Travelling for work - To Do's and Not To Do's

I am typing this whilst in Prague, where I attended a meeting with my colleagues from all over Europe. I've mentioned this before, travelling is difficult for me. I love the excitement of going new places, seeing people in the flesh that I work with every day remotely and breaking away from the daily office routine.

I would be lying though if I didn't admit that it is difficult for me. It's better than it was whilst I was in my disorder, but it's still hard. A lifetime ago, I would hunt out the best places to buy food on the taxi ride to the hotel, checking where I can get my fix and would consider what excuses I would use to get away from everyone in the evenings, so I could eat and puke. So, I am oh so glad I'm no longer in that space.

It feels freeing not to feel compulsive around that. I didn't scout for a supermarket, I had unhurried conversations with colleagues and I was present.

On the first and second day. And then, I took my eyes off the ball, feeling cocky and arrogant that I had this recovery shit covered. Did I hell...

My check in:
I have not been so close to breaking my abstinence in the last 10 months as I've been yesterday! It was a slow and gradual process, building up over the day and likely even sooner. I had a snack before lunch, had a bigger lunch, did not more think about it, had various snacks throughout the afternoon, and a big dinner. After returning to my room, I started eating a snack that my colleague had brought along for me as thank you for covering for him during his vacation. It was a big slab of almonds in nougat. Not only was the thing hard to open, so I had several chances to stop and consciously make a decision to go ahead, it was also a mother of calories. I thought, at that point, that I had broken my commitment to sticking to the plan already anyway, that i was allowed to reward myself. I thought that I would not feel remorse and simply pick up with the plan te next day. I had seen your emails throughout the day and felt pressure to follow your suggestions. It ended up with me in bed at 1:00 so uncomfortably full that I seriously considered getting rid of the contents of my stomach quickly. I pulled the emergency hand break and called a fellow in NYC. She talked me off the ledge and I am, this morning, so very thankful for her help.
I also went to weigh myself this morning. This,  I realise, is not a very kind thing to do. Nor is then staring at my belly and arms, trying to detect signs of my flabbiness. I know I am more than my weight,and I still carry a certain number in my head that I would like to be. This is pure punishment and I want to move away from that.
My body and my whole being has been giving me signals all along, when to stop, be that eating, worrying, stressing and working. I want to  be mindful and in balance with nature. I am a commitment to balance and I am so very grateful for not having broken my abstinence last night.

I am feeling much better having returned to London, having reconnected, gone to a meeting, called people and I can now honestly look back over that period and here is my list of do's and don't's:

Don't:

1. Make a plan and ignore it
2. Take an 'all or nothing' approach that translates into 'oh, I've eaten one snack off plan, might as well throw the entire day away and snack like a woman possessed'.
3. Don't buy snacks for the trip. Just don't. There will be food, I won't starve. Even if I do not have an afternoon snack, I will probably not starve. Fact.
4. Weigh myself on a scale. I can't handle it. It makes my head go crazy and I start obsessing about weight, how to get lower, how to diet etc.
5. Let excuses get in the way of connecting with the program. It works, IF YOU WORK IT.

Do:

1. Make a plan and stick to it.
2. Call fellows. Texting doesn't count. Call 'em. There will be 5 minutes, heck, even 2 minutes in the day, where I can call someone. Ideally, before and after meals.
3. Pull the emergency break and rest assured that there is a way out of a binge.
4. For me, texting before each meal/snack is essential, especially when travelling.
5. Taking stock of feelings before each meal is helpful.
6. Acknowledge that food cannot fill the hole I feel.
7. Forgive and move on to the next healthy step towards achieving a balance in life.
8. Writing out my feelings and speaking about things and connecting to the program helps me.

I'm gonna share some of the food pictures of the trip, just because I took them and a post with pictures is more interesting, I think:

The HOTTEST soup ever. EVER.
 

The team dinner

Beef tournedos with herb dumplings and cranberry sauce

Crème Brulee with Shortbread

Sunday roast at The Crown

Sometimes, only a proper roast will do. Especially on a Sunday, on a late summer afternoon, when it is getting colder, autumn is unmistakably in the air and the first conkers are falling to the ground. Walking around in Angel, strolling over the Farmers Market on Chapel Market and feeling rather lazy last weekend, that was exactly what happened.

On top of that, we were caught by a torrential downpour whilst looking for inspiration for what to cook that night. Rather than forcing ourselves to decide on something, I remembered that The Crown is only 5 minutes away from and it used to be one of my most favourite pubs to have a roast in when were living in that neighbourhood. Not only is the food really delicious, the pub itself is beautiful. The wood and glass interior retained a lot of the original charm and come rain or shine, it's a light filled place. It's one of those places where I can't imagine being grumpy in.

I had opted for the chicken, whilst the British Boy went for the lamb. My chicken was juicy, with more-ish crispy skin and the cabbage was doused in buttery goodness. Max' roast looked fantastic and the piece of lamb I blackmailed him into sharing was yummy.



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Roast chicken with cabbages and roasted vegetables.



Lamb roast with potatoes, veg and cabbage

I failed to see the daily specials board until after I had ordered, which was frustrating, as they had what sounded like an amazing scallop dish. I definitely want to come back and try more of a variety of foods. All I can leave with is that they know how to make a damn good roast for sure.

Date night

The British Boy will cringe when he reads this. Something as planned and contrived as a date will surely rouse his distaste. Whatever I want to call this, quality time (bleurgh), a movie and dinner, time spent with ones love, it happened and it was nice. I like dates, both the dried fruit variety and the going out, kissing and staring at each other adoringly.

This was one of the latter and it ended up with a meal at the Jugged Hare. It started with meeting my man for a movie at the Barbican. Going to the movies is scandalously expensive and with Max being a member there, he got a discount. I love a discount and I love the Barbican. Win win situation. The architecture is fascinating and it so reminds me of what people in the 70s must have thought the future to look like.



View into the Barbican comples

After the movie, we went for dinner at the Jugged Hare. We've been to this place before to enjoy an asparagus themed night and I really liked it. Because I had only had brunch, though it was a big brunch, I opted to have a starter and a main - and, gasp, dessert.

We began the meal by ordering a bottle of sparkly stuff and then dug into some warm, just out of the oven bread with butter. Yum, I had to stop myself from overdoing it. My starter was ox tongue with beetroot slaw and gherkin. I thought it was safe from Max, since he hates both beetroot and gherkins, but I was nice to exchange a bit of my tongue for his terrine. I won that one hands down.

 



Ox tongue, beetroot slaw and gherkin

My main was a honey roast salmon nicoise salad with the dressing on the side. Because I lived in the US for six years, I have no qualms stating my preferences when it comes to 'customizing' my order. Max has gotten used to it, but I think it's fair to say that he is still very much embarrassed by my special requests and oftentimes tells me that I need to order my own food if I am so picky. I happily oblige if it means I can enjoy my food more. Anyway, I am aware it is an utter pain for the chefs and I suspect or imagine that either my food has been the recipient of someone's angry spit or I have been cursed at. Haha. I don't care.

Salmon Nicoise

Max had the just in season roasted grouse. It tastes gloriously gamey and this round went to him.

Roast Grouse

I felt very reckless and carefree (likely the booze at that point) and ordered dessert. When I chose the chocolate and salted caramel pot with brittle, I thought of a chocolate fondant-esque concoction. It wasn't. It was the below. It was chocolaty and rich and dark and sadly not quite what I wanted. That's the problem with making assumptions. I get disappointed if it's not living up to my imaginary standards. I live and learn. It was a nice dessert, don't get me wrong. Just not what I thought it would be. Luckily the British Boy volunteered to help me finish it.

Chocolate and salted caramel pot

It's not the cheapest place. We ended up spending just over £100 for two starters, two mains, one dessert and a bottle of sparkling wine. I would come back for their themed nights, which are £65 per head for 5 courses inspired by seasonal food, paired with wine. That's more after my taste and more in line with my wallet.

British Boy's Birthday at the Smokehouse

A few weeks back, my beloved, caring, supportive and at times annoying and infuriating man turned 33. As has now become the norm, we take each other out to a nice restaurant to celebrate, just the two of us. Generally, there will still be a party or night at the pub with our friends at a later point, which I also love, yet the actual birthday dinner is special.

To make it that bit special, we choose restaurants the other person would like but not normally go to. In the past, I have taken him to The Ledbury, Galvin at La Chapelle, a dodgy Greek restaurant in the deepest darkest East German borderland to the Czech republic. Yeah, that one was a highlight... Well, this year, I was selfish and booked us into a much hyped and highly anticipated newly launched place called Smokehouse.

The restaurant received rave reviews in the press and the menu reads like a dream. I was really looking forward to the evening, also because I like supporting places that take the sourcing of their ingredients seriously and cook with the seasons. The Smokehouse definitely ticks all of these boxes.

The atmosphere on the evening was vibrant, hip and welcoming. Almost all tables were filled with a happy and relaxed crowd, the last few remnants of summer in the air. Upon sitting, I looked around, taking in the 'oh so right now' décor and huge beer selection. The craft beers on tap and in bottles were impressive and I want to come back purely to try some of them. Luckily, the Smokehouse is in our neighbourhood.

Anyway, I ordered a negroni and started the torturous back and forth dance of what to order. Because we were seated close to the open kitchen pass, I was able to drool over all the dishes coming out, which makes choosing something even harder.

Having chosen and settled in with our drinks, we soaked up the vibe until our food arrived. My starter of smoked mullet and pickled clams sounded inventive and looked so very pretty. Sadly, I felt disappointed with how bland it was and Max agreed with me. The smokiness of the mullet was barely detectable and the pickled clams lacked a vinegary kick to liven up the dish.


Smoked mullet, sea purslane & pickled clams

For main, I had chosen the flank steak with roasted vegetables and roast potatoes. By then, we had moved on to a punchy red wine, which name I forgot to write down. Since Max had ordered the braised ox cheeks with cauliflower cheese, a red was certainly called for. My steak was juicy, charred and exactly what I wanted. That was, until I tried Max' food. Having bribed the British Boy with promises of sexual favours to allow me to try his dish, I had to concede that he was the clear winner. The ox cheeks were meltingly tender, rich and just so moorish. I hate it when that happens. A) I am notoriously competitive and dislike not coming out on top and B) I ended up with food envy. Well, it was his birthday, so I snapped out of it. 

Steak at the Smokehouse

Coincidentally, a couple of our friends had also made reservations on the same night. They sat right behind us and because they are generous, or on second thought, quite vindictive and mean, they let me try the short rib bourguignon they had ordered and that I had initially put on my shortlist.

Fucking hell, that was amazing.

Really amazing.

Like, so good I know I'll have to come back just for that.

And the beer.

And the atmosphere.

Healthy meals

So, here is the last week in pictures - loving and nourishing meals:


Gazpacho

This gazpacho was my lunch for a few days, it was delicious, refreshing and filling during what seemed the last few days of summer in England.



Breakfast on the day of surgery - kale smoothie with oat and kasha topping. 

My Henkersmahlzeit, aka last meal, before going under the knife was courtesy of my lovely friend Christin. She had invited Max and I for a laid back BBQ on Sunday and in true East German form, sent us away with left overs. I could not have been happier to tuck into them for lunch:

Insane truffle hummus on sourdough bread



Revamped leftover salad containing: Quinoa, feta and pomegranate salad; mango salsa; garden greens; raw cauliflower and fennel.

Jumping to Wednesday:

French toast with goats yoghurt, strawberries and grapefruit.

Salad of roasted vegetables and tikka turkey breast. Enjoyed in a sunny garden.

Afternoon snack - erm, one of several - was this fudge brownie. It wasn't all that great, to be honest.

oh shit...

Yeah, it's tough, coming to the realisation that I very impulsively chose to have my eyes lasered and only afterwards fully researching the topic and not being able to reverse it. Aside from being scared shitless, I am also quite critical with myself. Pop on top of that that I also overate a lot last night, and I find myself in a perfect shit-storm. (Apparently the word shit-storm is now part of the German vernacular that even the German chancellor uses it officially. So, I feel thoroughly entitled to use it too.)

Bruising from the surgery.

Anyway, as I am still lying in bed, with a cappuccino the British Boy made for me, I now have a choice. I could, as I have done in the past, get the record out, dust it off and put it on, spending the rest of the day with the constant soundtrack of 'Should have researched sooner, made a big mistake, that fucking flap will tear off as soon at some point and YOU WILL NEVER SEE AGAIN EVER, STUPID WOMAN. Oh, and you are getting bigger by the day, control yourfuckingself around food and lose some weight you slob!!!'. That's certainly one option at the moment... Not a very nice one or useful or kind or productive or healthy or compassionate or loving. Well, actually, it's not really an option at all. It's hell.

What I will do instead:
Acknowledge my fear - yep, I am scared shitless.
Reality check the fear - Whilst instances of complications have been recorded, the probability of any disaster happening to me is very slim.
Accept what I cannot change - the surgery is irreversible. That sounds scary even as I type it, and it's ok to be scared and it's also a reality I cannot change. So, I chose to move on.
Focus on what I can do and be grateful - I wake up and see without contacts. I can travel without contacts stuff. I can cuddle without crashing my glasses into my or Max' face. I can look outside my bedroom window on a rainy Saturday morning, listen to the raindrops fall on lush green leaves, feel a few of the persistent and particularly mischievous ones land on my bare shoulders as they bounce off the sill. I can see the reflection of the tree on my laptop screen and can make out individual leaves. I can make room for the fear and breathe and choose happiness. Because it is healthier for me.

The next post will be a collection of pictures of my meals. These are the good and healthy dishes I ate, for when I overate yesterday, I funnily enough did not stop to snap loving pictures to remind myself of the actual amounts of food I compulsively snacked on... I live and learn.

Hectic times

Tumultuous times at work and real dips in self esteem and I am getting better at finding ways of not turning to food. Am I always successful? Am I heck... I am improving and it's progress, not perfection anyway.

Some of my eats:

Breakfast feast

coconut pancakes with fruit, yoghurt and mint

Beetroot, trout and horseradish salad

home-grown arugula and spinach

Bitten by the bug

I think I've been bitten by the tennis bug. So what if I went to the charity shop on Saturday to buy a racket and ended up accidentally getting a squash one because I don't know the difference?

I had a fantastic Saturday, woke up and had a breakfast that filled me up until the afternoon. I had toast with peanut butter, sea-hawthorn jelly thickened with agave syrup and a second toast with marmite and the last of the homemade hummus.

Fuel

I went to group and then to Pilates, after which I bought the racket in anticipation of an invite to play tennis with our friends Dan and Lisa on Sunday. Erm, slight fail.

On Sunday, we decided to try and find another racket. I'm not sure what to make of the one I bought. I might just donate it back to charity.

After a late breakfast of omelette, we cycled to Brick Lane, where aside from super hyper ueber hip fashion trendsters and achingly cool vintage stores there also is a huge open square that sells all kinds of stolen goods and flea market stuff. We found a wooden racket and set off again.

We stopped at Redemption for a drink. On the web, this looked so inviting.  really wanted to check out the location and it is lovely. When we got there, around 2 pm on a Sunday, it was fairly quiet and to pay £4 for a small jug of juice was steep. The price of the salads - £12 for one - was too much for me, despite sounding amazing and the pictures of the website really getting me to salivate. Maybe when I get a pay rise... well, actually, I am a cheap skate. 12 quid is a lot of money for a salad. Even organic, good for you, your body is a temple, hand-picked by virgins and prepared lovingly, this is more than I am willing to pay. Sorry Redemption.  

Redemption Rooftop - great location, a bit too pricy for me.

We cycled on around the corner to eat from the brilliant guys at Licky Chops, who have taken up residence at Climpson's Arch. I am glad we went. Although also on the pricier side, the atmosphere was livelier and was just right for me that day.

I got two smaller portions, because I am greedy and I couldn't decide. I forgot to take a picture of the grilled courgettes with stracciatella and pumpkin seeds. The smokiness of the zucchini was glorious and the creaminess of the cheese was a perfect foil for the crunchy, salty pumpkin seeds.

This beauty was not to be sniffed at either, I snaffled it up in no time:


Grey mullet ceviche with cucumber, gooseberries and dill.

When we took to the court at 5, I was slightly apprehensive. I hadn't ever played tennis properly. It was lovely and one hour flew by. Who would have guessed, I am super competitive, I cannot direct the trajectory of my tennis ball and overall I missed more balls than I hit them. Suffice to say, I want to go back and do it more often.

Lazy bones and the meaning of life

Arrgh, shit, I had written a lot on this post on Friday and now it's nowhere to be seen. Darnit. It would also appear that I had gotten the meaning of life (see title), which I have - obviously - forgotten again and I am just pissed off.

I'm gonna keep this short. Thursday and Friday were lazy days, that was the essence of the post. It felt relaxing to do nothing. I worked, went to pilates, worked some more, and in between, I would sneak off to indulge - sometimes even at lunch time - GASP. By indulge, I mean lazing on the sofa, letting my butt imprint on the couch, totally hooked on 'Girls'. I am such a fan of this show, it's tender and raw and weird - I like it.

Anyway, I was working from home both these days and I like being able to do something more exciting than just having overnight oats, which are my staple for when I go to the office.

Porridge with nectarine, coconut, mint and yoghurt. Yum.

 Lunch on Thursday:

Salmon with sautéed mushrooms, onions and asparagus.

Side salad from the garden - Arugula & spinach drizzled with maple syrup, lemon juice & poppy seeds

 Afternoon snack:

Hummus and vegetables

For dinner, on Thursday, we treated ourselves to a night out. There is a pub not far from us, the Marquess Tavern. For ages, it only served drinks, but recently it's been done up and now serves food too.

Lovely interior, very attentive bar staff

I went for the burger, with vegetables on the side instead of fries. It was not the most amazing burger I had ever tried, it was a bit too dry for that. The menu had a lot to offer and next time I will definitely try the scallops or the fish.


Burger at the Marquess Tavern

Thoughts and things

Sometimes, I run away. From the problems, the difficult shit, the uncomfortable feelings and situations. I kinda ran away last night...

I felt really uncomfortable last night at the meeting, I basically shared that I can't seem to stick to three meals, even when I commit to it. It felt like admitting a huge failure in regards to the program. There I had been tooting my horn about 9 months abstinence, when in fact I was unable to stick to my food plan. The snacking doesn't feel right and a lot of other OAers refer to their abstinence as sticking to three meals only.

As I write this now, I actually think that I did remain abstinent, since I didn't puke. I think I am being overly critical of myself. The snacking is something I want to stop, yet whether I give it a label of 'relapse' (which I have shame around) or whether I call it 'not sticking to the food plan', that does not change the action. It's the same action and when I do it in excess, I feel obsessive about it and in the past this kind of snacking has led me to binges. So, I would like to stop having unplanned snacks.

So, does having a glass of tomato juice after lunch count as snack? I was full and still had it. Is that a form of overeating?

I am working from home today and this is what I ate so far - aside from the aforementioned tomato juice. I cycled to my acupuncture appointment and back, in total 7 miles, and despite it being August and the sun shining, I was cold and a bowl of oatmeal appealed to my rumbling stomach.

For breakfast, I tried my last pouch of nut butter that I had brought back from my trip to Seattle. I was quite sceptical to try it - Artisana's Raw Blue Algae Nut butter. I mean, c'mon, cashew butter with algae? Seriously?!?

I eat my words - and the entire bowl of oats. It was yummy!

Oatmeal, strawberries, apricot, green nut butter and kasha.

At lunch, I ran/walked to the gym. Normally, I would jog, but my hip pain and renewed sense of self care means I am taking it slow. The 45 minutes in the Pilates class flew by and I walked back home to have this beauty:


Sautéed veggies with egg, chorizo and broad beans - kale from our garden.

So, now it is afternoon and I have a few more things to work on and have also a Skype date with a good friend of mine. I prepped the lamb koftas for tonight, will maybe make a tzatziki and some hummus to go with a pita and some salad.

Before I publish this post, I want to share a question my dearest spiritual mentor and friend Tania asked me, in reply to my check in this morning: Why am I actually on this journey?

I want to be healthy, I want to be happy and find smiles and chuckles in every day small things and big things. I want to be loved and accepted. I want to do good. I want to be enough. I want to accept that my life is enough for me, that I don't have to be a certain way, a certain shape, of a certain status, possess certain things. I want live with my whole heart, with my whole being, not distracted by thoughts of worthlessness or constant worries about food, weight gain and what that means for my self-esteem. I want to look at my family, my friends, my work and see a balance. I want to dream and love and have a family that is healthy and caring and compassionate

Restful Sunday

I did not do much and it felt good.

My day involved cycling to a meeting in Soho on the morning. I fuelled and nourished by body with an omelette that was filled with sautéed kale and chard from our garden, tomatoes, mushrooms and paprika.

Obligatory Sriracha sauce on top

The meeting in Soho is very close to one of my favourite coffee places - Milkbar, where I usually stop to get a coffee. This place does fabulous coffee, delicious sweet treats and a fabulous breakfast. The people behind the bar are also totally laid back, accommodating and sincere, which is rare.

On that visit, I could not resist and try one of their cookies, it is called an Afgan cookie: Chocolate with chocolate chips, cornflakes and a walnut. I paired it with fresh raspberries I got from a stall at the Islington Farmer's Market. Snack served.

Chocolate cookie and raspberries.

Soft is sexy

That's what I agreed with a dear friend is going to be my new mantra. The reason why that HAS to be my new mantra is the fact that I am softer now. I mean both in my body and in my mind, i.e. how I talk to myself. I find it hard to deal with the physical changes and so I want to affirm myself that soft is indeed sexy.

I've had a few turbulent days, best shared via my daily check ins:

I overate yesterday when I was alone at home in the evening. I snacked consistently after my dinner and today I am feeling shame and anger around that. I had a quick moment before I started, where I was thinking if I should really start, but disregarded it and ploughed on ahead. It was similar to when I was still binge/purging. I couldn’t stop and justified in my head why it was ok to continue eating. Today, I don’t agree with these arguments anymore and I can clearly see that there was a compulsiveness.

 

I have started texting in my food again, for today, which gives me a structure that has previously worked.

This whole thing is multi-layered. I snack, telling myself that I need it as I work out and justifying it by snacking on relatively healthy things (popcorn, carrots, fruit) and I eat until I am really really full, at which point remorse is already kicking in (sometimes even before I finish eating). If I am very very full, I sometimes wonder if I should throw it back up. I don’t, which I am very thankful for. So I go to the gym to counter the ‘snack-attack’, which in turn fuels my belief that I am entitled to a snack as I have worked out… Then on top of that, there is also the wish to fit into my clothes more comfortably. Whenever I wear trousers that are tight, which the majority of my jeans now are, I am constantly reminded of my weight gain. It’s nothing massive, I can still fit in most of them, albeit with a muffin top. It is noticeable to me though, also because I have a unhealthy obsession with my body and body image distortion. I check myself in the mirror, compare myself to older pictures of myself (fully well knowing that I was a lot sicker then, yet still wanting to be that thin, just in a healthy way). I wish I could get away from wanting to look a certain way. I truly believe that this is the ultimate goal for me in my recovery – to be a healthy weight, which I am at the moment, and be ok with that. To accept fluctuations, to eat out of hunger and enjoyment, rather than to address boredom, rather than to fill a hole or emptiness.

And because I feel trapped in this cycle, it’s hard. I totally white-knuckle it when I do just stay within the suggested three meals a day, feeling confined and my angry inner teenager goes ‘fuck you all, I can eat whatever I want and whenever I want and FUCK YOU!!!!’. I feel good once I stuck to the plan for a day or two and then go right of ‘rewarding’ myself for it by having a snack – I mean, seriously, how delusional and sick is that? And then I get so fed up because this feels so hard, dealing with feelings and not numbing or distracting myself with food/food-related activities is difficult and at times unpleasant. In moments, when I feel overwhelmed with the pressure of working on recovery, the disease is very appealing. It’s like a siren, calling to me to just give back in and slip back into utter insanity.

Argh, writing this all out already helps, I feel clearer and can see the sick patterns. And I know, this is so much better than it was before. I am no longer feeling hustled to cram in binges during every available slot, I don’t lie to my loved ones, I don’t put my body through hell, I am seeing myself clearly and am observing myself honestly for the first time in a long time and whilst I do want to beat myself up for not doing the food abstinence right, part of me just wants to give me a hug and be happy for me and the progress I’ve made.

I am a commitment to balance.

 

I had worked from home on Friday, when I wrote that, and had a relatively good food day, starting with a healthy smoothie and then had gazpacho for lunch.

Kale smoothie with strawberries, oats, cinnamon and buckwheat groats.

Green gazpacho

The gazpacho was delish and the picture here is from the next day, where I had the last bit for lunch, jazzed up with leftover lentils, tomatoes, buffalo mozzarella and hazelnut pesto.

Our friends came round for dinner and I had prepared the gazpacho as an amuse bouche, starter of grilled peach and mozzarella salad alongside some bread and foie gras and as main we had cod wrapped in parma ham with roasted tomatoes and lentils.


The cod was delicious.

Today, Sunday, this is what I wrote:

Yesterday, I was thankful for experiencing compassion, acceptance and a sense of calm after my step 5. I enjoyed a Pilates class, watching a movie snuggled up with Max and loved lying in the sun watching clouds go by. I enjoyed resting in the sofa in a quiet house, aware of my breathing. I am thankful for these moments.

After step 5, I've had a few thoughts reaffirmed. I've had some harder days and then some much better days, I think that's what life is about, riding the waves of our fears and using my tools and program to deal with things that I've previously been unable to deal with healthily. I make mistakes and I learn. I learned that acceptance of who I am, where I am in life, in relationships and what I look like isn't scary, that it's more achievable if I only focus on today and I can make healthy choices to stay healthy today.

Today, I am going to a meeting in Soho, we're having friends come over for lunch and I would like to mow the lawn. My hip and knee still hurt, so whilst I would love to run to the meeting, I believe a gentler walk or cycle might be healthier. I am a commitment to balance today.

 

Summer in Berlin

East Side Gallery in Berlin

Last week around this time, I was getting ready to visit my friends in Berlin. I am totally and utterly in love with that city and would move there if the British Boy hadn't just taken a job in a new company recently and probably needs to stay there for a while. In fairness, he did raise the topic whether he should take the job a few months back and the thought of organizing anything, taking the ball off of my recovery was so scary, that I shut that conversation down pretty quickly.

I digress - Berlin. I loved it. The girls - I feel I need to explain that. To me, having friends is part of what makes my life worth living. Sharing parts of our lives, our hopes, troubles and challenging one another on finding ways to live life more fully sounds oh so pretentious, but that's basically what we do. 'We', that's a group of 5 girls who all, at one point or another, worked together in London. We're four Germans and one Italian. My former boss Sandra is the connector. She was leading a German team in a digital advertising company in London and hired Irene. During Irene's employment, Sonja was hired. I followed in 2005, when Irene had already left but joined us on social outings. Simona, the sole Italian, was working side by side with us and actually lived with Sandra. Sonja, who had been living in Germany (but was on our team), moved to London to be with her then boyfriend, now husband and father of her gorgeous little boy. Before moving in with the British Boy, Irene and I shared a flat and whilst all the Germans have now gone back to the fatherland, Simo is in London with me after several years in India. Still following me?

Anyway, we were quite a close bunch when we were all in the UK - from girly brunches in the neighbourhood, come dine with me-esque dinner parties (there's still an outstanding debate if me, Irene or Simo won), to day trips to Bath and longer holidays to Istanbul, New York and as of late Berlin. As time went on, some of us got engaged, married, moved countries, lost jobs, had babies and keeping in touch, whilst no longer doable on a weekly basis, is a priority for us. We make a point to meet at least once a year and this time it was in Berlin.

Sadly, Simo was unable to join as her 9 month old baby got sick and Sonja, whilst living in Berlin, was facing double trouble with moving house and dealing with her injured husband as well as new-born.

So, it was just Sandra, Irene and myself, and for most of the time, Irene's adorable 3 year old. We came together to celebrate Sandra's pregnancy (also a boy, it seems our coven can only crank out little wieners) and to catch up on life.

We spent hours sitting and having glorious German breakfast. If you are unfamiliar with a German breakfast, behold, for it is a thing of sheer beauty. Fresh bread rolls, a plethora of cold cuts, cheese, smoked salmon, fresh fruit, jams, honey, nutella and fresh coffee - all these things just scream 'leisurely lazy weekend morning'. 



German Breakfast Day1

I could totally go overboard with so much food in front of me! However, being honest with my friends about my food issues, openly asking for their support and texting my food plan to my sponsor helped me stay present and enjoy their company rather than fretting about calories. 

German Breakfast Day2

 

Saturday, we just spent at Irene's before going to a lake for the afternoon and swim. Dinner was a BBQ which I didn't take any pics of. The day went by so quickly and all of a sudden it was Sunday and we had packed our bags and were spending the last few hours touring through a hot and sunny Berlin:


I can only recommend visiting the East Side Gallery which is a part of the preserved Berlin Wall.

After a quick walk along the Wall, we headed over to Treptower Park, which was calm, shady, quiet with tons of space to sit down and rest. I kept telling the girls, had we been in London, we would not have been able to swing a cat in a park with the kind of weather we had. That's what I love about Berlin - it just seems so much more wider, calmer, less crowded.


Insel Berlin in Treptower Park.

For our last meal before we all jetted off again (oh well, that's a complete lie: Sandra actually took the train and Irene just had to drive back to her house for 20 mins), we sat down in a lovely restaurant by the river Spree and ordered salads. 30 degrees was simply too hot for anything other than a cool salad. Mine came with filets of salmon and ocean perch. It was yummy and tied me over until the flight at 7pm.

Fresh crispy salad with juicy, protein packed fish - yum!



Summer holiday part II - Guten Tag Ostsee!

Oh, the Baltic Sea. How could I have forgotten how much I love it? It was amazing. Utterly beautiful, breath-taking, wonderful, relaxing... it was great.

After one week with the British Boy, I ditched him, left him in London and flew to Berlin. My mom picked me up from the airport and we drove the 3 hours to the Baltic Sea, singing along loudly to songs in the radio, talking about life, dreams, hopes and our expectations of the trip.

We stayed at the Ginkgo Mare, which is a bio hotel and offered a fantastic deal that included eco breakfast (think whole wheat rolls, mueslis, yoghurts, fantastic fruits and spreads and lots and lots of herb teas), rental bikes, a lunch package (two whole wheat sandwiches with ham, salami or cheese, a snack, some fruit) as well as a spa treatment for each of us.

It was so relaxing and I felt so taken care of. The first night, we ventured out and went to the Seebruecke, which is the main pier, where the majority of seafood restaurants reside. We hadn't booked and luckily a kind couple agreed to share their table with us, so that we could delve into fresh and delicious food:

Steamed perch with vegetables and a butter shrimp sauce.

The sunset on that first night was unbelievable. I drank in all the colours and the sea air and the sea gulls and felt like I had truly arrived. It was magical.

What colour display!

On our second day, we got to the beach early on our bikes, put up our wind breaker and spend a leisurely day snoozing, reading, jumping into the sea like deranged teenagers and feeling alive in the waves.

Morning beach

There is a wilder, more rugged beach on the West of the peninsula which promises wonderful sunsets, so Mom and I took a couple of bottles of sparkling wine, a picnic and spent the evening watching the sun set over the Baltic Sea.

German Sekt is tasty.

Almost gone.

The next days we spent on our bikes, cycling to close by villages, exploring the area and enjoying either our lunch packages, evening picnics and treated us to a couple of dinners too.


At a restaurant where I forgot to take pictures of the food. Haha, it was good though.

We managed to go to the beach every day and just looking at these pictures transports me back. I feel the fine sand between my fingers, can taste the saltiness of the water and hear the waves endlessly rolling in, sometimes calmly, especially during our early morning swim on the last day, and sometimes with much force and energy. Always never ending.

I can't wait to go back.