Dreaming of a White Christmas

After just 8 and a half weeks back home in Australia, here we are again in the northern hemisphere . . .  this time joined by our adult children Jazz and Thom. It’s Christmas Eve in Upper Farringdon UK as I write this post and the kitchen is in a flurry of activity with preparations for Christmas lunch tomorrow. My father in-law Cyril has the fireplace in working order for the first time in 20 years and my sister in-law Julie has lovingly decorated the mantelpiece with Christmas cheer. Cyril tells us that it definitely won’t be snowing tomorrow or any time soon due to the rain an drop in temperature . . . .  but that doesn’t discourage me, I’m still dreaming (and believing) for a white Christmas. For those of you who also celebrate the birth of Christ, have a very happy and joyful Christmas!

An Evening In Provence

For as long as I can remember I’ve been intrigued with France and fantasised about living there for a little while to fully soak up the culture. In my final years of school I even elected to study the French language, knowing that this subject held no weighting towards my “Tertiary Entrance Score”. Various travel shows and movies have further fuelled my interest in Provençal France particularly the film “A Good Year” and the book “A Year In Provence”. So when the opportunity arose to experience Provence first hand on our way back to England, I jumped at the chance!

We stayed in the seriously gorgeous hillside village of Bonnieux located just above Château La Canorgue, a boutique organic vineyard where A Good Year was filmed. Within minutes of checking into our room at Hôtel Restaurant Panoramique César I insisted we go in search of the Château La Canorgue vineyard. The Château was less than a mile from where we were staying and before I knew it we were driving along the very same driveway as seen in the movie! As we walked around the grounds of the Château I was captivated (in case you didn’t notice) while Jon lovingly accompanied me, not really understanding what I was so excited about. I just never imagined when I saw this movie five or six years ago that I would get to see this beautiful setting with my own eyes! Of course before leaving we purchased a few bottles of red wine  . . . .  which we later enjoyed in England with fresh figs, blue cheese and a re-run of A good Year.

Returning up the hill to Bonnieux we strolled around the village and then stopped for a drink at one of the village bars. While there we got talking to a charismatic American family who told us about a good restaurant we could try for dinner called L’Arome. We decided to check out this restaurant and turned up (without a reservation) at 7.30pm. There were only a few tables occupied but nun the less they could not fit us in for another hour  . . . perhaps our punishment for not booking? You know how the French can be . When we returned over an hour later the restaurant was totally full and we had to wait a little longer for a table to become available. Luckily for us we ended up being seated at one of the best tables in the house. I started perusing the menu and noticed Jon went straight for the wine list. After carefully studying the wines he looked up through his spectacles and announced we were going to order a bottle of Châteauneuf-du-Pape, a wine Jon knew from his days as a waiter on cruise liners. Apparently the Americans would go nuts over this wine and Jon was really intrigued, so much so he was willing to spend 120 Euros on the bottle!  And why not? It’s not everyday that one has the chance to enjoy a lovely meal in Provence. In short the wine was divine and beautifully smooth, and the food was delicious. All this added up to a very memorable night in Provence.

In the morning the view from our balcony was spectacular. There was a low hanging mist sitting at the bottom of the village covering the valley below and the houses within it. The landmark church was among the fog too with just its steeple rising out above the fluffy white clouds. We enjoyed a breakfast of fresh croissants and coffee and then regrettably we had to commence our 10-hour drive up to Calais in northern France. Saying goodbye to Bonnieux we made a promise to return, but for a longer stay next time.

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Downsizing

I’m so chuffed when opportunities arise for me to downsize, especially when it comes to personal belongings. A year ago I bought this beautiful Blubird purse (pictured) because I wanted something flatter and lighter to travel to India with (my usual purse was thick and bulky like most women’s purses). The plan was to revert back to my bulky purse when I returned from India but I got used to traveling a bit lighter so I carried on with this new flatter, prettier option.

Anyway a year later and my beloved Bluebird purse is falling apart at the seams literally, so I start searching for a new purse. Looking through all the bits and bobs that I keep in my purse I realise that I don’t need  half of the stuff in there . . .  which means theoretically I could downsize again?

I have in mind the kind of purse that would suit me to a tea. A vintage style leather coin purse with a clip fasten and two compartments, one for money and one for cards. I look on eBay and come across a perfect match. It’s a second-hand dark blue leather purse with a camel coloured felt interior  . . . and a starting bid of 99 pence! I end up being the only bidder and it’s mine for just £1. It arrived in the post just now and it’s so lovely and in excellent condition. Meanwhile I’ve also sold a TOMTOM GPS on eBay for £37 ($58 AU). It feels so good to reuse, recycle, purge and live with less stuff. Less is definitely more and one persons trash is often someone else’s treasure.

So what about you? Done any purging or simplifying lately?

A Perfect Night In

I’m like a pig in mud tonight. Jon and Cyril (my father inlaw) have gone down to the pub to catch up with some friends and I’ve opted to stay in. This is a rare treat for me these past 6 months. Anyway here I am in country Hampshire England cooking up a Tortilla Española while sipping a glass of red wine from Chateau La Canorgue in France (where they filmed “A Good Year” with Russel Crowe, more on that in my next post) and nibbling on some of Cyril’s vintage cheddar cheese. I’m off to the lounge now to put my feet up and watch Grand Designs . . . .  for me it just doesn’t get much better than this. It’s pure bliss.

 

Like Mother, Like Daughter

Today it dawned on me like never before how the things that are most important to me in life very much reflect the aspirations of my Mother. My Mum Julia passed on from this life seven years ago at the young age of 58. I loved my Mum deeply, and as a mother I knew her intimately . . . . but at times since her passing I’ve wondered how much a really knew or understood her as a person. I mean as an individual without the roles and responsibilities that come with raising a family. Who was my mother really with out all of this?

This is a question that perhaps we don’t think to ask about our parents. As children (no matter what our age) many of us tend to view our parents as perpetual helpers and support mechanisms for our own lives, as opposed to individuals with their own interests and goals to pursue.

It’s only recently that I’ve started to understand a little more about who my Mum was as a woman, a person, a human being. Let me tell you a little bit about her. Mum had a calling on her life  to care for those with dis-ease and the dying. She worked some 25 years at a nursing home as a personal care attendant and I remember how she bought so much joy into the otherwise mundane lives of the nursing home residents. After many years of this work mum decided to pursue formal studies in massage therapy and reflexology at an evening college. It’s only been in the last 18 months when I started going through Mum’s college material that I realised I’d been studying many of the same subjects. Acupuncture points, meridians, muscle function,  Chinese facial diagnosis and flower remedies. I’ve even been able to use some of Mum’s old text books, reference charts and the massage table she bought when I was in my teens.

I also have a significant interest in organic gardening and learning how to become more self sufficient by growing a vegetable garden (funny that, as I’m now a “Gardner” by marriage). Anyway this interest in gardening has grown (pardon the pun) in importance for me over the past year and this is what has bought on all this nostalgia about my Mum. . . .

Today as Jon and I were driving away from Sevilla  I suddenly remembered how important gardening was for my Mum. I remembered how she had a special area at the side of the house that we used to call  ”sick bay”. This is because Mum would find diseased and dying plants at garage sales and garden shops for next to nothing and nurse them back to health. It was this thought that made my eyes swell up with tears in recognition of the qualities and interests that I inherited from my Mum.

When anyone looses a loved one it’s difficult not to keep asking ourselves “Why? Why did they have to die?” and I certainly asked this question for a long time. Eventually my thoughts shifted to new questions however. You see I believe we all have some purpose to fulfil on the Earth so my question changed to “What was Mum’s purpose?”. Perhaps I’ll never know the answer to that question but as I reflect now on what I’ve written in this post  . . . I can’t help thinking that perhaps it had something to do with planting seeds that would would be harvested in the next generation. I remember a quote that kind of touches on this . . . “We save our greatest aspirations for our children“.

I can’t say why I felt so compelled to share such personal reflections with you but I hope you find some meaning for them in your own life. Until next time, besos x x

Day Trip to Portugal

Living so close to the Portuguese border we thought it would be silly not to pop ever there at some point for a little exploration and to sample some authentic Portuguese cuisine. As with most of our adventures I do some research first on Tripadvisor to determine what area to visit and most importantly where to eat. The town of Tavira sounded the most appealing destination to visit and we settled on a restaurant rated highly on Tripadvisor called “Vela 2”.

Vela 2 is situated in the small village of Santa Margarida just outside the town of Tavira. As you drive through Santa Margarida (heading towards Tavira) Vela 2 is tucked away on a street on the right hand side of the road. We missed it on our first drive through the village but when we turned around and drove back it was much more visible from the main road.

As we pulled up out the front of the restaurant we could see straight away that we’d chosen a great place to eat. The street and car park were spilling over with cars and a number of people were sitting out the front enjoying a drink. On entering Vela 2 it was even busier than we anticipated. Every table was full with Portuguese families and there was barely a space at the circular bar in the middle of the restaurant. I asked a waitress if we could have a table (in Spanish) and was easily understood. The waitress beckoned  for me to follow her so I excitedly thought she was going to squeeze us in somewhere, until she presented me with a numbered ticket. After an awkward exchange of hand gestures, me speaking Spanish and her speaking Portuguese, I surmised that we were now on a waiting list for a table. No problem, we grabbed ourselves some Portuguese beers and sat at one of the outside tables.

After about 40 minutes we were ushered to our table where we ordered a litre of local wine and enjoyed a delicious meal of; salad, bread, various platters of delicious fish (the platers just keep coming until you say “no gracias”), dessert and coffee. All of this including our drinks was just 15 Euros per person! What we really loved apart from the food was eating amongst local families and getting just a little taste of the Portuguese culture. It’s definitely been one of our most memorable experiences during this six-month adventure.

After our meal we drove for a kilometre or so on to the charming town of Tavira and walked off our lunch. Some have affectionately called Tavira the “Venice of the Algarve” due to its waterways, bridges and houses which often have steps leading down to the Gilao River, just like you see in Venice.

Village Life in Spain

Now that our convoy of visitors to Spain has finished it’s been so good to melt back into village life here in Sanlucar. I’ve been going for walks around our little pueblo (village) in the evenings and along the way observing and learning more about Spanish life. I’m still fascinated with how the Spaniards socialise in the streets and parks at night. The village really does come alive and there is not a spare park bench to be seen. Every bench is ocupado with women and men of all ages chatting, laughing and enjoying themselves while children play and ride bicycles around them. It’s quite common for residential apartment buildings to have a café bar on the ground floor. In the evening these too are bustling with activity. There is such a strong community spirit and neighbours really know each other. Can you imagine how different life would be for us westerners if every evening we spent one or two hours catching up with friends and neighbours instead of sitting in front of the TV or computer?

As I walk around the village observing all this I must look like a real alien, for the simple fact that I’m walking alone . . .  Spaniards just don’t do that. Not for safety reasons but for social reasons. Sure, if you are on your way to work or some other purpose it’s not strange for someone to be walking on their own, but at all other times I’ve always seen people walking in groups of two or more.

The morning walks are as equally interesting when I’m running a few errands. When I first arrived here I’d buy fruit and vegetables from the supermarket (because that didn’t involve too much language skills), then I stepped things up a notch and would buy them at the village market. This involved much more interaction. I would generally say in Spanish “can I have” and then just point to the item I wanted. In the last week or so I’ve made more of an effort to learn and say the names of the vegetables. The shop owners in Sanlucar are so friendly and kind, they help me with my pronunciation and compliment me when I get it right. I always walk away with a warm fuzzy feeling in my heart.

On a recent visit to the Post Office it was quite busy unlike previous occasions where there had been only one other person waiting. The Spanish have this system whereby when you walk into a shop with a queue you need to say “La ultimo?” (who’s last?). Miss saying this and you pretty much miss your turn (as I nearly did because I didn’t know about it). Anyway as a result a young man about my age got talking to me (after we sorted out he was next in line after me) and within seconds he was asking me if I was married (they don’t beat around the bush here). It was a nice little opportunity to practice my language skills and I was surprised at how I weaving my words together to form new sentences. After being served at the counter I left the Post Office and stopped by another couple of shops before running into the guy from the Post Office again. This time he asked me what my name was, introduced himself as Felipe and then gave me a kiss on each cheek. A brief conversation followed about how long I’m in Sanlucar for, how often I come into the village and what direction I live in. Such a friendly bunch of people here .

With just a few weeks left here in Spain before making our way back home (via Mardid, Barcelona, Provence and the UK) I’m enjoying the slightly cooler weather and having the time to sit quietly and write about some of the wonderful places and experiences we’ve had on this adventure. Stay tumed : )

 

Where were the tomatoes at Tomatina?

I was thinking of going to Tomatina . . .  glad I couldn’t fit it in after reading this blog post from Jen @ Life Is A Peach Blog, Where were the tomatoes at Tomatina?.

Anyone else been to Tomatina?

London Calling

Just like migrating birds, Spaniards tend to head north for their summer especially during August the hottest month of the year. We too have been taking our respite from the Sevilla heat in the lush green countryside of Hamshire County south of London. Within a few days of arriving here at Cyril’s house (my father-in-law) we were joined by my cousin Patrick from Ireland, then cousin Salvador from Spain and finally my Dad Bernie and Jeanette from Australia.

Together we’ve been doing some Rambling and taking in a few of England’s most famous landmarks including; Stonehenge, Oxford (University City), Tower of London, Tower Bridge, The London Eye, Buckingham Palace, Piccadilly Circus and Trafalgar Square.

I really enjoyed watching The Tudors TV series based upon the reign of King Henry VIII of England so I was fascinated with seeing the Tower of London where King Henry lived with all his wives. And although I’d been to London once or twice before I’d never ridden on a London Bus or one one of those gorgeous black London Taxi’s, this time I was able to do both and as such tick a few more items off The Bucket List.

In a few days we return to Spain with Dad and Jeanette where we plan to visit Morocco and Portugal after showing them around Sevilla.

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Australian Chic

Outside Australia Foster’s Lager is surprisingly popular, especially with the Pom’s here in the UK . . . . oh I mean with the British (they don’t like being called Pom’s).

As I was leaving our local Sainsbury’s supermarket in Alton yesterday I was amused to see this Foster’s Gold advertisement with the words “Australian Chic”. Of course Australian’s would definitely not use the word “Foster’s” and “chic” in the same sentence. As I looked at the poster however I had to admit . . .  the embossed bottle of chilled Foster’s Lager sitting next to some freshly cut cucumber sandwiches did actually look very um . . . chic . . . if not totally un-Australian .

Today I found this TV comercial on Youtube which perfectly sums up my sentiments on first seeing this advertising campaign, it’s bloody hilarious! Well done Fosters.