommm

Signs to look for in girls are far more complex but once you know them you'll see them more often (I feel like I'm writing a column for cosmopolitan..). Gestures of submissiveness or vulnerability, like elongating the neck (an evolutionary explanation for this being, if your neck's on display, you're an easy target), fleeting looks, stroking phallic objects (like wine glasses, candles, bottles), biting/ licking your lip (as it's subconsciously what you want the other person to do to you) and many other things that just seem to make sense.

Another fascinating lecture was on The enneagram. A method of measuring your 'personality' type using a wheel with 9 options. Each option has many many layers and many connections to other numbers as we are all ultimately part of the same circle, hence we all share personality traits. Look into it online, some tests are too basic to label you a number, and it usually requires an objective opinion, but if you find out what you are it's amazing how accurate some of the descriptions can be. Here, see if the most basic explanations for each type grabs you and look up whether the description follows suit:

The Enneagram

1= The perfectionist

2= The helper

3= The achiever

4= The individualist

5= The observer

6= The loyalist

7= The adventurer

8= The leader

9= The peacemaker

The enneagram is based on some of the early teachings by Gurdjieff "a great influential spiritual teacher in the mid-20th century". In a way, knowing what type you're 'born into' puts you in a box of 'what and who you are'. But in another way, by understanding what box you're in, allows you to understand and utilize it, the whole goal of the enneagram is to reach the central point, and be centered, a mix of all 9 types.

Another lecture was simply a woman at the centre discussing very openly, her low points in life and her spiritual awakening. In her talk was included a great TedTalks on 'The power of vulnerability' by Brene Brown (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iCvmsMzlF7o).

Tuk Tuking round BKK

Some sessions were more physical, we learnt the basics of Thai massage, awkwardly thrusting and twisting each others bodies and hearing the squeamish crack of joints as they loosened .. After that particular day, we were all pumped up and stretched out, so Chase n Status blared in the yoga hall as we all practiced the work-out that our chiropractor had taught us earlier on how to strengthen our cores.. A sweaty end, a quick shower and a guided visualization meditation with a guide talking you through the steps of a story. Embarrassed to say I fell asleep pronto and woke up with 'well done everyone, dinner time'. It was welcomed with open arms as tummy's grumbled in suspense. The post-dinner angel cards popped up, and a few of us sat in a little circle giving 'tarot readings' and fantasizing about the results we'd found. The last card I pulled on my reading about 'what to do concerning next year' was Enchantment.. spurring on my decision to be another one of the many travelers we've met, to move to Aus, come September. The creator of the cards and The Californian archetype, 'Doreen Virtue PhD' smiled her generic smile from the card box and I wrinkled my brow.. still wandering what the PhD stood for..?

Meditation was, I'd say one of the largest focuses of the center. The importance of containing your energy, given that most of our time is spent exerting it, via using our eyes (our most dominant sense), talking, moving, eating etc. Sitting still and containing that energy, frustrating as it may be, is one of the biggest disciplines that exists. The importance of your hands and posture being imminent in the practice. Hands grow from your brain tissue when you're developing as a fetus hence they have a direct connection to your brain. Open hands allows the energy to flow out, closed hands keeps it inside and touching specific fingers (mudras) stimulates specific energy pathways within your nervous system (nadis), allowing you to activate different parts of the brain. One great meditation was listening to music that correlated with each individual chakra in turn, as you imagined it's colour and it's position in your body. A chakra translates to 'wheel' in sanskrit, and is a bundle of 'major plexuses' or arteries/ veins/ nerves within your body that corrugate in 'balls' - there are 7 that exist from your root to your crown and each is associated with a different colour. The experience was quite profound for many that endured it, while others just enjoyed the psytrancey goa'esque music.
A long day of meditation was our day of silence. Our diet for that day, so as to calm the mind, did not consist of any stimulating foods (like garlic, ginger or chilli). It was interesting to say the least, at times you feel a bit crazy, stuck in your own thoughts for hours on end with only books, yoga and meditation to entertain you. A guy we had breakfast with today put it perfectly 'when all your distractions are taken away and you're only left with a few, it's a profound experiencing seeing what 'greed' humans have in constantly wanting more/ something different', watching it in yourself is interesting..

The Plearning Museum

That day we had a talk on 'problems'. The quote of the day was 'something's only a problem if you make it one'. The example given was, if everyone's wearing a white shirt and only 1 is wearing a black one, where does your attention go to? We tend to notice the things that go wrong in our lives instead of all the things that go right - being mindful of gratitude we were taught, is key. Another way of seeing the white shirts, is focusing less on the impermanent objects around us, or the fleeting 'experience' that made us feel a certain way, but more the permanent space between the objects, or the multiple reasons that lead up to the experience - just something to think about.. The mediation later on was more light-hearted as we were instructed to let loose, waving our arms and 'hoo-hooing' whilst jumping up and down - it ended in fits of giggles and smiley faces.

The rest can be summarized in catalog form, the girls had a session of listening to 'El Sol' and 'Alt-J' whilst weaving dream catchers, we monged out at night to 'Cloud Atlas' - flinching but giggling at the sillhouettes of the rats above the white cloth on the ceiling chasing each other. The mango tree above us continued to drop their mangoes on our tin roof at night and the students of the 'Tantra' workshop shared their saucy tips. A tough work-out sesh lead to painful tummy cramps as I curled up on the floor with two cheeky lizards staring at me curiously from the sink, offering no help whatsoever. The nightlife continued until dawn as the frogs jumped around and the snakes slithered silently along the dusty roads.  And then the motorbike to take me to J was suddenly outside, hugs were exchanged and snacks for the journey were bought. I wondered around the hostel in the heat of Siem Reap, suddenly feeling the familiar stress of city-life again.

Tattoo time!

Our gaze met and a shaggy haired, hungover J ran towards me for a tight squeeze. Tickets were booked and we were whisked off to Bangkok - the rush continuing through the shabby border-town of Poi-Pet and the high security immigration that gave everyone chills after all the stories we'd heard about Thai prisons. We made it across and into our hotel, for $10 each p/n, in the center of the chaos of Khao San road. We had spring rolls to munch on the way, a disappointment as we bit into the red oily grizzle - a change from the fresh vegan food of Hariharilaya..

It was the first time we'd had AC in months, and we took full advantage of it, sleeping soundly under the covers, and waking up disoriented with no idea what time of day it was as the room had no windows and we had no clock. It was midday so we got  dressed and joined the hustle and bustle that Bangkok had to offer. We ended up bumping into many old friends from Otress, the dutch girls taking a photo with the noodle-lady, the English couple from our guesthouse walking past the golden arches and the boys, from J's night out in Siem-Reap browsing hippie pants at a little stall. We found cheaper digs after 'check-out time', making up stupid excuses for having to leave BKK, shuffling back hours later to reception (when our bus was supposed to have left) to collect our forgotten passports .. woops.

The weird rows of foot-massages
all over the street in BKK

Bangkok had it's highlights. 'The Plearning museum' - play/ learning that taught us of Thai culture through interactive games or activities, mango sticky lii down a little hidden road behind 'Wat-pho temple', where a tattoo artist was discovered, and a new tattoo was born on my right wrist, the Sanskrit symbol for 'White Tara' who represents compassion, healing and long life. We watched a ping-pong show, a range of expressions flying across our faces as she drew razor blades, ping-pong balls, UV string and darts out of her vaj.. she opened coca-cola bottles, smoked cigarettes, drew pictures and performed a multitude of other shocking acts, that she'd repeat every half an hour or so. It was amazing to see the skill of these women, but sad to see the boredom and complete lack of joy in their faces. The crowd was interesting to see too, sweet young couples, creepy-looking businessmen that had constant smirks on their faces and groups of girls on tour. One man next to me laughed repeatedly saying 'Oh sugar! Oh sugar!' as Californication played in the background.. that song will never be the same again.. The ping pong balls would occasionally fly onto peoples feet in the front row and their girlfriends/ wives would whip out hand sanitizer and wipe them down shaking their heads.

Giant stick insect!

We wandered around the clubs of Bangkok and returned to our dingy hostel, run by a French tattoo artist - the faint smell of cigarettes hung in the corridor and the broken banister swung from side to side as you held it. The beeps from the bathroom could be heard in jagged rythms as he played a game on his phone while sitting on the toilet, a man lay on the floor outside, passed out and snoring softly.. bet his head didn't feel great in the morning..

The next day we checked out, braised beef noodle soup for breakfast, ice-coffee, booked bus to Chiang Mai and chose to take a break from temples and check out the huge shopping mall 'The Pentagon'. It was funny looking around at the millions of shops and adverts, we could've been in KL - it was so overwhelming as consumerism takes over and you want everything. We ended up going bowling, getting lunch and checking out the book-shop, buying 'Brain Rules', 'Blink' and 'The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying' - all really inspirational. ATM problems followed (surprise surprise), and then a rush with our backpacks, running after a little lady through all the backstreets of Bangkok and to the bus station. We met 2 lovely travelers C and A, and we all settled in as the lady at the front of the bus made it clear that we were to have 'NO BEER/ ALCOHOL onboard!'. She then pressed play on the TV at the front of the bus to the movie 'G.I Joe', and everyone reclined their seats and went to sleep. We were awakened abruptly in Chiang Mai, attempting to hitchhike and avoid the extortionate tuk-tuk fee, ending up getting ripped off on a local bus and dealing with an angry tuk tuk driver at 6am that got lost in translation, expecting double the amount we'd agreed on, and finally checking in to 'JJ's'.

Giant flutterby

We'd had an early start but thought we'd keep the ball rolling. A yummy Italian coffee was well appreciated and we looked around at the city around us. It's all very narrow, divided into grids with the main square surrounded by a moat, overhung with beautiful orange-blossom trees. We rented a bike and headed up to check out all that there was to offer - we were overwhelmed with choices. Passing Tiger sanctuaries, Insect/ crocodile/ snake/ orchid and flower farms we didn't know what to choose. Based on morals and money we checked out the waterfall and the insect zoo. Arriving in the pouring rain, we christened the waterfall as we ran around, completely alone under the pounding water below, that carried the peaceful little stream above it. The insect zoo was interesting, giant cicadas, spiders, scorpions and stick insects scattered all over while the next door lead into a colorful storm of butterflies and flowers. The tiger sanctuary was appalling, watching people pay $10 to take a photo with the tiger, making no meaningful connection with the animal at all, as the workers hit them with sticks to keep them still and sedated. Luckily we still got to catch a glimpse of the beautiful creatures, without paying to support it.



Waterfalls in Chiang Mai



Our next 3 days were spent trekking through bamboo forests, to elephant camps and mountain-villages. We were with another Dutch couple, a lumberjack B (that came in very useful when slipping and sliding on dangerous hills) and gorgeous R. We all started off in the orchid farm before checking out the local market (and noticing how ridiculously clean the food is all kept compared to all the other countries in SEA), munching down breakfast and starting on our difficult trek up to the elephants! It surprised me how R and B managed to chain smoke while we all panted our way through sticks of bamboo, pulling ourselves up through dry leaves, and slipping down steep slopes. Stopping for lunch and sitting on banana leaves, learning how to make fire out of dry bamboo, suck water out of plants, make walking sticks, eat termites, laugh as J almost collided with a giant spider that was positioned right next to his head, get eaten alive by mozzies, blow bubbles from round leaves, shoot darts out of pointy leaves, pick our own bananas and herbs, cut footholds for climbing coconut trees, bathe and ride elephants while the one lazy water buffalo grazed on the grass, cook our own dinner, find mushrooms in elephant shit and catch fireflies when the moon came out (deep breath).

Our tour guide was lovely and very ADD, I suppose you have to be to keep your spirits and energy up for a group all day. Our second day of the trek was all uphill and left everyone completely breathless. We had our 2 guard-dogs (Buster and Ginge) trotting along next to us. We visited various waterfalls on the way, the first one on which we slid down and bathed, while the boys kept busy building their dam. Just as we got out of the water we spotted a long parasite, that are known to swim up cavities in your body and lodge in your intestines - great. After an exhausing day, on our last night we jammed around a fire, laughing as we tried to repeat multi-lingual tongue twisters, with flower fumes curling into the cold night air. We dozed off, covered in blankets, the sound of J's sniffles beginning to grow as the pigs squeeled nearby and the roosters continued to crow..

Our tour guide blowing bubbles out of a leaf :)

Whenever we ate a meal the skinny dogs would all come running, it was sad seeing what starvation does to animals and how instinctual it makes them. But our two buddies that were relatively healthy, trotted along with us till the end. A and I spent our last morning doing yoga together, rudely interrupted by N as we were hurriedly told that we had '10 minutes to eat breakfast and leave!'. So we rushed out of our downwards dog positions, inhaled our food and got our shoes on, only to peek into the kitchen and see N lying on the floor, breathing poppy fumes out of his bamboo pipe - yep, a rush indeed.. We hadn't bought towels, so the blankets became versatile, J's sneezes continuing to grow after a freezing cold night above the clouds. We walked on, away from the village with our bags, passing by the school that the village kids were building themselves. It was sad that a lot of the adults were either druggies or alcoholics who didn't seem to care much about re-vamping their surroundings, but the kids were making an effort at least?

We climbed down to a fairly crowded waterfall, sitting in the cold water and watching a little girl smash around her puppy that was shaking with cold fright, caught in her grasp. We tried to teach her to no avail as her mother smiled on happily watching her torturous daughter and the frightened puppy. We left the scene and made it down to the bottom, hopping on rafts after we were geared up with our helmets and oars. The locals were all sitting by the river having civilized picnics and splashing us playfully as we rushed by. We manouvered our way around other boats as our guide instructed us on what to do, a brown water snake slithered passed to my delight and we managed to make it down to the bamboo rafts unscathed. We floated along more leasurely until the road was in sight and it was time to hop off. The bags under our eyes were darkening and the ride back to the hostel involved no chatter as everyone zoned out to the hum of the traffic into a bumpy dream.

The kids building their w

We loved not having technology or distractions for 3 days, but a treat was in order and 'The Great Gatsby' played by the stunning DeCaprio was on at the cinema; I reminisced about HL English back at school as we withdrew money and headed off to a freezing cold mall. It was only after the movie that we realized the ATM had sucked up our only bank card, and cortisol levels rose as we tried to find someone to take us home and sort out the problem. We ended up in a tuk tuk where no one spoke English and we got further away from where we needed to be, so I stormed off, into the night of Chiang Mai, with J letting me get out of my strop and 'prove my sense of direction'. We'd been walking for ages and had gotten nowhere, before J came running past, shoes in hand, shouting 'Run! He has a knife!'. Adrenaline kicked in and we were running towards god-knows what. We escaped the drama on the back of a strangers motorbike, paying double what we would've paid if we'd taken the easy way out. A chilled sesh on the balcony was in order as we met another cool Aussie 'S', and crashed out in bed, falling into a lucid dream until morning came.

Chiang Mai by day is delightful, we discovered sweet hidden bookshops, buying 'Change Your Brain' By Tim Leary and finishing it that day, playing pool, having a munchathon at the local market that was a-light with cheap food everywhere you looked. We attempted to nab a free swim at the Shangri-La, but decided against it as our loose shirts and sruffy shorts gave our game away. We watched 'Iron Man 3' instead, played arcade games, enjoying the free AC and engaged in D&M conversations on our little balcony with an older American guy, our new mate D and S. On our last day the rain fell hard, knocking over all the street signs and blowing the leaves all over the road. We ran for it, exhilarated, back to our hostel; reading the signs and sensing the itch, we booked a bus to Pai, a beautiful town in Northern Thailand that was discovered by chance by a bunch of Hippies - sounds like our kinda place ;)

Recipe of the day: Gai Pad Grapow (Thai Basil chili chicken & rice)

http://thaifood.about.com/od/thaicookingessentials/r/Thai-Basil-Chicken-Stir-Fry-Easy.htm