Gratitude... Is My Attitude

This phrase by Byron was sent to me; it read...
'In solitude... Where we are least alone.'
Especially with a laptop at hand! Haha. But I do like that quote.

Time flies, and there are moments when there are definitely things no money can buy. Sure, love is the first, but once it's gone, it's done. Don't waste it on useless thoughts; ask the questions in your mind, try to understand why things happen the way they do, and react to them.
'Why am I here, and why is this happening to me?'
A very healthy question beats any diet. 
The most exciting part of my life has been accepting and loving myself.
Love Thyself, and you cannot possibly not love Thy Neighbour.

Let's get down to that busily-scheduled social diary of mine.
Last Thursday was the time to check out the flamenco festival at Sadler Wells Theatre. Accompanied by Aisha, we arrived at our aisle seat when I confessed:
"I'm starving, Aisha. Have you eaten?"
Of course, my friend, a fantastic cook who prepares food in her house any time you visit, answered: "Yes, Darling. I ate."
I said hello to the boys sitting next to me, and immediately, they offered me a handful of their Pistachio nuts! So I gave some to Aisha while she laughed and said:
"Only you arrive at a place hungry and get offered nuts before settling in your seat!"
I am lucky that way or super friendly. Haha
Aisha and I giggled throughout the dance when the male dancer twirled like a ballerina while the sweat flew out of his full head of hair. We had to duck in order not to get wet. The peasant-look coloured costumes, velvet-like, were rather dull; they sang opera at some stage, and it was not our cup of tea. At the end of the show, as we were leaving, there was a standing ovation from the entire house of spectators!  
The only reason the show was disappointing was that being big fans of the old-fashioned, colourful flamenco, we felt this version could have done it better. Oh well...

The night continued with Aisha and meeting with Romel at the private Arts Club bar. It was followed by joining other tables of friends in the basement club, but we only stayed briefly.

Friday was another story! Belma texted me in the morning to see whether I could join her at London Fashion Week in Somerset House. Mais, bien sure. (But, of course). Belma mentioned having worked with the designer in London when she lived here, and we went through the 'models' backstage to catch them in the mayhem of getting ready for the catwalk. I was so vowed by the whole scene that I forgot to take out my phone and take pictures. But here's what I did get.

 

The Turkish designer (damn, I took my ticket to note down the designer's name, but where have I put it in the mayhem of tickets and note papers etc., scattered on my dining table? I Guess I tried), he produced elegant garments in pale pink chiffon, with a floral lace headband which I absolutely loved.
But then again, I could not drift from the fact that if these girls looked more like women with natural bodies, how much sexier would those outfits have appeared?
I talked to a lovely girl sitting next to me who had to attend millions more fashion shows during the following days. It all began when a girl with an oversized coat hit us from the back row three times, walking up and down. The first time, I mentioned how selfish some people get. The second time around, I puffed, and the third time, I declared the word 'Bitch' when she repeated the action. In agreement, we laughed.  
The paparazzi were at work with celebrity figures sitting in the first row opposite us. Did I know who they were? Still trying to figure it out.

That evening, I needed to let my hair loose. So, I joined Ernest and Kelly to visit Sabrina at her new pub, 'The Birdcage'. The sound of karaoke was blasting its way to the outdoors, and we stayed for a couple of shandies when Ernest and I decided to walk to the private Shoreditch House in the area. We caught up on the news of the past days with a bellini at the outdoor roof terrace. Then we cab back to the pub to say our byes to Sabrina and pick up Kelly to end the evening with a drink at the Electric's private bar on Portobello Road.  
And that was just Friday!

Saturday... Oh dear. Shane accompanied me to Fabric with Eve, a bundle of fun, who was joining us after her DJ-playing at a club nearby. As we were moving dance floors to room 3, I was grabbed by a handsome man, who instantly began flirting with me.  
I asked him: "How come you've your coat on?"
He answered: "But I've just come in. Straight into your arms!"
I stared at his smiley face for a minute, then thought... 'Nah, can't be asked.'
Then, I made some excuse, freed myself from his arms, and ran out to join my friends.
Shane and Eve were ready to retire, and as we were about to leave, I bumped into Ricky, whom I last met at his after-party before Christmas, and he insisted I join his table. Never say no came to mind, and I stayed behind.  
The thrill of the morning was seeing Judes in the DJ booth room 1, where Sneak was playing. We continued dancing until 9am when the music finally stopped.

A few hours of sleep in the afternoon got me through the evening, meeting up with Belma, Ahu and three of their friends at Brinkley's for a bite. Syd, whom I have known and through other mutual friends, was always a pleasure to chat with. There was an introduction to Sherry and Serhat, with whom we giggled, talking about online dating. How much fun can a girl endure? haha

Monday evening was movie time with Conor. After a catching-up dinner at a local pub, we went to see The Artist, which I had heard so much about. The lack of sleep caught up with me again, and I managed to sleep through most of the film... Again!
Monday movies after Fabric is a no-no for me from now on. 

Wednesday was dinner at the private Arts Club, by Alain and Romel's invitation for Serge and Sergio's short visit to our city. I picked Kristel up on the way, joined by Aisha and Pedro; we spent an utterly super time dining, wining and having a few laughs. I made a new friend outside the smoking area when I saw a distressed girl beside us. She opened up to me as she was told off by one of her family members for smoking a cigarette. Her tears began to shed as she mentioned the stress over her mother's recent heart attack. I gave her a big hug with comforting words. Providing each other with love and support is essential when in need. We probably shall never meet again, or we may, but when a hug and a smile can bring joy to someone, why not give it away? 
Mousse arrived later to join us at the club downstairs, where the Motown Sisters performed live.  
For... I am a natural woooooman.  

Today was one of the warmest and sunniest February days I can recall in all my years living in London. In the morning, I rerouted my way to Battersea Park instead of my indoor pilates class and walked amongst the beauty of nature.
I had to clear my head and think about some emotional issues that arose during the week. It took me by surprise to feel like I did towards someone new in my life who excited me. And what did I do? 

To be followed... 

Everything happens for a reason

Everyone knows me for the sound of my laughter...
But my pillow, which only hears my silent cries.

I translated this from a writing I read today and thought how relevant it has been to how I have felt since the beginning of the new year. We all begin each year with resolutions and high dreams of a better year ahead, financially and otherwise. Yet, it becomes a disappointment when things begin to go wrong right from the start. I have had the most enchanting experiences, talking to many who have had to divert their paths to a brighter future by being more humble and understanding why life has become so complicated. Everything happens for a reason, is my belief. Dig deep, find out the cause, and then search for an effect to change your ways. It's a matter of win or lose. We all have choices.  

Now, back to my wildlife... Last Friday, after attending The Designer Wedding Show in Battersea Park and talking to some fantastic exhibitors with whom I had a laugh and got more enlightened in knowing them, the evening began with newly found companions at a Persian restaurant, followed by a visit to the Supperclub in Notting Hill where my dear friend Stan played some of his cool tunes to which I danced. A girl on the dance floor happily moved to the music as I was and kept talking to me and giving me a hug and kisses on the cheeks! So cute. Tila, Aroldo and Gabriella (visiting London) were my new buddies with whom we only left the club late.

Saturday night began early when Chuck paid me a visit at home. Our plans of going out were thrown to dust as we talked and got better acquainted through a magical chemistry between us. What made me roar with laughter was every time I tried to say something rather serious, Chuck would simply imply:
"Haldita, you're full o' Shit!"
It's funny how this sticks most to the mind out of everything we say!
Now, that was a first, and he did not mean it the way it sounded, but I got him as I replied the same back to him in amusement.  
Now, me... Full o' shi'? Don't think so.
Chuck moved to London recently and, having come out of a long-term relationship does not want to start another. He is a fun company, but I have realised that a more single life suits me best. A few friends with benefits would do nicely. My diary is chockablock anyway.

Coming to terms with life on my own, I also understood why my business partner Charlotte and I had to part ways. It was not an easy choice when there was so much to look forward to setting up our new profession for the past few months, but I am grateful for everything that has happened. God would have a partner if the partnership was meant to be, so I keep telling myself and that's a personal choice again.
When two people are on different paths, it becomes a chore to make oneself understood, and I cherish my freedom more than anything. I like to be me.

Sunday was mostly spent at home, working and mucking on my laptop, a favourite pastime. It was completed by drinks at the Anglesea Arms with Tila, Effie and a few others and dinner at Heidi and Berto's. It's a perfect way to end a week of very late nights!  

This week has begun with hard work on setting up my new website again. Practice makes perfect, they say, so it has been pure dedication and determination to start my new business with a positive start. Alongside all the experiences life has brought my way, I am confident I can make this a success. At my age, to start working to support my life for the first time is a task which I willingly take on board and can only get excited by the thought of such a massive step to climb. It's all in the head... I can, and I will.

The latest Novikov restaurant in the heart of Mayfair was revisited last night in the Italian section at a table of seven. Last week, four of us from the same group sat at the Asian side, where Tila's latest Chanel handbag got stolen from behind her chair. Who would have thought in a Shi shi restaurant, full of the most well-dressed crowd the city has to represent, such personal violence could occur? After the shock was absorbed, Tila handled the situation gracefully, and it did not dampen our mood. Life goes on.

This time, our group of four was extended to seven, and everything went smoothly; with all the loving hugs and kisses Aroldo sent my way and the pleasure Effie brought, chatting about life's finer things made it another night to remember fondly. Apart from one fact, it was Valentine's Day! The idea of a day for loving brings questioning to my relatively free way of thinking. I do not question those who enjoy this day's flattery, watching one waiter get the many balloons in a sizeable heart-shaped being brought to the dining area. At the same time, the other carried the massive vase of red roses to deliver to the table of a Russian couple next to us. But I also listened to the lady at the round dinner table constantly mention how she missed having love or a man in her life, and I am sure she was not the only one feeling those senses, especially on this particular day. All my words of consolation in the joy and freedom being alone can bring went straight over her head. Oh well, I tried.

Now, another day of hard work at home came to another pleasant end. I spent time in the company of Youssef, who invited me to dinner at Randall & Aubin's Soho seafood restaurant. He cheered me up immensely and dropped me home early to get to my beloved blog.

Why is it that some of us think the world owes them?! Life is about choices. I found this beautiful poem by the Persian poet Hafez on a Venezuelan friend's Facebook page. It read:
Even after all this time
The sun never says to the earth:
"You owe me." 
Look what happens with a love like that,
It lights up the whole sky

She wrote to me: 'Have a super Love day'.
I answered: 'I try to make every day a LOVE one'.

Lust is in the air...

Hey, the weather may be freezing our asses off outside, but my mind is stimulated by a conversation I had earlier with Chuck! More of that to come.

Right now, I keep going back to my trip to Bali. I met a friend of Roya's, Jay, at our favourite coffee shop, Bali Buddha, one afternoon (I won't mention a wet one! Weatherwise, of course). He had moved to Bali eleven years ago and lived alone in a house amid rice fields (so I was told). With the invention of a spray to freeze snakes, he was busy getting his new product into the outside market. When you have so much time on your hands, especially living alone, you get the chance to think a lot. The conversation turned into our perception of the word judgment.  
I was confirming that: "I try not to judge."
Jay interrupted me, saying: "This is the modern term bullshit people use and just a saying. Of course, we judge. We all do. But there's always good judgement."
I had to agree with him there. Of course, if I did not ultimately judge, I would have nothing to complain about when people behave in a way that hurts or upsets me. And actually, I do."  Don't we all?!
It is not gossiping but talking about your feelings and sentiments. But then, would I absolutely love and accept everyone the same way? I sure don't. My better judgement and trust in intuition tell me to avoid certain people with whom I have nothing in common or do not see eye to eye and try to resolve issues when they arise with the ones I do.

Last Thursday night, 2 February, I was invited by Jules and Gabi to the Roundhouse, a very excellent venue in Camden, to hear and dance to Nicolas Jaar Djaying.  Gabi was on stage, in charge of the video playing on a widescreen, above where this young, talented 21-year-old played some cool tunes on his 'Don't Break My Love Tour'. 
I floated joyously with Gabi's housemates in the VIP area; it was a fabulous entourage. The estimated three thousand crowd rocked it below on the massive dance floor till midnight, and then it was time to head home, driving through London's freezing cold, empty streets.

Friday evening was time for another one of my parties at home. For those who could not make it, the party continued with laughter and mingling of an old and new eclectic group of friends. I only managed to go to bed at 6am!  
When everyone informed me about the food, and I mentioned having partially made one of the dishes, a fried aubergine mixed with lentils and a special sauce, they knew I had done none of the fryings. Still, they simply directed Nolita, my long-term incredible saviour, to add the suitable mixes without me getting my hands dirty.  

By Saturday, any plans for dancing were out of the window. I gathered all the leftovers from the party and cabbed my way to Ernest's, where Donna, Torsten and his friends were chilling in good conversation. Nothing beats a good dialogue amongst like-minded people. The evening ended in the early morning hours, with a Karaoke session of four, whilst others left on that snowy winter's night. Can't believe I enjoyed it so much again.  

Monday was a working day at home. I had an appointment at 16:30 in the neighbourhood, and as I passed by the cinemas, I saw Carnage being shown at 17:00 hours. Spontaneously bought a ticket and sat to watch an afternoon movie. Something I had yet to do in years. A screenplay by Yasmina Reza was made into a film by Roman Polanski. I recalled Ms Reza's very thoughtful comedy 'Art' in the West End theatre, in which art and friendship intertwined, questioning the long-term relationship between the three dominant male characters of the play. Their 15-year relationship suffered considerable strain, considering Serge's indulgence in buying an expensive painting of a white canvas with white lines! 
'A piece of white shit', as Marc scornfully described it in the play.
Carnage was of a similar situation, filmed in one living room of the discussions between two couples after a fight between their eleven-year-old sons at school. Enjoyable enough to fill up my time on a cold February afternoon.

While the days have been questioning a new path I am taking, the evening gatherings of my loved ones made the shivering weather outdoors feel warm and enjoyable. I also had dinner with my Girl and Boy, which brought my joy to boiling point.


It has been a trying week. Starting with questioning the future and ending in the most positive of notes. More of that to follow ...

Another day... Another night

The January and February blues are all around. But a friend said earlier:
"This is the time for human hibernation, to reflect upon the year ahead and what is coming our way."

Good point. But oh boy...
The days are long, and the nights even longer
All I have to keep thinking is, 'I'm gonna get stronger!'

And on that note, Power of Positivity had a writing on a Nelson Mandela speech:
'Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate, but powerful beyond measure. We doubt ourselves instead of believing ourselves brilliant, gorgeous, talented, and fabulous. Don't shrink for others' insecurities, but shine in God's glory and liberate yourself from fear.'
Well, I shortened it in my wording. Be Positive. Be Brave.


Do not think that my positive thinking comes naturally. Oh! I am damned if I ever stop working at it. It keeps showing me the path to better living and thinking. It makes me a happier woman, and through my joy, all I want is for others to feel this way. It is all hit-and-miss. Some you hit. Others you miss. C'est la vie.
Hey, if you Keep doin' what you're doin', you'll get next to me (Bo & Ruth). 


I told my new friend, Alfredo, in a chat on Facebook that I never imagined our first meeting would lead to the great friendship that has developed.  
He said: 'Life's unpredictable.'
I then added: 'And I absolutely love that about life. The more positive you think and brave you are, the more it gives you.'
Alfredo agreed but continued: 'If my English was only better.'
And I: 'My dear, when I was in Venezuela last year, I spoke Spanish to everyone and told them... Hablo muey bien Espanol. And so they believed me and told me... Si, si. Muey bien. '
He reminded me: 'You're not shy, and you don't care what people can say about it.'
Me again: 'I really don't care. ' True. All you must do is believe in yourself, and others will follow. And your English is way better than my Spanish!'
Then, I remembered my trip to Venezuela with Hala. It was only last February, but time has passed quickly, yet it feels like it was ages ago! So much keeps happening.

I started writing this blog in a questioning mood. Then Soltan, my wonderful brother, called from abroad, and after a long chat, things started looking up. Then, I Skyped with the lovely Gabi, with whom, accompanied by Donna, we visited Fabric on Saturday night. As a result, I missed my all-day meditation course on Sunday but made it to lunch with Heidi! I also did something rather mad later that evening. I drove to Tottenham, which I first thought was in the North of England as opposed to North of London, to meet a tango teacher. My passion for tango became scarce when the older man offered to give me a massage naked in his bed! Que?!? Well, I looked somewhat exhausted from all the dancing and sleeping at 7am for three hours, but that was ridiculous! My shock was in such horror that I could not reply, and as he smiled and went towards his bedroom (to get naked, I presume!), I picked up my bag, got out the door fast, and drove home. Damn. How did that go so wrong?! Haha... 
My life seems increasingly like The Adventures of Priscilla!  


On an even naughtier note, I took these pictures in the Dubai Mall on my way back from Bali. Lora and I also visited Zuma's in Dubai on the one night I stayed there who would walk in to join us by the DJ stand, but the lovely DJ girlfriend of Lora's whom I had met and spent a beautiful afternoon by the sea with, on my previous visit. I actually really wanted to see her again. It was amazing that she came to Zuma's by chance!
Back to Dubai Mall, with its ice skating ring and colossal aquarium, the following wall was impressive, but...

Now... Don't you find this rather suggestive?!? Or is it my dirty mind?  
Haha

Now, a poem I felt like writing for my own pleasure.

Thinking back to an afternoon in Bali brought this to mind:

Sitting under the protection of a colourfully cushioned hut
Reflecting upon the world around me that's about to rut
Hearing the sound of the birds singing all around
The music of the raindrops on the leaves abound
The humidity of a gentle breeze blowing lightly against my skin
This is the time for my year's reflections to begin
In this heavenly surround, earth seems far from the mind
Perhaps it is best not to be harsh but to think very kind
It feels like the question-time is never-ending 
Intertwining roads, up and down, all enchanting.

Where am I going next?
I believe in nurturing the love
Flying high above as a helpless dove.
Yet these wings, at times, are too heavy and wet
The strength to move is much of a burden to set.
Set sail above the waves of an infuriating ocean
The danger is all around, but we must take caution.
Into the smoothness of dreams flowing through a mind
That is filled with a past and can sometimes be blind.
The time comes to finally change that thinking cap
Tear apart, free the soul from the shrinking wrap.
God is everywhere, in all we see as beauty
Happiness is what we deserve; this is our duty.
To put aside the worry and smile at the world
Allow the excitement of the future to unfold.

Life is good, and I am happy. Wish the same for you all. Night Night.

My New Beginnings for 2012

When you let the sunshine enter your heart, the weather outside will not affect your feelings. Only then can you spread your radiance to the world around you.

More of that to come... Returning to our journey from Gili to Lombok, the Vila Ombak organised a boat ride to the next island, Lombok, where the crossing was possible. We got off, waiting for our taxi to take us to the airport on the more enormous island.  
Our driver, Zul, was most accommodating and suggested showing us around the island for the same price as taking us straight to our plane ride. We had four hours to kill, which allowed us to see Lombok. Brilliant.
The green island (well, it sure rained enough for it to be that green!) had an excellent feel. Bali is so over-populated now that I would love to return to Lombok again. Gili was great but a little too small for me! I like things rather 'big'. Haha

The road by the sea, going around the island

The happy school girls in uniform.
One is writing on her wrist! 'memories.'

The colourful Graveyard

The silk scarf factory, where we watched them being made

And our tiny plane, flying from Lombok to Bali!

This is where the pictures say a thousand words. My memories of Lombok.

When we landed in Bali, Lora confessed.
"Haldita, how could you sleep through that bumpy, scary flight?! Whenever I looked at you for reassurance, you were fast asleep through the half-hour flight."
I laughed and said, "Darling, I don't let fear rule me. I seem to fall asleep in such instances! Besides, Lora, you slept through our almost two-hour boat journey with waves as high as our speed boat on both sides while I watched and prayed, so now, it was my turn." 
We laughed and returned to the empty house where all the other guests had left.

Looking back at my three-week-long trip, I feel ever so grateful, and every day, I understand more and more why I had to be there. Let me explain.

It rained or poured every day in Bali. I know we were there during the rainy season. I do my homework and am a well-travelled woman, but even the locals were complaining about the constant heavy downpours. When you look, my pictures say it all.  
Now, I got dark, cloud-bathing! Had the sun come out, as a sun worshipper and a sun-soaking addict, I would have sat under those strong rayons with my usual Hawaiian Tropic oil, factor zero! And that would have been harmful to me. So that was a blessing. Always see the bright side.

From day one, we arrived at the house in Bali to be woken up every morning at the crack of dawn with the unpleasant sound of a rooster, which Lora's neighbours had acquired in her long absence. I told her one morning:
"Darling. Now I like being woken up by a cock in the morning, but this sure ain't the kind I'm talking about!!!"
We laughed hysterically at my naughty, comical remark but still woke up every day swearing at the noisy beast. By the end of the trip, even he didn't bother us much.

A frog managed to leap in the garden pool a couple of evenings, and boy had I ever heard such a noisy, coarse-voiced frog in my life. This one had it all. The first time around, Lora's help managed to catch and throw it outside in the street, but he found his way back when we returned from Lombok another evening, and we had to learn to sleep through his croak! Oh well, there are worse things in life, and he only stayed one night.

Had my dear friend Lora mentioned at the beginning that others would be staying with us in her four-bedroom house, I might not have gone there at all? Especially a couple with a ten-month-old baby and a nanny. The couple happened to be absolutely delightful; Annie and Benny, plus their baby girl, was the smiliest, most loving child I saw. She smiled big time every time she saw me, and that would melt my heart and bring back memories of my babies, now all grown up. Oh, I missed them being away.

Our last week in Bali was just Lora and me. She had work to attend to, and I had time on my hands with a rented 'Pink' Barbie car at my disposal as I love driving, and getting a scooter in that heavy rain was not for me. So, I found a good radio station and drove around in the rain, shopping in the Seminyak area where the wheels of my car were utterly sitting in water! One day, in slightly better weather, I spent my afternoon at the pool of the W Hotel, which was peaceful, reading and people-watching, and generally got time to spend in my own great company. Reflecting and thinking of my future.
As much as I love company, it was good to get to know myself better and my goals in life with a more transparent and productive perspective.

I had been smoking pot most nights of the week for the past, God knows how many years, and not having any during my long trip did not bother me one single bit. Ok, I didn't smoke like a rasta, but mainly in the evenings as opposed to the many drinks my friends would typically have. It made me a more fun person, perhaps a little madder than most. But actually, it was ALL habit. It becomes an unnecessary' habit if you repeatedly do something for many years. Hey, I'm not saying I'll never smoke pot again, but I realised it does not make me the person I am.
As my dear therapist of those eleven years ago asked me about five years ago when I went to see him for one session:
"Haldita," he said, "I understand why you had to smoke joints all those difficult years of marriage, to keep silent your inner child, to hide behind a clouded smoke to ease your pain. But you don't need that now. You're a woman with higher paths; there is no need to cloud away the bright future that awaits you."
God Bless you, Francois, for your loving support. I sent him a note again before Christmas to thank him for his wisdom and help finding myself. And that road is endless.

Thanks to that cock, or rooster in this case, I now wake up at the crack of dawn, still! And I want to go to bed around midnight, which is very early but good for me. 

Despite a blow I had on the night of coming home to London, I am absolutely determined to make my new business work. When I visited my lovely five-element acupuncturist yesterday, I asked for 'wisdom and strength'.

The entrance of W Hotel Bali

Lora has been visiting me in London for a few days now. I am so grateful for her friendship, hospitality, those magnificent yoga classes we attended, and all the learning we had in each other's company. The W here for me and my friends stands for the 'World-Wide Wonderful Women' in my life.  

Wonderful, Worthy, Wacky, Whoopy, Worldly, Wobbly!

 

Shroominating in Gili Trawangan

What is a day if not for the experiences experimented on?

Hence, my quest for mushrooms began. Rain poured on and off as we strolled around the island's wet, sandy pathway in the warmth of the air. The road was full of various board signs advertising the magic of the fungi. 

To the moon and back!

My latte mushroom cocktail

    

At a drinks stall, I asked the seller for directions as to how the banana leaf of handpicked mushrooms was to be taken, and she, in return, showed me the drinks fridge:

"Take one, Coca-Cola? Juice?"

I opted for the latte mix. She poured the can of coffee into a blender, topped it up with the magic goodies, plugged the machine in for the mixture, and handed it back to me in a plastic cup with a straw. 100,000 rupiah was the price, roughly ten dollars.

I walked around happily with my special drink, 'mushy cocktail' as I called it, while Lora looked for a place to settle in. We found a spot on the high bed of the open-air hut, cushioned by colourful fabrics, to lay ourselves comfortably. I watched the scenery of the sea, the early evening fall and the island of Lombok opposite while sipping half my mushy drink.

 

     

The view from the hut

 

We settled into the tranquillity of the scenery and watched the world go by as I drank half the mushroom-tasting cafe latte through the straw. Frankly, did not quite dare drink it all. We sat there for ages while Lora investigated my state of being too often by asking:

"Are you feeling it yet?"

"Honest Lora," I would answer, "No. Nada de nada."  

In other words, Nothing. But the calmness in the air was so relaxing that no substitute was necessary to get me high. Besides, who would I laugh with if my comic sense of humour arose and I wanted to giggle as the outcome of taking mushrooms led to? Lora and I were amused often enough at what we said!

I wanted more to report, such as how the roots of the trees nearby began coming alive in mysterious ways or the waves of the sea turning into some sort of creature. Still, I decided to leave that experience aside as the one I had trying chocolate mushrooms in Ibiza, which was a fun memory not to be repeated on this occasion.  

The night fell, and we walked to the Beach Bar restaurant. We picked the fresh fish lying on ice carriers, asked them to be grilled over a real fire, and served at our table.

One last stop was with our laptops in hand, on the loungy armchairs of Scallywags hotel, lying by the road, watching the traffic pass by and engaging in conversation with the Swiss explorer at one table and the Spanish traveller who had been throughout India and was continuing on her journey to Vietnam, before retiring to bed.

Our last day in Gili was partially sunny. However, due to the earthquake happening on the Western side of Indonesia, the speed boats were cancelled as the crossing, which happens to be one of deepest of seas, combined with the aftershocks, must have turned the waters turbulent with estimated 10-meter-high waves. There was another way of getting back to Bali on a small yellow speed boat to Lombok, a taxi ride of two hours through the island and a small plane ride, which would have totalled a seven-hour journey as opposed to the one-hour fifty-minute boat ride it took us to get there. The agent reassured us of a speed boat traversing the following morning at 11.30am.  

The weather was good, and we lounged on the beach beds, where we ate a Mie Goreng lunch (Indonesian noodle dish), followed by a long walk around the island now that the rain had stopped.

A branch of Lost Soles!

 

The walk by the sea took two and a half hours, during which we enjoyed the calm of the sea and the emptiness of the beaches we trespassed, each at her own pace.  

We returned before nightfall for a bite at Scallywags, which could have been better than the previous chef had left. At 8 pm, we were followed by an hour and a half of massage by the best hands a masseuse could possess.

Another last day approached, and we were informed that the waves had not calmed and the particular boat was not moving that day either. So, we decided to take the long route and drive through Lombok Island.

I just got home to London last night via a night stop in Dubai and am somewhat shattered. The jet lag woke me up at 5:50am this morning, and it has been a long working day. But before I left, a saying was engraved onto a piece of wood at the end of our walk that day; it simply read...

Happiness is Within

Giggling in Gili Island... Indonesia

Venture into life's new experiences and revel in the luxury of unaccustomed pleasures.

I woke this morning thinking, 'I wanna go home now'! Then, on second thought, I told myself...

"Hey woman, you're in Bali, in the heat, despite the heavy downpours, walking around in a light, chiffon dress at most, the generosity of Lora's hospitality, feeling the great vibe this island has to offer and... Wanting to go home?!? How bloody spoilt is that?'
So, putting on a new, fresh-thinking cap, I feel blessed and grateful.

On Sunday, when the whole house of guests was to leave, Lora and I went even earlier, at 7am, to venture out to a new island... Gili Trawangan.
We woke up at the crack of dawn, 5.45am, to be picked up at 6.15am by the minibus organised through the travel agent to drive us to the other side of Bali for a speed boat journey to Gili. Of course, the driver arrived 45 minutes late, but we still made it to the crossing.

Lora fell asleep during the 1-hour 50-minute journey while I watched the boat driver skilfully manoeuvre us through the very high waves, almost as tall as our boat of 40 seats and only ten fellow travellers. The only thing I could do was be positive and keep praying for our safe arrival.
We made it to the Gili Trawangan island, and I am here telling the tale!  
There were no cars but bicycles and horse carriages on the island, which we took to our hotel, Vila Ombak.

Drinks upon arrival

The route to our room at Vila Ombak

We checked into our room, left the one carry-on luggage behind and began our hike around the island as there was no sun in view. Shortly after, we noticed the modern Trawangan hotel. At the same time, the clouds opened their pores, and the rain gave us no choice but to take refuge in the restaurant situated at the back of the inn, watching the serenity of the scenery while sipping on our fresh pineapple juice mixed with mint, a taste I had acquired visiting Rio. We sat there watching the downpour onto the green fields of palm trees, standing across where we were seated. The landscape was a postcard.

As soon as the rain stopped, we passed by a tree house built on the beach belonging to the hotel and continued our walk. Not long after, another storm hit us, and we again had to hide under another straw hut, which happened to be a bar with great music called... What else but 'The Exile'! Here, we ordered a couple of Caipirinhas, on the island mode, sipping on our cocktails, watching the heavy downpour (yet again) and listening to 'Oh Lord! Please don't let me be misunderstood. How appropriate, yet I wondered why give a nickel as to how others perceive me? When there are always those who get me.

Another downpour over, we continued on. This time, we passed by white, sandy beaches with no one in sight. Except for the man carrying his goods the old-fashioned way until... What? More rain? I thought the weather was terrible in England with all the heavenly waters pouring upon us!

It was not long again before... Yep, you guessed it.
More wet? There were no open bars this time, but a derelict one appeared, and we hid under the elongated roof of the empty space. From the other side came two guys to do as we did. I started talking to them as there was nothing else to be done. Two Italians who had moved to Perth and were now on holiday in Gili.
The painter and the waiter!


The only dry space was a bench-like area on the floor, where we all sat in tranquillity, observing the rain with the view of the light blue sea ahead.
They left before the dry patch while Lora and I waited a little longer for the right moment before we made our way to another spot under only a cloudy sky.


For the umph time, we were not saved from yet another soaking moment, and this time round, we made a pit-stop at the hotel Villa Julius, where hunger struck, and we devoured the noodles with seafood.
There were no signs of the rain stopping, so we asked the hotel to call us a carriage to take us back to our residence. In fact, our estimated two-and-a-half-hour walk around the island took us four and a half hours halfway through!  


The one availability I was promised on the island was mushroom! Shiba had texted me from London to make sure I visited Gili on the same day we went to book our trip to the island!
As Lora put it: "Everyone on Gili is 'shroominating! Or getting high."
Well, the poster sale signs of mushrooms were clearly in view. Not long ago, they were sold in Camden coffee shops in London! It is organic, after all.


Now, my experience of the above 'organics' plus the delay of our journey back due to the 10m high waves in the sea from the Indonesian earthquake that we had no idea about...
To follow!