Feet in the cloud

"I am rooted, but I flow"

- Virginia Woolf

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It all started in winter 2012 when a few of my girl friends suggested we should go run the Brighton half marathon together; I was in a broken chain of half-hearted relationships and way too much vino, so thought this would give myself a nice challenge to step up to. Then as the runs go longer and further and faster, running becomes a habit, a fabric and a rhythm of life, an always much devoured break from the chimes of daily chores, through the sun and rain and occasional moonshine. In running, there is no destination, there is no sorrow. Only a moving meditation, a happy discipline.

Races so far (chronological order): Brighton half 2013 (PB 1:42) , Skye half 2013, Richmond half 2014, Hackney half 2014, Hastings half 2015, Edinburgh marathon 2015 (PB 3:44)

Favourite race: Isle of Skye half - scenic, hilly, exhilarating from start to finish blessed with Scottish sun

Gear: Love my new Helly Hansen top, currently on my third pair of nike free 5.0. Just got a pair of Saloman Fellraiser for the extra boggy trails. 

Routine: I usually run alone or with the boy but I also enjoy running with the lovely London/Manchester women group WMN RUN. I replenish with natural snacks made by the team at Tribe (they run great running challenges too)- or fuelled by Haribo. I no longer have energy gels after having too much of them during marathon race/training: they just do not feel natural or nourishing.

My favourite routes: Along River Lea then the Regent's Canal and River Thames. Hampstead Heath via the much dreaded Swain's Lane. Hill sprints at my local Alexandra Palace/Muswell Hill. The beautiful overgrown stretch of 3K the Parkland Walk. Wendover (a trail half marathon route by Rail to Trail, within an hour train ride from London). Box Hill. Run up any muddy hills in Snowdonia.


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This year I've switched from pounding the pavements to trails and fells - any excuse to escape the city is so welcomed. Upcoming races include the ever so hilly Endurance Series - Sussex 10K, a sprint triathlon (my first!) and hopefully, an ultra marathon (!) (Race to the King / Race to the Stones - inspired by the incredible audacity by the ladies of WMN RUN 100) - rota permitting. My next movement would be some early morning fell runs in the Lake District...

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Wintering

india hobson at the black shed, highlands

Longing for hills & snows more than ever. @wildguidescotland // Skye or Cairngorms? Or Iceland? // May this winter bring more peace to the world

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Capri sun

vanessa jackman

Dreaming of sun and sweet abandonment of village air. 

&

the first time I ever read Ferrante, by the ponds heavy with humid air and smell of grass: 

“Existence is this, I thought, a start of joy, a stab of pain, an intense pleasure, veins that pulse under the skin, there is no other truth to tell.” 

The armchair wanderer

from instagram * richardgaston

....merely to be with the mountain as one visits a friend, with no intention but to be with him.

- Nan Shepherd

In spite of the avalanche of working life I've been reading and dreaming and planning ferociously - the next adventure is in sight, my wanderlust lurking and brewing and about to overflow. It's time to get away. It's time to get away.

The triggers - 

Eulogy to Peter Matthiessen, the founder of the Paris Review / Reading the Living Mountain by Nan Shepherd - Robert MacFarlane's hymn to the wonderful book / Oh the Adventure Handbook - instagram has never been so inspiring / Natalie Smith on Morocco / how does that quote go? - "I don't like it when summer leaves but I like the way it walks away."

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Midsummer murmur

1. How could summer solstice come & go already? I have been watching sunsets every evening, letting the crimson light flood my bedroom -

2. The foliage is dark green, air is thick with fragrant jasmine and quiet white flowers -

3. The wilderness was perfect. Every time I think of those perfect few days spent on the water and under the vast sky - my heart is still. There has been a lot of undercurrents in the face of apparent calm water at present, but all shall be well. We shall sail through (practising mindfulness) -

4. Ran a glorious (albeit the slowest) half-marathon, stopping to help in the capacity of a doctor. A sense of pride and also the inevitable responsibility -

5. I've found the perfect house to move to next - creamy white wall with laurel green window frames, stripped down wooden floor, looking over a cosy rose garden. Plus rugs! Plus a direct bus to Cafe Oto! I cannot really ask for more (in London)

6. Still need to go to: RA Summer Exhibition, the Monks House and one day, Atelier Cézanne; finish the Edward St Aubyn's novels (toxic yet thrilling, read in conjunction with his brilliant New Yorker profile)

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Happiness forgets

"Even if happiness forgets you a little bit, never completely forget about it."

- Jacques Prévert 

- Almost there! Currently knee-deep in revision materials (and a mix of excitement and angst, washing over an already crumbling shore). But in the midst of chaos, there is always room for quietude, thoughts and happiness. 

In the transition period, I -
wear: a gray tshirt, jeans, a relaxed blazer, loafers (and a set of swimming kit in my bag on demand)
listen to: Charlotte Gainsbourg, bbc radio 4's Gardener's Question Time (it is mesmerising)
read: Ruby Tandoh's new column in Elle: Dinner Party Philosopher (I aspire too to be one)
look forward to: artisan wine! Picnic season, Matisse's cut outs at Tate Modern, flat-hunting (dreaming of herringbone floor), our wilderness adventure :)

One, one last push. Wish me luck!

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"stay glamorous, heal the sick"

The essential accessories: a pen / little pearl bracelet (although not on my wrist most of the time) / Aesop mandarin face cream / good old stethoscope

The last year in medical school has taken me to many places - from the old town and rice paddy fields of Vietnam to the rolling hills of Dorset - after living in leafy Hampstead for the past few months I am now placed in a busy hospital in one of the most deprived part of London for a three-month placement. On the first day of placement I was already asked for money on hospital ground when a lady in a wheelchair said she was starving on the way to see her HIV doctor - this has reminded me of how much need there is in the area and there are often so many deep-rooted social problems that remain unseen or ignored. There will be so much to learn and to reflect on during the week, and during the weekends I will have a stroll in Broadway Market and coffee & magazines at Violet Cakes to look forward to (they are a mere 15-minute train away!)

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Finally

Allow no shadow of regret to cloud you, 

No absurd grief to overcast your days. 

Never renounce love-songs, or lawns, or kisses 

Until your clay lies mixed with elder clay. 

- The Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám

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A year of twists and turns and beautiful surprises. It has taken me to many wild places - cotswolds, south downs, scotland, peak district - and inspired me to do many things, like writing, running & travelling solo, which have brought me enormous joy and audacity through the peaks and troughs. My darling family and friends have continuously been here to share lovely moments which made them multiple times better. To share picnics on the punt, long walks, noise and silence. To share books to read and music to listen and even better, hopes and dreams.

This is a year of introspection, a year when I finally feel having grown fully at peace with myself. Doing things at a balanced pace. Knowing that there's a right time for everything (Ecclesiastes 3). This is also a year when I received full communion in the Catholic church, witnessed by many old and new friends. The gift of faith has filled me with gratitude and strength ever since.

Finally, this is a year when I found love. A love that constantly gives and receives, a soul that understands the poetry before it is even spoken. I cannot wait to see how things will unfold for us in the next year :)

Thank you 2013 for the love & magic.

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Wild Places

here

“The mind I love must have wild places, a tangled orchard where dark damsons drop in the heavy grass, an overgrown little wood, the chance of a snake or two, a pool that nobody's fathomed the depth of, and paths threaded with flowers planted by the mind.”

- Katherine Mansfield

&

"Do you think there will be beer in Scotland? I can only imagine us putting down peaty-tasting whiskey while rain drives down outside & the sea is shrouded with mist. How well we shall get to know the antlered stag in the hall! The picture of Glencoe on the stairs! the crossed claymores in the bar!"

- Philip Larkin, Letters to Monica 

I cannot wait to leave the metropolis already - ditch the dress and don the boots. Matching hats, gloves and socks. Walk on the soil, make fire, feed ourselves with big pot of steeled cut oats with jersey cream. Whisky, lots of it to keep warm. Watch out for wildlife that cross our ways, talk, walk, silence, smoke, stars. 

Wilderness inspiration: Vanessa Jackman in Scotland, thinking about Christmas, the Lone Wolf Weekend by Kinfolk, Hard Leisure Walks of Snowdonia

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Lotus Flower

 

 

 

 

 

Revisiting pictures and scribbles from travelling, a good while ago. (Some in text, some in Moleskine - but I was half sober on margarita that handwriting became barely legible) It all already feels so far away and long ago. I remember the midnight dips, long walks, motorcycle rides. Vietnam was beautiful and now in my reveries it is even better.

Why are the matter of love and travel considered romantic?

- Though they may not last, we, through the experience, come to the closet to what it means to be alive: to be filled with joy, to feel vulnerable, to find roots, to be brave enough to break away. To take and to give, to be animated or to be still -  In the moment, an ephemeral glare of the sun into your eyes, or a lover's touch, that one glimpse of eternity, breath of ecstasy - nothing would ever

feel more universal, dreamy, but real.

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In the mood

In a blink of the eye we floated from April to July. I am now reborn; soaking up the sun, swimming in the ponds (supremely cold, but invigorating), reading books, waking up to humming jazz and wild landscapes (and sometimes on a chilled summer's night we wore a woollen jumper & started a fire), slowly and steadily falling in love. I am never so sure before - this is really all I need. An inner joy and peace that stays, a skirt that floats like butterfly while I bike.

In summer, I -
wear: either a white or breton shirt, navy skirt, chestnut brown leather loafters, a singular dainty gold bracelet
listen to: the sound of the sea, various Spotify playlists, Louis Armstrong Five
read: Roger Deakin's Waterlog, Miranda July (but most of the time I am just lazily watching le tour de france)

look forward to: travelling and trekking in Northern Vietnam, wearing a straw hat and eat pho at dusk

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The Bachelor Girl

We were having bacon and pancakes at the Breakfast Club Spitalfield when my friend asked me - 'How would you describe your style?' Without a hint of hesitation I blurted -

em, a boyish girl who wears skirts?

Only until this evening I realised this is probably the singular, most succinct sentence that summarises what I wear/like as of late, be it the reliable combo of breton tee + skirt + top knot, or shirt + black trousers + braids (for short-medium hair), plus my good old Masculin Féminin tote. There is a certain liberation in mixing anything in the wardrobe and the permutation would just work together (although there is always room for a yet-to-be-found pleated skirt and tweed jacket). For me, the way you dress is not only an important facet of self-representation, it is also a manifestation of your aesthetics and how comfortable and at peace you are with yourself. I like to evolve and be influenced every day by more unlikely sources of fashion inspiration such as art, literature, music and nature; and what matters to me the most will always be simplicity, authenticity and consistency.

All images from woolsilk.

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In Praise of Mornings

We plan, we toil, we suffer – in the hope of what? A camel load of idols' eyes? The title deeds of Radio City? The empire of Asia? A trip to the moon? No, no, no, no. Simply to wake up just in time to smell coffee and bacon and eggs.

- J. B. Priestley

Why wake up late, when you can get up early - when the sexiest meal of the day is breakfast? In the week days I am so used to waking up early that during weekends, I find myself wide awake no later than 8:30am - Today at nine o'clock I dipped my toes in the local swimming pool with the water still and unrippled, followed by a quick shower, breakfast (of scrambled eggs and assam tea) and a stroll around the empty streets, walking among quiet passages and snow flurries. I tasted idleness at its best, before the city awakes with its quickened breaths and fury and pallor. 

- Slow baby slow, because you can afford to, because you have a whole afternoon and night to look forward to.

//Top five places in London for breakfast/brunch:

• Lantana - scrambled eggs (I heart eggs) with sourdough bread, accompanied by the Observer
• Local greasy spoon - full English breakfast (fried bread, roasted tomato drowned in a sea of baked beans, mug-full of tea)
• The Little Bread Pedlar - stack of toasts and French butter, black Monmouth coffee (bring your own grapefruit)
• Bistrotheque - fluffy pancakes with blueberry compote and crème fraîche
• The Delaunay - freshly squeezed juice, eating muesli with a silver spoon - and less busy than its sister restaurant near the Ritz

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Overheard on the radio -

"God exists in this world, like poetry in poems. You have to read into it, and your understanding of it matures and deepens with age."

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Winter is...

warm. If you stay indoor and curl up in-between the duvets with a cup of hojicha tea and your feet up, or if you keep walking and treading on the road, in the woods, through the rows of stars.

In winter, I -
wear: thick tights, hats, mittens, a Mulberry woolen scarf in the colour of midnight claret
listen to: She & Him Christmas album, Mumford & Sons, my own ukelele playing
read: Paul Auster's Winter Journal, Robert Macfarlane's The Old Ways: A Journey on foot, Raymond Chandler's The Big Sleep
want: nothing - I have no wish list but only wish for peace & quiet & thankfulness and love in my heart.

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Days

What are days for?

Days are where we live.   

They come, they wake us   

Time and time over.

They are to be happy in:   

Where can we live but days?

Ah, solving that question

Brings the priest and the doctor   

In their long coats

Running over the fields.

- Philip Larkin

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Summer (in London, if I must put caption under each picture) is - seeing the RA summer exhibition and Edvard Munch, reading with sunglasses on, iced white wine on Charlotte Street, walking amidst wild flowers, having very late brunch at Lantana. 

Or,

summer is strolling at your own pace, getting half drunk and fully happy already at mid-day, humming to the sound of the rain, savouring each unphotographable moments.

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Bubbly

* from Park&Cube // Le Fur Coat // A Lovely Being // marie-acidrain //Freunde von Freunden

'I only drink Champagne when I'm happy, 

and when I'm sad. sometimes I drink it when I'm alone. 

when I have company, I consider it obligatory. 

I trifle with it if I am not hungry and drink it when I am. 

otherwise I never touch it - unless I'm thirsty.'

- Lily Bollinger

Oh yes
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Afloat

You must live in the present, launch yourself on every wave, find your eternity in each moment. 

- Henry David Thoreau

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Cinematic Writing IX

szamil

APRIL is the cruellest month, breeding

Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing

Memory and desire, stirring

Dull roots with spring rain.

...

She turns and looks a moment in the glass,

Hardly aware of her departed lover;

Her brain allows one half-formed thought to pass:

“Well now that’s done: and I’m glad it’s over.”

When lovely woman stoops to folly and

Paces about her room again, alone,

She smoothes her hair with automatic hand,

And puts a record on the gramophone.

- T. S. Eliot, The Waste Land

Hop Nop

My Ode to Jean-Luc Godard II tote from I Miss You Already, with the usual cluster // Trinity Hall, Cambridge // Coffee, book and no cigarette at Notes Covent Garden // First blossom // 'Paris is always a good idea' - Audrey Hepburn

Why is spring always so elusive?

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