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A little post I wrote in September but didn't get around to publishing.

I'm Scottish.  Mostly.  I was born in the land of the heathens, as was my father and his father before him.  Actually, should you care to look, you'll find various aunts, uncles and cousins scattered all across the highlands, from both sides of my family.  I like Scotland, in all its backward wildness, and despite having barely lived there, I always feel an otherwise inexplicable feeling of 'home' (cheesy as that is).  When I moved to Edinburgh last year, I had no apprehensions about the city or the people, and felt absurdly at ease wandering the streets alone aimlessly (although admittedly everyone feels that way about Edinburgh).  Perhaps the best thing about being in Scotland is that I rarely have to repeat my name, or spell it out before it's understood (Joe Bloggs and Emma Smith, this might go over your head, but I'm sure anyone who has a remotely awkward name - or two - will know what I mean).  I have the heritage, suffer with the colouring and know the lingo.  My surname supposedly dates back to one of the original Scottish clans, meaning I even have my own family tartan.  Bar the accent and a few addresses, I consider myself fairly Scottish.

That said, most of the places I have lived have not been in bonny Scotland.  I've lived a mildly nomadic life, moving from Ely to Norwich to Cambridge, with a couple of different houses in each place.  In fact, I've lived at 21 addresses so far.  So I've never really felt that I've lived anywhere for long enough to authentically describe it as "home".  I've now been living in or around Cambridge since I was eight or nine.  Despite this, I won't tell anyone (at least without a great deal of reluctance) that I'm 'from' Cambridge.  I'm not a local.  It's not where I belong.

Anyway, today I caught the bus into Cambridge for a brief meeting.  £3.90 for a return ticket.  THREE POUNDS NINETY (the Scot in me was not happy, but then, the student part of me was too lazy to cycle, so I can't really complain).  After my meeting, I started heading back towards a bus stop.  There isn't actually a stop for my route that's particularly near the meeting-place, so I had to walk towards "old town" a little bit.  

About halfway to the stop, I passed along the top of Bridge Street, which - for those who don't know -  is crammed full of cobblestones, boutique shops with rustic fronts, elegant restaurants, churches, a little bridge over the Cam and university buildings - essentially everything "Cambridge" bundled into a few hundred yards.  

Normally I just see it as a crowded lane, filled with river touts, arsey cyclists, lethal buses and stupid tourists.  Today however, it looked absolutely stunning.  Maybe it was the sunshine bouncing off the brass flowers that are studded into the pavement, or maybe it was just that a short walk would mean a longer and more convoluted bus ride home (therefore making that £3.90 stretch a liiiiiitle bit further), but I thought to myself, "oh, I'll just take a picture of how pretty the folk museum looks", and then "oh, the river looks nice, too" before strolling down towards the round church, nipping into Hardy's gorgeous old-style sweet shop (very helpful staff, thank you) and taking a couple more pictures along the way.  Before I knew it, I was practically in the centre of town, and still I was surrounded by bikes chained to iron railings, little patches of trimmed lawn, university crests and wide, clean, flagstoned pavements.  There is no denying that Cambridge is a beautiful city, and generally the people are a pretty good batch, too (no matter how much we'd like to deny it).  The river, the university, the wide open spaces and the pompous students - whilst I wouldn't want a whole world like it, there's nothing actually wrong with the inherent Cambridge-ness 

I guess what I'm trying to say is, no matter how cool it is to dislike where you're from, today I'm quite proud to consider myself Cambridgian.  By no means do I wish to stay here longer than I have to, but when I do finally escape I know there will be some pleasure in knowing that I can return to peaceful, historic Cambridge.  I will miss the things that are normal here and nowhere else; cycling on a bike with a wicker basket, punting down the river on a summer's day and the bemusement at a non-native asking "where can I find the university?".  My birth-city and the city where I live are pretty different, but you know what?  I don't think either of them are sh*tholes.  So there.

bit blurry - I blame the bus windows.

2013

My excuse for not posting in a while is just that I have been so gosh-darned busy.  Or at least it was going to be my excuse, until over the holidays my family pointed out that actually my entire year has been fairly eventful.

365 days ago I was in Florida, with my boyfriend.  We had 11 days crammed full of all the touristy stuff - Disney, SeaWorld and Universal (yep, including Harry Potter World).  It was sunny and warm, and we ate more food than most people probably do in a month.  Definitely a nice way to see in the New Year.

Okay, so this is 367 days ago if we're being precise.

Fast-forward a few weeks and I was sitting (and failing) my driving test, before re-taking it a couple of weeks later, and passing.  For a bit more pressure, shortly after this were my final exams for my degree.  These were a total breeze, and rather than aggressively cramming everything I'd ever learned into my brain, I definitely just sat back, painted my nails and meditated.  "Zen" is what my exam-period was.

Yeah, right.

Average revision session, courtesy of my instagram.

At least the exams paid off.  Come July, I was graduating with a 2:1.  The weather was gorgeous (although hideously sweaty for those of us in gowns), and I couldn't have been prouder of my friends graduating around me, with the grades we had worked our little socks off to achieve.

The least sweaty photo I could find

Before the terror of being an alumnus could set in, I ran away for a month in Thailand.  I won't go into detail (there's always the recap I wrote here if you haven't seen it already), but it was the most amazing month of lying around on stunning beaches, getting delightfully tipsy on Chang and sweating around stalls of street food and neon vests.  It's amazing how short a month can feel.

A day of particularly bad weather.

We landed back home with a bump - straight into job-hunting and the endless rounds of applications and unsuccessful interviews.  It seemed for a while that everyone around me was landing cushy roles in fancy companies, and I was stuck on Jobseekers Allowance, being sent home early from assessment centres for reasons employers didn't even care to divulge, and being offered positions that weren't in the industries, pay range or locations I was hoping for.

Somewhere in this terrifying rut, I turned 22.

*not actual birthday cake

And then at the beginning of November I got an interview for a company I thought were rather nice and, as luck would have it, they thought I was rather nice too.  Based about 30 miles from where I was living, I suddenly needed a car, or even better, a flat and a car.  Five days after getting the call, Bingo the Citroen C3 was mine, and three days after that, I was moving my vast collection of stuff into a cosy little two bed, only 10 minutes away from my new job, which started the following Monday.  Where I had previously felt like I was on the world's slowest bus into adult life, I seemed to be stepping off of a bullet train into the world of 9-5.

Housewarming gift - I ate the rest before the shutter closed.

Out of sheer stubbornness I decorated my little home for Christmas, even though it feels a bit sad, rather than festive if you're by yourself.  I can't really say what it felt like to spend the season alone, as most of the time I was actually with the fella, family friends.  I did try my hand at being a domestic goddess by cooking a roast - somewhat compromised by the fact that I don't actually have a dining table, and that I left the potatoes until LAST to prepare (d'oh) - but it was a start.  Give me a couple of years and I'll be mashing swede and stuffing a turkey (or not) like a pro.

My handiwork

Not my handiwork.  Sneeze; you bake a LOT.

And now we're here; January 2014.  Of course, just like everyone else I have personal goals and aspirations for the year, but given that "the only things I didn't get round to were getting married and having a baby" (thanks, Grandma), I think my main aim is to give myself some time to get bored.  I'm going to schedule in some "me" time to procrastinate and relax without the guilt of doing the same thing at uni - I'm not going to pretend I didn't chill out, even in 3rd year, but it was coupled with the knowledge that I SHOULD have been revising/working/reading (or, more accurately, the guilt of knowing that I should be feeling guilty, but wasn't). Of course I'll be using a good percentage of my weekends to visit London, and I expect now I'm back in the South I'll be around for my friends (and their new additions) a lot more than I've been able to be previously. On top of that, I plan to play my piano again, get back into running when the weather warms up, take a few weekend breaks in Europe, and finally, FINALLY play Lego Lord of the Rings to at least 99% completion.  Baby steps though, right?

It's a big goal, but hopefully by the time I reach 23 I'll be hitting my stride at this whole "life" thing.  I might not quite feel like a fully-fledged adult (at least I hope I won't), but watch this space.

Baggage Reclaim

I've been back for just over a week from our month-long stint around Thailand, and have already made it up to cloudy little Lancaster, which, needless to say, feels a million miles away from where we've just come from.

The original plan for this post was to whip up a couple of lists; one that included of some of the things I would really miss about Thailand, and the other detailing a few of the reasons why it would be so good to be back home.  The intention was also to write this up at Abu Dhabi International, where we were supposed to have a two hour respite from our 13 hours in plane cabins...  As ever though, it seemed like time sped up as we got further from our tropical paradise and closer to little ol' England - our flight arrived late, leaving us with about ten minutes to walk through security and back to our departure gate and boarding our next flight.  I had hoped to have time to finish this post after getting back to my Mum's, but what with unpacking our washing, distributing holiday trinkets and the obligatory photo-sharing with the family, somehow the time slipped away there, too.

Anyway, as I've finally got down to planning and writing these lists, I've found that actually most of the Thai peculiarities that were initially daunting have become comfortingly familiar to me over the last month, and conversely, the exotic spoils that made our trip so exciting - well, they're just no comparison for the home variety.  So, without further delay or ado, I present to you my list of what has made both leaving Thailand so difficult, and arriving at Heathrow such a relief.


1) Weather

I'm a Brit, so I'll get it out of the way first.  Don't get me wrong, nobody could complain about the clear blue skies, the gorgeous golden sun and the perfect gentle breeze to take the edge off the heat.  That 34-degree heat was relentless though, and as soon as the wind dropped (Koh Tao), or the sun hid behind a layer of city cloud (Bangkok), the sweat hit.  I'm not just talking about a brisk-walk-to-the-bus-stop sweat - I mean racetrack sweat; sauna sweat.  On top of that, to break the sodden humidity, it did occasionally shower.  And by "shower", I mean the heavens opened and unleashed a tropical rainstorm that on several occasions cut the water and electricity in one of the more remote guesthouses we stayed in.  Thuderstorms are nice at home, aren't they?  You can turn the lights off and open the curtains and relish the possibility of an exotic stalk of light cracking across the sky.  Well it's a bit different when you don't have a choice.  No aircon, no showers, no toilets, no kettle, no cookers - just waiting out the storm.

Taxi-boats fleeing the impending rainstorm

I guess the weather was decisive though - here we're stuck with weather so drab that you can get away with packing a light jacket and you'll be pretty much sorted for any occasion.  The same light jacket in Thailand will get you nowhere at all.  Feel some spits of rain?  Ditch the brolly 'cause you'll only get drenched anyway - head for a bar and wait 30 minutes for the sunshine to reappear.

2) Critters

Mmmm... Cockroaches, rats and stray dogs with heart-wrenchingly mangled limbs were definitely not on my holiday must-see list.  Nor was getting more mosquito bites than I could bear to count on my must-do list.  Nor sharing my beach with ten million tiny crabs that emerged from the sand and made it look as if the whole shore was crawling.  Eurgh. Why are bugs and beasts so much more unpleasant abroad?

In fairness, I will miss laying about and watching giant butterflies and vibrant dragonflies darting above the pool, and my first encounter with a firefly (although initially terrifying) was memorable to say the least.  I will also miss having skinny little feline companions at dinner, looking up from beneath the table with their great big "feed me" eyes before disdainfully stalking off when they realise you've only ordered a drink (my chubby little cat at home doesn't quite pull this off).  I just won't miss them THAT much.  On the whole, the interesting creatures we encountered while away just weren't my fave.  I can save myself from the odd spider, just keep your roaches and centipedes and other creepy-crawlies away.  Far away.

a sleepy dinner companion on Koh Samui

3) Thai Service

I'm using this term loosely.  Yes, it's annoying in this country that when you need a taxi or a bus there is never one around.  In Thailand there is always someone a few steps away offering a tuk-tuk, taxi cab or taxi scooter - how helpful, right?  Yep, SUPER helpful when you've CLEARLY JUST GOT OUT OF A TAXI.

 And Thai table service is a phenomenon in itself!  You seat yourself, they bring menus, and after about a minute, maybe a minute and a half, they're back to take your order, regardless of whether you've even turned the first page.  Of course, you can ask them for another few minutes, to which they'll politely take a single step back from the table, and continue to watch as you pick your food.  Apparently they don't feel the awkwardness.  They're also pros at serving one of you their food about ten minutes before the other (obviously just bringing it out when it's ready), and then clearing any empty plate, regardless of whether everyone at the table is finished - again, just a little quirk that differentiated Thai and British dinner routines.

ideas on "standard dining" differ completely across cultures

At least it was prompt though; nothing drives me more crazy than slow service, which we are notoriously bad for.  The whole dinner trip in Thailand would generally take about 30-40 minutes, which maybe isn't that relaxing or romantic, but when all I want is a reasonable meal at a good price, I resent waiting for the food for much longer than it's going to take me to eat it!  Thai restaurants definitely need to brush up on their dining cues, but I think our servers could learn a lot more from them.  The whole dining debaucle brings me neatly onto my next point though...

4) Food

About two weeks in, I got really homesick for western food.  Chip-shop chips, in particular, but also pizza (they don't quite get the tomatoes right in Thailand), non-seaweed-flavoured crisps and just about any kind of sweet that wasn't dried fruit.  This passed pretty quickly though (aided massively by the discovery of a good curry house, a couple of fantastic Tex-Mex bars - we all knew I'd sniff them out - and a place that did authentic, home-cooked chips), and now I'm back I definitely miss Thai food.  Don't get me wrong, I didn't eat anything "weird" - I didn't even dare try a fresh coconut - but considering what a fussy eater I am, I did branch out quite a lot.  Thai food is generally quite spicy, sometimes unbearably so, and on more than one occasion we deliberately asked for or opted for the milder meals, but between us we had a couple of hot curries, soups and rice dishes, which I'm glad I tried.  When we got back we were pretty surprised to find that our much-anticipated, home-coming curry - from the usually fantastic takeaway in my village - was heartbreakingly bland and relatively tasteless.  Somewhere along the line we had become accustomed to the variety of spices and flavours imbibed in every Thai dish. 

pad thai, thai-style rice with chicken, chicken with cashew nuts

Anyone who knows me can vouch for how unadventurous I usually am with food,  but most Thai cuisine isn't really that far away from the stuff available at Chinese takeaways, and I'll be incorporating a lot more noodles, soy sauce, garlic and pepper in my meals from now on.

5) "Toilets"

I'll keep this brief.  Thai sewage systems don't allow for "debris" to be flushed down the toilets, so you're armed with a "toilet hose" - or bum gun - to spray everything clean before drying up with loo roll that you then bin.  Bum gun. Google it.

The first encounter was terrifying, and it was a bit of a worry each time you were confronted with a new one (pressure and hose length can vary, you see), but actually, the standard of Thai toilets (both public and private) were generally much more consistent than the ones at home.  Heathrow arrivals, for example, had one blocked cubicle and another with a faulty lock before I found a usable one.  Although there was a lot of faffing at times (especially as a girl, to put it delicately), the bum gun was arguably very hygienic, and I can definitely see why it's caught on.  Generally speaking, the standard Thai toilet is easily on a par with UK ones.

However, I had two occasions where I longed for normality.  One was when faced with a squat toilet at a service station.  The dark green porcelain bowl was surrounded by a questionable looking puddle, and there was a pot of water to use as a flush.  Now, I'm not saying that there is a right and wrong way to design a water-closet facility, I'm just saying that I have preferences.  At the other end of the spectrum, on a brief visit to a swanky shopping centre I was mortified to experience an automated toilet - complete with a heated seat (definitely creepy) and buttons to start and stop the "bidet" and "air" function, as well as adjust the temperature and angle of said bidet and air.

I just like to have chief control over what happens to my nether regions, alright?

nobody needs a toilet pic, so enjoy the Emerald Lagoon, instead!

6) Adventure

The last thing that I will both miss and not miss at all is the adventure of it all.  The travelling experience in itself.  I didn't mind not having a plan for the most part - it was so relaxing to say "you know what, we like it here, lets ask to stay another week" - but it's when those plans don't work out that it could get stressful.  For example, we went to the main ferry agency a few days before we intended to travel, only to find that they were fully booked for the next fortnight.  An entire fortnight!  We ended up doing a panicky dash to the nearest cafe with wifi to explore our options, before calming down and realising we'd actually have been much better off all along - both financially and geographically - to go to the coach depot and book a couple of VIP seats.  Totally unnecessary stress, that you just don't get when you know the transport systems of the area, and know that if you're stuck everybody will speak enough English to help you out.  Travelling is exciting, and, maybe it's just the child in me, but getting aboard transport is exciting - in two weeks we had been on a plane, a 2-seater tuk-tuk, a 4-seater tuk-tuk, a vehicle ferry, a passenger ferry, a sleeper ferry, a bus, a coach, a VIP coach (oooooh!), a couple of scooters, a taxi cab, a pick-up taxi and a taxi boat... see why it's also exhausting?  Of course I'll miss the excitement and perils of being abroad and navigating new towns and cultures, but that's why we go "away" to do that - it's just too much to be doing every day.

Bangkok traffic.  'Nuff said.

So, there you have it - my rather indecisive summary of our trip, that somehow crams 32 days worth of adventures and 32 nights worth of sunsets and cocktails into seven measly bullet points, neither truly honouring Thai habits, nor celebrating our own.  Looking back on being away, where I indulgently slipped into an almost constant state of joie de vivre for a month, is utterly bitter-sweet, as I have re-shouldered the worries, doubts, commitments and responsibilities of being a post-graduate on a job-hunt, in grey little England - and right now it feels a lot heavier than a backpack.  At the same time though,  although I obviously can't wait for my next trip away, right now I'm more satisfied with being at back.