Little Flutters

We travelled to Sicily just to eat at this patisserie/bar called Caffe Sicilia. It was worth two overnight trains, a three hour drive and the complications of rescheduling an extra day, they’re closed on Mondays, as we found out, the hard way.

L to R: Some sort of milk pudding, vanilla layered cake with hazlenuts and at the bottom, a Sicilian speciality, Cassata, an almond marzipan with cream filling, icing and candied fruit.

Strawberry and tomato granita.

Basil gelato.

The aftermath.

This was all in one sitting and everything pictured was eaten by me in one hour. I still feel sick but it was worth it.

Also posted on the loved but a little neglected Tashcancook

So we’ve been travelling for two months now, halfway through our trip. I meet people that are floating through countries for one week and feel I’m doing the impossible, then I meet people that perpetually travel for six months at stretch and marvel at their level of detachment from normal life.

I haven’t had so little to think about since university holidays, except this time I’m making concrete steps and research, as opposed to when I dreamt of being a foreign correspondent while playing God of War 2.

I have stopped dreaming of my World Bank office. Now it’s all camera lens, fractured conversations and scotch. I haven’t found good scotch anywhere so I sometimes dream about downing a glass with friends. Hope that doesn’t mean D.C has turned me into an alcoholic.

There are days when we both feel down about not creating, Wendell with coding and concoting ideas for telecommunication domination and myself with world domination in general. So we spend a day in, even if it means not plodding the streets of Venice. Our brains need to feel productive or we go a little stir crazy.

If we’re going to do another extensive trip, I’m bringing my chef knife. We don’t stay at a place that has a kitchen too often but I miss my knife every time a paring knife bounces off a tomato.

I need new underwear. After being hand washed, machine washed and run through the wringer, what was once a size small Victoria’s Secret is now a large not-so-secret huge wedgie. Literally a pain in the arse. Clothes in Europe are expensive. It’s the only time I’m jealous of the over-loaded backpacking women with three dresses and matching shoes.

When I practice yoga, I notice that my calves, hip joints and hamstrings are tighter by walking all day but my hip flexors, shoulders and neck are more loose because I’m not sitting at a desk for any amount of time.

Italians talk too loud. I can never tell if they’re fighting or talking.

Carbohydrates are the cheapest thing to eat. I’m afraid I won’t look at bread again once I’m back.

The greatest luxury is getting my clothes washed by a beautiful lady, having them sun-dried and wearing them with the trace of a softener that smells like perfume.

I found a video on vimeo, it’s 29 strangers giving their opinions about other strangers. Very interesting to see how we all differ. I love creative, relatively simple shit like this that makes you think twice.

My polar opposite and extremely fashionable sister sent an express-post dress to D.C with the specific instructions to wear it in Paris. So here you are Rosh, I even wore (my definition of) make up. And it didn’t matter at all that it started raining right after this photo was taken, cause my little sister is awesome. Awh, now let’s all puke.

I felt so awkward in front of the camera. There are so many bad photos in the Lightroom bin. For someone that points the camera at others, I felt so unnatural at the other end.

Definitely not a natural model, this one.

Thanks Roshin! You’re the best!

Just because I liked the way Germany played in the World Cup did not mean I went there on a whim.* It was never on our plans but I am eternally grateful that we made the detour.

We spent ten days in Berlin and Munich. It was a great break between Spain and Italy. Order amongst the chaos. I’m going to live in the country, even briefly, before I die. It’s added to my quest in life.

People I’ve spoken to in Italy (and even an expat living in Munich) can’t understand why I love Germany so much. First of all, I love the language, to me it’s more beautiful than French or Italian. An even and quietly spoken tone, none of this up and down stuff. As one of my friends puts it, it took her two years to learn English and five years to learn German. I like it already, if nothing than for the challenge.

Everything and everyone is so efficient. Words are not wasted, which I approve. I think that’s why I like the place, it’s no nonsense and straight to the point but there’s an underlying creative streak in their art and photography that I find really unique. Oh, I love the photography I saw in adverts on the streets! Wrinkles in all of their glory and even visible pores on faces. It brought a smile to my face.

There’s so much history in Berlin, it drips off the buildings and pools at your feet. Munich has big splotches of green dispersed throughout the city and if you go an hour out, you’re surrounded by lush pastures, mountains and farmlands.

Food, of course, always comes into account. Pretzels, meatballs, cold meats and cheese. The beer is so multi-layered and full of flavour. I’m not much of a beer drinker but it was so easy (almost too easy) to drink a 1/2 a liter in twenty minutes.

It’s the first time I’ve been so emotionally moved by a country is such a short amount of time.

In other, more mundane news, I’m trying to stop use the word “like” when I really mean “said” or “a rough estimate”. If you talk to me, and there’s long awkward pauses on my end, be kind. This is a surprisingly annoying habit to break.

Berlin <3!

Bier!

View from Neuschwanstein castle.

* Disclaimer: It wasn’t because of the players’ looks, don’t assume that because I’m a woman and the players are men, I was thinking with my ovaries. Soccer just happens to be my favourite sport to watch and play (albeit badly).

We landed in Paris, spent the first couple of days sleeping irregularly and left on the fifth day for Bordeaux. Caught a train into Spain (pictures to come later) and then back into the south of France, Nice, for three days.

I ate some kind of baked good every day, macaroons, eclairs, pastries, baguette after baguette. French people will walk around eating baguettes for lunch, it’s not an outsider joke like I initially thought, they really love their bread. We’re talking lines of people out of every bakery and literally a baguette in every person’s hands as they trudge home from work. It was amazing.

There was a lot of smooching in Paris.

This is what a good creme brulee does to me.

The Lourve.

Venus de Milo, that historians believe is more likely to be Aphrodite.

Versailles. The colours killed me.

Nice, with it’s pebbled beaches. The water was warm and salty, you could float with minimal effort. Getting out proved difficult as the rocks dug into your feet, first and possibly last time I’m doing that. Give me sand caught in swimmers any day.

We visited Iguazu Falls, which was absolutely beautiful. It’s 275 falls over 2.7 kms. You cross on walkways over little rivers that lead up to the falls and the place was practically empty during high season. Bliss.

The height of the biggest drop is 82 meters. It’s pictured below and is called the Devil’s Throat. Niagara Falls, you ain’t got shit on this.

It was a real pleasure coming here straight after walking through Machu Picchu. To see old, man-made in Nature and then just Nature untouched.

We stayed in Buenos Aires for three days, where I put back on all the weight I lost on the Inca Trail. The food there is delish, never had a bad meal. And I ate completely vegetarian on the first day and ate practically only meat on the last. Best. Steak. Ever. I’m sorry to say that it was better than what I had in Brasil. And the desserts, oh, the desserts.

This was a brief affair. A couple of days in Rio but enough to watch Brasil vs Netherlands in the World Cup.

Wendell got a an injured left knee a week after the Inca Trail, which was quite odd. I realised that Portugese has nothing in common with Spanish and even less so with English. There was a lot of quizzical looks.