The roaring starts. I feel the screeching yet no movement, just anticipation. After two glasses of wine my excitement is unbearable. My smile stretched from ear to ear. I pear out the window wide eyed at the illuminated runway. Two minutes and she races. My giddiness gets the better of me with a loud screech as she soars down the runway and we’re gracefully lifts us into the sky. Above, higher, higher, knowing when she settles back to the world, it won’t be mine.
Power and Adrenalin rushes through my veins as I put my life into this beautiful machines trusting arms. I look down to see the lights, cars, houses, streets. Growing smaller – a second later and it’s gone. We glide over the clouds in between the heavens and a thousand stars. The wheels have left the ground and the adventure begins here.
I’ve always had a wanderlusters itch, but when I had my lion cub my priorities changed. I’ve never needed this as much in my life, so what a better way to do it than travelling to a place I’ve heard of twice to a man I’ve met once at a festival..
I’ve had an incredible weekend with my one and only. he’s safe in the arms of his fathers family in Edinburgh for his own adventure. I’m on the air, ears popping, eyes tired yet head about to explode. I can feel the turbulence, she’s stating to struggle. But at this moment I’m invincible. I give a reason for worry, my situations, attitudes and general lifestyle choices.. But right now I’m invincible.
I’m heartbroken leaving my boy this morning. As far as he knows, he’s away on holiday and I’m still dancing and singing in our Yorkshire haven. If I could have captured how perfect he looked last night I would have shared it with the world. Skin hot, lips pouted, so soft and peaceful. I climbed in with him knowing come sunrise I’d have to leave him.
Tuesday
I arrived in Doha a little drunk with no idea where I was. The smoking room left me smelling like an ashtray and I fell asleep on a lap of a lady wearing a burka. She thankfully stroked my face and found my idiousy rather hilarious. I arrived in Kathmandu after a second flight and no sleep, was picked up and headed straight to a jam night at Max’s friends bar. I sat, listened to Jazz and thrived in my situation. Beatboxing, jazz jamming, exhilarated by the ridiculousness of my situation. The roof area was covered in fairy lights, the air smelt free and I hadn’t been this happy for weeks. If I could possibly process my scrambled, high brain into words right now I would. But unless you’re here, feeling it with me. Then my words are meaningless.
Thursday
Yesterday we explored the monkey temples. I tried water buffalo mo mo’s for the first time and in the evening got extremely drunk at this wonderful little bar called ‘Jazz Upstairs’. I met lots of new people, covered everyone in glitter and fell in love with this city all over again for it’s nights. I’ve been here a day and have fallen completely in love.
Max had to work at KJC in a pathetically hungover state today so I decided to get lost. It’s strange at first, everyone stares and you feel anxious, but the feeling soon wears off as you’re mind becomes distracted and you seem to mindfully blend into the background. I walked for miles and miles, met a wonderful man called Rem, smoked a joint and let him ink an ‘Om’ into my skin. I had to barter with an ill speaking taxi driver to get my home, which was a challenge when I’d forgotten a map and the name of where I was meant to be. I was never worried. By gracefully accepting the fact I was lost, I was able to truly indulge myself in my surroundings. It’s homely here, organised beautiful chaos.
Everything about this place is wonderful. The people, smells, streets, food.. Strangely enough lost here, wandering the streets alone I felt safe. I’ve managed to sunburn my back at the temple yesterday. It’s boiling to say its February. Locals have passed me and gasped,’aren’t you cold?’ they say, all wrapped up in scarves and coats. I’m not used to not being freezing. I also managed to sleep through the howling last night, the amount of wine consumed made me pass out till morning.
Food pure, skies clear and I’ve not stopped smiling since I arrived. I’m treasuring every second. Max is clearly an expert at maneuvering around the city by now and understanding the local culture. People find bluntness more polite than doddling about with pretty pleases and fake attitudes. I seem to be missing out words and speaking with a different voice to help people understand. I’m quickly learning to loose the English politeness we’re raised with and barter barter barter. Apparently even in Nepal you can’t barter tattoo artists though..
Yesterday we explored Kathmandu till dawn. For dinner we ate noodles in a sheesha bar, let the night creep up and drank rum. It turned chilly and we laughed at the ridiculousness for Nepalese driving from the bars balcony. I’d had to get used to walking into moving traffic and expecting not to be run down. Since being here I’ve felt completely mindful. The anxiety I’ve been suffering was left at Manchester airport and I’ve been so indulged by each second. Feeling, appreciating, loving. After such a long time I’ve felt truly, purely happy here. No past, no present, just exactly whats happening now. Feeling it. It’s a city with no dead ends and so many stories and I’m breathing it.
You need to be a certain kind of person to survive here. I mean to live here and truly thrive. You either see the cities pollution poverty, lack of organisation, or a beautiful city full of interesting stories and endless opportunities. England feels dull to me now. Miserable and organised with people not wanting to hold real conversations or even look a stranger in the face without feeling awkward. As a nation we’d much prefer to be swallowed up by our kindles, smartphones and laptops. I’m not being fair. I love Yorkshire, it’s a part of my soul. But now and again we need to look at ourselves.
Saturday
A tiny bar hand crafted with dragons and gold paint, dream-catchers swaying above us, spray painted walls and drinkers waiting for sweet jazz. It was another music filled evening that left me dreamy and blissful. Maybe not so much at half five the next morning..
My Saturday in Nepal was probably one of the most exciting, painful hangovers I’ve ever endured. It was still dark. We left the house and caught a taxi to meet what turned out to be some of the most wonderful people I’ve ever had the pleasure of being in the company of. I hadn’t slept. We grabbed our bags and hailed down two taxis, squeezing six of us in the back of one. Ten minutes later we were on a Nepalese bus heading for the mountains. That was an experience in itself. The bus was jammed and I was lucky enough to be given a seat. I sat for three hours on a hot oil tank flinching every time the bus nearly – but managed not to – crash. At one point I noticed a bus in front of us with ‘death road’ painted on it’s rear. It was a proper final destination scene as I imagined my arse being the first to go up in flames when the driver eventually fucks up. Thankfully, he didn’t, and I live to tell the tale.
The fumes were making me sick, so I spent the last hour of our trip squealing and giddy clinging on to the roof rack as we approached the villages at the foot of the Himalayas. The fresh wind ran through my airways and excited me. Full of magic, potential. So much beauty I couldn’t contain myself. My body needed to sing, gasp, cry. React in some way to what I was experiencing. I was mindful. In this second nothing else mattered.
David Tamal is a man I will never forget. Eccentric, excited, loud, slightly tormented and such so beautiful. His aura radiates purity and I enjoyed every second of his company. Even typing it up. Remembering the intricate details, how I was inspired and excited by my wonderful, insane week. Nepal, you fulfilled my romanticised dream spectacularly.
I have more. So much more. Watch this space..
To be continued.
Fascinating Occasions 🌙 