Heather Jansch Open Studio

Once a year, the artists of Devon welcome the public to view their work in the space it was created as part of Devon Open Studios. Alex and I went with his family to visit the studio of Heather Jansch, who creates incredible sculptures mostly out of driftwood. Her work was displayed throughout a gorgeous garden, which all were free to wander through. If you're in the area I would definitely recommend going to see her work! 

City Break

Spain

I haven't had much time to blog lately, but I had to take a quick break from writing essays to share a few pictures. This Easter Alex and I were lucky enough to tag along to his family's trip to Spain. It was the perfect break from the city and from end of term stress.

Chumbe Island Coral Park

My access to pictures from my time in Tanzania is limited right now but I couldn't wait to start sharing my experiences, so I'm going to start with out last day.

Just off Zanzibar, the Chumbe Island is a nature reserve with a protected coral reef sanctuary. The sand is soft and white, the sun bright (I have a lobster red back to prove it), and the water all shades of blue and teal.

Upon arriving we were greeted with fresh juice and shown to the bungalow which would be our's for the day. However there wasn't much time to settle in before heading back to the water for scuba diving. 

The coral and many different fish and sea creatures took my breath away. Much of the time I was practically swimming amidst a school of fish. I didn't have a waterproof camera, so sadly I can't share any pictures, but I can very highly recommend going scuba diving if you get the chance! 

After reluctantly leaving the water, we headed to lunch, where a wonderful table with all seats facing the ocean was waiting for us. It was the perfect way to sit back and really take in our beautiful surroundings. 

Once our bellies were full there was just enough time for a quick nap on the beach before our nature walk.

We learned a lot about the island, from the old coral which makes up a lot of the land to the coconut crab which briefly poked out of it's little rock cave to greet us.

But my favorite part was the view from the top of the light house. Getting to the top required going up a pretty extreme number of stairs, but it was definitely worth the climb.

A few hours later, I was sitting in the airport with fresh sunburn and a few lingering grains of sand still between my toes. We all wish we could have stayed longer, but Chumbe Island was a pretty perfect way to end the trip.

Flashbacks: Hailstorm in India

Lately there haven't been many things happening that I've felt inspired to blog about. So today I've decided to share the story behind this photo, which is one of my very favorites.

It was taken towards the beginning of a 30-day backpacking trip in India (I've posted about this trip before here and here). This is the view that followed an intense rain and hail storm.

The storm took us by surprise. The sky had given us minimal warning of what it was to come. Luckily the last of the group had just joined everyone on lower ground near where we planned to set up camp for the night, but the weather did not hold out long enough to put up our tents, or any other sort of shelter.

The rain cam down hard, quickly joined by large pieces of hail. We huddled together under the minimal protection provided by the trees. We had to take turns helping to protect our packs long enough to get out more layers to avoid hypothermia. Many of us were shivering. The ground was muddy and slippery. As someone who has never been very good at dealing with the cold, I was feeling fairly panicked.

When the rain finally showed the first signs of letting up, we jumped at the chance to get our tents set up. We could only do one at a time, with some of us holding the rain flies above others setting up the tent so they would stay dry. As the rain continued to slow, we focused on warming up, some huddled inside sleeping bags, others running laps around the camp.

And when the rain finally stopped, this is the view that greeted us.

The experience which had started of as scary and very stressful became one of the most beautiful sights I've ever seen.

..

I mentally prepared myself not to see Philly for a full year. Now that plans have changed I'm caught off guard. Not sure if I'm ready to go back home.

Roses

Summer Reflections

I've been having the 'summer-went-by-so-fast' conversation a lot.

Truth is, it's not the speed, but the absence of doing so many of the things I had planned. It's not that it went by too fast, it's just that part of me must have been hoping there would be an extra week hidden away somewhere so that I could live out my summer the way I had pictured it. 

So far, that does not seem to be the case. So instead I'm trying to focus on all of the great things I did do, and all of the things I have to look forward to.

Kale Pesto

The day of my birthday (having gone out to celebrate the night before) my friend Jess and I woke up hungover, sleepy, a little whiny, and in definite need of a good lunch. Luckily the newspaper that day had an awesome collection of recipes involving kale. We quickly decided that kale pesto would make the perfect meal, and it definitely did not disappoint.

I've never posted recipes before, but this one was too good not to share.

If we're going to be completely honest here... I ate all the leftover pesto with a spoon last time. It's that good.

This batch came out a little bit chunky because I was just using a blender instead of a food processor. Luckily I was happy with the outcome either way! 

Magic Gardens

A few weeks ago, my friend Daniel visited me from the UK. Having people visit you in your home city is fantastic because you get to play tourist all day, and rediscover all of your old favorites.

One of these things was the Magic Gardens. Right on South Street, it's a space covered entirely in mosaic art. It's beautiful from the outside, but you really have to go in to get the full experience.

Home

It's weird when you start referring to multiple places as home. I say that I'm home now, yet I also say I'm going home to London in September. It's a tricky balance between feeling like I don't have a home, and feeling at home everywhere I go.

This post is about my home in the suburbs of Philadelphia where I've spent most of my life. Being back here is always bittersweet. It's great to be able to spend time with my family and friends, to spend some time in Philly, and explore the things that have been lost in the depths of my messy room.

But there are also so many memories. Every detail of the hardest years of my life are ingrained in this place, and as much as I would like to say that I am completely at peace with my past and therefore not bothered by these things, that isn't entirely true.

This is not to say that the things that have affected me in the past affect me today, or that things that have come and gone are constantly on my mind. But being home triggers memories, and some things have been forgotten but not quite forgiven. My imagination is to vivid-- if I think about something to much I feel as if I'm experiencing it all over again.

Weekend in Colorado

About 24 hours after I landed in Philadelphia, I was back at the airport headed to Colorado with my parents. Although my internal clock is still a little bit confused, it was very much worth all the rushed traveling. I got to spend time with family who I don't see very often while surrounded by amazing scenery. It was the perfect way to spend my first weekend at home.

Flying

When I was a kid, I loved to fly.

To be among the clouds, to be one of the specs I so often watched fly above me, wondering what exciting adventures the people aboard were embarking upon, I found absolutely fascinating.

Now that I travel so much more, many aspects are frustrating. Airports are a pretty terrible place to spend time, and there's always rushing, and waiting around, and lots of stress.

But once I get on the plane, a little bit of that childish excitement always returns.

I still always look out the window as the plane takes off. 

I love to watch the city I'm leaving grow smaller and smaller, until all I can see is clouds.

Weekend pictures

Over the weekend, Alex and I visited his family in Devon. It's pretty great being able to go 'home' for a weekend even when I'm in England.

On Saturday we went for a walk on Dartmoor. After being in London for so long, it's pretty incredible to spend some time looking at such a beautiful landscape.

Moving Day

Moving out was abrupt.

Not the process. Getting everything together took far longer than expected, from checking in with the storage place to the 'last few' things I needed to pack up. It was a long day for me, and for Alex who somehow managed to power through helping me all day while dealing with my grumpiness.

I imagined having some sort of goodbye with my room. Taking a couple of pictures, hanging around for a bit reminiscing on the year.

But by the time my final items had found a nook or cranny in one of the bags to be shoved into, neither of us felt like hanging around any longer than we had to.

I won't miss the loudness or the dirtiness of student halls. I won't miss lugging tons of stuff back and forth between my room and Alex's, somehow always forgetting something I meant to bring. I am so much more excited to be living with Alex when I come back in the fall.

But there was something comforting about having one small space in London that was all mine. It was my first home here, and I'll miss it.

A wave of nostalgia hit me as we closed the door-- suddenly this room, this space of mine, was gone.


And I have not even a picture of an empty room to share.

Insomnia

found here

Lately my days have been feeling far away.

Academic Life with ADD

I've been popping ritalin every couple of hours (don't worry I'm still under the prescribed limit). I feel distant and dull, but today has been more productive than the past week, and the improvement from yesterday is vast.

This isn't sustainable. At some point I'm going to crash, and I can only hope I've accomplished enough before then. I'm a ticking time bomb. (Great time to be blogging, eh?)

Sometimes I feel like the ADD is just another excuse. What kid isn't diagnosed at some point?

It's vague and can't be pinned down. Beating it is a matter of self will, and mine doesn't show its face too often.

I've finally stopped questioning my intelligence so much, but that doesn't lighten the frustration. In fact, maybe self doubt was just easier than explaining that I really do have worthwhile thoughts, but I just can't seem to express them. I do know how to think, or I did once, but I think somewhere along the way I may have forgotten.

Trying to get support at Goldsmiths has been frustrating. In the past, those who have dealt with my weaknesses have also seen my abilities. Have been the ones reminding me of them when they seemed most distant. Now only my weaknesses are exposed, and somewhere, amidst the self doubt, the urgent need to prove myself is beginning to emerge.

I want to learn. So badly. I am interested in so many things and want to research them until I can't make my eyes focus on another word. But for as long a I can remember, academic institutions have felt like an impossible obstacle course I need to make my way through in order to unlock the next stage of life.

Flashbacks

Years later, I still draw my inspiration from this moment. This is my turning point.

On Street Harassment

via pinterest 

I love the summer and have been whining all through the winter waiting for the sun to come out. I am such a summer person. Even when it's hot, humid, and sweaty, I still prefer it to the winter. I love how easy it is to throw on a dress or shorts and a t shirt, not having to put on three layers to leave the house (and immediately start sweating when back in the warmth). But easy summer outfits mean showing more skin, which would be fine with me if this didn't result in a huge increase in street harassment. 

I remember when I first started getting attention from men on the street. I was eleven or twelve. At this point I was always pretty excited for someone to be saying they thought I was attractive. The excitement wore off quickly, and as I got older my reactions would depend entirely on my mood. Sometimes I would find it funny to wave or nod flirtatiously, sometimes I would give them the finger. Now it's always the finger.

While it would still be despicable, I think I would be slightly less disgusted if the end game of the men who honk and holler at me was to get in my pants. At least there is some sort of goal or purpose there. But no, the majority of men who honk or yell to women they pass know it won't get them anywhere. It isn't a compliment, it's a way of saying you are here for my entertainment. Your worth is measured in how much I want to bang you. No matter how you react or what you do, I will still see you as a sexual object. 

I'm sure that many of these men would say that they're just playing around, deny these hidden messages. And many of them would probably believe what they were saying. We're so used to these behaviors being the norm, and I'm pretty fucking tired of it.

Too frequently I hear women being blamed for the reactions they get to their bodies. If you didn't want the attention why did you wear that? you knew what to expect.. Women are taught this every day. From school dress codes to rape blame, women are being told that their bodies are always sexual, and are their responsibility to keep hidden away. 

I don't show my body the way I might want to because it isn't worth it to me. It isn't worth it to be harassed everywhere I go. It isn't worth it to be told it's my fault, that I look like a slut. I don't want to hear that I'll obviously get a sexual response because my body is a symbol of sexuality. My body can do so many things, sex is such a small part of that.

If you've experienced street harassment (and if you're a female reader I feel almost certain that you have ) I would love to hear your thoughts, and how you choose to handle it.

If you want to read more about this, I recently read an amazing post on truthfully, and would also urge you to check out hollaback!, an online project aiming to end street harassment.

On Homesickness

Today I was caught off guard by the first wave of homesickness I've felt since moving to London in September. I've been thinking about summer a lot, and looking forward to spending some time in Philly. But I also know that after about a week I'll be missing London tons, thinking every day of how I can't wait to get back here. I guess that's the problem with feeling settled in too many different places-- no matter where you are you're always homesick for somewhere else.

It's a familiar feeling, having first joined me when I started going to overnight summer camps as a kid. I went to two, and my experiences at each continue to be a huge part of who I am. Both felt like home to me. I spent the other parts of my year missing them, and my time at each missing the other, and sometimes missing home. Not that these nostalgic feelings took away from my experiences, just that they always seemed to be slipping around in the back of my mind somewhere.

The more experiences I have, the more places I'm aching to call home. I frequently daydream about India. I miss the mountains in a way I've never missed of nature before. I miss how colorful it was and the people who were my family those three months. It's a strange feeling, knowing that I will never get those exact feelings back. I hope I will return to India some day, but my situation will be so distant from what it was.

It's stranger still feeling that I'm past the point of knowing where to call home. Just floating I guess, which isn't so bad. I like being in the in-between.