Summer Sojourn to the Sea

I am still floating along in an Italian reverie, so lovely was our annual holiday in Levanto. This time, we invited our friends Marc and Nathalie to join us on our summer sojourn to this most perfect of Italian Rivieran towns. Marc and Nat are fellow native-Montrealers though we only met after both couples had relocated to Calgary and discovered our mutual love of yellow Labradors. I have previously blogged about how thrilled we were when they moved to Geneva with the Royal Bank of Canada.

Still for all of the years that we have known each other, we have never holidayed together. Factor in one high-energy 6-year old (J), one anxiety-ridden Labrador (their Ben), one Labrador afraid of Ben's red collar (our Murphy), two previously self-avowed non-beach people (Marc and Nat), and it would be difficult to predict the success of the holiday. Well it was a smash success!

It is hard to put into words why we are so passionate about Italy, and so particularly attached to this part of it. It's the soft ochre tones that cause Levanto to glow at sunrise and sunset, it's the passion of the small restaurant owners who take such pride in their seafood, and who delight in offering limencellos at the end of a perfect meal, it's the easy days spent on the beach, wondering through town for a foccacia lunch with an ice-cold glass of white wine, it's the gelaterias open until the wee hours of the morning, it's the coconut man on the beach hollering 'Allo, coco bella coco' and rinsing perfectly sweet crunchy slices of coconut in fresh water before handing it to you with a smile and a 'grazie'. This year it was also the glass of champagne shared with old friends on the balcony of our apartment watching the sun set over the Mediterranean.

I like this picture though blurry because it captures some of the colour of Levanto

We hiked Cinque Terre again for our 4th year, and I experienced one of those perfect life moments. The temperature was well into the 30s with little breeze, and we had walked from village #5 Riomaggiore to village #4 Manarola. We had eaten a fanastic lunch at the same restaurant in Manarola that we had with my family last year. We were not far into our walk to village #3 Corniglia when we really began to heat up, the dogs were panting heavily and our energy levels were waning.

Manarola

All beach access in the villages prohibits dogs so on we soldiered. About 10 minutes later, we encountered a small cove with cliff divers and a small path that wound down to a ladder into a little grotto. Well we sprinted down, Nat, Marc, and J stripped down to their skivvies (clever me was wearing a bikini under my clothes), and we threw ourselves into that amazing water with abandon; Murphy and Ben were in close pursuit. The water was utterly delicious and we frolicked for a long time. That perfect moment was only marred when Marc stepped on a sea urchin and received multiple spears into his foot...he is still removing them.

The little grotto we discovered outside of Manarola

Together we 5 also explored more of the coastline near our own beautiful beach by boat, and we found another lovely little grotto at which we spent two long leisurely afternoons swimming and snorkling, and feeding bread to fish. At times it felt like we were swimming in an aquarium.

The little grotto up the coastline from our beach

J was in heaven indulging in two of his favorite Italian pastimes, pesto and puffo. Pesto, of course being the dish which traces its' birth to Levanto's region of Liguria. Puffo, on the other hand, is the most vile blue flavour of gelato, sigh a waste, when he could have been having strachiettella or bacia flavours. His cousin Jordan would have been proud.

Me and Nat

Marc and Nat got our passion, they understood it, they shared it, and they were as enraptured. So reluctant were we to bid goodbye to each other at the end of our trip that we all trouped back to our house in Geneva late Saturday and C2 whipped up a seafood risotto that would have made the restaurants in Levanto proud.

Related Posts:

Leaving Levanto

La Dolce Vita

Summer Means Pesto and Lots of It

Drying the basil

We're preparing to leave this Saturday for a week of fun and sun in our favorite Italian beach town of Levanto. Levanto is in the region of Liguria, perhaps most well-know for it's port town of Genoa and the spectacular heritage site of Cinque Terre, but for us, it's all about being in the birthplace of pesto!

The Hendricks family are serious pesto afficianados. No jarred pesto for us! I first discovered its' pungent deliciousness in my early 20's at a small italian restaurant across the street from my apartment on rue St. Mathieu in Montreal. After C2 and I hooked up, we made regular summer pilgrammages to the largely Italian Jean Talon market to buy armfuls of fragrant basil. We would spend the rest of the day lovingly picking and rinsing the delicate green leaves before making enough quantity to freeze and enjoy all winter long.

We carried the tradition through our years of living in Calgary routing out basil wherever we could find it, and passed our love of it onto our son J. Fortunately, Geneva's markets are full of basil beginning in early July, and this past Sunday, I picked up several bunches at the Ville-la-Grande market. We spent part of a hot afternoon that day making and freezing a couple of months worth. For the record, years ago, we used to be more purist and made our pesto using a mortar and pestle, but now use a food processor which cuts production time dramatically.

Here is our recipe for pesto:

Ingredients:

Several bunches of fresh basil, picked from the stems, rinsed and dried

Several handfuls of pine nuts toasted in a dry pan

6-7 cloves of garlic

3-4 large pinches of coarse sea salt

good olive oil

Add all ingredients except olive oil into a food processor. You may have to do several batches depending upon quantity. Work in small batches if using a mortar and pestle.

Add a little olive oil and pulse food processor a couple of times. Press the on button and add more olive oil from the top feeder until mixture resembles a wet paste. Stop as necessary and push basil stuck to sides of food processor back into mix. Add more salt to taste.

Freeze pesto in ice cube trays for about 8 hours then remove cubes and freeze them in a freezer bag. One or two cubes will do for a dinner for 4-5 people.

Personal Tips:

1. Pesto is best served on a pasta with ridges which better hold the sauce such as penne rigate or farfalle (bows). Add a little of the hot pasta water to the pesto in a large bowl to thin the pesto a bit and mix the cooked pasta directly in same bowl.

2. We do not add parmesan cheese to the original mixture as many recipes call for but rather in copious fresh amounts when serving.

3. Serve with grilled chicken on top.

The Boys of Summer

Here are a few photos depicting some of our early summer experiences so far...

Well, if you're going to give me a hose...

Why bounce on it when you can read on it?

There has got to be a way to make money out of all those cherries we keep picking!

OK, well if I can't sell them, I might as well share them with my best pal.

Sunflowers, June 20

We are literally surrounded by sunflower fields this summer, they are on every corner in our village.

Same sunflower field about 10 days later.

Sunflower heaven!

Promotion 2009

Another year living in beautiful Geneva, and another Promotion. Promotion is an event that the Swiss do so very very right. At the end of June, each village dresses itself up in flags and prepares for an evening celebrating the promotion of each of its' students from one grade to the next.

The Mairie, which in essence is an executive of village elders, had bestowed a gift on each of the kids during the last week of school; a very generous 30 CHF coupon to a bookstore. Then at 4:30 on a hot afternoon last Saturday, all of the school children lined up behind their respective teachers and marched behind two bands, the aforementioned village elders, a group of ladies in traditional dress, and the local volunteer pompiers/sapeurs (firemen). They proudly walked the length of the main street through our village to the claps and cheers of the local population.

Following the parade, we all gathered on a village green crowded with bouncy castles, mini-roller coasters, barbapapa (cotton candy), popcorn, candy, and drink stands, tents lined with tables, benches, a dance floor, and a live band. The pompiers/sapeurs supplied barbequed saucisses, frites, salad, wine, beer, and ice cream.

It was an incredibly convivial and communal atmosphere. The kids scattered to play on the rides and games, and the adults mingled, chatted, and caught up on each other's summer plans. This year, we even had a well-attended anglophone table populated by Canadians, Americans, South Africans, Romanians, Finns and Norwegians. We are a slice of the international flavour of Geneva.

Promotion has been one of my favorite Swiss experiences, particularly in our small village. It has been a wonderful way for J to bid adieu to another year of school, to dwell on the friendships, and important moments achieved during the year, to be reminded of the importance of school in his life, and to build excitement for the next chapter.

Related Posts: Hurrah, J is Promoted from 1ere Enfantine

Transylvania, Kentucky, a Barbeque and a Bottle of Pálinka

What do you suppose the odds are in a tiny Swiss village outside of Geneva, of finding and celebrating a Transylvanian-Kentucky connection? Ha! Well not only did we find it but we turned it into a new tradition - the Transylanian-Kentucky Summer Barbeque.

Ok, to connect the dots...the first dot are my wonderful neighbours Gilles and Ioli who clearly never received the Swiss instruction manual on maintaining a cool reserve toward all foreigners. They are Swiss and Romanian (specifically Transylvanian) and speak French, Romanian and very decent English.

The second dot are a recently-arrived-to-our-village-from Louisville, Kentucky family who moved into the old farmhouse formerly co-occupied by J's favorite clutch of chickens. David is the native-Kentuckian, Lavinia is Romanian (specifically Transylvanian) though she spent many years in Kentucky too. They speak English and Romanian - no French. and have her Romanian-only speaking Grandmother living with them. With me so far?

The last dot are our friends from around the corner Bijoy and Jawahara who are American not-too-recently arrived from California but who were both educated at the University of Kentucky and still have family living in Lexington. They speak only English (plus several other Indian languages). Bijoy has a hankering to go to Transylvania to dig into the history of Vlad the Impaler AKA Dracula. Bijoy's interest was the trigger for our party.

So, last Saturday night, we invited the 3 families including kids, the Romanian-only speaking Grandmother, and Lavinia's Romanian free-spirited father visiting from California over for a barbeque to make merry in 4 languages. We sat outside in the garden sheltered as much as possible from La Bise which was making an unwelcome early summer appearance. We ate classic American/Canadian barbeque including a cherry cobbler made from cherries from our tree and the wine and conversation flowed freely. All that was missing was a Gypsy folk band or a bluegrass banjo.

Gilles introduced a bottle of Pálinka late into the evening. In short, Pálinka is a double-distilled plum brandy and considered the national drink of Transylvania. It is vile, throat-burning, gag-inducing, tongue-loosening, laughter-causing plonk. C2 had 4 of them.

The only downside to the evening? All Romanian eyes rolled when any attempt to discuss Vlad was made. Apparently Romanians view discussing this part of their popular history as distasteful and tiresome. Who knew?

Heaven is My Corner Cherry Tree

Our cherries have been utterly magnificent this year. Sweet, juicy, plump and not a cherry worm in sight (unlike previous years).

The tree also doubles as a perfect shady picnic spot on a hot day. J, Murphy and I have passed many an hour under its' leafy umbrella.

J and I polished off this entire bowl after school today. Next on the menu: cherry crisp, cherry ice cream, cherry pie...

And Now He is 6

I'm sitting in front of my computer with a glass of wine, watching the sun set over Mont Blanc with the satisfied feeling that today I was a good parent (those positive parenting moments occur so infrequently). J turned 6 today and we celebrated with a party attended by a dozen of his classmates in our back garden.

Thankfully and unlike last year, the weather was perfect - sunny, hot and around 26c. C2, was unable to take the time off to assist as he had some long-standing important meeting scheduled today (a likely story - coward!), fortunately, my mum more than took up the slack.

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This year's theme was Disney in keeping with our visit to Disneyland Paris a month or so ago. C2 rendered a perfect life-size Mickey Mouse face in support of our 'Colle-le-nez-sur-Mickey' game, a variation of the Canadian classic 'Pin-the-tail-on-the-Donkey'. Sounds simple enough, but explaining the game in detail entirely in french is not so simply done. However, they got the general idea and the game was a hit.

Popping the kids champagne - always popular

The game 'Statues' went over well too (thank you Hannah Montana and your 'Hoedown Throwdown'), as did wacking the heck out of the packed-to-the-brim 'Pirates of the Caribbean' pinata. Still, the bulk of the time was joyfully spent by this group of six-year olds on the trampoline, the swings, and at the sandbox; nice that the classics still have appeal.

I don't know how my darling boy got to be 6 but he is beautiful, thriving, confident, well-adjusted, assertive, and healthy, and I am one grateful and happy mother.

Not much Happening

I haven't posted lately as there hasn't been much happening of particular note. So here is a brief stream of consciousness with some goings-on.

There have been 5-year old behavioural shenanigans that I am attempting to deal with somedays more effectively than others. J is going through an argumentative stage where he debates every decision to death and adopts a defiant position seemingly for the rise it gets out of us. I'd like to think that our family thrives on the democractic principle of meritocracy but lately we've been teetering between banana republic and autocratic rule. I'm working on it and Mighty Mom's new blog 'Creative Parenting' is helping.

Otherwise, the weather in Geneva has been sensational. Last weekend, the temperatures never dipped below 30c though this week has been a far more tolerable 25c with brilliant sun. During my run today, I actually had to pause and drink in the spectacular views of fast-growing sunflower fields and sky-stretching cyprus trees in my foreground framed by crystal-clear Alps in the background. Roses are in perfumed full-bloom and it's not even the end of May yet.

We spent the afternoon and evening yesterday with my friends Lisa and Arthur and their kiddos whom I haven't seen in ages. It was really really good to catch up with them. And, you can't go wrong sitting around a table outside drinking champagne and eating barbeque. It was a good day.

My mum's 3-month visit with us is fast coming to a close - bummer! She returns to Canada a week from tomorrow. It's hard to believe how fast her visit with us went. On the up side, I just booked tickets for a quick 2-week trip to Calgary and Victoria for J and I. It will be good to visit Canada in the summer after the miserable weather we had last Christmas. J and I have a date to decorate my dad's memorial tree with Christmas decorations as it was too bloody cold to venture into Fish Creek Park last December.

Four weeks of school left, then school promotion and summer is officially upon us. Woo hoo! We're heading to our usual piece of heaven in Italy in July. This time we're bringing Marc and Nat with us. Shortly after, we plan to join Sheila and her gang for her birthday at their house in the south of France. A week after that J and I head to Canada.

So that's all that's new for the moment. Oh that and I finally ordered a Mac powerbook. I'm hoping that having a computer that isn't two long floors above the main part of the house will help me in my quest to find more time to devote to writing. Watch this space.

2:01.20

Well, it's done and I'm happy...happy it's over that is, to quote Cindy. Seriously, the half-marathon was a great experience and overall lots of fun. The morning dawned slightly overcast and cool with no wind - perfect! Cindy, Leigh-Anne and I took the tram to the start on the Quai Wilson as much of the downtown core was closed to traffic for the race. We met up with several other acquaintances and chatted to lower our nervous energy.

But at last the start gun fired and we thousands were off. It took a while to get through the start and to navigate the throng of runners and into a stride but eventually I did. The course wound down the Quai Wilson, across the Mont Blanc bridge, through downtown and then headed south into the Vernets area crossing the Arve river a couple of times. Eventually we wound our way back up the river toward the jet d'eau and followed the Quai Gustav Ador as far as the village of Cologny to the turn-around point which by then I was desperately seeking. The turn-around marked approximately 5K back to the finish.

I followed my plan pretty well and really only began hurting around the 16K mark. The 2-hour pace-setters were always in my line of sight but I didn't have anything left to give as I neared the finish. Those last 3K were the hardest I have ever run but run them I did and crossed the finished line exhausted but ecstatic.

So, I'm happy that I ran the race, proud of the accomplishment, pleased I achieved my goal time and now that it's over, bugged at myself for not breaking the 2-hour mark. Errgh, guess I know my next goal!

Leigh-Anne, Cindy and me post-race, post-shower, tired but toasting our accomplishment

YES I CAN (I think)

Two days to go and here's my plan for the Geneva half-marathon this Sunday.

Find the 2-hour pace setter, take the first 5K to find a comfortable rhythm and stride, hold that pace for the next 10K. For the last 6.975K, hang on for dear life, keeping the 2-hour pace setter in my line of sight.

My nagging hamstring and achilles strains are no worse, in spite of a day walking around Evian-les-Bains today in pretty but not practical shoes. The weather forecast looks ok, sun/cloud with a temperature around 21c.

Much of the race takes place around both sides of Lac Leman (Lake Geneva) and lucky for us, the Julius Baer Challenge regatta also takes place this weekend which includes the Swiss team Alinghi, training in their defence of the America's Cup next year. Cool - stuff to watch while lamenting my burning lungs and screaming knees.

My iPod is updated with a longer playlist and I've started carbo-loading. I've also put a bottle of champagne in the fridge to toast the occasion with my fellow competitors and friends, Cindy and Leigh-Anne whom I've invited over with their families for a post-race apero on Sunday afternoon. Okay, I think I'm ready...

Guilty Pleasures - Tag You're It

One of my favorite bloggers happens to also be a really good friend, a literary phenom, and an intellectual giant. So it was really satisfying to discover that even Jawahara indulges in the odd guilty pleasure.

Jawahara tagged me in her latest blog, to 'fess up to one of my recent guilty pleasures. Ok, here it is. My friend and young-adult novelist, Katie, lent me the book Twilight a couple of months ago. For those of you living under a rock, the Twilight series written by Stephanie Meyer is a New York Times bestseller and the first novel was one of the best-sellers of 2008. It sat on my shelf for quite a while, though, while I focused on books for my book club.

Last weekend, I found myself between books and picked up Twilight on a lark. Suffice it to say that for the next 48 hours I largely ignored my family, the news, feeding my animals and pretty much anything else that begged my attention as I found myself completely absorbed in the romance between the vampire Edward and new girl Bella. I finished it Monday morning and headed straight to the DVD store to rent the film which I watched in solitary delight that night (C2 being in South Africa and my visiting mum being in the U.K.).

In the final analysis, the movie was disappointing, seriously wooden acting, though Edward was divine. Is that a little on the 'ewww' side, given his age? Ah, tant pis, hence the guilty pleasure. Tag you're it!

Running on Empty?

Aaack, a quick glance at the Geneva Marathon countdown in my sidebar reveals that there are only 11 days left. For the record, I plan on running the half-marathon part of the event (21K) not the full (42K).

A few weeks ago, I was fully on schedule following a training plan intended to build my endurance, lactic-acid threshold, and speed, peaking just in time for the event. I even e-mailed a friend that all I had to do was stay healthy and injury-free and the run would be a breeze.

Ah such hubris... That was before a blessedly short-lived but still brutal repeat episode of Labyrinthitis hit three weeks ago leaving me with some residual depth-perception problems. In addition, I have nagging hamstring and achilles strains that no amount of ice, heat or ibuprofen seem to be able to fully resolve. Grrrr, when I signed on, my goal was to run the half in 2 hours, that may be a tad ambitious now. Well, stay tuned, the race is on Mother's Day, May 10.

Heaven is Spring Time in Paris

A kiss in front of Rodin's 'The Kiss' in les jardins Tuileries

Can there be any more magical city in the world than Paris? If there is I haven't seen it yet! C2, J, my mum, my Auntie Harriet and I traveled north to the city of lights to rendez-vous with friends from Montreal for the Easter week school break. We had rented an apartment in the 1er arrondissement of Paris, near the Louvre, in order to be near our friends who had rented a flat within the glorious Palais Royale.

Under the Pyramid in the Louvre

I had at one point questioned whether a week would be too long in Paris with a 5-year old but honestly it was barely long enough and I still didn't do all I would have liked. We walked, without exaggeration about 7 hours a day including one full day at Parc Asterix, an amusing theme park based on the French comic strip Astérix le Gaulois, about 30km outside of Paris, as well as one exhausting day at Disney Paris.

Strolling the David gallery in the Louvre

But Paris is not about theme parks, they were a simple diversion for the younger set. I'm not even sure at this point that they were necessary as my favorite memory is J's utter fascination with the gallery of neo-classical historical paintings by David in the Louvre. We must have spent an hour looking at them closely. It was the first time I introduced him to a museum offering more mature subjects than natural history and he rose to the occasion. His tastes, however, did not extend to Monet's Waterlillies which are beautifully displayed in the Orangerie gallery in les jardins Tuileries. Impressionist art didn't make much of an impression on him.

J's other favorite Paris landmark was the ubiquitous Eiffel Tower. He spent hours searching out just the right souvenir models and begging every adult in our group to part with a few coins in support of his purchase of another and another. Final tally of miniature Eiffel Towers was around 10. They are now carefully on display in his bedroom in Geneva.

A couple of the odder things that we fit in were visits to the sewers of Paris, a somewhat funky-smelling but still interesting wade (pardon the pun) under the Quai d'Orsay on the Left Bank. The other was a visit to the Catacombs of Paris, a vast underground ossuary where the bones of overwhelmed city and church cemetaries were moved and stacked into eery piles of femurs, tibias and skulls.

While both were mildly interesting (wildly for the boys), my personal Paris remains solidly above ground in the gardens of the Tuileries, in the architecture of 17th century apartment blocks and palaces converted into museums or other public spaces, in the bridges spanning the Seine - each with it's own history and charm, and in the winding streets of Saint-Germain-des-Prés in the 6th arrondissement.

Nostalgia

Have you even wandered down memory lane back to when you were a teenager with all of the time in the world in front of you? I have never indulged much in the picking over of early memories or the questioning of roads taken or not, but I must admit in the last couple of weeks I have revisited those memories just a little bit.

It started a couple of weekends ago, when C2 and I went out to a funky left-bank restaurant in Geneva called L'Envers du Décor with Marc and Nat. In addition to a fantastic filet de Daurade, the restaurant had a live guitar band that kept devolving into 70's classics, replete with Swiss accent.

After the 4 of us sang an embarrassingly loud accompaniment to 'Hotel California', we started reminiscing over the songs that as teenagers made us ache for high school crushes to take notice and to request one of those tight clutch dances that left little to the imagination. The songs we shortlisted were Styx' "Suite Madame Blue", Chris de Burgh's "A Spaceman came Travelling", The Moody Blues' "Nights in White Satin" and of course Led Zeppelin's "Stairway to Heaven".

Facebook has also caused me to wander back down over the years, as it has been so easy to reconnect with old friends from whom I have long long lost touch but who played such critical roles during such formative times in my life.

Then of course, there is my lovely girl, Sheila. My oldest friend. My rock. We met at 14, when we had side-by-side lockers in Grade 9 at Riverdale High School in Pierrefond, Quebec. As I have blogged on several previous occasions, our friendship has weathered time and distance beautifully. She and her 2 kids just spent 5 days with us in Geneva, returning to London this morning. They were 5 loud, raucous, loud, argumentative, loud, laughter-filled days that in spite of my upside-down house and exhausted kid, I wouldn't have traded for anything. Santé, my dear pal, here is to 30 more!

me and Sheila wine-tasting at the Château du Crest

Winded

Whew, I just returned from an early morning run and faced the full force of running into La Bise. La Bise is a Geneva phenomenon. A violent northern wind that sweeps down from the Alps across Lake Geneva ( lac Léman) and storms over the city.

Living eight years in Calgary acquainted me with winds. In fact, I'm not sure I could have borne the long, dark winters without a frequent friendly visit from the Chinook wind which in a few hours could turn a winter day into a near summer day with its' warm coastal breath.

La Bise, on the other hand, distorts a lovely Spring day, into the chill of winter again and has been known to create interesting ice sculptures of benches, trees, and light poles along the shores of the Lake.

Turning into the wind this morning, my iPod earbuds were blown out of my ears, and wind-stung tears streamed down my cheeks. While climbing a hill, I might as well have been running on a treadmill. However, once I turned south and with the wind at my back, my tempo run was more than back on course and I returned home at an almost full sprint, ah silver linings.

Missing the Mightys

It's down to 13 days now before the Mightys leave Geneva for their new posting in the U.S. (not that we're counting). We hosted a small dinner party for them last night with the usual Canadian contingent that was full of our typical laughs and conversation but tinged a little nostalgic at the same time. The kids all had a ball and were outside playing until 11:00pm taking full advantage of the first real Spring-like day and evening in Geneva.

The six of us (plus kids) have done a lot of playing together in the last 3 years. It began when we took our littlest ones to KinderMusic in Cologny and since then we've snowskiied, waterskiied, shared Mothers' Day, Fathers' Day, Thanksgiving, Christmas, the occasional holiday, lifted many a glass, and shared many meals together. We have been a family of friends united in having real family far away.

There is something else, though, that has glued we Canadian expatriates together while living in this lovely but foreign land; a sense of familiarity and common ground. We six seem to have lived similar experiences. Who else but other Montrealers could nod knowingly when referencing The Peel Pub, Café Santropol , McGill's Curry Gym, Durocher street, and Crescent Street.

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Now, we have built new common reference points from our collective experience in Geneva- the Mont Blanc bridge, the Mont Blanc tunnel, la Bise wind, the Aiguille du Midi in Chamonix, skiing the Alps, crêpes in Yvoire, church bells, the smells of lavender and rosemary, carousels, and Sunday markets. Take them with you, Mightys, and don't forget us. We'll miss you at the table!

Writers and Raclette

Someone once said "There are two kinds of writer: those that make you think, and those that make you wonder". Both sorts gathered last Friday night to bid farewell to one of our best as she prepares to fly across the pond in 2 short weeks.

Our small writers group, splintered from the larger Geneva Writers Group gathers twice a month to lend support to one another, to workshop our efforts, and to learn to be better writers by learning from each other in a collegial, respectful and safe environment. I was one of the last to join our group and aspire to be half as good as them.

It was a an awfully fun evening, replete with a classic Swiss meal of an apero, followed by Raclette, white wine, and much laughter before finally getting down to the business of workshopping chapters from 3 novels in the making.

We band of women united in our love of the written word and storytelling, are also reflective of the international character of Geneva. Together, we represent America, Bosnia, Canada, England, India, and Scotland. We articulate ideas, customs, and cultural ethnology from our native lands and in the process educate and enlighten one another - amazing! Remind me again, Sher, what's a biro?

Nothing Says Valentine's Day like Chocolate-covered Tomatos

I was luxuriating in a few extra minutes of sleep this morning, it being Wednesday and, therefore, no school in Swiss-Romande when I heard out of one ear, J scamper downstairs. Angus was purring on my chest, and Murphy snoring at my side, when I roused, shooed them off of the bed and made my way to the kitchen in search of my first coffee of the day.

What greeted me in the kitchen was the sight of J fully engrossed in making a treat for a friend due later that day. He was dipping the last cherry tomato into a stainless steel bowl of melted white chocolate (it was good of him to remember his chum only liked white chocolate) and then carefully placed it on a tray equally carefully lined with parchment paper to harden.

My mouth fell open...

Me: "Uh uh, what are you doing"

J: "We didn't have any strawberries like we made on the weekend so I made tomatos. It's a Valentine's Day treat for Spencer"

Me: "Uh uh, how did you melt the chocolate"

J: "On the stove over hot water, I turned the stove back off but I can't get the little red light to go off"

Me: "Uh uh"

J: "And look I started scrambled eggs too and cut up an apple, but I'm being careful with this pokey knife"


Did I mention he's 5? Mighty Mom, what does it say in your parenting manual about this one?

London Calling

Coincident with the sadness of witnessing the inevitability of an expatriate friend relocating to the USA, has been the joy of being a mere one-hour flight to my oldest and still-dearest friend, Sheila. J and I returned a couple of days ago from one of our regular jaunts to jolly old London.

A one-hour flight or 10-hour drive to London might seem far to some but when you have spent the last almost 20 years half a world away, our proximity has been a blessing for the last three years that we have been in Geneva.

Friendships are a funny thing, some wax, some wane, and some even run out of steam. My intercontinental friendship with Sheila has certainly been tested by time, distance, and seat sales. However, with the exception of a little high school drama, our friendship has buoyed and sustained me for years.

Watching our children develop a bond now has been profound. They play together like old friends, as familiar with the stretches between playdates as their mothers. They are beginning to share memories and common inside jokes.

It may be inevitable that we will have to answer the call to venture elsewhere leaving this grand place, and the wanderlust in me doesn't hate the idea, but having gotten used to reconnecting with Sheila every couple of months, I do hate the idea of increasing the space between us again. "Tant pis" oh well as they say in Swiss-Romande, at least now we have e-mail, SMS and Facebook, and until the inevitable, we still have EasyJet.

Take me to the nearest pub or perish!

Related Posts: A Little More on the Subject of Friendship and La Vie est Belle