The smoke that blushed

Street art I found in East London

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

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

East London again

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

.. And again

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

Street art in Neasden

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

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

- Cameron Krokatsis 

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

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


 Recipe of the day: Fairy Cakes

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

Creamfields

2 of the stages before the rain

I think it's fair to say without exagerrating, that the last few days have been the craziest of my life. Spontinaity is a really important part of living, and one that I strive to gain more of, being someone who's OCD is planning and organizing every minute of my time just for that comfortable feeling of knowing what's happening next. But the thing is, when a plan goes wrong, you're either left flustered having to handle an unexpected turn, disappointed that things didn't work out how they should have, or pleasantly surprised with the new outcome. The latter doesn't seem to happen too often, so I tend to end up disappointed or constantly buzzed in a heated attempt to follow my plan through. Spontinaity allows for no future thought or image - change excites humans, it's part of our nature to look for new and exciting things giving us that rush of adrenaline to feed off of. This weekend was like a tropical adrenaline storm, it just kept going with a force that didn't stop.

While the mud was shallow

Running around London day after day was getting tiring, and an email from a friend that I'd met once on a crazy night in KL, offering me an all expenses paid for ticket to 'Creamfields' (the biggest druggy techno-house-trance festival in England) caused my light bulb to ping straight away. I accepted on a whim, sorted out my shifts with the excuse of 'my cousin's last minute weekend wedding in Scotland' and picked up sleeping bags off a friend. Within a few days, a familiar face arrived at the door looking bedraggled after a 12 hour flight from Malaysia. The familiarity of having someone around that had shared the same life as me, was so relieving. It was so nice not feeling alienated or stuck behind a culture barrier. We spent three days in London, cooking, chatting, bunning and food shopping.

Taken by 'Example' during his show :)

The day of the festival finally arrived, we'd planned to have a full nights sleep before our adventure began but being the teenagers that we are, our heads hit the pillow at about 3am, giving us a good long 3 hours of rest before the alarm shrilled. Jumping out of bed in a state of pure dillusion, we showered, changed and grabbed our countless bags, dragging them down the pavement to the tube station at 6.30am. It's funny how easy it is to take a wrong turn when you're tired, and how much it affects your journey -- by the time we got to the station to catch our 7.30am train, it was 11.00am and 3 trains had since passed. In-between buying coffee to keep our eyes open, and conversing with his other two friends who had also missed their train, we managed to figure out that we could catch the next train at 11.30 and still get there on time. Luckily, unlike our friends, we didn't have to pay any extra costs for our mistake - we did however get moved back from first class to third, cramped up with our sleeping bags and boxes of rice-cakes in the corner of 'carriage F' - oh well.

We get to Creamfields, all we see are rolling hills, and hundreds of people with welly's and bags looking bright, colourful and ready for an amazing time. We could already hear the beats of Calvin Harris and David Guetta in the background, only serving to raise the anxiety levels to storm through the queue's and get to where we needed to be. We ran into a few road-blocks on the way to our destination but managed to get around them somehow (I tell you, having boobs in this day and age makes life so much easier). We amazingly got through the police checks, sniffer dogs and ID men without having ID or sober suitcases on us, and we made our way up the muddy path towards the campsites. We were in luxury camping, meaning hot showers, 'nice loos', set-up tents, airbeds and a short walk to the main arena's. It took us an hour to realize none of us had any sense of direction, and 2.5 hours later we had trudged through knee-high mud with our bags, having explored every campsite, arena and food-stall until we finally reached the tangerine fields - luxury camping. We walked passed funky heart shaped huts with wooden floors and beds (1k for a weekend) and sighed. Our 2 bedroom tent wasn't too shabby though, we lit up and lay down after our tedious journey, thankful to have finally arrived, at 6pm.

The crowd <3

We cleaned ourselves up (wet wipes ftw), got into festival gear and set out to join the crowds. The moment the magic kicked in everything went in fast forward, I felt like I was walking on an airport escalator, zooming through crowds and music -- the world spun out of control and the lights and colours carried us to a state of bliss. Nothing can really compare to live music, huge top quality speakers, the buzz of the crowd and the passion for the music, it went on till sunrise through the pouring rain and freezing gales. People's bones were literally aching due to the cold; body heat and dancing was frostbites only alternative.

Above and Beyond

Waking up in the morning all you could hear were mutters of 'is it cancelled? It's flooded. No Dedmau5. Everyone's leaving'. We poked our heads into the ongoing rain to ask what was going on -- sure enough, nature had got its own on technology and the sound equipment was all completely under-water. An intoxicated girl had fallen face-first into the mud and drowned, a man had shot someone in the head with his rifle, and about 20,000 people were all making their way towards the exit doors. Chaos.

Silent disco

Those of us who decided to stay, breathed in the opportunity with a smile. 80% of people leaving meant: Free food, free tents, free beds, sleeping bags, mats and chairs. We managed to move into a huge tent, we each had our own room, bed, (packeted) food supply and dry area - it was heaven. The clouds moved on and the sun came out at the same time as bikini's, shorts and glasses did -- the rest of the day was spent in a blazed wave, lying on mattresses in the sun.
By night, the mood had shifted. The vibe was so intense, this was the night everyone was planning on going wild. Substances, music, people, colours, everything was out in the open. The next few hours were like the first night, times a million. Hundreds of us raving on hills in the middle of nowhere. Everyone's eyes equally wide as we soaked in the atmosphere - we each met about 50 new people, heard a million new stories and tried a million new things. There was nothing to lose, no one cared what they looked like or sounded like, it was all about the love. The sun rose for the last time and we all sat huddled up, holding hands for body-warmth in the biggest tent we could find, still moving to the music. We packed in a half-daze and caught the last bus to the little town of 'Warrington' with a new group of friends we'd met the night before.

The rain took over.

We all walked into civilization together, feeling the cold-hard stares as people awed at our muddy, bedraggled and homeless appearances. From nature to cement, shops, and warmth - it felt so strange. Mothers directed their children away from us and we just stared in awe at how clean everything looked. We soon found heaven; the waitresses at Nando's hurried us in in a motherly manner, taking our bags off and sitting us down at their two biggest tables. We ate in a comfortable silence appreciating the hot food and the warm room.

We sat outside and rolled a  last celebratory joint. It made the realization that we'd missed three trains, again, less-stressful. We eventually sauntered over to the train station - this time, our seats had been degraded from first class to the carriage in which we sat squashed up on the floor with about 15 bags around us. At that point, nothing mattered, and we lay back on whatever was behind us, and fell asleep. London was a trip to return to - Carnival had just finished and it was feathers and glitter galore.. we walked through the craziness and finally got to what we'd been waiting for - a warm shower and a dry bed.

I've had a day to recover and my eyes still can't see straight. Post-festival-blues has hit and I'm wondering why there isn't a legal cure for this? The pharmaceutical industry are focusing on the wrong crowd.. The light at the end of the tunnel is seeing the photo's from the disposables that we bought with us (and magically managed to bring back!) if only life could be one big festival - Thank you Creamfields! You were a trip ;)



Recipe of the day: Daal and rice (This food saved me at the festival - an extortionate price of 5 pounds, but so worth the result)

http://www.indianfoodforever.com/bachelor-cooking/simple-dal.html

Carried by the clock

The last few days have shared a spaced out and dreamy mood that's I've been floating through, managing to get a few waitressing shifts in here and there, in the midst of experiencing living with 2 other guys in the middle of London. So when you live with people, there are a few habits, or quirks that start to matter. Cooking, cleaning, bedtime, routines that everyone's experienced differently having come from different families and cultures with different ways. It's interesting when you combine them - does the result work? Yesterday at lunch time, it didn't. We all 'assigned' ourselves various tasks - I can't recollect what mine was but the majority of it was spent relaxing in the garden on the phone to 'flu-camp' answering mindless questions about whether I was 'healthy' or 'had taken any recreational drugs lately' - Woops. But that's a story for later, the kitchen was a beautiful site. Glasses half full of 'Echo Falls' Rose, dorito packets scattered, cereal bars, chocolate wrappers, egg shells and no milk. If someone fancied a cup of tea - it would require a minute of manual labour or a 30 minute wait for the half broken dishwasher. No cups, cutlery or plates were available and the floor was covered in tobacco and crumbs. It's funny how fast a mess accumulates between a few people, but it can disappear just as fast when everyone gets their gloves on. The mid-work spliffs probably didn't aid motivation or the speed at which we completed the seemingly simple job. We joined the boys in the kitchen at lunch time - one of whom had been in-charge of food. The grossness of it didn't really hit me until I left the house, when you're hungry you'll eat anything. It was an oily pile of mash - what was in the mash you may ask? Frozen chips, fish fingers and chicken breast baked in a vat of oil. I chopped up a bit of lettuce just to delay the oncoming heart attack, and left the house with a nauseous feeling that has lasted until this morning. Besides the current lazy lifestyle, that you have to grab at while it lasts, the majority of our days are usually sunny and well-spent. Empty suitcases upstairs still await packing for our three day festival tomorrow, 'Creamfields' - setting ourselves up for a non-stop techno/house adventure in the woods.

London's an interesting place at the moment, the patriotic Olympic spirit still lingers in the streets, the night-life is slowly wittering out, Wednesday nights in Camden are no longer buzzing, now a more mellow vibe has washed over the city. I feel slightly sympathetic towards the para-olympians actually, the Olympic torch has been put out (yes they may have another one but isn't it slightly degrading?) and the thousands of american, Spanish and French tourists that roamed the streets of London are now dispersing to their corners of the globe. But apparently this is the first time the tickets for the p.o games are all completely sold out so there's a pat on the back. I've had numerous recent discussions regarding what constitutes a 'para-Olympian' and what disabilities are more 'limiting' than others. The athletes are identified by the sport they play not the disability they have, yet isn't it more advantageous to be a deaf runner than a blind one? Where does the line actually end - I'm sure there's a long and boring rule book answering my question that's very closely followed and monitored but when you see it all from an objective standpoint without understanding the fine-print, these questions are bound to arise.

So following on from my earlier sporadic mentioning of 'flu-camp', a concept that had not even entered by realm of thought until 2 weeks ago when the prospect of earning 3 - 4k in 11 days made all my senses heighten. You basically sign up for a clinical trial in which you're a 'human guinea pig' for 11 days. You're given a mild strain of the flu, followed by treatments that 'cure you'. You're placed in a suite with wireless, flat screen TV, playstation and all the other gadgets and techy things you can think of - and fed three meals a day, in isolation. On mention of this to my dad (which I have been constantly reminded wasn't the best idea), he retaliated with a very well thought out argument. Stuck in isolation for 11 days, having to endure a nasty virus, getting random unknown drugs injected into your body, and the potentially awful yet unknown long-term side-effects. So this is my current battle, the money vs. the risks. It's that moment of temptation when it could all go wrong for a bit of money, but if it goes right, you would spend forever looking back at the decision with fond memories and a smile on your face. I think a pro's and con's list is in need.

It's midday, I'm the only one who's made the bold move of getting out of bed, meanwhile we're wasting another beautiful day indoors.. walking into the kitchen is like deja-vu, I'm avoiding that section of the house for the time being, with the slightly doubtful hope that when everyone wakes up our productive juices will start flowing. The plan of action today is move out of this house and leave it 'just as it was left', an image i struggle to visualize; rewarding ourselves with the current 'Damien Hurst' exhibition at the Tate Modern. Some of the features are said to include a room full of thousands of butterflies, a carcass being eaten by flies and various other gruesome but fascinating depictions of nature. The last exhibition I went to at the Tate a few weeks ago was in the new section by the 'tanks'. Various underground rooms have been built to showcase the talents of various Korean, German, Dutch etc. artists that have a flare for the disturbing. I was with a friend when I went to see this, we observed individuals in the queue being pulled out and ordered to sit down in a corner for no apparent reason. We were approached and led out of the long line directly to the exhibition. It was all part of the act, the artists desire to show how workers and labourers desired freedom yet were constantly held down by their 'class' and wealth-status. So much of the art was open to interpretation and some I found leaned further towards the abstract 'could mean anything' type of art but you had to appreciate what the artist was trying to share.

I think breakfast is on the cards - the one safe meal that doesn't require any effort (if there's any milk left that is.)


 Recipe of the day: Rice pudding

http://allrecipes.co.uk/recipe/157/easy-rice-pudding.aspx

Appreciation

South bank funfair

You know those days where time just flies by and you don't really feel like you've accomplished anything? You go from lying in bed, to having breakfast to dawdling around the kitchen or the sitting room. Nothing really gets done and before you know it it's 6pm and the light's dimming. Yesterday was one of those days. But to be fair, we did enjoy it happily blazed sitting in deck chairs under a tree on the patio. A few days earlier I was browsing the web and a pop-up for 'Carnaval del Pueblo' popped up on my screen, a huge latin carnival with authentic musicians, salsa dancing and latino's galore in a big 3 story theatre in Elephant and Castle. We woke up out of our daze, I slapped on a bit of colour and we caught the tube to the carnival. We sat there as the heat swelled in a blur, people were all having conversations around me and I'd catch snippets of each one but not really focus in on anything inparticular. The half an hour rushed by in suit with how time had been running up until that point.

I spot an eye

Elephant and Castle is south london, as we walked up to the theatre I really got a taste of what it entailed - hoods up, bling out, street. It was so raw to be out of the scene of buzzing central london surrounded by non-stop consumerists with, money. We walked into the club, a grimy energy running through us as we spotted the metal detectors preventing any weaponry going down inside. There were about 100 replica's of the hulk storming around with a serious look on their face. 

Projections at the tate

Walking into the club all you could see were hips. Amazing latina dancers on and off stage - the heat hit us in a literal wave and we merged into the energy. Coming up to latin instrumentals and stunning dancers made the tingles spread. When that moment of not caring who's around you or what you're doing and surrendering to the music just makes the most sense? 

Culture shock hit me again when I realized smoking inside wasn't allowed - it was such a change seeing smoke in the room because of the condensation and not because of the countless cigarettes in the room - that's all I've really been used to having grown up clubbing in Asia. Going outside was relieving though, a pause from the movement and a calm-down period without needing to talk or socialize it was literally a breath of fresh air.

Camden town

Camden town

The carnival finished early, giving us the rest of a long Saturday night in London to look forward to. We sped through southbank, stopping for chats along the Thames and lying on multi-coloured beds under huge pop-up projecters showing the classics. We were led to Trafalgar sqaure, and mid-conversation leaning against one of the giant lions, we were approached by a 'rude-boy'. Everyone's talk turned to hushed tones and he asked me for a lighter. Everyone's eyes reflected their state, wide, red, small, normal. He sparked the ight and the conversation burst into flame - 5 minutes later we'd literally heard his whole life story:

. Mum and dad alcoholics

Carnaval del pueblo

. Grew up in Social Care

. Earns money through drugs

. Got stabbed with a screw-driver

. Did a year for atempted murder

. Wants to turn his life around when he's 18

The trio

The thing is, it didn't instill fear in us to talk about this with him, it was more sympathy and pain. He smiled as he spoke through his mouth of half missing teeth. His nervousness evident as he took on and off his hat as he talked and continuously shrugged his hood over his shoulders. The hardest thing to hear was when he told us it was his 15th birthday and he was celebrating by spending his birthday present from his mum (15 pounds) for a cheap bottle of champagne. The prospect of his older brother leaving that life and becoming a business man - wealthy, was like his light at the end of the tunnel "it's so hard to get out of this once you're in it".. Though I couldn't relate to that extent, I listened and gave him the time and attention he needed. The night went on and the mood lulled. We sat spaced out for a meaningless period on a night bus to Kilburn, trying to keep our eyes open for the longest five minutes of our lives. The joint lit just as the sky was brightening and dreams took over.

We spun

It's funny the people you meet at night, the wanderers of London - the more fearful side you see in strangers and they rush to their destination with all alarms at the ready. What I love about it,  is the diversity in class. You start off asking an older rich woman for directions, turn the corner to the Indian man that owns the corner shop. dodging through groups of skinheads with their hoods up and then round a family as they walk towards their car. It's such an eclectic bunch you're a whole different category in yourself. You're no longer that expat, that cultural divide fades as there are too many to afford to have that type of separation..
After non-stop work and various thought-provoking encounters, the clock's struck twelve and flower girl's off to bed, with a whole new appreciation for everything.

 Recipe of the day: Amazing lemon meringue pie 

http://www.bbcgoodfood.com/recipes/3482/ultimate-lemon-meringue-pie

Ranting and raving

My stream of conciousness is about to commence, brace yourselves..

London's quirks - a car covered in grass

Slowing down. I've found when you move to different places you tend to absorb your environment.. you adapt if you will. Different people, trends, weather. It kind of brings out different sides of your personality. I've landed myself in one of those weird limbo situations where everyone's either about to go on holiday or working really hard; it's tough to find a balance with that fresh newfound independence. But ayway, I've temporarily developed this really quiet persona - London's quite a loud and full on city it's quite humbling being constantly confronted by such a strong 'individualist' society. We spent years studying this in psychology, and while I was able to reciprocate all the studies etc. on paper, I didn't truly apply my knowledge to my surroundings, until now. Asia's generally labelled a 'collectivist' society, in which the culture is to work for the benefit of your community, while individualists tend to work for the benefit of themselves/ the individual. This rather selfish mindset is so evident now, everyone paces around with their own agenda here, there's not that lacksidazical sense of community that is so inherantley present in every Asian country i've lived in.  It's interesting people watching, just noticing the little things around you - a man sitting in the corner playing a xylaphone, a group of little girls running around while their mums drink coffee.. waitresses, shopkeepers, business men and women. When you stop to see it instead of being constantly distracted by your non-stop thoughts, it changes your perspective on things.

Caterers digging into irresistible chocolate

Catering has opened my eyes a bit more as well, having to endure all the tiny details of setting up a dinner, the angle of the knives, the different wine glasses, the position of the chairs, every detail has been though of before hundreds of guests swoop into the room. When the celebrities are present it's when the dynamics get interesting. The other night there were two big-shot MBA players invited to a dinner that I was catering for at the British Museum; though i had to strain my neck to offer them canopy's, their personalities shone through their celebrity status and we conversed about how their time in London had been. Other guests however did not have such a polite demeanour, though they were without the sticker of fame they still had the sticker of wealth, that had manifested itself into a snobby attitude with no respect for 'those working below them'. Some people brush you aside with no effort to make eye contact, while others merely shake their heads and pout as they turn away from the calorie infested platter of goods. The main point of my rant is just that by observing the behaviour and attitudes of people around you really allows you to check yourself and appreciate the small details that go into customer satisfaction.

Totally unrelated but I love the madness:
Food art - Joli Lapin

In the background Giles Peterson is playing on itunes.. he's a radio presenter interviewing David Roddigan an old time amazing reggae DJ. Discussions on racial repression, the age of reggae, the best and the worst. It feels like such an achievement to enjoy a buzz and feed your brain something at the same time, 'when you choose to take control and not let it control you.' As a friend G.M would say ;) Speaking of substances - I was sitting on the tube today listening to this man standing next to me, attempting to pass on his worldly knowledge onto a seemingly naive ukranian woman. "You know Yoga? Meditation? Incense? Yeah I do it all.. I take Ketamine and just meditate until it wears off, it's really good for you". I couldn't help but smirk at the convincing tone in his voice, and the total lack of awareness in her face. She nodded passively as he continued his rant about how more people should follow in his footsteps otherwise he'll have to 'wind up a few fingers and tell them to fuck off'. Totally dillusional - but then again aren't most people?

Food art - Joli Lapin

I was asked the other day whether I had many fake friends and I replied no. Acquaintances that put on a smiley face and make meaningless small talk whenever they see you, yes, but everyone has that crowd - it's not possible to have a significant depth of friendship with everyone so it's inevitable that with some, the relationship's remain shallow, and that's ok. But then we began listing the qualities that our friends had in common: Green smokers, intelects, partyers, a sense of culture, it goes on - but one thing that I did pick up on was this concept of 'theories'. I have many friends that come up with 'their own' theories and that ties back to this dillusional world that we all live in. I believe theories are like flashes of awareness or realization, about something that was black and white before and have just gained access to the edge of the colour spectrum. It's almost like getting to the next stage in a Maths lesson, when you finally unlock the box of understanding to trigonometric relationships or any of that insignificant info. You feel a sense of achievement at being able to apply your own knowledge to a real situation. When you can figure something out without being told, it's when you rise above that standard conciousness and access human potential that we don't take enough advantage of. I mean think about it - everyone has a human brain, and we've seen countless examples of 'geniouses', creative minds, inventors, artists, writers etc. who've all utilized theirs to discover another piece of the infinity puzzle. If we all tuned into that, we'd have a crazy world full of crazy, subjective and 'dillusional' ideas. The conversations my friends and I engage in always leave me thinking.

Food art - Joli Lapin

But now the day's winding down. I walked for 40 minutes down a busy street today, in my own bubble listening to the rythms of acid jazz. The clouds were all overlapping and forming scale-like shapes, intertwined with the light blue background. My eyes have been drooping since 6pm due to the miniscule amount of sleep we managed to attain last night. Another little 'did you know' fact for the day - once you've lost sleep you can never get it back, whether you sleep all day, if you've lost sleep at night, when you're natural circadian rythm (biological sleep cycle) is programmed to sleep - recovery isn't actually possible. So i'm planning on giving my body a treat and staying in tonight, TV remote, lighter, tea, blanket - sorted.

 Recipe of the day: Sundried tomato, spinach and feta quiche

http://www.food.com/recipe/spinach-tomato-and-feta-quiche-33454

Close your eyes - what can you see?

Fairy footprints

I sit in the loud silence of the evening. Some may recognize that saying as a paradox but it is no such thing. Having lived in tropical countries most of my life - I've been lulled to sleep by the spinning of fan blades, the buzz of mosquitoes (not the most pleasant sound) or the distant rush and beeps of cars. But here, isolated from civilization and surrounded by water that almost insulates us from sound waves - one can tune into the universal hum of silence. When I was younger I would put my ear to the pillow and hear the sound almost escalating. My imagination would go wild - I could see a whole world of tiny people, (similar to those in 'Horton hears a Who' by Doctor Seuss), the sound emanating from the minute golden foghorns that one could only faintly detect.

It's funny how the concept of imagination is generally associated with children. The idea that as we get older and more wrapped up in our physical worlds, our imagination loses priority. A large part of that does have to do with time. As kids we're free from the list of responsibilities that accompany adults. We have the time and space to roam, and our minds aren't subject to so much influence that's thrust upon us as we grow up. Newspapers, TV, just media in general, then there are books, events, people. Up until the age of about 12 I wouldn't watch the news out of fear. It was like watching a real life horror story, the confrontation with reality was too gory and brutal. But you get eased into it, the death of hundreds of people due to car bombs or warfare begins to seem more normal. Of course empathy remains but as I've said before, when you routinely see the same kind of things on the news, it brings with it a strong sense of normality.

Call me a flower child

When we lived in Sri Lanka during the last few years of the Civil War, I'd receive emails from friends in other countries asking if I was alive after a recent bombing - And that was normal. The news made it look so much more terrifying than the bubble us expats were living in; surrounded by constant parties, beaches and a lot of security guards. Actually there was one day that I remember quite clearly. We were 14- 15 years old, a group of friends and I. We'd bought tickets to a concert that had a few local well known expat bands that had won various music competitions - so you can imagine how excited we were. Everyone was wearing their 'Icarus' shirts and the buzz was getting bigger as the concert went on. 30 minutes into the show, the announcer comes up on stage with the microphone announcing "Hi everyone.. uhm.. there's currently an air raid occurring and the government's instructed for all lights and electricity to be switched off in Colombo to confuse the terrorists". Everyone nervously laughed at the 'joke' that he'd come up with to kick off the intermission. The lights all went out and I looked out the window in the Foyer.. I could see little bright lights shooting into the sky "Fireworks!" I was so excited - someone else screamed back "They're bullets!" Within seconds, thousands of teenagers in Icarus shirts were running into one another tapping furiously at their phones. The phone signal was totally gone and the doors had been padlocked by the guards to ensure none of us were hit outside the building. Everyone clustered together, the heat rose and sweat appeared on everyone's panic-stricken faces. "I love you if this is it", I heard that over and over again. It seemed so unreal, we heard about this on the News! We didn't experience this! It all turned out to be OK, the Tamil Tiger Planes were shot down by the Sinhalese army and the doors were eventually unlocked. Needless to say the concert did not go on, but our lives did.

Red poppy riding solo

Distinguish the grey horizon

So to link these slightly shocking stories to my main point. Imagination is almost 'lessened' because so much of what one would imagine via watching video or computer games, happens in real life so less is left for the imagination to conjure up. Some people do choose to spend their time indulging in their imaginations instead of falling victim to reality. Artists tune into their creative streams and focus them into more mature creations like sculptures, clothes, movies etc. But artists only make up a small percent of the population so what does that say about the rest of us? Imagine if the people that created our surroundings had wild imaginations like Dr. Seuss - our houses would be lop-sided and bright purple, Willy Wonker would have created chocolate rivers and bubble-gum trees, and Yayoi Kusama would have polka dots splattered all over the place.

Monopoly

Back on the road at last

Scone prep.

My brother and I discussed this on our walk today - to our left was the windy sea, due to the overcast, dismal day it reflected the grey sky; sea and sky blended together, separated by merely a line of dark grey horizon. To my right a royal contrast, golden fields of wheat blew in the breeze that created gentle waves of kernels at its surface.
Dad was walking slower to accompany my granny, and my brother and I walked on ahead. The discussion began with the effect video games have on the mind - his argument was there are far more pro's than cons and mine was vice versa. He claims that it aids his imagination, I asked "with violence?" And he began telling me of all the things he saw happening around him at that moment. I chimed in and added my usual whimsical fantasies of fairies and elves running between the straws of wheat. His fantasies always seem to resemble scenes from Lord of The Rings - a slight obsession to put it lightly.

Fresh scones baby!

All fantastical thought was paused as we ran into various forks in the path and had to zone back in while he figured out where we were going. The day dragged on, Smoked Haddock and salad for lunch followed by a big game of monopoly. Board games have to make an appearance on drizzly days. After my 12 year old brother had successfully made us all bankrupt with his ridiculous money-making tactics, I set about making fresh scones. I had the house to myself for a few hours as the others were off 'prawning' in the boat. I stood outside in the brightening sky and inhaled on a familiar friend.. The rest of the day has been slow and light. The scones were delicious with blackberries, clotted cream and jam (with tea of course) and the sausage pie for dinner filled us to the brim.
Time to close my eyes and switch on the imagination button for a few hours.


 Recipe of the day: Sausage pie (Any pastry can be used)
http://www.jusrol.co.uk/recipe.aspx?RecipeId=141

Observation

My brother's band's called 'Lazy Sunday' - coincidence!

For a while it seemed as though we could have easily teleported to a rural Mediterranean country-side town. The weather was too good to be true; I no longer gaze out the window at blue cloudless skies, the English weather has found its niche once again and the grey clouds have returned with vengeance. It hasn't rained yet, but everything feels ominous, the air's heavy and the rain's waiting to fall. I want to almost press the flush button and watch it all pour down - the suspense requires too many layers of clothing. 


This morning we were up bright and early - I love that nature reveals different aspects of itself to you in different conditions. This morning, before the clouds stormed in, the early birds were singing and amazing blue and yellow butterflies were circling outside our window. I felt like I was in a children's fairy tale, I just needed to open the door for the rest of the woodland animals to join in the sing-along. An amazing smell drifted up the stairs as I got out of the shower. Dad was making his indulgent breakfast, porridge with molasses and clotted cream. The scene had suddenly switched to goldilocks and the three bears - well two bears. I stuck to the usual - Dad keeps saying if I eat too much muesli I'll get sick of it, or my body will revolt against it, but that hasn't happened so far so I may as well count my blessings, keep calm and carry on!

Buying muscles

We've seen a fair amount of wild life while we've been here, yesterday a beautiful badger was caught stunned in the middle of a country lane. The most perfect white stripe was situated across it's face, it's bright eyes reflecting the sun. It scrambled back into it's hole at record speed. There's definitely something to be said for the perfection that lies within nature. On my way up the hill I saw a lonesome poppy swaying with the summer breeze. It's delicate petals felt like silk and the sharp crimson stood out against it's black centre. Poppies have such a sexy daredevil-like quality to them. It was almost like a symbol for 'The heart of Darkness', a book we'd spent months analysing - to the point at which it had almost become ingrained into our psyche. 
The landscapes that surround us also continue to blow me away, my eyes open slightly wider when I think of those responsible for cultivating these works of art - local farmers, people that don't gain enough recognition around these parts. Now I'm not religious myself, but the idea that these stunning natural creations (flowers, animals, forests) all have such sophistication and perfection without being sculpted or altered by hand is so humbling - and it's understandable how people attribute this perfection to the concept of 'a god' in creating such beauty, because man-made art that also contains a high degree of perfection, is the only thing we have to compare it to - hence the fact that gods image is so similar to man, is conceivable. 

Vintage ad.

Moving on from religious matters (my book has me hooked), we went into town today to pick up a few bits and pieces, and I noticed something as I walked into shop after shop after shop. About a year ago I watched a documentary made by Morgan Spurlock (the same man that made 'Supersize me' a film I'm sure everyone's familiar with), it was called "The Greatest Movie Ever Sold" and while I don't particularly recommend it for entertainment's sake, it does have some thought provoking insights. The whole documentary is based on the idea of marketing and advertising, how products become successful based on the schemes surrounding them. It even got to the point of being psychological - movie trailers today are based on creating the biggest reaction possible to hook their audience - this can be measured via EEG machines that measure brainwaves and can detect when the frequencies are the most active reflecting various moods like excitement or fear. A bit of a scary idea that we're subconsciously being reeled in to watch movies without really knowing it, but I suppose we subject ourselves to them in the first place..

Vintage ad.

But one other big idea that I took away from the documentary was the advertisement ban that took place in São Paulo - to enable brands to succeed or fail based on their products quality and the preferences of the people, without any influence from advertisements. The satisfaction rates of the population increased dramatically following this ban. And this is exactly what went through my head as we walked into shops confronted by a million different products and prices. It's so much to take in I don't understand how one can filter through it all unless you have a completely clear objective of what you need without being subject to distraction along the way. My friends always joke around with me when we walk through malls saying I need horse-blinders to keep me focused. A few shops and a few-too-many headspins later I gave up; there are always going to be things that we want or can/ can't afford, that's the nature of consumerism and materialsm. And it's hard to end that process, of course I still haven't 'ended that process' living in the society we do today, but it was nice not needing to go home with handfulls of new clothes to add to my suitcase that's already spilling over. Living on a budget means I have to actually think before I buy now aswell, not that I didn't before - but knowing how long it takes to earn $6 as opposed to having it handed to you, does give you another layer of awareness to add to the basket. 

My Gran's arrived so we have more female energy in the house - balanced at last. Pasties and salad for lunch, as we sat wrapped up in shawls and jumpers with stronger gales still approaching. We'll get in a bit of nature later with a nice walk through nearby fields. French bread and fresh muscles for dinner - mm, who can resist a taste of France ;). 


 Recipe of the day: Steamed muscles in white wine served with grilled French bread
http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/bobby-flay/steamed-mussels-with-white-wine-tarragon-shallots-butter-and-grilled-french-bread-recipe/index.html

As I walk and ponder

These views make it worth the walk

Can you imagine the stories you'd hear if trees could talk? Trees that have been alive for hundreds of years, their cellular memory dating back centuries. I think that's why tree-huggers and nature lovers really connect to something, the pent-up energy that's gathered in a solid mass of cells over time is quite humbling.
We carefully made our way over bushes of stinging nettles and purple spikey purple flowers on our walk through the forest this afternoon. When you passed clear patches of brush and softer plants it was relieving. Despite being advised to wear trainers my stubbornness got the better of me and I'd set out in my Ipanema flip flops that were about 2cm thick. Walking through fields full of chopped grass and weeds was painful to say the least. I could feel the spikes and nettles all over my feet but to 'just keep going' as Dory would say, was the only thing I could really do. My brother and I raced ahead, reaching a signpost that lead to three different paths. I was so certain it was the path ahead, and being in a slightly 'dazed' state aided my decision out of sheer laziness to not engage in thought - but soon I realized that recognizing something doesn't necessarily mean you're anywhere near your destination.

Starting off..

I 'recognized' cottages, nooks and crannies for about 20 minutes until I caught a glimpse of a rough Devonshire sea through the trees. Our cottage is situated at the end of an estuary, that leads off from the sea - so I pieced the puzzle together and turned around, to walk back down the hill feeling slightly disheartened. I found my brother wondering towards me with a 'why did I follow you again.' look on his face. 5 minutes later dad was magically driving towards us in the car that we've recently gained a love for. He laughed and shook his head. I bowed mine in defeat - there was no way I was arguing my way out of this one.

And rapidly regressing

The day didn't start off amazingly either. I plucked up the courage to brave the windy seas in our sailing boat with dad. Feeling slightly like a michelin man wrapped up in a swimming costume, a wetsuit, a life-jacked and boating shoes, I trudged my way into the middle of the estuary to 'hold the boat towards the wind'. The sail went up and this job suddenly got a whole lot harder - it flapped uncontrollably banging against the metal pole, not a very gentle experience for ones ears. Whenever the sail caught the wind the boat picked up speed and violently spun left or right, it was like trying to control a manic 4 year old child. That weighed a lot. I lay over the front of the boat holding both ends, trying to manage my fading sense of optimism and hoping that the experience would pick up. 20 minutes after dragging the boat back and forth, I was instructed to step in. As I placed my foot in the centre of the boat the wind caught the sail and it flipped over towards me sending me backwards into the muddy water. Dad's face dropped as his efforts drowned along with the sail. We spent the next 20 minutes trying to drag the heavy four year old back on to the shore, not easy when it's filled to the brim with seaweed and water. To be honest I was slightly relieved that we didn't end up going - the thought of capsizing in the middle of a freezing sea didn't seem too promising.

The magic of shrooms

During the remainder of my day I watched three new and exciting TedTalks - 6 ways mushrooms can save the world (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XI5frPV58tY) - an impressive lecture about the new found-energy generated by mushrooms, their pesticide-properties, their ability to clean sources of water from factory wastes, the list goes on. However listening to science in such intricate detail can either send the brain on a mission to understand it, or on a journey to take refuge in ones own thoughts. I experienced a mixture of the two - and needed a bit of psychology to put things into perspective 'The power of Introverts' (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c0KYU2j0TM4) was the next lecture I indulged in. Leading me to categorize individuals in my life into one of the two: Introverts or extroverts. Introverts being characterized by their preference of being alone to think or engage in individual activities like reading or writing and tending to avoid louder social situations. A number of people came to mind. Whereas extroverts are more 'out there', they crave stimuli and activity, socializing with others and constantly 'doing'.. of course there's a spectrum and these two lie at either end so many people fall at different points. But it lead me to think of what I am? A bit of both? Maybe slightly more towards the extrovert side as I tend to feel cabin-fevered and a bit crazy when I'm left on my own or stuck indoors for too long. I'm sure many others would agree. The lecture reminded me of a principle in the sociocultural aspect of psychology that I've spend the past two years studying. People have an Individual and social self - the need to be alone being just as important as the need to be with others. However within the whole psychological spectrum of what I've studied, I find that there's a lot more importance placed on the idea of socializing and being surrounded by others, to learn off them 'the social learning theory', and to grow into our own selves with our own thoughts via the social, cultural, biological, cognitive etc. aspects that take place around us - requiring us to be extrovert and engage in such measures. 

Introversion

I soon found myself in a usual and familiar situation of stressing out. Wanting to do a million things (read, do yoga, eat breakfast, watch masterchef, watch TedTalks, go on a walk, go to the beach, cook, read other blogs - lalala doesn't the list end?) I came across Carl Honore giving a lecture on 'Slowing down in a world built for speed' (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UhXiHJ8vfuk) exactly the lecture I needed to be given - well most people in the developing world really. One of the most important things I took out of the speeches given at graduation was when our well respected conselor said "Once in a while, turn off everything that has a power button, and just listen." It's so true, so many of the distractions that exist today are comprised of technology. The first thing I do in the morning is check the time on my phone, followed shortly by turning on my laptop. When I'm away from technology I can't help but wonder whether I've missed a call, if i need to get intouch with someone, or watch something that I've missed out on. That's a whole different issue altogether 'FOMO' it's apparently termed, 'Fear Of Missing Out. The tattoo at the back of my neck, and one of the main principles of meditation and yoga, is presence. The idea of slowing down your pace in such a busy and demanding world, to just experience what's going in in that moment without necessarily needing google to do it for you. Again, awareness comes into the equation.

An odd concept

I'm just about to watch Michael Phelps on TV swimming his amazing 400m I.M at the Olympics. Though I'm not the most amazing swimmer I know, having had the experience of being in a competitive swim team and knowing the push towards that goal of touching the wall at the end of a never-ending race; it's nice to be able to connect to something and have a slightly higher degree of understanding for what you're watching... seeing Phelps walking around in his swimmers isn't too painful either - they're at the blocks and the buzzer's about to go, time for another exciting race!


To engage in a bit of brother-sister bonding time we tuned in to our musical side - here's a rough rendition 'You know I'm no good' by a legendary singer to say the least (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hQaJuaJ1YIw)

(We made the most amazing fresh crab, mayo and lemon sandwiches the other day - using freshly baked bread of course.. here's a recipe for another family fave:)


Recipe of the day: Fresh crab linguine 
http://www.bbc.co.uk/food/recipes/crab_linguine_22025