Wednesday 23 April 2014

veal stew with fried potatoes...

Soooooo... how was Easter?! Bunnies, eggs, roasted lamb maybe? Got a good rest? Your family got to your nerves (again...)? Got to sense the rebirth of nature?

I just got back from Porto and no, I cannot say that this time was magical, amidst bureaucracy that had to be taken care of, a struck of bad luck with the weather and an acute gastro-whatever that required a brief hospitalisation, it was rather... hmmmm... ok than amazing.

However, every cloud has a silver lining and mine was no exception... Because even in the roughest of times one can always find a reason to smile. Mine was the veal stew with the fried potatoes.
No, not "any" veal stew and not "any" fried potatoes. No. It was the most succulent, juicy, ready to dissolve in your mouth veal, cooked with just a little bit of fresh tomato, having been let to simmer for what appeared to have been days, the perfect amount of salt, the perfect amount of sauce... And the potatoes, golden, tasty, freshly fried real potatoes that just screamed "let me soak in the sauce" (and I did hear them, I'm not deaf...)! Just delicious!

Ahhhh... what a meal... Right by the river Douro, offering the most beautiful views, under a warm bright sun and with the best company I could have asked for! And so I did smile! A lot! because after all, a bit of good luck within the bad luck times is the most precious thing and I got it! And it was better than shoes!

Friday 11 April 2014

plastic, blue memories...

They were blue like the Greek summer sky. They were made of plastic, both the soles and the upper part, the inside I bet it was plastic as well but I cannot remember after all these years... I do remember though that feeling of guilty pleasure every time I would put them on along with that of the pavement in my grand mother's back yard through the flimsy soles... and that they were gorgeous!

I was about six years old. And I had flat feet. Or, at least, that's what they told me to explain why I would have to wear those hideous, black or brown laced booties (replaced by equally hideous wooden orthopaedic sandals in the summer... during spring, when it was still chilly, I had to wear socks with those, slippery, nylon socks that made me loose my sandals when running in the school yard...) and not cute little girls shoes like everyone else...

My grandma bought me the blue ballet flats... I loved them nearly as munch as I loved her! Oh, my feet looked so pretty in those! So delicate! So feminine! But I had to wear them only when I was at her place, secretly from my mother who would not allow it... And I doubt I will ever forget the day I got caught with them on, run and hid under the bed and heard my grandma trying to protect me, calm her down so that I don't get a beating...

I still remember the afternoon sun getting in the room from the half closed blinds, the tiny silver flakes of dust dancing around me in the breeze, annoyed by my presence under the bed, I remember my ice cream that should be melting on the kitchen table, my fear of being punished for not following the rules and the excruciating pain of looking at my beautiful, cheap, blue, little girl's shoes that seamed like I would never put on again... I was right... they were confiscated... But my blue memories never were!!! And they are better than shoes ;)

Tuesday 8 April 2014

commitments...

I discovered very recently (and to my astonishment...) that I am not a commitment-phobe... so it is "only" boats and cable carts and roller coasters and various kinds of beasts and multi-legged creatures and food that is not completely dead and... oh, well, the list of things that freak me out is long but at least it does not comprise commitment! Phewwww...

Though I do demonstrate a certain... how do I put it... aversion for traditional commitments, such as marriage which is an excellent example, I on the other hand feel compelled to commit a lifetime to Pilates (another wonderful example). The former gives me a sense of sheer panic and the mere sound of it is repulsive and kinda does compare with boats and cable carts etc. whereas the latter fills my heart with joy and images of a future with me as an 80-year-old on the reformer are welcomed in my mind bringing a feeling of security and calmness...

So it is not the idea of doing something forever that scares the hell out of me, ergo not a commitment-phobe, but it's the idea of doing something I don't like for whatever period of time that sends cold sweat down my spine... I don't like the idea (to put it mildly...) of signing a contract to stay together forever with the man I love, I wish that we both feel good doing so everyday because we actually want to. But I love the idea of spending the rest of my years, hopefully many many of those, exercising with religious discipline in the only way that I actually like which is Pilates.

And yes, I would say that this kind of commitment is indeed better than shoes! Not to mention that after 3-and-a-half years of Pilates I have finally managed to shape up to wearing high heels far more often than I used to! Hurray! ;)