Write what they won't say


It feels as though I never left.

The last two years feel like a dream, I feel as though I’ve been asleep.

Some days I don’t want to close my eyes, I want to live in my reality and some days… I can’t wait to fall back into my dreams.

I want to be here as much as I want to be there.

But, I am here.

In the place I used to call home, completely conscious, 100% aware, and guess what… London learnt to shine through the cold air.

M x


With love, Australia

I’m in a place where the sun shines even when it rains…

I’m in a place where a mob of kangaroos passing my window at dusk will never, never be normal…

A place where being alone brings as much happiness as when surrounded by laughter…

Where fear no longer controls me and I have no place for worries.

Right here, amongst the Shiraz vines… a place where I’ve come to love.

I am in a place where I can just be… I want to remember this time in my life… When I travelled across the world at 23, young, wild and completely free.


M x

If you could choose your race/nationality what would it be and why?

So, I had to write this for someones new book and loved doing it so much that I thought I’d post it and ask everyone else the same question…

Start with your race/nationality then… If you could choose your nationality/ race, what would you choose and why? You won’t be judged.

I am a 23-year old Black British female.

If I could choose my race/nationality… well, I would choose to be a Black British female. I have travelled to poverty-ridden villages and resided in cosmopolitan cities, seen first hand what it’s like to be an Australian, American… to be Asian or Caucasian. Being Black and being British may not be perfect, but it’s good enough for me.

I would choose to be Black and British because we are privileged…yes; there is racism, crime and a pretty lousy political system, but nowhere near as violent and cruel as other places in the world. Of course, I’m not blind to the fact that in Britain, some people are selfish and unwelcoming, they use nasty words to describe immigrants, Asians, black people, white people, Americans, Africans and every other person that isn’t British. However, Being called the N word doesn’t even come close to the phrases I’ve heard for people of other races. It is no comparison to the life children in Laos have to live… Turkish children, Cambodian and all the other countries that have areas with severe poverty.

I would be called every name under the sun if it meant children didn’t have to drink dirty water, sell stolen goods just to have enough money to buy one meal.


I want to be British, because, I may not be able to do it alone but I and every other British person have the education and facilities to contribute towards making a difference. Whether it is as small as, being a pen pal to a boy from a small town in France to help him perfect his English or volunteering in Ghana to provide fresh water everywhere. We can do it

I am from a city full of culture, colour, a place where I’m not afraid of starving; I’m not afraid of consistent racist remarks or people staring because I’m of a different race. I’ve walked the streets of Cambodia, where I felt completely out-of-place… I can walk the streets in Britain and not have hundred of people staring right into my face.

When I was a child, I’d have answered this question completely differently… I’d have said, I want to be an American and I want to be Caucasian, why? Because, I wanted smooth hair that didn’t turn into an Afro, that didn’t tangle, and I wanted to be pale, because, I didn’t want to be associated with the slave trade and the mud beneath me. I wanted to be an American because they were portrayed to be so excitable, so fun, young, wild and free. As I grew up all my Caucasian friends wanted to tan and my views on being an American were tainted by the media with devastating crime and obesity, they ruined my American dream.

I now know, that I didn’t know then, that… being black, just the same as being Caucasian or of any other race… shows history and depth. I’m happy to be associated with the slave trade, to be questioned if my parents or grandparents were slaves… neither were, but the conversation gives opportunity for each person involved to learn and be taught. I know that the definition of an American, isn’t obesity and crime… I know these things because I am British and being British has given me the opportunity to go to good schools, learn about the world, learn about the history of my ancestors, the history of my friends ancestors and even to understand that sometimes the media talks a whole lot of rubbish.

Right now, I live in Australia… where if you’re black, why then you must be African… no; well then you must be American. British? No way, it’s not possible. In rural Australia, many, but not all people are naïve, uneducated; they haven’t explored their own country let alone the world, I’ve met people who haven’t left their small country town… people who don’t own a passport… who haven’t opened a book about history, ever met a person of colour or a person who is bilingual. I’m not saying it’s something to be ashamed of, but, yes, I believe it’s bad. How can you exist in a world you know nothing about?

I had a passport before I was 2 years old, I’d been out of Europe by the time I was 3 and been across the ocean before I was 23. I truly believe that I’ve had these opportunities because being British is about uniting, learning and accepting. How could I do any of these things if I spent my whole life sheltered in my small town in London?

I straight away knew my answer to this question… then I began to discuss with family and friends, which made me question what it would be like to a Hispanic girl, or an aboriginal from the tiny island of Torres strait. I’d love to experience other races and nationalities and embody them for a period of time but I couldn’t choose to be something else.

How can I choose to change my nationality and race to a Chinese girl, who has been thrown on the streets just for being a girl, who in many countries can only get a job on a farm, as a kitchen hand or in a factory because my English isn’t satisfactory?

How can I choose to change my nationality to a German girl, who is blessed with the opportunity to learn languages and study abroad?

British, Black… no it’s not the best, but when there are people like the Chinese girl who deserves better, and people like the German girl who have way more than needed, I of course choose to be me… because I’m very, very lucky.

M x


Wet t-shirts & white jeans

“She did the splits, in white jeans and a bloody black thong.”

Wet Wednesdays at Scary Canaries, Sydneys backpackers finest.

Once upon a time, when I was very very intoxicated and very much so, still caught up in the year of YES, I said YES to taking part in the wet t-shirt competition at Scary Canaries… To be fair, I was about the only girl on stage holding onto a smidgen of their dignity by keeping my top on.

However, it happened, I did it and that’s that.

A year later, we returned to the backpacker bar, on a Wednesday. A simple in/out mission, have a quick dance and duck out.

When the guys in the queue say “I’m 18 and just got my braces off” you know you’re too old to be there.

However, we were going to cut shapes on the dance floor no matter what…

It gets to that time of the night when they’ve played ‘Sorry’ three times already, and they start remixing tunes from high school musical…go home girls just go home…then, the list comes around to sign up for the wet t-shirt competition. No way am I doing it again… but there’s no harm in being an observer.

Watching the girls who are just about legal to be there, get their tits out, dirty dance to drake and do the bloody splits in white jeans, whilst grinding in the massive puddle on the stage was… eye-opening. I cannot believe I ever went up on that stage, I was ashamed and so so embarrassed for the girls getting bet on like dogs.

It’s disgusting… and so so degrading. The guys took so much pleasure in watching these young girls drown in buckets of water… their make-up running down their faces, all for 100 bucks.

It’s a stupid competition anyway… everyones t-shirt is just as wet as the next girl… really should be called, ‘who can get the most naked for money‘.

Life is totally all about experiences, being young, wild and free and so be it if you want to be nude in my opinion.

I love doing crazy shit… however I feel so terrible for contributing and encouraging this event. It’s actually not fun at all…and being up there was just as bad as watching.

young wild n free

Spending the rest of the night drenched, is NOT the one, BUT, each to their own , you win 100 bucks, thats almost a week in a hostel.




Winter on the Vineyard

Today, in the Hunter Valley there is a little more than a sun shower over the vineyards. It’s pissing it down… it’s grey, the rain is running fast and the vines are drowning. I think to myself… why am I here, why not just go home?

I miss home everyday…

I miss my family

my friends

I miss getting the tube

I miss my clothes

I miss my shoes

I miss the typical road girls in their air max 90s and zip up wind breakers.

I miss my oyster card.

I miss the old men in the pub who are still holding onto the cockney rhyming slang.

I miss the constant strike of everything.

I miss it all, and I’m sorry, I’m sorry East London for saying you’re cold, because that’s not your fault, England made you that way. However, you are cold, you’re loud, you’re always rushing.

But here… On a very rare, rainy winters day in the Valley a Kangaroo hops past my office door, and then another.. and another.

On a rainy day here, there are these wild animals to brighten up a dull day.

In England… at home, the rain enhances the dirty fish tank smell that oozes through the streets and clings to your damp clothes.

The wildest animal you’ll see is a soggy rat running for shelter, most likely in your kitchen cupboard.

So for everyone who asks, why don’t I just come home… I ask myself everyday why and I finally have an answer.

Rainy days here are bright days and bright days are even brighter. 

I’ll come home when London learns to shine in winter.

M x

It’s just Eczema.

…If you have eczema read my experience 🙂

…If you don’t, read anyway and learn about how it affects people differently, in my case it made me a little cray.

To everyone who said my skin looks, disgusting, weird, ugly and every other ‘compliment’ I received.

Thank you.

Thank you because you made me realise how ignorant and uneducated people are when it comes to eczema. You encouraged me to man up and write this blog about my flare up and post the photos of how ‘ugly‘ my skin was.

Eczema; is a skin condition, a medical condition in which patches of skin become rough and inflamed with blisters which cause itching and bleeding. The literal definition of eczema.

My definition includes all of the technical stuff and more… Eczema ; is  a condition that not only affects your appearance but for some it tortures the mind. It completely consumes your being, taking over one piece of you at a time. It can be manageable until it’s infected, until you get a flare up… then it’s got you. 

Walking through any grassy area became a battle, a race to the end, my mind would be telling me to satisfy the addictive itch and I would, I would scratch so hard that I would shed blood. Going to bed at night became a game between my sleepy eyes and my burning skin that wouldn’t let me rest.

Almost two years ago now I experienced the worst flare up of my life so far. It’s taken me this long to post this as I’ve been embarrassed to share the photos of what was. I haven’t wanted people to call me a lepa or be disgusted. BUT, now I couldn’t give a monkeys, I want other people with eczema to know that we are more than the skin we wear and screw you to anyone who has a problem with it.

It’s Just Eczema.

So here it is… my skin at the time of my flare.

…This looks bad, and for my personal experience with eczema was bad. However, some people put up with this every single day… the dry tight skin, the itch that you can’t say no too. Their brave. They tap into something somehow that allows them to not spend everyday dwelling on the inconvenience that eczema can be.

Excuse my photography! 

** I only have a few photos of my back and legs, however what you see here was also covering my arms and torso, with small patches on my cheeks, forehead, occasionally on my lips and near my eyes.

Again… I’m not a photographer

When I took my initial visit to the doctors she claimed ‘she couldn’t see anything’ and ‘she’s never seen eczema on brown skin before’. I was told to use E45 and sent on my way.

TIP: E45, works wonders for some people, however this is a water based cream which isn’t too great when eczema is involved. When using any creams make sure you have clean hands or use an applicator that is clean. Once dirty hands get into the pot you risk infection.

After this visit, I went back three times before having to beg for an appointment with a dermatologists, which I unfortunately couldn’t be seen for three months.

I started to take things into my own hands and tried and tested some products giving each time: Prescribed moisturizer ( E45, Aqueous, Dipro base), Topical steroids, sea water, olive oil, Argan oil, coconut oil, vaseline, propolis cream, propolis tablets, GF diet, food diaries, no alcohol, more alcohol and still I was in the same position.

Graduation Day

Graduation quickly approached and I bought a dress for the occasion. I then returned the dress a week before the date because I was getting so nervous about people noticing my legs. So on a very sunny day in Bristol I wore a black jumpsuit that covered my embarrassment. That night, I came home in painful tears, I wanted nothing more than to rip my skin apart and burn away the itch with boiled water. I tried, I took a hot shower, so hot that my sore skin rose and I was painted in risen bumps.

TIP: Please, please don’t do this. I took boiling hot showers a lot during this flare up as it gave me a few minutes of relief, but the aftermath is horrible and painful. Lukewarm, short showers all the way.

I was sharing a room with my friend at the time and as I entered the room in painful tears with my towel hanging off me, she told me to stop crying, smothered me in Argan oil at the time and put on my cotton gloves.

Graduation day 


Mini miracle

A week after graduation we went on a family holiday to Turkey, I had the best time, but I cried every single day.

I cried because I was itchy.

I cried because my skin was flaking.

I cried because people were staring and making comments.

I cried because I was bleeding.

I cried because I was left out of trips with my sisters and mum, because I couldn’t use the products or be in that environment.

My sister would tell me of her nights as a restraining officer as she’d hold my hands down to stop me from viciously scratching in my sleep.

I would wake every morning and have to sweep my dead skin from the bed after a full night of clawing away at my eczema.

I started to cut my nails so low that all that was left was flesh. I found other ways to answer to the itch… hair combs, sharp nail files, anything and everything with a sharp edge just to satisfy that indescribable itch which is completely impossible to ignore.

The penultimate day in Turkey, my mum stumbled across a pharmacy who claimed they had something special coming in. Which they did, Coresatin. Within two days of using this product all the dead and infected skin had fallen away. I had no itch, no sores, no blisters, it was all gone.


  After the mini miracle… clear pigmentation but not risen and bumpy. 

Though it did come back in full force a week or two later, I still use this product when I have small flare ups as it removes infection without the use of topical steroids.

I wish I could say I’ve found a cure, but I haven’t, of course  I haven’t.

But right now, I’m eczema free… I’m not claiming the following reasons are why, but I’d like to think they are, as there ain’t nothing wrong with a little hope 😉 :

Don’t stress… the worst thing you can.

Be calm, take up yoga, meditation, drawing or music… whatever relaxes you.

Focus on something other than how to keep your eczema away… something amazing, interesting, creative.

EAT CLEAN, I’m not saying never eat the cake, because I love cake, I love donuts, pizza, but in moderation… try gluten-free, this worked well for me but it was hard to keep up with. Try a food diary, drink less alcohol, cut out dairy…options.

Wear loose clothing, made from nice soft materials… don’t suffocate your skin in skinny jeans all the time.

Topical steroids do not kill infection. They hide it. Have you noticed how your eczema comes back only a few days after using the steroids, you can’t use them long-term as they often thin the skin.

Take holidays because the sun and sea are good for you.

Most of all, don’t let it take over you, don’t be embarrassed… I’m more embarrassed now then at the time because its normal to have this condition.


M x


I blame Adam and Eve…

I’ve not written a blog post in a good couple of months because I’ve just not felt inspired by anything, who would have thought Kimmy K’s nude would be what got me going again…

Kims comeback

I LOVED it personally. However, cannot believe how much negative attention a nude photo received, baring in mind its technically speaking not a nude as shes censored her boobs and lady garden.
Randoms and celebrities all put their two pence in, labelling her a bad role model and some idiot even said she is “the most vile person on earth”. I dunno about you but I hardly think being famous for nothing and having balls makes you the most vile person on earth?!
So yeah she over bullshitted about female empowerment and her reasoning behind the photo, but so what… we all sometimes talk a little shit to make ourselves look good. My personal favourite is telling employers for jobs that require an early start that I’m a morning person… I’m not, I can’t wake up early to save my life but, like Kimmy K you gotta talk abit of rubbish to LOOK GOOD.
In her come back message she goes on about why people care what others do and literally, yeah, if you cant be positive and say,

“Hey Kim, go you for having a great body after carrying a whole small person for 9 months”

then keep your negative Nancy comments to yourself. I don’t see why publically humiliating her is nessceary???

Some losers of course reffered to her sex tape with Ray-J, you know the singer who “hit it first“… which again, just another example of jealousy getting the better of people. She was in a relationship with a man and wanted to make a naughty video, oopsie that it ended up in the hands of the whole of social media but, isit really that terrible to experiement with your partner?

You may wonder why I’m so passionate about this topic, especially when I’ve never been a fan of the Kardashians… but really I’m just fed up of people calling someones mother a slut when there are much worse people out there in the world that could do with a word or two.
Don’t get me wrong I totally understand she is in the public eye and a lot of young girls look up to her. So of course she was flooded with role model comments and one hundred percent I wouldn’t want or encourage my little cousins to get their kit off for likes. However, I wouldn’t want them to think that if a woman or a girl chooses to do so that they have the right to call them a slut, a whore, call her fat or fake. I think young girls should also understand that their  body is theirs and they can do with it what they so please.

Nudity isn’t a sin. 

We were born naked, as children we ran around public parks with no undies on, we’ve been told that having your ‘privates’ out is wrong, but why? It doesn’t mean it actually is. Women walk around the changing room naked and I’m sure men do too, nudies enjoy nude cycles and nudist beaches without the fear being shamed. Let people be. 

On a much lighter note, the best thing to come out of all this drama has got to be the huge nude paintings in Melbourne by lushsux and all the legends who have posed naked on Sniders Lane. Kim and all those nude posers are just people who aren’t afraid to say f*** you boring society. Stop being prudes, be NUDE.
A little message to all the horrible girls with foul mouths, we will never be respected as girls and women if you all negatively call eachother sluts and whores. That just makes it 100 percent okay for men to do it without you all complaining. Lets stick together, whether it be just keeping our opinons to ourselves or praising eachother for being body confident and not being the same as every other mum on wysteria lane.


M x


Response: 21st Century Dating Is Easier And More Fun

Words by: Maria Odufuye Romance makes me feel uncomfortably sick but I love dates so long as candles aren’t involved. My guilty pleasure is watching ‘The Bachelor’ and revamping m…

Source: Response: 21st Century Dating Is Easier And More Fun

3 countries in 3 weeks


After having moved away from home at 18 to live in Bristol for 3 and a half years, jetting off to the other side of the world for ten months and traveling Thailand with my beloved girl scouts, I was about to embark on a very different journey.
I haven’t lived with or spent more than a few days alone with my mum in 5 years and we were about to spend 3 weeks traveling SE Asia together. We can be quite similar in personality for example; we’re both very creative, enjoy nature, love to shop, we share an interest in culture and heritage over sitting in a towns token Irish pub (likely to be called O’briens) and at the end of the day (often also at the beginning of the day) I can sit down with my mum and enjoy unlimited beverages. So it’s safe to say I wasn’t worried at all about backpacking through Asia with my old gal. I say old, however people thought we were sisters on multiple occasions!

The journey…

Cece met me in Bangkok where upon her arrival I burst into tears as she was two hours late. With my very wild imagination I was picturing the Thai mafia taking her hostage. We started the adventure off with dinner and drinks on the famous Khao San road, where a furry creature ran across my mum’s feet, a rat the size of a cat. The following day my friends from uni joined us. As we were accidentally staying in one of Bangkok’s famous red light districts, Silom, we spent the second night strolling the streets of Patpong. However, we did find a very civilised bar where we all caught up over tequila and classic ‘traveling Thailand bev’ Changs. My mum even got a free eyebrow treatment by one of the local ladyboys. We had a very interesting walk home as we tried to find our hotel, whilst trying to get every piece of our drunk food into our mouths and avoid Bangkoks scattering city dwellers. After three days of temples, the floating market and everyday Khao San road, we got on the sleeper train to the lazy city, Laos.

Laos; Vientiane, Vang Vieng and Luang Prabang…

After a blissful nights sleep for moi and a not so great sleep for my mum, we were awoken by the train crew. They aggressively and forcefully banged on the our cell doors as they shouted at us to wake the fuck up.
Okay I may be dramatising the scene a bit, but the majority is true.


As we piled off the train in Non Kai, we were summoned to a tiny van with only 7 passenger seats and 10 passengers piling there bags into the back. The driver insisted there was enough room to squeeze us all in, so we practically sat on strangers laps for the rest of the journey to Vientiane. Reviews describe Vientiane as having a very French esk feel to it. My mum and I thought of it as a ghost town, we visited temples and strolled down the Mekong river seeing hardly anyone en route. The atmosphere picked up in the evening, with a night market and live bands playing to the silent flow of the Mekong, beautiful hey? We thought it was only right to indulge in a turmeric facial to end the night.

image2Vang Vieng…

I think my mum was born to be a backpacker
Thankfully a very spacious bus came to pick us up and I even got upgraded to front seat. Which turns out not so great when the driver plays dodgems with every vehicle on the road.

If you’ve traveled with me you’ll know that conversations on a long journey are a no no. I had Biebs blaring within the first few minutes of the drive.

My mum on the other hand spent the whole, and I mean every minute of the journey (because I could hear them through my tunes) chatting to a lady we’d met in the lobby. As we got off the bus in Vang Vieng my mum was exchanging numbers and organising our evening of dinner and drinks.

Two of the very many friends we made on the adventure. We in fact did meet them for dinner and drinks and had a fantastic night, which ended in a bar where you receive free shots with every drink and can order ICE and ketamine from the menu!?

We stayed at an eco lodge which was right on the river, way out of town, local people and cows were our only company. This was by far was my favourite accommodation and upon arrival there was a party by the river as the locals had come for their Sunday sesh. We strolled through the back paths and stumbled upon very basic local houses with no furniture, sat next to mansions with multiple cars in the driveway. Ladies would come and wash their clothes in the river as their children would wash their bodies. Now I’m writing it, I love it even more, it was far from the rush of BKK and didn’t have the silence like the daytime in Vientiane. Children would be laughing, parents taking their babies for their first swim in the river and the local musician was singing a ballard for his friends and family. In fact I wish we stayed longer cause it was so gorgeous!

However, “We hoped off a plane at LAX with the dream and…” had to be done, it was in my head. Less glamorous, we hoped on a 3 hour late night bus too Luang Prabang…

Luang Prabang…

5 hours later we arrived in Luang Prabang at 5am, just in time to see the monks receive their offerings at 6am. We couldn’t check in until the afternoon so we dumped our bags and waited for the monks. Now I have mixed feelings about this as there were NO LOCAL PEOPLE, just tourists. The only locals were the ones selling ‘offerings’, which were bags of cooked rice and cereal bars. As the monks arrived many tourists surrounded them with their large cameras. Myself, my mum and two new friends my mum had made (of course), respectively just spectated. We did buy offerings, but it didn’t feel right…
1. There wasn’t enough to go around.
2. It wasn’t proper food.
3. We were forced into purchasing.
I’m glad we experienced it and it did intrigue me and encouraged me to learn more about Buddhism. However I think it has become a tourist attraction, an opportunity for people to make money out of something that is meant to be sacred.

Following this it was only 7am so we set off to explore what Luang Prabang had to offer. Stumbling across colourful food markets with the dusky background of the early morning dew. We discovered very European streets, temples, a theatre and a bar overlooking the river. Go to Utopia bar, restaurant and take a yoga class in the very chilled outdoor surroundings.

The following day we set off early for our morning cycle ride to the waterfall Tad sei. My mum insisted on having a pretty bike instead of a more practical mountain bike. Twenty minutes into this decision I strongly believe she regretted it as she dragged her bike up the rocky roads. After passing through a small village, a pineapple plantation, a weaving factory and a small forest trek, we finally arrived at the waterfall. It was smaller than expected but still aesthetically pleasing, we had a swim in the very cold waters before we set off again. As we strolled back to base my mum spotted her first elephant playing in the water and splashing the passerbys (in this case, US!). The return journey was more blissful as the wind was blowing and we barely had to cycle as we simply glided downhill. Sore and sweaty we washed up and headed to the market for a bloody delicious buffet. You have to go to this buffet, it’s a very long alley with many stalls all pretty much serving the same thing, so much variety and so damn cheap! The next morning we said farewell to Laos and got on a plane to Siem Reap, Cambodia.

FullSizeRenderSiem Reap…

We rocked up to our hotel early afternoon and upon arrival was told the toilet was broken and we will be upgraded to the bigger, better hotel. Don’t mind if you do sir. 🙂

They drove us to our new pad and we went straight for some poolside cocktails, because what else can you do after flight. We spent the evening strolling the streets and markets of course, as you can never see too many night markets. We found ourselves on pub street where we just embraced the atmosphere whilst picking ourselves up a few bits and bobs from the stalls.

The following morning we were up early for our amazing buffet breakfast, which by far was the best of all the hotels we’d stayed in. We then jumped in our Tuk Tuk for our temple tour of; Angkor Wat and Angkor Thom. I found Angkor Wat impressive, however Angkor Thom (the Angela jolie, as the locals call it) was more up my street. The trees and potential of getting lost in the forestry is what I loved most. We were well and truly templed out by the time we were done and I wanted to get out of tourist central as the staring was sending me into a very dark place! I found that if your not Asian you will get stared at, people will take photos without asking, they’ll point and some will even laugh at you for being different to them. A little bit on this matter as in Cambodia, myself and my mum found it a massive problem and very uncomfortable. I’ve been to countries before were being brown skinned isn’t the norm, for example in Turkey on multiple occasions myself and my sister’s were asked for photos and told how amazing our skin is. However in Cambodia I felt intimated, the difference in colour wasn’t intriguing but they found it funny and alien. This behaviour kind of tainted my view on Cambodia as every time I stepped out of the hotel I was the object of laughter. However this didn’t stop us from exploring Phnom Pehn!

Phnom Penh…

We only managed to spend one full day here as the main stop was to see the killing fields. The afternoon we arrived we as usual strolled around checking out what was on offer, we visited the palace and surroundings. We had a yucky dinner in a random restaurant opposite the river so treated ourselves to some ciders to make up for it.

The next day we went to the killing fields, our tuk tuck driver however stopped off at all the monuments along the way informing us of their history which was a nice added extra. The killing fields was an experience I won’t forget, I was eager to go as I knew nothing of the history and wanted to learn about it. I highly recommend this. You are given headphones and follow the numbers, including breaks where you can sit and listen to real life stories. As we strolled around we were faced with strewn clothes, friendship bracelets and stories buried into the trees. This experience struck up an interesting discussion between myself and my mum as we learnt of the children’s brains being smashed against the trees, by selfish savages or by people who were protecting their families?

After an emotional day we headed back and had a delicious salmon dinner, with red wine, ready to embark on the final part of the adventure, time to relax…IMG_3934Koh Chang…

We made it to Koh Chang after 10 hours worth of driving, queuing, boats and two tuk tuks. Considering my mum grew up in Nigeria and loves nature walks, I’ve never seen a woman so scared of a rather large lizard in the bathroom. We left Mr lizard in our room while we went on a food hunt.

Fortunately we met an old couple on the way and they took us to a very local restaurant with a bubbly old thai lady. We ate and they then offered to show us their hotel. I personally thought this was dodgy from the minute they offered, especially as when we arrived the hotel was not as perfect as they portrayed! The husband offered us a glass of wine, my mum of course never turns down a glass of red. However, I dunno who I learnt from but I politely declined the beverage from the STRANGER. He poured me a glass anyway which I again politely refused and then made up a story of how red wine disagrees with me. Of course I was being dramatic and they weren’t trying to invite us for a gang bang but better be safe than sorry!

The next morning we asked our friendly ladyboy friend Mae if we could swap rooms and she placed us in paradise, we had a gorgeous balcony with the perfect view of the pool and comfortable lounging mats. We headed off to white sands beach for the day where we indulged in cocktails and beer, sun worshipping and sea volleyball with large German men. I personally wouldn’t say white sands beach is horrible but it wasn’t the best beach on the island.

We had a very relaxing day on day two, lounging by the pool all morning, sipping wine on our balcony before going for a stroll to coconut beach. I think this beach was more for the elderly as all I was seeing was … elderly. It was quite calm and had a nice scenic view however not much atmosphere.

We took a long trip to heaven on our final day. Lonely beach was a fantastic recommendation as it was both mine and my mum’s favourite beach on the island. It took a while to get there, but it was a bloody good drive, and when we arrived it was worth it. We had to climb a very make shift bridge to actually get on the beach but it led to a secluded little reggae bar. We found our spot and spent the next few hours immersed in reggae, our books, a chang, the sun and the sea. We eventually got up and walked the rest of the beach which had just enough people, and just enough music to create the perfect atmosphere. Please go here.

The night got a bit crazy when we turnt up a Chang’s to get inked. My mum designed my tattoo and Chang brought it to life. He kept telling me how much it’ll hurt and I insisted it’ll hurt no more than my other rib tattoo, man was I wrong. I was in a lot of pain, mainly as he proceeded drag the needles through the flabbier bits of skin. But I was more than happy with the final product and went for a romantic celebratory sea view ( quite literally, as the table was on the sand and the sea was just inches away) dinner and cocktails.
* Cocktails, one of the things I loved about traveling SE asia is that we can afford to drink cocktails everynight, because they are so damn cheap.

image1Bye bye mummy in Bangkok…

We spent our last day together in Bangkok’s MBK shopping centre

“I’m in heaven, I’m in heaven with youuu”.

It was SO nice to be back in a city, with a very large shopping centre. As our feet started to hurt and the the time ticked away, we went to get ready for the final feast.

I wish more than anything that I could remember the name of this place, but I can’t. We went to a massive and extravagant resort near the main airport in BKK, it was the most over the top place I have ever seen. I mean they went all out, a live band, the tables in the restaurant spread across into the man made lake, clocks and horse statues everywhere! And you’ll never guess what they’d imported to the lake… fucking swans. Whilst I was trying to enjoy my salmon Caesar salad and my signature side of fries I was distracted by the romance in the air and the fucking SWANS. Thank goodness it started to rain and we were moved inside, moved to a table for about ten people for the two of us! We reminisced over our journey and laughed at our surroundings before heading back.

4am and she was off 😦 

Thank you Cece for being the best travel buddy, photographer, tattoo drawer, wing woman and Mum ever!

See you next year babes.
M x

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