In a tourists shoes

T. and his cheese

I've had a few days in Amsterdam But it's all been a bit of a blur. I roamed canals, sketching the floating houseboats that drifted passed me. Checked out little market stalls selling scarves, coats and hats. Being pulled in to by the most useless things - almost coming out of the market with old tin boxes and books that I'd never read - until sense kicked in. We made our way up to the Rijksmuseum - enjoying the 30 minute walk past the bustling coffee shops, the temporary funfair in Dam square and café's. We got to the Museum centre, van Gough on my left, the contemporary art museum on my right and the closed Rijksmuseum straight ahead. We walked into the museum shop to browse through the books on artists and their work; I ended up spending half an hour reading about contemporary, political and abstract art, so I still gained a little something from the (free) visit.

Post-dying phase

Stretching the sugar

Stretching the sugar

I don't like the fact that all the museums cost money here, there's the 'hemp and marijuana museum that's €9, the sex museum that's $4 and the art museums that are all around €15. I did have a little sneak-peak into Van Gough's 3D exhibition. At the entrance before you pay for your ticket they had 3D glasses, that created the illusion of the paintings coming to life - looking at the screens was an interactive van Gough experience as you were virtually taken through 'The Yellow House', out of the window to gaze at 'Irises' and then carried up into 'The Starry Night. We couldn't decide between paying for a peep-show in the red light district or a stroll in the sex museum, but to be honest - the red light district was a full on exhibition already. You passed windows with girls of all shapes and sizes wearing kinky clothes and doing their thing inside their glass boxes. Most of them avoided eye contact with other girls but some had the confidence of queens and held their head up high no matter who walked passed. We soon decoded the lights in the windows, red meant girl and blue meant tranny - at least you got more than one option?.. I saw a 'for rent' sign in some of the rooms and after ranting about how ridiculous it was for a woman to put herself up for rent (getting into my inner feminist) a friend explained to me that the signs referred to the rooms and not the women - woops! I still did feel a pang of sympathy for them though, it was so degrading. It was though we were all in a shop, with all our options parading themselves in front of us in little glass boxes.. The only thing that reminded me that this wasn't just a tourist attractions and it was a real life set-up, were the few creepy old single men leering under the shadows, and the police who stood ready at the street corners. It has a completely different vibe here to the red light district in Thailand, that feels quite dodgy - In Holland, everything feels safe. We never made it to any of the shows that they had on offer, or the sex museum but we had our fair share of provocative entertainment. 

Goats cheese and mustard, hm

We also managed to catch a bit of Amsterdam night life - being economical teenagers we had pre-drinks at a friends apartment, huddled in the living room with glasses of wine and malibu-cokes. It was funny being the odd one out, not being able to chime into the conversation once the Dutch started kicking in. I'd have my friend L. turn to me every now and then to explain what was going on -- but it rarely matched the dialogue that they'd been speaking in my head. Watching people's body language and facial expressions as they talk I've learnt, isn't actually a great representation of what they're actually saying. For example when we were crossing the road the other day, a Dutch woman stopped her bike and said something to my friend with a smile. My response was "Oh she looked nice!" When in actual fact she'd said rather patronizingly "This is a road, yeah?" With a slightly malicious smiles, Implying that we had to move out of her way pronto, and hope she stayed smiling :s. 

Our night out in Amsterdam was fun - the walking in-between venues wasn't as our hands and feet lost all sensation, and body heat just seemed to stop generating. But the clubbing scene was great - We went to 'Paradiso', a well known club that's quite central, full of hundreds of raving teens and cheap drinks (surprisingly)! We danced till 5 in the morning before making our way back through the crisp night.

Muffins and tea!

Mexican breakfast!

Cheese fondue

Stoopwaffles

Rather hungover from the night before the alarm clock did not go down particularly well but prior commitments to see an old friend whom I hadn't caught up with in 4.5 years won, over another morning in bed. The cold does wonders in waking you up that's for sure! I was reunited with my old buddy and it didn't take long for the conversation to flow as we reminisced over our days together in Sri Lanka. One of the weirdest things though that I've found, is when you haven't seen each other in so long, the list of things to catch up on is so immense that it can be hard knowing where to begin. Sometimes new topics of conversation or just discussion of little things going on around you are easier than sifting through the ups and downs of the past. I do love the sudden flashbacks of people, places or things that haven't come to mind for years - and remembering the person you were to them and how that's changed.

We spent the day being tourists in Amsterdam. Prancing around cheese shops with hundreds of free samples, munching on stroopwaffles, watching candy being hand-made, stopping in at various coffee shops (both kinds) and restaurants for a casj Mexican breakfast and spot of fondue. It was a day of splurging, the hot chocolate that T. ordered came in the form of a wad of pure chocolate on a stick that had to be stirred into the accompanying mug of hot milk that was served with cocoa dusted chocolate almonds - I hope your mouth's watering as much as mine was. 

We later met up with other old friends from Malaysia in 'Belushi', the one coffee shop we'd found with huge black sofa's that we all lay down on as our minds rose in unison. I couldn't tell you what happened within those few hours, but it was all shits and giggles. As the clock ticked on, we unwillingly left the warmth of the coffee shop and pushed through the cold (that had dipped to -5 degrees) to the station as we struggled to keep our eyes open. We soon needed a rest so we stopped off for hot chocolate and a glass of warm wine - $3.50 per glass but so worth it, before continuing on, and eventually arriving in Leiden where I was staying for a night. After a hot shower and clean PJ's we munched on our recently purchased chocolate muffin - it made us all very happy indeed ;). The rest of the night was spent in a wake-dream state wondering where I was, realizing, and then wondering again - but it's funny that no matter where I am now, If I'm comfortable, it feels like home.

Recipe of the day: Baked breakfast burrito's
http://www.tasteofhome.com/Recipes/Baked-Breakfast-Burritos

Oh dam

Pretty Canals

Haha, hey Amsterdam

Sitting on the carpet in my friends apartment in the centre of Amsterdam I can hear the church bell tolling and feel the temperature dropping. The bell rings every 15 minutes so it just becomes light and cheery background noise after the initial irritation passes. We're conveniently situated in the centre of dam, right next to the red light district, lovely coffee shops and gorgeous art galleries so we have sex, weed and art at our doorstep, perfect getaway. I'm here staying with a girlfriend for a little break from the madness that is London. I've been surprised by a few things since I've been here 1) not many people actually speak English. The one downfall of not being bi-lingual :s, so navigating my way through platforms and stations that all had kooky names wasn't too easy - thankfully I'd been given directions, all of which were perfect except the spelling mistake of the house number '85' instead of '58'. This lead to some rather exasperating conversations with neighbours that didn't understand a thing I was saying, and those that did were telling me what I refused to accept 'there's no house number 85 around here'. But despite the slight confusion I eventually made it safe and sound. The second thing that surprises me is the not so lackadaisical attitude towards weed. I expected to walk around with fumes of spliff drifting through the air and joints casually being rolled next to the pretty canals, but as I was told by my friend yesterday, that's really not what goes on. Police roam the streets fining public smokers or people with (a rather unlikely amount) >9g in possession, and the frowned upon image of teenage stoners,  is still frowned upon. But it's a fair system that I think should be adopted by more countries, the novelty isn't present if it's so readily available, the coffee shops swarm with tourists, not locals - and the government makes money off us all! The laws are changing, but I doubt they'll last.

Bicycle traffic

Before I came to Holland all I imagined were flat grounds and copious bicycles, and the stereotype rings true! It's so lovely though, I feel a lot more inclined to move out of the way when I hear a bell ring for a bicycle to get passed me as opposed to a loud horn and a bulky convertible. It also adds to the freshness of the air - here you feel like you're actually taking in more oxygen compared to London where the air can be stifling.
Speaking of breathing I learnt an interesting fact the other day -- to 'inspire' or to breathe in, is the root of the concept of inspiration. And if you think about it, when you're inspired you take a deep breath in amazement or admiration for the person, place or thing and you therefore gain something of value. I love looking at the etymology of words, it adds a whole new layer to something that was once flat ground - a bit like Holland, ha.

The second bell just tolled and I'm rocking side to side slightly, trying to keep my eyes open in my fairly delusional state. Over the passed three weeks I don't feel like I've had 1 proper nights sleep and last night didn't help. Flights in the early hours of the morning used to excite me more than anything. Getting up when it's pitch black to go on an adventure somewhere in the world gave me butterflies. But now nothing could be worse than waking up in the cold darkness, and attempting to function well enough to catch your flight on time. I decided against having 3 hours of sleep because that groggy feeling is almost worse than not sleeping at all. And I've come to realize the danger of this - I'd be staring at a painting to realize that the painting wasn't actually spinning in circles around me but when my eyelids had closed for the last blink in-between my nonsensical thoughts, had lasted longer than a few minutes and I was now dreaming. I managed this by setting an alarm every half an hour, much to the annoyance of whoever was sitting next to me but sacrifices had to be made. So now the endless days of not giving my body its 8 hours of sleep is catching up with me, and by 6pm, or after a puff on a joint, my eyes are droopier than the image to the right..

An old friend!

I had to slightly gather myself together and make an effort to socialize with a friend that I hadn't seen in a few months - he introduced me to my first coffee shop, that was by far the best - "Relax" (Binnen Oranjestraat 91013 HZ). I walked in and was sucked into the trip - crystals growing out of the tables, trippy colours and paintings all over the walls and images of eyes made out of beautiful stained glass. I enjoyed the experience while it was still a novelty, it was the strangest thing ordering weed from a menu over the counter and it being OK! You literally choose your strains off a menu, and a communal vibe of rolling and smoking. Looking around me as my head was floating into space I held onto the crystal to ground me and ensure my whole body didn't float off. It was so strange looking around me and wondering whether everyone else was feeling the same when their external appearance looked 100% normal.. besides the red, droopy eyes and the giggles. 

Pies..

It didn't take too long before our stomachs were rumbling and we made our way to the only English food joint that I knew in the area 'Pieminister' - I've figured out the reason why McDonalds, Starbucks etc etc are all so succesful are because no matter where you are, you always know what to expect of the ambiance, the menu, the music etc. it's always guaranteed so it makes people feel comfortable and 'at home'. That's how I felt in the pieminister, surrounded by Dutchies but yumming down a spinach, sundried tomatoes and feta pie with mushy peas and gravy made me feel right at home :) -- Mm so far Amsterdam, you've served me well. 



Recipe of the day: Feta, tomato and spinach pie 

http://www.bbcgoodfood.com/recipes/4540/crispy-greekstyle-pie-

Cradles and coins

At the moment I'm sitting in front of a lovely 4 month old piece of innocence, who I look after once every few days. It's a nice time to have a breather amidst the running around with silver trays and hot food. Playing peek-a-boo and waving around rattles luckily doesn't require too much exertion. The other day I was lying on the sofa feeding her a bottle - it's funny watching babies when they feed, their eyes roll back slightly as they enter this entranced state of pure ecstasy  interrupt this trance and you're done for. Her eyes slowly started drooping and I was sucked in to her dream-world as we both dozed together on the sofa, to be awoken 20 minutes later by a wriggle/ cue for a nappy change. It was a sweet site while it lasted - I told my dad about this and he raised his eyebrows slightly, concerned at the thought of his 18 year old daughters maternal instincts kicking in already.

Bonding time

One of the reasons I partly love babysitting is the fact that my boss is not a complete power-obsessed asshole.  Both parents are lovely, easy to be around and won't flip their lid if you walk in the door 5 minutes past the hour. This being a 'slight' contrast to the other bosses I seem to have acquired over the months. One, as I've ranted about before is a manic egotistical coke-head that's huungry for power. His demands strike a balance between being pointless and irritating but passively complying to them is the only way to avoid the storm. One waitress, well former waitress, had strong alpha female qualities and wasn't afraid to voice her opinion as and when it was needed - this, to his great frustration was a quality that he believed 'challenged his authority' and for no appropriate reason, her shifts were cut to nothing - so she left. On one hand, she lost a job, but on the other, she's escaping the Friday nights of sprinting around on tip-toes trying to avoid a conflict that would most likely end in streams of tears and low self-esteem. Watching him as he's in his element of rage is scary - his ego inflates to fill every space in the room, and his eyes flicker with enjoyment at having asserted his authority in whatever way possible. One of my colleagues describes it as 'soul-destroying' having someone constantly putting you down, but I've developed the technique of mind over matter. As he's looming over me, red in the face from shouting about how I need to take a tables order faster than they can give it to me (does that make no sense to you too?) my eyes slightly glaze over and I retreat to my thoughts. This causes his rage-o-meter to hit new heights as his desired reaction of trembling in fear isn't created.

That sultry stare

My second boss is only a few years older than me and doesn't have many admirers either. She goes from being a sweet and 'relatable' peer to lacking any charm or personal skills. I stood back from the table I'd just lain  - it had a ridiculous number of different knives, forks, glasses, flowers etc but it made me smile knowing I could put something like that together in 10 minutes and make it look pretty good. Boss woman walks over to the table and wipes away the perfectly lain cutlery infront of the first chair, demonstrating 'what will happen when someone sits down if the knives aren't pushed up half an inch further', pushing people around just.because.she.could. It's funny how status seems to affect the psychi so much. How people think it gives you the one-up and therefore allows you to be disrespectful and rude.
There are so many ways to go about having horrible bosses, you can passively accept the 'abuse' (yes, that may be a slight exaggeration)  or you can stand up for yourself. The thing is, by standing up for yourself you may get your point across, but then what? You get fired and replaced with a snap of fingers and no regrets. As nice as it would be to have violins playing, a box of chocolates and a huge apology - it's just not what happens in the real world and some just have to be put up with. My thoughts are, if it's only a few months - deal with it and make as much cash as possible, shit happens.

Street art in Aldgate East

During my down time I decided at the beginning of this year that it'd be a good time to catch up on all those thought-provoking books, documentaries and series that were always put off for 'free time'. The 'free time' in my head never really ends up happening - there's never a casual day with no to-do list or prior engagement, but somehow I keep thinking a week of having nothing to do will spontaneously present itself. So instead I've been watching bits and reading bobs in instalments  so they happen, but over a stretch. I just achieved the feat of completing a 3 hour inspirational movie 'Zeitgeist 3' - the inconvenient length meant that it took me over 2 weeks to finish it, but it was definitely worth the watch. The movie's basically about the earth's present state in terms of economics and development - and where we're heading if we continue at this pace. It talks about the illuminate - the individuals that own all the banks and major companies hence basically controlling the whole economy/ the population/ us. There's a long section on the monetary system and it's meaningless cycle - we pay into banks that don't really own the money in the first place, this same money is then sold, shared and borrowed - the game eggs on the desire for power and control and all sight of the true welfare of the individuals involved, is lost. This is a brief sentence that sums up a very detailed concept explained in the movie, watch it if you're interested (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ex8U_4rJn4s).
Two of the biggest things I extracted from that 3 hours was 1) The idea that a rising GDP is inverse to efficiency -- We're taught that the more money a country can earn, the better lifestyles and standards we as humans can have. However this documentary shows that in order for a product to be successful  it has to have a limited life span for consumers to keep buying it, hence nothing is built or created on the basis of being 100% efficient, because it wouldn't be in the interest of the producer.
Many examples were used to demonstrate the destructive properties of the monetary system, one such was crime rates and violence - and the root cause behind over 90% of this? Inequality between rich and poor, and the need to have money whether it's through drugs, stealing or killing - the vicious cycle and the unhealthy focus being ultimately self-destructive.

The venus project

They lightened the mood slightly after all of these fairly depressing facts and figures came out, by focusing on how we can change our world. They came up with 2) 'The Venus Plan' that's been in development for a long time, it's a circular designed system of living that wouldn't require money at all. The centre of the society would be run by technology that would monitor sustainability and productivity - there would be education systems, natural food supplies, methods of transportation etc. and we as individuals would be able to exchange services and abilities and focus on our more creative sides. (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ex8U_4rJn4s) Now I don't know if I particularly like the idea of our society being run by technology  but given that humans don't have the objective ability to create anything that truly focuses on the welfare of the collective, maybe it's a good alternative. Changing the system that we live in isn't something that's possible overnight but the awareness being raised on what we're actually taking part in, is important to spread.

Autumn

So aside from trying to keep my brain fairly active, I'm currently planning and booking various flights for my gap year. I've taken part in many persuasive conversations about why I should move away from my comfort zone of Asia and venture into South America instead - and it's funny how fear of the unknown pulls you away from trying new things. But I've finally created a brief brainstorm of what I'm going to do and my mind's at ease.
I'm off to Amsterdam next week, so buckling down at work before I lose the majority of my brain cells on the flat grounds of the Netherlands. The weekends seem to whizz by, but don't they always? Yesterday I utilized the brief spot of Sunday sunshine and went for a stroll in our local park. I walked past the playground and thought about how much it had evolved over the years - The swings I'd been taught to swing on when I was 5, were still there. I could hear my mum and babysitter saying over and over again 'Legs out, lean back. Legs back, lean forward!' - and then after weeks of practise finally accomplishing what seemed like an impossible feat. The long brown slide used to be positioned by the monkey bars, it's now been replaced (due to the number of injuries) by a plastic twirly kid-friendly looking object that claims to be a slide too :s.

As I was walking out of the park the wind was causing little hurricanes of orange leaves along the path and the squirrels were running in and out of them with conkers or peanuts grasped in their little mouths. I walked passed a mother and child and we linked eyes and shared a smile. 5 minutes later I walked passed another woman with a stern, bitter look on her face - hoping to break her shell I smiled at her too, but only managed to get the response of a hard stare and pursed lips - I guess Sunday's don't mean the same to everyone.
The baby just opened her eyes and gurgled - bottle time!


Recipe of the day: Moroccan lamb burgers (Had these at GBK the other day, they're amazeballs.)

http://www.jamieoliver.com/recipes/lamb-recipes/moroccan-style-lamb-burgers

Stepping stones

Early autumn

After a tragic event has occurred the phrase 'moving on' is tossed around a lot, stepping onto the next stone despite how unpredictably wobbly it is -- but how long is that process supposed to take? What is the time bracket one's given before things start to get slightly easier? I've always found, with regards to the 'big black spots' (the darker events in your life that made a significant impact on your reality today), normality and growth only comes from acceptance, and acceptance is spurred on by talking about what happened. Something a friend said to me a few years ago that I'll always remember for its concise honesty - "everyone has shit going on, and everyone thinks their shit is the worst". And isn't that true? Of course relativism plays a role, and we only really have our lives to compare our 'shit' to - but in the grander scheme of things, we're probably a lot better off than many others.

Eva in the park - I love the innocence of kids

By getting out of your own head, where your mind has the power to turn the bat of a butterflies wing into a hurricane, you're able to 'move on' - in relation to the tragic experience I'm talking about, this means talking about my beloved uncle, his death and his life that many people seem to leave out. This applies to all tragedies, why hang onto the final few seconds of darkness, when the long and prosperous life that lead up to it serves for far more topics of conversation.

--
What I find fairly dangerous is that comforting feeling of dwelling in your own pool of grief, the 'poor-me' scenario that you need to pull yourself out of, especially when there are others more deeply affected than you - time to stop being selfish. It's actually comforting sharing the hurt with others.

I'm sitting on beanbags underneath my windowsill - it's beautiful today. I'm learning about London, I always had the impression that leading up to winter everything would become grey, wet and miserable. But the sun still shines! The temperature drops and the parks are no longer full of hundreds of people in their bikini's, having picnics or playing rounders and footie - but instead a more gentle approach to life begins, warm coats and flushed cheeks, babies wrapped up in blankets and the appreciation of a warm bed. Given, I am slightly afraid of turning into an ice-cube come Christmas but we'll deal with that when we get there. 

The phantom house

My routine's up and down now but my regular dabble in yoga maintains a level of stability amongst the chaos. Interestingly a lot of people I know are starting to find meditation, astro-projection and all those far-out concepts that don't get enough credit. I was standing at the train-station the other day thinking about that stability. Yoga to me, was essentially a pause - an escape from the buzz of reality to clear your head and get in touch with yourself free of distractions. Now I'm learning the importance of applying your escape to your reality. In meditation you're taught to just heighten your awareness, your senses - you hear what's around you, feel your surroundings, taste the presence and smell the now. But that should always happen - it's so easy to slip into your own zone when walking down the street, stuck in your thoughts rather than understanding what's happening everywhere at that moment. The lights of the train shone through the darkness and I looked up to see a white house peeping above the stone archway that framed the approaching train. The way the sun hit the white wall almost turned it into a phantom house - momentary awareness. 

I know it's cliché, but at least it's authentic?
Devon 2012

After having spoken to a lot of my friends, I've found lots of people doubt their ability to meditate or focus, so without sounding patronizing can I just say it's ok to find it difficult to hold that focus no matter how long you have done it for. When I close my eyes I first have to get over the 'thought barrier'. Under this invisible line are a million thoughts ramming into each other, 'breakfast this morning, booking flights, oyster cards, money, work, food' the list goes on. But above the buzz it's more of a clear white haze that doesn't require concentration
. 

Enough of the mystical - Saturday's beginning and I still have no sense of time. When you leave 'school-mode' and enter 'work-mode' weekends lose their meaning. A 14 hour shift on a Friday's one to dread, and a Monday's a walk in the park. Today's topsy turvy, and to get to the end you've just got to take the step and try not to get wet. 

Recipe of the day: Autumn cherry samosas (I was surprised when I saw this recipe too.. but so worth it)
http://www.fnfoods.co.uk/recipes/recipe-cherry-samosas.html

The monster in the closet

Most people live their lives in a seemingly monotonous way, we have our routines and schedules - society shapes what we do whether it's attending school, sitting in an office or handing out fliers. Of course there's leeway and space for choice but ultimately it's all pre-determined unless we decide to fly completely off the tracks and disregard the laws that have been created for us, resulting in being given a label like 'insane', of course there are institutions for that 'condition' as well. The point of this rant is that when life throws things at you that are out of the blue, that bump you out of auto-pilot mode and cause you to actively change course or process whatever card you've been dealt, it makes us more alive again.

Uncle P I found you on google!

Today I received an incredibly daunting whatssap from my dad before our weekly skype chat (scheduled due to time difference): 'I have some bad news.' It's interesting how at those moments you suddenly understand the difference between thinking with your heart and your head. I felt like I was being gripped and my bodily response was 'all signals alert' as I sat at my computer with a furrowed brow, slowly pressing down the green 'answer call' button with shaking fingers to engage in a conversation that I knew would leave me in tears. 

My uncle Patrick Sandeman passed away today, the family had been wondering who would tell me before I saw it across the news on TV. He always lived on the edge hence his passion in skydiving. A few hours ago a fluke collision occurred between himself and another skydiver causing him to die on impact, hopefully in a moment of complete exhilaration and excitement after having had three amazing kids, a loving marriage and a successful career. My thoughts and tears today go out to them all. 

The conversation I had with my family over skype was an hour of no ego, all defences down. The importance of all the small things that we'd quibble about or discuss, the little worries like money or what time I was getting to bed every night lost their significance and everyone just sat shaking their heads, with red puffy eyes and wet cheeks. The image sounds depressing but it was really a moment of understanding and awakening.

My uncle :)
http://uk.news.yahoo.com/tribute-skydiving-plunge-victim-053009777.html

I don't like the idea that life requires certain ups and downs to appreciate things or to keep yourself in check. One rarely pays full appreciation to life until they experience the pain of dealing with a death, the feeling of love isn't appreciated until the pain of heartbreak has been felt and a great night out isn't enjoyed unless there are a few bad ones to compare it to. But having those episodes and moments that we don't ask for or expect, or have planned out in our leather-back diaries, those episodes keep us alive and aware.

I woke up this morning moaning about the cuts on my back that stung when the water hit them in the shower. That was the worst thing going on in my life at that moment, but now it doesn't seem to matter and is at the bottom of my worry list-- Unfortunately today the monster in the closet made the children scream and not laugh but the family's unifying and the pillars are forming for those most deeply affected, to support them through this time of tragedy.


Tea of the day: Vanilla-earl grey (the tea for sadness)
http://www.teamotionstea.com/blog/?page_id=20

The smoke that blushed

Street art I found in East London

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

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

East London again

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

.. And again

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

Street art in Neasden

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

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

- Cameron Krokatsis 

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

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


 Recipe of the day: Fairy Cakes

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

Crazy Camden

Amy at large

So my main income at the moment is trickling in from a little Tapaz bar situated just outside the heart of Camden. Walking up the high street you see an eclectic bunch to say the least, big punk/ goth scene, lots of piercings, knee-high black boots with metal projections scattered all over the place. Piercings everywhere, pink, blue and purple hair - it's like entering an episode of futurama. You also have the rasta's, yellow red and green flags, hats with fake dreads and walk into any shop along the high street to take your pick from a variety of bongs, pipes and other smoking devices (not to mention the potent 'skunk' and hallucinagenic 'legal' mushrooms sold over the counter supposedly imported from Amsterdam, but full of perfectly healthy artificial chemicals instead). There are other looks out here but those two are probably the most eye catching.

Up the high street

The vibrancy in Camden is undeniable, the crib of Whinehouse and countless other carefree souls - I walked through 'Camden Lock' the other day, past all the food: Jamaican, Indian, Chinese and Moroccan stalls (that each had sneaky tasters to munch on along the way). Colourful motorbikes were lined up in rows and had been turned into seats and tables to eat at while gazing over the lazy canal. I stood on the edge of the bridge and leaned over the side for a breather, water always seems to have a calming effect. In yoga the belief is water cleanses your aura - and think about it, it makes sense. A shower first thing wakes you up, jolting your sleep-ridden aura with a flash of hot or cold and before bed, the stress of the day is cleansed aswell. There are specific times that it's believed one should 'bathe', and specific temperatures of water. For example, it's believed to be best to shower as the sun rises, in tune with your natural body cycle as our pineal gland responds to light cues and releases the hormone melatonin that naturally wakes us up and puts us to sleep in conjunction with various other hormones and glands. So a cold shower as the sun rises is most beneficial as it rejuvinates the cells and closes the pores, putting you in 'alert and awake' mode as opposed to starting the day feeling drowsy after a nice hot shower. To be fair, living in a cold country, where getting out of bed isn't the most exciting prospect, cold showers may not be the best idea, sending you into a state of hypothermia especially during the winter months. I've grown up swimming aswell and yes, it may feel the same with every sport, but after a good session in the pool your whole mind and body feels completely purified. It could have something to do with the fact that the colour of water (blue) corresponds with the colour of our third eye chakra located between the eyes that's responsible for your intuition and is the primary focus during meditation. Each chakra corresponds to a different colour, and by wearing/ surrounding yourself with that colour you serve to 'expand' if you will, the powers/ properties that the chakra holds. So a dip in the pool may do more thank you think! A lot of my friends think of 'chakra talk' as airy fairy, but this incredible youtube video called 'spirit science' will explain exactly what I mean in scientific terms, for all you logical left brained folk (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oLFlJSlD4YM)

Rastafari

But back to Camden:
One of my great girlfriends is in Barcelona at the moment having a crazy time in a crazy youth hostel that never sleeps - and a hot topic of conversation during these summer months, is flings/ romances, just boys in general. I've been given the same piece of advice numerous times on this topic 'go for someone at work', now let's go through the choices that my lovely Tapaz Bar has to offer - A coke head, bitter divorcee's with kids, or pervy Thai chefs. A strange combo or what? Let me fill in the gaps -
My boss is a wide eyed, bald headed, tall, fit and intimidating man who 'used' to have a huge coke addiction. There would literally be white mountains in the downstairs kitchen for a quick sniff 'inbetween-service breaks' resulting in a manic and highly confident restaurant owner. Due to his natural manic and wide eyed nature, none of the customers could tell, but the behind-the-bar gurning (jaw grinding) and the constant eye twitches were noticable enough. In his 40's he's not as 'addicted' per say and brushes it off as a fun few youthful years. But his coked-up nature means no one questions his unfair method of paying our wages (that is dependant on his sporadic mood swings - if he's happy, so are we, if he's not, the pay resembles what you'd find in a hobo's wallet. - but we get something, so we don't complain.) So there's the boss, and as it's a family run business, his nephew (depressed divorcee with 2 kids who lives above the restaurant and will probably still be there in 40 years time), sister (also from a broken family, but the loveliest of them all) and brother in law (one of the many pervy thai chefs) all work alongside him, and hate.his.guts. Literally, the moment he walks out of the room it turns into a full on bitch session with everyone chiming in and saying their part - it's quite entertaining to be honest. The moment he steps back in, it's all halo's and angel wings.

Another big blogger - 'the rock and roll Camden bride'

One of the waiters, who no one particularly warms to, (though I seem to have cracked his bitter shell and seen his soft side which isn't half-bad when he lifts out of his cold-hard comfort zone) has been working at the restaurant for the entire 30 years it's been open. Ironically he went to school with the boss, and was the wealthy kid who grew up in Chelsea, while boss-man grew up in the dodgy side of south London - didn't turn out to foreshadow their future professions. He's divorced from a drug addict who he hates with a passion, has 2 kids and works as a sandwich man, a chauffeur and a waiter all part time, and purely to earn money to survive - with no hint of love or passion for what he does whatsoever only adding to his bitter list of things to complain about (that we get to hear about every day, woop!)
And lastly the chef's, they're lovely really; it may just be my naivity, but they cook me amazing food and teach me Thai so I don't complain. It's when the comments like 'let me take a picture of you' and 'I love you' start rolling in that I become slightly more weary of what I'm getting into. There are 4 of us waitresses, I'm the baby of them all but we all get a long really well and have a laugh about the men we've landed ourselves with. Each of us have a secret admirer, J was chosen by the depressed divorcee/ nephew of the boss - all of us egg him on just for the fun of it. E was chosen by the cleaner from the Congo who's a Jahova's witness and constantly going on about his 'brothers and sisters' from the church and lecturing us on the dangers of alcohol and tobacco. L was chosen by the sweetest Thai chef Max, who doesn't speak a word of english but spends his days smiling away washing dishes and helping us with the laborious task of ice cream scooping. I've landed myself the head chef - quick life summary: Married to a  crazy Thai woman, has 2 kids, very good looking, gave up drinking and smoking but still a huge gambler - and cooks amazing food. If it wasn't for the family situation and the fact that he's 20 years older than me, he'd be up for consideration - but for now, getting great food and the odd compliment doesn't sit too badly - the pervy grins and comments are just something i'll have to deal with.

This is what customers see. Behind the scenes
is a whoole different ball game

Last Friday J and I had a double shift together (13.5 hours of running up and down stairs with plates of food and glasses), the running wasn't so bad, it was more dealing with the bosses constant drone and finicky requests, sharing the pain with someone definitely made it easier - what's nice about working with this bunch is we get offered copious amounts of amazing wine (wine education - what a bonus! Got my cocktail-party talk down), and since I only need half a glass to knock me out, my waitressing experiences have become slightly more exciting, and blurry. Given, I do get slightly clumsier (demonstrated by the various trays of glasses I've managed to drop as a result of tripping over my own feet...), but customers suddenly seem more interesting and the banter picks up. The Asian glow isn't a great look though - so I tend to stick outside in the garden, shaded inconspicuously by the overhanging trees. But anyway, on Friday we were given our usual glasses of wine, and were planning on going out for drinks after work anyway, so it seemed a perfect time for pre's - by the end of the shift I was talking nonsense and spinning around between the tables in circles, J was laughing at me uncontrollably, trying to polish wine glasses, the boss was downstairs in the walk-in, gurning like a machine, as was the bitter waiter S. What made the scene even more bizarre, was the bosses unsuspecting 16 year old nephew who was sitting like a cherub with all of us, cleaning the coffee machine, completely unaware of the intoxicated crowd surrounding him. The rest of the night followed suit and our heads entered into the blurry Friday night buzz of Camden - the morning-after-thumping that only I could hear, was not as pleasant.
I um'd and ah'd about mentioning my crazy workplace to my parents, expecting the defensive response of 'get out of there as soon as possible', but to my surprise, my mum replied with 'my ex-boss was a coke addict too!' And my dad gave me the seemingly obvious advice of 'don't accept any if you're offered, it will change the dynamic completely'. This 'being-treated-like-an-adult' thing is still something I'm getting used to, but the level of respect on the parent-child relationship scale has been bumped up a notch.

Our boss, to a T.

So that's my part-time life at the moment, i've let go of the reigns a little, and take waitressing in my stride instead of thinking of it as a strain just to get through.
My honey-soya chicken is sitting in the oven and the smell has dispersed into every corner of the room, i'm absolutely ravenous and can't wait for dinner. (Little side-note, lack of sleep decreases the amount of Leptin in your body - the hormone responsible for inhibiting your hunger drive - hence no sleep basically leads to uncontrollable munch - an experience I've found myself dealing with a bit too much as of late.) Mm, the timer just buzzed.


Recipe of the day: Baked soya, honey chicken with rice and salad 
http://allrecipes.com/recipe/baked-asian-style-honey-chicken/