Carrying on where I left off

The other day I started writing about my "turning 40 angst" but I got carried away writing about life in my twenties and that was lots of fun and I ended up writing loads so I didn't talk about what's going on right now.

It's true, I am experiencing some angst about that big birthday looming up. Up til now my life makes so much sense but I'm completely baffled as to how the family thing hasn't happened when it's something I'd really love to have. In fact, some of my earliest memories are being aware of how things were at home and thinking "when I have my family I'm going to do things differently". Don't get me wrong, my parents are wonderful people and I love them dearly but when it came to raising children, I'm not sure they gave much thought to how you go about raising children. I'm sure lots of people bring children into this world without giving it much thought, to consider what sort of environment they would like to raise their children in and then create that environment.

Maybe it was because I was a sensitive child, prone to feeling things around me. Coupled that with a pondering mind and you get a child like me. I don't think my sisters were like this because some of the things that I mention, they've been oblivious to. I can see hints of it in my nephew Adil. Once when we were talking, I asked him what he'd like to do when he grew up. He told me that he'd like to be an artist (he is exceptionally gifted already) and sell his paintings in the park but only on weekdays. I asked him what he'd do at the weekend then and he said "I'd spend weekends with my family". I shot a glance at my sister to find out what he meant by that. My sister told me that often she has to work on Saturdays (she's a doctor) and the children don't like it, they want her to be there with them. Instead of moaning or complaining or throwing a tantrum, Adil had worked out a solution for how he'd do something when he grew up, based on how he saw things as a child. That's how I was too.

My adult life has been driven by the desire to get to that place I'd want to be when I was raising a family. It's as much about feeling comfortable with myself and who I am as a person and where I've got to in life before embarking on motherhood. I've got to the place I'd want to be, I didn't give up halfway along because I couldn't be bothered or didn't want to put the effort in. But I wonder if the whole family thing will happen? I'm baffled by the thought that it might not? I'm not sure how that is possible and I'm not prepared to give up the dream but you do think at what point do you go "ok, this isn't going to happen, time to let it go". I believe in the natural laws of the universe and I've seen so many things slot into place in my life but sometimes I do find myself wondering "is the universe so cruel that it would give me everything but deny me the thing I want most?" And my answer is always no, the world just doesn't work like that.

The other thing with always believing that I would one day have a family is that I haven't really thought what I want to do with my life if there isn't a family to take care of, to nurture, to love. How do I fill my time if I always thought that by a certain point, a large chunk of it would be taken up looking after my little family? What do you do if your childhood dream has been about the family you will have and how you will raise them but maybe that dream isn't going to happen? And all your subsequent dreams have been fulfilled? I was on a mission to get to a place where all my boxes had been ticked before a family came on the scene. I've got to that place, what do I do now? If I've got at least twenty years of full-time work ahead of me, what do I want to do? Last year working at the Society got me to a place where I thought "wow, if I never go any higher than this, that's fine by me - this is an amazing place to be". It's a great vantage point to start a family from as you don't have that nagging feeling that you never got to the place you thought you could get to because you had a child and took time out to raise your family.

For anyone reading this who doesn't know me, I think I better add in that I haven't delayed starting a family due to chasing a career dream. I just haven't met the right person. The last time I fell in love, I thought he was the one, I think for a time he did too. For four years I held on to the belief that he was the person for me, but our timing was off as we were both going through a process of turning our lives around to simultaneously get them to a point where we could live together in harmony. Then one evening we were talking, my candle for him still burning bright, and he said a few things that made me think "oh my god, he can't even look after himself, how can he look after me?" Bizarre thing to feel for someone as independent as myself but there you go, that's what I felt. I had this weird sensation that he wasn't "big" enough for me which is a strange thing to feel. I think it was something to do with our different approaches to life. I might be scared stiff about doing something but I will still dive in and do it. He seemed to be scared of life. Deep down inside I think he always knew it, always knew he would never get to that place he was trying to get to. I believed that he would but maybe all along he knew differently. But I've got to give it to him, he tried damn hard and I really thought he'd get there but it just didn't happen. He is a beautiful, gentle cheeky soul who I loved tremendously but that night my candle flickered and went out. And since then, I've not met anyone who I have that connection with. Actually, that's a lie, I have met some where the connection is there but the circumstances are not conducive to anything.

Anyway, there you go, a little about my angst. I think one of the underlying factors behind the email I sent yesterday is the thought in my head that if I don't have my own family and it's going to be mainly about work, I need to feel challenged and fulfilled and as if I am constantly achieving. I don't really have anywhere to go, I've got to wherever I needed to get to but I get very bored if I'm not challenged and I don't do mundane and boring! And I've hurtled along at quite a pace over the last two decades, packing in stacks. Sometimes I feel a bit tired so to maintain the momentum, I need to be incredibly excited about the work I'm doing, it's got to be something that gets my adrenaline going. So lots and lots of things whirling around in my head but you know the funny thing, I still believe it will happen. I still believe that my little dream of that someone special and me, living in our house full of love, laughter and happiness with a few little ones (and maybe some cats and possibly a dog) will still happen. And wow, how amazing will that be when it does happen!

Now I've got to turn my thoughts to organising the party for the big day! It's going to be special - and I get to celebrate it twice. On the day in London and then probably the week after in Ibiza. It's the same day that the Bali project opens, I was told I could celebrate my birthday in Bali but I would have been working and no doubt it would have been stressful and I'd already decided I wanted to celebrate with all my loved ones! I don't work on my birthday!

PS - I was talking to someone yesterday who'd just turned 30. I asked him if he'd had any "turning 30 angst" and he said yes. Then he said "I guess it's not something you're worrying about just yet" - he thought I was a 20-something. When I told him I was a few months off from turning 40, he went "oh my god, you've got menopause coming up!" Well thanks! There's me worrying about if I'm going to have children and he comes out with something like that. Anyway, how can someone like me who still looks about 12 even consider something like menopause, it's an eternity away!

I'm having a *gulp* what have you done? moment....

I haven't really written much about my trip to Marrakech, I certainly haven't written anything about my stay at our riad. I will write more about my Marrakech experience but for the time being, I think I should explain what I have just done to cause my *gulp* moment.

When I was in Marrakech, effectively I was acting as a Consultant, getting to the root cause of what wasn't working and then making suggestions for improvement. As a Consultant, I would also implement the changes needed to make the project become a resounding success. As a Consultant in London, I had a reputation for delivering at the highest level. I'm still that person, I just live in a different place. For any project you need to have one person who is the driving force behind it, who makes it get to where it needs to be, who makes it all happen. That's usually me.

Since my return, I've compiled a 7-page report of what's not quite right about the place. I've been asked how I can help to make the improvements. I've said that I'm happy to act as a Consultant but we need to review terms and conditions - ie what I get paid. I'm not prepared to give away my skills and experience for a pittance. I don't know how this will be received, hence my *gulp* moment. The last few weeks have been a real eye-opener but I'm not going to go into details here. If you're interested in knowing, ask me and I'll tell you in private, it's just not something I will discuss in a public place.

It's one of those moments where afterwards you think "maybe I should have kept my mouth shut" but I know me, I don't keep my mouth shut. I wade in where fools wouldn't dare to tread and say what I think. At times it's caused friendships to end but if I can't express how I'm feeling, it wasn't a friendship worth having. I've walked out of jobs (only twice though) where I wasn't happy with how I was being treated.

The long and short of what I've just done is that either I work as a Consultant for the people (and hell, they could do with someone like me working as a Consultant) and get paid accordingly for it. Or I leave. And maybe go back to London as I'm not sure there's anything else here on the island for me. I need to feel challenged, I need to feel I am constantly achieving, I need to feel there is some purpose to what I do. Without that, I end up feeling rather miserable.....

My favourite song of 2008

Even though I've spent most of this year living in Ibiza, that hotbed of party activity, it didn't feel like I heard that much new music. I had one of those emails from Amazon recommending bands and albums based on past purchases. I didn't recognise one name on the list but at least I have bands to look into.

So I didn't hear that much new music but I have heard some and based on that, I've chosen my favourite song of 2008. This is the first song I want to hear being played once the clock has chimed in the new year for 2009. It was a close call but in at number one is "Paris" by Friendly Fires. Actually the version that I love is the Au Revoir Simone one (the Aeroplane remix). I love the original too and could watch the band performing on Jools Holland over and over again but the remix really does it for me. It's a piece of nu-balaeric wonderfulness with a lovely long piano intro and some cowbell thrown in for good measure. The singer's gentle voice is gorgeous and this is beautiful sunshine music that makes you feel good to be alive. It makes you want to throw your hands in the air and sing along. And for me, it will always remind me of that very special time I lived quite near Paris (of which I've written about already, I think it's in the November posts).

Coming in very close at number two is "Iris" by Hercules and Love Affair. Once again, a beautiful song. Both the albums are my favourite albums of the year but I think Hercules and Love Affair would come in at number one and Friendly Fires would be in at number two. Both bands have a Frankie Knuckles connection. Do you know what it is? Well, the godfather of house did a remix of Blind. And Friendly Fires do an indie cover of "Your Love" - is this the first time that an indie band is showing a nod to their dance music influences?

Feeling excited about the festive season!

Well it's glorious sunshine and blue skies in Ibiza but I'm heading back to London for Christmas and New Year and I'm feeling just a little bit excited about it! Actually very excited about it! According to the BBC website, the weather isn't too bad in London town but I'm sure it's nothing like the beautiful weather we're having here. Not to worry, I'm still excited.

I was a little worried about Christmas earlier this week as normally I spend the day with my older sister and her family. But this year she's buggered off overseas with the children so that option went out of the window. A friend invited me to spend Christmas Day with him but then appears to have changed his mind (without telling me) so I had a moment of panic this week wondering what I was going to do. There are two days in the year that I refuse to be alone as it would be so pitifully sad and those days are Christmas Day and my birthday. Anyway, my lovely friend Sophie is going to take me in for the day and in return she'll get a Christmas present from the shop - if I remember correctly, she loved the gold overnight bag so I'll take that for her.

The festive season kicks off tonight with a last party in Ibiza for me at Grial. It seems like everyone I know is going to be there so naturally I've started to get excited already. Then it's work again tomorrow and back to London tomorrow night courtesy of RyanAir. From the sound of it there's going to be a lot of people I know on the plane heading back and the flight has now been dubbed the Rave Plane. At the other end, it's straight to a party from the airport. I'll have my luggage and presents with me but I'm sure I can stow them away behind the bar or in the DJ booth where my friend Frank Tope will be manning the wheels of steel. There is something a little bit magical about the thought of coming home for Christmas and going straight to a party with all your stuff. If it was snowing and I was in New York, it would feel even more special but there is something about the mass movement of people at this time of year that I absolutely love. I know that lots of people I love will be making journeys at this time of year, going back to their families and old homes. They of course may not relish the prospect of being stuck with their families for a few days but I love the thought of everyone going off and being tucked up with their clan.

I'm excited about spending a couple of weeks back in the UK, hanging out with family and friends, seeing the people that matter the most. I was asked to work over Christmas and New Year, at the riad in Marrakech and I said no. That time around Christmas and New Year is far too special for me to work, it's when I spend time with my loved ones - it would take a lot of money for me to even consider working and even then, I might still say no!

If truth be told.....

.... I hate those birthdays with a nought in them. It's as if they stand like pillars at either end of a decade, so big and momentous and solid. You end up looking at your life so far and even if it's been brilliant (which it has), you end up focussing on the things that haven't happened and you thought they would have. By now.

Actually turning twenty was fine, although I bet I was probably worrying about how my life would turn out. I felt wise beyond my years then when in fact I was quite naive and looked about 12 years old. But I was cool as I'd bought my first car while still 19 and it was a lovely bright red Volkswagen Beetle so I'd hurtle around town feeling like I was the best. I wanted to be the girl from the song "The Boys of Summer" but I didn't have a convertible. My car was still very cool and I had the Raybans and the hair pulled back to make me believe I was her. There was something about buying your first car while still a teenager that appealed to my need to have milestones with ticks beside them.

Me and my friend James would sit there for hours, drinking tea and eating Galaxy (we were such rebels back then!) and talking about life and how it all worked. We thought we knew everything and actually I had a fairly strong philosophy on life and apparently I was one of the most driven and determined little things that people had come across. I'd read an article by some old guy called Tom who used to write for Cosmopolitan (back in the days when Cosmopolitan was a brilliant magazine) and the article said something along the lines of "trust your feelings, follow your soul, you have the power to realise your dreams". It talked about implenting change in your life and being brave and all these things that made sense to me. I made James read it too! So, we thought we knew it all, that we had all the answers (courtesy of Tom's article - of which the best bits I still have, carefully handwritten in an old diary full of wise words) but we had zero life experience to put into practice what we believed.

I was truly curious to see how things would turn out. I'd been told that I could achieve anything I put my mind to (apart from my A levels which I failed miserably first time round and just scraped through the second time round). So a part of me wondered if that was actually true? Could I achieve anything I put my mind to? Did I have what it takes? And another part of me was secretly scared that somebody had convinced me about something that wasn't actually true and I'd find out the hard way when my life didn't work out, or at best, ended up being something average and mediocre (quite possibly my worst nightmare). So my debut into my 20s was excitement peppered with some drops of anxiety in case it didn't quite turn out how I believed it might.

My 20s were also the time to go off and do the things that might be more difficult once a family was in the picture. I first fell in love when I was 23. He was a few years older than me and at a stage in life where he was ready to settle down, have babies and that sort of stuff. I was still at university and wanted to live my life a little without someone else in tow. I skipped away from that without a backwards glance. If anyone had told me how difficult it is to meet someone who is really special, I might have done things differently. Or maybe not. But back then, I really did think amazing people were always around the corner. Actually I know that amazing people are always around the corner, I always manage to meet them wherever I go. But amazing people you fall in love with a really few and far between.

It was also interesting to see how I viewed my life would be by the time I was 30. I used to think that by then, I'd have the high-flying career, a penthouse suite, a designer car, a designer boyfriend and I'd be wearing sharp black trouser suits, with my hair pulled back into a slick ponytail. Obviously I imagined that the girl from the song (who of course I was) had just grown up a bit.....

I hated turning 30! It was like this milestone looming up and I didn't feel that I'd quite got to the place I'd expected to be. But life in the twenties hadn't followed that usual pattern of university followed by the start of a career. During my university days, I'd had the opportunity to live overseas and loving the experience, I wanted to do this again after graduating. I had two paths I could have followed - going to live overseas or embarking on a career as a foodservice design consultant (someone who designs back and front of house in hotels and restaurants). I'd spent my final year at university working with a consultancy, my dissertation was all about the role of design in high quality restaurants and I had the opportunity to join the consultancy after I graduated. But I felt too young to be starting a proper career.

I felt like a fraud. I don't know why because I was good at the work and obviously design is something that I have as an inbuilt gift. But I just didn't feel ready to hold my own in grown-up meetings and I was concerned I might get discovered as a fraud. It may have something to do with the fact that I still looked like I was under 18 (I got asked my age once in a supermarket when I was buying a bottle of wine for a friend. I was 24 at the time). I didn't think anyone would take me seriously because I still looked like a teenager. Now it's great as I still look a lot younger than I am and when I ever need to run through what I've done in my glittering career, you can see people doing the mental arithmetics trying to work out how old I am because there's no way I could have crammed all that in by the time I was 30!

So instead of embarking on the start of a career, I chose to run off to Japan to teach English and ended up there for three years. My dad has always said to me that if any opportunity comes your way, you should grab it and go for it (not quite these words, my dad doesn't speak like this and anyway, he'd be saying all of this in Urdu to me) because you never know if that opportunity will present itself to you again. Well this is what happened with Japan and off I went. After 3 years I came back and returned to university to embark on an MA in International Relations. It was difficult studying a subject I hadn't done since before O Levels but I loved it, relished the challenge of being thrown a topic I knew nothing about and then doing the research, finding out what it was all about, writing an essay, composing my answer. I'd always wanted to do a Masters but I didn't know in what subject. A diary I kept for a short time back in '91 when I went on a student exchange to the University of Denver talked about that desire then, but at that time it was angling towards an MBA. Now I'd found a subject that I loved. I even considered it as a PhD but didn't want to start my working life with a big debt over my head so I discarded that idea.

There was another reason for doing an academic MA at a "proper" university. Although I'd done well when I did my degree and came out with a 2:1, the whole episode of failing my A levels had left me feeling a bit thick. I'm not, I'm quite an intelligent person but in early adulthood, all you really have is your academic achievements to tell the world what sort of person you are. If you've failed something academically, you may end up feeling less intelligent than you are. Doing the Masters was a way of eradicating these feelings, of proving to myself that I was intelligent. And it worked! The funny thing is, when you're in your late teens, early twenties, that's how everyone sizes up everyone else. I have a wonderful friend B who jokingly refers to me as her idol because she is so inspired by my "get up and go and don't let anything stand in your way" attitude. But if she'd met me at the time of the A level failure, she would have thought less of me as a person as I hadn't proved myself to be academically brilliant!

I need to interject at this point. This was meant to be a post about me talking about how much I hate big birthdays. Instead I'm filling in the reader about various aspects of me and my life, all very positive - I started off feeling a bit crap when I started writing this but now I'm feeling pretty fabulous as I look back over the adventure that has been my life so far. Blogging can make you feel better!

Anyway, after that digression, I return to my twenties. After the Masters, I finally embarked on the start of a career at the ripe old age of 28. So it wasn't surprising that by the time 30 was on the horizon, I hadn't quite got to be the person I thought I would be. Thing is, I'd never be that person, it's not me. It doesn't represent what I feel is important in my life, it's far too materialistic and shallow, I guess it was just an image I thought I would be. Maybe it was how I defined "success" when I was 20, by the things you had attained in your life, not about the experiences you had had.

So, I found myself turning 30 living in a shabby but loved rented flat, working at the Foreign Office in a job that didn't really challenge me and I was aching to prove how wonderful and amazing I was! I reluctantly organised a party for my 30th, I felt I had to do something to mark the occasion. But honestly speaking, the way I was feeling about it all, I think I would have preferred to hibernate that birthday out as I didn't feel like I had much to celebrate. On top of all of this, my younger sister had just got engaged. Although I'd always known that my younger sister would get married before me, when it actually presented itself a reality, I did have an "oh my god, even my younger sister has a more together life than I do!" moment.

I had the party at my shabby but lovely rented flat. It was good to see my friends there. I can't remember who was actually there and I'm not sure I have photos of the event to nudge my memory. The thing I do remember is that even though I didn't enjoy my birthday as I hated turning 30, I loved the day after the party. My best friends had stayed over and on the Sunday we had a love-in on the futon in the living room, eating pizza from across the road and listening to wonderful tunes. It was pouring with rain and you could hear it drumming on the roof but we were all tucked up and happy. Before you think there was something untoward going on, the love-in was completely innocent. I think about six of us all clambered onto the futon that doubled up as a bed. We were all fully clothed but all got under the bed clothes and ate pizza in bed. Daryl was the only boy in the group and obviously he loved being surrounded by all these gorgeous girls. However Jayne might not have been feeling so gorgeous as she'd been horrendously ill the night before and was still a touch fragile. This is the moment I really loved. I was surrounded by some of my loveliest friends (and they are all still a part of my life so I am blessed with wonderful friendships), eating pizza and listening to great music. It was pouring with rain outside so the best place to be was inside and I loved it, truly loved it! So it seems as if once I got the big 3-0 out of the way, including the official "party", I could really start enjoying the decade.

This post has gone off on a tangent but I've really enjoyed writing it. I'll come back tomorrow to fill in on my 30s (which I may have done already on my birthday post from this year) and discuss why I feel so baffled about turning 40!

Marrakech - Part One

I was going to blog from Marrakech but the internet connection at the riad was being tempermental so I had to leave it. Instead I scribbled down notes to help keep things fresh in my mind, to help me remember the details when I found the opportunity to blog again.

As soon as I stepped out of the plane, standing at the top of the stairs, I smelt the air. Whenever I arrive in a new place by plane, I always like to get out of the plane and feel the air on my face, see what temperature it is, what it smells like, if it reminds me of anything. It's always great going somewhere hot as you feel the rise in temperature, the heat and humidity as soon as you step out.

When you arrive in Marrakech, you have to fill in an immigration form. I'm not sure why they don't give you this on the plane, as so many other nations do. It was only when you went into the airport terminal that you found the forms that needed to be filled in. Once filled in, you had to turn back on yourself and get in line to see one of the immigration officials. When it was my turn, they asked me a strange question "What is your country of origin?" - they asked me this when I was leaving too. What is this meant to mean? The country I was born in? The country my parents were born in? The country they went to as refugees after the partition of India? I answered Pakistan but I'm not sure that's the correct answer but they didn't seem too bothered by my answer and I could leave and go to collect my luggage.

Waiting at the baggage carousel, there was that rising sense of panic when it became obvious that all the luggage had been emptied onto the belt but my suitcase wasn't there. I watched the suitcases of various shapes and sizes pass before me but no glimpse of my own. As I waited there, mentally going through the process of reporting my suitcase lost, I looked over to the right and there I saw lying on the ground, my suitcase. I don't know if it had tumbled off the carousel or if someone had picked it off thinking it there's but I did wonder why the people surrounding my suitcase hadn't put it back onto the carousel. Anyway, I collected my case and stepped into the main airport to meet the driver who would take me to the riad. In the airport, if you look up to the ceiling, it looks like some Daliesque melting candles but the effect is pleasing, in a spaceship kind of way - it reminded me of the airport in Osaka.

As we left the airport and headed for the riad, straightaway you noticed the increase in 2 and 3 wheel vehicles, weaving their way thorough the traffic. You'd see complete families perched on a scooter, putt-putting along. As I peered into vehicles going past, I noticed a lot of sheep enjoying their last day on the planet. As we sped along, it dawned on me that Marrakech reminded me of Karachi but instead of toffee-colour buildings, they were generally salmon pink. And of course the Atlas Mountains in the distance which you don't have in Karachi. The driver chatted away in French and I felt glad that I'm multi-lingual and could understand what he was saying and engage in conversation. Without speaking French, I would have been lost.

Barcelona

I'm in Barcelona for the night before flying to Marrakech tomorrow morning. When I arrived this afternoon, the streets around my hotel seemed eerily quiet as if something had just ended and everyone had left. I'm staying in a hotel not far from the place I stayed in when I was in Barcelona in April. I know this because I can see the same Gaudi building from this hotel window as I could from the other. Thankfully this hotel is of a much higher calibre than the other place, which to this day remains the place where I had the worst night's sleep. Probably because I didn't get any sleep at all. That place (which was actually a hostel) was terrible - I ended up sharing a room with 5 others of which 4 snored terribly (the worst being a girl) and the heating was turned up so high you would have thought that a blizzard was raging outside. You couldn't open a window to let any cold air in, you couldn't turn the heating down and I couldn't sleep due to the cacophony of snoring - it was like an out-of-time orchestra, full of wind instruments.

Anyway the current hotel is far better and I don't have to share the room with anyone else. I would describe the style as modern, all walnut brown wood and muted greys, against a backdrop of white. It's lovely but now I find this modern look so bland and boring. You can't find fault with it but it really doesn't have any character, any heart or soul. If it was a person, it would be that good-looking guy who turns out to be incredibly dull. And I've said guy instead of girl as it's a very masculine room. I look at the room and I want to inject some texture or colour or pattern into it, something to bring it to life. There's nothing really to capture your interest, no surfaces tempting you to run your hands over them, no visual or tactile pleasure. My leather tassle bag is the sole item bringing a bit of character to the room. On closer inspection I did notice that the wallpaper was made up of millions of ridges, like very fine corrugated paper and I immediately ran my hands over it. But you need to get quite close to see the textured quality, a metre away it looks like a plain white wall.

When I arrived in the room, I did what I always do when I arrive in a hotel room for the first time. I dumped my bags and went into the bathroom to see what that was like and to see if there were any goodies there. Once again, clean and modern but overall bland. I glanced over the toiletries, opened the bottles, had a sniff and ear-marked the items I'm going to take with me. I don't actually need anything but I liked the smell of the green tea shower gel and shampoo so those bottles will be finding their way into my suitcase. The soap smelled too normal to lift so that can stay.

After checking in, I went to find some food and catch up on the Sunday papers. I read about that woman Karen Matthews who was behind the abduction of her own daughter. It really makes you wonder what British society has come to. Last week I read about a man who made his own daughters pregnant so he could claim more child benefits, and this week this woman not fit to be a mother, orchestrating the disappearance of her own daughter so that she could "find" her and claim the reward money. Anyway, I ate and read the papers and then had an argument in Spanish about the bill as they charged me two euros for a bit of butter and alioli. It's a bit steep, particularly when a big basket of bread cost half that and most places don't charge for these things, it's quite normal to have alioli with your bread here (but maybe not butter). It was a pleasant experience arguing in Spanish as I could see how much progress I had made - I don't think the waiter was impressed when I called him a robber but in my head, I was just practicing my languange skills with a real-life situation.

I'm off to hear some live music tonight, meeting up with a friend who lives in the city. And then it's up bright and early tomorrow morning for the next leg of the journey - onward bound to Marrakech!

So I finished the book...

I went home last night and spent the evening reading "The Kite Runner", finishing it at around half ten. Once again, I have to say, what a wonderful book. Beautifully written, the story draws you in but doesn't give anything away until you read it. There were twists and turns and I didn't see any of them coming until I read them. It gave the book a depth that perhaps other books don't have. It made me think back to when I read "The Inheritance of Loss", a book I really didn't enjoy even though it had won the Booker prize. Not that that should be an indication of enjoyment, that's far too much a personal thing. In the second book, there were similarities, master and servant, the lives of their descendants - but I didn't find an engaging story to capture the imagination. It may have evoked emotions but I don't remember any, apart from feeling bored at the somewhat tedious storyline. It didn't really feel like it went anywhere, the lives of the characters weren't inter-twined or if they were, it was so loosely that they bore no relation on each other.

I found myself dissecting the paragraphs, searching for what made them so compelling. There's more to a wonderful book than the story being told. The author's power of description was inspiring, it made me realise that a picture or photo may capture something but could you describe that same thing when you had words alone? When you see something that moves you, can you describe what it is that evokes that emotion? Can you make a reader feel what you're feeling? Once again I was reminded of the power of words and once again I found myself wishing I was more gifted in the art of putting words together. As I'm leaving for Marrakech on Monday, I've decided that in addition to taking photos, I'll see if I can describe the sights and sounds I witness with words alone.

The story was simple, spanning three generations but the characters few. A single act had bound lives together, led characters to act and behave in a particular manner, secrets being taken to the grave. How many families have their own stories like this? How much do we know, really know of the people who consist of our family members? I spent a lot of time last year with extended family members, my aunts, a cousin and all we did was talk. I had conversations that I'd wanted to have for many years but had been at a loss as to who to have them with. Friends are wonderful but no-one really knows the mechanics of a family apart from those who reside within it. It was like putting a jigsaw puzzle together, putting in the pieces and the picture starting to make a little more sense. I've always been curious about the world around me, what makes one person act like this and another act like that? There were things I wanted to understand about my own family but didn't have the answers. As a family we don't really talk or communicate, there is little desire to understand why things are the way they are, better to just let them be how they are. Having these conversations with extended family members helped me to gain a greater understanding but it would have been just as easy not to have had the conversations at all. But for me I need to understand and maybe, just maybe, this is the reason why I enjoyed this book so much.

The Kite Runner

The Kite Runner was one of the books I was going to take to Marrakech with me. But I finished the other book I was reading so picked this book up earlier this week. What a beautiful book, Khaled Hosseni is a wonderful story-teller and you just want to carry on reading to see what happens next. It's not often that you pick up a book that you just don't want to put down again until the end. All I want to do is curl up with a cup of tea, some chocolate and the book. I remember when I read Anna Karenina, it was exactly the same. For some reason I didn't think I'd enjoy the book, I didn't think I'd like a Russian literary masterpiece but how wrong I was. I wanted to cancel everything in my diary, work included, and just read. Books like this are just wonderful!

Back to The Kite Runner. I really enjoy books that, although fictional, weave in history with the tale so you learn something too. I think that's one of the reasons I enjoyed Midnight's Children so much, I actually learnt a lot about the partition of India and the creation of Pakistan through reading the book. The Kite Runner is a beautiful story of friendship and betrayal, the sticky father-son relationship, cowardice and courage. It's made me cry a few times already but thankfully not the blubbing sort that I did when I read Captain Corelli's Mandolin.

I also love books that embrace countries and cultures, where you read about peoples' lives once they've left their homeland and moved to the west (usually America or Britain), how they adapt, the things that bind them together, the strength and courage they display in their new lives. I guess my love of books like these is because it's my background also, two cultures, two lives, two worlds.

Marrakech

I'm off to Marrakech next week for work. I'm not sure what exactly I'm going to be doing while I'm there (I was going to chat about it with Alberto but he ran out of time before leaving for Bali yesterday and this is just one of the things left incomplete.....) but I will definitely spend a bit of time seeing how things are run at the riad and see where and how I can make improvements.

I arrive on Monday and Tuesday is Eid-al-Adha. Although we celebrate this as a family in London, this will be the first time that I'm experiencing eid in an Islamic country. I'm really looking forward to seeing what happens. I didn't know for sure the significance of this religious festival so a few minutes on google pointed me in the right direction. Eid-al-Adha is also known as the Festival of Sacrifice and commemorates Ibrahim's willingness to sacrifice his son for Allah. Just as he is about to sacrifice his beloved son, he is stopped and a lamb or goat is sacrificed instead. Each family sacrifices a lamb/goat and the meat is split into three - one part for the poor, one part for neighbours and relatives and the final part to be eaten at home. Eid-al-Adha occurs on the day after Hajj pilgriims descend from Mount Arafat.

I think it's going to be quite an experience being in Marrakech for Eid. I've been told that the day before, everywhere you look there are men taking their lambs or goats home. You can even go and buy your beast in the local supermarket. It reminds me a bit of when we first went to Pakistan when I was about 4 or 5. As Muslim children, you also have a goat slaughtered in your name (or something like that, I'm not sure what exactly this is about and whether it's religious or cultural). Anyway, three goats were brought to my uncle's house where we were staying for me and my two sisters. Being an animal lover, I got very attached to my goat who if I remember correctly had a pink tuft on his forehead (probably dyed). Imagine my horror when I then saw my pet goat slaughtered in front of me! Funny thing is, I don't remember crying about it which is strange because a few years later when I watched the film "Ring of Bright Waters" in which an otter gets killed (and you don't see it getting killed, you just know it has), I was inconsolable and cried all night. Watching my pet goat get killed also didn't turn me into a vegetarian but maybe I didn't put two and two together, working that what I ate later was probably my pet.....

Anyway, I'm going to be blogging from Marrakech, complete with pictures. This will be the first time I go anywhere truly exotic in six years so looking forward to being immersed in a throughly different culture for a little while. I guess I'll be doing some work too. One thing I definitely want to do is try out a hammam (a bit like a Turkish bath). We've got a private hammam at the riad so I'm going to check that out and get a massage as well. You have to sample the goods before you can try and sell them to others!

On the move. Again....

I'm going to move into the new place today. It was meant to happen yesterday but the van broke down again on Saturday night when I was in Ibiza town so I abandoned it there and it got picked up and fixed today. So now I'm with wheels, I can move.

As I'm still keeping my other place (so now I'll have two homes as well as two lives, two cultures etc), I'm only taking essentials with me. Packing took exactly twenty minutes - I bet I don't really miss all the things I leave behind. All this moving around is making me really hanker after pared-down living. I'd love to whittle down what I really need and just live with that. I thought I was pretty good in London, regularly decluttering but when I was last in London, I was on the hunt for some essential papers packed away in my parents loft. Although I'd marked my boxes, I still wasn't sure which box my papers were in so I had to go through the lot. I was amazed at the amount of rubbish packed in the boxes. What was I thinking? I can only imagine that in my panic to get packed up before I left London, I stuffed things into boxes instead of taking the time to go through things, sorting out what I needed and what could go. So far, the only things I've missed while I've been here are my books (as well as my friends) and that's been fixed with lots of new reading material that should keep me satisfied for the next few months.

Hopefully it shouldn't take too long to get settled into the new place. I didn't really get properly settled into my other flat due to trips oversees and things needing to be done and not getting done. I'm not good if my home environment is unsettled as it has a knock-on effect on my quality of life. So new home and it's all change once again! I've started telling people about the new place so hopefully I'll have lots of visitors - I was concerned I was turning into a bit of a hermit. It's easily done when you live and work in the same place and work a lot! I'll post some photos once I'm settled in!

The world works in mysterious ways.....

I ended up staying at work til around ten last night and then went home and promptly went to bed. This is all due to the lack of heating. After my last post, I think I started feeling more and more fed-up. I hadn't been paid for a while so was down to less than a euro in my purse, I was cold but not as cold as I'd have been if I'd been in my flat. Alberto and Yvonne dropped into the shop at around nine, a bit surprised to find me still there. They must have thought I was very diligent still working until that time - until the penny dropped that I was still there as it was warm and my flat is freezing cold. As the flat is actually rented by Alberto and I sub-let from him, he's meant to be sorting things out there for me. But he has so much on his plate that my place is pretty low down on the priority list. Anyway, I did get a bit grumpy and make a point about no heating, no money. I don't usually do this but frankly I was pretty fed-up.

This morning when I came into work, Alberto said "listen I've been thinking, why don't you move into one of the villas over the winter. It's going to get very cold and they have central heating and are empty at the moment". So once again, I'm going to be on the move (well tomorrow morning). I'm going to leave the bulk of my stuff in the flat and just take essentials with me to the villa. It's not bad, a 3-bedroom, 3-bathroom stunning villa! And it's got an oven which means I can bake and roast and do things like that which is great! Now all I have to do is let my London friends know so they can come and visit while I'm living in such luxury!

It's really cold here!

It might have been quite sensible to check what the weather does in Ibiza in the winter before moving out here. Actually, that's a silly sentence as I've never looked into the weather before going to live somewhere. Although anywhere that had a lot of dark or grey would probably not do very well in attracting me.

Anyway, winter seems to be on its way and it's pretty cold. This isn't helped by the fact that I haven't got any heating in my flat, apart from a small electric heater in the bathroom. I was given a couple of electric heaters but the electricity in the flat is not geared up for that type of heater (or maybe it's just not geared up to too many things being plugged in at the same time). In the last couple of weeks, the electricity has gone out three times and we've been plunged into darkness - this seems to happen when myself and my neighbours all put on a light and maybe switch one other appliance on too. The electricity set-up is a bit rubbish....

We do have heating at work though. Sadly this means that I'm now staying at work later and later as it's so cold in the flat I don't want to go home. I've lost count of the number of times I've made dinner still wearing my coat. And then I find myself thinking "I'm cold, I can't get warm so I might as well go to bed" - and it's only 8 o'clock! Hopefully over this week-end, we'll get some gas heaters for my flat and I can resume normal life again! I did a whole load of washing this week and then found I couldn't get my clothes to dry as they were just hanging there in the cold. I think I'm going to have to iron everything just to get it dry!

After getting cold a few times at night, I brought my winter duvet over from London. It made such a difference and I started sleeping well again. But the last couple of nights, the temperature has plummeted and two nights on the trot, I found myself waking up cold and not being able to get back to sleep again. Last night, I went to bed wearing layers. This is similar to the look I've perfected for the daytime but not quite so many layers. I hate having to wear anything at night but it's become necessary. So last night I went off to bed wearing jogging pants, a t-shirt and a big fleece. I had a wonderful night's sleep - being warm and snuggly is the way to go!

So easily pleased, it doesn't take much!

After quite a few days of feeling very unexcited about work due to all the recent stuff that's happened, something happened today to turn that all around and get me feeling pretty excited again!

Alberto and Yvonne got back from Marrakech last night and I had an impromptu meeting with them this morning. I can't remember if I've previously mentioned the various projects they have on the go but at present, they have their villas in Ibiza as well as the interiors shop, the riad in Marrakech, a boutique hotel opening in Bali, a plot of land on some island off Bali where they're going to build a beach-front hotel and a small hotel opening in the north of Ibiza. They also have a house on the hill here that they will be doing up and their own house which will also be done up in the next year or so.

After the last couple of weeks, it really felt like they were spreading themselves too thin and some things were not being done properly. Or they'd leave people to take care of things once they'd moved on to the next project and things would flounder. I was getting increasingly concerned about the fact that I'm supposed to now be Alberto's right hand girl but I wasn't sure if the message was getting through that they need to do more than create amazing interiors, they have to make sure all the operations are in place for everything to function really well.

Anyway, I trotted off to the meeting with them this morning, unaware what it was going to be about. They presented me with a document prepared by the management company that has been enlisted to help with the Bali project. The document was about five pages long and went into minute detail on every aspect that needs to be considered for the opening of the project, including staff recruitment and training. It made my heart sing to see this! They asked me to prepare a similar document for the hotel in Ibiza. I literally left that meeting skipping (or maybe that was the two cafe con leches I had) - all the things I was trying to emphasise the significance of were in the document. I've spent the best part of the day making our own version of the document for the Ibiza project, it was time-consuming but what a joy! We've now got a framework to follow, to see what needs to be done and what is still outstanding. I'm not sure what my role (if any) will be with this project - Alberto asked me if I wanted to manage the hotel but I declined, saying that it was something I could have done fifteen years ago. But I'm more than happy to get involved with getting it all set up and making it all work!

We're also going to use the document for any future projects (and use it as a point of reference for things already established). At last, the challenge seems a little less daunting.....

Paris

I was listening to the Friendly Fires album last night and on there is a song called "Paris". It took me back to 1992 and the time I lived close enough to Paris to make regular visits. It was a special time, a magical time, not only because Paris is such a beautiful city but also because I fell in love for the first time then.

The wonderful thing about falling in love for the first time is that you really have no idea how it's going to feel until it happens. You have no idea how you're going to act or behave, the sides of your personality you'll see that you've never seen before. This much I know though, falling in love really does feel like you're falling, uncontrollably, giddily, wonderfully, happily falling.....

I think what made it all the more special was the fact that I thought I had been in love before. I'd known James since I was 17, we'd been best friends and he'd been amazing at a particular time in my life. I have many fond memories of a wonderful friendship. But we made the mistake of going out. I think it was a knee-jerk reaction on his part to my announcement that I was going to study in the States. Suddenly we were an item when in previous discussions, we'd decided to just be friends. It was very serious very quickly. I thought I was in love, I think he did too. But deep down inside, something just didn't feel right. I couldn't put my finger on it but something felt wrong. I went off to America and once there, we got more and more serious and decided to get married. But all the time, I had that horrible gnawing feeling inside of me that something was just not right. And the worst thing about going out with your best friend? When you need to talk about things like this, you can no longer talk to your best friend. At the end of my time in the States, I came back to London. On the one hand I was delighted to see him, on the other hand I felt scared and nervous and apprehensive but I didn't know why. We made plans to get married, set a date for the muslim wedding and then he met someone else. It broke my heart and it felt like my whole world had just crumbled to pieces and my dad threatened to kill him if he ever saw him again! I think it really upset my dad as he saw his strong, fiercely independent daughter fall to pieces in his arms, my mum could cry with me, my dad couldn't.

Anyway, about eight months later I went off to France on a work placement for university, still nursing a bruised heart and wondering why it had all happened. I was shy and quiet and kept myself to myself in the chateau where I was working. One evening I was sat on my own in the staff cafe, head engrossed in a book. D also worked at the chateau and walked past me. I think he felt sorry for me, sat there all on my own, no doubt looking a bit forlorn. He was on his way to Paris to meet friends for a drink and to play pool. He invited me along and I happily said yes as I've always loved Paris (well ever since I first visited when I was 16).

We went to Paris and played pool and on the drive back to the chateau we got talking, really talking. We were so engrossed in our conversation that once we pulled into the chateau car park, we sat there for another couple of hours continuing the conversation. I have no idea what exactly we talked about but I remember for the first time in my life feeling like I'd just met someone I really, truly connected with. There were similarities in our personalities, we looked at the world and dealt with things in the same way. Although our childhoods were different, there were things that felt the same, particularly the way we looked at things. I was reading a lot of books on the world and how it works trying to gain some understanding, he was reading the same books in French! I came away reeling, thinking "we've got to go out again" - I think I forced him into asking me out on a date (unheard of for me) as he was being fairly nonchalant about the whole thing, very galllic!

We went out on a date and very quickly ended up falling crazily, madly head over heels in love. I realised that I had never fallen in love with James because it had never come anywhere close to what I was feeling then. There was a joyful magic in seeing yourself falling in love, seeing the person that you are when it happens. I thought I'd behave in a particular way, cool and independent - I couldn't have been more wrong but it felt fine! We had a magical, special few months together, with numerous trips to Paris. We'd wander for hours through the city, hand in hand, dropping into cafes along the way. I remember running through the rain, I think we were on the way to a party at someone's house. And I remember a particularly romantic date in the most unromantic of places - McDonalds on the Champs Elysee. Maybe in Paris, everything takes on a romantic glimmer.....

It's been over six years since I last visited the beautiful city. The next time I fall in love I'm going to whisk that special person straight over to Paris!

Nature or nurture?

I've always wondered about the nature vs nurture debate - whether who we are and how we are is based on our genes or our environment? In recent years, I've come to the conclusion that our genes play a significantly larger part in it all, with the environment playing a smaller but still important role. But then I look at my siblings and for one family to produce four such different people leaves me baffled. We all have the same genes and yet we've turned out so differently?

But when I look at myself, I can see where elements of my personality have come from. My love of interiors, of nature, of all things beautiful come from my mum's middle sister. I'd love to have her grace and poise, she has the elegance of Audrey Hepburn which I aspire to - but when I told my friend Simone this, she said "you'll never be like Audrey Hepburn, you're far too cheeky!" I don't mind that, I like being cheeky! And where does that cheekiness come from? It comes from my dad. My outspokeness comes from my dad's youngest sister. Everyone says that my younger sister is like my aunt but I don't see it like that. My aunt is outspoken and she will say what she thinks, my sister is argumentative and dramatic so in fact quite different. If I have any tact and diplomacy, it comes from my dad's oldest sister but I think it's difficult to combine outspokeness and tact and diplomacy - on occasions where my friends have remained quiet about something, I'll open my mouth and say what I think! A few friendships have disintegrated because of this outspokeness but I guess it's a good test of who your friends are and who aren't.

I can also pinpoint defining moments that have played an enormous part in who I am - these are the environmental factors that have influenced me. I've always been driven and determined, as if I've been on a mission to get somewhere, to be someone - and it's got to be the best (based on what is the best for me). This has come from a deep-seated desire not to live in my older sister's shadow all my life. When we were growing up, she was the golden child, the one who was going to become the doctor and live out my dad's dreams. She was brainy and beautiful and sporty and musical - in fact, someone once said to me when I was a child "Your sister is the brains and the beauty in this family" - erm thanks, that's very encouraging! But thank the lord I wasn't one of those "poor me" types (otherwise known as a victim) as I'd have just let that all make me feel very sorry for myself and quite possibly not achieve anything at all. When you're busy playing the role of victim, all your energy goes into that whereas if you diverted it into something far more positive, you'd probably do quite well!

I always thought I was the same as her, eventhough I went through quite a gawky phase that lasted about a decade (from 7 to 17), I was skinny and had buck teeth and a face that didn't quite work. I wasn't very good at team sports and couldn't sing but I was pretty brainy so that was something. But it came as a bit of a shock when in my final year at junior school we were getting ready to put on the school play (in French). Four years previously, my older sister had the starring role as the inn-keeper's wife with lots of lines in French. I assumed I would also get that same role, I was all prepared to be given that role. Imagine my shock when I found out my part in the play was that of a dog, and all I had to say was "woof woof!" I came down to earth with a bump! Looking back it's all quite amusing and if things like this made me driven and determined, then they're no bad thing!

I've always been seen as fiercely independent but that can be traced back to incidents in my growing-up years that made me think "if you want to be sure of something, do it yourself". If I wanted to better my life, it was up to me to do it - relying on anyone else might lead to disappointment. Of course this is one of life's very important lessons - to take responsibility for your own life. There were certain things I wanted to see in my adult life so I took responsibility for them, instead of relying on someone else to provide them for me. That's not to say it doesn't work, I'm sure there are some people who would provide everything for you but I'd rather know that I can look after myself before I let anyone else look after me.

Anyway, I've gone off on a complete tangent because the thing I wanted to actually discuss here, within the parameters of the nature/nurture debate is this:

"High standards, attention to detail - can you learn this or are some people born with it and others not?"

I know I have high expectations when it comes to work and I pay attention to the details. But was I born with this or did I learn it? I know I've been taught high standards in my first few years of work. It started when I was twelve and I was working at the local riding school. We were taught how to do things properly, our yard was always immaculate, we'd spend hours cleaning and polishing tack and grooming the horses and ponies. Everyone was on time for work (a few of us would even be there an hour early), perhaps we were taught excellent work ethics and attitude at the riding school. When I got my first proper part-time job, working in the restaurant of the Crown and Greyhound in Dulwich Village, Barbara the manageress taught me how to do things properly there. She was an ex-Playboy Bunny and if there was one place where high standards were expected and maintained, it was at Playboy.

To me, it seems as if I learnt these qualities when I started work. But maybe they'd been there already, lying dormant, looking for an environment where they could surface. Up til then, life at home had been chotic and messy, if there were any standards, they weren't very high. So, the question is, was I born with these things or did I learn them? And the reason I ponder this is because with our recent problems with our riad in Marrakech, I've got to train our general manager in the standards that need to be met and maintained. But is it something you're either born with or not or is it something that can be learnt? Is it just a question of showing someone how to do things so they can carry on once you're gone or is it really a case of some people have it and others don't so no matter how much you show someone, if they just aren't at that level or they just don't get it, you'll find it difficult to make them understand. Oh well, I'm out there in a couple of weeks and fingers crossed I do manage to get this message across!

Two lives

I've had two trips to London in the past month. On the first trip, I felt this lovely warm sensation of having two lives, one here in Ibiza and the other in London. It's as if I have a foot in both and can move seamlessly between the two. It appears to be the case in my life. I grew up with two cultures and although in my late teens (when I was seen as a rebel) I was a terrible embarrassment to the Pakistani community and possibly my family, I now feel that I do have a foot in each and once again move seamlessly between the two. I don't really socialise within the Pakistani community (no doubt they would all look at me with pity because I'm not married and wonder why that was) but I do have some very close connections with various family members and that's good enough for me.

I have a strong sense of who I am and where I came from and the much bigger picture that goes before me. But I also fit in very comfortably on the British side so in a way, I've got the best of both worlds. I remember when I was going through that rebellious phase, I felt as if I didn't really belong in one culture but wasn't sure that the other culture would accept me. I wondered if I'd end up in some strange no-man's land, stuck between two cultures but not belonging to either. Luckily things worked out in my favour and I've now got two very different cultures that I reside within.

It's the same with work. My decade-long career in London saw me doing two vastly different things - being an international relations consultant and interiors. When I did just one, I'd miss the other. It's as if I need both to satisfy different parts of me and I'm at my happiest when I'm moving between the two. My time in London also had another angle, that of a party girl. For eight or nine years, I went to some of the best parties that London had to offer but that party-loving streak was combined with a fiercely professional head. Consequently I never let my weekends creep over into Monday morning. Although some wonky occasions on a school night did result in me being at work the next day in body but not necessarily in mind. But my weekends and my weekdays were kept far apart.

Returning to this sensation of having two lives, one in Ibiza, one in London, when you have this kind of existence, it's lovely because you see the best in both. I love the vast rugged beauty of the island, beauty of the natural kind, not nature manicured to perfection. It's the sort of beauty I love, natural, organic, wild - the kind that can take your breath away. Inky black skies flooded with stars, the sea now the colour of dark-blue denim, the multiple shades of the pine trees, the moodiness of a grey sky. On the other hand, stick me in London and I love the bright twinkling lights of the city and getting around on public transport, where I can gaze out of the window at the world passing by, instead of having to concentrate on the road. I love the things I don't have in Ibiza, being able to go to the cinema or an art gallery or a museum, hopping around to see various friends, enjoying parks and my favourite book-shops. I'm not due in London now til Christmas but I'm already excited about the things I can do, the people I can see.

Since my recent trips to London, I've found myself thinking about a life that flits between the two. I would love to live something between the two places, filling me with the best of both. One is a strikingly beautiful island, the other a sparkling capital city but there are parts within me that hanker after both. There are elements in both that I love and that I don't find in the other. It seems as if after having two cultures and two worlds of work, I now find myself with two places where I want to live, moving between the two. I wonder if this is possible. Only time will tell......

Where has the moon gone?

It was a full moon two nights ago. I'm not sure if we get bigger moons here but it was huge, like a massive silver cheese in the sky. In the normal pitch-black surroundings, the moonlight was like a torch beaming down. Last night the moon was big and bright (but obviously not quite as big as the night before). It proved useful to guide me home when I ended up having to walk back from our villas.

We've got some press staying at one of our villas and the journalist arrived last night. We accompanied them to their villa and then I whizzed off to get pizza for them. We're good like that, looking after our guests - when you've got two adults and two one year-olds who've just flown in and it's late, it's best to provide some food, not send them off in the direction of the nearest supermarket (about twenty minutes away) or point out any restaurants that might be open. Anyway, I went off to get pizza for them, slightly alarmed by the noise that my van has been making in recent weeks. In fact, it's been making this strange noise ever since I took it to the garage. It's as if I traded in one strange noise for another, one disappeared but another one took it's place. I got to the pizza place, ordered the pizzas and then headed back to our guests. I think this was one pizza delivery they were very glad to see and I'm probably slighty more glamorous than your average pizza delivery person. I stayed and chatted for a little while and then took myself off home as it was getting late.

I got in the van, started it and absolutely nothing happened. I tried again, and a second time, nothing. So I got out, grabbed my laptop out of the back and started walking home. The moonlight guided me all the way and it was really quite special having a late night walk and seeing everything bathed in silver. I got home twenty minutes later so at least I now know how long it takes to walk from our villas to our shop and home.

Tonight I noticed the moon has disappeared. It's strange, it's not cloudy as the sky is flooded with stars. But the moon is strangely missing. I'm wondering why that is? And I hope it makes an appearance soon. I've got to meet the photographer who is arriving later tonight and take him to the villa. The van is still not working (but fingers crossed will be up and running tomorrow morning) so once again, I've got to walk back from the villa. That walk isn't going to be quite the same without the moonlight - I must remember to take my torch!

Feeling just a little bit sad about it all.....

I was recently appointed Director of Sales and Marketing for our riad in Marrakech. Going by the pictures, the riad is beautiful but not really known so not as busy as it should be. There has never been a marketing strategy around it and this year had been particularly bad so it was time to take action.

We're already with a couple of online booking agencies for the luxury boutique hotel market but weren't with the main one in the UK, the one that is best known for the luxury boutique market. They had visited the riad last year and wanted to add it to their collection but Alberto had said no for some reason. I resumed the conversation with them again and have spent the last month or so building up a great relationship and rapport with the team there, including the editor-in-chief. They were delighted to now add the riad to their collection and on our side, we were also obviously delighted as now it meant that perhaps the riad would be full all year round.

While we were in London, the editor-in-chief and the head of PR and marketing went to stay at the riad for a couple of nights to do a review. I had an email from them yesterday - sadly standards had slipped considerably from the initial photos and we didn't make the cut. I completely understand where they are coming from - they are seen as purveyors of the highest standards and if these aren't met, they won't include a hotel in their list.

It's frustrating for me, I've put a lot into building this relationship and had a great rapport with everyone. But ultimately it makes me feel sad. Sad that Alberto and Yvonne create such beautiful places yet the people who are selected to look after them once they've disappeared onto their next project just don't seem to care. Or not care enough. We've received a list of things that weren't right. They're mainly small maintenance issues, things that would take a couple of hours to put right. But it appears that the general manager doesn't see them or is happy to let things slip. It's the same in the shop. When we came back yesterday, the floor was filthy, the beautiful wooden table we work at was covered in dirt and fag ash and the bin was overflowing. But the person who'd been working at the shop while we'd been away didn't seem to see any of this.

I just don't get it. How can people not see these things. Or how can they not care about something they've been given to run? Do I just care too much? Maybe I do but then again, I've made my name and reputation by delivering at the highest level on the projects that I've been asked to do. When I was running the Society last year, I gave it my all and put my heart and soul into it. After four months of being there, I knew that once the year was over, I'd be moving on to a new place to live. I could have just wafted through those last few months, doing as little as possible but still getting paid. But to me, the most important thing was to make sure the Society was being left on strong foundations and I gave it my all. I'm not blowing my own trumpet or trying to make myself sound better than others but I know what I've put into things and know what has been achieved as a result. It's how I work and the thought of being given a project and not really caring about it makes me shudder. Someone once asked me why I didn't just not deliver on something. I looked at him as if he was mad or had asked me something completely ludicrous and said "I always deliver, that's what I'm known for" - I just don't see the point of doing something half-heartedly - better not to do it at all!

We've now got our work cut out to return the riad to its former glory and sort out all the other issues. I always knew the challenge for me would be coming into things that are already in place but not working well. In the past, I've been involved in setting things up so you can make sure that all that needs to be done gets done at the right time, in the right fashion. This is something very new to me and I hope I can rise to the challenge. I have a reputation here for being strict and having high standards and I hope the people we work with understand the importance of these things and rise to the challenge themselves!

At this moment in time, I don't really know if I can make it happen. I don't question my own ability, I know I can do it. But I'm not sure that other people involved care enough to do what it takes. This is a beautiful operation that is not working well at all......

Sixteen weeks to go!

It's exactly sixteen weeks to go before my birthday and it's a big one! Yes, somehow I'm going to be turning 40 and I know that means that you're officially old but I don't feel like a nearly 40-year old! I certainly don't feel old and I don't look my age - I've had a couple of people recently guess my age as mid-twenties and when I saw Richard Spring a couple of weeks ago, he said to me "well, you still look like you're twelve and a half!" I appear to have aged in his eyes because before he said I looked like a twelve year old!

I was hoping to turn 40 married and with child or at least pregnant. Unless there is some miracle (and yes, I do believe in miracles!), I don't think it's going to be happening. But I still feel like I want to achieve something specific to mark turning 40 and seeing that most things have fallen into place in my life apart from the married/family thing, I've decided that I'm going to mark 40 by seeing if I can achieve a really flat toned stomach. And an almightly massive party to go on all day long.....

So, I've set myself a goal and a good one at that! Over recent years, I've noticed that my lower belly (ie below my belly button) seems to have a life of its own, one that involves protruding out. It's not a good look, I certainly don't like it so time for it to go. My past attempts at flattening my stomach have been haphazard but now there is a goal! So, ten minutes twice a day, every day until my birthday and lets see what happens! I hope it works, the rest of me is fine and swimming regularly keeps everything toned, everything apart from that belly that is.....

Back in London again!

Yes folks, here I am back in London again less than two weeks after I was last here. This time it's work-related - Alberto and I flew in for the Luxury Travel Fair. Although it's a public fair, we're looking for agents to work with for both Marrakech and Bali and thought best to see them when they're all collected together in one place.

Bizarrely, I wasn't as excited about coming back this time as I was two weeks ago. Makes me realise that my moods still fluctuate depending on hormones. It's not anywhere as bad as it used to be but there is a distinct difference in moods at various points of the month. Anyway, I digress, eventhough I wasn't falling over with excitement about this visit to London, driving around some of the most beautiful parts of Ibiza on Thursday made me feel wonderful again - the intense rugged beauty of the place takes my breath away time and time again!

We flew into London on Thursday evening, after a full day in the office and then straight to the fair on Friday. Initially Alberto was going to come on his own but then seeing that it's me who has to liaise with the agents, I decided that I should come too as there's little point in him coming alone and handing me a stack of business cards of people that I then need to build up a rapport with. We blazed our way round on the first day and got everything done, only needing to go back yesterday (Saturday) for a meeting with Music Concierge and for me to catch up with friends who were attending the fair.

It's been great seeing people's reaction to the places in Marrakech and Bali. Although these are both busy markets for luxury boutique hotels, I think our two places really do stand in a class of their own due to the design and interiors. I just hope that now we are actually doing some marketing, that we start to see results - Marrakech needs to be busy all year round and Bali needs to take off and fly from the launch date on. The challenge is on!

Yesterday was also the "nine months in Ibiza" mark for me so as always, good to see what has been done and achieved in that time!

On learning Spanish...

Something's happened to my Spanish. It's like it's had a growth spurt and gotten quite good Maybe a week in London speaking only English and Urdu benefitted my Spanish too! I had Spanish class this morning and managed to say quite a lot and explain quite a lot in Spanish so that was good. And last week I conducted an impromptu meeting in Spanish and actually did okay. We had French to fall back on but when I tried speaking in French, I kept mixing it up with Spanish or having my brain freeze when I was searching for an expression in French so we stuck to Spanish.

My Spanish studying can only be described as haphazard. I've studied properly since July and before that I'd sit down from time to time and study myself. Even with lessons twice a week, I haven't got into a good routine of learning all the vocabulary from each lesson and doing all the homework - apart from half an hour before the class. A lot has happened in the last few months so at times it can be difficult finding the time but feeling that I'd made progress in the last week or so has spurred me on to be more disciplined with the language studying. I know I don't want to be like one of those foreigners who can barely say three words in Spanish although they've lived here for five years. Anyway, I speak Japanese so I have no excuse for not being able to get my head round a new language. It does seem to require a bit more effort now though, maybe my brain cells are getting a little bit old....

When I was at Low Life, I realised that there were Spanish-speaking people at the party and I could understand them. I feel like I can listen in to other people's conversations now, it can be a useful trick to have!

From London to Ibiza.....

Written yesterday - on the flight from London to Ibiza (with Bruce Parry from "Tribe" sat in the aisle along from me - he's also an island resident).

On the plane back to Ibiza. The trip to London was fantastic and being away from the island for a few days helped me to put into perspective just how much has happened since I moved to the island.

The first trip to London was an emotional rollercoaster. Stressful family encounters coupled with great excitement about seeing friends again. This trip has been far more relaxed and easy, although equally hectic. After spending the first day with family and getting the family time in, I was able to go and see friends and do work-related stuff without any guilt. The one thing about coming back to London is that I generally could do with a holiday after as so much gets packed into a few days!

Seeing close friends and filling them in on Ibiza-developments helped me realise just how much I have achieved in less than nine months. Talking to Didier and Laure, Didier confided that before I left for the island, he was concerned about whether I would find anything truly challenging to do there. I can understand things from his perspective - when people asked me if I knew what I was going to do or if I knew anyone or if I had any contacts for work leads, the answer was always no. I was just going to go and see what happened. I can see why this caused concern for those I was leaving behind to venture off alone. It was less a case of my ability, more a case of whether something for me actually existed there. I was going from a capital city to a small island known for its nightlife - was the challenge there and would I find it? After talking we all realised that yes, I have found something work-wise that is two steps up from what I've done before in an area that I truly love. The challenge is there and I've managed to find it!

Being away for a few days I can appreciate just how much has been accomplished. It's still difficult though when you're living it day in, day out and you know the ups and downs you've been through. One of the things that I find amazing is that my friend Wilding the novelist has gone through a similar process to me with writing his first book. Just after the meditation course in April, we'd been chatting via email and he said that his writing the book was the leap of faith for him that moving to Ibiza was for me. I didn't get it at the time, I sat there thinking "but why is writing a book a leap of faith for you, you're such a brilliant writer?" I thought it was just a question of finding the time to do it.

When we met for a drink in July (just after he'd got a publisher for his book), he told me about stages he went through with the book, three-quarters of the way through but not sure if he could do any more. It was a similar emotion to me questioning day in, day out whether I could make that move work, whether it was something I wanted to do. It was like you hit the bottom chasing a dream and you're left wondering "if this doesn't work or I can't do it, what do I do?"

I confided in him about a particular moment when I felt intensely alone. Wilding being Wilding immediately made fun of me but he was sensitive enough to know that he wasn't stepping over the mark, he made me laugh with his comments. Things are going well with his book deal and we follow each others progress closely, we appear to experience similar emotions going through the process. In some ways, I get more excited about the developments in his life than I do in my own. It's not a case of not being excited about what's happening to me, of course I am. But when you live it, it's sometimes difficult to get your head around what's actually happening, it's just your life and you're living it. I know many people who are high achievers, doing really well in whatever they do but he's probably the only person I know who took a total risk in writing the book, doing something he'd wanted to do ever since he was a boy. You realise that very few people chase their dreams, even work out what their dreams are.

Not much sleep.....

Since gettting back to London on Wednesday night, I've been averaging about 4 hours sleep a night. The excitement of being here and generally being on top form means that adrenaline surges through my body - and is waking me up at 5 in the morning, regardless of what time I went to bed.

This morning was worse. I got to bed at around 7 after Low Life and then woke up again at 9, unable to get back to sleep again. That's why I'm up early on a Sunday morning blogging away on 2 hours sleep. I know this is going to catch up with me at some point - I just hope that it happens when I'm on the plane back to Ibiza!

Do you read my blog?

I saw my lovely friend Emily last night at Low Life and she said that she follows my blog. It was great hearing her feedback, it was very positive, she said she found it very inspiring. About a month back in Ibiza, I'd bumped into another friend Ben who said he'd come and visit KSAR. When I asked him how he knew about the shop, he said "I read your blog. You're doing what I dream of doing" - he also said that I was very honest in my writing. I guess I am honest and fairly open but if I'm going through a wobble, I'll elude to it but not go into too much detail until I'm through the other side. I'm like that in real life too so some things never change....

This made me realise that I've got secret blog readers. If you do read my blog, can you send me an email to azrazakir@mac.com to let me know what you think! Thanks - Azra

Low Life

I went to the Low Life Halloween party last night and it was ace! But I'm not so sure about the going to bed at 7 and then waking up again at 9 bit. At some point in the next few days, I'm going to crash and burn!

Low Life is an ace party in London that I went to religiously for 5 years. They'd usually be on at Valentines and Halloween and sometimes a summer party and a new years eve party the last couple of years. There's always a theme and we'd be encouraged to dress up appropriately - I have had some fairly risque outfits at Low Life over the years.

After I'd booked the flights to London for Kymani and Elias's birthday, I realised that Low Life woud be the same weekend so I could go to that too. It was fantastic - and it is something I miss living in Ibiza. It has a loyal regular crowd so you'd go to Low Life knowing that you'd always see certain friends. You may never see them anywhere else but always at Low Life. I've made lots of friends at Low Life, just as I made lots of friends through the Basement Jaxx parties in Brixton.

As soon as I arrived, I had lots of people asking about Ibiza and how things were going. It's funny but I got asked by some people who I hadn't even told so curious to know how they knew, through the grapevine I guess.

It was good to be back at Low Life and see so many of my Low Life friends. Ruby and Jenna came too (with respective other halves) and I think they loved it too! It was brilliant mixing my Ibiza life with my London life - without them at the party, it would have just been slotting back into my London life but this added another quality to it.

As always, the music was ace, the vibe friendly and the crowd up for a great time. It was bigger than usual, normally there are around 500 people there but last night there were more in the region of 800. With such a great response for tickets, they increased the venue size and therefore capacity. It was very busy but great!

I saw friends I hadn't seen in years. Including Colin and Duncan, good friends of my ex Will. When Will and I went our separate ways, I wanted to stay in touch with Colin and Duncan as they are such lovely boys. But I thought it woudl be awkward so left it. Seeing them again last night gave me the realisation that perhaps now the time is right to pick up the friendship again.

I had planned to leave at around 2. I ended up staying til the bitter end (as always), dancing around in new shoes with high heels, feet aching but refusing to sit down or stop! Mind you, when the party finished, I couldn't walk but luckily had some flat shoes to change into so I wasn't too crippled.

A truly fabulous night! Low Life - I love you!

Two lives

As well as being a fantastic book by Vikram Seth, the title of this post refers to how I'm feeling on this trip back to London. Something I noticed as soon as I arrived (well by the time I got to Liverpool Street) was that it felt like I'd never left, I slipped straight into being back in London. It feels as if I have two lives now, one in Ibiza and one in London - I've got a foot in each and I move between the two and know that I belong in both.

It's a feeling that's already known to me. Having grown up with two very different cultures - British and Pakistani, in recent years I've felt that I belong to two cultures, once again a foot in each and the ability to move between the two in a fairly seamless fashion. I think it's good to be able to do this, your world becomes richer by having two vastly different things in it and I think you appreciate both things more. Feeling that I belong in both Ibiza and London can only be a good thing. To me, it means I do have a life there, a life that contains some of the most important things for me. I'm still connected to my life in London but not tied to it. I may have left London but my life is still here for me. Moving to Ibiza has already made my life richer. I've made friends who live in London but the friendships were formed in Ibiza - maybe our paths wouldn't have crossed in London, we'd never have become friends.

I'll probably come back and post more as it's an interesting theme for me. But now I've got to get ready for a full day ahead!

Back in London again!

I'm back in London for Kymani and Elias's first birthday, feeling extremely excited about being here and all the people I'll be seeing and the things I'll be doing. I was in a fabulous mood at work yesterday. Quite a few people came into KSAR and my sparkly mood was on full display. I put it all down to excitement of London. On my way to the airport, I thought back to how I'd been feeling when I'd been going to the airport 3 months earlier, on my last trip back. It really is amazing how things can change in the space of a few months.

When I came back in July, my time running up to it in Ibiza had been difficult. I'd been struggling with intense bouts of homesickness, wondering if the move I'd made was worth making if all the people I loved and cared about were somewhere else. You sit there trying to make sense of what you're feeling, how to deal with it, what to do. Nothing concrete had fallen into place with work either which added to the feeling of "is this really what I'm meant to be doing?". I was equally excited then about coming back but it felt different, very different. I was unsure about my future, knowing I had to make a decision about whether to stay in Ibiza or not. I was aching to see my friends, maybe to remind myself that I do have the ability to find the most amazing friendships wherever I may be! Three months ago, my friendship with Ruby and Jenna was still in fledgling stage - three months down the line, my best friends from Ibiza are two of the people I'm most excited about seeing!

Things fell into place with Alberto and work once I returned to the island. It's gone on from there in leaps and bounds, so much so that this trip back includes a couple of work meetings. Now that I know what I'm doing, I can focus my attention on doing that to the best of my ability. Work is proving to be the challenge that I need, that I thrive on and Alberto is an absolute joy to work with. Once again, I know I've lucked out in a major fashion here - after working with Richard Spring at the British Ukrainian Society last year, I didn't think I'd find someone I enjoyed working with so much, so quickly - the stakes had been set quite high. But in Alberto I do find that. Although he's very different to Richard in many ways, there are still similarities that explain why we work well together.

After a couple of decades of working with some truly inspiring, remarkable individuals, I've come to realise that I work best with people who share a similar work ethic to me, display the same drive and determination and an expectation of exceedingly high standards. Our backgrounds may be completely different and we may move in very different social circles, but having the same work ethic means we work fantastically well together. This has been proved to be the case in most of the consulting work I've done. I always seem to find myself working with fully paid-up members of the Conservative party and I can reel off a list of highly inspiring individuals who have placed enormous faith and belief in me - yet our political views are vastly different. It doesn't matter, there's a job to do and we get on and do it as brilliantly as we can. In the world of work, it really is about how the person works, not their political/religious/social preferences (although there are certain qualities that I'd find impossible to work with, even if we shared the same work ethic).

I've also just moved into a large, light-filled 2-bedroom flat above KSAR. I've never lived in a space that feels so big on my own. At present it's a mess as I moved in late on Monday, packed for London on Tuesday night and then flew last night so no time to get things straightened. But at least I'm out of the shoebox and into somewhere that will feel more like a home. It also meanst that friends can come and stay and there's a spare room for them.

Right, I've got to go and call Kymani and Elias to wish them a happy birthday and see if I can go and see them today to give them a birthday kiss and hug. When they were born a year ago, I was in Ibiza on a recce. When the text came through that Claud and Matt had two beautiful little boys (and this is long before I was asked to be one of the godmothers), I was so excited that in my excitement I ended up kissing my phone with the text on it. I'm sure it looked a bizarre sight, girl sat in bar with friends, gets text on phone, jumps around in excitement and starts kissing the phone! At least this year I'll get to cover them in kisses in person!

Dangerous driving.....

I was driving to the swimming pool in San Antonio this morning when I came across a familiar site - a car turned upside down in a ditch. This was the second one I'd seen this week and is a regular occurence on the island. It prompted me to jot down this post, something I'd been meaning to do for a while now.

It's a bit dangerous driving over here and accidents are a common thing. I know two people who've been involved in very serious car accidents in the last 4 months. They were both lucky not to lose their lives and as I write, one is still unable to walk, the doctors don't know if he ever will but thankfullly he's been making good progress (and hopefully will prove the doctors wrong). The road to Cala Carbo is a particularly treacherous one, a mountain road with lots of sharp bends and turns and a dizzying drop on one side. As soon as it rains, it turns the road into a skating rink yet still people drive too fast and the accidents are numerous. I know of someone else who was a passenger in a car going along this road. A bend was misjudged and the car went down the banks - he's only just come out of a coma.

When I first arrived, I took to driving too fast, particularly along my favourite road that connects Santa Agnes to San Mateau. One night I was driving home and nearly went skidding going round a corner. I slowed down after that. But it's so easy to drive fast here. Often the roads are empty, there aren't any speed cameras and you end up going a lot faster than you suspected. Now I pootle along at a sensible pace, unperturbed by the line of traffic building up behind me.

Driving at night is also a tiring business. There aren't any street lamps so you're negotiating the sharp windy roads in pitch black. This darkness has its benefits - I love seeing the sky flooded with stars - but it makes driving more difficult. You have to keep an eye out for the pot holes that can be found in many country roads. And then there are all the beasts you have to try and avoid. In my time here, I've come across the following strolling along the road that I'm driving on - packs of dogs, cats, lots of sheep, bunny rabbits, hedgehogs, mice, rats and chickens. Actually very few beasts stroll along the roads, most hurtle or skittle around, panicking at the sound of a car. Plus there are inevitably lots of lost souls if you drive anywhere near a club in the early hours....

I think my most amusing driving encounter happened a few weeks ago when I was coming home from Space. It must have been around half three and I took the Es Cubells road back. This is a quiet road, not many people or cars pass it so when I saw a group of people frantically waving me down, I slowed down and stopped. I thought perhaps they'd had an accident and on that road, you're not likely to see any passing traffic so it was my duty as a good citizen to stop and help them out. They peered into the van, looked at me and said "are you the drug dealer?". To which I replied no. Apparently they'd just arrived on the island, were trying to sort out supplies but the dealer hadn't been able to find their villa so they'd all gone onto the road en-masse to flag him down. They were in good spirits though and got excited when they saw the glow-stick around my neck, glowing in the dark. I don't normally drive around with glow sticks but it had been a present from either Harry Sprout or Tayo and I'd put it around my neck and then forgotten about it. Which meant that I drove all the way home, with a faint pink light emanating from the van......

Some 8s

8 (ocho) in Spanish is a good number, it stands for luck and eternity. As yesterday was the 8th October and I arrived in Ibiza on the 8th February, it was my 8 months anniversary. I celebrated by pondering about my time here so far....

So, I think by general standards I'm doing pretty well! Bearing in mind I turned up here not knowing anyone, without work and not speaking the language, I've been pretty fortunate. It's not entirely true that I didn't know anyone here. A very old friend James has been on the island for about 5 years and although we had very little contact for about 16 years (something to do with going out and him breaking my heart), we'd resumed contact over the last few years. But if truth be told, our friendship tended to be wobbly - it was very hot and cold from his part. I'd never know if he'd act like I was his best friend or someone he barely knew. After a few weeks of this (and some very strange behaviour on his part), I decided to ditch him as a friend because he was pretty useless as friends go and I thought I'd be better off without him. Other island-residents I'd met when I was here last year also tended to be a bit flakey so I scrubbed my slate clean and started afresh!

This meant I pretty much started off my time here without any friends. That was really hard for me, as I've always been surrounded by lovely people. Even when I moved away to America and France, I made some very special friends very quickly. I struggled with missing my friends back in London and there was a time that I wasn't sure I wanted to do this. My time here seems to fall into quarters and the second quarter was tough. During this time, I'd met some lovely people like Ruby and Jenna but it takes time for acquaintances to become friends. Plus I tend to be more reserved when I'm feeling wobbly (a bit like a hermit hiding in a cave really). I think the fact that nothing concrete seemed to be happening on the work front didn't help matters much. If I'd been mad-busy, I'd have had less time to think about how much I was missing my friends and my old life in London. I think the one thing that kept me focussed and sane at this time was the kittens - they made their appearance at the end of the first quarter and Simba and Tykey were with me until the end of the second quarter. 

This was when I left for London and once back, made the decision that yes, I wanted to live in Ibiza but needed to touch base with friends a little more to stop me from missing everyone. Once this decision was made, it was just a case of getting back to the island and securing work that would keep me here. Some people will do anything to live on the island but I've never felt it like that. For me to stay, I'd need to feel that I was still moving forwards in what I was doing, that I was still using my previous experience in whatever I did here. I didn't know if that possibility existed but at least I had some idea as to what I was looking for. 

Once back, everything happened all at once. Dealing with the death of Simba and Tyke, moving house, being offered full-time work with Alberto. It feels like my life has changed completely in those two months, ever since I got back. I've gone back to living with luxuries like electricity and hot water and no longer need to troop off to the swimming pool to shower and use my hair dryer. Although my lovely friends Ruby and Jenna have gone back to London, I know that I made some great friends here and in some ways I felt more connected with them than I did with other friends who were here visiting. Maybe it's just that when people come on holiday, they're in holiday-mode and I'm in work-mode and the two worlds just don't seem to mix too well. It's something I'd like to make work better next year. 

Work has turned out to be the challenge that I need. Alberto asked me to run the shop KSAR and I accepted. It's full of the most beautiful treasures but it's never been busy since it opened last November. There aren't any systems in place so everything is unorganised and chaotic and just not working as well as it could! So it's up to me to make it work. I've got to put much-needed systems in place and raise the profile of the shop across the island to get it busy. I've seen people's reactions when they come in and see the collections - no other shop on the island has the same things we do and everything is truly beautiful - we just need to spread the word far and wide. It feels a bit like the Society when I was running that, it was up to me to pull everything together and push it forwards to make it succeed. I've had moments of panic where I've thought "I don't know if I can do this, I don't know if I can make it succeed" but that's pretty normal for me. I remember when I first started at the Society, having moments of panic in the early days, wondering if I could do what was required - and that all turned out okay in the end. 

In addition to the shop, I'm also Director of Sales and Marketing for their boutique hotel in Marrakech, the Ryad Dyor and may be involved with the boutique hotel they've got opening in Bali in a few months. The Ryad Dyor is a little bit like the shop, breathtakingly beautiful but just not as busy as it should be. Having looked at the competiton, our riad is a world apart because of the unique stylishness of Alberto and Yvonne but once again, we need to do all we can to raise the profile of the riad and get it full all year round! This role means regular trips to Marrakech, with the first one planned for November and I can't wait!

The role also means that I have to establish contact with agents that look after boutique luxury hotels and once again, I find myself doing one of the things I do best - going outside, meeting people to work with, building a rapport and using this to help us get to where we want to get to. It was one of the things I enjoyed the most about the Society and I'm pretty happy to find it here too. Finally, Alberto and Yvonne are a joy to work with. Amazingly creative with an eye for style that I've never seen before. The way they put things together is really inspiring, at times I find myself wondering if I'll ever be as good as them but even if I don't have quite the eye they do, I know that I'm bringing other much-needed skills to make the whole thing work. 

In a nutshell, where work is concerned, I think I may have found something that gives me as much as the Society did and that's really something. Yvonne I don't see so often but I work closely with Alberto and he is as much a joy to work with as Richard was at the Society. I think I'm very lucky in that I always seem to find amazing people to work with and once again, it seems to have happened! 

Now that work and home-life are more settled, I find myself looking to put a bit more order into areas of my life that got a bit chaotic. I've realised that I need to do regular exercise (my daily swimming had disappeared over the summer) and eat well. Without these two things, I find myself getting grumpy, particularly if I'm sat in front of the computer all day. I've embarked on a new regime that I'm easing myself gently into - it involves swimming three times a week, going running, cycling (when I've got a cycle) and getting back into my ashtanga yoga practice. I went from doing ashtanga two or three times a week in London to doing nothing here. I looked around for classes or teachers but didn't find anything. But I tried doing the primary series to a DVD and it was just like being in a class again, with the teacher guiding you through the series. So that's been earmarked as a regular thing to get in to!

I'm also going to make a bit more effort with my Spanish classes. When I was studying by myself, the course made you learn vocabulary and continually test yourself until you knew all the words. I'd be learning about a 100 new words each week. Now, although I go to classes twice a week, I'm not making the effort to learn the words in the same way and it's starting to get on my nerves. I'm finishing chapters in the book but if you asked me anything about a past chapter, I'd struggle to remember anything. So, more effort on the Spanish front! I have actually made progress in the time I've been here and can understand quite a lot. But inevitably I get frustrated if I don't feel I'm doing as well as I should be and so time to change that.

So, eight months in, things are going well, really well. I'm over my bout of homesickness and busy and settled in my life, challenged by the work I'm doing. I've made friends and have lots of new people to hang out and forge friendships with over the winter months. I haven't met my future husband yet which is a shame as it would be pretty cool for that to happen but there seems to be so much going on in my life at the moment, that perhaps the timing is just not quite right!