Not a Laugh done by Half

So we’ve been close together
For a number of days
Expressing our care
In a number of ways

I make sure that we eat well
He makes sure that we surf
We get our feet daily
In the sand and the turf

We make sure to hug lots
We’re drinking lots too
In truth, we are still finding lots
Of fun things to do

I’m proud of the kindness
In the closeness were in
I’m proud that we still think
Each other’s cute as sin

We’re not passing comment
On the same clothes we wear daily
Or the small ways in which
We drive each other crazy

We’ve only snapped once or twice
And we’ve learnt to give warning
For sure, coffee helps
Especially first thing in the morning

But mostly I’m proud
Of the way that we laugh
Gut-hurting, cheek-aching
Not a laugh done by half

Last night before bed
I had tears in my eyes
Laughing so hard I was
Clutching my sides

It happens almost daily
A competitive sport
Who can make who laugh first?
Who can garner a snort?

It’s the best thing, I think
To have someone whose funny
And who thinks you are funny
Even when things aren’t sunny

A laugh a morning, at the moment
Is the minimum count
Then a chortle in the afternoon
To top up the amount

A night time giggle
Then a side splitting guffaw
I’m now sure as days pass
This is what real love is for

I’m proud of our laughter
It helps us through the tears
Let’s laugh our way
Through the next hundred years

Seeing butterflies

I have spent the day seeing butterflies

dragonflies

pelicans in flight, three abreast

listening to the boom of waves moving with the tide

gulping crisp air

trying to meditate

meditating

then trying again, this time with my eyes open

saying hello to strangers

frying ripe tomatoes on the stove

And i am grateful for each moment of normalcy

of reprieve

each moment that I forget, just for a little while, the bigger world

and live inside my day

So i…we… forge onward with these sleepy hours

amongst the lorikeets chirps

and the News bulletins

And I remember that butterflies bring good luck upon their wings

and pelicans are not social-distancing

that the crisp air is free

and the tide, ever-changing

While strangers become acquaintances

and a lover becomes a home.

The World on Hold

If right now, your world’s on hold and you don’t know what to do,
When all the plans you made in joy just keep on falling through,
When it seems as though the world at large isn’t making any sense,
I thought I’d jot a little note to put in my two cents

People will still walk their dogs and throw a ball or two.
People still have love lives where they don’t know what to do.
There are still messages in the ether, people’s hearts out on the line
Waiting those 3 dots reply, “Are their feelings same as mine?”

There are women getting pregnant and kids learning ABC’s
There are high school students in exams using parenthesis
There are people writing cook books and musicians composing songs
There are still people searching their bedrooms for their favourite pair of thongs

What I mean to say, is all the while, the world is still a’turning
And all those hopes and dreams you have are desperate you don’t stop yearning
Erasmus students are still travelling and drinking out at bars
And people are still driving round and making out in cars

We are ok, despite the News. The world is wide and long.
And if you start to doubt it, I encourage you to play along.
Go find a patch of normal and sit there for a while.
I think you’ll find something out there that will give you cause to smile.

Rome will still be Rome tomorrow, Paris is still ‘Paree’
London bridge ain’t falling and there’s still Guinness in Tipperary!

So while plans may be slowing and you’re not sure what to do
Go live your life as best you can, till your dreams come call for you.

Buona Notte, Sogni Doro

I wake up this morning tired after a restless night of chaotic dreams
I don’t remember the plots, I just remember the feelings
Some days I love you in a way that frightens me
Other days, in loving you, nothing frightens me at all
Peace can be as scary as problems sometimes
I think we forget that
How to find the trust that the treasures will stay
How to lean into all of the good that’s on its way to us
I roll over and am cradled in the nook of your arm, one leg out of the covers, one leg in
I know you know I’ve had bad dreams
You kiss my head and stroke my arm in your waking
I stay through my alarm
I don’t move to get my usual coffee
I don’t roll out of bed I stay
Just in your arms
Until the last minute that I can
You kiss me as I stumble, full of headache, out of bed
You tell me it’s ok
Tonight, we will fold back into our sheets and into each other’s arms
As we have for hundreds of nights before this one
As we will for hundreds more
You will lie in bed and lay out your arm
An invitation that I crawl into, as I read my book and you read the news
And we will tangle our feet
And tonight I will dream in Italian,
My demons put back to sleep
And I will be making my way to your side of the bed all night
The way I have for all the nights of my life
Always to you
Siempre

Waking up in Paris...

I wake early. The double doors are slight ajar, room for the wind to whistle through and cool us in the Parisienne July. Nothing but a white linen sheet across us. This room – I wonder how many things it has been in its time. An important office, no doubt. A secret rendezvous spot, perhaps? A frustrated writer’s den? The apartment of an artist’s muse? It has elements of them all.

I slowly swivel my legs out of the bed and place my toes quietly on the floor. He sleeps too peacefully to disturb, the sheet draped only across one leg exposing his chest to the early morning air. I wrap a cotton towel around myself and go to the windows. Below us, Paris is ever so slowly waking up.

I peek the doors open to stand on the balcony. The view is unmatchable. Below me is the renowned Champs-Elysees. Paris has partied last night and now the workers are tidying away the remnants of the night before. The cobbled streets are swept, shop keepers are washing their windows. I can hear someone whistling in the distance. Somehow, even the whistling has a French accent.

In front of me, across the divide, are rows of French balconies attached to Haussmann style buildings. Cream render, wrought iron twists and turns, window frames like artists’ borders. Just behind this view peaks the Eiffel tower. He’s stopped twinkling for now. Maybe He too is waking up – a big day of attention ahead.

I walk to the edge of the balcony and place a hand on the stone railing. The ledge is cool to the touch, a refreshing feeling from the air that has already begun to warm the morning. I peer around the corner of the balcony and see the Arc de Triomphe to my left. Beautifully poised to bookend the street.  Standing vigil, tall amongst the sky line. Cars warming up their horns for the roundabout.

I breathe deeply.

This apartment is a dream. The thing of French novels inspired by French Jazz.

A big day of sight-seeing ahead of me, I turn and sneak back inside. There is always more to see in Paris. A stone unturned, a wine untasted, a gallery untouched.

A visit to the Rodin Museum is in order. I’ve heard so much about the Thinker but we’ve never been properly introduced. The macarons at La Durée await, a river cruise with a picnic along the Siene, some obligatory people watching under a blood-red awning, hot chocolate at Angelina’s and a stroll down Rue de Rivoli.

With the sun not yet quite out, I stow away back under the covers just as he stirs and throws an arm lazily around me.

“What time is it?” he grumbles, peering at me through one sleepy eye.

“Too early. Go back to sleep for a bit,” I reply, curling back under the covers to wake up again in an hour or two with the rest of the city.

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#LexDuffDoes - Little Women

Last night, Evan and I took ourselves off to see Greta Gerwig’s new retelling of an old beloved, Little Women. Originally written in two parts in 1868 and 1869, this is the latest retelling to hit Hollywood since 1994.

Prepare yourself – I’m coming out of the gate strong.

(drumroll please)

My Big Call: I think it is everything a film in 2020 should be, and everything we needed it to be. I think this movie will become, as they say, ‘one of The Greats’. The opening sequence made me nervous, as though I was in the waiting room of something brilliant being born. And I wasn’t wrong!

I won’t go into the plot too deeply, its an oldie and a goodie. If you’re of the generation who hasn’t known the novel by Louise M. Alcott growing up (or seen Joey put the book in the freezer in Friends) then I’m so excited for you. If you, like me, grew up knowing the tale, the new remake is incredibly invigorating. And not for a moment does it disappoint.

I didn’t want to talk about the finesse of the film making in a way that makes me sound wanky here. Buuuut…I did want to note that it is a brilliantly made film. With its touch of Titanic’s romanticism, Pride and Prejudice’s stoicism and Brooklyn’s bitter-sweetness, this film moved me in ways I couldn’t have anticipated. I walked out of the cinema and immediately proclaimed that I had not only liked it, but that I “adored it”. In keeping with my nature, what I actually might have said, glassy-eyed with both hands clutched to my chest was, “Oh Ev, I’d see it again right now” (cue eye-roll). I might as well have twirled my imaginary pleated skirt and bonnet right back into Cinema 8 and yelled “roll it again boys!”

But without jest, the film made me laugh with sincerity and pine for the scenery’s wide-open spaces (and maybe a life before iPhones, if I’m honest). It also had this incredible way of breaking my heart and then piecing it back together again all within a few scenes – the kind of perfectly pieced together line that is so heartbreaking and lovely it actually makes my chest hurt.

The casting is unparalleled, the costume design is fabulous and more than anything else, the script is so riveting and beautiful, I’m not sure anyone else but Greta could have done it justice. It is the created chaos of the scenes where the family are all together that encapsulate the magic of this film – a symphony of voices all speaking over one another, exactly how only a room full of a real family can be. As A.N. Devers wrote for Elle Magazine, “Little Women is genius. And Gerwig’s film might be the first to joyfully treat it with all the seriousness of that fact.”

And it would be remiss of me not to mention how bloody wonderful it was to watch a film where not only the protagonist is female, but almost ALL the leading characters are! Hallelujah! (also, Timothée Chalamet is a babe in a way I couldn’t see before he perfectly captured Laurie)

In saying that, I implore all you blokes to go and see it. It’s not like you can’t watch and relate to a film with a protagonist of the other gender to you – its what we gals have been doing for years! It is a film about family, about decisions, about love and art and finding your purpose and your passion. It’s also about how many different ways there are for a person to be. And that applies to all of us.

I can’t recommend you take yourself off to see this film enough! Truly. You’d be doing yourself a favour. Who doesn’t want to see a warm, spirited gift of a film? And if you’ve got no one to go see it with, heck, I’ll come along with you! I think this one might have a few runs at the cinema for me!

Photo - a still from the film owned by Regency Enterprises.

This morning I wake up dreaming of mountains...

This morning, I wake up dreaming of mountains.

I stir, sleepy-eyed and wanting coffee. I sit up on my elbows.

“I want to be hiking, mi amore!” I exclaim to my groggy love, his eyes still closed.

“Oh boy,” he teases, grabbing a pillow to cover his head.

“She’s not even out of bed yet, folks” he proclaims to our invisible audience.

Legs and limbs sprawled amongst the white linen sheets. The quiet whirring of the fan in the background.

I fall back into arms now outstretched onto my side of the bed.

They curl around me.

“Coffee and then the Swiss Alps it is then, huh?” he asks.

“Coffee and then…” a yawn escapes, “very soon” I reply.

and I can see them…it…us… the view

and that’s how I know we’re on our way..

At the bow of the boat...

On this Santorini day, I remember feeling so free.

Walking into the sunset, your hand in mine.

My brown skin. Your blue lived-in shirt.

Sun kissed skin and the smell of sunscreen.

A feeling and a day I return to often.

A flutter.

And now, I can feel it coming round again.

A stirring in the sails.

A whisper in the wind.

A peak around the corner.

At the bow of the boat, I’ll meet you there...

November: 5 Songs I Wish I'd Written

One thing about me: I am an avid music-listener. I listen to music almost constantly, stopping only really to listen to podcasts or talk to my nearest and dearest. I am in a constant stream of music-sharing conversation with my sister over every form of social media. Most recently, I sent her the newest clip of Harry Styles performing ‘Watermelon Sugar’ on SNL and was compelled to text her saying “I have no F*$#ing clue what this song is about but I love it”. She replied within seconds, naturally already having heard it, with “Oh dude, me too”. When we’ve gotten to ‘dude’ stage, we know we are onto a mutual-winner. Anyway, I digress.

The point is, there are songs I am always newly uncovering, old favourites that I play on repeat, songs that remind me of my childhood, songs that remind me of falling in love, songs that I must dance to at least once a week etc. I am constantly pausing a song pre-crescendo to inform Evan that he quite simply must “focus on the lyric here”.

And then there are those songs that sit in that next level category of importance. The songs I wish I had written myself with lyrical genius so obvious that I can’t find any other thought than “I know exactly how that feels”. I’ll wager you’ve had that feeling too. Poetry and prose to percussion. A lyric that somehow captures an experience you know to your core. A chord progression that gives you goose bumps. Or a tune that, without fail, makes you groove. Even if you’re waiting at the lights walking down Oxford Street to work at 8:30am (if you spot me, give me a wave)! It’s actually one of my favourite things; catching someone in their own jam with their headphones in. It always makes me smile.

So, here are some of those for me. Some you’ll certainly know. Others, maybe not. If you haven’t listened to some of these, I implore you to. They are masterful creations and worth a Friday night boogie! They are all wildly different so you’ll find your flavour.

Without further ado, I present to you, my 5 songs for November that I wish I had written myself out of pure artistic jealousy:

1.       Case of You – Joni Mitchell

By no means am I the first woman in her 20’s to fall in love with the words of this artists but I think younger generations to come must be reminded to look to the work of the past. The album ‘Blue’ as a whole was certainly a game changer, with her incredible voice and unique timing, but this song takes the cake for me. She sings of longing and loving, of indulgence and of preparing for an inevitable heartbreak without turning away.

The simplicity of the guitar behind her makes it sound almost like she’s just speaking to you like a friend telling a tale of her lover. And simultaneously, it always makes me think of my mum who introduced me to Joni Mitchell.

And the line I always wish I had written… “I remember that time you told me, you said love is touching souls, surely yours touched mine ‘cos part of you pours out of me in these lines from time to time…oh you’re in my blood like holy wine,  you taste so bitter and so sweet, oh, I could drink a case of you and still I’d be on my feet”.

It reminds me of campfires, guitars, red wine and good taste.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0YuaZcylk_o

Joni Mitchell

2.       May I Have This Dance – Francis & the Lights

This song. Where to start. It always makes me dance. I think one of the funny things about starting a relationship is having to expose your ‘likes’ and ‘dislikes’ to someone and hope they agree…or at the very least, can see your reasoning. This is a big one when it comes to music.

I remember showing Evan this song for the first time – it’s a little different. Francis & the Lights are a little fringe. I remember so wanting him to ‘get it’ – to ‘get’ why I liked it so much. Perhaps because I couldn’t quite put my finger on it myself. It reminds me of the work of Paul Simon and Sting and Genesis – weirdly reminiscent of growing up in the 90s. The beat hits you instantly and it builds beautifully. I’m listening to it now as I write this and I can’t help but move in my chair. There is so much I love about it.

The good news – Evan loves it too. This is a song we pump in the car. It’s bloody magic to share a song that you both adore grooving to. It’s a sure-fire one for any wedding playlist we would ever make.

And my favourite line? “We are bound to inherit the sins of our parents and all of the people we passed through, now we’re down to the last two”…pause….song break…perfect re-entry “MAY I HAVE THIS DANCE?”

Listen to it.

You’ll get it.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bhtoDhlffsE

Francis & The Lights

3.       Hallelujah – Haim

This song, released just this week, is really a chosen one of all of the Haim songs I adore. In saying that, there is something different about this new release. The guitar is simple, almost folky. As usual, their harmony is faultless. The song? About family. About siblings. About gratitude. It feels like another campfire tune – nostalgic, loving, joyful. I can’t listen to it enough. There is something about when these sisters sing together that sounds almost….angelic? Church-like? I don’t know the right word. There is also (for a bit of cross over) a moment in the song where the progression sounds distinctly Joni Mitchell-esque (see 1:45 minutes into the song).

As someone with a sister who I sing with, I immediately want to jam with her to this each time I click play. More than that, when they sing “Now and then I can lean my back to yours, travelling like our feet don’t touch the floor, why me? How’d I get this Hallelujah?” I feel my sisterhood. I understand that line to my core. I can see this one being worn to its bones on my playlist – it has the capacity to be an uplifter or a tear-jerker but will always be one to sing-along to.

BRAND NEW & BEAUTIFUL.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fpfJFotlENk

From the Hallelujah film clip

4.       Ophelia – The Lumineers

This one is a little different. Maybe it’s a situational choice. A memory choice. Nevertheless, its on the list. It’s a real groover. I mean, the piano, the stomping, the tambourine – all excellent. The raspy emotional voice – the perfect amount of finesse and feeling. But for context as to why I love it so much?

The setting is the Florence circa beginning of 2017. It’s about 1:30 in the morning after a night of Aperols and dancing. I’ve just realised how deep I’m in over my head with my feelings for Evan and (*typical*) panic about it. He finds me in the line at the bar and I lean in to his ear and telling him I’m going to call it a night. He, having no clue why all of a sudden, I’m finished with a night out, says he’ll walk me home. I protest that it doesn’t need to be the end of his night. He insists. Annoyingly, he knows something is up. We step out onto the quiet early morning streets of Florence and as we pass the Duomo, he sidesteps me into a narrow street and he asks me what’s going on. I tell him that I don’t know if I can plunge into this because…well because my feelings seem…I stammer about. But he knows what I’m saying. At that point, he utters the words I could never have expected but somehow were exactly the balm to my sore heart. Under the shadow of the Duomo (I kid you not) he told me he was falling in love with me. I’ll tell you, a kiss in that environment under those circumstances is one you don’t forget. My cheeks must have been luminescent. The second he said those words, I knew it was how I felt too. He took my hand, put his phone in his top pocket and out of it’s speakers, he blasted this song. Within minutes, we were literally dancing in the streets. More accurately, he was dancing. It was like a scene from a movie. One of my favourite moments of my life. I’ve adored this song ever since.

And my favourite line?

“Honey, I love you. That’s all she wrote. Oh, Ophelia you’ve been on my mind girl like a drug. Oh, Ophelia, heaven help a fool who falls in love”

Am I right?

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pTOC_q0NLTk

The dance moves in question…

5.       I Know a Place - Muna

Last but certainly not least… Muna. A band that will forever be a favourite of mine. I would heavily suggest listening to their albums over and over again. Strangely, these guys are a real grow-on-you kind of band. Their lyrics are genius. Their songs are diverse. Their expression of the human experience is spot on. Their second album ‘Saves the World’ is full of bangers. But this song is from their debut album ‘About U’. I can’t really do it justice to explain it but I’ll do my best. It’s a dance song with small hints of 80s techno but with a subtle sound. The beat makes you want to click your fingers. But it’s the words they sing here that have grasped me since the first time I heard this song.

I was in a pretty dark place personally – or rather, maybe its better to say that I felt like my spark had gone out. I had once been described as vibrant and I felt anything but. All I knew was that I wanted to feel that way again. And then I heard this song and someone very important to me at that time told me it made them think of me. A dance song made them think of me? That sounds….vibrant. I think this song will always remind me of coming back to myself. Every line of this song speaks to that period of my life. Of a past I was trying to heal from and a future I was looking toward. A future I stepped into when I stepped on a plane to London.

I know this song means a lot of different things to a lot of people but to me, it represents resilience and honesty. And so, I have it tattooed on my arm.

The Line?

“If you want to go out dancing, I know a place”

If you only listen to the lyrics of one song this week, this one’s the pick.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-t5gGm3NWU4

‘If you want to go out dancing’ tattoo - Jay Craig Tattoos

Now, go forth and Spotify!

And if you’re looking for some absolute stellar new releases, may I recommend ‘Watermelon Sugar’ by Harry Styles (he’s a total babe) and ‘Love You For a Long Time’ by Maggie Rogers, both released this week.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w_bhvofXYf4

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iKYxMnW7bgs

I hope your weekend is full of music and ass-shaking, solo or en mass.

Cheers!

LD

If your heart is sore today...

Some days the world feels too much for my heart
which I guess sounds touchy-feely, but it’s the truth
I think it always has
Especially on days like today

I experience these miniature heartbreaks. Not necessarily even from sadness, sometimes just from too much.
Too much fear.
Too much uncertainty.
Too much loneliness.
Too much happiness.
Too many faces with their emotions sprawled across them.

All this feeling. And not only my own.

The lone elderly gentleman I see crossing the street at a glacial pace, with pride in his appearance and perhaps the lingering bit of a spring in his step. I want to ask him if he needs a granddaughter. Or a hand. Or if he’s been asked how he is lately. Who does his grocery shopping? Did you have a lifelong love?

Accidentally catching the man on the doorstep leaving work and checking his pockets one too many times. His face looks worried but in a private way that I seem to have unintentionally caught in my glance. I want to tell him it’s ok. That he looks dapper and confident, even though he just looks unsure. But I don’t. Because I don’t know him. He might be really unpleasant. He doesn’t seem it though.

The woman I hear on the phone to her husband. She misses him and I hear a grab in her voice as she tries not to bother him with that information. I wonder how long they’ve been apart. When they’ll be together again.

This week a cat in my street died caught up in a fight between two dogs. On the front porch of this roaming cat’s home, there are now photos. Cards. People have left flowers. This black and white feline now has a shrine from a street that adored her. Everyone writes that they felt she was “their” cat too. Did that make me cry? You bet your ass it did. Her name was ‘Little One’.

Some days, simply walking the streets of the city feels like it might overwhelm me. Today feels like one of those days, when it seems like everything is on fire. People show their feelings in the funniest and sometimes smallest of ways, but it’s always there. Today, I am sure I am one of those faces on the streets.

And when I catch site of it on the countenance of passersby, their pain is shared. Their sadness sympathised.

I once saw a teenage couple part at an international airport gate, clearly an ending occurring, and I couldn’t help but cry. It was that young, raw kind of public display of love. Seeing someone’s heartbreak surely must be a transmittable momentary disease. The gift of empathy is not always a gift. Did you know they’ve found it’s a collection of genes? A bundle belonging to the highly-sensitive. Genes like having blue eyes. Or a longer pointer finger.

If the world is hard for you today, may you know that someone has seen you. The sensitive souls who walked by you as you ordered your morning coffee or waited for the bus.

It’s the catch between your breaths.
In the blink away of tears.
In the flustered fingers of worry.

I hope this means our feelings are shared on the days where it is too much.
That the emotions are halved.
Heard.
Held.

#LexDuffDoes - 'Calm' Multi-Sensory Oil from The Beach People

In an age of hyper connectivity and somehow simultaneously, a lack of connection, ritual is something we often find ourselves seeking, perhaps without even recognising it. Possibly it’s ritual for clarity, ritual for regiment, ritual for connectedness. Throughout millennia, ritual has provided many cultures a sense of community, and within our own lives, a sense of reverence. Even a small amount of control or habituality.

It’s the same way we go to the movies and automatically buy popcorn, even though you don’t eat popcorn any other time. Or go to the football and immediately buy a beer to sip as you watch. It’s holy water before Mass. It’s putting out of crystals on the night of a full moon. It’s the practice of a book club or the customary kiss when you come home of an evening. Some rituals we don’t even necessarily question – we just do. To me, ritual encompasses all those idiosyncratic interactions as well as those that carry much deeper meaning.

Recently, I’ve been trying to implement a few more mindful rituals into my life, particularly small acts of intention that insert joy into my day. In my early 20’s, I found myself heading into a darker place mentally that I was challenged by. My ritual became finding one article, image or YouTube video a day that would make me laugh out loud. It became a tool that helped heal. Towards my late 20’s and working in travel, moving cities every few days, my ritual became my morning coffee (also healing, I can confirm!).

Recently, the rituals I have been thinking about have been based around encompassing more of all of my senses. Which leads me to the beautiful team at The Beach People.

Not too long ago (with impeccable timing!), I was sent a little box by this beloved Aussie Brand. If you have ever been to the beach with me or a Sunday afternoon park session, you will have heard me talk about The Beach People - specifically their revolutionary round towel! (If you haven’t got one, a massive round beach towel is an absolutely joy and game changer). I’ve bought them for myself, I’ve bought them as gifts, I’ve sat on them, under them, around them. It’s fair to say I’m a fan.

So, I was intrigued to see that they had recently launched a product entitled ‘Calm’, a Multi-Sensory Oil. A sidestep from their original product and branding, it’s a beautiful little oil roller with a grapefruit and ylang ylang scent, infused with gemstones inside. It looks simultaneously wholesome and super luxe. It also comes in the most beautiful little hessian-like, plastic-free drawstring bag that makes you feel like you’ve stepped into the life of someone who only drinks green juice, wears expensive perfume and never wears makeup because their skin is flawless. How can a bag do all this, you ask? Order one and you’ll see what I mean.

I am someone who adores perfume and has very strong opinions on scent so trying a new one is always fraught with a little danger. This oil is not specifically designed as a perfume as such, but it is designed to fill the senses with a calming balance. When I first roll it onto my wrists, it’s strong. If I’m totally honest, I certainly don’t dislike it, but I can’t quite place it. It’s heady, slightly herbaceous, and feels beautiful on my skin. The mix of jojoba oil and evening primrose oil are immediately moisturising. Both of these work with as the carrier oils whilst also providing relief to dry skin with anti-inflammatory properties.

The grapefruit is woody, nearly bitter. Known as the ‘Forbidden Fruit’ in its home of Barbados, this Caribbean creation is nature’s fusion between the pomelo and an orange. Interestingly, the smell comes from the peel of the fruit. As someone who loves a Negroni, that practically tangy scent is present and hits you first.  

The ylang ylang is what follows. A scent shared with Chanel No. 5, it is widely known in aromatherapy for stress relief and as an aphrodisiac (wohoo!).

A mixture of citrus, wood and tartness, ‘Calm’ is incredibly fresh and unique. I’ve scoured the aisles of perfumeries before and I’ve never smelt anything like it.

The longer it settles in my skin, I’m amazed at how the notes of the perfume change. In saying that, I’m not entirely sold on whether or not I would wear it as ‘my scent’. Like a slightly crazed woman on a mission, I have dinner with multiple friends this week and apply it to their wrists. Each of our skins brings out a really unique take on the scent.

I apply it with regularity over the next few days – and it grows on me with every wear. The strong scent has an unforeseen yet wickedly delightful consequence. I take to applying it every time I need a little hit of ‘calm’ - when I’m taking some deep breaths, when I’m having a brain break at work, even before bed. And I begin to associate the smell with those moments of peace in my day. And bingo – it’s doing its job! Pavlovian responses are go! And I, too, notice that I am creating a ritual – I get joy from the aesthetics of the bottle, the oils sooth my skin to touch, the smell relaxes me. And you know what else relaxes me? I read about a study out of the Smell and Taste Institute in Chicago that found men who smell a citrus scent on a woman often believed her to be up to six years younger?! Now I’m not about perpetuating the fetishisation of youth, but as I hurl rapidly towards turning 30, I won’t lie, I found this stat almost did the job for the product.

Do I smell 22? Maybe I don’t need to buy that expensive eye cream after all. I’ll just douse myself in this calming oil and only drink water and Negronis!

(I’ve just radically gotten into my own bandwagon here! Somebody stop me.)

I digress.

What I definitely find is that the creation of the ritual over the last few weeks has shown up the astounding nature of the brain and the beauty of creating beneficial, feel-good habits. I have no doubt that these scents were hand-picked by the beautiful team at The Beach People because they are calming and soothing, but I also found that in creating the habit of reaching for the oil whenever I was stressed, it created an association that has made me really enjoy this product.

If you’re feeling like you’re in need of a self-soothing habit, or you know people in your life who do, this is the perfect gift. It is honestly one of the most beautifully presented products out there – the tiger’s eye and quartz floating in the golden oil are the perfect touch. And you can apply with abandon knowing it is made with naturally occurring ingredients. No harmful chemicals, no synthetic chemicals, parabens, GMOs, artificial scents, colours or dyes! I will say, however, if you know someone who is solely into florals, this isn’t the oil for them.

I will be keeping up my little ritual and hopefully adding more to the small moments of my day. I would also highly recommend heading over to their website – grab an oil, or a round towel, or a picnic basket….

So, what will your new ritual be? I’d love to hear from you! Whatever it is you choose, may it be fun!

X

LD

https://thebeachpeople.com.au/products/calm-sensory-oil

* media discount applied but not sponsored.

On the floor of the airport... [An Excerpt]

In 20 hours or so, You will kiss me on the forehead. We will have listened to Ed Sheeran’s new album twice through, deciding that perhaps Barcelona is our favourite song.

In 22 hours or so, You will kiss me by surprise in front of some deer in a London park in the cold.
For the very first time.
Somehow I will have spent a whole day waiting for it and still wont expect it.

In 3 days, I’ll realize I might just be in over my head with how I feel about what’s happening here.

In 4 days, I’ll accept that I was in over my head from the day we met.

But now, sitting opposite You at the airport, I might feel the most tired, most sparkly and most alive I can remember feeling…

-

I think I’ll always love airports for the rest of my days.

They remind me of us.

And of coming home to myself.

x

LD

[An Excerpt from something very exciting in the works]

One Year On... the Emerald Isle

On this day last year, we left our little Ireland home and boy how much and how little can change in a year, huh? I miss it as much as I did yesterday and as the the day we left.

All of last year, it was our job to show people around the Emerald Isle. I was able to go and stand where I stood at 19 years old and scattered my grandfathers very Irish ashes, and take my Mum there too. We went to Trad Music on Sunday nights at McSorley’s and strolled Grafton Street on Monday mornings. We had house parties with a multiculturalism that would give the UN a run for its money. Ranelagh, Dublin became our home. It really was a dream come true and I am the luckiest gal in the world for getting to do it all with the hunk I’ve spent 932 days travelling the world with…

A year on, I still want to say thank you to Ireland for having us. It won’t be too long till we see you again. And thank you to Ev for being the person whose hand I hold at take off and landing, my hostel bunk buddy, my apartment hunting housemate, my road trip pal (realistically chauffeur) and for being my BIG love. It’s been so much sweeter with you by my side.

To all the adventures still to come and to all the memories that fill my head and phone, here’s to following our dreams, to calling it out when we aren’t and to making sure we keep living the lives that are meant for us. Where do you think you’ll be this time next year? Somewhere like where I’ve been looks pretty good to me…

xxx

LD

From Buzzfeed to Bondi - A Day with The Try Guys

It goes without saying that the YouTube scene has morphed and transformed significantly over the past decade. Becoming increasingly utilised by independent artists and with an intention, it would seem, to become the next go-to entertainment streaming portal, its no surprise that the terminology “Insta Celeb” now exists. Gone are the days of dorky 13-year olds, with poor lighting and their drugstore makeup, explaining the use of eyeshadow to the camera. To be in the game these days, you need circle LED lighting, editing chops, brand affiliations and to look like a teenager of the 2000s, not a teenager of the 1990s (While we’re on that, did the awkward teen phase just disappear?!).

Yet, back in 2014, the internet sensation Buzzfeed hired a bunch of young starters in their Video Department to get on the bandwagon of creating and sending out viral content to the masses. Amongst this group were four creatives living in California, all with polarized personalities and styles. Their names; Ned Fulmer, Keith Habersberger, Zach Kornfield and Eugene Yang.

The group had acting or content creation backgrounds and all seemed uniquely okay with presenting themselves at the centre of some pretty interesting endeavours for the sake of the camera and their audience. And thus ‘The Try Guys’ were born. A creation intended to do just that – try stuff! Situations, outfits, fitness regimes, body hygiene routines – you name it, they’ve tried it. What they created must have struck a cultural nerve because they became Buzzfeed’s first ‘brand’ of Personalities. To say they have had continued success is an understatement. In 2018, when their contracts with Buzzfeed wrapped up, they appeared at a crossroads. They were the brains, the brand and the editors behind their own videos. Could they take their Try Guys expertise and make their own independent YouTube Channel? Would it all exist without the big name of Buzzfeed behind them? For a few months, the try guys went quiet. The waves of the internet were a still pond. No content for the aforementioned awaiting masses.

Had they been forced to break up?

Had they fallen out?

Where they ever really friends in the first place?

It was during this seeming confusion that they were behind the scenes creating their own independent channel that would go on to be watched by 6 million viewers religiously within the 12 months that followed. Ironically, as Ned says, during this time they were “working closer than ever” amidts the circulation of rumours that they had disbanded.

Now in 2019, not only have they released a New York Times Best Selling Book ‘The Hidden Power of F*cking Up’ but they have headlined VidCon around the world. With tickets to attend some of their shows selling out on their Legends of the Internet Tour, the group have been flown around the world visiting fans in countries they surely couldn’t have anticipated having 5 years ago.

That’s how my partner, Evan, and I came to be lucky enough to meet the Guys last week during their time in Sydney, Australia. It was up to us to show them around our fair city and truth be told I was a little nervous. I can honestly say that I’ve seen all their most viral videos and followed their careers with very real interest. (My favourite is definitely their Labour Pain Simulation Video – turns out it’s a favourite of over 33 million other viewers as well. If you haven’t already watched it, head over to YouTube now!) They were a staple of my procrastinated internet watching during my University degrees and interestingly, Eugene tells me that I’m in good company. “Our most common demographic is university aged young women.”

As a fan, I too want to know, are they actually friends? Are they as nice as they seem? Do they come across as normal people after this catapult to internet fame? Well the answer is Yes, Yes and Yes.

We are set to meet them at the Lobby of the Shangri-La in Sydney’s Rocks area and on arrival, we are greeted by Ned and his wife, Ariel. But the real star of the entrance is their 18-month-old Wesley – cute as a button, vivacious and the apple of both his parents’ eyes. We introduce ourselves and I am struck by how instantly warm they are. Ned tells us that a few of the other Guys were out drinking the night before so they may stumble down to the Lobby a little late. Chatting about their Tour and time in Australia so far while we wait for the others, it’s a strange interaction to hear them so casually discuss something as unique as a ‘World Tour’ whilst chasing after a toddler in the Lobby like every other holidaying parent.

Not long after, Eugene and his partner Matt make their appearance. Maybe slightly hungover, they tell us they had a great night out in Sydney. With our lock out laws, we ask where they could possibly have been out till two in the morning? “Newtown. That’s a cool area,” Eugene tells us. He’s as chic as he makes out on camera but there is an affectionate side to him, shown with his partner, that is rarely seen on their uploads.

Lastly Keith and his wife Becky meet us in the Lobby. Keith informs everyone that “a non-mandatory tour related meeting any time before 10am is quite frankly rude, if you ask me” but his Tennessee twang and exaggerated hand movements, as well as his 6ft+ statue are instantly likeable. Anyone who has watched their videos knows that he and his wife met at College and have shared their second anniversary while here in Sydney. They let us know that Zach won’t be joining us for the day and so off we go.

The day is spent visiting Sydney’s iconic spots. Wendy’s Secret Garden, Nielson Park for coffees, Tim Tams and a taste of the intense flavours of Vegemite and lunch with drinks at the Bucket List on Bondi Beach. We stop for pictures at Mrs Macquarie’s Chair and drive through Potts Point and Kings Cross, talking all things cultural, political and whimsical. Conversation flows easily, laughs are had and key comparisons are made about life in the States and life in Aus. The hours pass in a blink and I certainly find myself truly understanding why these guys have become stars. They are wickedly funny and incredibly astute, for all that they ham up their aloofness on camera. Ned’s love of his family is incredibly obvious, it becomes clear that Eugene’s partner Matt is beloved by the whole gang and Keith’s comedic chops are only ever a moment away. It almost just starts to feel like you’re hanging out with tourists you’re making friends with on a backpacking holiday. It isn’t until Keith is sent a meme of himself looking like a sneaker by a “fan” and they throw around puns with which to repost it that you remember, they aren’t all just your ‘guys next door’ – they have legitimate, hard-core fans and their wit and humour in the spit-balling process is like being in a creative juicy comedic think tank. And yet they don’t take themselves too seriously. Ned and Ariel refer to the group as Wesley’s aunties and uncles. They take photos together that they don’t post – photos for their own private collection of a time of their holiday.

Another thing you notice is, for people whose livelihood is the internet, they aren’t glued to their phones. It’s an impressive and notable trait and it makes for a really present day.

Over lunch, we chat about intellectual and policy based issues like gun violence in America and voting. They seem to adore the concept of a ‘democracy sausage’ but can’t fathom how you make everyone turn up to vote in a compulsory system. When asking what has been the biggest surprise about coming to Australia, they talk of its familiarity and the ease with which they’ve been able to navigate the cities. They chuckle about how we say “How’re ya going?” as a greeting to anyone and everyone. Naturally, they also have a bunch of questions about sharks.

The conversation that really sticks with me after the day is over is Eugene and Ariel’s interest in the stance of Australians with regards to the Police. I explain that while Australians may be somewhat anti-authoritarian in their attitudes, calling the police when you’re in trouble is something we can calmly and confidently teach our children. “So, calling the police would always be seen as a positive thing?” Eugene queries. “In America, the police now have to wear camera’s for proof of incidents because the situation is so tense, particularly with the African American community,” he continues. He is somewhat surprised by how much Australians appear to know about the political and cultural climate of the US and we are all relieved to find our opinions of our respective countries’ political leaders is aligned.

For a bunch of Guys whose most viewed videos are titled “The Try Guys Try Drag”, “The Try Guys Get Photoshopped with Men’s Ideal Body Types”, “The Try guys Wear Womens’ Underwear” and “The Try Guys try UFC Fighting”, it may be easy to assume there is a certain flippantness or fluke to their success.

What is clear from spending the day with them is the exact opposite. They are a clever troop of artists who have obviously made some shrewd career decisions and timed their brand exceptionally well. More than that, they also are genuinely all very different personalities but they are most certainly friends. Possibly more like family after all these years. And they aren’t scared to challenge what it means to be masculine, what it means to be creative and what it means to just give things a try. That is something I have always admired about their videos. Their affection for one another. Their ability to buck the trend of ‘the masculine’ in front of the camera and replace it with ‘the real’. Their eagerness to embrace something new and be learners again.

On dropping them back at their hotel, we’ve gone from handshakes hello to hugs goodbye, with an offer from Eugene that if we’re ever in L.A. to get in touch. We swap a few contact details and wish them luck for their next tour stop in Singapore.

That night in bed, we flick over to YouTube to catch their latest video released entitled “The Try Guys Spray Tan Each Other” and my fanhood is solidified. What’s undoubtable is that they love their job, they love a laugh and they love each other. And we can safely say, we love them too! 

LD

x

Visit:

Their YouTube Channel: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCpi8TJfiA4lKGkaXs__YdBA 

Real Sydney Tours: http://realsydneytours.com.au/

With Kim Kardashian as our Witness, I Call the Public to the Stand

The news of Kim Kardashian beginning a Law Degree has received significant spotlight in World News in the last few weeks and I think it’s safe to say that not a lot of the feedback has been strictly positive. She has been mocked in interviews, had articles written about attempting to follow her father’s footsteps and had to defend her choices on multiple media platforms. As with most endeavours the Kardashians put their name to, this too has come with a shroud of controversy. If you place your finger to the wind, you can get a pretty good sense of the temperature of the current climate for her career pivot. People seem to feel her life and lifestyle do not mesh with someone of the legal persuasion. It appears people are not on board with the imagery these two supposing opposites conjure up.

“She had sex on tape, becomes famous and what now? She wants to be a lawyer?!” one internet commentator guffaws.

“Is she getting herself a law degree or is she buying it?” is another common critique, as is “she didn’t even finish college”.

Truth be told, as someone who went to University for over 5 years and earnt a double degree, one of which being a Law Degree, I’m actually not that fussed or phased if Kim gets a law degree or not. I don’t really care if she joins the ranks of the thousands of us out there who sat through hours of lectures on case law. Truly, what skin off my nose is it if she gets herself the piece of paper?

What I am fascinated by, however, is the public’s responses to this choice of Kim’s. The collective groan of the internet that, on the surface, seems highbrow and steeped in the protection of the profession but if you listen closely enough, sounds a lot like “stay in your lane, Kim”. If we peel back the top layer of the commentary ever so slightly, you can hear “your image doesn’t match what we think of when we imagine a lawyer”…or if we cut the bullsh*t, what’s being said really is, “you can’t be a sex symbol, a Reality Television Star and a symbol of intellect in the public sphere at the same time.”

What we seem to be saying is, “pick your image and stick to it.” It would appear that sex symbol turned business woman is something we can stomach, but sex symbol to lawyer? Unpalatable.

Now, I can see where people are coming from. We want our lawyers to be paragons of virtue. Pillars of society. Privacy experts and most of all, we want them to match the image we have of them in our minds. Grey suits. Low heels. Briefcase baring. Straighty-180. We want our flash lawyers to be on Suits and not in our Law Firms.

And I get why. I really do.

It’s the same way we want to think our Doctors go home and are tucked into bed at 8:30 each evening after only ever indulging in one glass of organic red wine. That they’ve never touched a cigarette and they don’t own a lick of lingerie. We want our lawyers and doctors to leave work of an afternoon for their white picket fences houses and study each night before kissing their spouse politely goodnight, rolling over and sleeping a full 10 hours straight.

Strangely, but maybe not surprisingly, the cultural collective seems to want to enforce this in a much more severe manner upon women. And maybe Kim Kardashian’s foray into the field of law from the field of play is the modern-day contrast of Madonna and the whore.

It seems, since the dawn of time (ok, maybe slight hyperbole but go with me…), Society has wanted women to fit into one type of character. We are the hero or the harlotan, the wife or the witch, the bombshell or the baby-maker. But heaven forbid, we are both. That’s what this boils down to, to me.

And I am here to put my hand up and say, “Kim Kardashian, go you good thing!”

I’d like to reach out and tell her Torts Law is really interesting but Constitutional Law will make you want to pull a Nicholas Cage National Treasure and steal the goddam thing so no more students ever have to sit through ConLaw Lectures. I want to tell her that Contracts will be surprisingly like formula and that everyone wants to do Criminal Law until you realise you will be spending your career, likely, with…criminals. I have decided to place myself firmly on the side of Cheerleader here. And that is because what is happening here speaks to a message that I don’t think women hear enough.

We can be more than one woman, at one time, in one lifetime. I will cheerlead because being beautiful does not mean that you are not smart. Using your beauty can be smart. And using your smarts can be beautiful.

Being sexy does not make you less intelligent. Being in touch with your sensuality does not diminish your ability to problem-solve, make astute decisions in business or network. Being interested in fashion does not exclude you from being interested in human rights, or politics or even…the…law. And being interested in the law does not exclude you from flicking through glossy magazines whenever the hell you want.

Wearing a bikini on a Saturday should not eliminate you from the Boardroom on Monday and wearing lingerie should not kick you out of the locker room. These things can exist in parallel. And they can, in fact, form a well-rounded human being. If anything, discomfort with the multitude of sides of a woman often only highlight the lack of creativity or the staleness of those who find it uncomfortable.

Now, I am not saying that having sex on camera should be a career aspiration and I think learning and respecting professionalism is key to a successful career. I am also not saying that I necessarily think she will make a good lawyer, nor do I agree with many choices, both personal and professional, that Kim Kardashian has made. But I do not believe that fragmenting women benefits anyone other than those who wish to keep powerful women in their imposed boxes.

If Kim Kardashian’s serious and concerted attempts at a Law Degree do anything to open up the minds of the public to the concept that life is long and careers can be varied and women can find purpose in more than one endeavour, then I am all for it. We need to open our minds, get out of these boxes and savour all our facets and fallibilities. We need to let people explore all the sides of themselves that they find passion in. Because, once more for the people in the back, being a beautiful woman does not you cannot also be a deeply intellectual one. And being a deeply intellectual woman does not mean you can’t be a glamour!

Hell, think of all the kinds of women we could be if we all just got out of each other’s way!

 x

Image curtesy of Doré

#LexDuffDoes Transformazing - Go To

A few weekends ago, I cycled 180 kms in beautiful, variable Australian weather – cold in Bowral, even colder at speed downhill, delicious in the sun by midday and positively tan-able by the time the afternoon rolled around (how casual am I making those hours passing sound?!). At the end, I had perspired (a lot), cried (a little), and copped a fair bit of sun and wind to the face. It was one of the most incredible days and every ache and niggle in the pursuing 48 hours felt worth every penny we were able to raise for Lymphoma Australia (over $10,000 of those pennies, but who’s counting?).

But by Tuesday night, my body, my brain and my face were certainly in need of a little self-lovin’.

When your forehead has already slurped up your moisturiser by the time you’re onto your cheeks, you know a little TLC and a whole lotta moisture is needed.

A drive-by of MECCA gave me the change to have my Girls-Night-In accompanied by Frank Body and the very well known, brainchild of Zoe Foster-Blake, Go-To.

I have been a big fan of Go-To’s attitude, faultless marketing and commercial astuteness since it was launched in 2012.

And it’s pretty hard not to be a fan girl of the creator and follow her and her husband, half of Australia’s radio sweetheart duo (Hamish & Andy). But, to be honest, I haven’t always loved the consistency of their products for my skin.

Having followed the brand’s rise but then side-stepped from using them over the last few years, I thought I’d dip a toe back in with their new face mask. It’s not super cheap for a one-off ($9) but I was sold by the notion that it was naturally derived (without parabens, sulfates, petrolatum or synthetic colours), well-respected (with ingredients such as finger lime extract, a natural source of AHA’s) and “saturated in serum”. Yum!  

Post shower, with a freshly scrubbed face, I set myself up with Elizabeth Day’s newest paperback ‘How to Fail’ on the couch, lit a candle and wiggled my toes with relaxed, mid-week, quiet-time glee.

The first thing I notice is that the mask has a clean fragrance, soft and slightly floral. I can’t quite pick the scent itself but it is totally inoffensive – and I kind of like how subtle it is – a less full-on scent to me means less fiddling with the product in its creation. The next thing is that it is the perfect amount of ‘drippy’. It genuinely lives up to its advertising. It feels positively saturated in all the good serums and life-saving tactics my skin needs. At this stage, the price point becomes a non-issue.The face wizards at Go-To have managed to have a pretty zero-drip technology so no product is wasted.

The other magic they have mastered is that somehow, without  me knowing, they have moulded Transformazing from my face. Like my actual countenance. The same way you don’t notice how much you’re missing out on before you taste the difference between adult-dinner-party-wine and Uni-Student wine, I never noticed how much delight could come from a face mask that perfectly fits your dimensions before this. In fact, I might be simultaneously delighted and furious – how can I ever go back to other face masks now? Now that Go-To has traversed the very contours of my face, the nooks of my nostrils, the crannies of my lips (without any annoying overhang into my mouth while I sip my very healthy and wholesome Evening Tea…ahem….red wine). I don’t know how you did it Zoe but you’ve gone and impressed me with something I never knew I cared about and now I sound like a weird broken record talking about the geography of my face!

With the mask now plastered to my tired, thirsty skin, its time for 10-15 minutes of naval-gazing, deep diving into my book and wondering when my boyfriend will walk through the door. He was horrified by my public display of face masking on our last long haul flight and hasn’t quite recovered.

Fifteen minutes later, and I’m totally impressed by how much product has transferred to my skin. What started as your normal slippery mask-sucker is now almost cotton-like in its dryness. The littler layer of extra serum stays on the skin, neck and décolletage (great word) overnight and I have to admit, I noticed a difference putting my moisturizer on the next day, namely because my skin didn’t try to mistakenly slurp up my BB cream when I got ready for work.

All in all, I’m as impressed as I hoped I would be and I will definitely be purchasing this product again. Hopefully next time, just because I feel like it and not because of some wild attempt at an athletic feat.

If you’re wanting to give your face a little extra somethin’ somethin’, you wont regret this buy.

And as always, when it comes to pearls of serum wisdom, remember as ZFB says “you’re face stops at your boobs”. So use any extra drops…hell, head down to that belly-button of yours!

Check it out at:

https://gotoskincare.com/

https://www.mecca.com.au/

#LexDuffDoes Orchard St

Orchard St Paddington is a beautiful little nook on the corner of Oxford Street. Walking in makes you feel like you’ve already made an active choice in your health and well-being. Is your skin glowing already just stepping over the threshold? Quite possibly. Between crystal infused water bottles, white sage smudge sticks and delicious raw deserts, it’s certainly luxe but I love it. The products come at a luxe price point too but one always feels they’ve opted for quality here. If you’re looking for a bit of a reset or a place to zen on a weekend afternoon, I really recommend popping in. Try a coffee with a Lovers concoction added (guaranteeing to get your fires burning) or a Roots Unearthed juice to cleanse you. I can assure you I recently used one of their Sage sticks to cleanse our new apartment and use a copper tongue scraper (largely because @zotheysay told us all to) so I recommend you go in and get a feel for the place yourself. I don’t think you’ll be disappointed. I DO think you should bring your curated canvas tote bag for all the purchases you will unintentionally make!

https://orchardstreet.com.au

Africa

So you’ve gotten off the plane… a plane you probably stepped onto reluctantly.

You’ve probably thought, ‘it will be nice to have a long hot shower and sleep in a bed’. But in all honestly, that probably doesn’t override the desire you have to stay just that ‘little bit longer’.

Coming home from your first trip to the African Continent is hard…undoubtedly in different forms depending on where you spent your time. You’ve had the African Experience (as long as you didn’t confine yourself to the four walls of a western hotel chain). And that experience never quite leaves you the same. As Francesca Marciano wrote, “When you leave Africa, as the plane lifts, you feel that more than leaving a continent, you’re leaving a state of mind. Whatever awaits you at the other end of your journey will be a different order of existence.”

You will most likely have seen animals in their own habitats – ones you had only seen in zoos from a distance behind a cage or in African Travel brochures. You will have seen landscapes of such vast expanses that your brain can’t even comprehend what is before your eyes; mountains, deserts, coastlines, oceans’ meeting, peaks, valleys and stretches of green as far as the eye can see. You will have felt the wildness of the wilderness in a way you have never experienced before – an exhilarating and terrifying exploration of the feeling that you are at the mercy of Mother Nature – in a direct conversation with Her in a way that has been desensitised or silenced in the Western World.

You’ll have become accustomed to unsealed roads and Pap for dinner, you’ll know never to ask what the weather will be like any further out than that afternoon. You’ll have sore arms from waving at all the local faces and you will be used to hearing multiple different languages in the same conversation. You will be used to the site of yourself a frizzy, sweaty mess, always a little grubby under the fingernails and with a camera firmly attached to your being. And then…. You’re home.

To civilisation.

Steralisation.

You will notice the paved roads and routines; the perfumed smells and the ease of living. You will know the familiarity of your home but somehow, it will feel different.

Or rather, you will feel different in it. Because…you are different. It can’t be helped. Africa changes you. She can’t help but add Her twist to you…so expected but still so surprising it is to come home and feel like you’ve taken a bit of Africa with you. Or maybe like you left a little bit of yourself there. Or just that you came home cracked so wide open that you’re not sure where you and Africa and your African experience part ways.

On my very first night in Africa, sitting in a blackout under a storm like I’d never experienced, a local man asked me why I’d come to Africa. He said it was important to Africans to know why people travelled so far. I told him that I’d always wanted to set foot on African soil, to see it for myself, to feel the difference – that I had long felt there was something in Africa for me to find or see or learn. And with complete comprehension, he leant back in his chair, placed his folded hands on his big belly and with a sigh that sounded of nostalgia and understanding, he looked at me and simply said, “Africa – she definitely speaks directly to the heart.”

And now you’re home. After your heart has been in this raw, open, exposing, turbulent, unmatchable and indescribable conversation with the powerful woman that is Africa Herself. And somehow that conversation doesn’t feel finished. And you’re trying to find the pulse or the voice of the city you’re now in. The city that you call home. And you can’t quite put your finger on where it’s gone. Everything feels too safe.

Too rehearsed.

Too excessive.

Too comfortable.

And you feel too raw.

Too wild.

But that has to be the beauty of travelling to a place like Africa. You didn’t stand a chance of coming back the person you left as.

So what’s the good news?

How does one find their feet in a concrete jungle?

Firstly, don’t panic if you momentarily fall out of love with your home. But also don’t try and squeeze your ‘Africa-Self’ into city life or put Africa away.

Sit in the sun. Put your feet in the grass. Stargaze at night – they are the same stars you were in awe of in the beauty of Swaziland or the mountains of Lesotho. Run your fingers through the sand. The grains are a product of the same ocean you sat in front of with people who had become fast friends in Durban.

Talk to people about Her. Inform those who want to know. Teach them about the Africa you saw with your own eyes, not the Africa that people have been informed by pop-culture about.

And most importantly, be patient with yourself. Take your time. Feel your way into your new self in this old place. And trust that you will return to one day. “One cannot resist the lure of Africa” (Rudyard Kipling).

Until then, T.I.A.

Twice Bitten: An Ode to those I Leave Behind

People say it’s a bug.

And it certainly is.

Once bitten, She’s got you – the wild temptress of this gypsy tribe I find myself born into.

The symptoms? Restless legs, a need for bare feet and the smell of the ocean, a distractedness, curly hair, a discomfort amongst ones ‘home’, inner bumpy roads and a heart that’s always breaking just a little. And sometimes a lot.

She bit me. Years ago. Maybe she bit me at birth. I’ll never be sure. She cradles you, makes your heart beat wildly, inspires you and then takes her bite. And you’re Hers.

But Her sidekick is the messenger. He is the one to worry about. He is clever. And insidious. And very handsome. He makes you unsure of your thoughts and plants his own in his ever charming, calming way. He’s a polite guest. Nice to your friends, at first. And everyone says you glow when He’s around. But that’s because they don’t know Him.

Recently, I greeted the messenger. He showed up as I begun to spend my nights awake, as He always does. As one must when the messenger arrives, I was hospitable. Welcoming.

‘Come in’

‘Sit Down’

‘Take a load off’

I flirted a little. It’s impossible not to.

I asked for His coat and if He was seeing anyone. I hoped that after a short nap amongst my synapses, He would be on His merry way to find His intended target. His next muse. When He would unroll his scroll and say “Come on babe, are you going to make me read it? Again?”

Then He would proceed to read, “Dearest Recipient, It’s time. The winds have changed. Pack your bags. Say your farewells”. And us of the tribe know what that means. It’s the pact we signed, somewhat unfairly without understanding the consequences, of being born under a wandering star.

Now, not all of this motley crew of signatories find it unfair. And it makes me think that maybe I was bitten twice. Once by Her, His master, and once directly on my heart by something that snuck under the radar. And the bite must have come from Her nemesis because it made my heart swell. It became inflamed. And a heart too large can only ever do one thing – love hard. And want to stay.

The Symptoms? Crying in movie trailers, being struck by disrupting giggles, an honest mouth, a tactile soul, a desire to hug and to build and to form roots. But most of all, it infects you with the inability to own the gift of the first bite – the ability to say goodbye and keep all the pieces of your heart.

Despite Her best efforts, that second bite forms an equal part of my nature. The thought of leaving can’t help but remind me of all the little incidental love stories that my ‘home’ holds for me. The love stories that are always a result of severe inflammation. The love stories of all the images and scents and sounds and people I know I will ache for, even as I venture into the exact place I feel the pull to be. The memories on random streets, the pent up feelings on beaches or benches or in the passenger seats of cars, the walking routes, the old coffee haunts, the favourite wine bars.

The places I sit to watch the water.

And the waterside places we sit and I watch the other him. The him that loves my bites but must wish they had just taken a nibble instead of a chunk.

On one of said park benches this week, I read a beautiful poem about wishing for an Ending Light; one that would grow bright whenever an ending was floating around you. One that would alert you to eat from the menu the foods you’ve never tasted, to thank the people passing through, to take the car for one last spin at the lips of an imminent ‘Sold’ sign.

My problem is, my swollen heart can always sense when an ending is near, know when something is coming to a close, feel the tingle of the bite marks that mean I know I’m feeling it all. I don’t need a light. And it’s in every moment of savouring, that I overexert the muscles of my heart. In every moment that the gift of the vagabond rears her enchanting head, the throb of my heart makes me remember, I am not good at goodbye.

That it is not easy for me. Someone who, despite best intentions, regularly practices the art of falling in love; with people on the bus, with a song I hear, a street I walk down, a routine I have. With people’s laughs and the way they say certain words, with watching a couple of friends who only ever get coffee together, with secluded beachside spots that are private sanctuaries, with the perfect people-watching café chair.

And so, it would seem, I am destined to be a living breathing dichotomy; an act of squeezing two seemingly contradictory bites into one thought, one sentence, one person. A rogue heart who loves adventure and the woman always falling in love with one place.

Am I faulty? Or in my last orbit around the planets, when I must have wished to squeeze all the juice from my next life, is it rather that the Powers That Be simple listened to my request? And this is the price to be paid.

For the fortune of a wandering swollen heart.

Those of us now twice bitten, once shy.

The messenger was not knocking at the wrong door. And when I refused to listen to Him with both ears, She appeared. She swept through like a dancing hurricane. And it meant my shoes couldn’t stay on my feet. I couldn’t breath away from the ocean. My hair wouldn’t stay straight and my inner bumps were knocking me around like I was in a faulty 4×4. She entered my dreams. In every quiet moment of peace, she was there. Looking at me with my own big brown eyes, with a look that said, ‘You already know I’m right’.

And I knew.

I am the gypsy She was looking for. And all of my attempts to distract Her or placate Her, only fed Her. Made Her more beautiful. More shiny. She morphed in to the vision of myself that I want to see in every mirror. Soon, She was me. She showed me visions of myself dancing. And twirling. And giggling. And falling in love with new streets and new smells and new coffee shops. And in trying to distract Her with little agreements, in giving into Her a little, She made me feel whole. And there isn’t a person on earth who doesn’t yearn for that feeling.

And so, I am packing a bag.

I keep staring at him.

I keep falling in love.

Because I can’t help it.

But I am also headed with the wind. And She’s picking up her pace. The chimes are getting louder and my loves can hear Her now too.

To the people I love who I leave here, at this stop, these are the things She doesn’t want me to tell you. But She is jealous and manipulative and I can’t leave them unsaid.

My wandering soul should never be an indication that you aren’t enough for me to stay. I am the world’s worst gypsy. The most conflicted vagabond.

It is only ever, rather, that I can feel the infections growing and meeting and molding me. And I can sense a time now, unlike any other for me, where these bug bites must have the chance stop competing. To learn to co-habitate. To make me free. And I can’t ignore that.

But.

(and there is always a but)

In these long, drawn out but way-too-rapid weeks that lead up to my inevitable airport drive, I struggle to carry on as I did before.

I miss you desperately already.

And you are still next to me.

I have a torturous gift of living in all three tenses at once in these days ahead. I sit on park benches or in cafes or on beaches with you and remember the day we met, guard the way my heart feels next to you in that very moment and understand that ahead, there will be no more moments with you for a while.

I feel the past, present and future all in a single breath. And it makes me grateful and a little crazy. It makes me love you harder and makes me feel so guilty for making you love me.

But maybe that’s why you love me anyway.

From the bottom of my wild heart,

I am Forever Fond.

Always.

For dear fierce friends…

I watched you love him.

And I watched you lose him.

I saw the moment your heart broke.

I watched the shock on your face.

My outstretched palms trying to catch the tears that rolled down your cheeks.

I asked you the questions you had asked me before.

Can you breath tonight?

Will you be able to breath until morning?

Is there anything I can do?

But then…

As the weeks passed…

I watched you gather all the corners of the fabric of your being and restitch the patchwork into something that looked…different.

Into a beautiful bohemian sundress that you now dance in on hot summer nights.

And with the leftover fabric, you stitched yourself the warmth of the coat he could never give to you.

One to wrap around your shoulders when the dancing ends and you choose to walk yourself home.

You could never twirl like that before you knew him.

Or sway your hips to your own version of the rhythm.

Before his scared heart ran away with his mistakes.

But more importantly, you never shone like this, swaying with the music

Until he left.

And you should know.

You look  magnificent.

What a gift.

Grief.

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