A bumpy start

The little Laotian lady & J's injured arm

Our first meal by the riverside

The tables seem to have turned concerning a number of things. 1) I started off travelling with 1 girl and 1 boy.. crazy J. came a long and the female vibes just kept coming. Now, I'm one girl in a group of 10 lads. "It's like a fucking Forest down south, can I borrow your razor?", "RUGBY TIME!", "Beer, beer, beer!". I exaggerate slightly because they're all genuine and wouldn't hurt a fly but it's a funny turn of events. 2) We left Vietnam expecting calm and tranquil. I've picked up a tummy bug (sticking to a vegetarian diet for once) and on one of our slowest motorbike excursions so far, we skidded on a dirt road and managed to land ourselves in the hospital for the second time in an hour. The doctor looked happy as our money bags jingled in regret. I sat on the ledge watching J. on the bed nearest to me and a little boy on the one furthest away, both being stitched up. I sat there with a few cuts and bruises, tears streaming down my face as I swelled with the pain of J's arm, and the little boys foot on the other side of the room. The little boy had his eyes squeezed tight as they ruthlessly clamped down his legs to stop him from squirming. I attempted to distract J. from his pain by talking to him about home, mum and dad and his best mates back in Aus. choking on my own tears didn't seem to help the situation. I held my thumbs up and strained a smile to the little boy on the other side of the room to keep his spirits up, but mine weren't in full functioning order either so the attempt was in vain. The nurse came around and squirted some white alcoholic solution on my cuts and bruises and after a quick job (that turned out to be infected only days later), the doctor wished us good luck, put on his jacket and walked out. I turned to the window behind me to see the other boys waiting patiently, rolling around in wheelchairs, it made me grin. I just didn't understand where all this bad karma was coming from. Only hours before I'd been lying here having a blood test to check whether I had malaria or not (thankfully it's just food poisoning) and wanting to just be cradled and looked after..Lying in a hospital bed is never fun, i could just think of how only weeks earlier I'd been lying in one in KL, hospital environments are just so unnatural. The smell, the equipment, the people, the energy. Thankfully the blood test came back negative for malaria, and while the doctor attempted to convince me to have various stomach scans that would cost a ridiculous sum of money, I payed what I owed and left with a sigh of relief that it was only food poisoning and I wouldn't have to admit defeat and fly home in a few days time.  It was only until later that we saw it as a sign that R&R was in need. A few days of no drinking or doing, just settling for a little. It was ironic that on our day of recovery i watched the clip my mum had sent me a few weeks earlier, that was so appropriate for the situation (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Lx-AtPKWf9k&feature=share&list=UU1KIUp4PNCyIwCPTq1hYzWQ). One of the best things I got from it, besides a lifted spirit, was reaching enlightenment is like learning how to surf in a sea of waves. The waves can be both good and bad, sometimes you catch a great one and ride it for a while, and other times you tumble under the surface. You can't convince yourself you're always in a happy place because it's cruel to deny the dark side of the yin-yang. It bought me to the thought of intuition.. Just before the crash happened I was holding onto the back of the bike, imagining a scene in which we'd skid around a dirt corner and topple over, brushing off the thought with a shake of my head. Only minutes later did it actually occur and I was suddenly lying ontop of J. our wheel spinning and a dust cloud settling over us. I rolled over with a bruised knee and the boys all pulled up, gaping at the scene. J. pulled his sleeve up to reveal a deep gash, more were to be found on his hip and grazes in various other parts. We groggily drove back to the hospital, the thought of biking through the rest of the country losing all appeal.

Me and 'Mama'

The bus ride earlier wasn't fun either, sitting on bags of hard rice as we rocked side to side, the number of passengers increasing constantly and the number of goods (whether it be chickens, cabbages or potatoes, they just kept on coming). The pangs in my stomach would come and go in waves and I attempted to breathe into them and continue discussion with the boys or nod off to sleep against the hard glass window.. neither of them really working as good methods of distraction. We arrived and got into a tuk-tuk to get to the strip of guesthouses that we hopped between before settling on first one we'd seen. 4 in one room, 3 in another.. a few valium later I was passed out and in a happy place, the pain temporarily gone for the time being..
Laos had started with a bang and now we were at a crash. We'd began in a little border-town village that was tranquil and cheap, exactly what we needed. We stayed at a little guesthouse on the edge of the Mekong and after a swim with the locals, we checked out the town to take a few snaps and get a feel for where we now were. Passing an internet cafe with huddles of boys playing 'WOW' and 'Runescape' - it's funny how no matter what country you're in, the universal habits stay the same. At our guesthouse every night, there was a huge 'family dinner' for everyone staying there. Unlimited vegetarian food piled on plates that you helped yourself to, a long with unlimited shots of their local rice wine, that they continuously filled up during the meal. When the staff had gone to bed, they curiously placed 2 full bottles on our table, and left the fridge full of beer, unlocked (not smart when there's a group of drunk tourists stumbling around). We conversed with our new french friends, a drunk mix of languages spanning the room while we slurred words about a trek we were all set to do early the next morning (which of course never ended up happening, given that we were breathing rice wine till well into the afternoon). After a few days there and enough shots of rice wine we moved on to the next town, checking we hadn't left anything behind this time.

As we sat and ate our meals, Jack turned around to brush away a 'mosquito' that he heard in his ear. Only to realize it was another of the little old Laotian women wearing traditional dress and chewing beatle nut, making their funny 'shh shh shh' noises and trying to sell us 'bracelets'. After a few 'no no's' they opened their little bags to reveal huge bags of weed and little packets of opium. They'd go as far as to stuff it under your T-Shirt to get you to buy their (disappointing) products. I laughed as they tried to convince Jn. (a policeman in training) to buy their class A drugs.. but a few poppy fumes did help lighten the pain, only in Laos. We later bumped into our french friends from the first town, who'd made the trek the next morning, and spent the evening discussing picking clementines in Corsica  the next move on my agenda when I return to Europe. We all groggily got into bed, talking about aliens, the supernatural and how crazy the concept of wiki-leaks was, before drifting into a deep and beautiful slumber.

We didn't want to hold back our boys so for the day they went Kayaking while we rested and recovered.. before booking our tickets for the 'long boat' to Luang Prabang, our next stop. I'd been 2 years ago so was interested to see how different it'd be without the family, nice restaurants and no budget. We'd lost one of our boys N. who'd just finished his national service in the Israeli army and had a limited travel period so had to move faster than us, hence the group had shrunk again, (which did make it slightly easier to keep track of everyone.) We'd missed check-out time again, and were waved off by a hard-faced woman who was running the guesthouse (but I could understand as a single woman running a guesthouse you'd have to be on the ball the whole time, especially when people don't follow instructions, we couldn't exactly expect a friendly response).While on the bus, going up a fairly steep hill, we suddenly came to a halt as the engine stopped working and we narrowly escaped a crash with a local truck full of people. We began rolling backwards before the driver cleverly started the bus in reverse and we continued on, sighing in relief that this wasn't the end of our journey (for the second time). I'd stopped taking all the pills i'd been prescribed, my tummy ache was easing (ironically) and my mood was lighter. J. and I played word association games and laughed non-stop as the rest of the crew nodded off to their music.We had a quick toilet-break before the 7 hour boat ride, seeing the sign 'pay for toilet' annoying everyone. I hate it when they expect you to pay for something that's so basic and necessary. So everyone turned the corner and went in the bushes behind the facility.. almost expecting to see 'pay money' signs behind the bushes.

Coffee and Cigs

The long-boat was great fun. We motored along slowly, watching locals wash rice by the sides of the Mekong  pink water buffalo lapping water on the rocks and little boys frolicking by the sand as the older men stood behind them patiently with fishing lines. We read books, snoozed, jammed with guitars and harmonica's, sketched and talked. The time flew by and we were soon at the next town, that bordered Thailand 'Houeiai', where we stayed at 'BAP' guesthouse that was recommended in lonely planet. The woman running the guesthouse told us to call her 'mama', and was adamant that if we left we weren't allowed to come back. 'That's not fair mama' I said, 'no no you no say that's not fair, you go you no come back!' She made us laugh and obviously knew how to run a business. We played a new Spanish card game that night 'Escola', had some Lao tea and fresh mango while watching the sun set behind the red hills in Thailand (that was only 100m away across the Mekong). We then moved on to 'Pakbeng', the next town, before we caught the second-half of our long-boat journey to LP. A man stood where we arrived, with a sign saying 'BuonMey guesthouse' and shouting 'Bone me! Bone me!' that made us all giggle childishly. On the back of the sign was crossed out 'happy shakes, opium shakes, happy pancakes, opium pancakes' and that made us laugh even harder. We followed him up to his guesthouses, he'd sold it well, an odd character, completely ADD and switching between mocking English accents, to telling everyone to 'shut-up!' to giggling hysterically. I couldn't keep up. A group of others followed him as well  they'd pre-booked and weren't impressed with the steep walk up the hill, not what they'd read in the description when they were promised a 'free-ride to the guesthouse'. His excuse being 'oh the bus was late'. He claimed his name was 'Marco Polo' and we soon realized, like his name, his pitch was a scam as well  The rooms were dingy, the hot water didn't work, the extra bed never came, the happy shakes weren't happy enough and half the items on the menu were 'unavailable'. We still fell asleep happy that night, discussing childhood memories of 'Clifford the big red dog, spot, smurfs, Baba the elephant, Postman Pat' and so many more that bought fond smiles to our faces. Jn. smiling more than he had been 20 minutes ago when he'd discovered the giant spider in the corner of our bathroom (his one weakness besides heights).

Our make-shift meals on the boatride

We were awoken for the second half of the long-boat journey earlier than we'd have liked, with a bang on the door from 'Marco Polo', "GET UP! BOAT LEAVING!" We quickly ordered our fried rice, fruits and snacks to take on the boat, trying to avoid the extortionate rates that they tried to charge us. The first day we'd made make-shift meals of sticky rice, cans of tuna, soup from pot noodles.. borrowing bowls and cutlery off of our new Lao friends sitting in front of us, that were more than happy to practice their English as we tried to slip in a few words of Laotian. On the boat I thought back on all the people we'd met so far and how many had left their mark.. one in particular eliciting a furrowed brow .. the man we'd met in Nha Trang, Vietnam. He was 57 and had been in the British army, working as a sniper for the last 22 years. I remember talking to him over buckets of alcohol, crying as I watched the pain in his face as he told us about his best friend dying in his arms, the children he'd seen shot by their parents, the missions he'd had to be on and the amount of people he'd had to kill. The shadow loomed over him but rays of light still shined. The one most harrowing story he told me was of the brothel he'd had to break into. The men running it would sexually abuse girls from the ages of 7 - 20 before killing them and roasting their heads on spits, he'd killed each man involved and told us this with shaking hands and salty tears. J. and I couldn't imagine the pain he'd been through, and felt lucky to live so free of so much trauma and death, inspired by his strength we felt like that was the most we'd gained from any conversation at 'Why Not Bar' so far..

The boat ride passed faster than the previous one, I closed my eyes and 'a minute' later, we were already in in L.P, the French colonial buildings greeting us on arrival - I love this town, a world heritage site with no loud traffic, noisy rude people or big buses. We Followed our friends advice and trekked with other groups of backpackers to 'Spicy Lao', the hostel everyone was staying at. The adventures of which will be saved for the next post..

Recipe of the day: Laotian prawn curry

http://anhsfoodblog.com/2007/01/coconut-love-laotian-prawn-curry.html/

Good Morning Vietnam!

Oh where to start, the backpacking adventures have begun - it makes me dizzy just attempting to recall what's happened over the last 10 days in Vietnam. We're currently in Nha Trang, a beach on the north-east coast of Vietnam. It's beautiful, full of backpackers, bars and food - all we need really. Our hostel's called 'green apple', a slight step up from our previous room down a quiet alley near the night market. We didn't realize why it was so cheap until the construction work started in full swing at about 5am, an hour after we'd passed out - it didn't put smiles on many of our faces. This hostel's right above one of the busiest bars in town so we have it all at our doorstep. Before this trip started alcohol wasn't even considered in our budget of $150 a week, so the cash has been thinning faster than expected and my bank card's found its way into an ATM machine a few too many times - but something we've realized is at these touristy joints, if you don't go out for a drink or a dance socializing proves to be a bit of an issue. 

The imperial citadel at night in Hue

Vietnam began in Ho Chi Minh, the previous capital 'Saigon' in the south of Vietnam. We stepped off the plane awaiting the rush of south east asia that we've become accustomed to but before we could get anywhere we had to wait for our backpacks to come riding down the conveyer belt. Our backpacks that consist of everything we need for the next 6 months, so basically our lives. We stood waiting and watching the same few bags go around again and again with no sign of ours, my heartrate quickened and then out of the corner of my eye I spotted them on the floor at the back of the room, they'd been sitting there free-for-all since we'd arrived - I'm still surprised we tracked them down. So we stepped out of the airport and restrained ourselves from jumping in a taxi to our hostel - instead we took the local bus, not knowing where we were supposed to get off and feeling vulnerable knowing we were being ripped off; the adrenaline was pumping at the thought of having finally arrived in Nam, the constant beeping of the motorbikes, buses and cars only adding to the rush. That's another thing, the motorbikes here are ridiculous. I was warned but after KL I didn't think it could be much worse. Traffic lights, zebra crossing's and people walking across the road means nothing so crossing the road is like being in a video game, the main goal just being to try and not get hit by one of the million ruthless vehicles surrounding you. I started as well as i could and left my money bag with my credit card on the bus but had a sweet vietnamese man return it to me - great start. We couldn't face walking to our hostel with rumbling tummy's so we sat down at a little plastic chair place and had some rice, pork and bamboo shoots washed down with a king coconut. We made quite an entrance as we sat down with our huge bags and J's strap caught onto the little metal table flipping it over and knocking down our unimpressed neighbours dishes, at least they were nearly finished? We lugged our bags through the city feeling the communist vibe as we looked at the groups of people all wearing the same uniform and performing odd exercise routines in the park. Saigon Youth Hostel showed it's face after a few mishaps and we followed the fumes to the balcony at the top to bond with other backpackers over a spliff or two. That evening we were joined by N. and went for drinks with our new group of mates on the happening strip in town, entertained constantly by the fire dancers and the hilarious guys dancing to Gangnam style. To our delight we managed to attract a frenchy 'John Baptiste' that put up with us for a great night that ended with 2 minute noodles and a ridiculous climb up to our dorm that was 'conveniently' on the top floor, at least we were near the balcony. 

Ah he was a mad one

We all awoke groaning from the morning parade that was blasting into our room from downstairs, the song has been replaying in our heads ever since, but it forced us out of bed and into an afternoon in Ho Chi. We were determined to fit in a bit of culture while it was all so readily available so went to find a travel agent to book a trip to the Cu Chi tunnels. Mid-booking we hear a fire-cracker like sound and i turn around to see shoes flying across the road. People started crowding like ants so we went to check out what was going on and see a dead man lying face up on the street with his arms twisted and blood pooling around him. He'd somehow fallen or jumped from the top floor of the building we were in but the story was never clear. Seeing a dead person was traumatizing in itself but watching the reaction of the man crying next to him just hurt, the despair in his face was harrowing and the rest of the day had a solemm feel. Walking 10m down the street where noone was aware of what had happened just made it all the more weird, a harsh way of saying 'life goes on'.

We managed to fit in a few cultural momentos, though we missed the war and fine arts museums because they all close so early. We wandered around the palace, admired the glorious 'Notre Dam' and visited the Cu Chi tunnels. The Viet Cong created a whole world underground with all the fixtures and fittings, they had different 'floors' with kitchens, a place to bathe, areas to shoot from and all accessable via the tiny dark tunnels that spread out in a complex maize that only they could decipher. We had a chance to crawl through a few and oh my lordy, if that was one of the work-outs in P.E I wouldn't have lasted 5 minutes. The way you have to squat and manouver whilst carrying a huge weapon and trying not to sweat to death is besides me. We saw the terrifying traps that they used to catch intruders, the most humerous being the 'souvenir trap' - you step onto the grassy square to reveal metal spikes that penetrate your foot in a way that doesn't allow it to release hence you have a 'souvenir' of a huge metal spike to take home - eek. J got to feel manly by shooting a few guns and amidst all the rubbish the tour guide told us, I did take home knowledge about the 4 most important animals/ symbols in Vietnam. 1) Dragon - luck 2) Unicorn - Power, 3) Turtle - Immortality and 4) Phoenex - Beauty. I don't really see the connection between the tunnels and the animals but hey, it was interesting. That night after a few too many tequila shots and saigons, we partied with our new Aussie couple at a nearby club, crazy buffalo - the early morning bus to Mui Ne that we just caught was therefore greeted by 3 totally intoxicated teenagers that reeked of alci- thank god we chose the sleeping bus. 

I love the kids here

If you're not Russian, a kite surfer or rich, don't go to Mui Ne. We managed to budget by all sharing a double bed in a guesthouse, and struck gold when we met an Irish guy that ran an upmarket bar/ restaurant on the beach. We tapped into our stingy selves and bought a small bottle of water and a saigon bẻer, in return for spending the whole day by their amazing pool with free sunbeds and old school RnB. By night it turned into a suave bar with western waitors in black and sexy lighting, so after our one drink had finished and we couldn't bear to spend all our money on another, we went looking for more and ended up dancing our hearts out in an empty club with an audience of Vietnamese hookers and a few large white guys.

The beach in Hue

We escaped Mui Ne when we could and have been sucked into all that is Nha Trang. We've been spending our days on the beach, with other groups of backpackers, munching on fresh pineapple and mango, singing along to guitars, talking to fire dancers about their lives on the road and meditating in the sun. I love that you don't have to go anywhere to get anything when you're here, Vietnamese ladies walk passed you every 5 minutes with jewelry, cigarettes, food, drinks, hats, clothes you name it. Given, it does get frustrating how much they try to bleed you dry of your money but it's understandable given the poverty that they live in compared to us. Our mid-afternoon snack's been a quick bowl of Pho, grilled chicken and rice or lots of delicious morning glory or we get lazy and splash out for munch at 'A-Mart' on ice creams, chocolate or oreos, all the best heart attack material. Our nights have been blurry to say the least, buckets of booze at red apple, ring of fire, free shots all along the strip at 'Oasis' and 'Why not Bar' and lots of crazy drunken dancing. Rolling around in our hostel tickling security guards, getting ridden home on motorbikes or rikshaws, climbing up Vietnamese flag poles and waking up in the morning with a few new room-mates who didn't know how they got there. All of which is remembered in the morning when we sit around in dark glasses over a greasy breakfast looking through the photo's and cringing. We braved a booze cruise yesterday that started at 8.30am and consisted of a big group of backpackers on a little boat with lots of booze. Along the way we island hopped, went snorkelling, had a big group lunch and floated in rubber rings around a floating bar. We've all been left sore with sunburn but our stocks of Aloe are high so hopefully the red fades to golden at some point.

Another night

I began this trip with one mate and now we're 4 going on 10 - I have tưo of my best friends, a crazy munchkin we picked up along the way and everyone else who's doing the same route as us. I find when you befriend someone it's always based on the commonalities you share, whether it's your taste in music, where you're from, what you look like or what language you speak. Here the one thing everyone has in common is backpacking. We're all sharing such a similar experience that conversation flows faster than the Mekong at high tide and the next morning we've all got a few new friend requests, as much as we try to limit our time on social media. Age is irrelevant aswell, I'd say we're the youngest the majority of the time but it doesn't matter. So we continue, tomorrow we're renting bikes to explore a few waterfalls about 45 minutes away - our attempt to do something a bit more than consuming caloric beverages. It's that time of the evening again, the music's blaring and we're washing off our sandy bod's for another 'quiet' night in Nha Trang.

Recipe of the day: Pho

http://steamykitchen.com/271-vietnamese-beef-noodle-soup-pho.html

Crossing Oceans

B and I keeping warm

I opened my eyes this morning and didn't have to think twice to realize I was back in the tropics, it's growing on me. Monkeys instead of foxes, sweat instead of shivers, dresses instead of jumpers and rice instead of bread. I'm back in Asia! Stepping out the plane doors the familiar sticky heat blew over us, and the layers of clothes that I'd been wearing was slowly minimized. My eyes couldn't focus on one position due to sleep deprivation, climactic shock and a crazy week that involved a few brain numbing activities. I dragged my luggage along behind me, with no sense of self-conciousness after a 15 hour flight, only to hear my name called by a recognizable voice - 'shit.' I thought.  I turned around to a beaming familiar face, and her brother - She'd been sitting 2 seats behind me for 7 hours, and we hadn't seen each other once. My immediate response was 'what the fuck', that came out slightly louder than expected, only to be received by dirty looks from all the conservative Muslim women in burqas that surrounded us. To my relief, we all looked as bedraggled as each other, and it only served for more delirious laughter. The 14 hour flight was not something I'd wish to repeat, non-stop crying (by both myself and the 2 babies sitting in front of me), no sleep, delays, a hectic 10 minute transfer period, food that tasted like it'd come out of a clinical trial, uncomfortable seats and never mastering the right temperature.. but I'm here, safe and sound (much to the surprise of my entire extended family that for some reason, had their doubts..)

See the double halo?

Where to start, can I first congratulate everyone for 'surviving' the apocalypse!  I was so intent on feeling some sort of change occur at 11.11 on 21/12/12 but when I looked at the clock it was already 13 past - oh well. I was browsing Facebook yesterday though and on a group that I'm a part of called 'Catalysing Change' there was a post that explained what causes the 'halo around the moon'; apparently it's "caused by pencil-shaped ice crystals in cirrus clouds that bend moonlight. On Dec. 21st, Harald Edens of Magdalena, New Mexico, witnessed a double halo as seen in this photo. The inner 9-degree halo is caused by ice crystals in the shape of pyramids" - If you don't know the significance of pyramids, please do a bit of research, It's fascinating. But my point is, though I didn't see any profound physical change, at least someone did?

Grooving with my favourite boy
in the beer garden

The last week has been the craziest of my life. It was a familiar feeling that my grade had experienced post-graduation. Having to see each other as much as possible, attend everything that was going on and leave no time to breathe for 'FOMO' (fear of missing out) - only to suffer the consequences later. I remember having a conversation with my mum about this ages ago, because after about a week of the craziness, when it has died down slightly and your body has a minute to recuperate, the suffering begins. Why that happens is common sense, but what I found difficult to understand, was how your body can keep pushing when you know there should be a limit. In spiritual terms we call it 'ancestral energy' - it's like the core storage space that draws energy from 'our ancients' if you will for when we really need it, during illness or dire situations etc.. not when our body's can't handle too many substances or late nights out, which is where it can be wasted. Woops, the consequences aren't proving to be too fun.

Typical.

To summarize a week in a sentence: Party-crashing for free drinks by the Thames, Civilized dinners by candlelight in caves being served red wine and cheese, regressing to our youth with drunken nights on southbank in playgrounds, arcades and Japanese restaurants,  shivering on Hampstead heath watching psychedelic vibrating trees and London's reflection on an invisible lake, grooving to tunes in the beer garden in winter wonderland, farewell lunches with friends and family and raving in ecstasy under tube stations to deep dub with an eclectic mix of all my closest friends. It's been a sleepless adventure that I wouldn't give back for the world - they say living with someone makes or breaks your friendship, and M. - as best friends since day zero, I reckon we can say we've achieved success.. So the alarm went off 2 hours after bedtime and after a few kicks to turn it off, I scrambled the last of my things together, leaving a trail behind me of course, to jump into the taxi and head to Heathrow airport terminal 4. 'Christmas is coming, Christmas is coming' could be heard softly on the radio as I nodded off, only to be woken (what felt like) a minute later when we'd arrived. The recent loss of my debit card meant I had to actually pay attention to where my money was and what I was spending, so I bought the usual duty-free chocolates for the family, a couple of locks for my bag, and a coffee to keep my brain mildly active, counting the pennies as I went. The water-works soon started and I'd switched from the normal'ish looking teenager, to an exasperated mess.. that went on for longer than I would've liked..

Love for J in Trafalgar square

I gazed out of the small oval airoplane window that was cold from the high altitude.. The stars above doha twinkled in scattered clumps and before my eyes closed again, I felt like one of them. Stars appear on clear dark nights and leave when the sun comes up, always temporary but always there. The instability of my life at the moment feels immense in both a good and bad sense - the on-flight crew definitely picked up on it as my blanket got wetter and wetter with tear stains - but tonight wasn't about keeping up appearances as I slunk back to sleep in DLD trackies and a comfy hoodie - the best way to fly. I only managed to watch one movie 'L'amour dure trois ans' (love only lasts 3 years) that felt quite appropriate given that nothing seems to stay the same for long, but it's a good one to watch - not your typical Hollywood romcom.

The end of the world party <3

The stars faded and Kuala Lumpur showed it's face in the light of the dawn - driving along the highway chatting to our sweet taxi driver felt surreal, returning to the familiar after having experienced 6 months of different is an odd sensation. I was sat down in McDonald s before arriving home, for a cup of coffee with Z. our taxi man, because apparently 'my eyes had to be slightly more open when I greeted the family'. My heart rate increased as the caffeine rush kicked in, and we zoomed past the twin towers, school, our local roti cannai stall, up the hill, into the rainforest and through the gates to our house, to be greeted by an emotional family of three - how I'd missed them. The next few hours are a little bit of a blur, I know it involved swimming, a few more coffees, a light lunch and a social dinner in a scrambled order, and then my head hit the pillow, and all I saw was stars, until a very loud "STOCKING TIME" could be heard, making it's way into my room. My 13 year old brother dragged everyone into bed, as we opened our stockings in delirium and fed off his contagious excitement. My stocking mainly consisted of bits and bobs for travelling, lots of yummy chocolates and a bit of make-up -- Santa, you did me well. After a light hearted christmas jam (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H8NeUGA0An0) I got on the Irish coffee's while dad began scrambling eggs to be served with buttered toast and smoked salmon - a Chrimbo must. Handel played in the background and the Christmas spirit continued throughout the day as we opened presents, socialized with friends over a big Christmas turkey and ham and gorged with minced pies and christmas pudding that were drowned in brandy butter, clotted cream and haagen daz ice cream... that will last for the next week. 

Family.

Family skype sessions on both side commenced as dusk approached, and we ran back and forth between the two computers to send our love to kin across the universe. The day wound down with a session by our pool, breathing in the KL night, and a few other things, with old friends and music - suddenly it didn't feel so strange any more  a friend described the sensation as 'having the pause button switched to play after 6 months of living different lives'. I miss London, the people and the fun, but KL has a few adventures of it's own that we're all ready to take on - expectamus in antecessum. 

Recipe of the day: Devils on horseback (our christmas classic)

http://www.guardian.co.uk/lifeandstyle/2011/mar/27/nigel-slater-devils-horseback-classic

Stars always follow a setting sun

To Tisbury we go

The sun's lower than it should be at 12:30pm as I sit and wind down, allowing all of life's little worries to slowly slip away as a stress-free family ridden weekend lies ahead. The weather's doing funny things now, 2 days ago I couldn't feel my fingers beneath 2 pairs of gloves and today I'm only wearing a T-shirt and cardigan. It fills me with slight dread knowing that in 8 days I'm going to step out of the aeroplane to be greeted by an intense wave of humidity. Acclimatizing to the tropics is going to take a few days of lots of pool and AC action, as I welcome frizzy hair and bikini's.
It's a bit of a shame really, the pain of the cold is worth it because it's leading up to snow and Christmas - the first part of that is something I just seem to have missed, out of sheer bad timing. The first 3 times it snowed in our area I was dead to the world, recovering from heavy nights - I woke up to the picturesque image of rooftops and gardens blanketed by a light layer of the soft, fluffy white stuff - the reflection of the low altitude sun was making it glisten and the pale blue background blended in perfectly. As for Christmas, I'm lucky to have been here for the build up. Watching the trees go from lush to naked - standing in rows and clumps with odd, bumpy, angular branches. At night they look like weeping willows from Harry Potter that are about to come to life and wrap their arms around you, trying to keep themselves as warm as possible by pulling you into their bare and magical worlds. 
Walking down the street, the few green plants and berries all stand frozen and preserved and a light layer of glittery frost covers everything. I picked a curled leaf off a branch the other day and it lay frosty and unchanged in my hand, a tiny piece of art. The lights are forever increasing in quantity, strung over trees, bridges and windows. Walking home I spot the tops of Christmas trees peeking through the windows, ours is spread out comfortably in the corner by the front door. M and I were leaning out our window the other day, braving the outside air to lift ourselves with a few puffs of an old friend. She described London as being muted in winter, and that was the perfect adjective to describe it. The usual buzz and chaos that London's so known for is reigned in a little, the light is dimmed, the temperature dropped, the layers added and the vibe softened. It's not such a rush.
I've always spent Christmas in the tropics and I feel so lucky for that, my Christmas' consist of tinsel wrapped around palm trees, drunken jams in swimmers and seafood lunches on the beach - it's special and different but it'd be nice to abide to tradition for a change.

So the countdown's on and the 'portals' have opened as of 12/12/12 -- that's what I was told by my my madre so I did a bit of reading and watching to get inspired and understand what I was preaching. So basically, the sun goes through a precession wherein every 72 years it moves backwards by one degree, journeying through all the zodiac planes - the 'age of Aquarius'  might ring a bell, this is the new astrological age that's begun, as the sun's equinox has moved from the Piscean constellation to the Aquarian one. So at various points in time, the sun is between its highest and lowest points in the sky, also known as an 'equinox'. One of these is to take place on December 21st - aka the December solstice, when the sun is positioned at the lowest point in the northern hemisphere and the highest point in the southern. It's in the centre of the milky way while crossing the galactic equator, and on December 21st at 11:11 (deep breath!), the precession of the equinoxes occurs. This happens only once every 26,000 years and the alignment will take place along the plane of the entire galaxy. This, as you can imagine, causes a huge physical change on earth..  
Just a few little random examples of how the movement of the moon/ sun affect our physical reality, to keep everything in perspective.. 1) That temperamental time when emotions run wild?  A woman's menstrual cycle is dependent on the position of the moon, affecting us both physically and emotionally 2) The movement of the tides (and given that the majority of our earth, and body consists of water, I'd say that's a pretty huge source of control.) 3) The migration and navigation of animals based on the position of the sun and sea etc etc etc. 
So during this shift, in spiritual terms, the 'portals' are believed to be open from 12/12/12 - 21/12/12,  the portals I refer to are "Places where the magnetic field of Earth connects to the magnetic field of the Sun, creating an uninterrupted path leading from our own planet to the sun's atmosphere 93 million miles away." In turn, creating different energetic fields and particles on earth, and in humans, allowing for concious growth and awareness. (http://science.nasa.gov/science-news/science-at-nasa/2012/29jun_hiddenportals/).  It's a time to keep your heart open and your eyes wide. If I were to sit and breathe into this shift, the only image I could use to describe my inner experience is a wet cloth being tightly rung out. The emotional and physical changes happening right now are immense, and I'm using this 'shift', and my recently prescribed Microgynon (eek) to justify it. 
But what I seem to be picking up from all these spiritual sites and groups that I'm involved in, is the concept of 'unity conciousness' that's so important right now. We're so used to being individually wrapped up in our own worlds, yet we forget that we grow from others, so if this is a time for growth, it's important to feed into that. I, like many others, find that I get stuck in my own head a lot. Your problems absorb you and you lose perspective - other people bring you out of that. A recent source of inspiration, has come from a man named 'Bruce Lipton'. In one interview on 'the power of conciousness' he speaks of how we all have the ability to consciously change our realities if we emerge out of our habits that are controlled by our subconscious mind. His main message being that if we were to make the effort to live consciously for a larger percentage of the time, we could have anything - watch this (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VYYXq1Ox4sk). 

I'm looking over a green hill at the tip of a rainbow, the rest has faded and the very end where the pot of gold resides is lingering in the afternoon air. I'm daydreaming about the walk we're going to take later, past the little church at the bottom of the hill, up across the fields where the oak trees lie surrounded in a bleak mid-winter mist, and then up and over the gate that leads us back to the path, eesh I need to stretch my legs. But my monkey mind never hooks to one thought for long..
My bucket list is slowly being ticked off, but time seems to be, as it always it, the most limiting factor. Seeing family, godparents, old friends and new, buying Christmas presents, going to art exhibitions, markets, shops and restaurants  that I never saw and giving it all to the nights out that have to happen. Finishing the Crimbo rush and enjoying the last few days of a winter fling that's just started heating up; wondering what would have become if the flower girls adventures weren't so far away and if it were as easy as to hold her down with soggy clothes and breezeblocks x

The smell of manure and sheep just wafted through the carriage - we're in the countryside!

Recipe of the day: Venison pie (had it last night, ah.mazing)

http://www.bbc.co.uk/food/recipes/venisonpie_89770
   

Glide with me

Christmas trees <3

Looking outside the window I get shivers and tingles all over. A mini mandy rush as the pale sunlight reflects off the thin layer of frost that's blanketing the ground - the foundation of winter. We're at the beginning, the progression is taking place as we all wait in anticipation for the white snowflakes to make their presence known, before the bitterness sets in and the everyone's hardiness is put to the test. My level of respect for people living in ridiculous climate conditions like Greenland, Sweden or Canada - where there are literally months of darkness, has grown considerably. And this is the beginning? My friend came back from Sweden telling me about the funny light contraptions people wear on their heads. It's basically to give them the 'sunlight' and vitamin D that they can't naturally get from the sun, as well as preventing SAD (Seasonal Affective Disorder) etc.. The thought of resorting to artificial sunlight triggers so many alarm bells in my head, I wouldn't be able to cope with that but kudos to those who do!

The boys

Ice sofas

That's one thing I feel I've taken for granted -- sunlight. The grass is always greener on the other side though right? As Ginger tells us.. ;) -- Living in the heat involved wearing the thinnest clothes possible and no make-up (in fear of it melting off your face) with a the odd hoodie under your arm for those freezing cold, 16°C classrooms that we'd spend half our day sitting in. Warmer weather does drain more of your energy, your body relaxes into a sleep-wake state and your mind drifts as the waves of heat take their toll. My godfather here refuses to turn the heating on in his house to keep everyone 'alert' and stop it turning into a huge, warm, lazy sofa come January. I'd much prefer a the latter but hey, I'm not paying their electricity bills so I don't really have a say. Despite the docile attitude the heat can create, it is a lot easier to deal with. You don't have to worry about forgetting your 50 layers of clothing as you run out the door in shorts and a hoodie - mislead by the deceiving blue sunny sky (yes, this has happened to me on more than one occasion). I suppose it depends on the person and their preferences but I'm definitely more of a warm weather kinda gal - the tropics is a 17 day reach away and the hourglass is sifting that sand faster than I'd like so I shouldn't really spend it complaining about the cold.

My girl

I had a bit of a magical moment the other day. Gliding across the ice with 'santa clause is coming to town' being strummed and sang in a jazzy melody from the bandstand in the centre of the ice rink. I was feeling wintry in my (*faux) fur waistcoat, woolly hat and gloves. The first 10 minutes were terrifying - that unnatural feeling of being out of control as you try and gain your balance while trying to maintain a level of composure and not look like a complete numpty falling on their ass for the 10th time. I let down my guard and held onto the railings with the only other people on the rink that were in my boat, most of them being 10 - 12 year olds.. My mates went zooming off as soon as their skates touched the ice, letting go of any kind of fear and joining the mass surge of ice skaters as they rotated clockwise. Slowly, slowly I picked up the rhythm and was off with them - breathing in the cold night air and watching the millions of little Christmas lights blend into one as we got faster and faster. The bell tolled too soon and it was the end of our turn, we stumbled onto flat, dry ground, feeling funny as the sensation of walking slowly became normal again. The rest of winter wonderland awaited us with open arms. Wooden cabins serving mulled wine and warm cider, hot chocolate, hog roasts, churros, crepes, mountains of macaroons - the options were endless and all so appealing. It reminded me of the party I went to a few weeks ago, 'Regression Sessions'. It was themed around 'childhood', a time to regress - there were various rooms with games, ball pits, bouncy castles and lots of different DJ's. Children's nursery rhymes infused with techno beats echoed through the halls as crowds of drugged up teens swayed through the doors. A little ironic, and a tad corrupt - but lots of fun nevertheless. Winter wonderland was like a childhood fantasy come to life. I walked over to one of the games and bought 7 hoops for 3 pounds. The only aim was to loop a ring around one of the 20 prizes in the centre, I laughed when I saw how easy it looked. But the phrase 'looks can be decieving' rang through my ears as my hoops disappeared to nothing with no prize to claim. That was the only 3 pounds I spent on games that evening.

Mountains of macaroons.

I left Hyde Park with a fun and festive feeling. Reminiscing on how it felt to be 6 years old, waking up on Christmas morning and jumping into your parents bed with a stocking filled with pressies. I'd always pick up my stocking extra carefully, imagining that only hours ago, father Christmas had held it in his hands and filled it up specially (no sexual implications here, I promise). The carrots that we'd left out for the reindeer would be gone, and the glass of brandy for santa would be empty. I was afraid that that feeling of excitement and anticipation was gone, and the only feeling I'd wake up with on Christmas morning was a heavy head - but I've just learnt that it can come back - the beauty of the impermanent nature of feelings.
 I was walking to the station yesterday, passed Sainsburys, the off license, my old school and the post office, when I came to the pub right by the zebra crossing. It was 5pm and the skies light was dimmed - on the wooden table outside the pub was a little boy, about 4 years old. He was lying on the top of a table looking up at the dangling lights above him and just smiling. His eyes glittered and happiness radiated from his beaming face. His nanny was a few metres away shouting at him to get off the table because they needed to leave. We made eye contact and shared a cheeky smile, before he turned back to the lights and resumed his imaginary fantasy.

Just before the bell

When you observe kids and the interaction adults have with them, or even us - It's funny that our automatic response a lot of the time is to tell them off for doing something wrong, this engrained need to control them by assuming the worst. A little boy was running his toy car across a newspaper on the tube yesterday, and got told off for disturbing the man next to him - the man was smiling softly with no hint of blame - it's so unnecessary  I find myself doing that with my brother as well so I understand - I think it comes down to just loosening up and seeing things for what they are, like I mentioned in 'The monster in the closet', it shouldn't take something that does matter for us to realize what really doesn't.

Bathroom jams

Something else I respect about children is their ability to entertain - as adults we have our various methods to reach our ecstatic and whimsical fantasy worlds, but kids do it all the time, naturally. Yes, they don't have the same kind of responsibilities weighing on their shoulders and their heads aren't full of baggage - but if they can enter a state of bliss by merely looking up at Christmas lights, who's to say we can't do the same?
I'm trying to soak in as much of the Christmassy London vibe as I can before I go back to the tropics. I feel a sadness knowing I have to leave behind this home that I'm finally used to.  It's always felt impermanent knowing that there was a timeline to it all - but it's comforting knowing it's still going to lie here unchanged, with all it's bells and whistles when I come back next summer. There's still so much to be discovered in London - I've tasted the cherry that sits on a mountain of cake; so the sadness is impermanent too, like the sand that's making it's way through the hourglass.

Recipe of the day: Churros

http://allrecipes.com/recipe/churros/

The last of the Amsterdamage

T. and I

Leiden

Woke up in yet another strange room, it was still dark so I dashed to the loo to try to get back to bed before my mind officially announced itself awake. I bumped into my mate in the hallway and sighed at the thought that the day had started and bedtime would have to wait a few more hours. The miserable rainy weather made it feel early but we were going on midday by the time all the breakfast was on the table. We made a huge fry up, recycling the one available frying pan to make eggs, baked beans, bacon, mushrooms and the rest of the essentials. We wrapped up tight with our rucksack for the day and set off. Dressing for winter is an effort and a half. First you deal with the pain of getting out of whatever warmth you have on you, pushing through the cold to get into the shower and then layering up, tights, jeans, vests, t-shirts, jumpers then coats, gloves, socks, thicker socks, boots - and then you stuff yourself through the door feeling slightly like a Michelin man yet losing all insecurities about what you look like when you can still feel the cold through a million layers. It's the very end of October and the temperature has already gone below 0 - I'm terrified to think about how much worse it will get. 

Crystals at a local market

Our day was action packed, on our way down to the beach we made friends with a  'fun guy that made the rest of the journey slightly more colourful and silly - luckily the clouds had drifted away leaving a pristine blue sky. We took full advantage of enjoying the moment, rolling down sand dunes and hiding from the wind in cave-like indentations in the sand. We bought crisps, grapes and pears from the supermarket to munch on later and then began our stroll towards the little town of Leiden - I experienced 'kibbling' on our way down the windy beach front -- fresh cod fried in batter eaten with mayo. It was the perfect warm snack, followed by apple pie and hot chocolate in the closest café we could find, we sat there enjoying the luxury of the warmth in total defeat from the cold. We considered the 1.5 hour walk home, but decided to clink a few more coins and get the bus instead. A quick bite of a pizza, a little dance to 'Clint Eastwood' by the Gorillaz and we were off to the bus stop. We made sure we'd have at least 10 minutes so as not to miss the bus, as it was the only one coming in our direction for 40 minutes. This bus was essential to catch as one of my mates A. had another bus to catch back to London from Amsterdam and we were already running short on time. We teared up a little waiting for the bus to come, I lay on our pile of bags looking at the two boys in front of me who I'd watched grow into men over the past 3.5 years - wondering when the next time I'd see them again would be. We all looked defeated, but soon saw the bus lights approaching on the dark empty road. Our hearts dropped when it drove straight passed us, tactically ignoring the three teenagers that stood waving their arms in the middle of the road. We panicked and fretted for about 5 minutes, sharing our annoyance towards the dick bus driver before getting practical and working out what to do. We ran to the closest bus station that was 10 minutes away, and managed to catch the bus that was late for its post - thank god we made it. 

By the canal

We all hugged goodbye, A. went off towards Amsterdam and I journeyed onwards to the Hague to see an old friend that was waiting for me as soon as I arrived.  The evening sweetened up as we bought some banana's from the supermarket, in preparation for one of my new favourite snacks, purely due to it's convenient preparation time - banana milkshakes! 2 banana's, a cup of milk, water or ice cream if you want, blended - done. We snuggled up in bed with our shakes, a buzz from a light spliff and breaking bad on full screen  I don't know whether it was the series itself or our mental states but there were some points of the series that were beyond ridiculous, leaving us in stitches. A bathtub full of a decomposing body falling through 2 stories because the acid used to dissolve the body dissolved through the tub and the floor - It's an entertaining series so far, I'll give it that. We fell into a 14 hour peaceful slumber - the next morning the clocks turned back, winter has officially set in, yelp!

Popeyes

The sun rose slowly and we had a lazy morning in bed watching more breaking bad, munching on scrambled eggs, and pondering what we'd do for the next few hours together. Our pro-active minds kicked in soon enough and we went off exploring the Hague on the back of my friends scooter -- free transportation still comes with a price though, as the speedometer rose, the harshness of the wind could be felt on our faces as our eyes streamed. We made our way to a beach about 10 minutes away, the wind picked up as we approached the sea but at least it was fresh air? We walked through the main shopping centre for shelter, popping into T's mums shop for a little hello and having a light coffee and a cigarette for a pause. We walked passed the buildings that were responsible for imprisoning war criminals and laying down the laws on dangerous chemicals etc. -- this country's got such a high moral standard that it made so much sense that it would be the place where crimes etc. were put in question. We returned home and T. left his bike unlocked and leaning against the wall outside his house - apparently it's safe enough to do so! Something I'm not used to at all. It makes me think how sad it is that one has to assume the worst  from people in order to take precautions. After a quick milkshake at home, I jumped on the train back to Centraal station in Amsterdam. That evening we walked to another coffee shop 'Abraxas', picking up a bag of hot chips and mayo on the way, and returning home later that night with a stick of candy floss  crisps and an apple pie - using 'I'm on holiday' to justify my unhealthy eating habits.

Street art

The days are trickling down and we're down to only 2. The next morning began with a spot of yoga, followed by another coffee shop 'Popeye'. We began with a huge breakfast, that was closely followed by a Shawarma, 2 bars of chocolate and lots of tea. I'm fascinated as to how my stomach is coping with all of this, but it'll get it's break soon. Popeye's was a laugh, one mate A. from London sat for the majority of the time squirming over the cute Scottish waitress who stood at the bar seductively licking cream off her fingers and flashing him cheeky smiles - we were entertained. I decided one thing I needed to do while in Dam was buy a winter essential, so I chose boots given that every shop we passed had about 50 pairs on offer and all for fairly reasonable prices compared to London. So I left the others and set off to choose a pair. I spent the next hour stumbling all over the shop floor, stressing out over varying prices - leather or no leather, fur or no fur, heel or no heel ah! The trip was not successful  so we went home, with the mental promise of completing the boots mission the following day. 

Street art:
"We eat the poor to feed the west"
- scary message

That evening we made a full on meal using whatever ingredients we had in our fridge, and a few others. Make-shift ratatouille was the result, with bread and salad. Followed by an chocolate and vanilla pudding! We ate our happy muffins about an hour before we started cooking, and by the time we'd finished, the giggles had kicked in. We'd set up our night, loaded Ice Age 3 on the laptop, made a delicious meal, and got into our PJ's - it was all timed perfectly for once. The idea of watching a movie is always better conceptually, as our non-stop laughing and short attention span that didn't outlive 5 minutes at a time, didn't help us understand what we were watching at all - and failed to distract us from the white/ milk chocolate ginger biscuits, apparently they're a Dutch speciality, and I see why. After we'd ploughed through a huge meal that should have left us with leftovers for at least lunch and dinner, and the vanilla and chocolate pudding AND the bag of white/ milk chocolate ginger biscuits - we were literally left immobile, struggling not to laugh as our stomachs dealt with the immense amount of food that needed to be digested, yet somehow the drive for more more more beat the pain and we finished the entire bag. Eugh.

Street performer

Self explanatory?

I waved goodbye to Amsterdam as we made our way to Eindhoven the next day, I managed to buy boots in the morning which felt like an accomplishment in itself- munching on rye bread and brie (my staples for the week) we packed everything up and left the apartment. Returning to L's home with a warm home-cooked meal awaiting us, made us smile and appreciate the little things. The next morning was a struggle, getting out of bed and beginning the stressful journey to the airport. I stood in line as everyone was checking in, watching countless people in front of me being turned away as they were too late for their flight. I find that no matter how much time you give yourself, travelling is always a stressful process. On my way to the departures gate I found myself in an 'all day breakfast' restaurant that proved as quite a distraction. But I finally made it on to the plane with no extra costs and I zoned out to my tunes with a cup of English Breakfast tea - So what have I taken with me from Amsterdam? It's beautiful canals, flat grounds and beaches. The proof of a successfully functioning city that has legalized and controlled weed consumption, and a beautiful variety of Art, from the graffiti on the walls, to the street performers, to the huge museums and galleries that are scattered all over the city. Dutch food is one thing I don't particularly warm to however, processed meats and cheeses, lots of bread with a weird variety of spreads, and fairly bland accompaniments..  But that's was a minor flaw. Right now I lie in bed on an overcast Saturday morning, snuggled up with a comfy duvet, wearing my old school hoodie with a cuppa, back 'home' in London town.

Centraal station, infront of a big old crowd ♩ ♫

Recipe of the day: Ratatouille

http://www.bbcgoodfood.com/recipes/2903/ratatouille