Because this is the first time I’ve been away from home for Christmas with no plans to go back, I thought it would be nice to send my Mother a handmade Christmas Card, with a review of all the things I’ve done this year. It ballooned, of course. And if you were on my Christmas Card List you probably got one.

Well, Mum liked it, anyway. It was a fun, small thing that I did. Do any of you create yearly reviews to send out with your Christmas cards??

Hope your New Years was as pretty as mine x

So, it’s coming to the end of 2011 and I thought that as blogging + I are on the outs at the moment (I’m just not feeling it, you know?) that I’d do one last post for the year and square everything away.

Egypt
I went. And it was delightful. There was windsurfing, and kitesurfing and paddleboarding and snorkeling. I got a tan, and spent an awful lot of time being warm. I ate an awful lot of Egyptian Food, and drank well too much Egyptian Vodka. I spent a lot of time with my cousin Morfee, and he’s brilliant to hang with. I (surprisingly) miss him now that he’s not around so much. We hung out with the Neilson crew, I spent a lot of time sunning myself in front of a bar that sat on a lagoon. I fed a ridiculous amount of stray kittens, and napped and I rode a camel.

We also did a day trip out to Cairo, where we so the pyramids, learned to say “la shukran” to all the people trying to sell me stuff. We even (though not advised by any embassy that I could find) went to Tahrir Square. It was the one place we went to where we were the only tourists. We saw a tiny part of a revolution, and it was pretty amazing. Tense, but amazing.

Whitewater Rafting
I did it. On London’s Olympic Course months and months ago now, with The Third + Fourth Quarters, with J, and with a Bunny. We got wet. We capsized. We paddled our little hearts out. There was a lot of water in the face, a lot of trying to sync our paddling with the person in front and not get caught up with the paddle of the person behind us. It was a lot of mad grinning and bumping into other rafts and I generally had an absolutely brilliant time. Apparently the park opens back up again in January, so if you are London based and get the opportunity, you should go!

Culture++; and other fun things I did
I have seen a bunch of shows in the last little while. Les Miserables, which I enjoyed quite a lot. The Phantom of the Opera, which I enjoyed less. The Phantom was quite creepy and very insecure. Sibling
graduated from university, I’m super proud of her! I’m also well annoyed that I couldn’t be there, and the other side of the world seems too far away. There was a usability conference, Liz + Rob came and stayed (and we visited Byron Burger, honestly, best mac+cheese I’d had in a long time!), there has been a bunch of design work (windsurfing brand redesigns, bio oil conversion site, b+b’s, a possible forrrst for photos) so yes, been busy.

The Dating Files of 2011
I had loads of posts for this. Loads of little moments I wanted to remember, and things I wanted to better understand. But I managed to discard the draft in which I’d stored all these moments. Fail. In the interest of keeping it short + sweet there were two Jimmy’s that I haven’t mentioned yet. One I spent a good six months trying not to fall for before his visa ran out (and was mostly successful) and the other, well, let’s just say that sleeping with that super cute Windsurfing Instructor in Egypt was probably not the cleverest idea I’ve ever had.

Anyway, as it’s the end of 2011 I’m retiring this series. Also, I’m avoiding boys and gettin into anything anyway, so it would be a pretty boring series going into 2012.

The List
I have done a bunch of things (#112 – See 10 invaders pieces in person, #118 Ride a camel) and crossed off parts of a few other ones. I’m glad that I still have The List, and that I’m still crossing things off. I feel like these deserve their own posts, and so will have them.

The Blog
While I’ll still blog about The List, I’m not really feeling blogging in general. So while I’ll still be around, and still comment and read all your blogs, I probably won’t update here is much. Maybe when inspiration strikes, but not much more. Call it a new phase?

Hope your holidays are brilliant, Merry Christmas!

elly x

I’m in Egypt, in Dahab. As I type this, I’m set up in a bar by a lagoon. I’m in a bikini, still slightly wet, having just come off the water and out of a windsurfing lesson. I’ve been here a week, and oh oh oh, it’s been glorious! It’s been warm, deliciously deliciously warm. I’m tanned, and quite happy with my lot at the moment.

The people are brilliant, from the Neilson crew (who, very conveniently, my travelling buddy Morfee is part of, thanks to his seasons in Greece), the other guests, the Datchet crew, the guy behind the bar – Naggy, who flirts outrageously with all the girls here.

It is a gorgeous place to be. This afternoon I’ma go back on the water and hopefully learn how to beachstart. There’s a dregs party with the Datchet crew, and then the Neilson BBQ. There will be Camel riding out into the desert with a Bendouin BBQ. There is a bunch of kitesurfing to be had, cocktails to be drunk, and partying to be danced.

I’d planned to write a bunch of posts so you wouldn’t notice my absence, but while I’m here? Writing is the last thing I want to do. Sooo, I will let you know when I’m back in a week or two.

Till then, this is the view I’ve got. Hope your view is just as pretty x

Chronic Ankle Instability. That’s what the physio said when he told me stand on one foot and I fell over. The reason I’m having such issues with my ankles, that I’ll do something relatively normal like walk down stairs and then suddenly and unexpectedly be on my face and unable to walk is because my ankles are unstable. Chronically so.

I rather suspected this, but was doing that great denial thing of ‘its fine’ and ‘I’ll just walk it off, its good’. I was playing netball all the time, I was running a few times a week, and I was adventuring. None of these things are good for unstable ankles, apparently. I was aware of this too, aware that any uneven paving stone could have me limping through the rest of my run, or landing on someones foot in netball could have me off the court in no time.

So I was glad when the physio gave me something to do to fix it. He said that the tendons in my ankles were basically like rubber bands that had lost their elasticity. That they’d been pulled, but were all stretchy + didn’t snap back to normal. He gave me a section of rubber film and started me on resistance training. A whole bunch of not interesting things to do with this rubber film that is apparently going to make things better. And a whole bunch of stability exercises. Calf lifts. Standing on one foot with my eyes closed. I’m meant to do it 3 times a day for the next forever. And I’m meant to give up netball and running and all that other stuff.

Well, I’ve stopped running. I probably won’t stop netball. And all that other stuff is a pretty vague term, so if it doesn’t involve running, then I figure its good. Like rock climbing, say. Or long walks, probably still good. Boris bike adventuring. We’ll see. It’s been a few weeks, and I’ve managed to do the exercises at least once. I spend an awful lot of time standing on one foot (which I feel ridiculous for, because I’m wobbly like a wobbly thing), and while I still don’t trust my ankles not to give out, they haven’t given out since. That’s got to be a good sign, right?

I’ll let you know. Do any of you have chronic ankle instability? How’s that working out for you??

I was shocked at his unexpected attack. He called me weak, he called me spineless. He told me I was only one of the many many sluts who have done what I done. I must be especially transparent, because he took every insecurity I had and then he hit me over the head with them. He wrote himself in as a victim, that I was more drama than he wanted to deal with, that he didn’t want to have to listen to this shit. I protested, but, as he continued, I broke down and agreed. Because to my ears? He was right, I was useless, and weak, and a million other things I didn’t want to be. And in a moment of perfectly timed self-pity, instead of fighting back, I fell to pieces.

It was at about that moment that he stood up, decided that his work was done, and swaggered off down the road.

I stood where I was and I cried. I sobbed my little heart out, half hidden in some strangers garden. I called home a handful of times, to no answer. I felt alone, and I felt pathetic. I felt like I was all the dramatic things that I did not want to be. Like I had betrayed myself. I was humiliated.

Eventually, my brain kicked in and I called my friend Bunny, who was only half a city rather than a 12 hour timezone away, and he talked me down. I listened to what he said, and I got my shit together. Once I was able to breathe, once I’d dried my tears, I realised a few things. That all of his opinions? They were not about things that were any of his business. That he didn’t know me, nor my reasons for doing what I’d done. He wasn’t even involved in any shape, way or form.

At the time, I decided that this probably wasn’t about me at all. That maybe? Maybe I was just a convenient punching bag. An easy target for him to get out whatever he needed to. I decided that this was the case, that I wasn’t any of things he said, and then I got all high and mighty. Took it as lesson in trusting people less and opening my eyes more. I hoped that he felt better, getting it all out on me, rather than someone else who might take his words to heart. I hoped that I had helped take the edge of whatever is going on in his life, and in doing so that he would be better equipped to deal with it.

I made valiant ‘next time’ statements, that next time I wouldn’t take it without a fight. That there will be no more left hooks from an unexpected quarter. That I would not willingly be a convenient punching bag. I would not let some bastard make me cry so that he can feel better. I would not let someone paint themselves a victim with my insecurities again.

I was rocking denial like a big giant shield, getting all high and mighty, and making sweeping assumptions left right and centre.

But really? Really I’m an idiot who didn’t listen.

What I should have seen was that he was right. More than right, actually. He wasn’t tactful about it, not in the slightest, but what he was saying, at heart, was something I needed to hear. It’s just that I wasn’t listening to all the things he was saying. What he was doing was being a friend, he’d seen I was in a situation I didn’t want to be in, and that I hadn’t realised I was in it. He was saying that I’d let myself ignore the values I held, and that I was better than this. That I needed to step up, that I was worth more. That I had a choice, and I shouldn’t be doing this to myself.

It wasn’t his intention to be malicious, or make me cry. When I did he skedaddled. He took no joy from this, I don’t think. But I wanted to package it all up nice and proper and paint him as the bad guy. He isn’t the bad guy, there aren’t many people who will step in and tell you that you’re doing it wrong. There aren’t many people who will take the time, when it’s none of their business, and say you’re a friend, and you’re better than this. Okay, fair enough, I personally wouldn’t do it with insults, but I think his intentions were good.

It took a while, a week or two maybe, but eventually I caught up. Eventually I realised that he was right, and that I should do something about it. So I did, and while the world is not peachy, I’m satisfied that I can be held accountable to the things in which I believe.

Maybe a dressing down is just what I needed to take the step up. Life lessons, aye? I’ll take ‘em as they come, in whatever messed up form they may be in.

I was in Split two days. Two gloriously wonderful days. Split is gorgeous. We camped on a peninsula, with these big great mountains on one side, and a super cute little harbour on the other. I was happiest here, I think. The weather was gorgeous, it was often too hot for clothes and I spent as much time as I could in the water, the gorgeous turquoise coloured water. It was clear, and warm, and amazing. Or sunbathing on the jetty. I enjoy nothing more than being gloriously warm, lying in the sun with not much to do.

I remember going for a swim as soon as camp was set up. Diving in off the jetty, marvelling in what it was like to swim in the sea again. It’s been a while, almost ridiculously long. The water wasn’t quite cold, but wasn’t far off. I remember swimming with Jimmy, and being wary to move away everytime he disappeared under the water, least my feet or legs get pinched.

I remember delving into the book I’d borrowed, well aware that I’d have to give it back soon. I got caught up in it’s plot. There was a lot of action and a battle was coming. I was sad when I finished it, anxious to pick up the next one. I was also delighted that I was able to sit in the sun and read. I used to sit in the garden back home, and I’d forgotten how very wonderful it was to pass the time that way.

I remember playing Circle of Death, and I got my first Fourth King. I don’t remember what we were drinking. Liquors, I think. I want to say it was some kind of berry schnappes. Needless to say it put me on my behind rather quickly.

I remember sneaking off into the dark with Jimmy. We argued, and laughed, and talked. We got told off for being too loud. We watched fish jump out of the estuary. We went on a bit of a mission, and I climbed over a fence in jandals and skirt. I somehow managed to mangle my ankle. I don’t quite know how, whether it was the climbing over the fence, or the climbing over the rocks to get to the fence, but I hurt it. I also had one of those ‘aha’ moments. Except that it came like a slap in the face, and I was upset and angsted. Still, it was an aha moment, even if it was painful one.

I remember waking up at 4 in the morning, the geometric pattern of the tent hurting my poor, still drunk eyes, and my brain working overtime on that ‘aha’ moment. I stole the sleeping bag and headed to the jetty. It was cold, and calm. Super quiet. At about 6 people started moving. A rowing team paddled back and forth past me, people went for early morning swims, and cars started down the motorway. A while past then, the sun came up over the mountains. And it was a glorious glorious sight. The rocks all turning pink and orange, the heat as the light hit me, how the whole sky brightened.

I remember that after a while I came to terms with that wretched ‘aha’ moment. I stretched, and lay out in the sun, having claimed the jetty. After a while Jimmy appeared, and we sat, and snoozed. There was book reading, and comfortable silence. He disappeared, and returned later with a hot chocolate and coffee. We went swimming. I swam in my underwear, because changing would have meant leaving the jetty and I didn’t want to. It was glorious, the swimming. Being in the water. I remember thinking that there wasn’t enough time here, that I wanted to spend more time in the sun, being warm and doing nothing. I soaked up as much of it as I could, hoarding it, revelling in it. I remember watching Jimmy jump from the conveniently supplied diving boards, laughing at his form. I remember watching the sprats swim in the warm waters nearest the rocks, and crabs scuttling from side to side.

I remember that when it got colder, when the wind picked up (cheers, convection) and we moved to the bar for pizza + drinks. Sitting in the sun, still wet from the swimming. After we wandered into Split.

Split is gorgeous, parts of the old palace (of the Roman Empire Dicletian) is still there, with it’s super worn (and slippery) cobblestones, gorgeous archways and awkwardly tiny little back alleys. The St. Duje Cathedral is still there too, with it’s old pillars and pretty bell tower. Mostly I remember eating gelato, because it was awfully warm that night.

We wandered down markets, and brought a silly amount of postcards. We wandered through the allyways hand in hand, getting lost in the old part of the city, coming across high st stores in impossibly small places. I remember sitting on the waterfront, with a foot in the water, a Jimmy at my back, talking of I don’t even remember what. We watched big giant boats all lit up with little lights leave the harbour. I remember walking by groups of elders, wanting to listen as they sang old Croatian songs. Past the jetty with all their little boats and nets and bouys awaiting the next day. Sitting at a high table with a drink, writing a bunch of postcards. It was a pretty lovely night. I was sad when it ended, and we went back to the campsite.

I left the next morning, bright + early. I was not happy about leaving, I really didn’t want to go. I felt that I hadn’t had enough time soaking up the sun, enough time swimming, or appreciating being so very close to the ocean. Needless to say I enjoyed Split most, I think. And I’ve got a soft spot for it. I’m going to go back, I think. Spend more time swimming, and sunbathing.

Still, I felt lucky to have been given a week to see a new part of the world. To see places and people and cultures I hadn’t seen before.

I will go back, though. One day, anyway.

We drove from Ljubljana in Slovenia, to Plitvice, in Croatia. It was a bit of a ridiculous trip, and we had issues crossing the border. I shan’t say more than that because it’s not really my story to tell. There was much waiting, and a little bit of stressing, but we eventually got through okay. It was a bit of an eye opener, though. Still, I think we were all very glad to get moving. There was a load of mountains between the border + Plitvice. We watched lightening strike the other side of the ranges as we wound our way through, which was bizarre. I think we were all glad to finally get to the bungalows that night.

That second day the boys disappeared for the day and me + S hung out. It was raining, which was unexpected and was a bit of a downer. We spent our time getting lost, watching movies, and hanging out at the restaurant. After lunch we freaked ourselves out by having lightening strike quite near us. There was a blinding flash that startled me, followed by the loudest crash of thunder of I’ve ever heard, it made my heart beat a million times a minute, scared the living shit out me, and made me run like a headless chicken away from where we were. We laughed hysterically, with fear. It was bizzarre, and neither of us could settle afterwards, the adrenline running through our veins was ridiculous. It meant that when the boys did get back, we were all very relieved. I think we were all very glad to back to a happy foursome, and we all hung out together, watching tv + napping. Had dinner.

After Jimmy + I went to Bosnia for dessert. A little town 40k away, across the border. It was novel, crossing the border for drinks. There was wandering around the centre of the tiny town we’d visited. It was bizarre that every bar we passed was blasting american pop songs as loud as they could. We had gelato, and picked a random bar and drank some ridiculous Croatian/Slovenian alcohol. We stayed for ages. Long enough for several rounds of whatever took our fancy. Rounds of chocolates + espressos. Vodka + Orange’s. Bosnian beer. Something that tasted like herbal jager. We made friends with the barmen, one of who spoke English, another who didn’t. I remember the currency being pretty random. We paid in Euros, and got Konvertibilna Marks back. I was amused no end, it’s one of the perks of travelling, I think, the many different currencies, the different weights and images and dimensions. I got a kick out of it, anyway.

The next day we hit up Plitvice Lakes. It’s a giant world heritage site, and is gorgeous. There are a dozen or so lakes that cascade one into the other, with very pretty waterfalls between each. The lakes are gorgeous, and are all super clear (you could see the bottom of each quite clearly, including the fish that lived in them) and were gorgeous colours. Turquoise, azure, green. It was all kinds of phenomenal. The lakes were surrounded by a pretty lush rainforest, clearly there was some kind of rich ecosystem goodness going on there.

When we went it was raining, and cold. I’d also done my ankle in, so the four hour hike was all kinds of fun for me. I used Jimmy as a crutch more often than not, which was fun for us both. We didn’t buy one of the maps, but the signs were easy enough to follow. There was a ferry ride (which was gorgeous, and freezing) and towards the end, a bus ride back to the information centre where we started. By this point I was positively shivering, and was glad to headed back to the campsite. Still, it was a gorgeous experience. I’ve never seen anything so pretty.

We left the next morning, and headed towards Split. I was all bundled up, and was wearing as many layers as I could. It was pretty brilliant driving down the mountains. The closer we got the coast, the warmer it was. I discarded layers as we descended, it was pretty random. I adored the heat, though. I love being warm. It was pretty interesting to see how the terrain changed the lower we got. The lush rainforest switched out with dusty scrub. It was bizzare watching the socio-economic level change, too. In Plitvice there were loads of well kept buildings. Out here in the scrub buildings were abandoned, and falling apart. There were giant holes in roofs, missing doors or fallen down walls.

Worse was getting pulled over by the policija. We hadn’t been going very fast (it was a 3 tonne red van, not exactly the speediest of vehicles) but we’d going well under what TomTom had told us what the speed limit was. Sadly, the policija said that the limit had changed, and we were well going over it.

We pulled over, as requested. It was hot, we were on the side of a completely deserted dusty road in the middle of nowhere. Not suss at all. Jimmy went over to talk (which, as they spoke little english, was mostly sign language, I think) to them, and came back, sure enough, to ask us how much cash we had on us. In Euros, not Croatian Kuna. We pooled what we had, and he went back, paid the fine, and off we went. Later he told us how ‘the paper’ cost €150, and ‘no paper’ cost €100. We’d effectively bribed the policija. Apparently this is not uncommon at all.

Soon after we hit the coast. The view was gorgeous, and there were all these little viewing platforms from which to admire them. The buildings looked fancier, and things in general looked like a civilisation I recognized. By this time it was well too hot to wear clothes, and I was well glad to be warm again. It seemed mind boggling to have started that morning fairly frozen and then to be standing a few hours later in a tropical climate.

I was glad to have left Plitvice, and looking at the gorgeous ocean views, I was very very glad to be in Split.