Monday, September 27, 2010

Back to it...

...work, the diet, the grindstone in general. After a hiatus from the eating plan, and putting on 2kgs as a result, it's time to get back on that horse. I've decided that I had been taking too rigorous an approach to my food and have been thinking about how I did so well to start with. I think a lot of my initial diet success while I was in Vietnam was due to the fact that I didn't actually have to do a lot. Apart from breakfast, I had grilled fish and salad at my work cafe 5 days a week for lunch, made my own salad-based dinner about 5 times a week and pretty much ate out for the rest. Since then, I've been trying too hard, which has left me jaded about the whole thing. I also have a much more civilized schedule this term with no evening classes so I've decided to basically do what I did in Vietnam, but in reverse. 


Breakfast and snacks aside, it will go something like this. As there is no cafe at work and nothing that's both suitable and cheap in the vicinity, I will make my lunch most days with maybe the occasional restaurant trip. Then, due to my latest finish being 5.30pm, I will go somewhere for dinner most of the time. There are plenty of places around town that do excellent and reasonably priced salads, as well as interesting, low fat starters that can be accompanied by a side salad or vege platter, and there's always the local sour fish soups which are very low fat and one of my favourite things to eat. It shouldn't be difficult to keep within plan with a bit of self control, is what I'm trying to say


On top of that, I'm going to walk to work, as long as it's not monsooning down, and walk to as many things as possible on the proviso that it's not dark out, and therefore dangerous. I have been very lazy in this seeing as Phnom Penh is eminently walkable  especially in camparison to Ho Chi Minh City which just isn't. I decided to test the walking waters yesterday and ended up doing a 3 hour trek around the city; mad dogs, Englishmen, and all that. I felt I had to walk until I couldn't anymore, which did get rid of a whole lot of negative energy and reminded me that exercise is not just about losing or maintaining weight, but is also essential for good mental health. As I have been dealing with a certain level of frustration lately this was a timely reminder. I'm also going to try to swim 2 or 3 times a week although this may be a little hit and miss what with all the pools being outdoor and entering the heaviest part of the monsoon season. I don't much fancy being struck by lightning whilst doing the breast stroke.


A further incentive to get the diet cranked up again came from a wham-bang-thank-you-maam shopping trip to Vietnam. It was reasonably successful but would have been more so if my bum didn't get in the way of a number of purchases. There's nothing like the misery of trying on beautiful clothes that won't fit, no matter how much I want them to, to light a fire under that same fat ass to do something about it!

Friday, September 24, 2010

Life's a buffet...

...well at least lunch often is in this city. Having recently discovered the phenomenon of the Phnom Penh buffet, I now notice that it's everywhere. For between US$3-5, you can scoff and trough your way through a pretty good selection of Western and Cambodian standards that are well prepared and most importantly, fresh. 


Today, I finally visited a local restaurant called Jacob's Well that I keep meaning to check out but hadn't got around to. For $4.60, I buffeted rather well. The quality was so good that I will go back to check out their salad menu. The place was well patronised and the staff capable and friendly. Like many a place in PP, it's an NGO training restaurant which trains disadvantaged youth in real skills then pays them a proper living wage. I could easily find somewhere for $1 or $1.50 less but then the staff would not be paid a livable wage. And that's the different a dollar makes.

Wednesday, September 15, 2010

where's the bleeping pool?!

Last weekend I decided to go for a swim. I was in fact quite desperate for some physical activity, which is unlike my usual lizard-like self, but I've finally accepted the fact that I won't lose any more weight without it and and I was also suffering some end of term stress and really needed to release  it. Well, release I did but not quite in the way I had envisioned.


The closest pool to me is at the new gym, The Place II. Not being quite sure exactly where it was, I called the first Place for the address before setting out. It didn't take long to realise they had given me the wrong address so I called back. Now they decided I should phone the new Place so gave me that number. I call from a very busy street and a mousy little voice answers. She refuses all requests to speak more loudly and I can't hear a word. I call the first Place again and get a different girl. She won't give me the address. She only wants to talk about membership. After my 4th request for the address I started shouting, as you do. After about 4 more requests for the address, she says, "Oh, so you want the address?" as if I hadn't made myself clear in the first place. Something almost ruptured inside me and my jaw was hanging in amazement. And then just when a person thinks they can't be made to feel any less of a valid being, she says, "well, getting back to the membership..." How could I not explode? 


I decided to stomp my way to the first Place and complain and on the way found the other Place I was looking for. I went in and asked to speak to the manager and guess what I got in return, "You want a membership." More exploding about the first words out of her mouth being about parting a person and their money, and not listening to the question, and then I repeated everything to assist her comprehension. The manager come and proved to be a prized idiot and the assistant got worse. She effed off after firm instruction to do so. I did my best indignant not-ever-going-to-be-a-customer-in-this-overpriced-crappy-service-joint performance, before leaving. The manager was running out the door after me. His mouth was moving but I could no longer hear anything. My brain was blanking out the trauma. I did get to have a look at the pool though, and I have to say that it is the worst pool I've ever seen for choppiness and certainly not worth US$15 for a one day pass.


It took me the rest of the day and an early night to recover from getting so angry. I hate it, it's really upsetting but I have to vent or I implode. The following day I was even more desperate to swim, this now having become a physical craving. This time I went to Phnom Penh Sports Club. It's a little out of my way but for $5 for a day pass and with a decent length pool and full facilities (gym, steam, sauna, massage, cafe, separate kids' pool etc) it was just right. Although a little jaded, and aren't we all, it was clean and the atmosphere relaxed and friendly, just what I needed to reset my equilibrium.


I managed 24 lengths of the 25 metre pool before my arms started to tire. This is quite pathetic considering I used to swim 3-5ks, 3 or 4 times a week, but it has taken years for the rod and screws in my leg to settle down enough to allow swimming without severe pain. I also developed asthma after a bad reaction to the anasthetic during the operation to repair the leg, but I've altered my breathing pattern to cope with that. Instead of breathing on every 3rd stroke, I breathe on every second. It does slow me down but it also doesn't cause chest tightness. I'm not too stiff which is a vast improvement on even 6 months ago when I last swam, and then suffered increasing stiffness everyday for about a week before it started to abate. This is one symptom that seems to be under control and inline with my my recent normalised thyroid tests. I still have a  hell of a temper, but then I always did.

Monday, September 6, 2010

the little pill of happiness

I certainly have not been feeling myself for about a month now, but this morning woke up refreshed, energised and even happy. So what happened overnight to bring about this sunny morning disposition? Nothing more exciting than a little white pill that you chew up and swallow down. And what might be the purpose of this little white pill, hmmmm? Intestinal happiness, aka parasite control. Yep, I had worms and they made me miserable. 


The really silly thing is that since I've been living in Asia, I go through this about once a year. I totally forget that it is wise to take a preventative dose every six months and end up getting myself into a miserable, parasitic state. I feel like the proverbial goldfish swimming around the bowl, constantly forgetting everything and relearning everything. Is this just me or another example of Hashi memory?


Oh, and I don't believe that goldfish 'forget' quite so easily. I once trained a goldfish to a food command which would have been impossible if what they say about goldfish memory is true. It does make a nice analogy for Hashi memory though.

Saturday, September 4, 2010

Big news from home...

First of all, there was a rocking, great big earthquake in Christchurch. My little brother and other friends there are all OK.


Secondly, I just became an auntie again. Another brother and his wife were delivered of a bouncing eight pound baby boy on September the second. This is rather an auspicious day in our family as both our grandfathers were born on September the second. Both of them were called Frank, too. Kind of spooky in a way.

Thursday, September 2, 2010

Poor me...

I'm sick today. It seems to be some kind of tummy thing - just hope I'm not growing a new ulcer. Some people when they are sick can take some meds, tune out and sleep through the worst of it. I get all introspective and full of self blame. I dread getting a serious disease like cancer, not because of how horrible that would be, which it would, but because of the very nasty mental blame game that I would put myself through. All the smoking and drinking and all night partying at the time seemed like adult decisions being made by an adult, however with hindsight one sees that no proper decisions were being made and in fact a lot of time and energy was spent on avoiding the big issues altogether. See, I'm doing it again. Staring at my belly button.


So what comes from all this wallowing in one's internal mire?  Sometimes a little insight. Like, the reason why my weight loss has come to a screeching halt is because I need to get off my fat backside and get it into a gym or at the least, a pool. And that is going to hurt, a lot. There's the metal rod in my left leg and the internal tear in one of my abdominal ligaments and to top it all off there's the little issue of very poor muscle recovery. Back in the day when I was the energizer bunny, I could go hell for leather in the gym with very little if any after effect. Now, the merest extra movement has me in full body pain for a least a week afterwards. Anti-inflammatories are no help as the problem is in the nerves, not the muscles. Acquired Neural Sensitisation Disorder is what was diagnosed in NZ and there is not much that can be done about it apart from what I already do being a Hashi. There has been some promising research from Australia but that won't result in any kind of meds before I have to get my A into G and exercise. 


Wallowing is quite tiring and I still have a lot of it to do. I have to consider all my sad bits such as the root canal that has to be redone, the mole that needs to be removed from near my eye, the veins in the left leg that are damaged from the accident and need fixed, the muscle spasms in my neck and shoulders need attention, I need my regular check up x-rays on my dud leg to check the screw positions (some odd movement in there), I need to get the other leg x-rayed as I found bone spurs (only formed after a break, if I had 2 broken legs I'm going to sue someone to death), my tummy is irritable as anything and I need a haircut. I'm a wreck. Tomorrow when I hopefully feel better, I may return and delete this or I may just let it go so that I remember to actually get onto some of these things and feel better about my falling apart self.

Wednesday, September 1, 2010

this funeral is killing me...

From the bowels of this funeral tent emanates a cacophony fit to send a person insane. 


Unfortunately one of the old boys in my neighbourhood died a few days ago. I knew something was up when an unusual number of other old boys, and a few youngish ones, gathered around the plastic chairs they daily haul out onto the footpath in order to keep watch on the street and ensure the gossip machine is well fueled. In some ways this is quite reassuring as we have builders, aka thieves, living on the street (they live in whatever premises they are constructing). It seems to escape this informal neighbourhood watch committee that there are guards at every house but in reality, the old boys are probably far more of a deterrent to crime than the guards, who may in fact be thieving themselves. And you can be sure that no one misses out on being a topic of discussion. I can see it now: "That foreign teacher at number xx not come home until 10.30 last night. Maybe she finally get a boyfriend. No husband, no kids, so sad. Maid said she sick last week. No one to stay with her. No good. But no wonder she no husband, she yell to motodop driver, 'no I don't want any fxxxxxxg drugs!' motodop driver maybe good husband, she never know now...so sad"


Getting back to the funeral, we are now into day three of poorly recorded plinkey-plunkey cacophony  pouring forth from loud speakers. Just to complete the awfulness of it, there is no rhythm or pattern so as to to confuse the ghosts that are hanging around in order to confuse the dear departing spirit. Why it takes days to depart, I don't know  but they are really very slow at getting a move on to the afterlife compared to the Western dead. Also, the richer the person, the longer these things go on for so it seems that rich people are too strongly attached to their worldly goods and experience. They really should be made to have shorter funerals to force the spirit to get a move on. If it moved faster then the ghosts wouldn't have time to get up to their tricks and the relatives would be spared the expense of a long funeral where they have to feed and house all the rellies and anyone who drops by.


Oh and then there are the dogs. The neighbourhood dogs have had a couple of trips to the funeral tent where they are encouraged to bark their heads off -  as if they don't do enough of that already. Dogs bark at ghosts, don't you know? Try suggesting that they are only barking at the rats scavenging for food scraps from the food preparation tent and people will think you're mad.


You can imagine what this is doing to my delicate Hashi balance. Muscle spasms, pain, nightmares and urges to do sudden violence have over taken my life. I ransacked my apartment looking for my one pair of emergency ear plugs, which I eventually found in my sewing kit (go figure). They reduce the volume but not the irritating randomness of it all. OK, now they have switched to tuneless chanting via loudspeakers, of course. It has all the charm of a North Korean public address. If this dead guy doesn't get a move on soon, he may be joined by a few of his rellies and old boys. But OH NO,  then there would be more funerals...