I'm BAAAAAACK!

Since my last post, a few things have happened.

1. I have had a baby, with a donation from my husband;
2. My spelling has deterioraetd;
3. Obama is now president of the United States, and Zuma (not Gwen Stefani's son) is president of South Africa.

My lack of posts is due to the overwhelming nature of points one and two. Sometimes things are so momentous that you suffer from an overload of material and thus, silence.

We are having the most wonderful Summer here in the kingdom.

As a South African I thought I'd be able to cope with heat but I seem to have lost that ability. Each morning I stand in confusion in front of my extensive winter and autumn wardrobe, and don't know what to wear. The small pile of summery clothes are being worn to extinction and being a pessimist realist about the weather, I don't want to spend on garments that might be worn seldom in future. Sort of trying not to jinx it. The weather is wonderful for the baby, who now has the freedom to stick his bare toes into his mouth without a sock to contend with. And of course everybody is complaining about the sunshine, which further illustrates that us humans are never happy. Or that contentment is independent of context. But that is a matter for another day, I have to go and weed...

Paris

We have been to Paris. I would like to roughly paraphrase Descartes:

'I have been to Paris, therefore I think, therefore I am.'

The magnificence of the city is overwhelming. Strange enough, this has been my second visit to Lutetia - the ancient name of Paris - and ten years ago it did not impress me as much. Maybe it's like good red wine which needs some maturity to be appreciated. Appreciated we did, and we've more or less decided to make it an annual trip for clothes shopping and much-needed artistic inspiration.


Paris excerts a gentler pressure than its cousin, London. In Londres I've always felt the frantic urge to create something formidable, to assert myself and do amazing things. In Paris I felt inspired to be creative in a way as gentle and urgent as the aquamarine waters of the Seine snaking its way through the suburbs...ok. ok....I'm getting carried away - I'll admit, the water is a murky shade of aquamarine. Coming from Pretoria where the grandest person-made structure is the Union Buildings, and with a tiny Museum of Modern Art, the grandeurs of Paris are wonderful to behold.


A few most refreshing things about Paris are the following:
1. An endless supply of outstanding quality croissants for breakfast, in a pretty standard hotel.
2. The almost total lack of Amreican shops and influences on the high streets.
3. The absence of yobbos
4. How incredibly chic everybody was.

...a very chic resident...

Friends, neighbours and countrymen, lend me your shears

We love our neighbours, Dave and Sandra. They are borderline eccentrics with a dollop of individuality and humanity added to the mix. Dave belongs to the famous McCrae-clan who owns this wee castle:



But just before you get excited and think we've hit the big time, the McCrae family is huge - 14-children-in-one-family huge. Dave has amazing memories of visiting the castle as a bairn (child) with his extended family and it seems like a magical bairnhood. Sandra comes from Germany and is an all-round great girl. She once invited us for tea on a Sunday afternoon and we dragged our stuffed selves home just after 9pm!

They are considerate. For example, their house attaches on the other side to a house that the newly arrived South African clan would like to buy. (We're thinking of establishing our own little kingdom in the kingdom that is Fife, bespoke tartan included.) In any case, they're graciously keeping prospective buyers away by frightening off those who come to look. One time a viewing couple was standing in the garden and Titus, Dave and Sandra's adorable German Shepard, chose that exact moment to poke his head through the hedge. The woman gave a shriek and they were never heard of again - she had a dog phobia.

Dave works for the council and we make fun of each other's working habits. Yesterday I was working in the garden and he sauntered out, Titus in tow.
'A-ha! I see yer not working! What are ye doing at home?!' He asked mischievously.
'I'm on holiday, duh! Why are you not working today?!' I asked.
'My lift's wife is pregnant, and she went into labour a bit early, so the work said I should sit tight, they'll let me know if they need me today,' he added cheerfully.
'You lucky b**%%%,' shouted Duan through the window, still in his pyjamas at 9:30 am.

Deli delicious

Scottish cuisine enthusiasts will be happy to know that the most culinary city out of London is, in fact, the Scottish capital. Edinburgh was consistently rated as "very good" or "exceptional" by regular diners in the city according to 90,000 independent reviews compiled to make the Harden's 2007 UK Restaurant Guide.

In a nutshell, the real reason why I've moved to Scotland. I'm no particular lover of Scottish cuisine, but the first time we visited Edinburgh I couldn't help but notice the assortment of really excellent eateries. And unassuming-looking deli, Valvonna & Crolla is the bee's knees.



We'll find any excuse to scratch the itch that is Valvonna £ Corlla. The shop itself is filled to the brim (walls included) with mostly Italian delicacies - tins of authentic pomodoro tomatoes, an assortment of pastas to die for, Amaretti biscuits, whole hams and salamis, rows of bottles of pristine olive oil (always with a bit in a small container to have a taste), freshly baked wonderbreads, and the award-winning wine collection. And this is only the deli! They also have a shop with kitchen utensils and other gems which is turned into a theatre during the Edinburgh Art Festival. Next to the Caffè Bar is an enviable collection of cookery books - causing uncontrollable oozings of saliva.



We make a point of taking friends to the place, with great results. The menu is impeccably stylish, the food fresh and just enough to satisfy. They graciously suggest wine to go with each meal, including dessert. I took my sister in law who loves good food and the whole dining experience to the point of getting tears in her eyes. And that is exactly what happened: over an antipasto of gently pickled olives, superb bread and genuine, GENUINE mozzarella di bufala, we had a weepy moment. They are also now living here.

This kingdom

Fife continues to be fascinating. It is a peculiar place, to say the least, and I decided to do some digging into its history.

This is where Fife is situated


Fife is old, real old. It is at once close to Edinburgh but the Firth of Forth, or big river mouth, has kept it isolated from the influences of the capital. Fife is also a peninsula, creating further distance between Fifers and the rest of Scotland, and consequently Fifers developed a reputation for being obstinate and keeping their distance. In 1964 the majestic Fourth Road Bridge opened, replacing the ferry system that has been in place since the 11th century. There are still some inhabitants grumbling about the bl**** brêdgie!



As the word spread of this beautiful region so close to Edinburgh, Glasgow and Perth, property has become highly sought after and it's been filling up with ootsiders like never before. An old woman, who's been living here for 25 years, tells me she is still considered a stranger!

In 1975, when all the Scottish counties were abolished for administrative purposes. Fifers, in their straightforward yet determined way, insisted on staying a kingdom. We have no king, but kingdom it is.

Snow starved

'SNOW!! SNOOOOOOWWWWWW! Wow! WOAAAAAAOOOOUUUHHHW!'
Rang out the voices of two families of snow-deprived South Africans, on the magical day that the white stuff finally descended on our town. Our neighbours thought we were crazy. There was not even one cm worth of snow lying on the ground, and the flakes falling intermittently melted before one could say 'Rudolph the red nosed, drunken piece of animal,' but we were jumping up and down inside the house before rushing outside to engage in delirious snow fights.





A sure way of identifying South Africans in Scotland.

I was disturbed the other day, however, by how much we've acclimatised to our environment. My husband and I went on a trip to London, and in the process lost our quite expensive digital camera. Disturbed not because we lost it, but because we're not really that bothered about the loss: we'll just get another one. Have we, with our valuable pounds, become careless consumers?

Familiar animals

My brother, his wife and my adorable two nieces, Emma and Anja, have arrived in Scotland. They form part of an apparent tsunami of South Africans with young kids who've come to see whether the grass is in fact greener on this side of the ocean. So far, they have not been disappointed.

The first week was spent in shell shock due to the cold climate and being squeezed into our humble Kelty abode. Another shock is how little their South African rands are worth, sjym, we look at something costing £7 and say 'That's cheap!' and their internal calculators go whizzz...brrrr...times14...THAT'S BLOODY EXPENSIVE! Maybe Christmas is not the best time of year to emigrate, but I think they've noticed and will never do it again.

The kids adore the parks. In Aberdour, which has a state-of-the-art kid's playpark, Emma declared it to be the best park ever, and they did not want to leave. Until we walked around the stunning Loch Ore and they discovered the playpark there, with a foefie slide! Anja declared that Scottish parks are much better than South Africa's - hear-hear!

No snow yet, but a round trip through the Cairngorm Mountains and Speyside made up for the disappointment. I love watching their reactions when seeing the fantastic scenery for the first time: the view of the bridges over the Firth of Forth; the sight of Edinburgh from the tiny road above Burntisland; the achingly green fields of Fife and, of course, the mountains.
Returning from our trip, my brother said: Do you realise we've seen half of Scotland in one day? Yep, so much to see in such a small space.

BEFORE

AFTER