Avoid the Holiday Rage and Embrace these Holiday Tips Instead

It has been a REALLY long time since I have been here and I apologise. But life happens. I don’t usually do my 2015 round-up this early but I must say, 2015 was not the greatest of the great. Sure there were some awesome moments, but it was not an award-winning year. Still, I am happy to have been here with you.

So it’s the holidays – another ‘winning’ time of year for me. God! I cannot say I loathe holidays but I do hate the way the holidays make people act a little cray cray. The season of love and giving has become the season of road rage, car park rage, Toys ‘r’ Us rage, supermarket rage, department store rage, etc. Everyone is so angry because there is traffic, silly people standing around in stores doing nothing, people picking up the last bottle of Chardonnay you spotted from a mile away and thought – that would be great with Christmas dinner. People are awful this time of year.

While you may get tips for the holidays that include where to shop, when to go and so on, please heed the following tips as well:

Remember the reason for the season. People get themselves worked up over the holidays – worked up over material things, and other nonsense. The cleaning, the cooking, the shopping. The season should be fun and filled with warm memories of great times with friends and family. Don’t lose sight of that.

Appreciate those who work for you to enjoy the holidays. The guys and gals who work really crazy shifts and work long hours in the toy stores, department stores, supermarkets and so on, just so you can get that Elsa doll for little Dana, or that bottle of Flower Bomb for your wife – these people have families and loved ones too. They have homes which they would like to clean and trees they would like to decorate with their kids. Everywhere is busy and crazy and I personally cannot even fathom working in that type of environment without busting a blood vessel, so I appreciate those who do. So be considerate and appreciative when and where you can.

Remember those less fortunate. That grab for that last Elsa doll and the whining that the supermarket does not have the wine you want - pales in comparison to what so many among us lack. The senseless road rage to get to the store to get a parking spot to spend tonnes of money on something so insignificant in the grand scheme of things can often seem so obscene. Invest a bit of that energy to make the holiday a little brighter for someone else and see how good it feels.

Be considerate to those who may not have anyone for the holidays. Some people are alone, plain and simple. Some have lost close loved ones, or have moved away from family – sometimes in a new city or new country. The life of the single man or woman, is not always as fancy free as some make it out to be. It can also be a depressing and lonely time. Seniors, with no close relatives nearby, can have a terrible holiday season. It never hurts to invite someone who may not have the bustling big family and the huge love around them to join in on your celebrations. It can go a really long way.

(Have you seen that awesome Publix commercial? Warms my heart)

I just wanted to say Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to my 2 readers out there. Tomorrow I will do my annual baking and I will spend Christmas Day with the family, including my brother and his munchkins, and other relatives. Be safe. Don’t over-eat. Avoid the rage. Love and blessings.

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It's so hard to say Goodbye when you only just said Hello

I had a completely different post planned for today. You don't wake up expecting to have to write something like this.

In 2013, I visited Rome - a city I had always wanted to see. One of the most exciting things about that trip was meeting up with my childhood penpal for the first time ever. I wrote about the anticipation here and about the actual meeting here.

When I returned home, we gushed about our trip. Later...she told me she was sick. Cancer - that awful, awful scourge that has covered this world with such a darkness and a mercilessness. She was upbeat, she was positive. We traded messages, I prayed, we made plans. The last conversation she had, she told me she did not have good news. But she was trying her best, she said. She sent me a happy smiley but I am sure she was in so much pain. I sent her one back. The worst thing about having friends so far away is that you cannot hold their hand or hug them. A happy smiley and my thoughts and prayers were all I had to offer. I messaged her after that and got no response. This morning, it dawned on me that I had not checked in on her in a little while. I checked on my last message and saw that it had never been read. I went to her page and I speak no Italian but I did not need to understand the language to understand the story being told through the photos, the messages, the tags.

She was without a doubt the highlight of that trip. When we met, it was like we were friends for years and years, even though we were in a way. She opened her heart to me, her friends, her city. The warmth and beauty of her soul were so genuine in a city that at times felt so cold. It did not matter that I was black or a foreigner or whatever - we were friends when we were 11, and here we were in our 30s - friends then and forever.

I still have the first photo she ever sent me so many years ago in an envelope stamped 'Roma'. She, leaning against a wall, in an oversized sweater, long brown hair over her shoulder, pretty smile. She was happy to make friends from an island so far away and we were so much alike even though we were so different,

She was so young. She was my age. But while I cannot speak to how many lives she touched, she certainly touched mine. I am so glad we got to meet and even though it was a short moment in time, it was a memorable and beautiful moment.Our next rendez-vous was to be in Trinidad. We had talked about this. I looked at the screen this morning and I just cried. She was as good a friend as any I see every day. When I had joys to share, I shared them with her. When I was cold and lonely in London, she always made me laugh. I am heartbroken. We will never make that trip to Cuba together now, but I promise to live each day with hope the way she always told me to. Life is so short and it is not fair.

The hardest part is I did not even know until this morning. That is eating me alive. My heart was heavy and so I checked and checked and checked - going crazy with checking messages, sending messages to her friends, trying to translate messages into English, and forcing myself to think positively when deep down, with every post I tried to translate, every post that was not hers, every throwback photo, I knew otherwise.

Farewell, my lovely, my beautiful friend - both inside and out. Thank you for loving me despite boundaries. Thank you for being the light that you were. Thank you for living a life worthy of the love you have received. Thank you for once again reminding me to Live, Love, Laugh. I will hold you in my heart forever.

Grazie. Sleep well.

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The Thing about Christmas...

The thing about Christmas is that it really is for kids. I have found myself being less grouchy now that my nephew is at an age where he is aware of the holiday and can be fully engaged in it. He is such a bubbly, energetic child and he defrosts aunty's chilly heart with his cuteness.

So yes, I was in the mall this weekend, doing Christmas shopping. We had a nice aunty/nephew day yesterday and I will actually be wrapping gifts tonight. Do you know how long it has been since I wrapped a present? I would normally just buy a gift bag and stuff whatever the object of desire was in that. Or just take the victims to choose their gift and let them take it once paid for. Yes. I have come a long way! Lol

The thing about Christmas is that a lot of my fellow marketers like to pigeonhole it as a time for couples, and this works, so the singles usually feel like junk - grumpy in other cases. I am over that now that I am cuter and wiser, but it is a very real malaise for many.

The thing about Christmas is that we have made it a retail monster when it should be about the people. I don't expect presents and hardly ever ask for or get any. I like that it coaxes my relatives from around the world to come home so I can get excited about seeing them and spending time with them. That is the part that negates all the hard work of my fellow marketers. The warm love and rambunction of family is priceless. 

The thing about Christmas is that it is a 5-day weekend for me. Well, 5.5 day weekend. That is the best gift of them all.

Merry Christmas to my 2.5 readers and your loved ones. Give thanks and be happy. That is what it is all about.

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Be Fair. Please don't Share. - The Social Media Privacy Question

Photo credit: The Daily Mail

A very contentious issue came up this week. I already had a bit of a rant about how much we share at the risk of being socially anti-social. The question this week was what do we share, particularly as it relates to privacy, and drilling down even more, other people's privacy.

In this social media age where it seems to be open season for sharing, you have people sharing the most intimate details of life via Facebook updates, and photos on Facebook and Instagram. The problem is, it's sometimes not details about their life, but about yours.

New baby? Oh, let's post about your new baby - from when it was born, to the first photos.
Just got married? Let me share your photos, your vows, your buffet table.

I mean, is there a limit to how far we go with the sharing? I have no problem with those who wish to share their breakfast, lunch, dinner and midnight snack with their 600-strong network. I do have a problem with those who feel sharing my special moments with that same 600-strong network is cool.

Now it's different folks for different strokes. There are those who have no problem with you taking photos of their wedding or children and sharing them everywhere, and that's fine. There are also those who feel like these are private moments that they wish to keep within the confines of cherished personal memories in a closed network of friends and family - whether they choose to keep that network offline, or online. There are some who will argue that you cannot stop persons from taking photos and sharing them on Facebook. My counter argument is, if I invite you to share in a special moment that I would like to keep private and bound to those closest to me, and I ask you politely to not share those moments with your online network, and you do, then I would have to strongly re-evaluate my relationship with you.

A super cute way of being very firm with
your guests about what they do at your wedding

A couple invites you to a wedding because in the most ideal of situations, they consider you a friend and someone special enough to share in their special day. They invited YOU - not you and your 600-strong Facebook network. Children I feel are particularly off limits because people guard them so closely. I have not even shared my niece's photos with friends since my brother has not done so with his friends. I am not "bes'" aunty and I respect the parents' decision to keep their little girl from the interwebs. I have shared her cuteness with friends one-on-one via email or instant messaging but that's aunty pride, and not a desire to overshare.

People need to respect other people's privacy especially if it is explicity requested. If your own life is so sad that you have to share everything from other people's lives to get "likes" and "comments", well...

What's worse and as I indicated in that other post, you lose the special moments when you are glued to the screen of the phone, trying to get the best angles etc. Just live life. Just enjoy the moments for what they are worth.

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Reminders and Lessons from this week

I was reminded that coffee is a mask used to cover deeper problems and all coffee addiction jokes aside, I need to start listening to my body when it screams "I am tired".

After having weirdo things happen to my body, and banning coffee from my morning breakfasts for a few days, I was reminded that I could not deny that my fatigue was not normal.

I  was not reminded, but learnt that IV fluid bags take a long, long time to empty into one's body. This is especially not good when one is hungry and there is nothing at all to eat. I learnt this from having said bag attached to my arm - not a fun lesson.

I was reminded that sick days were invented for a reason. I must exercise this franchise more often when it is necessary.

I was reminded that I am not close to being invincible. I have fears like anyone else.

I was reminded that the internet is not always your friend when you start playing doctor and trying to diagnose yourself.

I was reminded that a second opinion really contributes to peace of mind.

I learnt that I have in fact lost 13 pounds. This was a great lesson cause I had banned myself from getting on the scale again until I felt for sure that weight loss was happening. I did not think anything was happening and when the doctor forced me to get on that evil device this morning, I cringed before I looked down. But small yaaay....13 gone, 500 to go!!

I was reminded that small victories often justify small treats. Very small. Don't judge me. I had a tough week!

Hazelnut Mocha cupcake. So cute. So yummy.

I was reminded that life is more than the day-to-day routine and hustle. It is soooo fragile and so much more than we make it each day. I was reminded that I have to take better care of myself and to embrace life more than I do. I need reminding of this often.

I was reminded that I am loved and that I love in return. Thanks for all the well wishes.

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Ensure Vacation Fun with the Right Travel Buddy

As I try my best to think ahead to this vacation of nothing I would like to have before December 31, a friend and I were yesterday talking about travel buddies and how they can make or break your vacation enjoyment.

Most people know that I am Lone Wolf when it comes to travelling. Once I have my passport and when necessary, a valid visa, I wait for no man or woman. I like the spontaneity of being able to select a destination and work towards getting there.

I have not had good experiences planning trips with friends – none of these trips ever happened. The single, childless travel fiend is always a bit more flexible than the mothers and wives. Travel tastes also vary. According to some, I am a bit bourgie, and that’s fine. If being bourgie means I am not a fan of backpacking and sleeping in some hostel where the sheets may or may not have been washed, and where I have to share a shower with 20 other people – 20 strangers I must add, then yes, I am hella bourgie. I get up too early in the morning, work too many damn long hours and I am always too tired to spend my vacation in some hostel! So therein is another reason I am the Lone Wolf.

But I was not always like this. Oh no. On my very first real vacation as a working adult, I planned a tropical girls’ trip with a friend. It had all the ingredients to be a fun time – a great destination, with great activities, great restaurants, a great friend. We got there, and from the moment we got off the plane, it was whine o’clock. The sun was too hot, the taxi was too cramped, the streets were too narrow, the room was too cold. Jee-bus!

Then we got to the shopping area, and while the shopping was excellent, who spends all their money on stuff on the FIRST day of a FIVE day trip? And no credit card in sight. Having not budgeted to pay for two, I could not chip in for five days. This now meant all the activities we had planned on doing were now going to be solo or no-go. *insert salty face here*

Then there was the issue of my Energiser bunny-ness versus dead bunny. I am one who wants to do and see everything, and while I can temper this to meet my travel buddy half way, waking up at 11am was not cute. Not just waking up at 11am, but waking up at 11am and then wanting to laze in bed, watching reruns on cable for another hour before getting into the shower, while I sit there, hungry, and while the beautiful day outside was being wasted. I had many a lonely breakfast during this trip.

When we finally emerged from the hotel, the whining resumed. It was just crazy. I called my mother one morning – exasperated – and then that same morning, decided I could enjoy this vacation by myself while Sleeping Beauty caught up on her beauty sleep until 2pm. On another trip, I had a daily 60 minute wait for one friend who insisted that she had to style her hair with the curling iron before heading to the beach. Really??? And so, the Lone Wolf was born.

However, I have since gone on staycations/vacations with others, and have had much much better experiences, but the travel buddy needs to be screened and selected carefully to ensure you get full value from your vacation investment.

Some helpful tips:

Two peas in a pod - At the very least, have common interests and values when it comes to your vacation. You may not always want to do all the same things, but some similarities go a long way. 

Discuss plans for the trip – It’s good to discuss beforehand what you both expect from the trip so that no one gets sour during the trip. Your travel buddy may not want to do everything you want to do and this may mean you cannot do everything you want to do. However, if you REALLY want to visit the Louvre and he/she really wants to go on a wine-tasting tour, then plan accordingly with compromise in mind to ensure each person gets value from the trip.

Budget – Ensure your travel buddy has money, and has budgeted realistically for your destination. That trip of a lifetime can sour really quickly if your travel buddy is going to be rolling with a calculator, doing currency conversions before they buy even a bottle of water and complaining that in Trinidad or wherever, this would be x dollars and not so expensive. THIS is annoying to the extreme!

Destinations will not change people – If your travel buddy annoys you on a regular day, then don’t set yourself up for disaster. Being in close quarters for a period of time, day in, day out, with a person who annoys you in daily life is going to ensure your vacation is a disaster. Just don’t do it – travelling alone is a much better and more enjoyable option.

That being said, I am still planning this vacation of nothing as a solo superstar adventure, but I am open to suitable travel buddies.

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Mind the Foodie Gap in London Town

So the final leg of my holiday adventure has been back in the UK, where I met up with friends and relatives. It's funny how we bond and communicate over food and drink, isn't it? A shared love of food can often be that common thread and whether it is eating out, or cooking together or for each other, some of the best memories can be created over food.

And so I wrap up another amazing trip with some of the best food creations and best people, starting off with my girls' catchup session at Shutterbug, a great little creperie in Shoreditch, and which I am now in love with. Such a pity that I only had that one moment to enjoy it, but enjoy I did. Having already had a wonderful savoury snack with another friend, I decided I would order a sweet crepe creation - red velvet crepe with marscapone, strawberries and chocolate. To say it was delightful would be a gross understatement. My friend had a savoury crepe with goat's cheese, spinach, walnuts and fig relish. They also serve some awesome cocktails and coffee. I love this place. I cannot make a crepe to save my life and love them so, so this find so late in the game is almost a tragedy for me.

Later, I journeyed into the macaroon kingdom with yet another friend, at Ladurée in Covent Garden. It was a tolerable enough evening that I could brave outdoor seating overlooking the shenanigans in the courtyard below from street entertainers. The real stars were our treats, mine being the religieuse pistachio, and my girlfriend had the rose raspberry.

Finally, I brought it back home, almost, when I had lunch with my cousin the day after, at Mango Room in good ole Camden Town. Though initially I was averse to going to a Caribbean restaurant, only because I live there and can get authentic Caribbean dishes anytime, I changed my tune when I saw the menu and then tasted the food. We both ordered the Jamaican curried goat, which was fall-off-the-bone tender, well seasoned, and in one word, fantastic. The one letdown was that the one guy who seemed to be on the frontline was not a bartender and so it made the fabulous drinks menu and the well stocked bar behind us, very pointless. Still, what a wonderful meal that was.

The hardest part of it all though, is the reality that over the next few weeks, I will need to live on carrots and rice cake to tackle the damage done to my waistline by this culinary carnage over the past 3 weeks. Still, it was all so worth it, from the tapas of Madrid, to the pizza and pasta of Rome, to the hodge podge awesomeness that is London and beyond. I loved it all. Life is beautiful.

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Sex, the City and Misplaced Friends Found Again

Well, I think I have finally settled on vacation plans. I am notoriously busy lately, notoriously exhausted all the time, and notoriously anal about planning, so clearly this is not a good combination for vacation planning. But I think I am ready. I think...

God knows I can use a break. I have not had a proper (long enough) break since before I headed to London for postgrad life. It dawned on me when a friend pointed it out the other day - I went from a solid, stressful year of studying, straight into a hectic, busy and sometimes stressful job (with early morning wake up calls and late night bed times), without a break in the middle. So guess what? I am exhausted.

I am so looking forward to just relaxing - 3 weeks of doing nothing but stuff I absolutely love doing. I was not at all excited about it before, with everything that has been going on in my world, but by now, I am ready to just kick the heels into a corner and get some new flip flops and bring my Sex and the City alter ego back to life. And I will be able to blog more as well. I know you have missed the excitement!

The IYS application form. Wow. Takes me back.

What is also a bit exciting is that I will get to meet a penpal I have had since I was 11 years old. For my Trini friends (of my generation), do you remember IYS? IYS - International Youth Service. It was an international penpal service that set kids up with penpals from all across the world. I had a penpal from the US, the Bahamas, South Africa and Italy. It was all the rage when I was in Form 1. You just needed to pay $5 and choose 4 countries from where you would have liked to get a penpal, and you were set. Back in the day of snail mail - you know where you used a PEN, wrote LETTERS on PAPER, put it in an ENVELOPE, put a STAMP on it, and sent it via AIR MAIL - getting a penpal letter was exciting. I never heard back from 3 of my 4 penpals but there was one who sent me back really fun and interesting letters about her life in her city.

Sadly we lost touch after a while. Fast forward some 20 years later, and I cannot even remember how or why, but I Facebooked her name, and found someone with the same name. I sent her a message asking if she had ever had a penpal from Trinidad, and waited. Not long after, I got a response. No, she did not have a penpal from Trinidad, but she sent me this message (names changed obviously - gotta leave some suspense!!)

I have to tell you that I'm not your pen pal, but...listen to me....about 7 months ago a friend of mine was searching for my Skype account and she found another (Jane Doe) in Doeville, so she was the wrong person, but my friend told me about her and since that day we stay in contact. We have the same name.....and surname...and they are very rare alone so name and surname together practically impossible. We are the only 2 Jane Doe in Doeville. So I wrote to her, and waited to ensure that it was her... 

AND SHE WAS REALLY YOUR PEN PAL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Isn't that the greatest story? Wrong Jane sent my contact info to Right Jane and that was it. We resurrected what was a paper-based friendship and began corresponding again on social media, and now we are taking this show on the road! So after 20 years, on my much needed vacation, we will meet for the very first time and catch up and have girls' time! So you will just have to wait and see how it turns out. Until then, I have reports to vet, articles to finish and design concepts to scrutinise. It is not always fun! lol.

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Offloading the Wagonists

On or off the wagon?

Happy New Year everyone and wishing you an excellent 2013. Now as I said, while I do not make hard and fast resolutions, each year I try to cleanse my life, in much the same way like I am presently detoxing my body of all the nasty (albeit yummy) stuff I put into it over the holidays.

One of those toxins - the bandwagonist!

A bandwagonist, or wagonist, is

...someone who mindlessly goes along with an action or idea, without any real reason, other than other people are doing it.

It can also refer to a person who tends to not really be committed to something or someone as the case may be, and gets on and off that wagon when it suits them.

As per the second definition, there are lots of them out there in real life. People who flip flop, or who align themselves to something or someone when they damn well feel like it.

For example, while I took a mini hiatus from the gym for the holidays (bad, bad, bad idea, friends), I am one of a small and loyal group of pre-dawn gymophiles - always in the gym before 5am and not for any reason but it's part of my routine (whether I look like Jane Fonda or not). Here comes Carnival season and now I am going to have to contend with the once-a-year fitness buffs - all those men and women who want to work miracles with their 1-packs and glutes so they can fit into skimpy costumes in less than a month's time. Fighting for equipment, showers etc. After Carnival, they're gone until next year around this time.

Gym wagonists.

But that is tolerable in the greater scheme of things. However, the ones who "commit" themselves to you as  a friend, or whatever, when they feel like it; when it suits them; when they are single; when nothing else is going on in their lives; when they need money; when they need a shoulder; when you can offer them something; and then when things get great - when they are living well; eating well; when they find that girl or guy, they jump off the friend wagon.

Friend wagonists.

Those are the worst kind, and I am locking the wagon so they don't get back on to inflict their flip-floppiness on my life. It's just too tiring at this point.

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Desperately Coping with Loneliness

I saw a video about this guy, Jeff Ragsdale, who in the height of the breakup-related depression, just posted flyers around Manhattan asking people to call him. He was so lonely and on the brink that he just printed a bunch of posters with his phone number and put them up across the city, hoping someone would reach out to him. Well, someone did not reach out to him - MANY people reached out to him and soon his desperate plea for companionship went viral and became a global show of solidarity. As he says in the video, a city like New York, even with all the hustle and bustle, can be a lonely place and having lived across the pond myself, I know big cities, even with all the stuff going on around you, can really feel like a lonely and empty place. I think many people managed to relate to his poster.

Now while I am not sure whether I would post a flyer around the place inviting the unwashed masses to call me, you can certainly understand the need for an ear, a comforting word, when one feels like the last and only person in the middle of a busy metropolis. And it speaks to the basic human need for companionship and solidarity.

In this case, this guy, who apparently has suffered with depression and other related issues all his life, found a lot of comfort in the voices of strangers, many of whom called from outside the United States. I am sure he is not sad and depressed today, as he has just launched a book based on these calls and the various experiences people shared with him - some consoling him, others looking to be consoled.

This entire story just highlights a couple things - people are still amazing, even as the world news, on a daily, even hourly basis, paints humanity as money-grubbing, selfish cretins; and secondly, you can make money from just about anything in the US of A. Even from a book about phone calls.

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Drunken Chicken Master: Hosting and Toasting

Cooking with red wine

Well, I had my usual get together of friends yesterday and the lime* was great. Tiring, but great. I love entertaining but Lord, it can be exhausting especially when the catering team is a team of one – moi. On paper, it was nothing too hard – a couple casseroles, some rice, salad, chicken – but of course you want stuff to taste good. Lol. Luckily, it seems like everyone enjoyed themselves and more importantly, enjoyed my cooking (as it should be!).

I tried a new chicken dish yesterday - chicken in a red wine and mushroom sauce, which I was so happy with in the end. Woot woot! The keys to success?

- A good red wine. Most people think if you buy a cheap wine then it is good just for cooking. I think if that crap is not good enough to drink, then it won’t be good enough for your food either. I was trying hell hard to open the cheaper, albeit still perfectly good and drinkable bottle of merlot but my supposedly universal wine opener was not cooperating on the wider mouth of this ridiculous bottle, time was upon me and I needed to grab a shower, and I thus had to use my good shiraz-cabernet. In the end, it worked!

- Don’t drink the wine while cooking.  You don’t want to pass out and have the chicken or the sauce burn do you? Luckily for me, it was red wine and not white, so the urge to pour myself a glass while the apron was still on was not strong. The chicken, the sauce – all survived to make a good and lasting impression.

I was really pleased with my chicken and with everything else in fact. But believe me, the next time I will either not be hosting, or will be making sandwiches. It is not something one can do every day unless there is the added incentive of being paid to do it, à la professional caterer.

I had maybe one drink too many yesterday and I always end up mixing, cause I must have wine and I MUST have a cocktail (or 4) so after the dishes were done, I crashed like a stone on the bed. But all in all it was a good lime. Looking forward to my roti lime tomorrow and not just because I am the curry master. I love Christmas holidays and all but if I have to eat another piece of ham, I may stab myself.


*Lime – (according to Urban Dictionary)
Of Caribbean origin; often heard from a Trini. Closest American translation is "hanging out," but it can be used to describe a party, a planned or unplanned social gathering, or just some people sitting around, killing time together. It's a Trini's favourite pastime.

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Leaving on a Jet Plane - The Sequel

It's been a rather hectic couple of weeks. I have been here, there and everywhere, both physically and emotionally. I spent a few lovely days out of London, some lovely afternoons in and about London, and embarked on the painful process of packing (I am surely the Imelda Marcos of clothes) and saying goodbye. Many curse words were uttered (packing) and many tears were shed.

But the adventure carries on. See you on the other side of the Atlantic.

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Leaving on a Jet Plane - The Runny Mascara-free version

Tequila!

I have been just awful with my blog and Twitter and all the stuff that helped me stave off insanity while I was still officially a student. But you see, I have my life back and I can do things I enjoy doing without guilt or regret - like going out, watching movies, having drinks, reading books. It's wonderful. So forgive me for being very absent. Absent online. Very alive offline!

Well, my time here in London is also drawing to a rapid close (2 more weeks, though I have not booked a flight yet, so you neverrrrrrrrrr know) and I will admit, it terrifies me a bit.

On the one hand, I am happy to be going back to regular blue skies and sunshine. My skin has taken a real beating in this dry, cold weather. I slather on copious amounts of shea butter lotions every day to avoid looking dry and (n)ashy, not to mention scratchy, and maintain the "mmm...mmmm" goodness that is my chocolatey body. lol. On a serious note, I am happy to be seeing my family, as crazy as they make me sometimes, and my nephew especially cause I have already missed almost a year of his life. My friends - yes, everyone keeps emailing me about how much they miss me and want to see me etc. I have a job to go back to - which puts me in a much better position than most people who have to go back home after a year away.

On the other hand, and I have not said this out loud to many people, there are also reasons I am not too excited about the prospect of going home either, some of which I would be wise to not discuss in any detail here, for real real life/offline life reasons. On a lighter note, one of my friends sent me an email on Friday saying he did not want me to stay here, and would prefer me back home. My reply was "It is funny how everyone wants me home to see me, but when I am there, noone makes the effort". I got no response. lol. But when I wrote this post, it pretty much summed up what I meant by that comment.

Now my girlfriends had husbands and babies and somehow, despite our best efforts, we just did not do things together anymore that often - not even sister neutral things - things both the wives/mummies and the unencumbered single friend could do and enjoy. 

While I go about life on my own beat, not really dependent on anyone really, it's been nice to have people do things with again. I think hearing my own voice over and over while doing hours and hours of transcription reminded me that I sometimes need to be around and enjoy life with other people. Leaving behind the people I have become close to here will be tough. There are a few who have made being here worthwhile and for whom I would probably endure a winter for, and as you know, I HATE winter. That's one of the hardest parts - the people part. I have spent the weekend with some of my favourite people here and I would like to believe that the separation anxiety will be on both sides. I will truly truly miss these people.

No matter what life brings you, the people you meet always leave the greatest impact. And after countless adventures and disasters, I have managed to meet awesomeness. It's kinda hard to leave awesome behind.

Professionally, I can learn a lot here, but one would need to actually get a job wouldn't you? That's the tricky bit. Complications of visa, money,blah blah blah. Don't want to get into the blah blah blahs.

There is a certain independence I have in Trinidad, for sure - including private transportation. Big deal, people, and I say this after another night of running to get the bus to avoid a 30-45min wait in the cold. I really want to reiterate how much I hate public transportation. lol. But there is also an independence and greater courage I have honed while being here. It has been good in that I have learnt a lot more about myself - I have been thrust into a much bigger world than I was accustomed to and really had to dig deep to discover who I am, how deep my strength ran, how completely fabulous and amazing I am. I can tell you typing this is making me well up a bit but I am truly grateful for the experience. I have had a great many adventures here in ole Blighty and what does the future hold? Hopefully even more amazing new experiences.

I wholly believe that when life gives you lemons, you get some salt and some tequila and take a shot - and make the most of it. And so I will.

And, to cope with the separation anxiety and small island stagnation, when life, or the embassy, gives you a visa, you go to Miami for some much needed retail therapy...just to ease one's way back into it, you understand. Baby steps. lol.

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Walk with Me to Italy, to Baita Bondella

The view from the terrace of Baita Bondella - postcard ready!

I love travel and I love food. Put the two together and it's a wonderful trip. My trip to Florence has so far been my best culinary travel experience to date, but I still have many unexplored dining room and kitchens to encounter. One of them, if I want to live to see another birthday, will be soon, and will take me back to Italy but this time to the lovely region of Como. I have friends all over the place - Trinis at that. There is a saying, "Trinis in everything, like salt" and that rings true cause we are everywhere. Even near the stunning Lake Como.

It is there that my friend, from as far back as high school, the ever lovely Kisha and her husband, Stefano run Baita Bondella, gleefully located at Via del Colme 9, Brunate, Como, where it offers a magnificent view over the Brianza region and Milan. 

Having been a patron of their Tobago-based establishments, I can give an honest-to-goodness plug for the personal attention to detail in everything they do - from the way Stefano prepares every dish, to the extra personal service and the genuine warmth they bring to the experience, whether it be via their daughters' childish charms, or, dare I say, Kisha's unique Trini touch (we Trinis are fun people!). It is indeed a true family experience, coupled with the pristine environment - clean, fresh air, nature trails, and if you're lucky, you can sometimes spot some of the other residents like deer and wild boar.

Dining at Baita Bondella

Kisha recommends the brasato with polenta, and polenta with cheese. They also have a wide variety of wines, which should satisfy even the most demanding wine palate.

Previously, the Montis ran establishments in Tobago, the smaller of the two islands of my lovely homeland, Trinidad and Tobago. Having moved back to Italy, the family first settled in Puglia but I guess once a dream has been born, it's pretty hard to ignore it.

Kisha explains:

Very early in my marriage, during one of our yearly trips to Italy, my husband took me to see this lovely baita in Brunate that he and his family had run for many years. He had left it to open a trendy type thing in the centre of Como. And I commented, "Its really lovely up here. What ever influenced you to move away?" 

Famous last words. Eight years after that trip, he comes home one day ( in Puglia) to announce that he had taken up the lease at the Baita and the rest is history

A sample of what you can expect from Baita Bondella - freshly prepared food and a variety of fine wines

She loves Como, and explains why its charm enthralls her.

Well, its just beautiful. Lovely villas and palaces wrapped onto pine covered hills. Its like living in a postcard. And then, well, it is a very cosmopolitian area. Apart from the Italian dishes that one can try here, there are also Chinese resaurants and I saw an Indian one the other day. Lots of Arab stuff as well.

(No Trini roti shop. Yet. I am drafting my business plan as I type this, cause I am a wicked Afro-Caribbean curry star!)

And you can imagine, it has not been easy, with her moving miles away from her Caribbean home, her family and friends, to live in Italy. Yet, as a true adventurer, she takes it in stride. So, what are some of the unique and quirky charms that only a Trini can point out?

I still cannot get over the fact that stores close from 1 to 3 (in Puglia it was from 130 to 5) and then they reopen. What is the sense to open from 9 to 1? It has been explained to me but I still dont get it and never will. 

Pigeon peas. The only place I have been able to find pigeon peas is in a small Latin American grocery in Milan that sells it at the beauty of three euro a tin. Yes folks I pay $30TT for a can of pigeon peas!!! 

My little village is out of the main city of Como and like Princes Town (in Trinidad), we have our village intrigues, like who don’t shop there because thirty years ago, the man give me short change and that kinda stuff. 

Still getting to know the place since I have been here for a little more than two months but so far I am liking it

($30TT for pigeon peas is really rough. But then I pay almost $60TT for a roti here in London. It's tough being a Trini expat, lemme tell ya).

And in true Kisha style, and almost thinking like me, she adds,

"Oh and did I mention the fashion and the cars? I have always been dowdy and frumpy but Como is making me look like a bag lady. In need of a make over!!!!

Call Baita Bondella next time you're in the area

(Don't listen to her. She's a beautiful girl).

And when I asked her what has been the best part of the experience for her thus far, she did not answer from her seat as manageress, or as Trini expat in Italy. She answered as mummy.

Seeing my kids integrate after yet another move. I spent all my childhood in one place and I am always petrified that I am ruining my kids' childhood by continually uprooting them. So, yes that is the best thing so far - that they have new friends here, and that they are happy to be here.

Her girls are beautiful, by the way.

I plan to visit (soon, promise) so I will have photos and tales for sure, but if ever you are in Como, please do take a day to visit the area and Baita Bondella. You can tell them I sent you. No, you won't get any discounts, but you're sure to get an amazing experience. This I can guarantee!

You can also follow them on Facebook.

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How prayer saved my day and what you can do to save Trichelle

I have some girls who form the core of personal support and love in my life and for whom I would do anything, and vice versa. Beautiful, strong women who have been in my life for years and years. Earlier this week, I received the horrible news that my friend's sister is missing. It surely has to be every person's worst nightmare - to turn around and not know where your loved one is and whether they are safe, scared or alone.

It has been weighing heavily on my mind and being away from home makes one feel a bit hopeless but then we all feel that way. So while the police carry out their investigations, we wait. All any of us can do now is sit, wait, and pray for her safe return and pray for her family, who undoubtedly need all the support they can get at this time. This could be any one of us, sadly so no thought, no prayer is too small. Thanks to everyone who circulated the photos to friends and lifted the family up in prayer. Hoping for good news soon.

This being said, I have not been the sharpest tack in the drawer this week, and it took me all week to scramble some words together on a page to send to my dissertation supervisor. Not my best work but when I finally sent it off today, I decided that I also needed to eat, having not eaten a proper meal in days. So I did the whole nine yards with the cooking, rustling up a fantastic curry to go with my contraband dhalpuri roti (luckily UK Customs did not feel the need to seize this as they did my NZ cheddar). Hungry and tired, I doled out a serving of this Trini culinary goodness, set it on the table, cleaned up and then went out to put out the trash - a 15 second exercise. In less than 10 seconds, the sound no pyjama clad, fluffy socks and fluffy slippers wearing, bad hair day woman wants to hear, echoed in my ear sockets - the sound of a slamming door, automatically locking me out, while the keys jangled in the lock and mocked me from the inside. F#@^ me!

Luckily for me, two things were in my favour - 1. the neighbours were home and while #2 was the main reason I was in this predicament, with the wind from this source being the reason the door slammed behind me, still, 2. the back door was open.

This is where I put my acrobatic skills to work and for those who know what my university hall name was, this would be funny. The neighbour got out his old rickety ladder, and leaned it against the fence so I could climb up and clamber over. If you know anything about British fences, and guttering, you would know that they are basically shit. If you know anything about me, you would know that I am a true Caribbean woman with an ass and meat on the bones. To say this exercise of climbing over this fence which could barely take the weight of a Barbie doll, and praying I did not break down the entire thing was a challenge, would be an understatement. I looked for something on which to hold on to, and the guttering was as fragile as the fence so I had to hold on to the neighbour, and pray for dear life. I whispered a prayer asking first for personal safety - I did not want to have to tell my mother over Skype that I had broken anything, and also I prayed for the fence cause I am not in a financial position to help pay to repair a broken fence.

Well, I am here typing this, and the fence still stands and the curry was excellent. It just goes to show that prayer is great. Faith is powerful, no matter what the challenge - no matter how big or small, trite or life changing.

My friend's family is going through a situation I wish on noone. Please say a prayer for Trichelle and let's bring her home.

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Three Degrees of Sexy, and Four Degrees Celsius

Brrrrrr. It is biting in London today. I all but pounced on the train this afternoon, just eager to get on it. The heater is on. I refused to even go back out to put the recyclables in the bin. Nope. This is it for me.

Once upon a time I used to stay up late to watch the Oscars, but then I said to myself, these people are millionaires and I am not. I have to get up early to make a hundredth of what they make. Sleep is more important. I love movies but not to the detriment of my beauty sleep not to mention my personality. Lack of sleep + trininista = homicidal creature. And with the time difference, well...forget it. I am glad that The King's Speech won everything they should have won. I cannot comment on Best Supporting Actress cause I have not seen Melissa Leo in The Fighter, but Helena Bonham-Carter, though a bit weird, is an excellent actress and I would have liked to have seen her win. But Christian Bale got his and I am happy for that.

But my first sexy - is this woman aging at all? My God. My personal hero, this one. Stunning. My Oscar winner.


Halle Berry at the 2011 Academy Awards
Courtesy: Yahoo

 And though I am not really a techie person, this just looks sexy and I want one. The Dell Inspiron Duo convertible tablet. Not an Apple groupie really. Sorry.

The Dell Inspiron Duo Convertible Tablet - sexy

Finally, lunch with the neighbours yesterday was truly impressive. True Caribbean hospitality. Everything was so incredibly good and by the time I left their place, I was stuffed. And though Arsenal losing the Carling Cup Final jeopardised my fishcakes, she still sent over apple pie and custard, and a slice of good Barbadian sponge cake. Wicked. I can say nothing ill about my wonderful neighbours here in London. That pie was uber sexy.

Homemade apple pie, with yummy vanilla custard courtesy my awesome neighbours

My pillow right now - super sexy. I am so tired. I am going to insulate myself under the covers and try to stave off frostbite, and get some sleep in the process so I can hopefully be academically productive later.  This heater is taking its damn time to warm up my room though.

And while I may not miss out on sleep to watch a bunch of rich people collect awards, I will miss sleep to watch a bunch of Trinis fight it out for $2million on Friday night.  9.30pm start time in Trinidad, means 1.30am start time in London. God help me.

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The Rest of the World Comes to the Sunny Caribbean

Breakfast in Bed

Breakfast of champions. Can you believe I went to Tesco on Friday - got my peanut butter, got my strawberry jam, and forgot the bread? I blame the Nigerian!!! He accosted me in the bread aisle and made my thoughts murderous as opposed to carbilicious. In any event, I had to run out the house yesterday morning (not in my pyjamas) in order to stave off hunger and sure death, to get a loaf of bread! But it is just the easiest thing to wake up, slap some PBJ on a slice of bread, chuck it in the microwave for 10 secs and voila. Breakfast. I was listening to BBC last night on my way back home and heard the presenter saying she could not understand how people could eat peanut butter and jelly together. As opposed to stuff like mushy peas? Cultural distance again - another classic example. lol.

Last night we (my classmates and I), in a dire need for rum, went down to Camden to Cotton's, which came highly recommended by a couple friends. I did not doubt their judgement, mainly cause Mr Cotton's is also Mr RumFest and you know how much of a time I had there. And it is very hard for a real Caribbean soldier to mess up rum and rum-based drinks. I knew I was in excellent hands. I was not going to be subjected to stingy bartending, where there is more of the chaser than the rum, which is what I tend to experience in the pubs and other local holes. You just cannot be stingy with rum, people.

And disappointed I was not. I was wanting a daiquiri for ages and when I walked in, ordered my strawberry daiquiri and then put my lips to the glass, I was saved. Saved I tell you. It was awesome. The rum was stinging my lips. Stinging.

As an aside, no Nigerians at the bar, but Ethiopians this time. It must be an African thing to call women "sister". It is soooooooooooooooooooooooooo annoying. Can I just say this again? And dude offered to buy me a drink and when the drink got there, guess what? I had to pay for it myself. lol. Real star, he was.

Kudos to my friends for being spot on time last evening. I am generally very punctual, despite being a Trini. My people have a terrible reputation for being late all the time. However, I loathe having to wait. It really bugs me, especially if I have had to run up the street, and bust a lung, upon seeing my train lingering at the platform just so I coud be on time to meet your ass - and then you're 25 minutes late. Pisses me off.

But we all had a really good time. It was like the United Nations up in the place. Let's see - French, Swiss, Spanish, American, Trini. Very cool. The food was spectacular. Though not Trini food - I mean, we cannot get perfection - everything was great. I had some accra or what was listed on the menu as saltfish fritters, and the mixed jerk grill - chicken, pork ribs, pork belly and lamb. Oink oink oink. All with rice and peas and fried plantains. The majority of the table tried the Beef Pepperpot which I also sampled which was pretty great. Thankfully, the Trinidadian seafood curry, which my anti-spicy Spaniard (oxymoron!!) had was not at all spicy, though how Trinidadian it was, I am not quite sure. But it looked and smelled fantastic. The braised salted beef also looked decadent. The smells from it all - to die for. And the Europeans and American all enjoyed it. I am so glad. Caribbean forever!

I would highly recommend the daiquiris and the Jamaican Mule which was like liquid orgasm and I fear I may be taking the train back to the bar this weekend just to get me one of those. I would highly recommend Cotton's. Special thanks to our waitress, Christina, who was a peach.

We followed this with a short turn at BarFly, which was bumpin' but I was too tired to enjoy it and I checked out after maybe an hour. I also am growing quite weary of this night bus nonsense. The bus ride takes decades and it's cold, and you're shivering in this bus for an hour or more, and I just did not have the stomach for it so I rushed to London Victoria to catch the last train home. I really miss private transportation. The awful weather and public transportation just do not mix.

Despite being extremely tired, I had a really nice time. It was like being back home without getting on a plane. I was happy. Very much so.

Then... I walked outside. It was bitterly cold. Where on earth is spring, London? I got home and I was layered in jumpers and in socks and shivering under my blanket, with the heater on. Buzzkill. Port of Spain, take me.

Today, I am continuing my Caribbean vacation as my very sweet Barbadian neighbour has invited my cousin and I to lunch. I hope she has fishcakes on the menu. Her fishcakes are DA BOMB!!!

If my trainer could see my fat ass now. Maybe I should just brave the chill and go jogging when I have free time. Load up my Machel tunes on the MP3 player and hope for the best.

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Fabulous Friday...Not

Warning: This blog entry is very lame. I am waiting for my show to download.

London is extra grey today and add some crazy winds, bad stomach pains and exhaustion and the chicks' night out became a chick night in. I am so tired and after a Tesco ready meal of chicken chow mein, some orange juice and some meds, I am tucked in under the covers - at 5.23pm. Oh sure I have set the "assignment wake up call" alarm but this is as good as it gets this Friday evening, especially based on how I feel physically at the moment. It's not a great feeling. So red light district this is not. But it does not get better than this for me. The party is here. In this bed. With a heated sweater and fluffy socks. And mini doughnuts. I feel better already!

And even better - cheese!

Thanks to smashing Shala for the cheese delivery, straight from New Zealand via Trinidad. I saw the Sainsbury's British cheddar cheese shed a tear as I placed this magnificent block of "down under" goodness in the top drawer of the fridge. It takes very little to make me happy. It was also nice to hang out with the Shals today and catch up.

Streaming last night's episode of Grey's Anatomy, and then I will take a much needed nap and hopefully wake up feeling inspired to work on this assignment. That's a big "hopefully".

Sorry this was not more exciting than this but life happens.

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New Year Celebrations in London

When I opened my eyes at minutes to 2 this afternoon, I pulled the curtain to see what 2011 looked like in the day. It looked just like 2010 did 24 hours before - grey and bleak. My stomach was also bleak...rather empty and I just inhaled carbs and copious amounts of orange juice.

And I did say I woke up at minutes to 2 this afternoon, after ringing in the new year with friends at a bar/club in London. We almost ended up ringing the new year in the queue, until one dude started complaining to the owner - a rather unfortunate looking character who thought he was God's gift with his hair plugs and his shiny suit - with support from yours truly, and when the countdown began, I was indoors, in the queue at the bar. lol. But it was a great evening with friends, and lots of memorable highlights such as:

- Friend #1 (shall remain nameless) pissing in the sink at McDonald's because...well...he just had to go. I may never use a public bathroom again, and I scarcely do it now as it is
- Friend #1's friends (none of whom were quite sober) picking up a stray at McDonald's and by stray, I don't mean Sparkie. Just some random girl, named Miranda, who suddenly was part of our group
- Getting lost, asking Londoners for directions and them too drunk to be of any use - dude told me the street we were looking for was in Soho when the map clearly showed the street was right there somewhere.
- Miranda trying to pick fights with random black girls in the queue. I said silently to myself, Who on earth is this girl, and why is she being a nuisance? I will not be getting my hair pulled in a fight for some stranger
- Some crackhead looking person, clearly high on something, trying to pick a fight with me but as I told her, when she can be as stunning and lucid as I was, then try again. I think I might have been the only sober person in London last night!
- Miranda finally leaving, but via ambulance, because she was so wasted they had to call the NHS for her, after she apparently almost brought up her entire digestive system on the pavement

I hope wherever Miranda is - she is okay but cannot say I was sorry to see her leave. What a nutter.

New Year's Eve in London was quite an experience. I mean, I know the Brits on a good day love their tipple but Jesus...I was at Euston station at 9.30 and people were already wasted, falling over, screaming, and just being plain annoying. By the time I was walking to my bus stop this morning, there were bodies all over the pavement, friends propping up friends on benches...crazy. My New Year's Eve parties back home were always on the "bourgie" end of the spectrum so this...lol...was different.

But as we mention bus, it's been a while since I put up one of these but this was seriously called for...

Mayor Johnson, I sat at Bus Stop D at St George's Circus for maybe 110 minutes waiting for a bus that was supposed to come every 30 mins. I can now tell you every bus that services SE London - the N1, the 63, 453 etc, because I saw them at least 4 times each - thought I saw the N155 maybe about 6 times. But nowhere to be seen was my bus. Your TFL people on the street were very helpful, and after 100 minutes called in to see where oh where was my bus because I sat at the bus stop, not drunk, not falling over, not being a menace - but very quietly, albeit angrily, nursing what was a cold in remission, hoping it would not come back a second time.

Mr Bus Driver, forgive me for giving you a look laced with acid and not returning your "Happy New Year" when you finally got there - but you surely could understand my vexation at having to start my new year with an almost 2 hour wait in the dropping temperatures for a bus and then having to sit and listen to some drunk female cuss her mother on the phone in a most vile and alarming fashion. Oh London...

Other than that, and the fact that I must now open a textbook on the first day of the year, 2011 promises to be awesome.

Oh, I also got my delivery yesterday. I love sparkly stuff!

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Back up the Hill

In just a week's time, my high school class will hold our 13 year reunion. Even with Facebook and all the other social networking machinations over the years, meeting up in person will always trump cyber contact. Some of the stories that I have already been reminded of have made me snicker. The infamous "ass of 1995" sign. I cannot believe I forgot about that. Of course you know the sign originally said Class of 1995 but somehow the letters "c" and "l" wanted to go party, and in the middle of a sober moment, because we attended a school where girls were quiet and prim, when the letters slowly slid down the curtain, leaving just "ass of 1995", I really think it was too much for our conservative pretence. I still cannot remember in great detail the food fight which followed but it apparently happened, but thinking about how simple life was back then makes me want to go back there for a minute.

Now so many years later, with some of the girls from that moment, laughing their heads off at a sliding sign now being wives and mothers, and entrepreneurs and career divas, it's awesome to know that we all did alright. That we turned out pretty damn good and that the 5, 7 or 2 year experience shaped who we are - the years of scolding from our teachers, of being told ladies should only cross their legs at their ankles and not their knees, of running half dressed from the gym to science or history class, or eating each other's sandwiches cross legged near the dorm or in the auditorium, or facing the embarassment of being sent under the tamarind tree for all the school to see that we were miscreants. The lunchtime rush to the cafe to buy slices of nasty pizza from Lue-Shue or cherry slushies, forging notes so we could go down High Street at lunchtime to lime, or for the CXC Info Tech class, before Birbal drove up the hill in his green Sunny (saw him at Miami International in December by the way...he has not changed a bit). The retarded way we used to act when we had a lunchtime function and we invited the boys as guests because we were so starved of testosterone that our estrogen levels were off the charts. The silent and sometimes not so silent war we had with that "other girls school down the hill". Through Chaucer, Shakespeare, hydrochloric acid, sin and cosine (yuck), Amerindians and Inquisition, ser and etre - we still managed to find moments to laugh, to be mean and nasty little creatures (leaving soiled items on teachers' chairs) and to make friendships that have lasted longer than we expected.

And now as some of us are at crossroads of our lives, we meet again. It should be a great evening and I cannot wait to see you all. After my football. (I just had to say it). Don't forget your photos and stories, ladies.
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Photo credits: Therese C-T.

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