Thought Catalog

When I’m lonely, I’m rarely alone. Those many sleepless nights I’ve had in New York when you’re almost positive that the entire city that never sleeps took an Ambien except for you? I happen to like those quiet moments. I don’t feel detached. On the contrary, I feel more in tune to to the rhythm of things when there’s nothing but silence.

I feel most alone at 2pm on a Saturday when you’re surrounded by nothing but couples or groups of friends and you don’t fit into either category. You’re just kind of floating by languidly while everyone else seems to be busy connecting with other people.

I feel most alone on a bad date, when you’re sitting across from someone who clearly doesn’t get you and never will. You wonder how someone that looked so good on paper could get lost in translation. You wonder just how hard it…

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Ugh, too true

Thought Catalog

A very dependable feature of people who live abroad is finding them huddled together in bars and restaurants, talking not just about their homelands, but about the experience of leaving. And strangely enough, these groups of ex-pats aren’t necessarily all from the same home countries, often the mere experience of trading lands and cultures is enough to link them together and build the foundations of a friendship. I knew a decent amount of ex pats — of varying lengths of stay — back in America, and it’s reassuring to see that here in Europe, the “foreigner” bars are just as prevalent and filled with the same warm, nostalgic chatter.

But one thing that undoubtedly exists between all of us, something that lingers unspoken at all of our gatherings, is fear. There is a palpable fear to living in a new country, and though it is more acute in the first…

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Cocktail O’Clock: The Bitch Colada

When baking, I enjoy meticulously measuring out all the required ingredients, combining them following a sequence of overly precise instructions to finally end up with a predictable – and hopefully edible – result.

However, when it comes to cocktails, I have a decidedly more slapdash approach. Unless you’re trying to impress someone with your double rainbow, 3-part flaming turtle, 1 part rhino moonshine alcopunch, I find it much more rewarding to throw everything together in the shortest amount of time possible, trying not to make a mess of it, so you can just get it in ya.

The Bitch Colada was conceived on an uncharacteristically mild winter night in a small, parisian apartment. Somewhat resembling a Peach Colada, it was named as such because that’s exactly what I heard when my french friends drunkenly repeated my description of this ghetto cocktail.

What you’ll need:

  • A container to mix/store your cocktail in – empty disposable bottles are great because you can cap ’em, shake ’em and take ’em where ever you’re going!
  • Peach syrup – you can use peach juice if you want to be healthy/fancy, but this unholy creation is cheap and peach flavoured enough for the purpose of this recipe
  • Coconut milk/cream of coconut – Coconut milk has a lower fat content, especially the “reduced-fat coconut milk” (le duh)
  • Rum
  • Water – to water that bitch down! (but for serious, it’s strong.)

What you have to do:

  1. In your container of choice, mix a generous dash of peach syrup, a splash of coconut milk, a healthy dose of rum and water that baby down with, well, water.
  2. Shake it up, or mix it daintily with a silver spoon.
  3. Give it a taste.
  4. Tweak it to your desired level of sweetness/creaminess/intoxicalisiousness (I deliberately gave vague measurements because ONLY YOU know how YOU like YOUR Bitch Colada)
  5. And enjoy!

Disclaimer: I hold no responsibility for how hammered you may or may not get as a result of drinking this beverage. Please be responsible and hold young children’s hands when crossing roads. HAPPY DRINKING!

Fun fact #1

One of my tricks to fall asleep on restless nights is to listen to my breathing, specifically how my breathing auto-regulates. I follow the rise and fall of my chest with each breath and most of the time this will get me to sleep in 5-10 minutes.

I discovered this method during a high school yoga lesson cool down where I fell asleep, surrounded by 30 odd people, on the gym floor.

Happy snoozing!