Confess

For those Schadenfreude moments

About that solo holiday…

Attempting to quell the restlessness that quietly agitates my existence – equivalent, one suspects, to the grain of sand that subtly invades an oyster’s cosy abode – took myself off to the quiet end of the Coast to reflect, restore and revitalise. And for those curious to know what a ‘lonely petal sans box full of cats’ holiday might entail, here are my astute observations…laugh, commiserate or set up the charity …

IMG_2009.JPG• Most of the population turns out to walk, amble, pram jog, dog drag, cycle, skateboard and conduct group raa-raa sessions on the ocean front pathway at 6am on Saturdays

• The rest of us dawdle barefoot on the surf’s edge dodging greedy seagulls, gawking at bronzed six pack clad lifesavers and, on occasion, falling face first into mystifyingly deep beach potholes

• It takes a certain degree of panache and dexterity to discreetly remove a pair of knickers discovered half way down the inside leg of one’s Lycra gym shorts in front of said audience

• Magnifying mirrors in brightly lit bathrooms reveal an extraordinary array of facial hair that friends have no doubt been yearning to discreetly pluck for eons

• Dogs look insanely cute trying to bite the surf; their botoxed, gravity defying boobed, spray tanned, bleached blond aging Mommas don’t

• Amex attracts 5% surcharge and ‘it’s all their fault’ ‘cos a mere 800% mark-up can’t possibly absorb such fees

• iTunes free U2 album, on constant rotation, wins over the arduous process of choosing from 17 continuous days worth of iPod music library

• A 2k beach walk totally justifies out loud orgasmic sighs at first sip of a store bought skinny flat white, one Natvia please, hold the lid

IMG_2010.JPG• Hard copy Weekend Australian is actually kinda cool to read in lieu of dodgy wifi, albeit only cos I’m looking for my soon to be published article on Digital Branding (stay tuned)

• Solo Yoga…no…best not go there.

• Foxtel, good for cooking, bios, reno’s…and observing women kicking, biting, scratching, women called to task for poor wardrobe choices, women squealing at infant pageant women, women indulging in drunken bitch-fest vomiting in random British gutters. And what is that about the Honey-boo boo? I mean seriously?

• You can create an extraordinary amount of exotic cocktails with base ingredients of Gin, watermelon and imagination

• Being happy in one’s own company doesn’t actually assuage feeling ‘alone’, utterly alone, possibly for ever and ever…and EVA!

• The lady next door has an entire football team in residence given the volume of washing that flushes onto her balcony daily

• A 180 degree view of the ocean from 14th floor provides a spectacular view of nature at her most fearsome, rainbows that end right at the doorstep and ‘front row’ migrating whale viewing awesomeness

The biggest takeaway? My life isn’t necessarily as complicated and messy as it feels. Sometimes, life is simply about happiness and the small ways we choose to engage in the absolute beauty of being alive. You could say the ‘pearl’ that, on occasion, results from the oyster’s persistence in accommodating that goddamned irritating grain of sand.

 

 

About beaches, mojitos and mojo

‘In my dreams the angel shrugged and said, if we fail this time, it will be a failure of imagination and then she placed the world gently in the palm of my hand.’
Brian Andreas

Fighting to regain my writing mojo, my writerly friends from far away places said ‘take yourself away from the everyday!’…Sure said I…Tuscany here we come! ‘Fraid not! Retorted budget. Instead I settle for the good old iconoclastic Goldie. Home to the tourist hordes, theme parks, schoolie’s, a dodgy nightlife reputation, souvenir shops, meter maids sporting gold bikinis (yes they still exist), a Casino full of slow shows, fast food and bleary eyed Asian punters…and…absolute beachfront accommodation of such excellent value, not even Noosa my normal runaway bolt could match.

Endless toe-squidgingly squeaky white sand stretching to a misty Surfers Paradise haze one end, Tweed border the other; pounding waves spitting out bronzed, six packed surfers; fishing lines, buckets full of restless catch; tiny tots attached to colorful kites; hand locked lovers, determined joggers, Lycra clad cyclists, skateboarding dogs…and all vying forone common denominator – this tiny piece of 57kilometers worth of brilliantly clear aquamarine blue, sun dappled ocean that is the iconic Gold Coast’s cachet.IMG_8344-0.JPG

Y’know, I’ve strolled the beaches of Barbados, St Baarts, Martinique, Antigua and St Lucia in (more…)

On Italians, Tiramisu…and Grappa

This time last year…

Hi, there lovely readers. Let me put you in the scene… I’m standing on the edge of a cliff, freshly plucked sweet crimson cherries in hand, gazing at sun sparkles shimmering across a breathtakingly azure ocean and clear blue sky, and squinting to identify where the two actually meet. Grappa impaired vision.

The small terra cotta and mustard hued fishing village surrounded by heavy grape vines and silvery olive trees below looks to relinquish its tenuous grip on the valley and tumble into that ocean. A number of villas actually did in the Autumn of 2011 when flash flooding tore through the township consuming everything in its path to the sea. You’d never know it today though. Stoic folk these Ligurians…good thing that Grappa.

Behind me, nestling beneath a burgeoning Cherry tree, sits il Ciliegio (‘il Ciliegio’ translates to ‘the cherry tree’), a quaint little restaurant lovingly tended by a welcoming family who’ve just taught me how to cook five delectable Ligurian dishes. Each course consumed with great gusto and washed down with Prosecco, Frascati, Chianti, Sciacchetra (a delicate sweet wine from the region) and finished with a rich espresso….and Grappa.

As the last sediment of city deadline driven tension dissolves I smile and whisper to myself…’girlfriend you’ve made it!’ The Italian Riviera. The Cinque Terre. Monterosso al Mare…your new home! My gracious hosts are chortling for I’m also squealing ‘bello! magnifico! splendido!’ Damn Grappa mouth. Here’s one of those recipes…Grappa optional!

Tiramisu (the Ligurian way)

Need:

500g mascarpone cheese
4 eggs
Zest – thick strips of the surface of one lemon
4 tablespoons sugar
Coffee
Savoyard (lady finger) biscuits
Cocoa or shaved dark chocolate for dusting

Do:

• Separate eggs
• Beat the 4 yolks with the sugar and strips of lemon zest until light and fluffy (the zest removes the ‘eggy’ taste, remove it and discard after beating)
• Add mascarpone and incorporate well
• Beat egg whites until soft peaks form
• Fold egg whites into the mix, stir gently
• Prepare strong black coffee
• Reserve six of the Savoyard biscuits
• Break two Savoyard fingers each into the bottom of six individual glasses
• Soak the biscuit in each glass with two tablespoons of coffee
• Top with the mascarpone cream
• Liberally dust with cocoa or shards of dark chocolate
• Insert the remaining Savoyard finger
• Serve with espresso and dessert liqueur of choice.

Grappa – an alcoholic beverage, fragrant, grape-based pomace brandy of Italian origin that contains 35%–60% alcohol by volume. (Wikipedia) Damn Grappa!

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