What the heck is Hygge?

Gently putting my lips to a steamy Yorkshire brew. The lighting is cosy. I’m wearing fluffy socks. My heart-rate has slowed down. This is hygge.

I came across this term about a year ago in various health mags / Instagram accounts. Someone I overheard said it meant ‘cosy.’ I wasn’t that interested if I’m honest. I just thought it was people being proud of their interior design and photo editing skills. I also read the word hygge in my head as, ‘hi-gee.’

Turns out, the word ‘hygge’ (pronounced hue-guh) is a Danish concept (and a glorious one at that!) In June, I was lucky enough to live and breathe the hygge lifestyle during a long weekend away in Copenhagen…

June 10th, 2017

I met Maja over a year ago, when we were both travelling independently in Australia. We met in Hervey Bay, explored Fraser Island together and then after continuously messaging and keeping each other up to date, we met up again in Cairns! (Read more about our first meet here)

We had shared so much together and got to know each other so very well in such a short space of time. Our humour, morals and life ambitions clicked instantly and it felt like we had known each other for years. It felt strange to part ways, but we both did the polite thing of saying, “you should come and visit me some time.”

In reality, that rarely happens, does it?

Maja lives in Copenhagen. Whilst our ‘every few months little catch up’ over Facebook messenger was taking place, I found out that return flights to Copenhagen from London Heathrow were only £50. Done.

Visiting Copenhagen

Alongside lots of girly squeals, hugs and catch ups, Maja helped me embrace the true Danish lifestyle!

Whilst we sat in her beautiful, minimalist apartment, she said:

“I don’t think there’s an English word for hygge. The closest translation is ‘cosy’ but I don’t think that is a very good translation. Hygge (pronounced huh-guh) is something that brings inner peace and happiness. It really can be anything as long as it is something that you crave / desire. Hygge could be snuggling up in front of the fire. Hygge could be eating a cake. Hygge could be meditating. Hygge could be laughing with friends. If you walk into a room and get good vibes you could say it’s ‘hygge’ … The Danes are using this word a lot lately and doing whatever they can to achieve it.”

How did we achieve hygge?

Experiencing Tivoli Gardens is a must when visiting Copenhagen. However, Maja’s top tip was to go in the evening, when the sun is beginning to set. The air was cool but not cold and the sky showcased swirls of pink, orange and indigo. Twinkling, dainty-lights surrounded our footsteps and laced the trees whilst our eardrums were filled with notes from the violin and the piano. We watched the world go by as we drank fruit tea from intricate tea-pots and pretty cups.

Of course, the next morning I had to experience a modern Scandinavian breakfast. Maja carefully prepared boiled eggs, luminous pink grapefruit and skyr yogurt. The Danes love to eat natural foods, rich in protein to fuel them for the day ahead.

FullSizeRender 2

Fully fuelled, before we knew it, it was lunch. We had spent the morning cycling around Copenhagen (here: BIKES ARE LIFE). We explored nautical Nyhavn and I took some touristy postcard style pics to please my Mum and Dad.

IMG_8502

Lunch was a real treat. We made our way up to the top floor of The Tower to indulge in the famous Open Sandwiches whilst having a sweeping cityscape view.

Nutty rye bread, juicy king prawns, and a view across the water to Sweden. What more could a girl want!?

If no hate and no rules are what you’re after, then head over to Christiania (a tiny town within Copenhagen). Found on the island borough of Christianshavn, the Free Town of Christiania is a unique and somewhat controversial part of Copenhagen. It was established in 1971 when, in the midst of a housing shortage, squatters took over an abandoned military base and formed an alternative society. Best known for its Green Light District (filled with marijuana dealers and smokers – but it’s all OK, cos no rules!) The Free Town is also home to restaurants and bars, a market, artist workshops, and concert venues. There is plenty of street art to admire here, and residents live in converted army barracks or unique hand-built homes. It’s a fascinating place to catch a glimpse of a non-traditional way of life. I’ve never seen anything like it, it was like a dream. Maybe we breathed in too much air whilst walking around, as we both felt a little wobbly and giggly on our bike ride bike home.

Returning the favour

Summary: Copenhagen is a very happy city filled with happy people!

Hopefully I’ve helped to unpick the ‘hygge’ concept a bit for you (with thanks to Maja!) Again it was difficult to say goodbye to her, but I can’t want to return the favour and have her stay with me in the UK.

But what can I do to match up to her excellent Danish culture weekend feat. Hygge!?

Fish and chip Friday?

Keep your head down and don’t talk to anyone in London Saturday?

Get muddy, wet and cold in Yorkshire but ‘av a proper brew Sunday?

 

Anyway, hope to see you soon, Maja!

All the best,

Liv x

FullSizeRender 3

Advertisements

Trying to do a Half Marathon in Delhi

4th March

Today was long and hard work. We left the hotel in Shimla at 9am and did not arrive in New Delhi until 11.45pm.

Our local guide was a woman – that was a surprise. Smaller than me, big beautiful brown eyes and smudged red lipstick. She told me that she would not eat anything all day because her stomach hurt. She even refused the boiled sweet that I offered her. I think she said her name was Charylee. Whatever it was, it sounded pretty.

Charylee escorted us onto the Toy Train. It was old, small and quaint, moving very slowly and showing off the panoramic views of the Himalayan mountains. The old railway had many twists and turns and took us through over 100 tunnels on our journey Shimla > Solan, which took three hours. Something about travel seems to make my bladder weak… never have I been so desperate to use a stinky, filthy hole-in-the ground. And never have I been so desperate for hand sanitiser.

We’ve had some incredible culinary experiences on our trip so far. But today, it was a disaster. I wanted something bland and so ordered boiled eggs on toast. It was vile, disgusting, and resulted in a terrible sense of humour failure on my part. If you’ve read previous posts, you’ll know that I’m a spice lover. So why pick something so tasteless? I’m hoping to do a half marathon tomorrow… that’s why.

Two hours of bumpy roads and mad over-taking left our tummies feeling very turned – probably not helped by my bad eggs and Mum’s deep-fried cheese. (Why on earth did she choose that!?)

The train food was ‘interesting’ let’s say. In an attempt to protect my little stomach for tomorrow, I stuck to pre-packaged food. Mum ate a couple of fried things and a few mouthfuls of suspect curry. STOP!!! I told her. She reluctantly stopped. The only unpackaged food that I did eat was a huge naan, wrapped in foil (in an attempt to carb up for tomorrow). Due to the hectic journey, I’m worried that I haven’t fuelled up enough for tomorrow’s race. My carb loading today has consisted of cereal and porridge for brekki, two dodgy eggs, three slices of toast and jam, two slices of banana bread, cereal bar, muffin, four bread sticks, a huge naan and three bananas. Will that be OK? We’ll soon find out…

When arriving in Delhi (late) as you can imagine, the traffic was hellish. After near death Mario Kart experience number sixty-eight, we finally arrived at the extravagant Maidens Hotel. The men were dressed in white and gold and had the kindest of smiles. After checking in, booking a taxi for the race tomorrow at 4.15am, guzzling a complimentary hot cocoa, my head hit the pillow at midnight (too exhausted to even change my clothes). I set my alarm for 3.30am. What am I doing?

5th March

It’s dark. We’re lost. The taxi driver is lost. Nobody knows where the Yamuna Half Marathon start line is and I’m buzzing off my tits, at 4.30am, thanks to very little sleep, an energy drink, a power bar and pack of jelly beans with added electrolytes.

In broken English, the taxi driver suggested we call the race organisers. He offered me his phone. I didn’t think that there would be any point calling – it’s 4.30am for goodness sake! Who on earth would be in the office? Once again, India surprises me – a man answered.

“Cancelled.”

No explanation, just: “cancelled.”

Annoyed, deflated, but still wide-eyed from sugar and additives, I sulked back to the room.

I tried to go back to sleep, but couldn’t. I had stomach cramps instead. “Oh no!” said Mum, trying to be sympathetic. She was about to put her arm around me, but then ended up barging me out of the way instead, so that she could be violently sick in the loo.

My stomach pain passed as quickly as it came on. Mum on the other hand, wasn’t so lucky. Delhi Belly has struck. I repeat. Delhi Belly has struck. This is not a drill.

This meant I was to explore Delhi by myself. Poor Mum, she would have loved to experience it too. I was shown around by a local guide – Bubbu, who looked after me ever so well.

My hopes weren’t all that great for Delhi. ‘Smelly Delhi’ they call it. But wow, it was so much better than I imagined! Even with no sleep and feeling a little lonely without Mum, there were moments where my jaw would ache from smiling ear to ear, feeling so lucky to be seeing this colourful chaos, the madness of it all.

Bubbu and I rode on the back of a Rickshaw (a cart lead by a bike) through tiny backstreets and through the bustling spice market. We rode along a main road too and almost got clipped by other vehicles, including a bus. At first it was a little scary, but then after each near miss, I laughed out loud, feeling truly alive. It was electric. I could feel my heart beating in my head (although that could be due to no sleep). Who cares.

It was a surreal experience to wander around India Gate and see the President’s House. But it’s more of a palace than a house. In fact, it’s more of a city. The President has over 7,000 workers and the house has its own post office, school, hospital, tennis courts, football pitch… and in the garden, it is said to have every type of rose on earth.

I finished off my day by treating myself to an Indian head massage. The coconut oil that they used made my hair greasy for days, but the wonderful experience was worth it. Although, questionable at times. I closed my eyes in sheer relaxation, but then my eyes widened as there was definite boob cupping as he massaged my chest.  I’m pretty sure that’s not allowed, but I was too exhausted and relaxed to care. I thought what the heck, it actually felt quite nice.

Hurrah! Mum was feeling brighter and was going to attempt to join me for dinner. I couldn’t get over how beautiful she looked, even though she had been so sick all day. We ate outside on the garden terrace. The candle lighting and the warm evening air made the whole place feel like paradise.

I can’t believe our Indian adventure is almost at an end.

Before visiting, I thought it was a bit of a cop out when people said, “words cannot describe” in their response to, “so what is India like?”

Now I know what they mean. I don’t think we have the language to describe such decadence and such dirt, such beauty and such pain. My experience of India has been a constant, fighting juxtaposition between heart-fluttering madness and inner peace. It is a country that makes you feel alive. It is a country that makes you feel everything and nothing.

 

 

A beautiful old man, stray dogs and snow-peaked mountains

I paid a grand total of 10 Indian rupees (about 12p) for a roadside chai tea masala (with extra ginger please!) The cardamom circled my tongue and went down a treat. As we drank the sweet tea in little paper cups, under the star light – we were joined by an old man, who proudly told us that he was 70 years old.

His smile was crooked and his voice was soft and sounded like a nightingale’s song. After speaking with us for a maximum of 30 seconds, he touched my head and gave me his blessing. He then said, “tomorrow, you be here.”

“No, I’m sorry. We leave Amritsar tomorrow.”

“No, tomorrow, you be here.”

“No, sorry. We leave and go to Dharamshala tomorrow.”

“No, tomorrow you be here.”

He really wasn’t getting it, was he?

But before the 70 year old man got on his scooter and rode off into the moonlit side road in central Amristar, he touched my head once more, blessed my precious life, and said for the final time, “Tomorrow, you will be here.” He tapped his heart whilst saying this. “You will always be with me here.”

27th February

Today we venture further north to Dharamshala. It is in the foothills of the Himalayan mountains and it is a place both Mum and I are struggling to say. It is supposed to be Dar-am-shall-ah, but so far it has been Duh-haram, D-haram-salla, Daram-sall-shalla…

Yesterday Mum told Gobind, “We’re going to Dar-am-shlow-mo tomorrow.” — That is definitely not correct.

Dharamshala, Dharamshala, Dharamshala. We practice and laugh.

After a five hour drive, we arrived at our hotel in between upper Dharamshala and lower Dharamshala. I guess you could call it, ‘middle’ Dharamshala. (Man, I’ve said Dharamshala too much). It’s almost 3,000ft above sea-level and apart from the loud, barking dogs, it’s rather quiet. The place we are staying at seems more like a house than a hotel – it’s old Indian style – quite grand but in a ‘could-definitely-do-with-a-lick-of-paint’ kind of way.

We spent the afternoon hiking to upper Dharamshala. Mum got a bit cranky and did not appreciate my springy, hiking enthusiasm.

The nights are cold. Freezing in fact. After an Indian feast I returned to the chilly room to find that a kind member of staff had put a hot water bottle in my bed. Ah, they know the way to my heart.

***

February 28th saw us trek a different, more beautiful way to upper Dharamshala. We walked amongst yellow mustard flowers with splendid mountain views, admiring their snowy peaks. We were privileged to visit many temples and learn about 3 million facts regarding His Holiness The Dalai Lama (who lives in exile there). Our guide liked facts. He liked facts a lot.

***

Ever had rice pudding but instead of rice, it’s noodles? I have. Dinner was an intriguing, triumphant feast once again. The staff kept coming out with more and more, loading your plate with fabulous flavours. I thought it was fabulous anyway, however, a British man who sat opposite me would disagree. I soon learned that his name was Stan (his wife Barbara enjoyed saying his name after every sentence).

“I want fish. Where’s the fish?”

“There’s no fish, Stan.”

1st March

It was a silly idea to attempt a run really. After about 6 strides, 4 stray dogs were jumping up at me. They were skinny and looked hungry. I had a mild heart attack but did my best to stay calm. It took me right back to last year, in Indonesia and Thailand, when I had some awful experiences being alone with stray dogs. Breathe. Breathe. Close the gate. Of course, they jump over the gate. Breathe. Breathe. Back in the room. Alive. All good.

We venture to Pragpur today and will be staying in a place called The Judge’s Court. It’s in a Heritage Village and has a rich history. Founded about 3 centuries ago, Pragpur has held onto the essence of an earlier era – unchanged shops, cobbled streets, ornamental village tank, mud plastered and slate roofed houses. I hear that The Judge’s Court will be grand and have that ‘croquet on the lawn’ and ‘more tea Ma’am?’ kind of feel.

“I want to travel, but…”

Absorbed by a new job and the bubble of London, the travel blog has been somewhat neglected. A few people have asked me to write new posts and quite frankly I have ignored these requests. Why would I write about the ordinary? This morning I had toast instead of porridge. Wow.

However, I have also received some messages from people asking for ‘travel advice.’ I’m no travel agent but I’m always thrilled to speak about travelling and my experiences – some of the things that I got right… and about some of the things that I got oh so very wrong. What should I pack? Do you think this will be a good route? How do you make friends? How do you budget money?

As I have mentioned in a previous post, I have now written a travel book. It is half journal and half advice for first time solo travellers. Amongst some words of encouragement, it’s full of light-hearted anecdotes, all written in a tell-it-how-it-is fashion. (It ain’t all pretty). The advice chapters are as followed…

Should I leave my job?

What countries should I visit?

How long should I go away for?

Should I travel alone?

Top safety tips for solo travel

Travelling alone as a woman

What to pack?

What not to pack

Planning versus spontaneity

How to make friends

How do deal with your own company

Mind over matter

Learn to say yes

What to do when you miss home

What to do when you think ‘This isn’t for me…’

How to budget

What I wish I’d have known

How to avoid the travel blues?

What do the others say?

 

A part of me wants to just post all of it now, but I’ve got to be strict with myself and continue to edit and continue to sweet talk publishers. Hopefully one day it will be on the shelves and part of the E-book family. One can dream.

I think it is allowed that I share the title with you though. ‘GO.’

Because that really is the advice in a nutshell. GO. If you are considering some kind of adventure, however big or small, just go. It’s always easier to think of a million reasons not to do something.

And for the messages that I have received from people either considering going, or about to jet off, I will happily share with you the advice that I collected from some of the friends that I met whilst backpacking this year…

Jackson, 22 (Somerset, UK)

Don’t travel to find yourself, travel to find everyone else.

 

Jade W, 25 (London, UK)

Backpacking is one of the most exciting experiences you will get in life, and whether you realise it or not you’ll be growing and changing as a person with every encounter you make. So whether it’s trying exotic food, talking to people you don’t know, or solo travelling for the first time, throw yourself into every situation and really push yourself, even if it’s completely outside your comfort zone, because you will get so much more out of the experiences you didn’t know you could do.

 

Hannah, 25 (Leamington Spa, UK)

Always take a pack of playing cards.

 

Harry, 23 (Leicestershire, UK)

Live in the moment and absorb all that you can.

 

Sophie, 22 (Leicestershire, UK)

Do things that scare you.

 

Annie, 22 (Worcester, UK)

If there’s something you really want to do while you’re travelling don’t let anything stop you from doing it- whether that be fear, money etc, etc. For most of us travelling to these places is a once in a lifetime opportunity and you don’t want to come back with any regrets.

 

Georgia, 22 (Melbourne, Australia)

Wherever you go, don’t leave without a bottle of water and a lip balm. There is nothing worse than feeling dehydrated and having dry lips!

 

Brit, 22 (Melbourne, Australia)

Always travel with a power board. That way you only need one travel adapter but can charge multiple things from home at once.

 

Matt, 27 (Birmingham, UK)

Speak to everyone you can, you never know who you might meet and who could become a friend that you will keep in touch with forever!

 

Emily, 21 (Surrey, UK)

Never buy the backpacks that only open from the top.

 

Jess, 24 (Peterborough, UK)

Embrace whatever seemingly strange situation you will often find yourself in as they create the best memories to share with people later on.

 

Margaret, 22 (Nova Scotia, Canada)

Keep your plans flexible because some of the best memories come from the things that you never expected you would do!

 

Martin, 25 (Carlisle, UK)

Make damn sure you never come away thinking, “I should’ve done that.”

 

Aimee, 30 (Manchester, UK)

Things never quite go the way you expect – be open to following wherever the path wants to take you.

 

Sarah, 28 (London, UK)

No matter which country you go to, always take an umbrella! It doesn’t only get rainy in England.

 

Maja, 22 (Copenhagen, Denmark)

Go to the rainforest in Australia. Stay there for more than just one night, so you really get to experience being away from the world and all it’s stress and social media.

 

Fred, 24 (Surrey, UK)

Don’t do too much coke. It’s all fun and games until the heart palpitations kick in.

 

Robin, 23 (Sheffield, UK)

Never sleep in too late. Get up and do things. You can sleep when you’re old.

 

Daisy, 29 (London, UK)

Invest in a decent bag – it’s basically your life-line for the trip. Make sure it’s not too full when you leave home as you’ll want to buy things on your travels.

 

Jade R, 24 (Stratford-upon-Avon, UK)

Never trust a fart in Asia.

Connie, 22 (Durham, UK)

Just wing it.

 

Dirk, 30 (Germany)

If you are in love, never talk to an amazing girl who will confuse you as much as hell.

 

Marvin, 20 (Switzerland)

Don’t plan too much. Let it happen.

 

Eilidh, 21 (Scotland)

Don’t follow the same trip everyone does just because it’s seen as the ‘normal’ backpacker route. If you want to go somewhere, GO. If there is somewhere you don’t fancy, ‘DON’T GO.’ It’s your trip, so follow your heart. Also, don’t get drunk and ride horses.

 

Luke, 28 (Hertfordshire)

Keep putting yourself in new positions to make new memories.

 

Christopher, 24 (Wirral, UK)

Remember, you can always come back!

 

Anne, 19 (Winnipeg, Canada)

Imodium is NOT a solution or cure; is it merely a final, desperate act for survival.

 

Jade E (Neath, Wales)

You’re never truly alone.

 

 

When 4 months becomes 7

For some reason, over the last few years, saying ‘yes’ became increasingly difficult. ‘Buy the expensive dress’ – no. ‘Have a one-night-stand’ – no. ‘Go on a walk instead of a run’ – no. For many things, it’s always easier to come up with a thousand reasons not to do things.

Before I set off from home, back in January, one of my goals when travelling was to say ‘yes’ to more things. Being a stubborn little sod, it was difficult at first, but as you can imagine, the power of saying yes became addictive. Each time, endorphins exploded, new adventures were had and new stories were to be told. By saying ‘yes’ you begin to see more, feel more – live more. You realise how narrow-minded and silly you were before.

“If someone offers you an amazing opportunity to do something and you’re not sure you can do it, say yes. Then learn how to do it later.”Richard Branson

Saying yes can open doors. Not only does it allow for a fantastic experience, there and then, but it can allow for a snowball effect of positive outcomes. You will probably have hundreds of examples when saying yes to a certain thing, meant that you had a string of good things happen after that. Maybe it was that by saying yes to go ice-skating with your cousin, meant that you met Derek who became your friend and helped you get a job, and at that job, you ended up meeting the love of your life at the company’s Christmas party? My most recent example, started with a certain ‘yes’ last year, but I am still reaping the benefits. Last year I had planned to spend some time in LA. Unfortunately, I felt that I didn’t fit in there very much. A friend, Joe (who, at the time I barely knew) kindly offered that I stay with him, up in the mountains in Mammoth Lakes (near Yosemite). As amazing as that offer was… I couldn’t leave L.A. I had planned to spend 2 weeks there. That was my plan. I couldn’t stray away from the plan. But the reality was, my plan wasn’t right for me. After lots of mmms, errrs and maybes, I eventually said yes to going to the mountains. Guess what? I fell in love with Mammoth and Joe is now one of my best friends. So, fast-forward a year and I am staying with him in Mammoth Lakes for 3 months – writing and altitude training. I am, quite literally, living my dream.

But like all dreams, there comes a point when you have to wake up. And guess what? I am almost at that point. I have been away from home this year for almost 7 months, and in less than a week, I will be flying away from the mountains, towards Leeds Bradford Airport. I’m feeling a mix of emotions and struggling to articulate my current thought process regarding the situation. I think because I feel so at home out here, the concept of leaving for home feels a little unsettling. And it’s a blooming long journey: I will leave Monday evening and not reach Leeds until midday on Wednesday. I repeat, Wednesday.

However, I am comforted by something that Joe said to me: “You’ve got to go in order to come back.”

In addition, never will I forget what my Canadian soul-mate (Anne) who I met in Thailand said to me: “Don’t be sad that it’s over, be happy that it happened.”

 Happy is an understatement. Amongst writing, altitude training, endless hiking in the mountains and stage management, I have also been privileged to try the ‘grapple’ (a grape flavoured apple). Thank you California, you’ve been “totally awesome, dude.”

 

 

Maybe Canada next year?

I have a tendency to be as awkward as a cow on roller skates. I’m too quiet. I laugh at things that aren’t funny. I have a resting bitch face. I always look lost. I say, ‘pardon?’ too many times and if I were given a pound for every time I waved at somebody when they were waving at the person behind me – well, I’d be a millionaire.

The other day in fact, I joined a new running club. A woman just behind me said, “wow, sweetie! You did so well!” I quickly turned round, smiling like a Cheshire cat, and said, “Aww thank you! My quads was hurting a bit, but I really enjoyed it.”

Guess what? She was not talking to me. She was talking to her dog.

Sometimes you can run away from feeling so awkward by thinking, ‘ah well. I’ll never see them again.’ But that option doesn’t look so likely for me right now, as I am living here, in Mammoth Lakes, for 3 months. It’s quite a small town and you bump into the same people quite a lot.

NOTE: Mammoth Lakes is in California, not Canada. I’ve had quite a few messages lately asking me how Canada is. Or telling me that it looks like I’m having an incredible time in Canada.. AM I!?!?!

I am so grateful to be living in Mammoth (California) for the summer. It’s my favourite place in the world. I quite often have to pinch myself. Last week for my birthday, I climbed my favourite mountain to 11,000 ft and enjoyed some squashed birthday cake at the top.

This week I kept up with my altitude training, helped out with the Summer Mini Adventure Camp and did some babysitting. I spent 5 hours yesterday with a 6 year old boy who repeatedly told me that I had small boobies.

I’m tired from the altitude and feeling a little deflated at my slower running times up here. But I’m determined to keep working hard and hopefully see the benefits when I’m back in the UK. At sea level. With all that beautiful oxygen.

So, folks. I’ve been here one month now. Two more to go! Maybe Canada will be next on my list?

God bless America

 

I am pleased to announce that I am writing a book. Currently 44,000 words in and going strong.

I usually turn my nose up at ‘writers’ who are sat in cafes, typing away. ‘How pretentious’ I would think. Why do you have to be in public to do that? Go home and drink copious amounts of unlimited tea and coffee. Nobody needs to see you.

Sorry guys. I take that back. I now regularly head out to cafes to whack another few pages out. If I were to be in the house all day it would drive me crazy! And you know what, the odd over-priced iced coffee is nice. Ah, I indulge in my mountain village paradise. I love looking up from my screen every now and again and watching the world go by.

A man on the adjacent table started to speak to me. He assumed that I was a local and asked me if I knew where a particular European restaurant was. “Erm. Do you know what it’s called?” I asked.

He did not.

“I think it does French food” he said.

That did not narrow it down. He then continues to chat to me, asking what I’m doing. I tell him I’m writing a book (still feels weird to say that). We chat for quite a while and then, HEAD DOWN, I’m in the zone.

“So have you been on many hikes?”

I politely respond telling him that I love hiking, running and being outdoors.

Head down.

“Which hike is your favourite?”

(Breathe in). “I like Arrow Head. Also Mammoth Mountain – that’s a classic.”

(starts to type again).

“What about Yosemite?”

I give him a really, really long answer, hoping that it will exhaust him.

(starts to viciously type again).

Does he give in? Nope. He basically demands a chapter breakdown of my book. I AIN’T NEVER GONNA FINISH THE BOOK IF Y’ALL KEEP ON DISTURBING ME.

Aside from writing, it’s been quite a week. My friend’s car was going spare, so I’m a very lucky girl and that big boy is mine for my time here. It’s Dodge Durango 4WD. It’s huge and red and I look like a right wolly being so high up and close to the wheel. I’ve had a few heart palpitations learning to drive on the ‘right’ (wrong!) side of the road, but it’s great to have the freedom.

Back on foot… I was on a hike the other day and finally saw a wild bear! I have been waiting long and hard for this moment and it’s great to know that they are real and not a myth. I sent my Mum a photo and she said: ‘Oh my! Were you scared!?”

Genuinely, not even a drop of fear was in my body. I was just happy to see him and thought he was cute. Not the smartest attitude to have…

I’ll tell you what is smart though: hot lemon and honey. It seems to have done the trick. My cold is tackling the final hurdle – I no longer feel run down. However my sense of smell is still left to the imagination and I have a cough that resembles a saggy-faced-30-a-day-smoker.

In addition, the hiking and running have turned my big toe a beautiful blackish blue. It looks gross but I also have a strange sense of pride about it.

Pride increases when, last Thursday, I went for a run with Deena Kastor. Deena is America’s best woman marathoner. She is a successful Olympian and holds the American women’s record for the marathon in an inspirational time of 2:19:36.

If you’re bored / interested in what I am getting up to in the ‘running world’ and what I am discovering about ‘altitude training,’ you can read more about that on my running blog: https://livforrunning.wordpress.com

Speaking of running, 4th July celebrations started with a race (ever so pleased to be second lady!) The rest of the day was fun-filled with parades, candy, pumpkin pie and fireworks. And then some more pumpkin pie. God bless America.

Lots of Americans are intrigued about my opinion on Brexit. It’s a sore spot, I tell them. A very, very sore spot.