Ibiza begins

Beautiful Ibiza

Life has taken a few new turns and flipped 180° in the last couple of weeks; I went from having quiet days in Devon to silent nights in Islay and then finally flew back to England where the riddim changed again... R and his mates held their first event 'Moonlight' on the rooftop of an abandoned building in the middle of Birmingham; it was pure magic that was created that night amongst friends and family. A day later, as the sparkles were fading from our eyes we boarded a plane to... Ibiza.

And now we're finally settled in our new home! After all the commotion of the last few weeks, I sat still and closed my eyes; the shrill song of crickets permeated my eardrums and the odd interlude of birdsong added a sweet contrast to the harsh, dry morning. It's August now, a notoriously hot month in Ibiza; at 10am, the sun is already beating down on the pine trees and the dust particles from the roads are steadily rising. Our stark white villa and the few others that can be seen scattered around the red, earthy landscape glow like diamonds in a baron land. The turquoise pool in front of me adds to the mirage as do the beautiful tanned boys and girls that are intermittently draped around the poolside in teeny weeny bikini bottoms with bare nipples, it is all pretty surreal; DJ's, clubs, villa's, beaches, blue blue seas, breathtaking skylines and the most stunning selection of people as though each one has been carefully selected for a beach holiday shoot. I marvel at the sights; gorgeous girls parading their clubs logo down the beach to the beats of their resident DJ's, big hunky lads in tiny shorts strutting along Bora Bora beach with their guns blazing, eyes bulging and faces full of glitter; stray rastas blissed out with grins on their faces and celebrity couples sipping on cocktails at 'Cafe del Mar'.

Happy happy days

But aside from the flash and the grime of the party scene, I'm also discovering another side to Ibiza life. One evening, soon after I'd arrived a few of us lay on the rooftop watching the milky way and the vast expanse of stars in the night sky; when all the lights are off in the middle of the country side the view of the sky is so crystal clear. The wise words of Alan Watts dubbed over a spacey backing track sounded through the speakers; the perfect soundtrack as we all lay, humbled by the grandiosity of the universe that engulfed us. With each shooting star I saw, I repeated the affirmation that I'd been meditating on; I trust that I will find a routine that is creative, fun and fulfulling. I went to sleep that night with stars in my eyes.

N's birthday breakfast

The next day I decided to join my housemate L on a run. I wanted to get out of the villa, shake off the session and attempt to understand the geography of our surroundings. 10 of us share this beautiful villa that is situated in a remote spot between two lovely towns, Santa Gertrudis and Sant Matteu in North Ibiza. There is not a lot when it comes to surrounding infrastructure besides a few other villas that only hold aesthetic value. We tied our laces and started off, leaving a trail of dust behind us. We ran along the rows of pine trees that offered some much needed shade from the searing heat of the midday sun. As we curled around the windy roads we passed the idyllic little church that sits gracefully next to the other simple, rustic buildings that make up this pueblito (mini town). There were two little restaurants dotted along the side of the road and outside one in capital letters was written  'YOGA' - an unmistakable sign. I jogged through the dark, wooden door frame, red faced and out of breath to try my luck and potentially land a very convenient teaching gig. The owner listened to L and I blurt out all the Spanish we could think of in an attempt to get me a job. He listened to what we had to say, displaying no sign of amusement and then explained that they did not need any yoga teachers but perhaps they needed a waitress. He told me to return the next day to speak to his wife so I jogged on with their business card in hand, feeling hopeful that something new was on the horizon. 

A beautiful visit from J!

Ibiza famalam

The next day I went to speak to the owners wife... I'd debated going because I was feeling slightly anxious about my Spanish interview skills and had not yet been to sleep after my first all nighter at DC10. But R gave me a pep talk and after a lot of reassuring self-talk I decided to man up, change into some new clothes and walk there to build up some energy, it was only around the corner after all... I lead us down a beautiful road lined with pine trees just like the one we'd been down the other day. But after about 20 minutes we were still walking and there was no little church in sight... another 20 minutes passed and the heat began to do funny things to my brain. I sat down in the middle of the road, like a cross little girl waiting to be given an ice cream and carried the rest of the way. It was too hot to keep going and my confidence regarding my directional skills had veered off at the last bend. R sat down with me, positive as always and we talked it out until I was ready to carry on; we had to get out of the middle of the road at some point. Sweat was dripping down my face and as I stood up my dress stuck to my body, that shower I'd just had felt like it was so long ago now. The dry landscape was losing its romantic appeal as the never ending road wiggled in front of us for miles with no sign of a church. R pulled his phone out and good ol' Google Maps saved the day; I'm all about nature walks but it must be said, technology is bloody great sometimes. 1 hour after leaving the house, we'd arrived at the restaurant 'down the road'... it seemed we had gone down the wrong road to begin with and my directional skills perhaps needed a bit of fine tuning but at least we'd had a nice walk? 

Road breaks

The restaurant Can Cires was sweet; typically Spanish, quaint and rustic. As R and I waited for the owners wife, V to appear, a bright green parrot that was perched on the top of a chair looked at us with its beady red eyes incessantly repeating 'hola, hola, hola'. Bloody hell, what was I doing having a job interview after a session, I covered my head with my hands and took a deep breath. V came over to us and sat down; thankfully, she spoke English so half the pressure was off. I told her my story and she explained her vision. She wanted to bring the community together and create something different with the space but she needed someone to help create it. She showed us the beautiful, new outdoor yoga studio in the back garden with a view of the pine forests; a light breeze blew through and the cry of crickets began. We sat down on a wooden bench and began brainstorming ideas about holding yoga classes, workshops, talks... R mentioned that I loved to cook, the seed was planted and suddenly we were talking logistics of how to host an Indian themed dinner for 30 people... in one weeks time... what!? We left that restaurant 40 minutes later feeling completely baffled and overjoyed. That went better than expected, I thought. A creative opportunity to teach yoga, bring people together and hold creative events!? Yes. Manifestation: the process of giving energy to your dreams and turning them into your reality. It is a beautiful thing. 

As we walked home I felt grateful; the heat didn't matter now, the nerves had gone and the calm was setting in. We walked passed a small opening in the pine trees and I held R's hand and lead him through the gap into a clearing in the forest. The floor was covered with a bouncy layer of dried pine needles. We lay down and looked up through the circle of blue sky above our heads. I could feel the special quality of this island, it is built on crystal rock after all... I get the feeling that it has the effect of amplifying your intentions and I was learning to just be patient and let it happen. I was no longer in the rat race and things flowed at a different pace now, it was OK to slow down. The branches of the trees swayed lightly in the breeze; after being vertical on the tarmac road in the heat of the day, surrendering to gravity brought a real sense of relief. I felt like I was looking down on us lying there in the dappled sunlight, surrounded by pine needles; it was like the closing scene of a movie...

After a while, we stood up and began wondering back. Around the last bend on a stone by the side of the road sat a little, old Spanish lady, Una Abuelita. Her face was worn and full of brown wrinkles from the Spanish sun. She wore a simple, blue dress and a pair of sandals and was sat in the shade with her hands on her knees just observing life. What a beautiful scene, I thought. So simple and symbolic of local life here that functions at its own pace and pays respect to the importance of stillness and rest. It was a nice contrast to the non-stop movement of the parties, the glitz and the glamour. There is so much magic to absorb every moment here. R and I have carefully created our space of stillness within the locomotion and we are now diving head first in to the deep blue waters of this Mediterranean paradise. Over the next few days we began to discover what was beneath the surface as we engaged in our first creative pursuit, a night in India. To get there was a wavy journey to say the least but I'll save that for next time...

Song of the day: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=25KdkTipTJ0 

A final spell in KL

Morning meditations

There is something magical about waking up early in the English countryside. I lay in bed this morning after a weird dream with a lingering image of Robert Carlyle (i.e. Begbie from trainspotting) shouting at me aggressively in his thick Scottish accent with a cup of tea in his hand...  no doubt it was a distorted remnant from the movie last night but it left me feeling slightly bemused. As his voice slowly faded from my consciousness it was replaced by the soothing sound of bird song; mm, I love Devon. I glanced over at my phone to see that it was only 7.20am. Hmm... to sleep or not to sleep? My thumb automatically moved towards the seductive blue 'F' on the screen and my mind soon began to reel with the speed of my newsfeed. F indeed, what a suitable acronym; instant stimulation, brain.activated. I decided not to sleep and instead made the most of the morning with a meditation. It's quite nice when you can finally zone into holiday mode and feel rested enough to actually enjoy an early start...

J's graduation

Dad, J and I officially left Kuala Lumpur 2 weeks ago; my dad's mission at the Red Cross came to an end after what seemed like an eternity, my brother graduated from high school and I completed my internship with the UN. It was a full on 6 months. I moved back to KL after uni with the intention of re-grounding around family and luckily, my unpaid internship was perfectly timed to coincide with moving home. Working with child refugees was seriously tough and the layers of reality that began to unearth themselves initially hit me quite hard; listening to their stories about fleeing genocide, trafficking, rape, abuse and every other form of suffering a child should never have to experience. It was heavy but I hardened up fast to the reality that I was to engage with. I found my release through physical exercise, teaching yoga, jamming with C and sharing the stories with those who would listen. I became part of the ebb and flow of my child protection team and I grew to understand the natural therapeutic method they employed to handle the stress of the work; constantly talking to each other, sharing dark humour and the regular Friday mash up at Kubur, the graveyard bar (yes, it was actually at a graveyard). I also began to truly understand how the pressures of full-time work so easily lead to a culture of alcoholism.

The legend behind the sound

Last day of recording

In a funny turn of events, I also found a release through my alter-ego, Chloe. I managed to land myself a completely unexpected gig as a 'hyperactive, super happy, sugary sweet and absent minded' cartoon poodle named, Chloe. I adapted quite fast to my character that I have a funny feeling was typecast and I found myself speaking in an American accent to emphasise the 'super happy' vibe as I felt the slightly posh, English accent didn't quite cut it. Over 4 months we recorded 4 seasons of the English dubbed 'Bodhi and Friends' that is soon to be released. The cartoon was already a hit in China and the creators commissioned a production of the English version that was to be completed in a very limited time frame without changing the actual animation; therefore, the sound effects mostly consist of infantile Chinese-like squeals, the characters lips are slightly out of synch and the process was completed so fast that I don't even know the actual plot line. It was however, a very entertaining experience during which my childhood fantasies came to life. I am intrigued to see what the final product will be given that my understanding of the plot is based on random scenes like jumping off spaceships or fighting away dystopian cats with my wind power, if they dare threatened to ruin my flower garden...  

Finally making it to C's game

Life was busy but I loved having a routine and a stable base. New friends from abroad blew in like breaths of fresh air and old friends from high school passed through regularly, bringing moments of sweet nostalgia as we reminisced on the glory days and saw how far into adulthood we'd all come. Everyone was on such amazing, diverse paths. It's a beautiful thing, watching your friends succeed. Those 6 months passed like the blink of an eye and before I knew it, I was going to leaving dinners and the movers were packing our life into boxes, again. Mum and I sat on top of T's truck, ferrying the remnants of dad's furniture to her apartment with tears in our eyes. We spent our last few nights in Lanson Place, the serviced apartment that we had stayed in when we'd first moved to Malaysia, 8.5 years ago. 

KL Sunrise from our apartment

Reunion dinners at Suzy's

The change was inevitable and on the whole, we were prepared but J was experiencing the major shift of leaving school. The great upheaval, inherent to the international lifestyle that has you excited for the next step while grieving the loss of your greatest friends, as they disperse to all corners of the globe; the preparatory phase for a life of adaptation. The moving process was interestingly synchronised with the Sagittarius super moon; an energetic time of transformation and putting ideas into action. It couldn't have been more accurate; I was watching it play out all around me and feeling the metamorphosis internally as my long unwanted habits naturally fell away in favour of healthier pursuits. I was growing up and moving on, ready for the next phase of life in London.

We all flew away from the concrete jungle of Kuala Lumpur; mum and T went off to celebrate summer solstice Kundalini style in New Mexico while J, dad and I opted for some good ol' British R&R in the patchwork quilt of the English countryside..

Aaand we're back

Song of the Day: 
Beautiful Escape (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4QLYXPto0w4) 

Discovering an Ancient Future

Mmm, Bali. A tropical, paradise island in Indonesia home to volcanic mountains, coral reefs and green paddies; it is rich with culture, high in spirit and the perfect place to hold a consciousness raising festival. So that's what happened!  We were introduced to The New Earth movement, a consciousness raising initiative run by an eclectic group of individuals that have backgrounds spanning different professions, from tribal leaders to scientists; it brings together ancient wisdom and modern developments to create a conscious future. 

The New Earth, Ancient Futures Festival was the first of its kind; held in the beautiful surroundings of Ubud, Bali. A charismatic and passionate man named Sacha Stone who is one of the main initiators of the movement, hosted the event at his incredible residence. His vision took the form of intricate bamboo structures that were weaved together in different sacred geometric forms. For those that don't know, 'sacred geometry' mimics designs found in nature; the mathematic ratios and proportions of these designs are found in such natural formations as shells, flowers, music, light and the human body to name a few. Ancient cultures have utilised these designs to channel the energy within sacred spaces like the Ancient pyramids of Egypt, medieval cathedrals in Rome or Hindu temples in India. By designing structures in this way it effects the entire dynamic of a room; its circulation, lighting, sound and energy flow. By integrating materials such as copper, it can serve to ground ones energy. The earths surface is naturally charged with electrons that are pushed up into our body to the top of our head causing a potential within our being. As copper is commonly used in devices as an electrical conductor, it can be used to conduct our own electrical energy downwards, through our feet that are in contact with the earth. One structure, the 'bio-arc healing dome' was lined with copper wiring in-between the wooden floorboards climbing all the way up, into the center of the dome. This sacred structure is where we experienced our first workshop of the festival. 

L, R & I <3

The workshop we chose to attend was lead by 'G' , an extraordinary woman and the pioneer of cacao ceremonies to Bali. The cacao plant is traditionally used in many South American rituals as a powerful, heart opening tool. Everyone sat in a circle and in the middle was a jug of thick cacao mixed with wild honey, hot water, cajun pepper and other spices to help activate the natural properties of the cacao. We went round in a circle, sharing our intention for being there and pouring the cacao into small glasses to drink when we felt ready. G lead us through a two hour, meditative journey in which we danced, screamed and released that which did not serve us. Through this process, we paid respect to the sun, water, earth, wind and ether elements that work together to grow and nurture the cacao plant. Some people had profound experiences as the spirit of the cacao worked through them; shaking spastically, bursting into tears or screaming with laughter - it was amazing to see everyone in such a raw state of being. That was my first afternoon of the Ancient Futures healing process. By the end of that day my fear had melted away and my heart felt so expansive; R and I officially committed to our connection and went into the night rolling with the rhythm of the universe.

That evening and for the next 4 to come everyone danced in ecstasy to an eclectic mix of musicians and performers from all over the world; a group of sufi drummers playing the sounds of India, a Gypsie folk band from California playing instruments I've never even seen before, a dystopian breakdancing group, stand up poets and funky DJ's. The best part? Everyone was sober. The festival guidelines stated that drugs and alcohol were unwelcome but looking at the crowd, you'd never have guessed.

Every day of the festival was themed around a different element. The 'water' day was my favourite; in each beautifully decorated venue around the festival there was a different talk, workshop or meditation about this element. Some were more informative; explaining the water shortage in Bali or the global travesty of what is happening to our water sources; did you know, when water moves through 90° angles (e.g. in the pipes that it must go through before it reach our taps), the natural charge/ beneficial potential of the water is reduced. With the addition of heavy metals, fluoride and other toxic substances to the human body, it essentially becomes 'dead water', stripped of all its natural benefits or 'purified' as the cooperations advertise. The messages had a strong impact and the intention was to raise awareness and empower everyone to become protectors of water; social activists for the precious natural resources we so often take for granted. The negative facts were met with positive solutions; for example we were taught that if water moves through a vortex the molecules are re-energised and re-charged, restoring its beneficial potential. So devices exist that can re-charge our water or, given that our bodies are made of 70% water and our mind is our powerhouse, we can simply set intentions before drinking/ using it to maximise its effect on our body (check out Masaru Emoto for more!). A few scientists attended the gathering and although some things went over my head, you could see that the research of these professionals was extensive. "MNI WICONI", we all shouted - 'water is life'.

Every day I began to feel stronger and every day my consciousness began to expand. As everyone's energy began to merge, our collective frequency intensified. One day as everyone was lining up to get their beautiful cooked, locally sourced vegan food, I wondered through the hippie paradise. I dipped my toe into the healing pool that was lined with crystals, feeling so grateful for being in that magical space. Everyone was going through a healing process of some kind, some metamorphosis - releasing the old and welcoming the new, we were all equally vulnerable and equally receptive. There was little room for judgement but lots of room for expression and expansion; in the process many real connections were made. By the end of the festival, unlike most others, my memory was intact and full of knowledge. Through the transformational breathing, soul healing and body work we had tapped into that inner wisdom that everyone has the potential to reach. 

I left our lovely villa and said goodbye to R, L and all the other beautiful souls I had connected with; I looked out the window at the lush green rice paddies of Ubud and the old stone temples strewn with faded flags. It was time now to take what we had learned from the wisdom keepers and inspirational speakers and share it; as part of the movement to consciously create the new earth we want to live on. I am so grateful to Bali, the hosts, organisers, volunteers, guests and everyone in-between who made the experience possible, Aho. 

Rewind to Christmas Thaim.

So I'm almost 2 months into life in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia. Living at home, working full time and learning to appreciate the weekends more every day. I've found my priorities shift as my free time has become squeezed into a narrow 2-day gap and my recreational 'to do' list is still just as long ... and incomplete but I'm ticking off the boxes one by one. The lesson I'm learning is that it's ok to slow down because unlike the days of my degree, in this working world there is no end to the race. So while it's long overdue, this post is something I wrote over the christmas holiday and although I'm in a very different space now, it's nice to let the mind return to a time that was once a reality...

The clocks hand has finally cut the circle in two; it's 7.30am and my body is up and eager for the day. The 8am morning yoga in the buddha hall was sounding good but alas, nature decided otherwise. My mum and I are staying in a little wooden bungalow at the top of a mountain, in Koh Phangan, Thailand. Aside from its solid foundations it stands bare and defenseless against tropical rainstorms like this. The shutters closest to my head are swinging open and closed and gusts of earthy wind are circulating the room, it's a wild experience to be a part of. The tropical trees are shuddering and the giant leaves - so thin and strong have been weakened as they fall to the ground in all directions - soon to become part of the next layer of jungle floor when the storm has passed.

Yesterday, when I looked out the window at the vast expanse of sea, my eyes were entertained by the constant currents and rips that were surging and merging into one another. But now, looking out there is no distinction between the underwater rhythms. Despite the outer chaos the water is seemingly calm, awash with a million tiny pockets from where the droplets continue to fall. Through the ancient medicinal lens of Ayurvedic tradition that we follow in yoga this weather would be described as vata; a 'dosha' or constitution that connotes purifying, wet and strong weather on the outside and a desire for movement, creativity and contemplation on the inside. If one were to sit now and practise anything it would need to be the opposite - long, deep, heating breath and strong, grounding movements - working with the elements. A big thunderbolt just struck the sky and in its wake, silence has followed. Now we rest in the calm after the storm...

I love it here, this patch of earth that we've been coming to for over 10 years now; I'm with my mum, her boyfriend T and his kids C and T to celebrate New Years. To the side of our hut, enclosed by a little bay lies 'The Sanctuary' - a healing retreat scattered along the roots of the jungle. The restaurant is full of vegan and gluten free goodness and the shop full of Ayurvedic oils and pretty garms. The grounds are run by the glam hippies adorned in sparkly sequins and sarongs, floating between natural and psychedelic healing sessions. On the other side of us is Haad Tien where 'Eden' lies - a venue that holds great sentimental value, positioned between ancient rocks and home to the most magical raves. It's a sight to be held when the sunrise reveals the seamless stretch of bay, sea and jungle - previously hidden by the night. I remember being on an adventure here when I was 18 years old with J... we'd managed to escape the obnoxious beats of the half moon party on Haadrin and instead, chose to board a little boat to an unknown bay that offered an unimaginable alternative. We danced until the sun rose and then I remember recognizing an old school friend from Sri Lanka and then another from Cambodia! My worlds had collided and shrunk into a tropical raindrop. It is truly a place where magic happens... I found it comical yet not surprising that we had discovered the rave right around the corner from the healing retreat that I'd spent time in growing up. So this is where the adults had disappeared off to when I lay in bed at night listening to the cicadas sing. The dots all add up eventually...

For a change, this holiday I haven't been so drawn to the beats that echo across the island. My body has been recovering from the last few weeks of madness in London and I'm luckily in the perfect place to heal. The other day as the post-yoga gong was sounding through the hall, I heard it merge with the deep bass from Guy's Bar and I smiled... true.vibes. It's 3 days on from New year, the music is still going and the people still flowing passed our little hut with remnants of glitter on their faces..

So that tropical storm grew and grew until we could no longer stay

For fear of being blown away.

And after a few hiccups we were all homeward bound 

and we made it back safe and sound.

Now I'm counting down the days,

until the next glorious getaway.

Song of the day: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vrbaZ7dpJyg

The final wave

And then there were 4… It’s coming to the end of my time in Morocco and our Essaouira family are coincidentally leaving within days of each other; like a game of dominoes, when L left it initiated the movement out of our comfortable lives that we’ve become so used to. Every evening over the last week has been a goodbye, not that our nightly activities have changed from the usual red-wine and smoke fuelled jam sessions in the apartment or on the terrace. In the midst of this leaving procession, there was a super full moon and for me, the days leading up to it were ridden with anxiety - an emotional build up to change perhaps, as though an animal in flight mode preparing to flee the nest. But as the moon begins to disappear again from our visual field and the end of our time here nears, I feel calm. The time has come for change. 

Over the last month, we’ve formed a transitory family in this magical town by the sea… It started off with just two of us. I’d been working at the hostel Surf Mellow for a week and I was on the terrace, arduously washing the wet suits. R walked up the stairs having just checked in, he was a fellow nomad from Seattle a year into his travels and his opening line was a sarcastic comment on my poor ability to complete my task; that did it, friends for life. R was constantly entertained by my many failures at hostel work (that eventually lead to my being relocated to a different hostel), my lack of enthusiasm for the job was apparently quite obvious. Our daily routine was simple: I’d teach yoga in the morning, we’d surf together in the afternoon and chill/ work at the hostel in the evenings, with meals filling the gaps. We were absorbed into a new subculture of people with which we lived the beach life that was so simple yet so fulfilling; from the kite surfers in the wind to the surfers in the sea, we too learned to dance with the elements. 

Our routine was jogged when R and I were no longer welcome back to the hostel because of various reasons surrounding incompatibility with the owner. R went first, a few days earlier than I and instead of confronting him about the true reasons, the owner had just said that there weren't enough beds available; so whilst waiting for a bed (that would never appear) R decided to camp in a sand dune amongst the desert shrubs. By the time I’d been kicked out too, he was over his 'Into the Wild' stint, and was ready for a bed so we both happily relocated to the sister-hostel ‘Ambra’, where our duo began to grow. V was the endearing and inquisitive Chilean of the group that always had everyone hooked on an interesting thought: "what does it mean to authorize yourself?" His look was strong; he’d pensively play his guitar wearing a black beret whilst smoking a cigarette that would stick out beneath his moustache. We were all sitting on the balcony having our first conversations and (appropriately) drinking red wine, when I met D – the energetic, loud and loving girl of the group that soon became my Moroccan (meets Melbourne) ally. D was also here on a business venture, launching a line of leather bags that were being produced in Marrakech. It took one evening together to know that we’d all found somewhere we wanted to stay with people that we wanted to stay around. 

One of my favourite parts about travelling is the characters you meet along the way; for those first initial days we were graced by a special character Rd, the magician we called him. He’d travelled down from Portugal in his magic van for the electronic music festival that was bizarrely being held in Essaouira. Every so often, he would wave his wand and cast a surprise spell out the back of his magic van, sending someone off into a dimension of some sort. When it came time for his disappearing act, he returned to Portugal and D went back to Marrakech to check on her bags. Meanwhile R, V and I continued on with Ambra life.

Working there was an interesting experience… 5 hours a day of sitting on the dark, bottom floor of the hostel, checking people in and making sure the door stayed closed. This was in exchange for a €5/night hostel bed and breakfast (that rarely appeared). The bottom floor of the hostel was the only Wi-Fi zone in the building, so I was fortunate to always have company; but the job soon became mindless and restrictive – I felt like a trapped animal and my petals began to wither as I spent most of my day sitting in a dark hostel, while the sun shined outside…  I still wonder why I stayed for so long. The cleaner of the hostel, Fatima spoke to me regularly in Arabic; none of which I ever understood but nevertheless, I’d respond in my broken French/ English and motion with my hands. Despite not understanding each other the conversation would always end with some form of unknown agreement, Fatima walking off shaking her head while I stood confused, wondering what we'd just spoken about. The manager of the hostel was another funny character - Rw, the cool, young Moroccan who used to compete in capoeira competitions with the 2 hostel owners. I don’t know how long he’d been managing Ambra for but there was no system (alike most other hostels in Essaouira). He’d never know how much money guests had paid or how many rooms were free and if there was ever a mistake, it was never his fault. Like my experience with most local, Moroccan men he persisted in his shameless and incredibly forward attempts to flirt, despite being married. 

Time went by, V was still ‘leaving in 2 days’ and R eventually started volunteering with me so I could finally have a day off. But it was Murphy’s Law and my day off was also the day the hostel had to be (conveniently) quarantined due to a bed bug invasion; it seemed the managers technique of playing musical beds and avoiding the bugs, could only work for so long. Those working at Ambra weren’t considered a priority so we were mercilessly asked to leave. R stormed out after a dispute with Rw who refused to listen to how awful the management of Ambra was and I walked out smiling, finally free from hostel work and its mundanity. 

This is when we discovered The Atlantic - the biggest hostel in Essaouira that hosted about 100 people and was known for its late night parties. Cous Cous was the nickname for the crazy chef with the 10 one-liners that you’d eventually notice repeated themselves amongst each new group of travellers. Much to our amusement, he assumed a fairly authoritarian role in the hostel despite his actual lack of authority, for he was only in charge of the kitchen. But as fun as it all was I had been living in hostels for a while now and craved my own space; so I spent a week going on missions around the medina with various locals, looking for potential apartments to rent. I viewed countless properties that ranged from small, run-down dusty spaces to beautiful, open-plan villas adorned in vines and banana trees. One night, out of slight desperation after a series of unfortunate events I sent a drunken text to my estate agent, confirming a property by Bab Marrakech… finally, my own space.  

I moved in to the apartment and like clockwork, I was hit with the flu. For a week I went M.I.A and slunk in to the quiet side of the medina, skipping the late night jam sessions. Our crew had grown larger now, encompassing D and L – two best friends and writers from New York, Le a chef/ writer from Canada and A, the sweet American girl next door. As I started to feel better, I began to miss having constant company around so R moved in to my extra room. He now had space for his nightly shenanigans and I had an amazing housemate. Meanwhile, back at the Atlantic the heat was beginning to rise - incidences of stolen property had become increasingly frequent and the thief  still remained a mystery. The staff’s method of handling the situation was to ban all outsiders, meaning R and I. Never in our lives had we been kicked out of this many hostels, for a moment I had to wonder whether it was actually us ... but just for a moment. This new rule meant there was now an awkward divide amongst the group and when the terrace tunes began on the top floor of the Atlantic, R and I would reluctantly slink back to our apartment. Occasionally, we’d have the whole group crowd around our little Moroccan-tiled living room table; but the angry knocks and shouts from our neighbours suggested that they didn’t quite enjoy our jams as much as we did… 

During the daytimes, everyone had their own routine but we’d all meet up regularly at one of our favourite local cafes, Chez Omar or the lentil stand. There was always a new member to meet and a new story to hear as the crew expanded like a growing organism. Every character in the group added a unique touch and we all shared a love for music; as we went about our daily activities, someone was constantly bursting into song or playing a tune, it was wonderful.

But no song lasts forever... so with the last gusts of wind, the notes are beginning to fade as the dominoes continue to fall and now we’re down to the final 4. We all sit together at our favourite local cafe for 'one last' Moroccan sunset. An air of love and nostalgia surrounds us as we indulge in msmen with amlou and sip on mint tea, what a magical moment by the Essaouira sea. 

Song of the day: Give me one reason (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ym1eDeOxq14)