great expectations. part II.

last week i wrote a story for the travelettes about how holiday memories and dreaming sometimes help me through reality. i started with one of my favourite quotes by anaïs nin who said “we write to taste life twice.”

this week it ain't helping to write about. sorry, anaïs, but sometimes writing is just not enough, after all writing isn't real tasting, isn't real living.

my tan is fading and so is vacation me. i am working so hard on making a life for myself here in hamburg and i feel like i am failing at it at each turn. i know objectively that my start here is as good as i could have hoped for, but i just don't feel it. i feel like i am constantly disappointing people's expectation and most importantly my own. i already need a holiday, mainly because on holiday there is nobody's expectation to disappoint and as far expectations of myself go – i have none. of course i do have expectations of gecko roommates and such, but those are easier to handle. which reminds me that you most likely won't get the gecko roommate remark as i haven't written that post yet and it is such a good story and i really want to share it and there it goes onto my to-do list. currently on place number 347. sigh.

i know that all is well and will be even better.

i know that a big part of it is that i worked really hard on my first local production last week so i am simply exhausted. also i haven't done any yoga, eaten little good food, drank much wine (yes, there is wine here too! and when i felt a bit homesick on thursday my brother bought all south african wines for me), and now got a cold. we all know who turns into a moaning, moping guy when sick, right?

oh, and did i mention that my wonderful friend marie got married last week and we all ended up having too much fun with our new york friends? now it's time for routine, time to calm down, time to work, and while i know i need it, i feel like all joy has gone.

i know that most expectations are in my own head. and that i just need to let them go because i am not only doing what i can, i am not just doing fine, i am doing great. today is just one of those days when i need a constant reminder of it and maybe a hug or two.

p.s. in case you wonder why this post is call called "great expectations. part II" - i already wrote one called "great expectations" and it is about expectations in my yoga practise and how wonderful it felt to let go of them. read it here, i quite liked reading it again and it still seems valid and appropriate for all sorts of situations. 

yoga class with johnny cash.

when you feel a bit stuck and uninspired for a long time it is a good idea to try something new to shake things up. like, i don't know…move to another country. if like me you have already set the wheels in motion for such a move but still feel a bit meh, i recommend yoga. for as long as it takes. once it took a month. a month during which i didn't do anything but sat on my couch and watched tv and only left said couch once a day for a bikram class. in this case i made the decision to move after this month was over and that's when i came to cape town, but somehow the yoga and the shaking things up and the move all seem connected to me in one way or another. you will understand my frustration that right now i am not only feeling stuck and uninspired and ungrateful - because really what a moron am i not to enjoy my last summer weeks in cape town? - but on top of it yoga is not helping. i don't like the classes here, there is not enough bikram classes, and whenever i go and try to let go, i get annoyed anyhow. i know those nobody’s issues but my own to sort out, but still…

a plan formed when i realized that lent has started. i am not catholic and while i know plenty of non-catholics that just use it as a time to kick a bad habit at least temporary, i have always been a bit at loss as to what that could be for me. i don’t really eat much chocolate so 40 days without would be no challenge whatsoever. no wine for 40 days i simply wouldn’t make and why should i set myself out to fail?

so i found this post on berry diaries yesterday and was immediately intrigued. what a genius idea instead of eliminating something negative from your life (and that would be the second issue with not drinking wine – wine is of course never negative, so it doesn’t count) add something positive each day like spending at least 10 minutes on your yogamat.

maybe i need 40 days and a few different time zones of yoga this time to shake things up. we will see. but i am excited. i will even attempt to post a toe selfie of my toes on mat every day on instagram and i while i made a hashtag #40daysonmymat don’t hold me to it, i am even worse at instagramming than i am at not drinking wine.

however here is day 1:

 

10 minutes of sun salutations to johnny cash. i don’t like yogi music and he did bring a good rhythm to my breathing.

please do excuse the state of my toes and my mat.

just do it.

this is going to be a very somewhat honest post about me, my body, and my weight. if you are a guy, feel free to skip it. let's say it is more of a topic that i think girls can relate to. unless you are like the actor who plays finnick in the new hunger games movie, who apparently had major issues after he was cast and torn to pieces by the media and normal people like you and me for not being hot enough. in case you wonder, i think it is bullshit. he is as hot and ripped as it gets and runs around shirtless for a good part of the movie which makes it all the better. but that just shows that it doesn’t matter how hot you actually are, female or male, you can still have a warped body image. anyhow and either way, today is not an eating all the pasta kind of post and you have been warned. 

i was always quite okay with my body. i am blessed with my mother's curves on top and cursed with her curves on the bottom. i started to make peace with that ever since my first boyfriend wrote a song for me with a line that said she has the ass of a goddess and couldn't take his hands of my boobs. but it is an on-going process that peace making business, but by now i’m good with myself on most days.
even on the days when i can’t remember any those sweet song lyrics and am not too keen on my reflection in the mirror, i never care enough to go on a diet, i always care more for pasta. when i quit smoking a few years back however i was very concerned about gaining weight. eventually the concerns about the smoking exceeded and i quit. let's say i didn't gain enough wait that it jumps at you. or at least everybody was kind enough not to tell me should it have been the case.
but still my body has changed over the years. i am 34 now and i can tell. if you want to insist and add a comment about silly beauty ideals of thinness and stuff, go ahead, but this is not what i’m talking about. i am curvy, i have always been, i will always be, and that is great. however i have an ideal of my body. not an ideal of my 16 year old body, but of a body that is the best it can be right now.
i was close to that ideal when i was in vietnam. i ate only rice noodles and sweated a lot and looked lean and fit – at least to my eyes and that's what counts for me. i haven't been on a scale for years. i believe in how do my pants feel? rather than a number. just as age is just a number, weight has always been just a number for me too. when i came back i was so excited for the prospect of real pasta and wine though that i did not only indulge for a day or two but for a few weeks. then came my trip to germany and all bets were off.

i'm not making excuses and neither am i beating myself up. i'm just stating some facts.

yesterday i went to see a cardiologist. despite my yoga, i have been feeling very out of breath lately, and after my dad was presenting with some similar symptoms at the beginning of his illness, i thought i should check it out. filling out a form which asked for my height, i filled in my go to height as it says on my id and what i believe to be somewhat true. when it asked for my weight, i put down the number that i last saw on a scale when i weighed myself some odd years ago. as i still fit into clothes that are many seasons old, i was convinced the number couldn't be that far off and even if, what were the chances that i would be discovered?
i was discovered and promptly proven wrong 20 minutes later. on a positive note i actually am 1.74m and it wasn’t my wishful thinking. hurrah. on a very different note i weigh 10kgs more than i thought i do and i almost fainted when i looked at the scale. little did it help my mood that my heart and lungs are apparently quite beautiful – doctor's words, not mine – and very well-functioning.

10kgs.

and while she told me that my body weight and measurements are all fine and i am healthy, i was shocked. shocked because i don't see the body i want to see in the mirror anymore and now it has an official number to it. now weight has become a number, a number that makes an impact on me.

of course i write this while i am drinking a glass or two of wine, to dilute the shock and to salute my healthy heart. the irony is not lost on me, but i know something has to change. i want something to change. i still don't believe in dieting, but i believe in a proper diet. the good thing is that i am not a snacker and i don't have a sweet tooth, but my weakness is wheat and wine. i know what i have to do to change: more greens. less wheat. even less sugars. smaller portions. less alcohol. more yoga. it’s actually quite simple.

don’t worry this is not going to become a fitness and nutrition blog, i won’t show you before and after pictures, or bore you with talk about kilograms ever again. i just had to share tody. now i will just be very Nike, shut up, and just do it.

how i kicked a random monday's ass.

last week was a tricky one. i was still feeling sick and thus didn't do any yoga, work was hectic and then things went wrong and i almost got my anxiety back, and i had to come to terms with the fact that the whole germany trip and the situation with my dad still has be pretty shaken up.

just to admit that last fact already made it a bit better. breathing and looking objectively at my work situation helped too. i also practised two full bikram classes over the weekend and got at least started with my writing assignments. so all and all, not bad after what i consider pretty much a week from hell. but still not perfect as i was still dreading work this week every moment.

while i was lying on my mat saturday i was thinking - i'm not supposed to think while on my mat - but hey, sometimes i have some really such great thoughts and ideas on my mat, i usually only get those under the shower. and since there is only so much showering one can do in a day, i just ran with the thought and didn't judge myself for inappropriate timing. i realized that i am a really strong person. i can deal with stuff, i can handle a lot of tricky situations. i may have some bad dreams, i may feel shaky, i may cry, okay make that sob, at times, but i don't break. i manage to get through things somehow. that thought was so fascinating and so big in a way that i almost started crying again right then and there on my mat.

with that realization tightly scribbled on an inner 'note to self' i decided yesterday, again while i was on my mat, to not be scared of the week ahead. i decided to take it full on, and kick ass.

and i did. i kicked monday's ass and wow what a feeling! with that in mind i'm wishing you a great week too, kick whatever you need to kick.

why i do yoga. the truth.

i never walk out of a yoga classes feeling enlightened. i’m hoping for it to happen any day now, but so far it hasn’t. however i always feel a bit better than before. usually not a lot, but always a tiny bit. and that keeps me coming back. how many activities are there that make you truly, always feel a bit better? drinking? hangover! eating? feeling too full! run at the promenade? cape town wind! sex? no orgasm! a lot can get in the way of your activity of choice and feeling better afterwards. yoga to me is fool proof in that regard. but still, i am far from an angel. even after a blissful class, me not yelling at some idiot in a big white car on my way home is nothing short of a miracle. one time i was in fact so spaced out after a double class that i drove with my lights off, not noticing, but still managed to viciously swear at the person who pulled out of a parking in front of me, without indicating, because, well, as i eventually realized, they didn't see me.

and those are the better days. on day like today when i am overall irritated it starts in class. sometimes i scold myself for thinking mean thoughts about my fellow yogis. sometimes i am in such bad mood that i high five myself. today i used these thoughts to keep myself entertained before i could do so with a bottle of red.

i still think it would be great if my studio offered wine, so i don't have to scramble and try to get to spar before class. also it would spare me the choice of hiding my bottle because it makes me feel like a bad yogi or leaving it in my car, making me anxious someone will steal it while i pretend i'm a good yogi. so making wine acceptable and available at yoga studios would just really help this dilemma.

so i arrive, wine hidden in bag, and wait for the studio to open up. like the lemmings we follow one person upstairs with no better argument than he went up and so we thought it okay to follow. well, once upstairs we learn it wasn't okay. apparently the studio wasn't ready for our un-sweaty bodies yet and also, can we please be quiet. we are all inside already and on our mats, so that is crying over spilled soy milk, but i can get on board with the being quiet part.

of course the two girls who put their mats down next to me and haven't been here when the be quiet! speech was given. and so they talk and chat and annoy me greatly. but of course i, hating confrontation as per usual and even if it is just in form of a shhhhh, don’t say anything. i just continue to be annoyed. after maybe five minutes i am ready to get over myself and say something, but then i talk myself out of it, because saying something that long after they started talking, is just silly. i don’t want them to think me a cow. why i care what they think of me i don’t know. i decide to breathe and close off my ears from the inside.

now i’m fine. that is till i look at the girl's toes and realize she has one really crusty toe. she must have stabbed it. and while i know that this is not her fault, it still grosses me out. also, her nail polish is turquoise and that is not very nice in combination with the crusty toe. i am going into downward facing dog and realize that my toe nail polish is peeling off badly. for a moment i can relate to her and her crusty toe, but then i compare colors and decide that though mine is peeling, the color is just spot on whereas the prettiest part of her crusty toe is still turquois.

a girl walks in with black eyeliner and mascara. may i remind you that we are doing hot yoga? the last time someone walked into my class with black eyeliner and mascara, i gave her my eye makeup remover before she could put her mat down. nobody likes a raccoon.

next is a girl with a black leather jacket over her yoga clothes. now i’m just confused.

that is, until a girl with a white tank top and no bra walks in. i think her boobs, while perky, are slightly too big for no bra, but that may be up for discussion. however white top no bra in a hot yoga class seems to be asking for it. i remind myself that i seem to be the only really freakish girl who sweats like the sweaty guys, so maybe i need to back off white tank top no bra girl. maybe she really is one of these people who just glow after a hot yoga class.

now i’m feeling envious. it seems so unfair that some people glow while i drip.

luckily there is no model in the room today, checking her cell phone before/during class for that very important casting call back.

some guys really should wax their back. then again, i should have shaved my legs or worn leggings.

a guy walks in and he looks like prince charming. another guy follows and he looks like a hot brazilian. all is good with the world again.

the girl's toe seems to becoming closer to my mat while the teacher has us in plank. eeek. i usually like this teacher. today i think i must have been sleep-yoga-ing the last few classes, because she is no fun whatsoever. more plank and now we are supposed to lift a leg too. i don’t know why she is being so mean. then she says yoga teaches us to let go of our shit. and yes, she is using the word shit. i like her again and she is right.

when i leave, i smile. hot brazilian guy is nowhere to be seen and i'm dripping, but still...life, again, is just a little bit better after yoga.  

And this is what you missed - weekend edition.

This weekend or actually the past few days were quite emotional. It started with my Mum calling me to tell that my Dad had to go to hospital last Thursday. He is a bit better, but still not well and I am worried for him. And not that I needed any more confirmation that my decision to move back home is right, but him being unwell was definitely the cherry on top, a negative cherry if there is such a thing. I need to be closer when stuff like this happens, for myself and for my family.

Now he is contemplating whether he should even come to South Africa and I had to convince him to at least wait to make a final decision until he is better and out of the hospital. I reminded him not only of the sun, the wine, and our Test Kitchen reservation, but also painted a picture of him sitting in the shadow of a pomegranate tree in the garden of the lovely guesthouse I have found him, playing bridge. This was shut down with his objection that he is coming without his bridge partner and cannot play on his own. So if anybody knows a bridge playing lady in Cape Town who might be keen to team up with my Dad, let me know, so I have the best of all arguments at hand for him to get better and to come down here as planned.

Then I ran into the friend who hasn’t spoken to me in over 5 weeks not once but twice (!!) over the weekend. I guess it was to be expected as we move in the same circles, but it was uncomfortable nonetheless. Running into an ex friend you are not over yet is as eeeek as running into an ex-boyfriend you are still attached to. He smiled a bit too brightly when he said hi and I was trying to seem aloof and hide the hurt in my eyes.

On Sunday afternoon I got ready to drive to class when I saw that my driver’s side window had been smashed. Second time in a month, in broad daylight, nothing stolen.
I was livid. I still am when I think about it. Honestly someone who steals because he/she is hungry and has nothing is something I get. It’s not right, but I get it. Someone who destroys someone else’s stuff for no good reason whatsoever is simply an asshole. When they asked me at Glassfit to check a box and say what happened to the window the options read:

Stone throw
Break in
Smash and Grab
Collision

I asked where I could check the box for asshole. The clerk was laughing, but I was dead serious. Nothing I can do about it now, but rely on the fact, well for me it is a fact, that karma sees everything.

I drove to class in the wind with no window, arrived late, still upset, only to realize that I had packed my bikini bottom instead of my top. Bleh.
Then I walked into the studio filled with 35 people, one of the biggest crowds I have taught, and had the most amazing class ever.

And just like this all was good with my world again and that I am grateful for.

about leaving, yoga, and a slimy toe.

 

i just squirted liquid soap that someone had made more liquid by adding water all over me and my left big toe. i tried to rub the soap off, but ended up washing my toe and my flip flop in the process. i don’t think i have done a very good job with getting the soap off because both toe and flip flop still feel very slimy. slimy in a good way of course, because it is soapy slime, but still… also it has now spread from my toe to the rest of my foot so it’s sliding around on/in the flip flop.

anyhow what is going on in your life?

other than having a too clean toe right now life has been really good lately. ever since the big news is out of the bag – can i still say this even though it's not a cat? - i have a newfound excitement for everything. an excitement for life, the future, myself. i’m feeling very bubbly on the inside. i am even doing vinyasa classes, if you believe it, these days. if you know me, you understand that this is a big deal. i do bikram and in bikram you stand still, which i like and which i am quite good at most days. that sounds more dreadful now than it is, because i firmly believe that people need to stand still more often and just be and breathe. in my case however i feel like i now need to literally go with that flow i have found and move and jump around and do. the thinking is done, now it is all about doing and it feels really, really good to get moving, on and off my yoga mat.

last night i had a dream of how i was back in hamburg and my brother told me that he was moving to new york for work. i can’t tell you how upset i was about this and i had to try my hardest to put on a brave face for him and be supportive of his decision. when i woke up and realized it was only a dream i was very, very relieved. part of the excitement of moving to hamburg is that i will be closer to my brother and my nephew. at the same time it really gave me an appreciation of how the people here, who love and cherish me, must feel that i am moving away. i never really thought much about that before to be honest. i was always the one moving countries, even continents, leaving it all behind when only the idea of staying became harder than the idea of leaving. but leaving was still always hard and it will be again. but with that in mind i never really thought about the people that i am leaving behind and that, without tooting my own horn, it might be really hard for them too.

till i had this dream and i was in the reverse position.

as it is i am unashamed selfishly glad that my brother is staying put for the time being. and i am so grateful for people that love me enough that they will miss me. i will miss you too! when the subject comes up with my boss or thekla and they both look at me with puss in boots eyes, i already almost cry. so no, actually i take it back; being the one that is leaving makes it double as hard.

but as i still smile while i’m writing this, i know i have made the right decision and that feeling makes it all alright. well, sort of…

 

on my mind and in my heart.

i read an article the other day about the cardinal blogger sins. i am guilty of quite a few mainly that i apologize constantly for not writing more. this post however will bring you some new ones. first i am posting a picture that has absolutely nothing today with the content of today’s post. but i just think it is so damn pretty and i took it last week during this one minute the double rainbow was out and i just wanted to share it. because it is just so damn pretty. the second one is that i am telling you i will announce some big news soon, but i’m basically just announcing the announcement. how terribly annoying of me.

in my defence i have been a bit rattled this last week despite the post-holiday blues having worn off. now it actually just makes me a bit sad, my holiday seems years ago. i tried to recreate a few beloved dishes and failed so miserably that i had to console myself with good old pasta, wine, and a number of pecan nut blondies so high i will never tell anybody. in combination with avoiding my yoga mat this has made me feel sluggish and tired.

the content of the announcement still has me up thinking and planning and talking to some people and all i will say for now is that it’s shaping up nicely, but as it is quite big it is also quite emotional. do you hate me yet for all my hinting? i know, i know…

work has been busy.

i haven’t slept well.

i had a fallout with a friend. or at least i think i did. how do you call it if your friend is not returning your text messages, calls, and an email, because he may not like to hear what you have to say because he behaved like a crappy friend in your opinion? for a lack of better word i call it a fallout and it has been on my mind all the time, making me angry and sad at all at once.

i have discovered the bachelor/ the bachelorette for my evening entertainment. and as entertaining as i find it, it makes me really sad that i would find it so entertaining.

my flat is a mess. and i can call it creative chaos all i want, it is still a mess. and you wouldn’t think so when you saw the state of my kitchen, but i actually really dislike a messy kitchen.

so with that said the plan is to spend more time on my mat, reading a book, eating some salad, and doing a major spring clean on the weekend.

what’s happening in your life?

yoga at its best.

yesterday i had the fun task to go and buy myself a new airbook. unfortunately it wasn’t as fun as i had envisioned it because i had to go to the v&a, i was hormonal, and the sales person at the istore wasn’t as clever as i would have hoped for so it took forever. no, actually scrap the first and the last – i was just hormonal. i watched glee afterwards and cried all throughout.

at 10pm after i was done with all the crying i decided i should do something useful and so i started to download over 2000 holiday pictures on the new airbook. for some reason that didn’t work immediately and once it worked, it took forflippingever. that didn’t help my overall mood. i thought i decided to write a little story about it all, only to realize that i couldn’t because i didn’t have a writing program yet. bleh. luckily that was the moment when i came across the pictures i am about to share and they made it all better. pictures from the bestest and most fun yoga class ever.

so my plan was to do lots of yoga while travelling. i bought a yellow sticky towel in lieu of a mat and downloaded the bikram dialog on my computer, i packed a set of yoga clothes and started to envision myself practising on a hotel balcony, bamboo floors, gentle breeze, overlooking the ocean, and all. alternatively i was being surrounded by some little vietnamese kids, teaching them tree and lion pose, laughing and giggling a lot. not sure how i acquired the kids in my vision, but i wasn’t questioning that at the time.

and then reality came along.

it started well enough in bangkok where i had made contact with a local bikram studio before and actually found myself in dire need of a good stretch on my first day. you’d assume that an hour and a half is plenty of time to get places, however in bangkok it is not especially if like me you can’t read thai and don’t trust directions. so after an hour and twenty-seven minutes i was already dripping sweat (thanks, humidity!), it was about to rain, and i was about to cry, because i had just spent an hour and twenty-seven minutes trying to find that damn bikram studio that didn’t want to be found. i was about to give up and look for a cocktail instead when i finally saw a sign “bikram this way”. it was after an hour and twenty-nine minutes that i arrived out of breath and by now completely drenched at the studio. hurray.

class was as it was to be expected- a bit underwhelming; after an hour and twenty-nine minutes i guess i really needed bikram himself to be there or for them to throw confetti at me for making it in time or something. nevertheless i got my stretch and thanks to the teacher took the boat back to my guest house which was awesome.

• after that my yoga practise became even trickier and i could give you some excuses why i was so lazy for a month because of it, but actually i have solid, good reasons: 
• a sticky towel only sticks on a mat. it doesn’t stick on any other surfaces, something that i wasn’t aware of before i bought it.
• a sticky towel doesn’t substitute a mat. comfort wise you may as well be rolling around practising on a bare floor.
• most 1 or 2 star hotels don’t have balconies overlooking the ocean.
• people look strangely at you if you stick your tongue out at their kids. try to explain that you weren’t being impolite, but wanted to do yoga with their kids is hard in vietnamese.
• whenever there was time for yoga, there was also time for beer.
• drinking beer makes you less sticky than doing yoga.

so it should come as no surprise that the only sort of yoga class happened after two beers, on a junk boat, in swimsuits with more laughter than proper breathing. mind you, it was one of the best (and nobody pulled a hamstring or went overboard which always makes for a successful class!)

sorry no editing, no out-takes - they were all just too awesome:

between worlds.

i have almost been back home for a week. it feels like forever and like i just got off the plane at the same time.

i don’t have proper post-holiday blues, but i’m not really here either.

 i’m still so cold all the time and yesterday i complained about my melissa’s cappuccino for 10 minutes. what is the point of drinking coffee without any sweet condensed milk?

my first yoga classes teaching were lovely, but i just want to stick my tongue out at my own mat.

some of my friends were incredibly sweet and welcoming, but i also had an incident with someone i deeply care about that had me work on my don’t judge other people skills overtime.

when i was away coming home seemed wonderful. now being home is just okay.

my aunt and uncle both mentioned that my last posts from vietnam sounded sad. did it? was i sad? i actually don’t know, i don’t think so. my holiday was absolutely fantastic, but i think at times i felt it was all a bit overwhelming and now i’m trying to process it all and acquaint myself with the concept of home again at the same time. so therefore i’m still feeling overwhelmed.

yesterday i took a nap and i had one of these funny reality dreams. boy, that dream got me thinking…thinking and wondering if my world is becoming once again a bit too small for me. not that anything came out of all the thinking, except that it scared me a bit and made me feel even more in between worlds.

sorry. none of this is very coherent and since my airbook is still sick i don’t have the possibility to make it up to you and write a proper travel post. i will as soon as i have it back (and i have caught up on all the series i’ve missed), pinkie swear. but in the meanwhile my first and proper post about cambodia is out on travelletes, so check it out here and bear with me while i’m trying to sort out my life.

mozzies or not i wish i was back here just eating coconut ice cream. 

 

 

back!

i’m back and all i can really think of is how cold i am. other than that my first 18 hours have been peachy. customs didn’t steal confiscate my rice paper and the customs dog didn’t detect my curry powder which i got for my mum. probably because he was tired from all the fetch he played before cape town airport managed to get the luggage belt moving, you can imagine that took a while.

 

my lovely friend claire fetched me and didn’t mind my request for a bottle of red wine to be brought to me upon arrival. in fact she had put two bottles in my house and cheese crackers and chocolate and roses and gotten my solar powered fairy lights to work and back up on my balcony. she also took me grocery shopping and made me my first bowl of pasta i had in a month while i unpacked and took a shower. now that is my definition of a good friend. thanks, love!

 

after sleeping 9 hours i’m almost feeling like a normal person today and have managed to bring laundry to the laundromat, make a shopping list, go to work, taken the contents of my luggage out and spread out all over my place - wouldn’t want it looking too tidy - and even glanced at my credit card statement, which i think was a very brave thing to do only one day after the holiday was over.

 

i have also started to make plans for yoga, seeing friends, talking to my mum, and going to some events, so i don’t think i will be too sad. i will miss the humidity and the lovely food a bit, because and though you may hate me for saying it – i lost weight despite eating 3 meals a day and all the pringles. but don’t you worry because i expect to be back to normal in no time as the best part about being home is eating pasta and alphen toastie from jason.

 

the one unfortunate thing is that my airbook got sick on the way back and has to go to the doctor tomorrow. bleh. let’s hope for the best, because i need to share a ton of pictures with you and stories of how i “taught” yoga on a junk in halong bay, how the pastaholic didn’t want any noodle soup for breakfast, and how the duck got run over by a motorbike. but until the airbook gets better that will all have to wait and so for now i leave you with a picture of the most awesome thing anyone could ever put on a motorbike - the flying pigs:

 

 

picture perfect.

Before I even start this post I want to say – all is good. I am not complaining, I am not sad, I am not annoyed...I am just a bit exhausted from my day and I am writing to reflect why that is.

Today I got up “early” (I won't tell you what that means for me, because all of you will hate me) the second day in the row as we had a company photo shoot which got postponed from yesterday when I got up “early” the first time around. Yes, we are the people who are always behind the lens, but today it was our turn to shine for our new website. Meh.

I absolutely hate having my picture taken. When I was sixteen my brother, the professional and very awesome and talented photographer, put me in front of a big light and agreed to take my passport picture. Oh the honor and the joy! Finally a passport picture that would show my real beauty and get me upgrades and make anybody who would see it instantly fall in love with me. Or so I thought. Well lit or not, I hated the picture and told my brother as much. It was never intended as a reflection on his skill, but always about my face, so I thought he should have responded in kind. Call it an older brother phenomenon, but he only said “well, I can only be as good as the model”.

Ever since I have refused to be in front of a camera unless being fed copious amount of drinks first. Or have someone with photoshop skills on hand. Or have someone who loves me direct my chin lovingly into an angle that makes it disappear. Preferably all of the above at once.

When people tell me how photogenic I am I feel insulted. To me they just called me ugly, because if that’s how I really look like live, oh boy… Guys, I am not being self-deprecating because most days I look at myself in the mirror I am perfectly fine with the view. It is really the reflection in pictures that I don't enjoy nor do I think it is a fair representation of me.

So you can imagine how not excited I was having to wake up early, again, and have my picture taken. By the way I should add that a guy, who I was once madly in love with and who broke my heart and who himself is still to my now unloving eye utterly gorgeous, was our photographer. Now can you please feel a bit sorry for me?

But yes I managed. I honestly didn't care about the pictures too much. I was so worried about my double chin showing up that I forgot my eyes really wrinkle when I smile a lot. Fuck.

So tonight I just feel exhausted, but I don't I don't want to whine. Life is utterly good to me right now and just sitting here right now I remember a post I read thismorning. Which asked us to list things we love about ourselves. I replied and wrote: I love the reflection of my body in a Bikram class. I wear shorts that are probably too short and too tight for my body type, but I can move in them. And so I look at this body of mine that is moving and that can do things, that is breathing and that is strong and healthy. That body of mine that is dripping sweat and that face of mine that is read and that hair – let's just say it is worse than usual - but I see all of it and I do feel beautiful.

And now while I'm lying in bed I look over at my little 'wall' and there is this one picture of my friend Sam and myself. He hugs me and kisses my forehead. The whole pictures, at least me in it, is so far from perfect and I could take it apart for you, yet all I see is my smile, my friend who loves me and my beautiful Lanvin dress.

And then I remember a conversation I had a long time ago with a friend in New York who asked me if it wasn't depressing to work with beautiful models all the time. But mainly I still remember my reply: no, if I had the choice I'd always rather be the stylist than the model. At least as stylist I get to create and do and think and not just stand there and have someone dress me. - I really want to add here that I have met many amazing women over the years, models, who work hard and are beautiful and smart and funny. Why would someone not use her strong suits whether it be an affinity for science, a love for words, or a great bone structure to make a living or a career? I have also learned that it doesn't matter how beautiful someone is to the rest of the world, they can still feel like an ugly duckling on the inside - However the truth is there are makers and doers and dreamers in this world and models are usually the ones being used as a canvas to reflect these people's work. And so when it comes to this I still always rather be a maker, a doer, and a dreamer than a beautiful canvas. In my case I rather create a lasting impression with my words than with my face. Even though that face of mine is a great one.

Part Einstein, part Lion Pose. 

rain & needles.

a little happy friday to everybody. it almost didn’t become a happy one for me as i had to go to the dentist this morning. pouring rain on a friday makes me want to stay in bed as it is and a dentist appointment didn’t really entice me to get out either. i think i had enough dentist appointments in my life already, i really should be done with them.  and to make matters worse dr nico (i don’t think he has a last name. he is like bob the builder only as a dentist) came at me with a needle.

me: woah, what are you doing?

dr nico: i’m going to numb your gums.

me: why?

dr nico: so it won’t hurt so much.

me: since when does teeth cleaning hurt much?

a little misunderstanding as it turns out.  he thought fillings, i thought teeth cleaning and guess what – i won. i was really in no mood for needles, fillings, and a droopy mouth on a rainy friday morning.

on a very good note my first story for travelettes came out and you can read all about my trip with my dad to la reunion here.

i will spend the weekend writing some more and be in the hot studio as much as i can. i don’t think there is anything better to do than yoga in this weather if you are a single person and have nobody to cuddle with. except maybe drink red wine and eat toasted sandwiches, which i will be off to do now…

p.s. that's what you get when you order coffee in la reunion: 

to eat or not to eat.

yesterday in class we were in half tortoise and i forgot to get out of the posture when everybody else did. well i didn't really forget, i just didn't hear sy when he told us to come out of it. why i didn't hear him? well, i was thinking about my arrival in bangkok and if there were still restaurants open late at night close to the hotel, oh but surely i can get a bowl of pad thai anytime in bangkok, right? so now i apparently not only think about cupcakes but also about pad thai in my yoga classes. next time you worry that you are not focussed enough or that your mind wonders, don’t worry about it, because there might just be a teacher practising next to you who is thinking about noodles.

for this mental slip i blame the fact that i haven’t eaten pasta in 4 (!!!) days for pre-holiday toning reasons and that my mind currently revolves around little else but the planning of my upcoming trip. as you know i am a planner. i plan for a living and i plan for fun and yes, sometimes to a fault. it leaves little room for living in the moment and being spontaneous and all the crap wise things wise people tell you to do if you really want to be happy. but my happiness levels are okay most days and so i continue planning.

at times like these i enjoy the planning immensely because it is like having a mental holiday before the actual holiday and also because planning calms my nerves and i am slightly freaking out here. freaking out because i am going to asia and i have never been and i have always wanted to and what if i hate it and get homesick and cold and and and… so i am planning and since most of my trip has a set itinerary, i am focussing all my attention on the few days that i have added before and after. the amount of research i have spent on junks in halong bay and pondered on the question of how much titanic pre-sinking luxury i can afford is extensive. tripadvisor and i have gotten well acquainted and also my good, old friend google came to the helping when i simply asked: how to pick the best junk in halong bay?

google is like the reincarnated oracle of delphi. it actually found me a blog post comparing three different cruises that the author had all done himself. i like that kind of enthusiasm and effort put into the story and after i went on reading. eventually i found a post of how he went to eat dog in vietnam. let’s leave the question of whether one should eat any animals aside for just a moment and dear vegetarians would you just indulge me for a story of pure adventurous foodie spirit? i need a little food challenge in asia. what should i eat? it’s a given that there will be an entire pastaholic story about the art of eating noodles for breakfast, don’t worry. but here are some of the more … exotic options on the menu which are to be considered:

pets. i don’t want to eat a dog or a cat or a hamster. i completely understand that in other cultures they are considered food and that is fine, but for me they are pets. also hamsters have tiny, little bones and unless it’s a quail tasting likewaffle i am not fan of tiny, little bones.

snake. i think i have ophidiophobia and that extends to eating the things. i sometimes gag just seeing a snake on tv, so i don’t think the attempt to eat one would go down well.

critters and insects. anything that looks like a maggot, and a worm is just a big maggot, is a no. sorry, but i don’t care about their protein content, if you ever had maggots in your house, you wouldn’t pay money to eat some either. but maybe something crunchy, cricket-y as long as it is fried. i like fried and crispy things.

feet and stuff. i have once vetoed a mexican thanksgiving stuffing with chicken feet, but have eaten pigs’ feet and ears, so i am not sure where that leaves me on the issue of feet and other body parts like that.

blood and gore intestines. i would not necessarily say no, unless hanoi in august smells the same as nyc meatpacking district in august.

and that leaves me with the crème de la crème of exotic asian food:

the fertilized egg. a vietnamese speciality. it gives an elegant twist to the conundrum of which came first – the chicken or the egg? and no, as much as i like chicken and eggs, i don’t want chicken in egg. i would however very much like to see some fertilized eggs when they hatch. apparently it happens on the markets in summer sometimes and i think that would be awesome to see. the chicken totally wings it and gets away. sorry sir, but your lunch just hatched and ran off! now i would pay money to see that.

to summarize one could say that though i eat quite a few things, the asian, exotics might not be completely up my alley. but i like a challenge. you tell me what and i take a bite and have a picture taken to prove it too!

camel burger in fez. delicious though i felt slightly bad as we were riding camels 

the next day.

i ate some of henry's brains. the picture does them justice - they were unexciting and mushy.

the random story of how micky ate dicky.

yesterday was horrible. i don’t even know why but everything brought tears to my eyes and in the end i just ended properly crying for no good reason. i decided that i shouldn’t be amongst people so in the question of wine or yoga, wine with pasta and dvds won. though it may not have been the healthiest choice, it seemed to be what i needed as today i woke up with lots of energy and the drive to get things done.

after editing some stories for a travel blog that i would love to contribute for, i went through my pictures to select some to go with the stories. i stumbled upon some old ones that i haven’t shared here, so i thought i’d make a little picture post.

i give you random pictures that have nothing in common but make me happy:

 my wonderful friend marie and i at noordhoek beach. that’s what happens when the photographer tells you to make a scary face and jump. marie just had the most beautiful baby girl and named her anni, which of course i am totally claiming credit for. i cannot wait to meet her.

i was a hipster taking shoe pictures long before instagram. i may start a series. i have another one where my shoe is dangling over a volcano.

this was taken on my first real solo trip to the seychelles. since i like travelling on my own i have the unfortunate tendencies to take selfies, also pre iphone and screen turning options. here i luckily opted to ask someone. i have since realized it is actually nice to have a decent picture of myself in a place that i liked, touristy or not. have i mentioned i used to have baby turtles? micky and dicky were they names and within a week of getting them i already regretted it and wasn’t sad when micky eventually ate dicky and we returned him/her to the pet store (we returned micky only as they didn’t want to take half eaten turtle remains). the only surprise was that micky ate dicky as he/she was half the size of dicky (dick = fat in german). however the little one in the picture i liked lots.

my dad and i on christmas two years ago. we are both total suckers for christmas as you can see. and though he is not getting any younger - his words not mine - he has just booked a flight to come down again. i am beyond excited for family christmas and a trip to zanzibar with him!

drop your hip, annika! but besides this technicality i love this picture. yoga in the desert, pucci scarf in the hair, prada on the nose.

there is a guy who has a picture taken of him doing a split jump in front of famous buildings and sites all over the world. i think i want to do that too from now on, only with standing bow pose as i am much more a standing bow poser than a split jumper in general. first up is the reclining buddha and then angkor wat . till then find me at the yoga studio where i practise dropping my hip…

relax, don't do it.

i’m still getting used to the south african winter. after a few winters of being incredibly cold i learned my lesson and got a good duvet and started to wear proper shoes and a jacket. before i was one of those grumpy, cold people, stomping my flip flop clad foot: but this is africa, why do i need to wear a jacket?! but now i learned and the weather and i are fine.
however the work seasonality is still a strange one for me. like so many other people here, i too work in a seasonal job – production. that means long, work filled days during summer and short days, filing and picking up three phones calls per day in winter. i know i should enjoy less work and while still in summer i do look forward to the winter season. before i usually come up with a list of all the incredible things i want to do with my newfound freedom free time. last year’s winter list included:

give my flat a make-over.
give my wardrobe a make-over.
lose 5kgs and make my abs visible.
learn french.
blog every.single.day. and spellcheck too.
learn to cook new meals that do not include pasta. okay, that would never be on any list of mine.
write the novel. oh yes, i too have that plan, don’t we all?
write real letters to friends and family at home.

guess what is on this year’s list?

how a peacock squashed my nose.

as per usual i started to make a list of all the things i wanted to do on the long weekend. luckily i almost immediately ditched the list. i have been very good at list making lately, but not so good at ticking things of said lists. nothing makes me feel less productive than just making a list, but nothing that’s on the list. and when your productivity is already low the last thing you really need is to have it rubbed in your face by with the accusing look of an uncompleted to-do list. so i stayed away from the list, but just allowed myself to be genuinely excited for the three days off.

and though exciting might not be the term for some to describe the type of weekend i had, for me it was definitely a good and a busy one. i went mushroom hunting with some friends and turned into a photo snapping, maniac tourist when we saw baboons back at the car park (which was fun at the time, but unimpressive after my friend told me later that she just saw koalas and kangaroos at a graveyard (!) in perth). on sunday i had a lovely father’s day dinner with my south african dad thanks to his daughter thekla who cooked up a storm for her papa and then got further spoiled with my friend making oxtail pies from scratch for us yesterday.

i took a nap every day, which – call me old – was a highlight!

i also spent a few hours each day at the studio, teaching and practising and found myself with very sore arms this morning after surprise! surprise! a few vinyasa classes. if you want to know one yoga related thing about me it is that i only like bikram yoga. as far as all other kinds go, i know different people like different things, but for me i couldn’t care less about them. however with the way local studios are structured i don’t get enough bikram practise, especially when i teach myself, so i decided that i needed to give vinyasa a chance again.

a lot of people say that they feel intimidated by bikram yoga, that everybody who does it is insanely fit and toned already, an a-type personality, etc. this may or may not be true for some, but for me it is not. however it would describe how i feel about vinyasa. plus it adds an element of speed that always reminds me of an aerobics class when i am the person who is always a step behind because i can’t coordinate my arms and legs in a timely manner.

but we all know the little drawing with the circle and the dot, the comfort zone and where the magic happens and since i need some magic right now, i braved a few classes. it wasn’t quite magical, but i did enjoy myself a little, that was, till i attempted peacock pose. with my legs in full lotus, because that’s apparently easier (ja, right!), and my face flat on my mat i had all of a sudden nowhere to go and no idea how to get out of it. if you don’t know what i am talking about - i made a little drawing so you can picture it - how it should look like and how i look like:

obviously i was a bit embarrassed, not so much because i couldn’t do the pose, but because i couldn’t even get out of it slightly graceful and under what i perceived the watchful eye of other students around me, who know me as a teacher. it was only with a sore nose that i somehow wiggled my way out of the pose and then just sat on my mat and laughed.

and so here is what i learned this weekend:

magic is overrated.

if you can’t get up gracefully, opt for just getting up.

laugh at yourself before others do.

turning an experience from i failed at something into i tried something and only squashed my nose a little is something you can call an accomplishement.