And this is what you missed II.

What got me excited…

 

 

Remember that one? Yes, this was unfortunately playing over and over in my head last week. Probably because I finally decided on my travel destination for August…drum roll please… Vietnam. Yes, I am perfectly aware that Bangkok is not in Vietnam, but the trips I’m currently looking at all start there. So when this song got stuck, I thought it could be exciting to add a crazy night or two in Bangkok to kick-start the adventure.

What made me nostalgic…
My first boyfriend got engaged. It didn’t come as a surprise, yet it still hit me just a little bit. I haven’t really thought about him or even spoken to him in years, but it’s still somewhat strange to realize that he is really and officially not mine anymore and that our plans for happily-ever-after didn’t come true. I guess I just felt sorry for a moment for my former 17-year old me, who so believed in this first love.

What made me pretty…
On Saturday I got a haircut at The Lobby for the first time. I was a bit scared upon walking in; if there was ever a place made in hipster heaven this is it. But to my surprise I learned that you can still entrust your hair to a stylist who is so hip(ster) that he wears a little hat while he cuts your hair and serves BOS ice tea. My hair now looks awesome and yes, I let it down big time at night!

What made me sad…
You also missed my Mum’s birthday yesterday. And so did I. I hate the fact that I am always far apart from at least half my family, especially on those days when there is roast beef and bubbles. Happy happy, Mami!

Poor me.

Yesterday was Bastille Day and I read a comment on Twitter that said 'The French invented kissing and toast.' The toast reference struck me as a bit odd (I thought toast was a truly American invention) and the kissing of course reminded me of the Frenchman, which was no good. I was also having quite a busy and productive day so to make it all better I decided to treat myself with the epiphany of comfort food: The Poor Man's Meal. As you will without a doubt already know, it is pasta. It manages to be even more comforting than all the other kind of pasta dishes as it originated from my Mum, with a bit of help from Jamie Oliver I think, and then made its way to New York, where it became a staple amongst Gladys, Marie, and I. It not only tastes great, but has a double amount of good memories attached.
My Mum started the craze years back and has slightly altered the recipe over time to suit her tastes, but whenever I go home, I know it is the first meal I will get and I get it in the original version.
Once I introduced it to the girls in New York, they loved it so much, that we started making it all the time. It quickly became known as ‘The Poor Man’s Meal’ as we would especially make it towards the end of the month when money was tight. WhenI tell you now what is in it, you will think us the most decadent college students ever. You cannot get any further from Ramen Noodles (Two minute noodles for the South Africans) than that.
Zucchinis are drenched and fried in lots of virgin olive oil with crushed chillies. Pasta is tossed into that and than topped with mountains of Parmesan. My mother would add a bit of saffron to it as well, which I remember because I have managed to mess up quite a few of her good fabric napkins over time. Last night I used Turmeric instead, but even without the saffron it is by no means close to Ramen or any other student budget appropriate meal. Why? Well, as you can tell by my end-result picture – I am and always was incapable of not covering my entire plate with real Parmesan.

P.S. In case you wonder, the picture above represents amounts of cheese appropriate for picture taking and was tripled right afterwards for eating.

First timer's curriculum.

I stumbled across a blog called My First Time. While the most recent post was about parents getting divorced and therefore a bit too depressing for a foggy Tuesday, it is still a great project and got me thinking. Thinking about my firsts. Not the too obvious ones like kisses, dates and loves, but some more and admittedly random ones, which are however memorable in my life.


Economics
My first time I bought pair of shoes which cost more than $100. A lot more actually. I saw them on a lady I worked for in New York and had to have them. I played a game of tug and war over my credit card with the sales assistant. He won and I asked: “What’s your return policy?” Apparently they do not appreciate this question at Barney’s. Unfortunately for my credit card it was a first, but not a last.


Arts & Culture
My first time I remembered a French phrase without seeing it written up on a blackboard. Fais de beaux rèves. It took only five nights. My Dad always taught me the best way to learn a language is to be in bed with a native speaker. Always listen to your father.


Communications
My first time I realized communication is vital in any relationship was in Malta. I was 13, he was 15. I spoke English and German, he spoke Maltese and Italian. A relationship can only go so far when you are forced to look into each other’s eyes all day without saying a piep. That may be for a girl at least. We like to talk.


Journalism
My first interview was with an actor who was the lead in my home town theatre. I had a major crush on him and decided interviewing him for our school paper was the perfect way to get close to him. Not sure what the catholic, all girls, nun school would have thought if they knew I was just using the school paper as an excuse to get to shag the local celebrity. Not that that ever happened, but a girl could dream.


Geography
My first time I was trying to drive from town to Claremont ended at the airport. Don’t ask. N2 and M3 turn offs are confusing to newbies. I ended up seeing the Springboks in their team bus though. That made for a reasonable excuse to any guy who didn’t know me better. “Yes, I looove the Springboks. In fact I drove all the way to the airport to wave them goodbye.”


Creative Writing
My first letter I wrote to my mother was written in pencil on my pink Hello Kitty note pad. She was visiting a friend for a weekend and I was devastated she was leaving me alone. I put on a brave face and wrote: “Dear Mummy, don’t be so sad that you are leaving, you will be back soon.” I put two of my favourite stickers on it, stuck it in a little ink cartridge box from my fountain pen and added two of my milk teeth. I think the teeth were quite a big deal - since I was giving them to her, I couldn’t give them to the tooth fairy ergo no present for me. Also my first time of true selflessness.


Anatomy
My first time I taught yoga went actually not so bad. Except my sweet Germanican accent managed to say ‘use your breasts*to massage your stomach’. Which would be quite an accomplishment if you think about it. If you want to have a good laugh in a yoga class, come to mine. I still say it at times.
*Breaths was actually what I was trying to say.


PE
My first time I bought a vibrator. My flatmate and I realized the only place where shops are open on a Sunday afternoon is on the Reeperbahn. In the attempt to be discreet the shop put our ‘products’ in an unlabeled black bag. We then realized that every shop on the Reeperbahn does the same. Open secret I call it. We realized that too late though and only when a bouncer in front of a strip club shouted: “Honey, did you get batteries as well?”


Gotta love firsts. And then luckily you live and hopefully learn.

I'd rather go naked.

Than not wear a scarf.

Due to the fish cake debacle yesterday I realized that I missed the single most important item on the What I Wore Today list: A scarf. And then I decided that it is actually worth a post on its own, because....drum roll...I love scarves. I adore them. I won’t leave the house without one. Ever.

 I had a friend in high school who always wore turtlenecks. We teased her whether she would also wear a bathing suit with a turtleneck attached. I am the same with scarves. I will wear one in any weather and in any situation. In the summer big cotton wraps, in the evening silk squares, in winter (yes, even in Cape Town) anything cashmere. Nothing completes an outfit like a scarf, nothing makes me feel cosier and for no other item of clothing can I justify a bigger spending budget.

Now after years of cramming them into a box or drawer I finally have a place that provides the perfect spot for my collection:

There are probably a few more strewn around the flat who missed the photo-op, but this is essentially it. It’s a small but precious assembly.

The scarf love may be another trade I get from my Mum. Since I can remember she will wear a silk scarf rolled up and tied around her neck. Last winter I got very lucky as I asked her for hand-me-downs from her own closet. Even luckier when I realized, the guys who robbed all my money out of my bag upon return to Cape Town, had left the real treasure: a tiny bundle of silks with the tiny printed names of Emilio Pucci, Yves Saint Laurent and Hermès.

My favourite scarf these days is this little striped beauty. I got it in NY last August and haven’t taken it off since. That fact led to the following conversation with my little niece...

Olivia: Why do you always wear the same stripy scarf?

Me: Because I just got it and it’s my favourite.

Olivia: Aah (not sounding very convinced).

Seeing my scarf collection in all its’ glory when she came to visit led to this interlude...

Olivia: Why do you have so many scarves?

Me: So my little niece won’t bug me that I always wear the same scarf.

Olivia: (giggle)

Children are easily amused. Me too. As long as I have my scarf.

Confessions of a Pastaholic II

Chapter 1 - The true beginning…disputed.

In my family run two slightly conflicting story on how my obsession with Pasta began. My Dad’s story (and he is sticking to it) is quick and simple: My parents went on a trip to Venice shortly after they were married. That is were I was conceived.

Venice + Honeymoon = Pasta obsessed child to follow nine months later. Get it?

My Mum’s story is slightly less romantic, but somewhat more plausible (I mean if Venice had such an impact on my eating habits shouldn’t pigeons also be my favorite animals?). According to her, my parents went on a trip for three weeks when I was a toddler and left me with my aunt in France. The ‘problem’ apparently started when we all returned home and from this time onwards I would request Pasta every night for supper. It turned out that my French aunt had seen nothing wrong with feeding me Pasta every dinner while my parents were. I suppose it was the time of the day were I was most upset and missing my parents. Quick at hand was her solution: feed the child some Pasta. Warm. Comforting. Just like having Mami around. And I loved it. And probably realized (in an unconscious toddler mind kind of way) that the only thing better than Pasta, was Pasta made for me by my Mum.

I was a very willful child, so I would usually get my Pasta. My Mum was very quick to teach me basics in the kitchen, so she would get some quiet time.