#30daywritingchallenge Day 5: Dinner

Day 5: Write about the best meal you've ever had

The first memory that comes to mind when discussing the best meal I’ve ever had takes place on a rooftop in Jaipur, India. I was 12 years old when we went to India, and looking back, that trip is one of my biggest family regrets, only because I feel as though I was too young to truly appreciate what I was experiencing. I mean this especially in regards to the food. I’m that special kind of weakling that found ketchup to have a kick for a good few years of my life. As you can imagine, I was pretty out of my element here. Still, I did my best, but even doing so I ended up primarily living off of naan bread for two weeks. Which was stupid. And I’ve felt stupid for the past 8 years of my life for passing up the opportunity to try so much more while I had the chance. But I’m getting off topic. 

My memory of a lot of the food I had on that trip is very blurry, but this specific meal is still crystal clear to me. The sky was completely clear and the stars were out. The dining area looked over a bustling night market, and the streets were lively beneath us. The restaurant was small and run by a family. I remember not knowing what my dish was when it arrived, because as with most of the restaurants on the trip, I had immediately asked my mom to order me the most mild thing on the menu. There were three round pieces of white cheese smothered in a creamy orange sauce. My clearest memory of the meal was how rich and creamy the cheese was. I’d never tasted anything like it before. I’ve had paneer cheese since, but nothing I’ve tried here has come anywhere close to what I ate on that rooftop. That was the first time I ever remember really enjoying spice, which sounds so ridiculous to say now, but I’d really never experienced something like that meal before. We sat at that restaurant all night basking in the heat and life of the area. As much as I enjoy looking back on this meal, all I wish is that I could go back and do it all again.

The next meal that comes to mind was in France, in a village with 3 restaurants, on top of a mountain. We’d been road tripping from Lyon down to the south coast, stopping at small country towns along the way, and Saint-Michel-l’Observatoire was one of our last destinations before Nice. The town was named after its nationally ranked observatory, and its incredible view of the stars. My favourite memory here, apart from our dinner, was sneaking out in the night to watch the stars from the rooftop while listening to music. 

We only spent one night here and we almost didn’t get into the restaurant, as it was full of reservations. We walked down at 8. It had a large, pretty outdoor dining area that protruded onto the street and was filled with jolly laughter and chatter, as most restaurants in France were. It was covered in vines and purple flowers. I don’t even remember how much, or even what exactly I ate that night, mainly because my memory became very blurry after my first couple glasses of rose. We had set meals filled with local cheeses, meats, and fresh vegetables, all sprinkled with lavender from the neighbouring province. I had one of the best, most juicy steaks I’ve ever eaten in my life that night. Or maybe I was just so drunk and happy that I just thought it was the best. Regardless, it was magical. We sat out on that patio until midnight, drinking, laughing and eating until we couldn’t move. Me and my family still talk about that meal all the time. 

My most recent, and most significant food memories come with my trip to Japan this past summer. Japanese food has been one of my favourite international cuisines for years, and this was the first time that going to the country, I believed that the food was going to be one of the highlights of my trip. And it was. I could write novels about Japan, and how much visiting that country has altered my life, but I’ll try to keep it brief.

All of the food I had in the country ran miles around anything I’d ever eaten at home, but nothing in the rest of the country even came close to the magic that is Dotonbori street in Osaka. Walking around a boulevard stuffed full of restaurants and food stands that stretches for miles, all while dopey on jet lag, is a sensation I’ll never forget. I can’t even pick out a specific meal from my time in Dotonbori. Every single thing I ate tasted like nothing I’ve ever eaten before. Everything was so fresh, warm and bursting with flavour. A lot of it was prepared right in front of us. The thing that did stick out to me the most about Dotonbori was how the most understated restaurants were some of the best that I’ve ever eaten at.

 Dotonbori has a large market for Kobe beef, and the street is filled with flashy restaurants with outdoor grills, advertising their A-cut meat on bright flashing signs that reach up to the sky. We ended up trying the beef at a small restaurant that could seat no more than 10, located in an alleyway beside a department store. It was the most confusing meal that I had ever eaten in my life. I never knew that beef could taste like that. Couldn’t wrap my head around it. It was tender, juicy and soft, but beyond all of that it was sweet. Sweeter than fruit, sweeter than white peach Fanta that I’d been religiously drinking throughout the whole trip. It was a flavour that I don’t think I’d ever be able to experience again, anywhere else in the world. The chef was delighted to see our confused and amazed reactions to what we were eating. Out of all of the highly praised, very popular, flashy and grand sushi restaurants that we saw and tried on the trip, The small, unknown sushi shop we found in an unpopulated, underground strip mall is the one that sticks on my mind the most. The tuna nigiri that I ate there was the single best bite of food I’ve ever had in my life. I’m not exaggerating when I say I find myself thinking about it every single day. Trying Takoyaki for the first time was surreal, desserts always looked like art pieces, and even snacks inside the corner store next to our hotel were amazing. If I could pick any city in the world to eat at forever, I would pick Osaka without a doubt.

The main thing that ties all of my best food memories together are the incredible memories that I have associated with them. I doubt these meals, as delicious as they were, would have been half as memorable without the beautiful scenery, lovely staff, and conversations that accompanied them. But really, what can’t be improved with a good environment and great people? I could write about dozens of other meals that hold the same sentimentality to me, but I’m not trying to write a novel. Maybe one day. 

#30daywritingchallenge Day 4: Dear Daughter

Day 4: Write about the sun

I feel like I need a vacation.

Don’t get me wrong, I consider myself extremely honoured and blessed to have the life I do. From the moment my 9 little bundles of joy entered my life, I knew deep in my heart that they were destined to do incredible things. Watching them grow throughout the years into the beautiful, strong creatures they are today has been nothing less than magical. Still, despite all of this, I can't help but find myself longing for an escape from this wonderful, frustrating chaos every once and awhile. With my children's incredible growth, has come a handful of eccentric personalities, that I’m starting to have a hard time juggling. 

Mercury, my smallest, has never been too much of a hassle. Always sticking by my side, he’s never been the type to want to draw attention to himself. I feel as though some of my eldest hold grudges against him for his clinginess to me, but I’ve never been one to pick favourites. Venus can be hot headed sometimes, but I can sense that she's dealt with some insecurity over her rough and blistering terrain that she’s never told me about. She’s always been very full of love for me and all of her siblings, and when she’s feeling good, she shines brighter than all of the other stars in the sky. Jupiter has always been a great big brother to all of the other children, but his bold and brash attitude has always overshadowed some of his smaller siblings. He can get a bit rowdy and hysterical when he gets upset, often working himself into a fit of storms and wind that can be near impossible to calm down. I'm so lucky to have his wonderful moons to help me guide him when my hands are too full. And with Jupiter’s temper and his size, I need 79 helpers to keep him under control. Saturn is my flamboyant one; he takes pride in his unique appearance and tends to think of himself as higher than all his siblings. He vanity clashes with Jupiters arrogance, and the two brothers often battle for dominance among the planets. Uranus and Neptune are my distant sons, cold and apathetic. I rarely know what they’re up to and I wish I could provide them more warmth than I’m able to. I hope their moons treat them well. 

My most troubled child is undoubtedly my poor Earth. In the beginning, she was something of something of a child prodigy. As she became a mother of her own, growing beautiful creatures all over her land, I knew that she had to be very careful. With her new creations came new responsibility, and very quickly she was in way over her head. Her creatures were evolving faster than any of us could keep track of. They built civilizations and tore them down; they would get in violent fights and destroy her and each other. Still, she worked so hard to help them thrive, putting her all into making every living thing as happy and healthy as she could. As time went on, I noticed she was losing her vibrant glow. She always looked so sick and tired, as if she’d had all the life drained out of her. There was nothing I could say or do to make things better As the damage they had done to her had become unfixable. Growing up, her and Mars were twin flames. But ever since Earth’s creatures have started prodding with her siblings' surface, filling him with experiments and junk without his consent, they’ve been resentful towards each other. Her moon silently puts up with the same tampering. When Pluto became estranged from our family, Earth was the first to vocally condemn her and go on tangents about how he doesn’t belong with us. 

Things have become so tense that I don't know what to do with her anymore. She’s wasting away for these creatures and they do nothing to repay her. They’ve turned her sour, and now I feel as though I hardly recognize what she’s become.  I love her, of course. She’s my daughter and I’d do anything for her. I hope I can keep her warm forever. I love her. But I’m not sure if I like her. Not who she is now. Not who she is with her humans. Sometimes I wish they would all disappear and stop tarnishing her, and that I could have my old, lively daughter back. They’re like parasites draining the life out of her soil. 

All I’ve ever wanted is for my family to be happy. Being a single mother is hard enough as it is, especially of nine, and especially when you suddenly become a grandmother to billions of tiny species that all know who you are, but you will never know any of them. I wish I could get away from all of the tension for a little while. Swim among the cosmos, visit different galaxies, see how life on the other side of the universe operates. But I can’t. These are all selfish desires anyway. Maybe one day, in the future, all of the storms and violence will calm down. But I'll keep that dream to myself.

#30daywritingchallenge Day 3: Fishbowl

Day 3: Write about life in the POV of an animal

The first view that I knew was a faded turquoise.  

Everybody around me seemed perfectly content, but something about the scenery made me uneasy. The turquoise cornered us in. It was vast, stretching from the sky all the way down to the pebbles beneath us. I felt like I was stuck in a box. Maybe I was. Our only solace from the protruding walls was a giant, see through pane. Beyond the pane was a world of space and colour. Tall, tanned creatures wandered throughout grey isles filled with trinkets. Sometimes they would walk right down to the pane, and stare down at us like a predator stalking their prey. But they were always gentle giants; as uncomfortable as it is to be glared at by a giant set of eyes, none of them ever tried to harm us. They didn't have 3 turquoise walls trapping them in place. They weren’t trapped in place at all. I envied them deeply.

The strangest thing about my life in the box was the net. Every once in a while, a large white net would reach down and scoop one of us up, beyond the sky, into whatever lies beyond the surface. It’s always a shock for the newbies, but after a while it becomes just another part of our routine. Some of us would purposely try to be the ones caught. Some of us avoided it like a plague. Some of us simply let the net decide our fate. Whatever the outcome, it was never a big deal. We simply said our quick goodbyes, wishing them the best for wherever life was taking them, and after we watched the net leave the sky, we would go about our day as normal. We all had our theories about what happens when the net takes you, but we only ever treated them like fairy tales. I watched many friends come and go from the box. So many that I had stopped believing that I would ever be taken myself. It wasn't something I avoided, but I didn’t yearn for it either.

The day that it did happen, I hadn’t even seen the net enter the box. I was facing the pane, watching one of the giants staring in at us. Suddenly my vision was clouded by mesh. I didn’t know what was going on. All I could see was a faded white. Everyone around me began to wish me well. The net started rising. Suddenly, I felt so guilty. Guilty for all the times I sent friends off so nonchalantly, guilty for not allowing myself to worry too hard about what ended up happening to them. Being taken from all you’ve ever known at a moment's notice with absolutely no idea what will happen to you next is a horrifying experience. Nothing was ever going to be the same, and I hardly had a second to process that fact.

Then everything became heavy. I felt like I’d gained 100 pounds in a second. Then I couldn’t breathe. 

Then I was placed into a cloudy sphere. My weight felt back to normal and I could breathe again. For the first time in my life, the 3 turquoise walls were gone. Everything around me looked like what I saw beyond the clear pane, but warped. It took me a moment to realize that the sphere was moving. Colours morphed and swirled around me as the orb moved, rocking me back and forth with its momentum. The orb would occasionally stop moving and start again, and the light shining onto me varied from non existent to so glaring that it made my eyes hurt. As time went on inside of the orb, I started to wonder if this would be my new normal. If it was, I’m sure I would have become completely miserable after a while. I had already started missing the turquoise walls. 

Then the orb burst, and I tumbled out into a brand new box that would make up the rest of my life.

#30daywritingchallenge Day 2: Cicada

Day 2: Write about nostalgia and innocence

You can always tell how hot it is outside by how loud the cicadas sing. It’s nature's own warning alarm, letting you know to put on extra sunscreen and to avoid walking on the driveway barefoot. Days like this call for crunchy chlorine hair, sticky coloured cheeks and the chance to add more scabs and bruises to the ever growing collection on your legs. 

Cold, clear water feels like liquid gold against a sun kissed body. Below the water's surface is another world that only few are able to reach. We have our own lives here; ones that are completely in our own control, where nobody can tell us who we are and what we should do. Nobody else can see the tails that grow where our legs should be. 

Your wet hair will dry quickly in the warm breeze. The rustling tree branches might call your name, inviting you to perch yourself within their sturdy arms. We’re giants, now, 10 feet tall and as strong as the hardwood supporting us. This is what birds must feel like all the time. If only we could fly as well.

The hot sticky air does have its drowsy side effects, of course. Before you even realize that you’ve slowed down, you might already find yourself melting like a popsicle into the ground, watching the green leaves dance through the bright blue air above you. There’s a state of existence you reach when laying under these trees where the tickle of grass on your back and the warm breeze on your torso become one. You’re floating, now. Drifting up through the leaves, above the roofs and treetops, joining the birds in the clouds and watching the little people marching like ants below. 

When you come back down to earth, you might find yourself already in your bed, tucked beneath the same warm, fresh sheets that were hanging on the clothesline all day. There's no time to question how you got there. It's time to go to sleep now. There's a busy day of more summertime adventures and cicada songs ahead of you.

#30daywritingchallenge Day 1: My First Time Living Alone

Day 1: Write about your first time trying something

The first thing I learned is that it gets very lonely very quickly.

It's hard to become accustomed to different background noise. You might be used to always hearing your TV from your living room at a certain hour of the night, or being woken up by creaking floorboards in the morning. New noise can be disorienting. Unfamiliar voices yelling through walls are particularly uncomfortable. You start missing the voices you know, you start craving familiar presence. Too many nights alone means too much time alone with your thoughts. It's always been this way, of course, but when there's no one outside of your room to distract you from these thoughts even for a little while, it makes them hit much harder. 

Having plants helped me more than I thought it would. Simply having something to take care of made me feel less alone. And friends, of course. Friends are the best medicine an lonely person can have.

The next speed bump comes when figuring out your own routine.

Reality can become altered very quickly if you’re not careful. Waking up and falling asleep at a reasonable time is a much bigger challenge than it seems. With so much independence comes so many options and things to do that it can be easy to forget to do anything at all. Staying on top of things is a juggling match that it can be difficult to master, so take it one step at a time. Don't be afraid to set alarms, even when there's nothing to wake up for. Running errands are more fun when you’re doing it completely for yourself, so do it often. And DON’T forget to tidy every other day. Especially garbage. Take out your garbage often. 

The thing that took the longest was regaining my sense of self. I didn’t even realize how out of body I had become until I was a month in, and I couldn’t recognize myself in the mirror. I couldn’t pinpoint what was going wrong. I felt like I was watching every day as if it was a movie. Keeping on top of things wasn’t making me feel any more present and I would feel more real when I was intoxicated then when I was sober. This led to habits that made everything feel much worse, and mornings much harder to get through. It began to get very frustrating. I didn’t want to feel so bad, because for the first time in my life things were exactly as I wanted them to be. I was independent in a big city, following my dreams and spending time with my friends. So why did everything feel so empty? Was I in denial about being let down by something I’d been waiting almost my whole life to do? Or was it finally time for me to accept that bad mental health is not as easily dismissible as new air to breathe and a new place to rest my head?

My moment of realization came when I went back and visited my hometown for the first time since moving. The moment I re-entered my old shoebox bedroom that I grew up in, I realized that THIS is what true emptiness feels like. All of the bad memories that I hadn’t thought about since leaving started flooding back. These walls had, and still have, trauma within their cracks. Trauma of all the things that this old town had done to me, of all the nights I’d come home and cry into the pillow as I fell asleep. I wasn’t feeling empty since leaving, I was feeling lighter. And it wasn’t a feeling I’d ever experienced before, so it scared me. The person I couldn’t recognize in the mirror was simply a changing girl. Change is scary and nauseating, and true change isn't felt as often as one might think. But I got it, then. Things were different, but that's okay.

It's important not to be afraid of new things and new feelings. And of course, that's much easier said than done. Just remember to be busy, keep clean, and focus on yourself always. The hardest pill to swallow is that scary is not always bad. But once you digest it, beautiful, beautiful things will begin to bloom for you.