How To Lose Control

Finger tapping on the desktop. Tap, tap, tap. It feels as though each tap wastes a little more time, a little more life, a little more buzz. I picture myself as one of the sisters from The Virgin Suicides - a kind of entrapment. I have only been in my house, on my own, for a few hours. I haven't got plans for the rest of the day. The clock ticks and I picture blank space, blank time. One of the most exciting things in the world is a blank page. Or it should be.

A gust of wind picks up a few autumn leaves and I try to grab every one. I grab opportunities, plant seeds, find roots. Deep breath.

I realised I am energised by opportunities and interactions, motivated more by doing things, seeing people. In a way, perhaps I should feel less guilty for doing nothing. People don't do nothing enough. I find it hard enough to sit down with a book for too long without feeling the need to check my phone for notifications. The world can wait.

I find it hard enough to watch a film all the way through without being tempted by the flashing light of a notification from my handset. Sitting my way through a lecture, a conversation with a friend, reading a magazine, doing one thing at a time; why is that so hard? It becomes the pinnacle of multitasking. Always doing.

I repeat, the world can wait.

I admit, I use social media too much. I wait at the keyboard, scroll down the feed/timeline/dashboard in wait of the next notification, the next distraction, the next thing I can add to my to do list. Scrolling time could be used for reading, working, relaxing. Yet, as I do one thing, my thoughts turn to another.
I want to relax but I should work. I stress so I should relax - nothing gets done. If I never relax, if I multi task constantly, if I remain on the ball all the time then everything will get done, surely.
So I wait for that notification, the next thing on my to do list that will take priority before my essay. Filling up my to do list to avoid the last thing I prioritised.

Blank spaces should not limit me. I should not be discouraged by them but enthralled, fascinated. Let's just get lost and see where life takes me. Let the current guide me, because where I end up could be better than where I had planned to go. And because it's okay to do nothing.

Naked and Foreign in Istanbul

'My body is a temple'... I whisper to myself as I undress and slip on a pair of elasticated, barely there knickers I was given upon entry to the Hamam.

I mutter it under my breath lying in a pool of soapy bubbles as a semi naked Turkish woman presses her hands into knots in my back. I am being observed by another naked customer. 

I stare at the dome ceiling and count the coloured lights as my limbs are scrubbed raw and I am subjected to luxury. This is the life?

The whole experience was absurd. The main reason why it was so absurd, to me at least, was the nakedness of everyone in the room and the sheer lack of decency. Yet, no one batted an eyelid at the infinite nudity, or the tastefully lacy underwear my masseur paraded around. 

In Istanbul, it is relatively westernised and the average tourist can expect to comfortably wear semi revealing clothing. Of course, there are inevitably women who wear full coverings. In fact, there is a whole spectrum of lengths to which women cover up their bodies in Istanbul. Reasons may be religious. Reasons may be because the woman feels self-conscious or perhaps she is wary of the male gaze. On my first day here I opted to wear long trousers and a long sleeved top. Other women around me were comfortably wearing shorts and vest tops. I know I would feel slightly uncomfortable in shorts and a vest top. That is nothing in comparison to how I felt in the Hamam.
But, I think about how unperturbed I was by the other semi-naked women in the Hamam apart from my astonishment by how at ease they were. I think about how women should not be self conscious of their bodies in public because other women do not judge as much as they think. Nor is the male gaze the fault of the woman being stared at. So, we shouldn't be so afraid to wear what we like.

I have come to realise how ridiculous self-consciousness can be sometimes. Why should I be uncomfortable in the situation I was in?  The naked body is natural, and, especially in the presence of other woman with similar bodies and concerns, I should feel completely at ease. But, it's different in public and in the Hamam, even though I felt as though I was counting the minutes until I didn't have to be almost naked in a public sauna.

I suppose I am writing this in order to try and work out why it seemed to be such a surreal experience. I suppose it was a culture shock. This is part of travelling.
I felt the need to share this experience with others. I'm very glad that I simply decided to just go and do it. I was very far from my comfort zone but that's where life begins: the moment you step out of your comfort zone. Despite my discomfort, I would do it again.

When you visit another country where the culture is significantly different, you have to be mentally naked. You have to be open minded, like a sponge, ready to adapt and soak in the culture and customs and atmosphere. That may include getting naked and being washed or wearing a chador so I can enter a mosque. It's pointless getting a McDonald's when you can authentically try one of the best cuisines in the world. I urge everyone to embrace the culture wherever they go. If you don't like it, you never have to do it again.

Why I Don't Mind Looking Like a Tourist

One thing that resonated in my journal over my inter-railing trip was the way in which the people make a city; not only the locals but the tourists, not only the permanent residents but the visitors make the city. I am predominantly interested in the culture, in the way that I am almost invading someone else's home. I am fascinated by the way that I could be standing or sitting in the spot that someone had their first kiss, got engaged or found out they were a grandparent. I arrived in each city knowing only about the iconic views and the famous sights. Sightseeing is by no means the be all and end all of travelling.

On the way back to London from Paris, my fellow travellers and I read each other's recordings of the trip. I noticed that I was the only one who noted down our encounters with people.

Of course, my fascination with people watching is evident from previous blog posts and perhaps this is an extension of that thought process.

Our only unfortunate encounters were a little too frequent. As a group of three girls we had more than our fair share of catcalls or unwanted male attention. However, we were also approached by friendly male travellers. We met two Canadian boys on the way from Vienna to Prague and two slightly more than friendly Australian boys in Amsterdam (see below). I enjoyed the unity that formed when we, fellow traveller, Callum from Manchester and a German student were forced to fit into a six seater compartment where eight resided.

I was astounded at the friendliness of one traveller to another. In Vienna, we were caught in a group photo when a party of Turkish tourists lined up next to us. After meekly edging away we were invited to join the group photo and even take selfies with them. One man kissed our hands before departing. 

In Prague, a man offered to give us a free segway trial run: kindness in a different form.

Sometimes, overhearing English tourists relieved home sickness for a little time. Whilst bizarre, they made me laugh. In Budapest, walking past a violinist, a tourist behind me chirped 'do you think he knows any Dizzee Rascal?'.
A man in Berlin took a look at the Brandenburg gate and asked 'Is this where Hitler what done his speech?'.

I admired how much music brought people together. At the station in Amsterdam there was a piano open to the public to be played. Every time I walked past, someone was playing their heart out, singing at the top of their voice. A piano also rested on the top floor of Shakespeare and Company in Paris. No one was playing but the sentiment was there. I was still charmed by the knowledge of the piano's musical past.
Dancing was prominent in Paris. At the Sacre Coeur, a man with headphones was dancing on his own in the middle of the steps facing the magnificent view of the city skyline. Whilst he was gyrating his hips with added occasional thrusting, I was just glad he was enjoying himself.
On the evening of our second night in Paris, a group of dancers were tangoing at sunset opposite the Eiffel Tower. Two men in matching anoraks joined in, or at least attempted to copy the dancers. Their intoxicated bodies tripping over themselves created a new dance in itself.

Of course there are the places where the presence of others makes little difference. There are places, that I believe, have innate charm. Whilst affected by the people, they are beautiful in solitude or bustling with tourists. Shakespeare and Company held innate charm for me. I especially adored Prague Beer Garden. We sat at sunset by the river drinking Czech beer whilst music played behind us. I feel as though I would have enjoyed this in solitude or in company.

Short Letter to My Past Self

Dear Alice, specifically year 10 Alice. Age 14/15 Alice.

You do not yet know the effects of perspective. Despite your anxieties about the space you are living in, you will pull through. You are intimidated by the girls who surround you, enclosed in a ten bed dorm in boarding school. The bubble is indeed hard to pop. 

So, look at the stars more often. Try and put your life in perspective. Embrace your difference to them. But, don't rebel against the norms just for the sake of rebelling. Try as hard as you can not to romanticise sadness. 

You have just started your GCSE year. They will be the hardest exams you will take. Not because of their difficulty but because you will have to fill your mind with information you do not want to learn the way they teach it in schools. You do not like maths. You do not like science. I would tell you to appreciate your education but I still don't know how algebra will help you in later life.

I know you have your heart set on Cambridge or Oxford and you are so capable of getting there. Unfortunately you won't get there.

But, honestly, that doesn't matter one bit. In fact I believe that where I am now is better and more comfortable and much more suited to you than Cambridge or Oxford would ever be. You are going to have the time of your life at university. Trust me. 19 year old you says so. So, try not to pinch yourself every time you get something wrong. Allow yourself to make mistakes. Make glorious amazing mistakes. Even if it means dyeing your hair purple or black or keeping that awful side fringe. This is because you'll learn how god damn horrific it looks and you'll sort it out soon enough.

Please stop ironically wearing 3D glasses with the lenses popped out.

Don't fret about your body. You will not be a tall, skinny model by 19 but you will be so much more confident.

So then, your future. A lot will happen in four years so prepare yourself. You are yet to meet a couple of friends whom I'm sure you will have for life. It's worth it to keep breathing just for that. You are yet to discover how much you love reading and writing and you are yet to discover what you will go on to do as a degree (it's history by the way). You're not passionate about History yet. Well... who is? I guess you'll realise that it's your best subject and whilst that does not seem likely now, A Level will make it seem much more exciting.

Don't you worry about the hierarchy of popularity that seems to be present at all secondary schools. That tends to disappear once you get to A Levels and will be non-existent once you get to University.

Do not, and I repeat, Do not fret so much about boys. Do not ask them out by text.

Appreciate life a little more. Maybe boarding school is not the best place to discover new and amazing things but there is beauty in the most mundane spaces. Watch American Beauty and discover that even a plastic bag blowing in the breeze can be beautiful. Watch out for Katy Perrys.

Breathe because you will travel to Ghana within a year. Breathe because you will know how it feels to fall in love. Breathe because you will realise how much you value your family. Breathe because you will have incredible opportunities. I am writing this the night before I set off to travel Europe. You have that and so much more to look forward to.

Alice (2015)

Moments

Sometimes, I pause to consider a moment. 

I am lying in bed on a Sunday with no responsibilities to my name for the day; the rain makes music on my window pane. The window is open so my temperature is comfortable. I haven't moved from the position I was in since I woke. I am comfortably numb. The daylight seeps through the curtain basking my bedroom in an orange glow. My favourite song for the week repeats in my head. I couldn't say that in this moment I was completely happy but it was beautiful. I had nothing to complain about, nothing to do but lie and think of music.

A moment.

Sometimes they're more significant. I hitchhiked from Rugby to Southampton with two of my best friends for charity and the most beautiful thing I gained from my adventure was a warm heart, purely because I was astounded at the kindness of humans. The second was the phenomenal beauty of strangers. Every person I got into a car with was endlessly fascinating. I hungered for their little life anecdotes. I craved sustenance in the form of friendship through kindness.

Perhaps people were more willing to open up because of our silly fancy dress; maybe our charitable task helped others to see virtue. Maybe it was the sheer excitement that radiated from our wide eyes and smiling mouths, eager for adventure and with enthusiasm for the road. I aspired to be the modern day Jack Kerouac. “I just go along, I dig life” is what I whispered to myself each time a passer-by ignored our efforts to hitch a ride - ambitious and viciously hopeful. Each challenge satisfied our beating hearts.

The Ferris wheel caught me unguarded. At the top, I breathed in, idealistic and dizzy and truly satisfied with where the road had taken me. It was as though I had woken up from a broken heart - un-blinded and unbearably ecstatic. We had discovered a fairground in the middle of nowhere, a promise, a glass half-full. I’d collected a little glass half full of stories to tell. Moments

A baby is crying on the train. For a brief second I lock eyes with the stranger opposite me. The green eyes agree with me. We unite in mutual irritability. We reflect each other's body language. I feel like friendship is forming. It's a shame they got off the train before me.

I am sitting in my kitchen at uni with two of my flatmates giggling uncontrollably after one of them tried to eat his dinner off his plate without using his hands. Tomato sauce adorns his beard and I am laughing. We laugh together and we continue laughing at stupid things for most of the night. This was something that I didn't realise would be a memory until it was.

I like to notice moments, they make me feel as though life is worth living.