keshafayblog

You know your life has taken a few interesting twists and turns of late when you find yourself lying on a strange couch one Sunday afternoon. No I wasn’t direly hungover, but about to enter into a deep slumber, otherwise known as hypnosis.

I’d only met Forest twice. Once on a winery roadie and once at Disco dress up party. Of course we’d hit it off instantly.

If you picture someone named Forest,…

Arabian adventures: Petra at midnight by mule

German police men, Bedouin cave pirates, dubious liaisons and midnight mule riding. It was one of those whirlwind adventures travellers lust for. Someone recently told me you attract what you’re open to, I must be open on the page of some Indiana Jones novel. I’d spent a lovely serene 48 hours in my own company. It’d been a fun but hectic few months, and it was so nice to meander Jordan slowly…

Tourists flock to Amsterdam for tulips, its liberal take on drugs and the infamous red light district. Yet there’s so much more to lure you to this fine city. Here’s some insights from a Kiwi who’s had a damn good year in the Dam.

  The frequency of English, the easy lifestyle and the working holiday visa explain why people are calling Amsterdam the new London. The weather is marginally better,…

 Tales as old as time, tell of fine princes on horses pursuing damsels in distress. Men like the chase we’re told. They used to be cave men you see, and had to hunt things. We women are like modern day deer. So be all doe eyed, demurely frollicking in some shrubs waiting (but not waiting) for that modern day cave man to come pursue you. Play hard to get. But be warm, friendly and approachable.…

“You should get out there, and go on hundreds of dates before you settle down.” Hundreds. My Mum has always been one for interesting advice.

Then I met a bunch of Kiwi girls living in London. They introduced me to The Quest. 12 dates. 12 months. Sounded more doable. My goal was to be single for the year, and go on lots of dates. It seemed like a good fit. Thus The Quest was born.

To define the…

More sex. Sorry, what was the question?

Winter is slowly drawing in. The days are getting shorter, the nights longer and the desire to hibernate very real. But don’t do it alone. Having a cuddle buddy is proven to keep your wellbeing soaring. Want to keep that winter flu at bay? Here’s five ways to stay happy and healthy this winter.

  1. SEX

Well, it’s one way to warm up. We all know sex releases endorphins sending your mood soaring,…

What is love?Baby don’t hurt me

L o v e. It’s the madness of the gods, according to the Ancient Greeks. We write, cry, laugh, rhyme and sing about it. Crazy in love. I can’t help, falling in love with you… You make loving fun. Love me, love me say that you love me. More than words. Nothing compares to you. How deep is your love? It must have been love, but it’s over now. Cry me a river. Now you’re just somebody that I used to…

The real secret to happiness. The seven dimensions of wellbeing…

There’s so much more to wellbeing then exercising and eating healthy. Yes, these play a vital role, but they’re just two pieces of a much bigger puzzle. Let us introduce you to the seven dimensions of wellbeing. This concept brings harmony across all areas of life. Image seven circles, all overlapping, and a zen happy you at the centre of them all. In each of these circles sits one of the…

Skip the mistletoe. Make this aphrodisiac love potion….

Don’t be that person chasing after the object of your affections with the mistletoe branch. So uncouth. Instead snare them more subtly with this amorist love potion. No Christmas snog guaranteed, but the cunning is (potentially) much more likely to woo.

Since the dawn of time, love potions have been used to intoxicate unsuspecting crushes. Even before crush was officially a word. The best love…

What that little kale seed can tell you about your life’s journey

As consumers we want it, and we want it now. We congratulate ourselves on the amount of greens in our shopping basket. Yet do we ever stop to think: where did this kale come from? How long did it take to travel here? How long did it take to grow?

  Pop quiz. How long does kale take to grow from the seed?

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  Approximately four months. Congrats if you were one of the few that got it. Here…

There’s something about the urban myth of tall, manly, blonde, bearded men that makes a girl swoon.

And thus, two Kiwis quest for Vikings begins of course at a bar in Reykjavik. We eye the swarms of bearded men with curiosity.

“Are you a viking?” my friend Michaela asks the older bearded man seated beside us.

“Yes, of course” he slurs in a thick Icelandic accent emphasised by his drunkenness. So far, living up to the reputation.

He insists on buying us multiple shots of Icelandic Schnapps the true Viking liquor.

Michaela notices that our beautiful bearded barman is in fact pouring shots of Jim Bean and Vodka. Viking credibility is deteriorating rapidly.

We get one over him by convincing him I am in fact Keisha Castle Hughes New Zealand’s infamous Whale Rider. They eat Whale in Iceland, so he has no issues with animal riding ethics.

We stealthily slip away to the other side of the bar to research the younger Northmen.

They’re not overly tall, slim bordering on skinny, and don tight jeans, beards and lush long locks that give me hair envy. Definitely no Lasse Løkken Matberg.

These urban Vikings are surprisingly Hipster, straight out of a cool cafe that serves on point Espresso.

Michaela interviewing a Ginger cafe Viking

  We befriend a Norwegian Viking, he’s a brunette not a blonde but has the beard and hair down pact. We even convince him to get into costume for the cause.

A legitimate Norwegian Viking

He displays a natural talent for finding hot springs which seems like a useful Viking skill. We document our findings happily over Champagne, but are determined there must be Icelandic Vikings lurking in the wilderness.

We enlist the help of another huntress, Nicki from Seattle who embarks with us on the Viking road trip quest.

We circumnavigate Iceland in five days. We drive the Southern coast, the Eastern Fjords, through the Snowy mountains and the Northern highlands. We leave no waterfall, beach, or hot pool unturned.

We even scour an old Viking village.

And yet, there seems to be a severe shortage of not only Vikings but people in general. We are shocked to learn there are only 3.2 people per square kilometre, even less than our beloved New Zealand deemed the Iceland of the South.

Maybe we’d be better off searching for Huldufolk – the hidden people. Better known as Elves, it’s claimed 80% of the population believe in them.

I’m not sure Elves are quite a sexy as Vikings, although if they look anything like Orlando Bloom we could no doubt be swayed.

places + spaces / NYC

Greens sprawling twisting

Enveloping with breath

Eclectic wonder

Floating through dreams

The morning flickers by

As the light tentatively rises

And landscapes unfold

I watch with curiosity

As my eyes flutter between consciousness

“How much longer till you fly back to New Zealand? I might join ya.”

A few days later Michaela and I are wining and dining in Cluj-Napoca the infamous Romanian hub of the young and reckless.

We start our night in true Balkan style with shots of Rakija the strong local Brandy. From there the night is a blur of colour; from a surreal Bogan heavy metal underground club, to salsa dancing with a swoon-worthy Dutch man.

Fast forward a few nights and we’re trekking through Hoia Baciu deemed the world’s most haunted forest. Known as the Bermuda Triangle of Transylvania because of the harrowing tales of UFO sightings, disappearances, unexplained burns and feelings of nausea.

At midnight our group abandones us. Not because of any eery happenings but because Google maps seemed set on us circumnavigating the forest only. Very suspicious.

Michaela, Dutchie, a Kiwi fella and I venture on, determined to find something remotely terrifying but after a few hours of lack lustre (but scenic) adventures we too make the long walk home.

Next day Michaela and I decide to Hitchhike east to Timișoara. I spend all morning crafting the perfect sign in my Rakija induced hungover state. A Bla Bla car happens to be going our way, so we opt for the safer route and catch a ride with a few locals instead.

Michaela is a sales woman by trade – she’s all smiles, laughs and charm. From the back seat I can see a situation developing. Our Driver keeps bestowing us in gifts – bags of home grown fruit and veggies. And then he starts touching her arm as he offers her fruit. And the fruit offerings keep coming. Next thing he’s trying to book into the Hostel we’re staying at and plotting our big night out. The shameless flirting is starting to become uncomfortable.

I’m no Sales Women, but I’ve mastered the art of elusive behaviour. When we stop to drop another passenger off in town we jump out graciously, bid our farewells and head on our merry way with fruit for days.

R o m a n i a. I went there in search of Dracula, haunted castles and Gypsies. Yet Dracula and Vlad the Impaler were long gone. And Gypsies was apparently a politically incorrect term. Sigh.

Instead I stumbled upon a colourful place enchanting in its own right. Mystical mountain towns. A lot of city slicking. One too many sleepless nights. A slice of old school Europe pastures. Copious amounts of coffee’n in hipster cafes. A chance encounter with a dodgy puppy dealer. And most importantly an accomplice.

So changing your car oil, it’s a seemingly easy task. Unfortunately it can require the assistance of 2 women, 5 men and 2 trips to the petrol station.

I’ll be honest, I’ve never changed the oil in my car. I like to think I have, but in fact I pay the mechanic to do it with my car service.

I’m not even entirely sure how to open my car bonnet. I of course know how to do it in theory, but we all…