Pretapretapretapretapretapretapretapretapreta

I’m sat here in the North Terminal, chomping on my Pret salad (consisting only of vegetables and grains, costing £4.50 takeaway price) and feeling a little ill. Gatwick is buzzing. People are, and are from, everywhere. But it makes me sick. We collectively sit mindlessly, unconsciously, unthinkingly getting on with our lives. Some are trying to validate their exciting existence with a getaway. Some are going home, and others are going on business trips. We always have an agenda. An external reason or purpose to do or to go.

Perhaps it could [and should?] be seen as a beautiful process. The extreme efficiency to pick, pay and eat lunch in a matter of minutes. We live in an era of convenience. Strife is to be avoided. Shortcuts always to be taken. Does this promote self-development? What do parents try and set up for our children? No bumps. Then those molehills inflate to fucking mountains when not met early on.

I suddenly have an urge escape into the Portuguese forest. I want to take Jean Mi, a doggie, a million books and take this time to be by myself. Yoga, nature, good food, my love, my life. Simplicity.

What if my corporate lifestyle robs me of my romantic understanding of “true life” and imposes upon me its draconian clockwork process? What if I forget? What if I am brainwashed?

What if I am currently brainwashed?

Sometimes, life feels too overwhelming. I am overwhelmed by the disagreements in my head. Juxtaposed. Like cheap pick’n’mixes; bric-a-bracs of chicken thoughts. Incomplete and abandoned. I want to live one way, yet I accept another. I BELIEVE ALL. I don’t believe in nothing.

My mind is jumping. My heart is flipping. My stomach wrenches and I feel sick.

Human Realisations

When I pass a dog, I try my very best to make eye contact; cajoling them as they let me inch a little bit closer.

When I pass a human, I try my very best to avoid eye contact; ensuring that I have not awkwardly acknowledged their existence.

The world could be an intimate playground if we greeted each other as animals do. I had a few realisations about the human race in my short one night stay at a hostel in Copenhagen. The boys went off for a cycle, and I decided to have an adventure of my own.

One: Boys are scum. Most of them.They only chat to you with an interest to get in your pants. I had to prove JM’s existence with a photo (not one, two) to a cocky Dutch man. ‘So, judging from the fact you have a boyfriend, you’re into tall blonde men?’ ‘Yes … my boyfriend.’

Two: The majority of conversations are male dominated. And misogynistic. Numerous times they passed stories describing women (celebrity or previously dated) for being hot and nothing else. Completely dulling women to objects to look at and to hump.

Three: Women are shy. Act shy? Lack interest? Lack hobbies? All the women I met today were meek and lacked passion. For anything. Comparatively, I came off as an alpha female. Cocky. Domineering. A dyke, with my new haircut? A bitch? My confidence had inklings of discomfort as I reflected upon the impressions I left.

—

Written 12 hours later:

“Law of attraction”

To recap, ’twas an awful yesterday spent with an acquaintance, and rounded off with a vile evening mingling with soulless zombies. However, I had a magical today! I was expecting to leave the hotel just after breakfast. I had had enough of mindless small chat. It was a good experiment, though. It was a good challenge, though. The night was a miserable sleep, too. I reckon it would’ve been fine today, to be fair. I think that I needed one day getting accustomed to it. Anyway, I lacked a little bit of sleep, and ate breakfast alone whilst trying to wake up. One last attempt at making friends, I decided.

I sat myself next to a tall lad and a blonde woman with a Kanken. I got into the convo by complimenting her bag (stealth) and ended up going with her to Christiania. We hung out the whole day, got to know each other a little bit, and just felt really relaxed being around her. I was happy to give Christiania another go. I was happy to chat to people, to play with dogs, to drink some juice, to soak in the feeeeeeeeeeeels. Having pushed my train later, I felt a bit anxious keeping Janet waiting. I always feel guilty about not letting people know if they want to know. I decided to leave Xtiania earlier once I decided that enough chilling was enough. I left my matey, and walked home alone.

During my walk, I felt anxious. It’s a feeling of uneasiness of being alone, of being without JM, specifically. I was thinking to myself, actually, that I wanted to feel this feeling of loneliness. I wanted to indulge in it; as I want to sometimes (not frequently) indulge in sleeplessness or hunger. It’s almost like a challenge to myself and my senses. As I edged closer towards my hostel, I felt more confident as I began to understand my emotions. I arrived and met someone, still umm’ed and ahh’ed about what to do. Bumped into Alex and Javier; two hilarious Londoners of the age of 30. After getting our free dinner (little bit o’ pasta and mushrooms), we decided to go for a smorrebord. We just clicked. I was in stitches all meal.

I didn’t want to leave, and checked for a spare bed. None free. The decision was done for me. Off to home I go.

Decisiveness. Not feeling obligated towards imaginary boundaries. Understanding which friends are important, and which are not. Gaging priorities. Chilling out. Living without time restrictions.

Graham’s theory of ‘clicking with someone’.

The dream of self sustainability.

True love.

Youth.

….and I never want to cook again.

Hilarious. After dreaming of how to cook healthy Victoria Sponge Cake recipes, the perfect Lemon Drizzle, succulent fish curries and then carrying it out… I’m done. I’m so so so done with cooking and baking. Unfortunately, it was due to the overload of cake-baking I had done in 2 days. In the space of 12 hours, I had baked 3 cakes.

The first granola batch were such a success that I wanted to try a new one. I did. And they’re awesome.

The first brownie batch were such a success that I wanted to try another healthier dessert. Spirulina seed bars. Not such a success. I originally used a recipe that consisted purely of honey, oats, spirulina and seeds (did I put in nuts? I don’t even remember). This resulted in a sickly sweet taste that did not want to go down my tummy, and so I decided to fix it by adding buckwheat puffs and oats to ‘distribute’ the taste. Nein, they don’t stick anymore. Last resort; add dates (oops, too many. Of course I did) into the mix to change the taste. Lovely. Now they’re too sticky…and probably too sugary…let’s add a dash of pecans. Perfection – or not? Too full to even try them, and their green colour does not help the appeal-factor. 

Victoria Sponge Cake 1. Thinly spread cream and jam to try and make it as ‘healthy as possible’. Tried out strawberry tart which lacked all sugar and taste (such a shame, it looked a beauty). Darnen healthy recipes. What do we expect? I love it, though. decide to keep it and freeze it. 
Not good enough for the public, though. Not for the picnic. Decide to create a new spongecake in the morning, which takes around 30 minutes. Record time. I had made the previous two cakes at the same time; in an hour.

The aim of this cookin’ fad was to cook more savoury food. Hello to this beautiful sweet potato, onion, red pepp and spinach frittata (i.e. fancy omelette). Hello to a tart fennel salad, a wholesome broccoli and ginger soup, a filling Keralan fish curry.

And now, I put my cutlery, my packs of nuts, my blender and my broom AWAY.

Do you ever get that fleeting feeling…

…to do something impulsive?

Perhaps jumping on that boat going nowhere, fulfilling that floating foundation which we call life.

Building a home with your bare hands.

Cycling for days to indulge in the rhythmic movement of your legs carrying you forwards across plains, roads, cities, countries; the world.

Escaping your nest to live somewhere completely foreign…an isolated adventure.

I always make excuses. I’ve got a ‘great’ job offer, I don’t have my own financial standing at the moment, I have Jean-Mi, I am injured, I’m scared of being alone, I’ve already travelled, I can’t speak the language, my family won’t approve, I’ll miss my friends, how will I dance?, how will I recover?, how will I eat?, how can I settle? how how can’t can’t can’t I no no no…

Who knows what I even want at this moment? I secretly hope that I don’t get the visa so that I am forced to do something extreme and awesome. Like to go live in Beirut, or Shanghai, and finally fulfil my dream of multilingualism. Or, that could make me succumb back to the Dubai cocoon where I can make money and regress back into my childhood state of mind. All without JM. Oh no. And the wonderful house that I could share with Christine, Pree and JM. And the wonderful experience that is London. The opportunity to learn in this job which can basically set me up for the years ahead. Set me up? In what sense? Do I even want to learn those skills? Of being a Performance Improvement consultant? What even IS that?

3 days and more will unfold.

Goin’ on a cooking craze

In my house-bound state of unlimitless time, I have decided I need to learn how to cook. Properly.

I mean, I’m a bona fide food fiend. Healthy foods, especially.

However, it’s difficult to cook in Dubai. My maid is extremely territorial of the kitchen and chases us out whenever we start poking our noses in there. I’ve grown up alien from the kitchen. Now, as I recover and rehab in the Hurst’s household, I have full reign of the kitchen. I also warn you that I don’t take great pictures, and I probably won’t try and kid you that I do. They’re lol-worthy unfiltered pics from my Gold Apple iPhone (which has survived the jungles of Cambodia and the beaches of the Philippines). Nein, the photo-taking is not the point of these posts so just enjoy them sympathetically 🙂

First were these delicious granola bars. I mixed 2 different recipes but mostly drew from the one included. I have a habit of reading at least 20 recipes of the same thing, and then mixing it for the ‘best possible recipe’. I think this results in a waste of time, but it’s my habit to do this with EVERYTHING. I feel like I interpolate the worst and the best to arrive, truly, at the best possible answer. The best hostel to stay in. The best place to eat. The best music for tonight. The best movie to watch. Tabs and tabs, open to annoy you OCD people out there.

Anyway! This was nice and easy to make – I initially made it without any honey and nut butter but decided it was too tasteless when plain. They did not turn out as crunchy as I thought – are they supposed to be crunchy or chewy?

Next up were these gorgeous brownies which were PERFECT. My god. They taste like real brownies – and they’re GOOD (well, as good as chocolate can be…) for you. I originally made the icing (pictured) without adding the sugar to make it ‘fluffier’. This was on account of me being lazy, and also thinking i could cut out sugar and have all the great taste. After spreading and sprinkling, I decided that it would be better to do it ‘properly’. I scooped everything out and re-did the icing – and I’m glad I did! I know this says a lot about my personality… I’m a dishevelled whirlwind.

I was dying to make a hummus, but ended up making these crunchy delights. I used the Comptois Libanais cookbook for this. I totally ‘messed’ up. Again, my tornado tempo made me add 1 TBSP instead of 1TSP of the spices. I solved this by adding an extra tin of chickpeas. 30 minutes post grilling in the oven resulted in soggy chickpeas, which I thought was the desired outcome. Jean-mi didn’t seem too keen. I decided to take a chance and stick them back in the oven (after a Google search). Some details which I learned along the way:

1. Drain chickpeas. Rinse then. DRY THEM.
2. Read tsp vs. tbsp. Differentiate.
3. Don’t be scared of burning these little babies. Keep them in there for 40 minutes. 50 if needed.

Amy and JM gobbled these up in 10 minutes flat.

 This isn’t cooking at all, but I think it’s too good not to share! I’ve been drinking loads of sparkling water with lemons, but decided to add a little twist to some still water. Yesterday, I mixed lemons, raspberries and blueberries. Today, some mint and berries. I freeze the berries so they’re like little ice-cubes 🙂 Super refreshing drink to have whilst reading in the garden!

Instability

It’s 10 days post surgery, and the recovery timeline is phenomenal. I should be feeling like this a month post surgery. Instead, I was up and walking 2 days after surgery; although I limited it to mainly being on my back for a week until I saw Mr. Hardy. I felt like i didn’t need crutches, didn’t need to be on my back all the time, and had no pain whatsoever. I stopped taking all my medication by Day 3. I had full ROM by Day 3 as well. I could easily do all my exercises – heel slides, quad tenses, leg raises. The only thing that worried me is a lump which began to form as I tensed my quads – and it went away as I relaxed. Almost like a pulsating golf ball under the layer of skin. This then hardened to a constant lump being present underneath the incisions. Worried, I rang Mr. Hardy twice to ask about it; and he reassured me that it was all fine. What a professional and absolute joy of a doctor to have!

Post week 1, I’ve started going for walks (30 min to an hour!). I’m yet to see my physiotherapist, and I’d like to start on the bike ASAP. I find it a little difficult to get myself active and clear-headed. i feel like i’m more productive in Dubai. Although, I’ve been quite undisciplined ever since hanging out with Shani – which is a good thing in that I’m actually chilling and living a little, rather than living in my regimented notion of productivity.

A few days ago, I was informed that my work visa had been rejected a second time. I’m in the process of finding other opportunities. Thanks a lot, EY

ACL Day 1

The surgery went well, according to Hardy. It’s been a month of meeting consultants, reading medical papers and trying to decipher what the best solution would be for my poor knee.

Hardy says that I have a complex medial meniscal tear which is the greater issue than the ruptured ACL. I won’t return to dance or high impact dance for 2 years, he says. It seems to be differing opinions; no squatting past 120 degrees for 2 years….who knows.

The operation went smoothly – I was wheeled into the theatre and a sedative was injected through the veins in my wrist. Before I knew it, I was waking up again. Apparently, I had babbled a lot at the doctors, I even tried setting Mr. Hardy’s son up with someone. I really hope I didn’t say anything else too embarrassing.

After surgery, I was wheeled into my room and I couldn’t move my lower body at all. They had injected a spinal nerve block into me, which was actually pretty horrible and annoying. I wanted so badly to move my legs, and couldn’t even pee. My bladder bloated and filled up and I tried my very best to pee into the bedpan. Sonia, my nurse, was Portuguese with a load of chutzpah. She really helped my recovery and I wish I had her throughout the night.

JM left at around 9pm. Poor thing must’ve been exhausted; we arrived at the hospital at 5.30am and slept very late the night before. I had a morphine injection at around 7pm. It definitely helped with the pain, but it made me feel queasy when I stood up. This resulted in the bedpan spilling twice – which resulted in me having to stand and wait for the sheets to be changed. I woke up a couple of times at night; went to sleep at 10pm, woke up at 12 to pee and take more meds and to put on the free cryocuff which Marcial gave me, woke up at 3 to pee and get Codein, and finally at 7 again to pee – when Mr. Hardy walked in whilst I embarrassingly needed to get cleaned up for it spilling everywhere.

I woke up at 9 with a wonderful breakfast which I had overordered to serve to the boys. JM came in half an hour too late and I had demolished the brekkie. George came in later and it was really wonderful spending time with him and chatting to him – it really put my mind off the entire situation.

2.45 we left the hospital, and spent 2 hours in traffic. Felt quite ill but closed my eyes to try and forget about the situation. I’m not comfortable taking so many meds and my tummy is not very happy with it.

I’m back at Janet’s and Amy’s made me a huge chocolate cake, and Janet’s bought me loads of goodies to cheer me up. I am really treated like royalty here.

I’m walking already – and not wearing a knee brace. Seems like my recovery is going to be quite different from before! I can do all my exercises except for leg raises, because I don’t have full extension yet.

1. Movement of ankle

2. Quad tension

3. Hammy engagement

4. Leg Raises

5. Heel slides

A day not be categorised.

I woke up at 7.00, sharp. My internal clock is still running in Dubai’s timezone. Exhausted, I stumbled out of bed and help myself to a big breakfast; I’m starving. Muesli and a croissant – that’s a first, in a long time. I lost my appetite a bit ever since I retore my ACL. Sadness, fear … or just an overall feeling of futility.

I go for a lovely walk in the morning with JM and Ronnie. i then do a little bit of lazy effort yoga and physio- I am tired, demotivated and too wary of my surroundings. I feel alien in a new surrounding – although old and familiar, I’ve just been tossed around, back and forth.

I rush to get ready to head to my 2nd appointment with Dr. Spicer. It says he deals with hips, too. I want him to look at that and make my £250 worth it. I feel strong and independent as I walk by myself to the train station.

My Oyster card declines itself as I attempt to swipe through the turnstiles. After topping it up £20 last night, it seems that it’s, SOMEHOW, been automatically cancelled. Need to call and sort that out. Luckily, I came to the station early. I miss the 11.45, but jump on the 12.00 which I was planning to try and catch originally.

Never have I ever been on a train from Sidcup that DIDN’T go to London Bridge. However, today decided to be the first. I wistfully watch the London Bridge platform edge away from me as we entered Waterloo East. ‘No worries,’ I thought to myself. I jumped on the tube and got to London Bridge station, and the hospital was conveniently infront of me (which was pointed out to me ironically by a guy in front of the station who thought I was an idiot for even asking)

All going smoothly; but they can’t open my MRI CDs. I had forgotten a bunch of CDs in Dubai. Why am I perpetually disorganised? How am I ever going to survive in EY? Spicer sees me. Says that my problem is too complex for him to look at. Sends me to see Dr. Bliss. I’ll be meeting him in an hour, at 7.

I have a physio session at 3pm which I am umm-ing and ahh-ing about. Do i really need that extra 80 quid appointment? I’m pretty good when it comes to understanding my body, and I do know the exercises I need to do. My indecisiveness is crippling. I didn’t go and I’m scared that I’ll get billed for it.

I took my simcard back from JM. I kept it in a safe place in my wallet to snip into a microchip size. When i find a shopowner who agrees to do it for free (only because I am female, probably) – I discover that I dropped it on the floor. Decide to go to the Vodafone store   to get a new simcard (easy process, usually), but my account is being ‘migrated’ that weekend. So nothing can be done.

I go to the bank, and they tell me i have negative pounds in my UK account.

AAAH

Our journey ends

1^st of June marks the end. It’s been a long 5 months. In some ways, I feel like I want to keep going but there is a void in my daily lifestyle as I travel. I miss the intellectual drive, the familiarity of routine and meaningful connections with people who matter.

The last week after the yoga course, however, was exceptionally good.

I’ve found numerous diary entries which started with 5 lines of writing, and then sizzled out mid-sentence. It’s mainly because everyday was a boring routine of the same thing; waking up at 6.15 to head to morning practice, then running out of the shala to sneak in a good morning kiss from Mimi. Breakfast started first by respecting each other’s silence, which actually was an enjoyable task to do. In some ways, I wished I didn’t have JM so that I could indulge in being a ‘yogi’ more in depth. But at the same time, upon reflection, I think this is an unrealistic and narrow-minded approach to have when it comes to life. I don’t understand why I continuously thought that JM hinders me with my everyday life, when he is the most easy-going and patient person I know. Anyway, I’m crazy.

After my morning breakfast of porridge, we then headed to Anatomy class, where Alexa frequently drifted away from the scientific elements of the body to talk about chakra and energies. Zonk. This was then followed by a class with Karo, talking about ‘The Art of Teaching’ ie ‘The Art of Talking A lot of Bullshit’. After this chat session was over, lunch was finally served. I guess this made me more aware of how…stupid…people are. I hate saying that, but I think it’s true. Something which even will transcend into EY; people just love talking bullshit. Talking about nothing. Talking about the obvious.

Something we all missed were Trimurti’s food. As soon as that stopped, so did our regular bowel movements. We were all distraught; Divine Nature were giving us measly, teensy bowls of muesli; bland disheveled Thali’s and tasteless soup. Day 1 with Divine was met with everyone running to Unity and Munchies, and myself forming a group to boycott and protest against the café. The next day, they were very sweet and tried their very best to increase their portion sizes. This lead to me becoming their best friends; and friendly quickly turned into creepy. Jean Mi’s daily greeting was, ‘ Hello! Where’s Sara?’

By the middle of the 2^nd week, I believe, was when Shannon suddenly became a bitch to me.

—

I am suffering from a Frappucino coma. I decided to treat myself with a choco frapp in the airport. I then passed by Starbucks to get myself a salad…and then someone offered to buy me a Frapacinno as part of the Starbucks competition. I first tried to politely decline…and then thought, SHIT, this is a free smoothie! Take it! I regret it now.

Continued…

Last week of yoga culminated with me teaching a class. All well and good.

The week off was lovely and relaxed. We woke up for breakfast every morning and generally just lounged and went shopping. I went through the process of colon cleansing which was… interesting. I feel like my Frapp binge kind of undid all the good work, though. Shame.

The wedding, too, was a little bit of a let down for ourselves since we actually didn’t participate heavily in the celebrations! Not surprising though – the wedding is for the bride and groom’s friends and family, not food stealing Westerners! We also ate lots of cake and Rosie was not in a good way.

We then hiked to Triund, which was a gorgeous grassy patch at the top of the mountains, overlooking snowy peaks. We met Rosie, Benny Sam and Gypsy there. They had stayed the night and it was just a great way to top off our entire journey. JM and I hiked alone and after some bickering about the path (we ended up going up the hard way) we managed to get there together. The walk down was easy – Rosie and I chatted our heads off together for 2 hours straight.

What can be said about India? Lot of cafes, lots of eating out (Unity, Munchies, Sansu’s, Pacha Mamma, Om Café, Spaced out) and lots of Chocolate balls (that explains my weight gain…)

India’s been gorgeous; but it hasn’t been real India to be frank.

June 8th

And here I am, back in luxury. The sandpit of materialistic dreams.

I’ve written a lot of entries, actually, but never bothered to post them. I find it a lot less organic to post for the past; almost a cop-out to my ill-organised fashion. So perhaps I will make myself suffer for the lack of updates.

Or; I change my mind and here you are (to Erin and Liz as the sole subscribers to my blog haha)

17^th May 2015

Today, for the first time ever, I practiced Ashtanga by myself. No queues, no teachers, no help, no guidance, just me and my Asanas. I wasn’t sure how long to hold each pose, but I took my time. I completed most of them; only leaving out those which had to do with my hips.

The second week flew by equally as fast. However, it was a greater struggle for myself. I cheekily took a day off to ahem, get my Tetanus jab. The next day, though, I was feeling really off. I was feeling frustrated and angry – and Aliya’s hip opener class didn’t help. I ended up skipping a healthy chunk of the day to sort my brain out.

We listened to some live music on Friday night. I don’t seem to have a life other than Yoga, and Trimurti. I think doing the course in May was the best thing for me, ever. All the doubts and unhappiness about doing it at the end of my trip was so unnecessary. Maybe it’s a massive lesson to learn. It’s a massive lesson that doesn’t seem to stick in my brain. Make MOST OF NOW. Worry about later….when it’s NOW. Or just don’t worry at all. Make the most of the current situation, no matter what it is. Even grandma passed on the same wisdom. If it’s a shit situation, enjoy that shit situation and make the most of it.

On Saturday night, we went out to the same café for some live music. I’m not drinking at all; I really don’t enjoy it and I like keeping to my schedule of early days and nights. Mimi stayed out a bit later, and came back late…Fidel and co played extremely loud music and it vibrated through my room, keeping me awake. I slept at 3.30, and awoke at 8. My body clock is pretty cemented in my body to wake at 6.30am. What a beautiful habit to maintain.

21^st May

Nearing the end of the TTC course.

I am pretty tired of

28th May

It has been a long, long, LONG time since writing.

I’m done. I’m a qualified yoga teacher. There is a weird energy going around lots of people; particular people. Especially the teachers – well, just Karo and Ajay for myself.

Ate some cake yesterday and it got me feeling really sleepy – and

5^th June

I’ve recently done a lot of research on FKA Twigs. Upon first impressions, I didn’t have a very good vibe about her. I thought she was a drug-riddled, materialistic high-pitched wannabe hipster. But after reading her interviews and getting to understand her background and intentions a little better, she’s got me inspired.

I’ve realized my constant feeling of restlessness is due to a lack of purpose. When I stopped figure skating, I think this became more apparent.

I’ve spent the last few days just getting reacquainted with being alone. It’s actually quite lovely. I don’t know why, but always seem to feel like I am a nuisance to JM and can’t function. Even with something as simple as cleaning or getting myself sorted; if someone else is in the room, I get antsy and can’t get the job done.

Today, Friday. I spent the morning (05:30 awake) just getting myself out of bed and did the Kayla Itsines workout. 28 minutes of not-so-bad hell. I then did half an hour of yoga – but my room was so messy that I couldn’t rest my mind. I decided to clean my room – I sorted out my entire wardrobe by throwing around half the contents away.

Yesterday…Thursday. I went for a swim at Yanni’s after my private yoga practice, and then we went to Lime Tree Café to read/blog/sort life. I seem to be a lot more efficient when working away from home.

Lunch at home with family, and then I decided to clean the contents of the kitchen by throwing out all of grandma’s expired crap. Papa and I went to watch a movie after that and I bought ingredients to make chocolate balls and other healthy treats for myself.

Today, I made a rainbow falafel salad and some choccy balls!

After grabbing a huge breakfast with Mimi (an Israeli breakfast; fitting for Dharamsala. It seems like that’s all there is here; it’s basically just Israel here.) I walked around to do some window shopping and present shopping. It’s tough buying stuff in India, I feel.