#i can't ride the bus without drinking first. i can't do my JOB without drinking first. i can't even call my friends without drinking first

[lakemichigans]

if antidepressants made me feel the way alcohol makes me feel the world would be a better place lol

[koskimakiforsberg]

Its wednesday night, july, the heatwaves been and gone, its back to gray skies and humid rain, the heat may return in late august or it may be another year till we see the sun again. For two unbearable weeks, the city comes to a standstill, heat so wet you can taste it in the air, the mix of water particles in the air, sweat and grease creates a foul smelling cocktail, dressed with petrol fumes and the everpresent stench of piss and rubbish that seems unbudgeable even in the coldest months. Heat here is unbearable, the sun is hardly present for it hidden under a duvet of industrial clouds, the buildings retain the heat, cooking us alive within their thick stone, lobsters being boiled in their own shells, only redder. I remember a train ride, wall to wall bodies, sticky, blotchy, the colour of curdled milk, perhaps it was the dense soggy heat bubble on the carriage or the pure exhaustion of having finished one job only to be venturing to another, but on that midsummer day, i passed out on public transport in the midday sun.

Its been 24hrs since I was last at work. I'm twitchy, uncomfortable, and can't seem to sit still. Days off are easy, see your friends, read a book, smoke…a lot. It's the nights. When you train your body to withstand a certain level of labour, you become accustomed to a push of adrenaline at the same time most people begin to wind down. I can't sleep like I used to, I pass out, its the only way i know, by either physical or mental exhaustion. Once upon a time, i worked 52 hours a week, twelve hours a shift, night shift. Now i cant seem to handle three days on without having some obtuse side affect to my sleep. When i worked night shift at the warehouse, it was easy, ewe were a team, pushing and building boxes, shovelling shit into containers, wrapping and lifting, moving shit around, then before you know it, its 9am and you’re headed to the bus stop. Now, its just me. Theres no team, theres no boxes, no shit shovelling, just me and toad dressed up a prince aka my glass cleaner with dishwasher soap pumped into it. I work around 14 hours a day, the skin tends to peel off my fingers when the days are too humid, which is often, my back has an untieable knot, my hands crack when i move them and my feet could be mistaken for a man twice my age’s. I used to handle two jobs i can barely function doing the three shifts i do know, ive been sapped of stamina, of care and of any semblance of work ethic, i cut, i mice, i peel, i scrub, i rinse and i go home. The walk to the bus stop, fifteen minutes away feels as if my ankles are seconds away from rolling away down the hill, leaving me with stubs to collapse and bleed into the gravel pavement in front of the hordes and crowds rushing to find the cheapest drink, the quickest high, and the loudest music. Sometimes i can only dream of being swallowed up, consumed by the people passing by, to be taken away to wherever their waves take me, i unfortunately, will always end up at my bus stop waiting for a service that may or may not turn up. The use of personal pronouns make it sound as if this my story, but the experiences i speak of are shared amongst all my peers, coworkers, old friends, neighbours.

My mother talks of her generation migrating to London, the only place with jobs, a flood of glaswegians, headed toward one of the biggest cities in the world to find any semblance of a job, now my generation could only dream of that choice, we can barely afford to live in our own city, nevermind a place like that, we’re goldfish stuck, turning in the same cramped bowl, forced to swallow the same shit day in and day out. Minimum wage joy suckers are our only option, no matter the talent or prowess, the ability or the drive, we all end up bending over backwards serving, cooking or cleaning for the general public.

I dont believe in playing the victim, self pity was booted out of my repertoire pretty soon after my first shift scrubbing dishes for 16 hours, but i do believe in the truth. Thats what this is, the truth. A frank telling of the exploitative, mind numbing, capitalist hellscape of modern hospitality. What may have been an industry driven by love and passion for eating and drinking is now a mainstay of our patriarchal late stage capitalist orwellian nightmare world.

[bemusedlybespectacled]

Ok. Level with me here. Im abt to turn 31. I work for the doj but as an analyst not a lawyer, and i want to go to law school. I just think that like. Im too old and mentally out of shape tbh. My current role is a lot of technical reading and data analysis - a lot of SQL and coding and API managing, not as much examination of substantive policy and im not a part of a lot of those policy driven conversations that the attorneys have. I did manage to score ok on the lsat but i just feel Dumb in a big way and its like. I couldnt break 170 on the lsat so im clearly not some hidden lawyer genius. I make (a very modest) 6 figures now and can keep climbing up the ladder in my current role but i just want to test my mettle and sometimes i think i can do it, but then other time reading about the realities of it im like god could i read 200 pages a night? For 3 years? And absorb it? And can my brain be rewired??? Obvi this is such a personal thing and you dont know me but like have you seen others do it as a 2nd career? In ur experience

I'd say about half my class was people over 30 who were coming into law as second careers. Like, one of my classmates was a nurse, two were teachers, and another one was a compliance guy for a factory? Like OSHA compliance and stuff. Not everyone is K-JD and that's okay.

I got a 161 on my LSAT, which is middling. Unless you're planning to go to Harvard, you don't need a super high LSAT score, and no one cares about your LSAT after you get into law school. I can't speak to the reading thing, because I read ~1k words per minute, so I absolutely would do some of my reading on the half hour bus ride to class. But most people are not me and they get through law school just fine.

Also, okay. There are a couple of major skills that you should either be decently good at already or capable of learning that you will need in law school and in practice.

Analysis. A lot of law school is "thinking like a lawyer," which basically means "take this one really complicated scenario and pull out the important bits and then compare those important bits to the elements of a law to see if they match." This is basically your entire first year. It's kind of like being a doctor: your job is to identify the important bits (fever, cough, sneezing, etc.) and the not important bits (what color their clothes are, whether they have a hangnail) to diagnose the disease (fever + cough + sneezing = cold).

Writing (which includes research!). You have no idea how many actual practicing lawyers I have seen who don't know how to cite a case or what a comma is.* I was a journal editor my 3L year and I actually had to have a "how to write an essay" presentation because so many people didn't know what a thesis statement was or how paragraphs work.

Public speaking. Obviously if you're planning on going into something non-litigation, like contracts, this isn't as important, but you should at least be able to answer questions on the spot without panicking and be able to be understood when speaking.**

If all of those things are things you can do or can learn, great!

IMO, it's perfectly fine to go to law school as a second career if all of the following are true:

You are comfortable enough financially to not be able to work full time for three years. This can mean scholarships/student loans, this can mean having a spouse who works, this can mean having rich parents, but you are not going to be able to hold down a 9-5 and do law school at the same time.

You are okay with basically being in college again. Law school is college except everyone can legally drink. That includes things like extracurriculars, parties, cliques, That One Really Annoying Guy In Your Class, lots of studying and taking tests and writing papers and all that. Also, yes, a lot of people talking about politics.

You've got at least a decent idea of what you want to do when you graduate. It's your second career so you should probably have a firmer grasp on what it is you want and how to get there than someone who's never worked, which includes what classes to take and what extracurriculars you should be in. You might want to throw in some stuff to be well-rounded (especially if you end up changing practice areas***) but having at least some goal is important.

All that said: you don't need to do it just to prove that you can. PLEASE don't do it just to prove that you can. Plenty of extremely intelligent people are not lawyers and there are a lot of lawyers who are total dumbasses. It's a job with a specific skillset, but so are plenty of other jobs. If any of what I just talked about isn't something you think you'd enjoy doing all day, every day, for the rest of your life, YOU DON'T NEED TO, I PROMISE.

* Also, yes, I absolutely make fun of those people in private. There is no greater cure for imposter syndrome than to read something an actual practicing lawyer actually wrote, for realsies, and think, "Well, I can't be the worst lawyer in the world, because at least I don't write like that."

** Look, I have horror stories.

** I did not take any public speaking classes or family law classes in law school and I ended up in family law litigation instead of in nice, litigation-free immigration like I wanted to.

[lionessfics47]

The cringey little PxS 80s AU no one asked for

“You’ve got to try one of these!” Margaery said, pulling Sansa through the food court to the Orange Julius shop, rainbow-layered skirts bouncing as she walked in front.

“Do you have any lemon-flavored drinks?” Sansa asked the cashier hopefully, when it was her turn.

“No, just orange and strawberry,” the young boy replied.

“I’ll take a strawberry then,” Sansa said, checking her swatch watch for the time. Her mother would be livid if she was late for the ladies tea she had scheduled with her Aunt Lysa and it looked more and more like Sansa was going to miss the bus. Margaery took way too long listening to CD samples and endlessly flirting with that mullet-haired Joffrey boy, without any regard to Sansa’s schedule. Sansa had only agreed to the stupid drink in the first place because she was now dying of thirst and nearly shaking from not having eaten anything all day. She needed sugar, fast. 

It wasn’t that she was trying to diet, she’d just gotten caught up trying to please everyone; first Arya - who wanted her to watch her new skateboarding jumps, then Bran - who showed her some new Atari game, and finally Rickon - who wanted her to play with his new Glo worm toy. 

None of this would have been a problem if her mom let her have her own car. Sipping the sweet, strawberry concoction, Sansa looked toward the mall’s entrance hall. Maybe I better find a pay phone to call Robb, she thought. He might still be at home and could give me a ride...

#

“Darn it!” Sansa cursed under her breath, cradling the phone back on the hook.

“Those things are terribly unreliable,” said an accented voice behind her. Sansa jumped and turned to see a handsome, older man standing just a little too close. “If you need a phone, I have one in my car.”

She tried not to gape, it wasn’t polite. “You... have a phone in your car?” The man certainly looked suave enough. Her keen eye caught the flash of his shiny, new Rolex.

“I do,” the man said. “I’d be happy to let you make as many calls as you like. You seem quite distressed.”

“I - yes, but it’s not the pay phone. My brother isn’t home and I was hoping he could give me a ride,” Sansa explained, playing nervously with the colorful jelly bracelets trailing up her wrist.

“Perhaps I can be of assistance in that regard as well,” the older man said. “The car phone is indeed attached to said car,” he quipped, a smile playing on his lips.

Sansa balked at the suggestion. Rolex or no, she didn’t jump into automobiles with strange men. Especially older, experienced-looking ones.  “I’m sorry, mister, but I don’t know you and I’m certainly not going to just get into a car with a stranger.”

“My name is Petyr,” he replied, still smiling. “Petyr Baelish. So now, I’m not a stranger anymore, am I?”

You’re quite presumptuous is what you are, Sansa thought.

“I hardly think knowing your name translates to me knowing you intimately-” Sansa nearly choked at her poor choice of words and rushed to correct, “-I mean knowing you as more than a stranger!”

Mister Petyr Baelish’s eyes seemed to dance at her squirming. “Of course not. Where are my manners? It wouldn’t be appropriate for us to get to know one another under any circumstances less than dinner. I’ll assume the mall food is far beneath the standards of a girl like you. Shall we say Bistro Noir, tomorrow night at eight?”

“I- I-” Sansa was completely confused. How did she go from protesting that she couldn’t get into his car - which was the proper thing to say - to being propositioned for... a date? Which was ten steps past ride-sharing.

“Um, thanks but, I can’t go to dinner with you. I mean, you don’t look like you’re in college anymore.” High school, Sansa wanted to say, but for some reason she bit her tongue. Partially because, well, the man obviously wasn’t in high school but also because she didn’t want him to know she was... so she sort-of implied she was older... 

Petyr cocked a smirk. “No it’s been quite a while since my university days but I’ve been so busy working since then that the time seems to have flown. If dinner is too formal, perhaps you could join me on the job tonight?”  Sansa scrunched up her face. “Why would I join you at work?” “Oh, did I forget to mention? I manage a little Irish band playing the arena this evening. U2? Perhaps you’ve heard of them? If dinner is too formal, maybe a concert would suffice?”  Sansa’s mouth dropped.  “Why don’t you come by backstage tonight? You can bring your friend,” Petyr said, nodding over her shoulder. Sansa turned to see Margaery staring not-too-subtly at them both. “Tell me your name, sweetling, and I’ll make sure to leave two backstage passes at the door.”  “It’s... Sansa,” she breathed, awed. Could he truly be the manager of her favorite band? And how had she neglected to give him her name until then? “Sansa Stark.” 

Petyr’s eyebrows rose and his tongue darted out. It seemed to stop just short of licking his lips. “Stark, you say? Well it’s been a pleasure meeting you Ms. Stark.” “I - yes. It’s been a pleasure, Mr. Baelish,” Sansa replied, cautiously. The man was lying. He couldn’t really be the manager for U2.  “I must be going,” Petyr said. He winked and added, “Come by anytime tonight, Ms. Stark, and I’ll have passes for two people waiting at the door.”  Without another word or a backward glance, he left, and Margaery grabbed Sansa from behind, squealing. 

“Tell me everything, you sly little devil!” she cried. “Who was that sexy older man?” 

“Uh... someone named Petyr Baelish,” Sansa replied, dazed. 

A pause as Margaery’s eyes rounded and then, she shrieked. “Are you kidding me? Do you know who that is? He’s a famous band manager! He’s working with U2 now!” 

Sansa’s mouth dropped and she shook her head in disbelief. “You’re not gonna believe this Marg, but... he invited us backstage tonight.”  “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!” Margaery shouted. “What are we going to wear?”  For some reason, Sansa’s stomach seemed to fill with butterflies -- not in wondering what she’d put on to meet her favorite band... but as she pondered what dress she’d wear to see the mysterious older man that night...

ETA: I forgot the cheesy 80s music!

“Romantic eyes, persuasive lips

The helpless heart just can't resist their power

You know you've got a hold of me

You know you've got me where I want to be

'Cause lover

Like a wave you keep pulling me under

How I'll ever get out of this, I don't know

I just know that there's no way to fight it

Whoa...”

- I Get Weak, Belinda Carlisle

[evanstanwrites]

Who the hell is this? 5

So this chapter is a bit different, first you got 2 sm pics, then a short drabble and then 1 more sm pic.

Much love to my sick co-writer: @pawfect-melody

Tags in reblog

Please don't forget to like coment or reblog

story mode:

I quickly jumped up from my seat and put on some shoes before running out the door. I had to run if I wanted to be there on time. Luckily when I arrived at the bus stop I didn't have to wait that long for the bus. Once seated for the ride I had time to think about James and how everything turned from fucked up to him being able to make me blush with just a few words. I didn't know much about him but I already felt a strong pull towards him, and then there was Alexi, why did he pretend to be my soulmate? why was he so interested in that knife? did he know James? or did he just like knives? but why pretend to be someone's soulmate just to get a knife? he freaked me out and I really hope he just hands over the knife without any problems so I could go back home as fast as possible, but then again with James the questions came up, what the hell does he need all those knives for? Andrews words kept running in my head, all his worries, who was James really? is he dangerous? would he ever hurt me? what kinda job did he do?

I got off the bus and slowly walked to the entrance of the coffee shop. I looked through the window and could already see Alexi sitting at the same table as last time and for some reason he was smiling brightly at nobody in particular. Once I pushed open the door he looked up immediately in my direction and his smile grows even wider.

“hey sweetheart, I already ordered you a drink, it’s the same one as last time.” he says as he sees me walking up to the counter.

well that was sweet of him, he must have paid attention to me that day i don’t even know what he had to drink that day. so I smiled back at him and walked up to him. 

“thank you Alexi that’s really sweet of you.”

“well all for you honey” he said as he held out the chair for me as I went to sit down.

“I don't really have much time ” I lied “ so do you have it with you.”

“yes i have.” he says as he slides a black plastic bag over the table to me.

“I'm sorry I pretended to be your soulmate but I really like you, I liked our last date. why can’t we just forget the whole soulmate thing and move on together?” he smiles at me as he takes a hold of my hand that’s holding the bag with the knife in. 

“please don’t get me wrong, I think you’re a nice guy but I can't ignore the fact that I do have a soulmate that I want to get to know. but maybe we could be friends if you want” 

that was not quite the response he wanted to hear, suddenly everything became quiet and I noticed that the coffee shop had cleared out.

“you really want someone like him as your soulmate? a killer? you don’t know him or who he really is. you gonna throw me away for him?” he spat at me making me speechless at the scene in front of me. Who the hell is this freak, I suddenly started to feel strange and light headed.

“well I’m not gonna let that happen sweetheart. did you really think for one second I would really give that knife back” he growled as he pulled the black bag from out of my hands. I couldn't do anything, all strength had left my body, I couldn’t fight back and all I could think about when I faded into the dark was “would I ever have the chance to meet James in person?”

[bandbacktogether]

A Letter I Can't Send: Edge Of Crazy: Lesson #12

New Post has been published on https://www.bandbacktogether.com/posts/abuse-child-grows-up/

A Letter I Can't Send: Edge Of Crazy: Lesson #12

my dad was, and still is, a serious control freak. he wants everything to go his way, all the time, forever. His need to control + my rebellious streak – any display of love or affection = a seriously fucked up child.

dad,

i’d love to write this on my regular blog, but it would upset the people who know me (and we both know that i shouldn’t upset others, right?), so i’m writing it on the down-low. anyway, this is more for me than for you, because you would never admit to fucking up. mom has put up with a lot of shit to stay married to you for 44 years, but i don’t feel sorry for her because we both know she loves to play the martyr. you two are a textbook case of how not to raise a daughter, and i’ll get to mom in another blog. this one’s for you-

i know that you and mom “had” to get married. i know that you weren’t thrilled about it. i also know that you really wanted a son, but you got me instead. while i made do with the john deere tractor and matching wagon, you and i both know i really wanted the barbie corvette. so barbie and her friends went on lots of hayrides, no biggie. because i loved you.

lesson #1- be happy with whatever i get and don’t be disappointed; any affection i may receive depends on this.

we had fun when i was little. we played football with pillows in the trailer that i grew up in, you pretended to be a horse so i could ride on your back. except you always bucked me off, every time. you’d hide in the bathroom down the narrow hall and call to me and when i came to you, you’d jump out of the dark and scare me. i hated that game, and tried to refuse, but mom would insist i go every time. when mom called that dinner was ready, you’d always hold me back and say that i didn’t get to eat. even though i knew it was a game, i didn’t like it. now that i think about it, your sense of humor was somewhat sadistic. but i didn’t see it that way at the time. because i loved you.

lesson #2 – play along, even when i don’t want to.

when i was small, and did something wrong, you whipped me. you had that fucking collection of belts and always made me pick one. i took a long time choosing, hoping you would change your mind, but you never did. i always chose the red, white, and blue one, because if i had to get whipped, it should be with a pretty belt. and it wasn’t just one or two times. no, you beat my ass. and bare legs. and back. and arms.

i stole some of your coin collection to use in the gum ball machine at the trailer court. it was only a couple of wheat pennies and a dime, but you found me at the gum ball machine and my heart got stuck in my throat. you had a wire coat hanger in your right hand and it was summer and i was wearing shorts. you beat me with that wire hanger all the way to the trailer and that was a long way and i couldn’t run fast because i was only 4. and still, i loved you.

and that time you got mad ’cause mom made chili in july. i was still in a highchair, even though i was 3. i dumped my chili onto the metal tray and you swore at me for wasting food. you grabbed me by my shirt and pulled me out of the highchair. my legs got all cut up because you didn’t take the tray off first. then you threw me on the floor of the living room, and that’s how my favorite top got ripped. then you grabbed a belt from your collection and started beating me and you wouldn’t stop. mom finally pulled you away and threw you out. she let you come back, though. because she needed you more than she loved me. i asked mom to fix my top, but she threw it away instead.

lesson #3 – i am bad, and being hurt by someone i love is acceptable. in fact, i should expect it. i need to learn the art of survival, nobody else is going to protect me.

you have never told me you loved me. never. not once. you have never told me you are proud of me. not ever. not when i graduated from college, or grad school, or got straight a’s, or stuck with my crappy marriage for so long, or left said crappy marriage when it was time. i craved your approval like an addict craves that next hit off the pipe, knowing it will never be enough. and i chased after your approval the way a child chases their shadow, knowing that they will never catch it but always hoping against hope that this time might be different. and i never hated you for it. instead, i hated myself for not being enough.

lesson #4 – it’s not you. it’s me. and it will always be me, even when it’s you.

you had a girlfriend on the side, beginning when i was 5, and ending around the time i went away to college. i know this because i rode the bus with her son in high school. he told me all about how you’d come over on christmas day when he was little. i always wondered why you left after we’d opened presents. you were going to your other family. the one with two boys.

remember that time when i was a senior in high school and my friend viki and i saw your truck at your girlfriend’s house? i rang the doorbell and asked your girlfriend if you were there and i told her who i was. after viki and i drove away, we hid in a driveway and watched you speed past us in your truck, racing towards home. and we laughed because we knew you couldn’t touch me. not unless you wanted to tell mom what you were so pissed about.

mom still doesn’t know about that time i called your girlfriend at work and called her a whore and a bitch and demanded that army picture of you back. the one that mom kept asking about and you kept telling her that you’d left it in your locker at work. only it wasn’t in your locker, was it? it was on your girlfriend’s tv, because her son told me. you brought the picture home that night. that’s when you stopped looking me in the eye and started hating me. because you’d been caught by your daughter. and i began to hate you right back.

and when you suddenly decided not to pay for grad school, i became a stripper to pay for it myself. because i had learned the art of survival.

lesson #5 – i have nothing to lose and it feels good to be a bitch.

you stopped hugging me when i turned 10, and i’m pretty sure it had something to do with my going through puberty. especially when you went on a trip and brought me back that cleveland browns sweatshirt, threw it in my general direction while averting your eyes and said, “here, this will cover up your bumps.” nice way to encourage a young girl to have pride in her body. so i started covering up my bumps, all the time. when i was in my late 20’s, i got rid of my bumps altogether by developing anorexia. then i had to cover up my bones. i began to loathe myself.

lesson #6 – my body is sexual, and sexuality is bad.

the only birthday of mine that you ever came to was when i turned 5. i still remember it because that’s the birthday i got my first barbie. you took her away and wouldn’t give her back. you thought that was funny and i played along so you would stay. to this day, i occasionally find myself playing along, for fear of being abandoned or pissing someone off. when i was 17, you never came to my high school graduation. i know this because when i got home after the ceremony, the ticket i’d left for you on the kitchen table was still there. you were still pissed about me finding you at your girlfriend’s two months prior, and calling her at her job. because i’d stopped playing along.

lesson #7 – when i stop playing along, you will hate me.

in high school, you started to have me followed, instead of sitting me down and asking me about what was going on in my life, you got kids from the trailer court to tell you shit about me, a full $5 for each bit of information. that’s how you found out i smoked, drank, got high, and had a black best friend. you even sent two guys on my fucking spring break trip to daytona beach. i know this because on the last night, we all got drunk together and they told me. then they proceeded to tell me your name, my full name, where i lived and what you wanted to know. i wasn’t even safe from you 1,000 miles away.

can i just tell you how fucked up that is? that is seriously fucked up. i was the most paranoid teenager i knew, even without the pot.

you made me stop being friends with kim, you beat my ass when you found out i smoked and you grounded me for three months for drinking. fuck you. i started getting high with my dealer’s 16-year-old wife before school, i went through the bottle of vodka you had hidden in your cupboard, filling it with water instead. that’s right dad, the more you tightened the screws, the more i fucked up. i went to school drunk every day, or high, or both. i hid beers in my bedroom and drank them when you were asleep. i smoked in the bathroom after you and mom left for work. i feared getting caught, but the rush was incredible.

lesson #8 – my father is out to get me, and he will always find me.

you wouldn’t let me date the same guy twice, because you didn’t want me to get pregnant, the way mom did. you wanted me to get an education and be someone. or something. not for my sake, but so that you could say you had a college-educated child. and i was so terrified of getting pregnant that i didn’t had sex until i was 19. and then i slept with every guy i wanted to when i went away to college. because i could, and you had never taught me to respect my body. you had only taught me to get away with whatever i could. i never enjoyed the sex, but being sneaky felt awesome.

lesson #9 – sex is about power and revenge.

when i was in my final year of grad school, i met my future husband, only i didn’t know it at the time. i was smart and i knew about birth control. but when you should have taught me confidence, i learned fear. where self-esteem should have been, there was an empty well, waiting to be filled by someone else’s ideas and beliefs. fear of abandonment took the place of knowing my own worth. standing my ground was replaced by an aching need to please, at any cost. so when my future husband said “no rubbers, please” i said “ok”. because i needed to be loved, and i was afraid of losing him.

lesson #10 – do whatever i have to do make other people happy. my thoughts and feelings don’t count and should be kept to myself. they will only make others stop loving me.

and then i got pregnant. your biggest fear. and because you were my biggest fear, and because i didn’t believe in myself, and because my boyfriend didn’t want a baby and because i didn’t want to be abandoned, i had an abortion. then the self-hatred really kicked in.

lesson #11 – all decisions should be based on fear.

it has taken me 20+ years to undo what you did to me. everyday i untangle a bit more of the knot, trying to smooth out the yarn. it’s still good yarn, and everyday i knit myself.

lesson #12 – you made me stronger, smarter, tougher and braver. so fuck you.

[akalittlemisscrazy]

Backpacking Escapes: Siem Reap

Siem Reap. A backpacker’s dream and our last stop after 50 days of traveling. Of course the big attraction of this city to tourists is the temples, particularly Angkor Wat. For our first day we rented bicycles for $1 a day as suggested by a blog Rachel had read. All I can say is dear God I’m impressed if they actually managed to actually cycle all 3 circuits in 2 days without melting. With a proper dirt bike I may have been able to, although I would be very tired after a grand total of approximately 150 kilometres. But honestly what killed us was the heat. I’d recommend bringing A LOT of water or at least some money for the street vendors (who thank goodness sell ice cold water for normal prices instead of trying to rip you off. Absolute life savers).

We cycled the small circuit; a total of 43 kilometres in 36*C heat on the most rickety bikes I’ve ever seen. Even though I was a bit stiff by the end of the day I sti enjoyed this experience. The highlights of this route include Ta Prohm (accurately nicknamed Indiana Jones or Tomb Raider temple) with some spectacular Strangler Figs engulfing the doorways. I love how despite all the restoration and conservation efforts, they have haven’t pushed the jungle completely back. This keeps the mysterious forgotten world aura surrounding these temples in tact.

Srah Srang was once the 'Royal Bathing Pool' for ritual bathings. It was so perfect I just couldn’t resist dipping my feet in, much to Rachel’s amusement as she watched in confusion as I suddenly threw my shoes off saying “Why not?!”.

Bayon Temple is so drastically different to all the other temples that it is somewhat curious to explore. It originally had 49 towers; today 37 towers remain with almost 200 faces carved facing in 4 directions. Despite its slightly cluttered feel, this temple was mysterious and beautiful in the evening golden light.

Angkor Thom means ‘city centre' and is actually the collective name for the area including the Terrace of the Elephants and Terrace of the Leper King. Make sure to fully explore these areas, particularly between the inner and outer walls as there are many wonderful carvings that are still well preserved down here. See if you can find the 5 headed horse, the elephants and the 5 headed Nagas.

Our final adventure for our first day here was our “shortcut” home. And by “shortcut” I mean Google maps told us there was a road running down to join the riverside track. In reality this was a very narrow dirt path winding through the jungle, then along a road that was more pot holes than actual road through the village-like outskirts of Siem Reap. On the bright side I’m fairly sure we were the highlight of the day for many many children who all rushed out to say to hello to us as we passed by, then sprinted back inside to tell their parents about the strange girls. Honestly I’ve never said hello so many times in such a short space of time – it was so endearing 😊. The people here are so friendly, warm and open.

Angkor Wat sunrise is probably the number one thing you’ll hear people recommend, for a very very good reason. I mean, just look at this beauty:

I don’t think words are even necessary; these photos speak volumes for themselves. No filters - that's just genuinely what it looked like. Yes it meant dragging ourselves out of bed at 4.30am but at least today we’d had the sense to book a Tuk Tuk driver for $12 each who took us to Angkor Wat for sunrise, then to all the way out to Banteay Srei (which by the way is worth the journey away from the city. It's only a small temple but it has a wild beauty around it and the grounds are also lovely), then finally around the Grand Tour of Angkor.

Another major advantage of getting up early meant we had a lot of the temples to entirely ourselves. Literally Queens of Backpacking ❤️

For our day off we decided to simply wander. Something about the twisting streets screams 'explore me' and it has one of the best vibes we’ve had from any city. It is quirky and interesting, and the people are so lovely. We decided to walk towards the riverside and stumbled upon an old map for the 'Historical Quarter Walk' which held a view interesting sights.

Before long we arrived at the Royal Gardens Park, nicknamed Bat Park for a very good reason. We flopped on a bench in the shade for a quick drink and both had the same sudden almost simultaneous moment of realisation. Rachel’s jaw dropped as I gasped 'Holy cow...'. Looking up we realised the trees were full of hundreds and hundreds of fruit bats hanging from the branches.

Having found our own little peaceful corner watching these bats occasionally flutter from tree to tree, we spent the rest of the afternoon lounging here. The park is very quiet and sleepy during the day but wakes up in the evening. Apparently if you want an outdoor Zumba class this is the number one place to go. We passed 3 on our way out of the park.

Another highly recommended activity I’d found on Pinterest was the Happy Horse Ranch. Another 5 gold stars to Pinterest – this was BRILLIANT. We’d started going into animal withdrawal so a three hour hack seemed to be the perfect cure. This is the best way we’ve come across to see the picturesque countryside. Endless fields of rice plantations and lotus flowers stretched out all around us. There’s nothing quite like feeling of wind running through your hair as you canter through such a peaceful gorgeous place. And to top it off all the horses here looked happy and healthy. This place easily gets a 10 out of 10 and I’d gladly go again. Our guide (Kong) was very friendly & helpful, the views spectacular and the horses perfectly matched to our experience levels (a.k.a. we can both handle a slightly fizzy spooky horse, personally it makes the ride more enjoyable than plodding along on an old cob! Even if it is slightly more difficult to shimmy past a water buffalo threatening to charge at you when you’re also trying to persuade your horse it’s absolutely fine if she just keeps on walking).

Artisans Angkor was simply an incredibly lucky break. We’d been googling free things to do in the city when I came across a brief mention of this silk workshop around the corner from our hostel. It ended up being so much more – by simply turning up at the door you get a free guided tour around the workshop where they make wooden carvings, stone carvings, silver inlays, jewellery and some stunning silk garments. You really get an appreciation for the amount of skill and how long it takes to make these masterpieces. Some of the stone sculptures take 4 months to complete. The tools they used are recycled from old motorbike and tuk tuk springs. These artisans also help with the restoration of the Angkor temples, recreating some beautiful statues based on the original designs. During your tour you may even get to try carving yourself (then realise how hard it is and watch amazed as the guy turns your scribble into a masterpiece).

The next day we returned to the workshop to get the free shuttle bus for another free tour (I love that Asia is cheap, but free is even better ❤️), this time around the silk farm itself. Hats off to whoever first looked at a cocoon made by a worm and thought “You know what? I bet that will make a really nice fabric”. I learnt so much here and it didn't cost us a penny. Artisans Angkor use over 60% of their sales income to give back to the local community and provide so many people with jobs & support. Definitely high up on my recommendations list. It's such a shame more people don't know about this. Go go go people.

And that's it....

The end of my Backpacking Escapes series. For now at least! Thanks to the fellow travellers I've met along the way I've now got a list of new places to visit and things to try as long as my arm, and I can't wait for more adventures. South East Asia has truly been a dream, and I would say it's been a once in a lifetime trip - but how can it be when I'm so in love and so desperate to come back?! I'm certain this won't be my last visit to Asia, but rather the first of many.

Bon voyage for now my friends! I've got a couple more blog posts planned but it's time to go home. To those of you still travelling make the most of every moment! And those of you who aren't....

What are you waiting for??