Go Amish

One of the reasons I enjoy travelling, is getting away from all the clutter. Even though I am a minimalist at heart, in an active family of five, things tend to accumulate over the years. The fact that I have a “one thing in, one or more things out” policy, doesn’t seem to have any effect on the situation at hand.

Some of us hang on to stuff because it one day may come in handy, if nothing else as an outdated rarity in a curiosity collection.

Others have yet to discover the practicality of drawers and cabinets and like to have their stuff scattered about them. Thus believing their belongings easily accessible, but instead hopelessly irretrievable in the frantic moment when a certain object is a matter of life and death, at least judging from the frenzied behavior of the persons in question.

Admittedly, I am not without blame, having several weak points of my own. Holding on to, and acquiring things I know I can, but do not want to live without…

Not even on vacation; Again, in principle, I am a light traveler, but the scale in the Baggage Drop repeatedly proves me wrong; I can actually almost swear I on several occasions have heard it moaning when I’ve heaved my suitcase on top of its already heavily tried “belly”...

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UpsideDown /To my Friends

What is up, and what is down

Who’s the “smartie”, who’s the clown

Who is wrong, and what is right

What’s my song, and who’s my light

I'm confused, my brain abused

The world so packed, my mind feels whacked

Time flies so fast,the days ahead

are soon the past; right by us sped.

We need to hold on to what’s good

We must be bold, remove our hood;

Find our own quest, and never rest

but do our best, to pass the “test”

And still take time for the sublime

Find peace and calm amidst all qualm
Here you come in, my friend, my mate

You help me “spin”, to meet my fate

In your advice, there is no vice

idea and thought, with love is fraught

You lift me up, when I am blue

You fill my cup, with ev’ry hue,

enrich my days, my mind expand

In thousand ways you hold my hand

With you I can both laugh and cry

With you I plan to live and die!:-)

  

“A loaf of bread, a jug of wine, and thou”

Omar Khayyam, 11^th century

Power Bread 
or..The power of bread

A hefty bread, with a full taste and providing long lasting energy. Packed with great nutrients; proteins, fibers, vitamins, minerals, essential fatty acids and slow/beneficial carbs. Enjoy!

For recipe see   Power Bread
See also FoodStuff

FoodStuff

Searching heart, kidneys and …stomach, I think I may be a tad above averagely interested in food, the pleasure of eating it, preparing it, experimenting with it and finding out what it does to my taste buds, me in general, my  family, friends, acquaintances, everybody else and the world as such.

The saying “You are what you eat” has never made much sense to me. I mean, I eat cod and salmon, and even like swimming a lot, but does that make me a fish? I don’t get it. If it went “You are how you eat”, it would be easier to follow; are you stuffing things down your throat like people stuff food down geese to make foie gras (shame on them), or are you glass eyed, oblivious of your surroundings, savoring every piece finding its way into your mouth, enjoying its rendezvous with each and every one of your taste buds?  Now that would reveal something about your disposition at least, your view of life and if throwing food after you is feeding a humanoid or the equivalent of satisfying an accepting and appreciative lover.

Studies have actually shown that how we eat and our attitude towards what we eat is of surprisingly great importance to how the food is “received” by our system. We should, the study says, glean knowledge from people living in e.g. the southern part of Europe (Asia, Africa, Arabia, South America…, actually from most other places than Western Europe), where both preparing and enjoying food is a social event taking up long stretches of time and talking about it is more about where it comes from, color, texture and tastes, than dry, nutritional facts.

But of course, what we eat does matter...

Read FoodStuff

Trying Cabinet

Coming home from vacation is always nice. I love again having round the clock access to my own refrigerator, filled with what I personally have picked out and purchased. Although opening it immediately upon arriving home occasionally has some interesting aspects to it as you discover that your fridge in your absence has breeded some very interesting, often both hairy and a little bit scary, life forms.

The freedom to do what I please within my own four walls, without regard to others, is also something I cherish. Even though this is not a habit of mine, I enjoy being able to walk around naked until, when I feel like it, I put my clothes on. Of course, I only do this when our in all other respects very liberated teenagers are not around; When it comes to parents they are extremely prudish, among other things preferring to believe, and being adamant, that they, as babies, were delivered by the stork.

Walking around the garden, saying hello to plants and trees, picking up a fallen branch here, removing a dead leaf there, is always a source of contentment, a way of getting grounded,  realigning mind, body and space after one or several plane flights. I try not to focus on all the weeding and watering that needs to be done, which, of course, I only succeed with in the wintertime when the weeds, along with everything else, is covered in several feet of snow…

Weeding is not the only thing that catches up with you when the holidays are over, and soon, if you don’t watch out carefully, or come from outer space…, you are back on the good old treadmill. One of the things that needs a lot of attention after a journey, particularly in a family of five, is the laundry. Drying facilities are then of the utmost importance. Any housewife (excuse me guys, but if you have taken on the responsibility for this Sisyphean task that no one actually takes notice of or give you credit for, you are exceptions to the rule, and may God and your wife forgive you all your sins and grant you access to Heaven!) can imagine my consternation when I’d hung the first load in the drying cabinet, turned the switch and…

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Impulsive Skiing

Having just settled down to work I heard an sms tick in. A good friend of mine, and tour pal, suggested skiing, and I did not put up much resistance. It was a beautiful day with clear, blue skies and a kindly sun, in spite of all the snow, definitely inclined towards springtime. The dog did need its walk, as did I, so work would have to be put on hold, ski heaven was waiting. 

We did not have a specific goal for our tour, but set out, walking and talking companionably, as we often do, about everything under the sun. After a while we got up on a plateau and looked over to a hill with a ski lift, the slopes teaming with skiers. I got all excited as these were slopes I frequented for many years in my youth, and burst out: “Look, the lift is open, how fun!”. My friend looked at me, and replied jokingly: “Well, why don’t we have a go!”. “Great idea!”, I said, not getting the joke at all, and set off down the knoll on which we were standing, towards the bottom of the lift. After a short while my companion followed and caught up with me, laughing and shaking his head.

Kids were all over, in the lift, on the slopes, and stretched on the snow, enjoying a respite from school, the day and their lunches. All of a sudden my dog took off, nose to the ground and stopped next to a couple of boys, where he eagerly gobbled down a couple of hotdogs and some other discards from an obviously too substantial lunchpack. I was barely able to get hold of him as there were lots of goodies lying around, all ripe for the picking. I put on his leach and went down to talk to the man in charge of the lift. It turned out that we had belonged to the same ski club, that he now was a fan of randonné or alpine touring and that we of course could ride the lift, for free! Using a T-bar lift with slender cross country skis is not the easiest of endeavors, and having a short legged dog in tow doesn’t exactly make it less difficult...

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Los Hervideros

Los Hervideros (The boiling pots) and El Golfo are in many ways opposites. Just a couple of kilometers separate them, they are both the result of havoc created by volcanic activity, and yet the two are in stark contrast to each other. Where the latter is a symphony in colors and hues, Los Hervideros is, disregarding the water for a second, a monochromatic phenomenon, confined within a restricted spectrum of blacks and browns. El Golfo, despite its turbulent origin, comes across as a haven of peaceful harmony, the elements having agreed upon a seize fire of indefinite duration, benefitting themselves and the visitor enjoying its tranquility and beauty.

In Los Hervideros there is no sign of imminent truce between the restless waters and the immobile rocks. Watching the water’s work upon the rocks conjures up an image of determined resilience on the part of the cliffs, steadfastly, but not successfully, trying to withstand the constant attacks of the sea. The lava is now motionless, rendered helpless in its coagulated form, stopped dead in its tracks when the molten, fluid plasma from the bowels of the earth met its destiny and conqueror in form of the cool oceans. It is dead, but it won’t lie down, at least not voluntarily, and only little by little...

To read more ... Los Hervideros