I love history because we can learn from it. This is the Musee du Louvre, in Paris.
While school and university are great platforms for learning, to my mind, Life proves to be the best teacher by far. While the former imparts theory, Life shows you… well, life. How the everyday works. And it is not the kind of stuff you can get from a text book. It’s the hard-hitting realities and truths that you can only learn by experiencing it.
So far in my life I had to learn some hard lessons. It is not always easy to deal with the disappointment, but I am better for it.
Family members are not as interested in seeing your holiday photos as what you are. I have taken a multitude of pictures “to show my mom and dad; because they will really enjoy this!”. For some reason, after picture number 453, their enthusiasm is not what it was when the slideshow first came on.
After I’ve put nail polish on my nails, I will need to go to the bathroom. It doesn’t help to go just before. Nope, I’ve tried that. Inexplicably my bladder is linked to fresh nail polish that needs to dry.
After living with terrible, faded and outgrown hair for weeks, the day I go to the hairdresser to finally get my hair done, it will look the best that it ever has.
The first time I try a new recipe will always be amazing. However, past performance is not a guarantee of future success and as a result, the second time is normally a disaster. Let’s just say the panna cotta I practiced for Christmas pudding was an amazing test, but more a “puddle of cotta” on the day it was meant to be a star.
If you try some pants on in the store and it fits just a tad too tight, chances are very good it will never fit. Don’t believe yourself when you say “Well, I am on a diet… so it is just a matter of days before it fits…” No, it will not happen.
If you spot something really expensive that you like and buy it, within a few weeks you will find it on sale for a third of the price. However, if you decide to wait for a sale, that specific thing you were looking for won’t be there anymore.
The neater the handbag, the more difficult to find things inside it.
Not that I have had much experience with grey hair (!!) but for every one grey hair that you try and pull out, you will pull out at least 5 perfectly good hairs instead. And when you finally manage to get hold of the grey you will end up breaking it off, instead of eradicating it completely. Those things stick like the roots of a thousand year old tree.
Yes, learning can be tough business.
But what is the most profound thing that I have learnt so far in my schooling with Life? “Be miserable. Or motivate yourself. What ever has be done done, it’s always your choice.” – Wayne Dyer.
It is something that I continue to learn every day. Just like school, you have to practice at Life. The best part about it though is that you will only fail once you stop trying. So happy learning! I know my education continues.
The old station building. It closed many years ago.
Yesterday I read a really touching post called “Nostalgia” by Freespirit. I was drawn to it because of the title. I am quite sentimental (two huge containers in the garage filled with stuff I WILL still scrapbook is testimony to that!) so I thought it would be something along those lines. It was more than that, though. It was a reminder of how quickly time goes by and that often “we do not value those simple things in life that are more precious than gold“. It’s so true.
So inevitably it sent me down my own nostalgic road. And the first thing I thought of was my parents and home – where I grew up.
The entire town of Calvinia in one frame.
I was raised in a very small little town in South Africa, called Calvinia. The town itself is part of the great Karoo, and if you were to ‘google’ the word Karoo it would tell you that it is a semi-desert area. Strange, I never perceived it to be ‘desert’. To me desert means sand, and although it is very dry and hot in summer, there is still shrubbery. We call it “karoo-bossies” (‘bossies’ means bushes). To the naked eye it would probably look dead, but their unmistakable smell (fragrant, almost herby) will let you know that they are very much alive and that its hard outer shell is just protection against the harsh sun.
The quiet streets where I grew up.
The little town is surrounded by two mountain ranges. I remember walking home from school and some days the hot “bergwinds” (mountain winds) would come rushing down the mountain, through my hair. At times it almost took my breath away. I would walk with my arms outstretched, trying to catch the wind, untying my hair so that the wind would send flying it in all directions. I loved the feeling – carefee, invincible, alive. In those moments I always thought that I could be anything, achieve anything.
The view from my bedroom window.
And I loved the mountains. My bedroom window had the most amazing view of the striking blue mountains that surrounds the town. When sun went down the mountains would bask in an orange glow. I never grew tired of it. I spent many evenings sitting on my windowsill looking at it and drinking it all in. Maybe this is where I get my peaceful nature from!
The town is really small, no more than a couple of thousand people living there. This means hardly any light pollution and the result of that is an amazing night sky. Words can’t do it justice, but the best way to describe it would be to image a black tablecloth scattered with diamonds, and packed as tightly against each other as if you poured salt between them. At night, as kids, we would lie on the grass for ages just staring up at the sky, looking at each twinkling little light. Trying to see shooting stars or see who could first spot a satellite! When my cousins from the city came to visit they were always in awe and could not believe that we were looking up at the same sky as what they did back home.
Post Office and the church.
For all the hot and dry the summers, the winters were freezing cold. Sometimes we would even have some snow (called “kapok”) on the higher mountains, but never in town. And if it was a proper rainy winter we were rewarded in spring with the most beautiful phenomenon…
Unused railroad tracks makes for a beautiful picture.
Come early August, the fields around the town turned green. And it was not just the karoo-bossies. It is almost something that cannot be described; just witnessed. The wildflowers of spring. How this dry and arid land could turn into a kaleidoscope of colours and smells… As far as the eyes can see; orange and white daisies, purple “vygies” (a type of succulent), gazanias, little white flowers looking like a carpet of snowflakes… For a few weeks during August and September the town became a hive of activity as people from far and wide would come to see the spectacle. It is really a magnificent performance by Mother Nature.
I loved growing up there. I would not trade it for anything. I even met hubby there. He is not from there, but he came through town for his work back then and we were both in the right place at the right time. The rest is history!
I left Calvinia the year after I finished school. I’ve been back many times. My parents still live there, but they prefer to come visit us in the city now. Thanks, Freespirit, for transporting me back to those joyful moments. And for reminding me to go back more often, while I still can.
My dream job would probably be touring the world (seeing it, experiencing it, cooking, eating and drinking it!) with hubby. Yes, I definitely think so. The travel bug has bitten and I will never recover from its fever!
But what is it about travelling; why do I love it so much? Let me count the ways…
The feeling I get when hubby and I sit in the plane, ready to take off; arms locked, holding hands
Aeroplane selfie
It’s hard to describe the feeling. Anticipation. Excitement. A bit of nerves. Like it is just me and him against the world (in a good way; not as in some sci-fi movie where we are the only people left to save the world from an alien invasion). Together we are standing on the edge of the unknown, of an adventure, not knowing what awaits us, but knowing that together will make it through and that we will be forever changed by the experience. Goosebump stuff!
The thrill of visiting a country where English is not the first language
The first country we visited where English was not spoken as a first language was France. We arrived by train at Gare du Nord station and upon getting out on to the platform we were bombarded with everything in French; announcements, signage, people, the whole lot! I could not see one bit of English anywhere!
When we exited the metro station we just had to take this picture right on the Champs Elysees.
We honestly spent at least an hour inside that station trying to buy metro tickets and trying to find our way to the subway section.
(The reward was worth it though; we exited the metro at the Charles de Gaulle Etoile stop and as you come up from the stairs the magnificent Arc de Triomphe is right in front of you!)
A couple of years later we arrived back at Gare du Nord. French/English signs everywhere. Like they’ve always been. Clearly we were so in awe back then that we never noticed there was English aplenty!
Experiencing different cultures
There is something special about watching other people going about their normal daily routine and seeing how they just do things completely differently. From what they do, to how they do it. It has definitely inspired some different behaviors from hubby and I; there is always something that you bring back with you and that will forever remain a part of you.
We were staying in a small town on the Amalfi Coast of Italy. Hubby and I went for an early morning stroll by the little beach, following paths carved in to the rocks right next to the ocean. On our way back we were met with the sight of people arguing. It was three elderly ladies and two gentlemen in the water. Hands waving in the air, gesturing, talking wildly. I actually felt a bit afraid. It seemed that someone could be drowned soon. This was serious. That’s until we got to the beach and saw them up close. They were talking and laughing loudly, hands flying through the air as they told their stories. No arguing there, they were just Italian!
La Praia beach, Amalfi Coast, Italy
History (and landmarks)
I love history. Ever since school. (I don’t think the fact that my history teacher was kind of handsome had anything to do with it; I’ve managed to maintained my love for historic things years after his looks faded!)
Going to cathedrals, museums, visiting old squares and castles, monasteries – I love it, love it, love it! It is just such an amazing privilege to see something from hundreds of years ago, that has survived all this time. And not to see in on tv or in a magazine, but in ‘real life’. I am forever changed by it. Afterwards, if I see a place I’ve been to on television, I can’t help but see it in a different light, knowing that my footsteps were also once there.
It’s impossible to pick a highlight. Each place is absolutely special in its own right. However, the first cathedral we ever saw was the Notre-Dame de Reims in Reims, France. Because it was the first, it will always have a special place in my heart.
Notre-Dame Des Reims facade
The back is just as beautiful
(Although, I must admit, the Eiffel Tower has some hypnotic power over me. On each visit to Paris, whenever we pass it on foot, in a bus, on a boat, doesn’t matter how many pictures I have taken, I always have to take just one (or ten) more!)
Fresh produce markets, i.e. food and wine
We really love good food and wine, so it is such a thrill to try new things. Each time we leave on holiday we go with a list of ‘must-try’ foods and we always come back with newfound favourite recipes that we will continue to make for the rest of our lives.
Les Halles, Avignon, from the outside
Inside, anything your heart desires
The fresh produce markets are incredible. In South Africa we don’t really have something similar and on the scale as we’ve encountered in Europe. Because we really enjoy cooking we prefer staying in small apartments so that we can have cooking facilities. This means we get to shop at the fresh produce markets to our hearts content and then bring it back to our little place to cook.
Our own old blue door with our apartment just above the little pizzeria
Last year we visited Avignon. We stayed in a wonderful little apartment in the center of the old city. Just down the road (at 18 Place Pie) was Les Halles (the market). It was the best experience going there, picking up some ingredients and then heading back to our little home away from home. Normally when I walk in the streets I always wonder what is behind the old doors and this time we could open up our very own old door!
We spent many evenings cooking our hand-picked local produce, enjoying great local wine and looking out from our balcony at life going by in Avignon below. We really felt local and not like tourists at all.
Then… I also love the planning before the time – that is almost a holiday in itself. And photography. Hubby and I are keen photographers, so capturing these amazing places on camera is such a joy. And fridge magnets. We bring back a fridge magnet from every town we visit. We ‘reveal’ them back home over some wine, reminiscing about each place as each little magnet gets its place of honour of the fridge. And then there is…
I hope you like travelling, because then you will know why I have fallen in love with it. And I could tell you about all our favourite places Hubby and I have discovered.
We haven’t travelled much internationally. Wait, that’s not true. We have just not travelled as much as I would like to (i.e. permanently!) That being said, we’ve seen quite a few places that we’ve always dreamt about, like Paris.
If you like a little bit of humour, you will enjoy this little story about our first time there.
Hubby and I eventually got tired of the hotel’s continental breakfast (only so many chocolate croissants one can have) that we really needed something familiar for breakfast. This specific day we were on our way to Les Invalides and we decided to look for something in the vicinity. We settled on a small coffee bar. It was run by an elderly gentleman. His English wasn’t great but we managed to agree on an order of scrambled eggs on a slice of toast (not on the menu, I have to admit, but he was very willing to make it especially for us). We were excited! Soon enough he was back. “Voilà!” Hubby and I were presented with a gigantic sized omelette, filled with what seemed to be a solid block of cheddar cheese… each! What could we do? “Merci-beaucoup!”
Les Invalides, Paris, where Napoleon’s tomb lies under the golden dome
If you appreciate a little encouragement every now and then, I can tell you that anything is possible if you put your mind to it. I’m a bit of a quote person and a favourite is one from Walt Disney. He said “All our dreams can come true, if we have the courage to pursue them.” I certainly don’t have the answers but I will gladly share whatever it is that I have figured out for myself along the way.
Made it all the way to the Arc de Triomphe
And if you enjoy food, I could tell you about wonderful places we’ve discovered, or I could offer you a recipe now and then. (I’m by no means an accomplished cook, but I enjoy it enough to try it often! Or is it that I enjoy eating so much…?!)
One of my favourite chef’s is Rick Stein and in his book “Rick Stein’s French Odyssey” he has this recipe for small, shell-shaped French sponge cakes, called madeleines. I’ve served as a light dessert many times. It even has mother-in-law’s stamp of approval and that says a lot, because she really is a great cook. It is very easy and quick to make.
Madeleines
(makes 24)
Ingredients:
3 medium eggs
100g caster sugar
Zest of one lemon
100g plain flour, sifted (and a little bit extra for dusting)
1 tsp baking powder
100g butter, melted (and some more for greasing the moulds)
1 tbsp clear honey
NB: You do need a madeleine baking tray to give them their unique shell shape. I actually found a silicone version and it works perfectly.
Method:
Brush your madeleine moulds with the melted butter and leave for a few minutes until the butter has slightly set. Dust with flour, and tap out any excess flour. This will ensure that only a small amount of flour sticks to the butter, which helps the madeleines turn out the mould easier and it also gives them a nice golden finish. (I do this even though I use a silicone mould.)
Preheat your oven to 190°C
Put the eggs and sugar into a bowl and whisk until the batter becomes thick and mousse-like (about 3 minutes with an electric whisk). Whisk in the lemon zest.
Sift the plain flour and baking powder together and gently fold in, followed by the melted butter and honey. Place the batter in the fridge and leave for 15 minutes to thicken slightly.
Fill each of the madeleine moulds three-quarters full with the mixture and bake for 10 minutes until puffed up and golden. Leave to cool and then remove gently from the moulds.
In this recipe, Rick Stein serves it with vanilla ice cream and vanilla poached apricots. However, in all the time I’ve been making this I have never been able to find fresh apricots, so I always opt for tinned apricots. Works just as well in my opinion.
When plating, put two madeleines to one side of each of a shallow dessert bowl. Spoon some of the apricots and a little syrup alongside and add a scoop or two of ice cream.
My madeleines, with Rick Stein’s French Odyssey in the background
Lastly, I hope that you will find enjoyment in travelling, laughing, finding a bit of encouragement and eating with me!
Everyone has them. Things that you save for only those ‘special occasions’. And boy, the occasion needs to be pretty special. Why else would you feel up to first wiping the dust and cobwebs away?
To illustrate my point, herewith a few of my ‘elite’ little items (with the corresponding special occasion it was last used at):
Glass salad bowl from Spain: Yet to be used; still waiting for that special occasion to materialise.
Tablecloth bought in Arles, France: Hubby’s birthday in November; used once.
Dinner set: OK, this comes out a bit more frequent, but it is packed in its own little cupboard. It makes an appearance on Mothers’ Day, Fathers’ Day, birthdays and Christmas.
Chanel No. 5: Only when I’ve carefully considered whether the occasion is really worthy. (I’ve had it for 2 years now; quarter used!)
Crystal champagne glasses picked up at a charity shop: Birthdays. (Nope, not even new year. By the time the champagne must be popped, too much champagne has already flowed. Can’t risk it!)
Moleskin notebook… notebookS…: I confess! I have a thing for books/journals in general. I never want to write in them. It feels like I will somehow spoil them. But I keep getting them. So, when last used? Never!
Today though I realised that I’ve carried this vice for protecting beautiful things for exceptional circumstances to my writing as well. There are many beautiful things I want to write about, but each time I contemplate putting fingers to keyboard I’m scared that I will spoil it. How can I write about something special with inadequate words? How can I describe something that is indescribable?
I’ve been thinking about it and the only way I see calls for me to just go for it! Caution to the wind!
Here’s to laying the table with the French table cloth and that packed away dinner set, while serving salad in the Spanish bowl, and having champagne out of crystal champagne glasses while wearing a little bit of Chanel No. 5!
I won’t lie – I spent quite a bit of time deciding on a name for my blog. I wanted a name that resonated with me. That told my story. That gave a glimpse of who I am and what I am about. (And from my first post, New Beginnings, clearly it also had to be perfect – to me, in any case!)
There were a few contenders but ultimately, over a glass of wine and testing it with hubby, it became apparent that WorkFoodHome was the one. Why?
Well, for me, that’s my life in a nutshell really. I work, I eat and if I’m not at work, I’m at home (mostly). Sounds terribly depressing, doesn’t it?! But is it really? I suppose it could be, but it doesn’t have to be. It’s the reality in which we live. (And it’s not just my reality, but a reality shared by most people.) How I choose to live that reality is up to me though…
So that is what WorkFoodHome is about. Creating my reality every day. It includes the people (and dogs!) I love and share my life with, it’s about the things I choose to occupy my mind with, the experiences I have, the places I visit. It’s about good food and wine, things that I enjoy doing, things that makes me happy. It’s about what matters to me, all while trying to live as positively as I can.
So that’s WorkFoodHome – And A Life In Between.
Food!
Looking back at my first post it is evident that I suffer from a bit of performance (perfection) anxiety! Before I took that first step I was so caught up in my own head – what would people think… what do I want people to think – that it kept me from making a start for quite some time (years, if I am honest). Now, about a month into this journey, I am so happy that I finally did it!
The most rewarding thing so far has been rediscovering my creative side – my love for writing and photography. (Although hubby would say that my smile when I receive a “like” on a post or a new follower can also be likened to that of a child on Christmas morning!)
I’m not sure when I will feel that I am ‘successful’/not failing at blogging. For now, I am just reveling in the experience and I am utterly enjoying it. And I hope that somewhere in my stories someone will find encouragement to make stories of their own, to try something new, maybe take time to reflect or to just take that next step!
WorkFoodHome 