Pervs, Sleazes and Other Delights

Today, as I was walking back through the park to our temporary home, the token pervy drunk (well, there's always one, isn't there) started shouting and singing at me as I passed him by. Not a beautiful serenade or anything - don't be silly. But one of those trashy songs that his type genuinely seem to believe will make them irresistibly attractive to the opposite sex.

Anyway, as he began slurring and bellowing his way through the lyrics, I rolled my eyes as usual and carried on ahead, and it wasn't until a few steps later that I realised how much I had tensed up, and was breathing really shallowly. It struck me as interesting that, while on the surface I was very blase about it, clearly it had affected me subconsciously in some way, without my knowing.

As I thought about it, I realised that this is pretty much always the case when I get shouted or whistled at in the street (not that I'm saying I'm irresistible, either. But let's be honest, pervs will be pervs, and even more so over here in Brazil, from my experience. They're not fussy, as long as you're female).

What I want to know is, why?

Why do I somehow feel intimidated by this unwanted attention, without my knowing? And, more to the point, why should I? Or you, or anyone else? Why should someone who is simply going about their daily business have to put up with that, with someone staring at them, and drawing the attention of other people to them when they probably don't want it?

It's silly, really. I know that the majority of them are harmless, and I also know that they will do it to any female with a pulse who has the misfortune to enter their line of vision. Now, I'm not going all feminist on you or anything, but this kind of stuff really does grind my gears, and I feel annoyed with myself for tensing up or feeling nervous in any way. Because if we do that, then surely they have won? Maybe that's a bit dramatic, but it's clearly that kind of reaction that they feed off.

On the other hand, I think they probably feed off anything, as back in the UK when I have said some choice words to someone who was bothering me, it did little to stop them, and seems to be a great source of amusement to them and their 'mates'. Over here though, it's different. You have to be careful what you say to these people, as rather than being a bunch of lairy builders on a building site, the offenders tend to be lone crack addicts who wouldn't think twice about pulling a gun on you if they happened to have one on them (not as uncommon as you might think). Saying that, the majority of them are too far gone to even realise what's going on, but the risk is always there, and it does tend to make you hold your tongue.

I'm not really sure what my point is here - this is more just a bit of a ponder and a rant. It just angers me that still, even in this day and age, we have to put up with this sort of thing, and if I'm honest I can't see it changing any time soon.

xx

Book Club #1: 'Trafficked' by Sophie Hayes

You probably don't know this about me, but I've always been something of a big reader. As a child, every day when my mother dropped me off at playschool, I would have to go and hide in the library corner and bury my head in a book for an hour or so before I was ready to come out and join in with the other children. Whether this was down to shyness or being traumatised by my mother leaving me behind for the day, I'm not sure, but since then books have continued to be an important part of my life. There's just something really self-indulgent about curling up and getting lost in a good book, and while I do have times where I just can't seem to concentrate on anything, it's a hobby I hope I'll always maintain. With this is mind, I've decided that I want to make sharing my favourite reads with you a regular part of this blog, so without further ado, let's get going!

Trafficked, by Sophie Hayes, is a hard-hitting autobiographical story of the dangers of mis-placed trust. Aged twenty-four, Sophie agreed to go on holiday with her best friend - and the man who claimed to love her. But before long, things began to unravel as Kas became violent ,and suddenly she finds herself plunged into the terrifying world of forced prostitution.

This book is utterly gripping, and from the moment I picked it up, I couldn't put it down. It's terrifying to think that things like this really happen, and shocking that even normal, happy girls like Sophie are at risk. It's so easy to imagine that there are 'easy targets', such as people from troubled backgrounds or with existing drug problems, but really, it can be as simple as being a little bit too trusting.

I would highly, highly recommend this book, but be warned that you may find it distressing in parts. I won't tell you what the outcome of the story is, but it's an eye-opener and well worth a read.

xx

Animal Anecdotes

(not the offending shoe creature - I was too traumatised to think about grabbing my camera- but he looked a lot like this. Source)


'Toad in the Hole'

The other day, I was getting ready to go for my morning run, and having donned my usual attire, I realised that my trainers were not in their usual place in the shoe cupboard. Remembering that I'd taken them off in the bathroom the day before, I headed in to put them on, slightly rushed in doing so as I had been a little bit distracted by my Bloglovin' feed earlier, and was cutting it a bit fine. I hurriedly jammed my foot into my right shoe, but as I attempted to do the same with my left, UI felt my toes knock against something hard and puzzled, I lifted the shoe up to eye-level in order to investigate. Certain it was probably a forgotten sock from the day before, all bunched up in the toe of my trainer, imagine my surprise when I see a pair of hooded eyes peering out of me. Yep, don't worry, it wasn't a sock in there - just a flipping massive, warty toad!

Honestly, you should have heard me scream. I was so shocked that I flung the trainer down and started shrieking and shrieking as I ran out into the garden to tell my husband what had happened. It soon turned to hysterical laughter, to the point where I couldn't even breathe, let alone speak. A little dramatic, some might say, but you try finding a toad in your shoe. I should probably also mention that I'm in Brazil, so I think along with the shock was just a smidgen of fear that it could perhaps have been poisonous.

We seem to be having quite a few reptile-related incidents lately, come to think of it - although this was the first that directly involved me. 

Every night for the past few weeks, when my husband has been arriving home from work in the dark, a huge great toad has hopped towards him out of the darkness by the front gate, stopped, and promptly done a huge wee. No word of a lie - every night. At first I thought it might be having 'accidents' because it was scared, but hearing that it actually approached him cast doubt on that theory. We later Googled it and discovered that toads often do this when they feel under threat, as it leaves them lighter, should they need to escape in a hurry.

In the front garden, there tend to be quite a few lizards running around, and whenever someone comes outside they make a break for it and scurry up the wall. Now, while that would usually be an end to it, a few weeks ago, shortly after my husband (yep, him again) had gone out to the car, I heard a shout from outside, and a few seconds later, in he came. When I asked him what had happened, he said that one of the lizards had 'jumped' onto him from the wall above. Please bear in mind that he absolutely hates the things. I couldn't help but laugh at him, particularly at the fact that he took it so personally, but sure enough, a few days later it happened to him again. It's now happened a handful of times, leaving him extremely wary each time he passes the garden wall. He always warns me to watch out, but I think it's pretty apparent that it's him they want. Whether they are suicidal or just have something against him, I'll never know -  that's between them and him, but he's now convinced that the reptilian world has got something of a vendetta against him and that they've all been conspiring against him.

I'll try and get some action shots of the toad that guards the front gate next time the hubby is working late.

xx

Holidaying

If you read my beauty blog, Mirror on the Wall, then you will probably have a) already seen some of these holiday snaps, and b) be aware that I'm currently spending some time in Brazil. My husband is Brazilian, so we tend to spend a lot of time over here, and while we are not usually based at the seaside, last week we decided to take an impromptu road trip to our favourite place, Arraial d'Ajuda, Bahia. 

A beautiful colonial town situated close to Porto Seguro, the point at which Brazil was discovered by the Portuguese, Arraial d'Ajuda is crammed with beautiful beaches, high quality restaurants and bars, nature and wildlife.

It wasn't our first visit - in fact, we'd already been there several times before, having fallen in love with it the first time we set foot on the narrow cobbled street, lined with cute boutiques and beautifully lit restaurants, that leads down to the sea. But each time, we are every bit as awestruck as we were the first time around, and it's always a huge wrench to leave.

I won't take you through every last detail of our daily activities, so let's just say there were lots of cocktails, sunbathing and beach walks involved during the day, and more cocktails and dancing by night. My favourite thing about Arraial is how beautiful the village begins to look from about 6pm, when the sun goes down and the lights come on. Everything is beautifully lit, with fairy lights lining the outsides of restaurants and shops, and trees bathing in pools of green light. The picture (fifth from top) really doesn't do it justice, but it really is breathtaking, and there is not a 'hair' out of place anywhere on the street. The night air is filled with the soft sound of live music, and while there are huge numbers of bars in close proximity to one another, all in the open, they all seem to be perfectly in sync, each one perfectly complementing the next and never interfering with its vibe.

The highlight of the trip was definitely visiting a beach called Praia do Espelho (Mirror Beach, pictured at the top), a true hidden gem and a certain taste of paradise. It's  place we had always intended to visit, but being an hour and a half's drive off-road from where we were staying, we have always eventually shelved the idea in favour of extra beach time in Arraial. However, this time we took the plunge, and it was truly beautiful, and worth every bump in the dirt track it took to get there. The water was that incredible turquoise colour you only ever seem to see on postcards, the sand white against a backdrop of tall coconut trees, swaying in the breeze.

Upon first inspection, the beach looks quite untouched, but a walk a little bit further along the reveals tasteful bars and restaurants with real beds to relax on, and beautifully decorated woven furniture to kick back on and enjoy a traditional Brazilian Caiprinha cocktail.

Other activities we indulged in during the holiday included kayaking, zip-lining and visiting a waterpark (which didn't go down too well with the hubby, given that heights aren't really his, er, thing).

We were also lucky enough to get a really good view of a family of wild monkeys, but as I haven't been able to upload the photos yet I will pop some up in a separate post.

It was a wonderfully relaxing week, and just thinking about it now is making my mind scream silently to be taken back there immediately. It was a veritable treat for the senses, and yet another memory not to be forgotten.

xx

Why I Should Have Been Born A Man

                                                                               source

Sometimes, I wonder if I should have been born a man. Not in body, you understand. But regardless of the positive progression made towards equality in recent years, there's no denying that, to some degree, we women are still expected to be something of domestic goddesses. Yes, men may do their bit with the washing or cook dinner a couple of nights a week nowadays, but it still seems to me that we are somehow supposed to possess those same qualities, whether or not they are put to constant use. We are supposed to want to keep our houses spick and span at all times, to have dinner on the table in the evenings. And to enjoy stacking the dishwasher and tidying up after our loved ones or housemates. It's assumed that, no matter how much we complain about having to do all of these things, that actually, we secretly take delight from doing them, and from the overwhelming sense of satisfaction it generates within us. And most of all, all of this is expected to come naturally to us. We see a crumb on the floor, and can't help but pull out the vacuum cleaner. We've already cleaned the toilet once that day, but we just have to do it one more time, just to make sure every last speck of bacteria has been exterminated.

Well, guess what? I'm not a domestic goddess. I leave my clothes lying around all over the place. I don't always remember to hang out the washing after it's been through a cycle in the machine, so I often have to do it again. I absolutely hate, with a passion, sweeping and mopping tiled or laminate flooring. And cleaning the bathroom makes my skin crawl.

There, I said it.

source

Now, don't get me wrong - my house is not a complete pigsty, and I do wash my dishes and make an effort to keep things clean and tidy. But frankly, cooking aside, I detest household chores. It's not even the actual doing them that bothers me the most. It's the fact that you can spend a whole day trying to get your house looking picture perfect, but a day later, it's as if you had never lifted a finger. Where's the satisfaction in that!?

Recently, my sister was having a discussion with her boyfriend about the virtues of shower mats and curtains, and when they couldn't agree on where the post-shower drying should take place, she called upon the people of Facebook to hopefully prove her right. The question in, well, question, was whether one should dry themselves in the shower before climbing out onto the mat or whether the mat was actually the point at which the towel should come out. Immediately, I whole-heartedly jumped on the second option bandwagon, only to check back later and see that lots of people had agreed with me. With a smug smile on my face, I scanned the remaining comments, only to find that a) my sister's opinion had been the first, not the second, and b) everyone who had agreed with me was male.

These things just don't come naturally to me. I always forget to hang my towel up to dry after a shower, while my husband vigilantly does so every time. I fail to notice when there is a scattering of crumbs or hair on the floor, and even when I do, my first thought is to clean it up 'later', which of course, never really comes until it's time to give the whole house a good going over from top to bottom anyway.

I must point out, I am in no way saying that it's preferential to think like a man, although I do believe that it must be quite stressful to feel the need to be on top of every little aspect of home life at all times. Actually, I find it quite worrying that I don't seem to have come equipped with such natural instincts, and it terrifies me when I think of perhaps one day having children. If it's not in my nature to do all of these things, then how can I ever expect looking after a child to be instinctive? Can I really expect a switch to suddenly flick, and to instantly become that afore-mentioned domestic goddess?

I do wish my house was in a more organised state of affairs, and I do try to keep it so, but fail so miserably. It's not for want of trying, but for want of instinct.

So tell me, am I the only woman alive to leave dirty socks on the floor, and to not whip out my feather duster at the smallest whiff of an opportunity?

This could be awkward....


Mel x

A Welcome Note...

Organised Chaos came about when, after a year of writing about beauty, I felt the itch to spread my wings and indulge my more creative side, writing about a broader variety of topics and seeking out inspiration (and hopefully providing some) on the things that make me feel excited about life.

I had always wanted to start a blog of my own, and wrote travel articles on my first blog for a couple of years before becoming interested in the beauty blogging world. However, my real passion has always been writing itself, and I had never wanted to become tied down by one particular topic. As much as I do love writing about beauty and fashion, there is so much more to me, and to life, than that.

Sometimes, I just want to sit in front of the computer and write about whatever springs to mind. Maybe it's about the kind of day I've had, or about something that has inspired me of late. Perhaps it's about a trip I've been on, something I've baked or crafted, something that's grinding my gears at the time, or just a funny story. Snow White Turtle Doves is  going to be the place where I can do all of that, and I'm really excited to get started, and to be able to just go with the flow and see where it takes me.

I hope you'll enjoy this little bit of insight into the daily goings-on in both my life and my mind. Please make yourself at home.

Mel 
xx

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