Escape to London -- London, England

(I've changed some names so that these posts don't get back to my host in a negative way. I don't want to gloss over the challenges I encounter, but I don't want to hurt anyone, either. Changing names is a way to honestly present difficulties without negatively affecting hosts.)

I'm starting this post from a Costa Coffee in London, England. My fingers feel thick and heavy with cold, my shoulders ache from lugging around my 65 liter bag (chock full of electronics) and I have a raging headache from spending 6+ hours in a tremendously uncomfortable bus whilst processing some bizarre, complicated emotions.

Leaving this stunning countryside is a pity. I feel like I could spend the entire summer exploring the magnificent coastline of Devon. Visiting the FREE museums in London will be wonderful! I haven't been in a decent art museum since Rome, which was... God, over four months ago. Acro yoga training? SO MUCH YES. Abandoning Michael to another few months of Harriet's unpredictable mood swings? Oof... poor guy. Eating meat for two weeks without having to sneak off to an abandoned beach? Mmm, happy.

The last few days at Aetherius House flew by. I taught a smattering of yoga classes, but spent the majority of my working hours under self-imprisonment upstairs editing footage for Harriet's website.

Harriet teaching Sivananda

I was more than happy to record Tess and Amber making sauerkraut. I'll post the video here next week so check back if you want to learn how to make glorious caraway seed sauerkraut without using vinegar.

I shot some footage from a workshop Amber was leading about the roles of fairytales in different countries.

Part of the course involved making these fantastic masks.

Amber

I shot a few minutes of Michael working in the greenhouse and the garden, talking about organic compost and how much veg Harriet can expect to harvest from her small, but productive plot.

 Just when I thought I was finished recording, Harriet knocked on the door to my "editing studio", poked her head in and said, "Aimee, I've just realized... we haven't filmed the most important thing we do here!"

I looked up from my computer, not bothering to say anything because I knew I'd be interrupted anyway.

"We haven't recorded channeling positive energy through the mountain!"

Of course. 

"Now, the weather isn't bad right now, so why don't we head up right after your yoga class? I mean, it's so unpredictable here, isn't it? Don't know what we're likely to get tomorrow, so might as well take advantage of this now. Hadn't we?"

"Sure, we can head up after I finish teaching."

These are the moments wherein I feel exploited. Does this woman really appreciate what I'm doing for her? Teaching all these classes. Recording videos with my HD camera. Editing. Creating accounts and uploading footage. Not to toot my own horn, but these are super unique skills that I'm offering. What do I get in return? Avocados. Nothing against avocados, but... but I feel like she's continuing to be upset because I don't need her as much now. My first week and a half at Aetherius House were spectacular. I felt appreciated and nourished and encouraged... but as soon as I started feeling independent and happy, the hammer fell. It's like she needs to keep a house of sick people in order to keep her identity as a healer.

My last yoga class at Aetherius House went smoothly and the students seemed just the right amount of downcast that they wouldn't be seeing me next week.

"This was my friend's first time doing yoga," one of the ladies told me as we rolled up our mats. "You really got her hooked, you did. She was disappointed that she couldn't make it for your last class and wanted me to let you know that she's really loved doing yoga with you."

And THESE are the moments where I feel so full of happiness I forget I'm a human with a hundred and twenty odd pounds tying me down to the earth. 

Harriet gave me half an hour to charge my camera, quaff some tea and prepare myself for Holdstone Down and all its magic/super bad weather. 

Trekking to the top. The wind was so fierce that it nearly pummeled me into the mud on several occasions. It blew mucus from my nasal cavities into my nose and then out onto the grass. I couldn't stop laughing at the ridiculousness of the whole situation.

I recorded Harriet doing the 12 blessings at the top of the mountain in front of the "Jesus Rocks". It was so f*cking surreal. Being mercilessly buffeted by the frigid wind on the top of a holy mountain whilst listening to this little lady call down blessings from the great masters. If I were someone who dreamed, I would have nightmares about this hysterical, disturbing event for ages.

Ages, I say.

Although recording and editing footage was generally a peaceful activity, I felt discouraged that I'd been reduced to cowering in the dorm room in order to find said peace. Hiding out in the dorm room to avoid my host and being virtually ostracized from the exquisite kitchen that Harriet had magically transformed from a paradise to one of the more unfortunate levels of hell.

This had the potential to be so perfect... I morosely looked at the shiny pots and pans, the drawers bursting with spices and the mountainous pile of vegetables on the counter.  How did a place in which I felt so at home suddenly turn into the area of the house I feel the most uncomfortable? 

Michael and I splurged on bacon two more times, sneaking up into the garden and cooking our fatty meat on the propane stove in the tool shed. We mixed in eggs, avocado, cheese, tomatoes and mushrooms (most delicious BUNG ever) and sat on the garden wall, listening to the birds and relishing a moment of deep satisfaction with life.

I'm happy to try vegetarianism, I mused as I looked at the bacon, wondering why I'd been so tempted to indulge in this final splurge. But here... perhaps this is how I'm processing my discontent with the situation. I took another bite of mushroom, avocado, bacon bung. There are worse ways to process discontent. 

Harriet drove me to the station at Ilfracombe first thing on Wednesday morning. Instead of wishing me luck in London, she spent the fifteen minute drive going on about how angry she was that I'd made so much noise getting ready that morning.

"I'm so full of anger," she said as she ate the last bite of chunky liver flush. "I could hear everything. Couldn't get to sleep at all."

"I'm sorry, I was getting my things ready to --"

"I know exactly what you were doing!" she interrupted me with an "I DIDN'T SLEEP AT ALL LAST NIGHT" look in her eyes. "I heard everything." 

I had walked up the stairs once to take a shower and once again to make sure I'd grabbed all my stuff.

"And I'm so angry," she swerved around the final bend and stopped in front of the national express bus.

"I'm sorry. Thanks for everything. I learned a lot from my stay here," I hugged her goodbye and boarded my bus.

Goodbye, Mars Jesus. So long, Venus Buddha. Aimee's going to London where the vibrations probably aren't high enough for your liking.