tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-63799956803184300412024-02-07T06:34:16.683+00:00Wanderlust & LifeTRAVEL. FOOD. ART. BOOKS. LIFEWanderlusthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12588551835154184507noreply@blogger.comBlogger340125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6379995680318430041.post-215468348216004942015-07-30T17:25:00.000+01:002016-09-23T16:56:00.943+01:00WE HAVE MOVED.Hi,<br />
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We have a new home and you can link to it here:<br />
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<a href="https://africanwanderlust.wordpress.com/"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>https://africanwanderlust.wordpress.com</b></span></a><br />
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or on <a href="http://www.wanderlustnlife.com/"><b><span style="font-size: large;">www.wanderlustnlife.com</span></b></a><br />
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Thank you for reading!Wanderlusthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12588551835154184507noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6379995680318430041.post-46654631229434800042015-07-03T14:40:00.000+01:002015-07-11T09:29:36.933+01:00The Art of the Brick<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Nathan Sawaya's <a href="http://www.theartofthebrick.fr/en/">The Art of the Brick</a> exhibition is currently on at Porte de Versailles. It is incredible to see the talent that this lawyer-turned-artist has when it comes to creating these amazing sculptures - using nothing but Lego pieces. From Rodin's Thinker to Da Vinci's Mona Lisa carefully crafted to astounding similarity to the real sculptures. My children loved it, especially my nine-year old. I would highly recommend it as one of the things to do with the kids. Word of warning: with the sweltering temperatures we have been having, the Porte de Versailles - being an exhibition hall is not very well cooled. Go with your bottles of water - they will come in handy.<br />
The exhibition runs until 30 August, 2015.<br />
<a href="http://www.theartofthebrick.fr/en/">The Art of the Brick</a><br />
1 Place de la Porte de Versailles<br />
Pavillon 8/A<br />
75015 Paris.<br />
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<br />Wanderlusthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12588551835154184507noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6379995680318430041.post-88284805581602955272015-07-02T13:18:00.000+01:002015-07-11T09:31:58.343+01:00Taking stock and readying myself for 'les vacances'Funny how when everyone is winding down and readying themselves for their two months of vacation, I feel at my most inspired. I want to spend at least four hours - plan big! - writing everyday; to finish reading a book every two weeks; to go to an art exhibition every week; to try a new restaurant once a week; to write an opinion piece once a week; in between finding ways to keep my children entertained - whilst still letting them use their own imagination - and whilst all the while pondering the insanity of the northern hemisphere's two month long summer vacation.<br />
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I am setting no lofty goals of what I want to have achieved by 2016, or 2017, or...you get the picture. This time it is more measured steady steps on how I want to pace my writing; my undertaking to get fit again; a promise to myself to read more (of everything); but an even smaller though more significant goal: to be kinder to myself. It is often very easy to look at my life, evaluate, and for some reason since becoming a trailing/traveling/stay-at-home spouse and mom, come up short in my achievements. It does not help that in the mere definition of my role - no matter its importance to the people in my life - I have not 'leant in'. Sorry for having let the side down there Sheryl.<br />
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So I am leaning in in other ways: being present in my children's presence. iPhone, iPad, TV - I am going to have to share my time with you for a while; I think we should see other people; it's not you, it's me. I am holding myself even more accountable when it comes to my writing and to delivering on the goals I set myself. I am taking stock and planning and not overwhelming myself with the endless non-ticked off items on <i>that</i> list created more than twenty years ago on the things I should have achieved by this point in my life. I will get to it.<br />
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Wishing you all a restful vacation, and hoping to keep posting as and when that inspiration hits - which I am hoping will be more than it has been.<br />
<br />Wanderlusthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12588551835154184507noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6379995680318430041.post-85436797738198063722015-07-01T12:51:00.000+01:002015-07-11T09:19:55.612+01:00When a default is not quite a default<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I have been watching the news and the reporting on Greece's situation - at the moment the highlight is on it now officially being in arrears with its debt payments to it creditors. It is amusing to see the euphemism being applied to what is effectively a 'failure to pay' its debts being referred to as 'in arrears'. Of course it is a very neat euphemism for 'in default' for the very first developed country to default on its debt payments. So now we wait for Sunday's referendum when the Greek's will decide whether they proceed with more austerity and more money from the troika, or take a path less traveled in voting against the lenders' austerity measures to easing the Eurozone's financial woes.Wanderlusthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12588551835154184507noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6379995680318430041.post-64179178920698461682015-06-25T11:52:00.000+01:002015-07-11T09:22:15.007+01:00The Taste of Paris retrospectively<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Building up to last month's Taste of Paris event, the organisers of which had gone to great lengths in advertising on billboards, television and other social media platforms, I pre-booked tickets online and tried not to get too caught up in the hype. Day one of the event was fairly lacklustre in attendance, and I dare say, in the offerings. There was an enormous champagne bar, courtesy of Laurent Perrier - and only one other drinks stand - which was really more like a corner café when compared to the LP stand. The only other places where you could have wine was the wine tasting stands, or the whisky stand if that was your thing. That alone should have been an indicator that the event had been pitched at a more wealthy audience, and touting more haute cuisine than simple good food.<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-N9MS1J8aSfY/VZlFyuxoSBI/AAAAAAABEsI/DMZQ5WanhTE/s1600/DSC02364.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-N9MS1J8aSfY/VZlFyuxoSBI/AAAAAAABEsI/DMZQ5WanhTE/s320/DSC02364.jpg" width="320" /></a>Although I had been well aware of the line-up of chefs and 'culinary artists' who would be in attendance at the event - I had also hoped that the organisers would have drawn less celebrity chefs and more good cooks. Alongside the stalwarts of French culinary success like Alain Ducasse, Joel Robuchon and Guy Savoy were the younger generation that included Kei Kobayashi of <i><a href="http://www.restaurant-kei.fr/">Restaurant Kei</a>; </i>David Rathgeber of <i><a href="http://www.restaurant-lassiette.com/">L'Assiette</a></i> - whom I am seeing more and more of on television as the next up-and-coming in the vein of Ducasse, Robuchon and Savoy - and Pierre Sang Boyer who runs <i><a href="http://www.pierresangboyer.com/EN/">Pierre Sang</a></i> in Oberkampf. The line-up also included Jean-Louis Nomicos of <i><a href="http://www.lestablettesjeanlouisnomicos.com/?lang=en">Les Tablettes</a></i>; Francis Fauvel from <i><a href="http://www.auxlyonnais.com/">Aux Lyonnais</a> - </i>a Ducasse restaurant;<i> </i> Stephanie Le Quellec from <i><a href="http://www.la-scene-restaurant.com/en/">La Scène</a>; </i>Fréderic Simonin of <i><a href="http://www.fredericsimonin.com/">Fréderic Simonin</a></i> and <i><a href="http://www.caffestern.fr/">Caffé Stern</a></i>'s Massimiliano Alajmo.<br />
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It was a wonderful experience to be under one roof with some of the most famous french chefs, sampling their food under the Grand Palais's enormous nave, but, there is always the but,... but it would have been even better to have seen a mix of the <i>haute</i> with just a bit of the <i>quotidien. </i>I would have loved to have seen some of the popular food trucks such as <a href="http://lecamionquifume.com/">Le Camion Qui Fume</a> alongside a stand by Grégory Marchand's laid back <a href="http://www.frenchietogo.com/">Frenchie-to-Go</a>, serving up some really simple, but delightful food. Understandably the sponsors wanted to promote French cuisine, but the reality is that French cuisine is changing as French tastes take on a more international flavour. A real mix with the smaller, lesser known chefs would have drawn more crowds I believe. It was wonderful to have Laurent Perrier sponsoring the event - that brought some glamour to the event with their out sized champagne bar - but much as I love my bubbles, I would really have liked to have drank something else on one of those nights.<br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-FnlkmsoRTfQ/VZlE6KCtZYI/AAAAAAABEoo/AarkjTW7k6w/s1600/DSC02343.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-FnlkmsoRTfQ/VZlE6KCtZYI/AAAAAAABEoo/AarkjTW7k6w/s320/DSC02343.jpg" width="320" /></a>Not to take too much away from this year's Taste of Paris, I could not help but notice a distinctly <br />
overt marketing towards the more well-off - even though the tickets ranged from the medium to high depending on the package - I am still wondering who the target market was. With Porsche showing off its cars and Eithiad displaying its first class cabin; with more celebrity than every-day chef; and unfortunately with more foam than food in some of the dishes sampled - I am not sure if this year's Taste was as resounding a success as it could have been.<br />
I have been sitting on my review for a while, and have been avoiding completing the survey from the organisers for a few weeks now because being in Paris, and expecting nothing but gastronomical delights from the culinary capital of the world, I came away rather disappointed. I attended Johannesburg's Taste of Joburg event more than a decade ago, and <i>that</i> set the bar with respect of what other Tastes should be like - sorry Paris, this was not quite it.<br />
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<br />Wanderlusthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12588551835154184507noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6379995680318430041.post-47325570675780302592015-05-15T10:44:00.000+01:002015-07-11T09:23:14.175+01:00Below ground dining at La Petite Cour, Paris 6th<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I met a friend here for lunch recently and can say that I will definitely return. I made reservations for a table on their expansive terrace - highly advised in the warmer seasons. <a href="http://www.lapetitecour.fr/en/index.html">La Petite Cour</a> is in the 6th Arrondissement, on a sub-terrain level of the city - one of the many hidden gems of the Paris dining scene.<br />
The food was excellent. Starters of scallops served in their shell with a vinaigrette dressing, fresh asparagus with a poached egg, followed by a grilled cabillaud on a bed of greens - all very light and healthy, until we finished off the meal with a cafe gourmand and a caramel and chocolate tart.<br />
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<a href="http://www.lapetitecour.fr/en/index.html">La Petite Cour</a><br />
8 rue Mabillon<br />
75006 Paris<br />
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<br />Wanderlusthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12588551835154184507noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6379995680318430041.post-12022840662141800532015-05-13T10:12:00.001+01:002015-07-11T09:32:33.671+01:00Lunch in the neighbourhood - Le Saint Ferdinand, Paris 17th<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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The pleasure of a short stroll around the neighbourhood and a late afternoon family lunch over the weekend. As much as the advice to anyone who wants a decent meal in the very many Paris restaurants is to make reservations - there are still some places, especially the neighbourhood bistros, which can always accommodate the hungry <i>flâneur - </i>stroller.<i> </i>One such place was Le Saint Ferdinand recently. We walked for a while, came across a fairly secluded but animated square with three restaurants within a 50m radius, made a choice and sat for lunch.<br />
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It was uncomplicated, not haute cuisine, but good quality food - the kind that even I could have rustled up at home. An entrecôte, veal in a mushroom sauce and duck with potatoes in a balsamic sauce. Dessert was profiteroles with ice-cream, crème brûlée and a cafe gourmand. Being the season in which we're now uncorking the rosé, we did just that. A simple lunch in the 17th arrondissement.<br />
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Le Saint Ferdinand<br />
34 Place Saint Ferdinand<br />
75017 Paris<br />
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<br />Wanderlusthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12588551835154184507noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6379995680318430041.post-84680135127563547872015-05-11T14:00:00.000+01:002015-07-11T09:33:02.612+01:00Musée Picasso, Paris<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I had friends from South Africa visiting Paris two weeks ago, and it was during our moments visiting the tourist spots and walking around Paris, that I felt that thrill I once did before I moved here. The old adage that living in a place is a far different reality from visiting it still holds true. I have become somewhat jaded in my perception of Paris, but since last week I have a renewed appreciation for all things Parisian. Wanting to not lose even a moment of that renewed curiosity about the city, I planned a Sunday outing with my children - something we used to do often before our blasé attitude towards Paris and its many monuments became the norm. <a href="http://www.museepicassoparis.fr/">The Musée National Picasso</a> was our art and culture excursion yesterday.<br />
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I booked the tickets online for a 9:30am visit, which completely ruled out any Sunday morning lie in. My children grumbled all the way, but once there I saw them getting enthusiastic when faced with the absence of crowds, and a well lit and airy museum. I always limit museum visits with my nine year old son to an hour at the most - but we found ourselves wandering about well into almost two hours, exploring the differently-themed rooms; taking brief pauses on the numerous benches provided for seating, whilst we listened to, and read up on the artworks on our audio/video guides. The visit coincided with my son's recent art class assignment on their favourite artists, and for whatever reason - definitely not my influence - he had chosen Picasso. Seeing the many and varied works of the artist concretised the reality of the artist more than his explorations on an iPad had done. I too left with renewed admiration for this artist, whom I had always just categorised as a Cubist artist. When we finally finished our visit, the queues outside were longer - partially filling up the enormous courtyard.<br />
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There are four floors to this museum and it is filled with Picasso's paintings and sculptures themed along the varying periods and influences to his work. The huge proportions of the room and lighting added to the overall experience because at no point did we have that claustrophobic feeling that is often synonymous with museum visits. The early visit probably played a huge part in this. Go early if with young children, and definitely reserve the audio guides - they are well worth the extra cost.<br />
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<a href="http://www.museepicassoparis.fr/">Musée National Picasso - Paris</a><br />
5 rue de Thorigny<br />
75003 Paris<br />
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<br />Wanderlusthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12588551835154184507noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6379995680318430041.post-69651380992200234302015-05-08T15:01:00.000+01:002015-07-11T09:33:18.300+01:00Touring Chinatown, Belleville<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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A guided walking tour of Belleville a couple of weeks ago revealed a world I would otherwise not have stumbled upon. Belleville straddles the 13th and 20th arrondissements. I have only been as far as the <a href="http://www.africanwanderlust.com/2012/06/visiting-with-dead-at-pere-lachaise.html#uds-search-results">Père Lachaise cemetery</a> and the Hotel and Bar <a href="http://www.mamashelter.com/en/paris/?gclid=CJ6pt4ikssUCFQLMtAodL2QAMg">Mama Shelter</a>. This tour revealed an entirely different side to the Belleville I know.<br />
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A walk around is a sensory feast - from the open air markets selling everything from the 'Made in China' plastic ware to heaps of dragon fruit to the supermarkets with their shelves lined with products both exotic and unfamiliar; the working ladies - seemingly incongruous- plying their trade in the middle of the day right next to the <i>école maternelles</i> and children's parks, on the leafy tree-lined boulevards. <br />
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There are old ladies minding their grandchildren, groups of even older men on the public benches in deep discussions, teenagers hanging around graffiti-covered walls and the raised voices of mandarin speakers everywhere. Our guide was a Frenchman who speaks fluent mandarin. He lives in Belleville and at every turn greeted and held brief conversations with the shopkeepers, the grandmothers, the ladies selling the boiled peanuts at the corners. We talked with the owners of Chen Supermarket, who seemed unfazed by the group of people wandering through their shop asking questions, had a taste of the boiled peanuts sold on the street, tried some warm sesame seed nougat made by the bucket-loads in a sweet shop, and saw the ubiquitous red colour everywhere - in the awnings of shops and as part of the decor in restaurants - an auspicious colour to the Chinese meant to herald happiness or good luck.<br />
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Lunch was a small restaurant along Rue de Belleville called Wen Zhou or Chez Alex which was packed with locals, and offered plates heaped with noodles, meat and vegetable dishes as well as their specialty barbecue-stuffed dumplings - all on the very cheap. After which we all parted ways as we retreated back to our less colourful neighbourhoods. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Roasted duck hanging in the shop window.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Boiled peanuts</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sesame seed nougat </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bucketfuls of a donut-like dessert in the sweet shop</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Association of Indochina - inside of which is a small temple with offerings </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The tree-lined streets</td></tr>
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Wanderlusthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12588551835154184507noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6379995680318430041.post-88749072604023033772015-05-07T10:00:00.000+01:002015-07-11T09:28:09.924+01:00Eating at Les Chouettes in the Marais<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Having read several reviews for <a href="http://www.restaurant-les-chouettes-paris.fr/">Les Chouettes</a> - which I thought to be the adjective, meaning fantastic or terrific , but when I saw the logo realised they meant the noun, meaning owl. Either way, it is a relatively new hip and cool addition to the Marais dining scene. I made reservations for a Saturday lunch and we ventured out for a family lunch. One thing I absolutely loved was the set-up of the restaurant. From the outside, it is fairly nondescript - nothing about the exterior warns of the nautical feel within. Once inside it looks like you're on a cruise liner. It has three levels: the ground floor has the main restaurant with its own bar, the first floor has another bar and more seating, on the third floor are quite reading corners and couches. I could definitely see it as a perfect place for a meet-up for drinks with friends.<br />
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The food was creative and tasty. Flavours that are familiar, but cooked and presented <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mushrooms and gnocchi </td></tr>
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differently. Portions that were perfectly-sized, and all this with good service. Reservations are a must as the restaurant is not that big - the seating in the heart of the restaurant is limited but there is more seating in the front end of the restaurant, which does not have the same lively ambiance.<br />
The menu is limited to three starters, three mains and just four desserts. The starter of morel mushrooms and gnocchi was a hit, then there was the melange of smoked haddock with cucumber and beans - messy looking and fairly average-tasting. For mains we ordered the roasted rabbit- which was very tasty, and the grilled prawns with fennel and spinach - also quite good, if a bit light.<br />
The desserts were even better, but the order of the day was definitely the roasted sesame seed mousse, with salted caramel and flax seed ice-cream - a mix of ingredients that was definitely unusual but absolutely delicious together.<br />
I will definitely return to Les Chouettes, but this time to get a bit of what the evening atmosphere offers.<br />
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<a href="http://www.restaurant-les-chouettes-paris.fr/">Les Chouettes</a><br />
32 Rue de Picardie<br />
75003 Paris<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Roasted sesame seed mousse with salted caramel and flax seed ice-cream. </td></tr>
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Wanderlusthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12588551835154184507noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6379995680318430041.post-76158618494488951352015-05-06T13:02:00.000+01:002015-07-11T09:48:54.519+01:00On being a shoplifter"Browsing bookshops then buying online is a 'genteel form of shoplifting'", this according to David Nicholls, in an article in The Guardian from some weeks ago. He was speaking at the London Book Fair and bringing attention to the disappearance of bookstores, on how their numbers are dwindling more and more in neighbourhoods as the convenience and cost-effectiveness of e-reading has taken on. A bit of a harsh statement, I thought, feeling guilty. In my defence, my browsing more often than not, always results in buying - then in the further browsing of the books which I go on to download on my Kindle.<br />
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Even as a big offender when it comes to this form of 'shoplifting', I will choose paper over electronic in a heartbeat. I love bookstores and libraries - always have. I can browse for hours in bookstores, wishing it were possible to be locked up in them with copious amounts of coffee and food, and just me and the books. Nothing thrills me more than the purchase of a new book in paper form - but the reality is that I cannot buy more books in paper form anymore - not as many as I would like to anyway. I no longer have the space in my house and the near-nomadic life I have does not lend itself to moving with boxes filled with books. So I have reluctantly fallen in love with my Kindle and the ease with which I can have my personal library in my hand without ever having to worry about leaving all those books that I buy behind.<br />
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Even with the convenience of e-books, there is a certain pleasure to be found in browsing. It is in seeing a title that immediately pulls; in running your fingers over the cover; and in skimming to a random page to determine whether the writing draws as much as the appearance, well <i>that </i>is something that Amazon and its click-of-a-mouse ease of purchasing cannot offer, but it is what we will eventually be left with. That thought leaves me feeling sad. I really wish there could be a common ground found between publishers and writers; between the behemoth-sized bookstores and the smaller independent booksellers, to allow for book lovers to indulge their passion without the guilt of knowing that they are not only pirating writers' incomes but are also contributing to the demise of bookstores.Wanderlusthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12588551835154184507noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6379995680318430041.post-91917922192319989822015-04-06T10:54:00.000+01:002015-07-14T08:40:01.075+01:00On putting down roots as an expat<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Source:www.snowflakesincalifornia.blogspot.com</td></tr>
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It is Spring and in readying myself for a new season I have been tossing, restoring and organising. The closets, the book shelves, the digital storage. On the physical side, this has been a fairly quick and easy process - we live in an apartment, so the closets and bookshelves were done within days. On the bookshelves it has been about finally letting go of those books I have hung on to for years, but which I am now fairly certain I will never read.<br />
The organisation of the digital storage is what had me thinking about what putting down roots as an expat means. Our memories of the past seven years are all carefully curated in digital form. If we leave tomorrow, our worldly possessions in France can fit into a few boxes.<br />
<a name='more'></a>Our friendships are forged on the longevity of the work assignment that brought us here. Some endure even after you have moved countries, and others not. For my children, the end of the school year often spells a combination of anxiety and worry over whether their friends are staying or leaving, and excitement and wonder as to what the new school year could bring with regards to new friendships.<br />
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With this constant state of flux, putting down roots can be a challenge, but you find your own way. We don't have pets. Well, my children have a hamster - they had two but we woke up one day to find that the other had slipped through the frames of the cage, never to be seen again.<br />
The ladies at the <i>boulangèrie</i> around the corner recognise us immediately and know exactly what we want before we even order. My daughter was short some money a few weeks ago and all she had to do was come back with the money owed the following day - with a <i>"Dites bonjour à ta Maman!" </i>(Say hello to your Mom) tossed nonchalantly at her on her way out. That elicited a 'small victory for the rootless expat' feeling when she told me.<br />
At the market the gentleman we buy our fruit and vegetables from always takes the time to ask about the kids. I would like to believe there is a genuine "I am really glad to see" glint in his eye when he sees us.<br />
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We have no horror stories to tell about ghastly neighbours - sorry to be the outlier here Anglophone expats. We have formed various 'relationships' in our neighbourhood - from the cobbler, to the the dry cleaner, to the tailor - until you know where to find a good cobbler, dry cleaner, or tailor you have not quite put down roots.<br />
We have our regular go-to restaurants in Neuilly and in Paris, where we always get the table we want, where the staff kiss my daughter on the cheek and fist-bump my son. I see my children's paediatrician at the gym once in a while, and he always gives me a thumbs up - his way of confirming that the kids are well I suppose.<br />
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What we don't have are the "I-am-at-your-front-door-buzz-me-in" kind of friends. The ones that drop in unannounced just because they are in the neighbourhood. I have become used to the arm's length variety of friendships of expat living. It takes time to get used to, but you do get used to it. In the same breath, because we are all expats and with no family support systems in France, we also depend on one another to pick up each other's children from school on the odd day; to be the source of information on the best paediatrician, dentist, GP etc, and to be the 'Emergency contact person in France' on those school forms. As friends come and go this is constantly updated, and for a term or two, the 'Emergency contact person' becomes the Executive Assistant of the company that employs your spouse, or maybe if you're lucky that relative that lives in London - not quite France, but close enough.<br />
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Unless you are one of those long-term expats, the ones who actually choose to live in a foreign country indefinitely, putting down roots becomes a fluid, subjectively-understood notion, that can be determined by something as trivial as the number of times you have renewed you local library membership card, or the strength of the relationships you form with the service providers in your neighbourhood. Sometimes just having a definition for what counts as roots can dispel that rootless feeling, and <i>that</i> can be quite comforting to an expat.<br />
<br />Wanderlusthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12588551835154184507noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6379995680318430041.post-26276331945734368902015-04-05T09:40:00.000+01:002015-07-11T09:45:13.578+01:00Traditional Easter lunch at La Societé, St.Germain-des-Prés<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Not quite a traditional Easter Sunday lunch, but it was for us in that coming here has become something of a tradition.<br />
My family is fairly loyal to restaurants that are consistent in their quality of food and service. Four years later, and one of our favourite restaurants still remains La Societé in St. Germain-des-Prés. It is by the brothers Costes and has the exactly same menu, and clientèle as <a href="http://www.avenue-restaurant.com/">L'Avenue</a> on avenue Montaigne. For drinks we are equally faithful to Bar Costes in Hotel Costes on rue St. Honoré.<br />
You'd probably walk past La Societé in winter- when the only indicator that there may be a restaurant hidden away in the random building is the valet parking sign. It's discreetly tucked away in what I think is a law office building. During the week, the crowd is the fairly staid and serious type, and over the weekend it's the hip and fashionable. But is is always laid back and unpretentious.<br />
Decor is dark and austere perhaps - dark wood and leather chairs, but the service is always friendly, the staff young and energetic, and the food does not disappoint. We love it for that. Today, not in any mood to rustle up a traditional Easter lunch we went for lunch, and I realised that in all the years we have been in France, it's one of the restaurants which I really like that I have not yet written about.<br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yWfUPa51EKc/VSJNOR_h3dI/AAAAAAAAkVI/dTisBMkGaR4/s1600/IMG_0037_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yWfUPa51EKc/VSJNOR_h3dI/AAAAAAAAkVI/dTisBMkGaR4/s1600/IMG_0037_2.jpg" width="239" /></a>From their starter menu, there are the vegetable spring rolls, that my children always share; a <i>couer de salmon</i> - which I have seen they have now taken off the menu - but in its place they now have a new-style salmon sashimi starter. A lighter version to the smoked salmon sashimi that was served up with crème fraîche and blinis I suppose. It is always a combination of their crispy mandarin duck with potatoe purée, their chilli sea bass curry - delightful citrusy fish with chilli and coriander, or their lobster pasta. We are consistently boring that way sometimes. The menu is very wide and varied though, and with their Spring menu, there is now an addition of their lobster spring rolls, carrot and ginger juices and even vegetable soup.<br />
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Dessert is always a must, and like the rest of their menu, it too is equally varied. From plain vanilla ice cream, to a <i>tarte</i> <i>fine</i> loaded with apples and the size of a dinner plate! The terrace was open today, but with the below ten degree temperature - it was fairly empty. In summer, the terrace is the best place to be, and reservations are a must.<br />
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<b>La Societé</b><br />
4 Place Saint-Germain des Prés<br />
75006 Paris<br />
01 53 63 60 60<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ravioli de crevettes</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mandarin crispy duck</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">That purée which tastes more of butter and cream than of potatoes</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tarte fine, served with salted caramel</td></tr>
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<br />Wanderlusthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12588551835154184507noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6379995680318430041.post-4392066910961586852015-04-03T12:38:00.000+01:002015-07-11T09:45:48.100+01:00Snapshots of Lisbon, a city steeped in maritime history <div class="MsoNormal">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Monument of Discoveries, Belém</td></tr>
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I have been sitting on this write up for a while now, just trying to workout how I felt about <i>Lisboa </i>before I put it down. My first impression was that the financial crisis has hit Portugal harder than it has some of the smaller European countries - and <i>this</i> is after a visit to Greece. It seemed a bit rundown, or perhaps I came with high expectations. However when I mentioned this to a friend of mine, she also had the same opinion - when she compared it to her native Italy, and her husband's native Spain. Patriotic sentiment aside, I have since learnt that Portugal is often referred to as the 'poor cousin' of the western European countries.<br />
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Overall it was an enjoyable four-day family getaway - The foodie in me especially loved the food. I learnt a great deal about the city's maritime roots as the point of departure for many an explorer, and as a port city during the more robust trading years towards the end of the Middle Ages. I have definitely learnt that not all European cities are created equal. Lisbon left me with an impression of wanting to see more of what the country has to offer though. I would like to return to Portugal one day, but this time to visit its northern city Porto, or to see some of its beaches in the Algarve or make a trip to Sintra, Evora and Aveiro to name a few.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Rua Augusta Arch</td></tr>
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Where to stay: From the middle of the range to the
four and five star hotels, visitors are spoilt for choice. <i> </i>Stay on or close to the Avenida da Liberdade, just because of its proximity to the <i>Baixa </i>(city centre) and to restaurants and sites. But even if you venture beyond this city’s famous luxe avenue, taxis are
available everywhere and they are cheap.</div>
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The city is small, this of course you only realise after you
have been there for more than 24 hours and have done the bus tours. – I also recommend these in any city. The Yellow Bus Tours, The Red
Bus, and other smaller buses are to be found in and around the city.</div>
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Small as it is, the city which is also affectionately known as “the
city of seven hills” is very hilly. Fortunately there are tuk-tuk rides
which can be hired on the cheap to either tour the city in, or to provide that much required
transportation to the higher altitude places. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Views from the Miradouro de Sao Pedro de Alcantara</td></tr>
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<i>Barrio Alto - </i>This bohemian part of the city overlooks much of Lisbon, giving spectacular views to the city, the Castle of São Jorge, and its famous River Tagus. Take the <i>Bica</i> funicular up the hill to Barrio Alto - it runs back and forth all day. The cost may seem exorbitant for a two minute ride - but you can use it for 48hours, and on any other funiculars around the city - of which there were many. Have a drink, lunch or dinner at The Decadante.
I balked at the price of a meal we had there – amazed that it was so cheap for
the quality. Paris has ruined me.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A glimpse of S<span style="text-align: start;">ã</span>o Jorge Castle in the distance</td></tr>
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We had <i>pesticos</i> - the Portuguese alternative to <i>tapas</i> seated at some random bar in the Bairro Alto overlooking the city and with views of the São Jorge Castle - another great viewing point being the <i>Miradouro de São Pedro de Alcantara.</i></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Musicians busking near Commércio Square</td></tr>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JDQ2nEmJl-A/VR02OyHMHAI/AAAAAAAAjBU/BJYuoLK6XCg/s1600/IMG_4054.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JDQ2nEmJl-A/VR02OyHMHAI/AAAAAAAAjBU/BJYuoLK6XCg/s1600/IMG_4054.JPG" width="320" /></a><i>Praça do Comércio</i> (Comércio Square) with its musicians busking,
sidewalk cafés and views of the River Tagus has that laid back air to it, leaving you wanting to linger longer. We did just that a few times. Had lunch at Cabrito Estonada, housed within the <i>Museu da Cerveja</i> (Museum of Beer) which served up typical Portuguese cuisine - <i>recetta tipica de Portugal</i> - a phrase I became very familiar with during our stay, confirming the various articles I have read that there has been a 'return to basics' with regards to the food being served up by most restaurants in Lisbon.<br />
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I tasted the <i>pastel de Bacalhau</i> at Cabrito Estonada - it is a codfish cake with cheese in the centre. We watched it being made behind a glass window afterwards. Over the days that followed I made it a mission to compare which restaurant served up the best local cuisine - as I ate my way through <i>camaroes- </i>sautéed prawns with homemade hot sauce and garlic, and many versions of <i>pica pau - </i>which is sautéed beef intensely flavoured with garlic.<br />
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The <i>Ribeira Das Naus</i> is a promenade close to the Comércio Square, on which you can leisurely walk after lunch, or during sunset. It has lovely views of the Tagus River - which after the 1755 earthquake became the point of departure and arrival for seagoing vessels.</div>
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<i>Belém</i> – the historical part of the
city offered plenty to see: The <i>Torre de Belém</i>
(Tower of Belem) - which was built as a fortified lighthouse to guard the port; the <i>Mosteiro dos Jéronimos</i>
(Jéronimos Monastery), the <i>Padrao dos Descobrimentos</i> (Monument of Discoveries), which was built for the Portuguese World Fair of 1940. We joined the queue for the<i> pastel de Nata</i>- Portugal's famous
custard tart, at Pateis de Belem - a bakery that is more than 175 years, and perhaps Portugal's version of France's Ladurée - serving up a pastry that has now become synonymous with a nation.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Monument of Discoveries</td></tr>
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On the tour bus, and in a few restaurants and bars we popped into, we became acquainted with <i>Fado Music</i>, a style of soulful, melancholic music in which a solo performer is accompanied by two guitarists. "The songs are usually about love, woes and pain, or express sadness and longing for things that were lost or that were never accomplished." I definitely did not have to speak Portuguese to get the meaning in the songs. I have since gone on to listen repeatedly to well-known Fadistas: Amália Rodrigues who was credited with defining the style of the music, and the more contemporary Mariza.</div>
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In the old quarter, we saw the less attractive parts of the city, riding along on the tram that took us up the hilly neighbourhood. I took plenty of pictures of the tiled facades of the buildings. These contrasted greatly with the maritime theme - details of which subtle but could be spotted often -</div>
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in the architecture in the newer parts of the city,which were reconstructed after the devastating earthquake of 1755.<br />
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The Monument of Discoveries is on the bank of the Tagus River in Belém - the historic town.<br />
It pays homage to the Portuguese 'Age of Discovery' or "Age of Exploration' of the 15th and 16th centuries. It is located on the river, where the ships departed to explore and trade with the Orient.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The 25th of April Bridge with the Christ the King statue at the far end</td></tr>
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The 25th of April Bridge which connects Lisbon to the municipality of Almada on the south bank of the Tagus River was so named to commemorate the military coup of the 25th April 1974, which, coupled with a popular civil resistance saw the overthrowing of the Estado Novo regime and the withdrawal of Portugal from its Africa colonies and out of East Timor.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Comércio Square</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Examples of the tiled facades that can be seen across the city</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The City Centre</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">From the Amália Rodrigues Garden, fantastic views of the City.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Garden that honours the<i> fadista</i> Amália Rodrigues</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small; text-align: start;">The </span><i style="text-align: start;">Mosteiro dos Jéronimos</i><span style="font-size: xx-small; text-align: start;"> (Jéronimos Monastery)</span> </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Belém Tower </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The ubiquitous cruise liner, which can be spotted daily along the Tagus River</td></tr>
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Wanderlusthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12588551835154184507noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6379995680318430041.post-90179821516936729282015-03-31T10:00:00.000+01:002015-07-11T10:07:04.480+01:00Books: PELT AND OTHER STORIES by Catherine McNamara<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0YCjYYAqtuUgsH-Lrx6sF_ZGxmzwYp82g5vHQcUG7X8qrgELtO4DUJaEOWngoEMafgjBBWqVQmP7-EI4kWDqYzQYBL7CA5zN_-mrb1WBDfOVLB2l_00L6wtFcU7hCLk1UFVFDNN4GeYs/s1600/FRONT+COVER_2nat+copia.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0YCjYYAqtuUgsH-Lrx6sF_ZGxmzwYp82g5vHQcUG7X8qrgELtO4DUJaEOWngoEMafgjBBWqVQmP7-EI4kWDqYzQYBL7CA5zN_-mrb1WBDfOVLB2l_00L6wtFcU7hCLk1UFVFDNN4GeYs/s1600/FRONT+COVER_2nat+copia.jpg" width="207" /></a></div>
<span id="goog_2074001147"></span><span id="goog_2074001148"></span>Title: Pelt and Other Stories<br />
Author: Catherine McNamara<br />
Published: 2013<br />
Genre: Fiction<br />
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In between my getting stuck into the novels on my TBR list, I have also been dipping into my collection of short stories - that wonderful genre that allows you to escape what may be a too serious, too tedious, or simply too long novel and lose yourself in other worlds in a fraction of the time.<br />
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I have mixed feelings about Catherine McNamara' s collection of stories. There are some I really liked, and a great deal more that I found myself not enjoying one bit towards the end.<br />
McNamara writes of a world I remember with fond memories - West Africa, more specifically Ghana. Her collection of short stories moves easily from Ghana to Australia to Italy and back again to Ghana and so on. The bulk of the collection though is based in West Africa.<br />
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What I really enjoyed about her Ghana stories was how she took me back there with her accurate descriptions of the heat and the humidity; with her unrushed telling of the unequal relationships between the Western expatriates and their local counterparts; with her descriptions of the food, and with her eye for detail in capturing the perspectives of the expats while still allowing for the locals' point of view to get fair treatment in her stories.<br />
I did not however enjoy what seemed to be a pervasive theme in her Ghana stories, which by the time I had read the fourth Ghana-based story, started to seem unimaginative. That theme of the wealthy expatriate, who unwittingly becomes the victim of some swindle by the local - be it in the form of a pregnant local girl, or in the form of the local boy 'dating' the wealthy older Western woman - who will ultimately be their passport to Europe. I almost skipped right through the Ghana stories - which was unfortunate because I had hoped for a lot more besides that almost clichéd theme.<br />
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The first story is <i>Pelt</i>, the story of a Ghanaian girl carrying the child of her married German lover. It is written from the point of view of the the girl, and although she is the 'other woman', the author does a great job giving a perspective which makes the wife the interloper in the couple's lives as she comes to terms with the awkward nature of their warped relationship of husband, wife and lover. <i>The Coptic Bride</i> was one of my favourite. I enjoyed the subtlety of the story in relaying the fraught relationship between two brothers.<br />
<i>Infection</i> is the story of the prodigal Ghanaian son who returns home to bury his sister - who has died from an 'unspoken' illness. <i>The Clock Tower</i> is a simply told story of a widower navigating the intricacies of being alone. In between there was <i>Opague</i>, which like <i>Where the Wounded Go</i> and <i>Volta </i>repeats that same theme of the expat and local. In <i>Opaque</i>, the central character is Frances, the expat wife who leaves her diplomat husband for the Ghanaian businessman. Similarly with <i>Montgomery Akuofo - Father of Twins</i> and <i>Innocent</i>, the unequal relationship is repeated.<br />
<i>At the Malga</i> and <i>Veronique In the Dark</i>, were lovely stories simply telling of human frailties and of a marriage unravelling.<br />
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I enjoyed the stories based in other parts of the world, and this actually annoyed me because I found the characters had more depth and breath than her Ghanaian characters. They were allowed to be normal people getting on with their lives, having normal encounters, dealing with problems that in their normalcy almost seemed banal. To me that simplicity is what captured, and not the almost demeaning characterisation given to her Ghanaian characters. Would I recommend the collection? Yes, for the collection of stories based in other parts of the world, and a word of warning with the Ghana stories - they start to grate after a while.<br />
<br />Wanderlusthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12588551835154184507noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6379995680318430041.post-55888973960063599772015-03-30T15:11:00.002+01:002015-07-11T18:02:57.483+01:00Putting the words on a pageIn the past week I have had numerous conversations with different people in my life about the challenges of 'getting the words on paper' or onto whatever medium. I have not been writing as often and as consistently as I would have liked. Last week my efforts were upended by a new computer and the ensuing setup issues - of course I could have always resorted to the old pen and paper but that would have been too easy.<br />
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A friend and fellow blogger <a href="http://www.mamalovesparis.com/">Mama Loves Paris</a> was unrestrained in her advice: "You can do it girl, just start and keep on writing!". I have slowly been putting the words down after spending an inordinate amount of time reading up on tips about writing from more sources than I dare to count. If only I spent my time more wisely.<br />
Here are the tips I liked and which I have decided to apply to my writing habits going forward:<br />
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<ul>
<li><span style="background-color: white;">Hold yourself accountable</span></li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li><span style="background-color: white;">Have the courage to write badly</span></li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li><span style="background-color: white;">Treat writing as a job. Be disciplined</span></li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li><span style="background-color: white;">Be without fear. Too much fear and all you'll get is silence</span></li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li><span style="background-color: white;">Have more than one idea on the go at any one time</span></li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li><span style="background-color: white;">Finish the day's writing when you still want to continue</span></li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li><span style="background-color: white;">The way to write is to actually just write</span></li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li><span style="background-color: white;">Don't just plan to write - write!</span></li>
</ul>
</blockquote>
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That entire list pretty much sums up what I have not been doing for the last couple of months.</div>
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But change is in the air. So here's to holding myself accountable and to just putting the words on a page!</div>
Wanderlusthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12588551835154184507noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6379995680318430041.post-47765134644652013962015-02-11T10:26:00.000+00:002015-07-11T09:48:28.695+01:00On Reading South Africa<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj50COhyEpnFdZbskUdRtRIY8h5lBH6d4zBqWA8HnuuTcB7eMdcnu6p0j6BcErVXgaHpUH__scCbaguVxx-1PBOhyYnwVlZiYrr0varw4JO8ia-kbrOAA50bswpeUWiAR6j5evHuAug0Kk/s1600/Andre-Brink.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj50COhyEpnFdZbskUdRtRIY8h5lBH6d4zBqWA8HnuuTcB7eMdcnu6p0j6BcErVXgaHpUH__scCbaguVxx-1PBOhyYnwVlZiYrr0varw4JO8ia-kbrOAA50bswpeUWiAR6j5evHuAug0Kk/s1600/Andre-Brink.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">André Brink (1935 - 2015). Photo source: africavivre.com</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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In making my ambitious plans to read everything and anything this year, I decided that one of my reading forays would be into reading South African writers. I have not read that many South African writers and amongst my list of writers to read was of course, <a href="http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/obituaries/11403516/Andre-Brink-novelist-obituary.html">André Brink.</a> Then on Sunday I saw a newspaper article announcing his death and suddenly there was this new urgency to get on with Reading South Africa. I have just taken his book <i>Philida</i> from my bookshelf and I am adding the internationally renowned <i>A Dry White Season</i> to my list. I have to narrow down my reading list though, so that in trying to read everything, I don't end up reading nothing at all. As I write this, a copy of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Marlene_van_Niekerk">Marlene van Niekerk'</a>s 692-page book <i>Agaat</i> is next to my computer. To say it looks intimidating is playing it down. The bar-coded date stamp at the back states that I bought it in March 2008 - it not only sounds like a lifetime ago, but it feels like it too. I think my reading it is long overdue. André Brink is next in my new quest.</div>
Wanderlusthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12588551835154184507noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6379995680318430041.post-64209314003874351932015-02-08T21:44:00.000+00:002015-07-11T10:06:26.898+01:00Gastronomy: "Le Frank" at Fondation Louis Vuitton, Paris<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn_EmfYlS34tjxmrn4wjs75H1vb13pUjHNkLK6Q_yJ0Mw6j6Dki3DZhGkVeIIyQRdvjWPyBfxZnS_eiXykFJcD5cyrnAf4joXf2s010mKuVdPaDNbUhopGiGmIfGbPTg2dyb4vqTLZQfs/s1600/IMG_2709.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn_EmfYlS34tjxmrn4wjs75H1vb13pUjHNkLK6Q_yJ0Mw6j6Dki3DZhGkVeIIyQRdvjWPyBfxZnS_eiXykFJcD5cyrnAf4joXf2s010mKuVdPaDNbUhopGiGmIfGbPTg2dyb4vqTLZQfs/s1600/IMG_2709.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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I finally got to see the recently opened Frank Gehry-designed glass monument that is the <a href="http://www.fondationlouisvuitton.fr/">Fondation Louis Vuitton</a>. It truly is a marvel to behold. There is an entire story behind how the lobbying for its construction went as high as the highest echelons of the National Assembly.</div>
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We finally went today. I took the initiative of ordering the tickets online, hoping to avoid any long queues, but we still queued for about thirty minutes - by which time my children were no longer keen on the idea of museum first, then lunch after. So we joined the queue for <i>Le Frank</i> - the Fondation's restaurant which has been named after the architect.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDYv9buUvDDdFx-E2FvWNgqkyQH98BSD-oVd-lL7XdSXzu2mBEiAIDHs79k-pF4pFx914RVfkpOEEW1FSqkJ4ZCdbVLF_u1-0lOZzai7IZLl5ErKP3D64QKp9l-qtB-4gPfv_O0Wgellw/s1600/IMG_3798.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDYv9buUvDDdFx-E2FvWNgqkyQH98BSD-oVd-lL7XdSXzu2mBEiAIDHs79k-pF4pFx914RVfkpOEEW1FSqkJ4ZCdbVLF_u1-0lOZzai7IZLl5ErKP3D64QKp9l-qtB-4gPfv_O0Wgellw/s1600/IMG_3798.JPG" width="213" /></a>It was a very long wait, and we were finally seated after thirty minutes, but therein ended all our torment. We sat through a wonderful lunch. I am always wary of the quality of some of the restaurants to be found in museums, but to date I have had some surprisingly great experiences. Le Frank was definitely worth the wait.</div>
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We started with the carrot soup with a wasabi-flavoured cream, and a Caesar salad - which was served with a parmesan crust and chicken "oysters" - I can only describe these as tasting like gizzards. Mysterious but tasty though. The service was impeccable, with the servers referring to my nine-year son as 'Sir' which I thought was ridiculous, but they didn't let up. </div>
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The young 'Sir' had a chicken breast with a side salad and fries from the kids menu - the chicken looked rather bland but was actually very tasty and tender ; my daughter had the mushroom-topped beef cheek and I went for the steamed sea bass.</div>
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I must point out that by the time we were seated, we were very hungry and probably would have eaten anything you put in front of us, but I can definitely state the food was excellent - this is not a biased hunger-driven review. The dessert equally so, maybe not so much the meringue with macaron cream. Despite the long wait the service was efficient and professional. I shall definitely be returning when the weather warms up - I see the potential for great al fresco lunches to be had on the terrace.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj69txH-RjvCl8vowRbDhDazgVJso9cUUs3sI1FcxtukiW88AMkfOWRxRaeERScUZm-52HNkYbG3uvL8pwPb5LgOwq820NMt_3vC1EYSSynXSx3PlDpVrpBqBUfBLFioSkciHozMrgQobs/s1600/IMG_2706.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj69txH-RjvCl8vowRbDhDazgVJso9cUUs3sI1FcxtukiW88AMkfOWRxRaeERScUZm-52HNkYbG3uvL8pwPb5LgOwq820NMt_3vC1EYSSynXSx3PlDpVrpBqBUfBLFioSkciHozMrgQobs/s1600/IMG_2706.JPG" width="320" /></a>I had to resort to some bribery to get my people to actually tour the museum after the lunch, they were quite ready to skip the culture and go home.</div>
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<b><a href="http://www.fondationlouisvuitton.fr/le-restaurant.html">Le Frank</a> </b><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">8, Avenue du Mahatma Gandhi</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">Bois de Boulogne - 75116 - Paris</span></span><br />
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<i><u>Note</u>: Reservations are open for Dinner only. Breakfast, Lunch and Afternoon Tea are without reservations.</i><br />
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<br />Wanderlusthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12588551835154184507noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6379995680318430041.post-64421796576505994562015-02-07T09:21:00.000+00:002015-07-11T09:54:32.813+01:00Urban artists pay hommage to Dalí<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Being a sunny, if chilly day, we bundled up and headed out to Montmartre. My daughter, with her keen interest in street art or urban art was keen to see the <i>Dalí Fait Le Mur</i> exhibition at <a href="http://www.africanwanderlust.com/2011/05/big-cheese-at-espace-dali.html">Espace Dalí</a>. If you have ever been to this museum or rather space dedicated to Dalí's work, you will know that it is a very small space, and I wondered how they would fit a collaborative exhibition with the already extensive permanent collection of Dali's reproductions which are housed there.<br />
They managed. If only just. The urban artists'<i> </i>works are juxtaposed alongside Dalí's many and varied sculptures and paintings. The artists, pay hommage to the surrealist painter who once asserted that "Surrealism is me", using the tools of their craft: pencils, stencils, installations, and adhering to the same non-conformist and provocative methods of Dalí himself.<br />
If you are curious about Dalí and also have a combined curiosity about street art, go see it. Caution: It is a very limited space, so go on a quiet day. Images of the outing, which turned out to be a photo journey around one of Paris most famous tourist spots can be seen on <a href="http://wanderlustinparis.com/2015/02/08/wandering-eye-in-montmartre/">Wanderlust in Paris</a>. The exhibition is on until <b>15 March 2015.</b><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4ni_kKBStIEM08qbo1MS3NbMvNfqf_I9PKnLJen_iVzDF4lN9402iUX5hlpo7kLiXXzNjQl0ioD-wyx-bjhybuLtn0sfpC4AHWGYuloZWrpIJL1UdkD8U8vcEiBmrG0Xb3uX1F6y7VL0/s1600/IMG_3753.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4ni_kKBStIEM08qbo1MS3NbMvNfqf_I9PKnLJen_iVzDF4lN9402iUX5hlpo7kLiXXzNjQl0ioD-wyx-bjhybuLtn0sfpC4AHWGYuloZWrpIJL1UdkD8U8vcEiBmrG0Xb3uX1F6y7VL0/s1600/IMG_3753.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Dans L'oeil de Dal</i>í by Speedy Graphito</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Offering</i> by Pioc PPC</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>L'oeil du Couer</i> by Sack</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Confessional </i>by Kouka</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Le Métaphysique de l'Apocalypse</i> by Thomas Mainardi</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A Keith Haring work</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Rencontre au sommet du crâne</i> by Paella</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Monument Hermaphrodite à la femme enfant</i> by Akiza</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD_ugwMVMkC3nKwx7620F-12IWYzPFWDyGLQKgO1jA5xW49RrhNstvEDs7FisUrmb7tlRM4Lp6JDgXtfPaiwy_9gGJQTxWDwCHbHyqQS8byX6SBeuGGFkdU3x2uwKN6aXu4buLF3PQaMY/s1600/IMG_3763.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD_ugwMVMkC3nKwx7620F-12IWYzPFWDyGLQKgO1jA5xW49RrhNstvEDs7FisUrmb7tlRM4Lp6JDgXtfPaiwy_9gGJQTxWDwCHbHyqQS8byX6SBeuGGFkdU3x2uwKN6aXu4buLF3PQaMY/s1600/IMG_3763.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Thunder </i>by Kool Koor</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzBv-PYifjCK8cE6kt0iTpbbmYW7EmoFlQ9YwlkRb1aQMpwnJFEcxxGh96TphWXnKADyn3pTjDg3by4BmwMxazVZ0pGRtSIbqLXN0UBTyq-keC5xAO0TfetNRwWiBZtNYYoYEJAQ_YHqk/s1600/IMG_3764.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzBv-PYifjCK8cE6kt0iTpbbmYW7EmoFlQ9YwlkRb1aQMpwnJFEcxxGh96TphWXnKADyn3pTjDg3by4BmwMxazVZ0pGRtSIbqLXN0UBTyq-keC5xAO0TfetNRwWiBZtNYYoYEJAQ_YHqk/s1600/IMG_3764.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Godiva </i>by Manser</td></tr>
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<br />Wanderlusthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12588551835154184507noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6379995680318430041.post-70357764337066167762015-02-06T15:29:00.000+00:002015-07-11T18:03:12.047+01:00On learning a new language<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgReaHq0IAIhNBRavgrnlUcQ94GboTf2Zv6U18QFAK91q09-kX-LwuToEX3TQylt-ksjBHzDhG57SxBLDys0k74buedHOX884fm1X-Hpe8Jw0eWBFXG_PV5W5btPRlesXvOdt1PHeiJO34/s1600/IMG_3691.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgReaHq0IAIhNBRavgrnlUcQ94GboTf2Zv6U18QFAK91q09-kX-LwuToEX3TQylt-ksjBHzDhG57SxBLDys0k74buedHOX884fm1X-Hpe8Jw0eWBFXG_PV5W5btPRlesXvOdt1PHeiJO34/s1600/IMG_3691.JPG" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgReaHq0IAIhNBRavgrnlUcQ94GboTf2Zv6U18QFAK91q09-kX-LwuToEX3TQylt-ksjBHzDhG57SxBLDys0k74buedHOX884fm1X-Hpe8Jw0eWBFXG_PV5W5btPRlesXvOdt1PHeiJO34/s1600/IMG_3691.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgReaHq0IAIhNBRavgrnlUcQ94GboTf2Zv6U18QFAK91q09-kX-LwuToEX3TQylt-ksjBHzDhG57SxBLDys0k74buedHOX884fm1X-Hpe8Jw0eWBFXG_PV5W5btPRlesXvOdt1PHeiJO34/s1600/IMG_3691.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeWBGnTIcvnsGK-yiXtSndrbGQzlZxPrGCxPkQ_VfCYs7JP3AzxpVU9Pdrl93apaMKlWE8b9u_7gPc1vOa9NrzPBmK8erbCho0jEoF6uUORWZxrWu5NGp91vvwWyZ4agXtYi43TPNsWOw/s1600/IMG_3693.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeWBGnTIcvnsGK-yiXtSndrbGQzlZxPrGCxPkQ_VfCYs7JP3AzxpVU9Pdrl93apaMKlWE8b9u_7gPc1vOa9NrzPBmK8erbCho0jEoF6uUORWZxrWu5NGp91vvwWyZ4agXtYi43TPNsWOw/s1600/IMG_3693.JPG" width="320" /></a>I had lofty ambitions of regaling you with weekly tales of my Sorbonne stories. But between daily grammar classes, 7:30am classes on writing and oral reinforcement, lunch periods spent in the phonetics lab, mornings spent reviewing previous days' notes, nights spent studying for weekly tests - all those ambitious plans fell by the wayside very early into my semester. It is now over, and yesterday as I sat through the 'graduation' ceremony (all pomp and ceremony for a semester course, absolutely loved it!) with past<i> </i>luminaries of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Acad%C3%A9mie_fran%C3%A7aise"><span class="st"><i>L'Académie française</i></span></a> looking down on us from their hallowed vantage points in the cornices, it felt good to have risen to the challenge. We were in good company - Founding father of La Sorbonne, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Robert_de_Sorbon">Robert de Sorbonne</a>, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cardinal_Richelieu">Richelieu</a>, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Blaise_Pascal">Pascal</a>, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ren%C3%A9_Descartes">Descartes</a>, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Antoine_Lavoisier">Lavoisier</a>, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Charles_Rollin">Rollin</a> ....<br />
Would I repeat it again? Maybe, a very non-committal 'maybe'. It was a
grueling four months - mind you not my first semester, but one which
took a lot more of out of me than previous ones. I may not be too keen
to resort to the classroom learning again for the moment, but I am
living the learning everyday.<br />
<a name='more'></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmgyKOeaI39L1pm6wgl1FQbVbEU_rl7C46Odbpb08KAT-JPhcH_KNN3SnPFqYrNDiTS0Yw5mpUjmmPjeOLGIMVIi0tB2G7q0w6vInIW1WPwol7QXpFcnr_0_JxzNytWwXH2T7QKe87Xic/s1600/IMG_3698.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmgyKOeaI39L1pm6wgl1FQbVbEU_rl7C46Odbpb08KAT-JPhcH_KNN3SnPFqYrNDiTS0Yw5mpUjmmPjeOLGIMVIi0tB2G7q0w6vInIW1WPwol7QXpFcnr_0_JxzNytWwXH2T7QKe87Xic/s1600/IMG_3698.JPG" width="320" /></a> In a recent conversation with the <i>Gardienne</i> (concierge) of our building, I learnt that she was not feeling well, and thus followed an exchange about her health that lasted about ten minutes - pretty much the same
conversation I would have had with my mother or an elderly aunt about
their health, but one that is only now possible with this dear lady because we can now communicate with ease, or maybe it is that after having lived in our current building for more than two years we have now surpassed
that formal, reserved, arm's length rapport and moved on to much warmer
and neighbourly relations. And who said forging relationships is France was hard? Either way, the conversation went swimmingly well. I was still patting myself on the back as I took the
elevator upstairs. It is when moments like these happen that I feel like
the past four months have been well worth it. <br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuzYpHmmsqa14bEN36UqtxynXNyPFPX1Nsal5LY007S44FhOQ7bBEVm54fZYXlv663pRsu1wVR6fOnAgoFOqMEXhWwlXQOyFW4hER5ptntRpuEqd4-r6RrK1bnFPuZhIncGmPTj_wyFJ0/s1600/IMG_3717.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuzYpHmmsqa14bEN36UqtxynXNyPFPX1Nsal5LY007S44FhOQ7bBEVm54fZYXlv663pRsu1wVR6fOnAgoFOqMEXhWwlXQOyFW4hER5ptntRpuEqd4-r6RrK1bnFPuZhIncGmPTj_wyFJ0/s1600/IMG_3717.jpg" width="213" /></a><br />
Learning a new language is a funny thing. It is an evolutionary process, the benefits of which are not realised immediately, but can hit you unexpectedly, and when they do...<i>g<span class="st">é</span>nial!</i>*. So now that the classroom learning is behind me, it's
the matter of speaking the language. A friend
advised that I head out to our local <i>Mairie</i> and sign up for those
social classes on offer: cooking, mahjong , sketching, yoga, pilates -
all of which are on offer in French. Apparently nothing but full
immersion will do to ensure I stay on course and keep improving.
Suddenly the idea does not sound too daunting. I will keep you posted on
how that pans out.<br />
-----------<br />
* wow!<br />
<br />
I have completed three semesters studying French and French Civilisation at the Sorbonne, and would highly recommend this course. It is for everyone - from the complete beginners, to those looking to read and crititique French literature. On offer are also profession-specific French courses i.e Law, Economics/Business and Medicine.<br />
<br />
<b><a href="http://www.ccfs-sorbonne.fr/?lang=en">Cours de Civilisation Française de la Sorbonne</a></b><br />
214 Boulevard Raspail<br />
75014 Paris.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVX3FVrz40B9kgbB6sNxwgDBjD7ghrVwEfe9FY_A5-YAZCQW3-znSsq2kJcKptdI0F7IvwbDka1kw-RqgZ5c5XDWfIFcXAoOvHMy9Xa9EmwiIPJbKslqEFjVbK9Wh2rOi64cIIyiRA6aY/s1600/IMG_3676.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVX3FVrz40B9kgbB6sNxwgDBjD7ghrVwEfe9FY_A5-YAZCQW3-znSsq2kJcKptdI0F7IvwbDka1kw-RqgZ5c5XDWfIFcXAoOvHMy9Xa9EmwiIPJbKslqEFjVbK9Wh2rOi64cIIyiRA6aY/s1600/IMG_3676.jpg" width="265" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Robert de Sorbon</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3DSYbjFPlrkxuSJ0qw1-Jz9DewprpoFP1fXgvqXMZrI4OBXOlDD12RAdiTXBJYdqhmX6qQ79O59J8ICHtHF7PSojL0sfZKMwL-PfbLGwmpLc1NKSjZJ6-5QDwZp4dHvjM2GXKTrdCHWM/s1600/IMG_3675.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3DSYbjFPlrkxuSJ0qw1-Jz9DewprpoFP1fXgvqXMZrI4OBXOlDD12RAdiTXBJYdqhmX6qQ79O59J8ICHtHF7PSojL0sfZKMwL-PfbLGwmpLc1NKSjZJ6-5QDwZp4dHvjM2GXKTrdCHWM/s1600/IMG_3675.jpg" width="265" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Blaise Pascal</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw4poVgdJ6wv3GzHCSEhJ0TNdneEQgOapLRQ_eIbe_4tHdA7p1MGqYCLDHogFRo1m0Uk_Z7pFnJne1i3BFIsA86cmfG79IV3bbx4Q-Xok22xaON_2InjO1yWnqr5X6xHvubHVeVNT9AZc/s1600/IMG_3674.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw4poVgdJ6wv3GzHCSEhJ0TNdneEQgOapLRQ_eIbe_4tHdA7p1MGqYCLDHogFRo1m0Uk_Z7pFnJne1i3BFIsA86cmfG79IV3bbx4Q-Xok22xaON_2InjO1yWnqr5X6xHvubHVeVNT9AZc/s1600/IMG_3674.jpg" width="265" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Charles Rollin</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc_RpCqT2qMsB4HwL-xSlXVQQJEaw6wcMw6568-CKLjmpTNRE7Fy1qYOMdnqsj8YEMJYMjHMXCbFzHH4dYdGXxFIsgTIOGp5W1ax5KZnDeVtfFx0yUnccBOZlsVEkB9l_LD9-L5AJ4TZw/s1600/IMG_3677.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc_RpCqT2qMsB4HwL-xSlXVQQJEaw6wcMw6568-CKLjmpTNRE7Fy1qYOMdnqsj8YEMJYMjHMXCbFzHH4dYdGXxFIsgTIOGp5W1ax5KZnDeVtfFx0yUnccBOZlsVEkB9l_LD9-L5AJ4TZw/s1600/IMG_3677.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">René Descartes<b><br /></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRmnDvtDmedgUvp7WGlX-U1bL-CFjUjym2J594-3N0m4GtA06tvHs_KRWPtScmLLZA_3oXgMd0QZFDBCCDqlxgrRSHw5C5vIazFV7XaG8Q07mvcVV_RNQiel6DVD4flIIJApgiQYm47no/s1600/IMG_3678.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRmnDvtDmedgUvp7WGlX-U1bL-CFjUjym2J594-3N0m4GtA06tvHs_KRWPtScmLLZA_3oXgMd0QZFDBCCDqlxgrRSHw5C5vIazFV7XaG8Q07mvcVV_RNQiel6DVD4flIIJApgiQYm47no/s1600/IMG_3678.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Antoine Lavoisier</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGrxk3rrmGIZd1YzBWDUe6pvoMblIIZpYpIESqbAbWhGsiMyiZGIc4xdN6D-GBPaIPvm0puddH6X_LsYTgJnNZ5s0lWvEtW9hDW08UdqjTXgE3gfrVnq6ij_nCpoGfHCUb3R43AYxZhK0/s1600/IMG_3721.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGrxk3rrmGIZd1YzBWDUe6pvoMblIIZpYpIESqbAbWhGsiMyiZGIc4xdN6D-GBPaIPvm0puddH6X_LsYTgJnNZ5s0lWvEtW9hDW08UdqjTXgE3gfrVnq6ij_nCpoGfHCUb3R43AYxZhK0/s1600/IMG_3721.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCy_9Cvlpmtjqp2kpj2N9fqqNbkWvtFlRdpH6lr54UqOWxXd2NHB2y9nH8Zs2UjGim76InK8PR31xtkLksJGLL6P5xEvSrO4p98vEz7XLk1ZGR-5D4vB4ODgWGhcmWchpBjGpAYkFEtLE/s1600/IMG_3725.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCy_9Cvlpmtjqp2kpj2N9fqqNbkWvtFlRdpH6lr54UqOWxXd2NHB2y9nH8Zs2UjGim76InK8PR31xtkLksJGLL6P5xEvSrO4p98vEz7XLk1ZGR-5D4vB4ODgWGhcmWchpBjGpAYkFEtLE/s1600/IMG_3725.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And the entrance to the inner sanctum of the Grand Ampitheatre.</td></tr>
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<br />Wanderlusthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12588551835154184507noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6379995680318430041.post-77468668612597779692015-02-03T09:03:00.000+00:002015-07-11T09:56:19.163+01:00Reading the classics and tales about magic<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj617jZyzCezIrE_0ExeBXOOXJG3pLjFAvU5fKqmu6evv67_SrQf5RgUixCI23omd9OBD5XSYNYohvopmj1Y55d_Pn-fiOCvnINKH7D-6vvFSDGPkTGBTOE3TB_RaUxyHggDCb9fCZMl-8/s1600/Harper_Lee.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj617jZyzCezIrE_0ExeBXOOXJG3pLjFAvU5fKqmu6evv67_SrQf5RgUixCI23omd9OBD5XSYNYohvopmj1Y55d_Pn-fiOCvnINKH7D-6vvFSDGPkTGBTOE3TB_RaUxyHggDCb9fCZMl-8/s1600/Harper_Lee.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Harper Lee.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I have written about my aversion towards mandated reading that forces one to read a certain genre merely because at the time it is deemed important enough to add to one's literary repertoire. I must confess that when it comes to the classics, I do still have a lot of to-be-read (TBR) books on both my kindle and on my bookshelf, for which I will ignore my own rules. I am 'shadow' reading with my children. My son is finally getting into the Harry Potter books - so I have decided that maybe it's about time I found out what J.K. Rowling did to spawn an entire generation and more of magic enthusiasts. As he reads <i>The Philosopher's Stone </i>in paperback, I am following on my kindle.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2-_v9sOxbWgazzS4-LVlIaOhcREpDLvbbaxAYP5bK3F3haY1r5ELtgR2Przc7tTSIKwZQeK5GmHQCgNE6r1snrf0pqZkPSv5I5jnaEGvnNMszBpnuRUDnjKU8VBB86swCLFZKBgm53dY/s1600/J.K.-Rowling.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2-_v9sOxbWgazzS4-LVlIaOhcREpDLvbbaxAYP5bK3F3haY1r5ELtgR2Przc7tTSIKwZQeK5GmHQCgNE6r1snrf0pqZkPSv5I5jnaEGvnNMszBpnuRUDnjKU8VBB86swCLFZKBgm53dY/s1600/J.K.-Rowling.jpg" width="290" /></a><br />
My daughter started reading Harper Lee's <i>To Kill A Mockingbird. </i>But now that the reclusive author has decided to follow it up with a sequel, 50 years after <i>To Kill a Mockingbird</i> was published - a decision that has been met with mixed reactions, I am no longer sure how I feel about reading it. Will the 'sequel' now be a requirement, for me to have had the full Harper Lee experience? I will still read it though, as it is on my Classics TBR list, but I am even more curious about what could have possibly compelled Harper Lee to follow up her classic, with what was the first book she ever wrote - when she should be sitting back and enjoying her days in the full knowledge that she wrote a book that transcended generations, and one which did not require the magic sequel formula of the new classics like JK Rowling's work. <br />
<br />Wanderlusthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12588551835154184507noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6379995680318430041.post-55422709250550345052015-02-01T18:24:00.000+00:002015-07-11T10:08:11.486+01:00Books: WHITE TEETH by Zadie Smith<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gPzBcl4cbHk/Tt4TxTULvNI/AAAAAAAAIn4/PPEo03n845w/s1600/IMG_0487.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gPzBcl4cbHk/Tt4TxTULvNI/AAAAAAAAIn4/PPEo03n845w/s1600/IMG_0487.JPG" width="206" /></a>Title: White Teeth<br />
Author: Zadie Smith<br />
Published: 2000<br />
Genre: Fiction<br />
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Zadie Smith's <i>White Teeth</i> took me close to two months to finish. That for me is a very long time, but it was read between a whole lot of other commitments. I read it during my daily commute, when I had a few moments waiting for my son's violin class to finish, and in between studying and writing and procrastinating. I finally finished it two weeks ago and it has taken me this long to write down my thoughts of it. I took it off my 'To Be Read' (TBR) shelf expecting to be wowed, after all, the reviews that accompanied the book when it was published in 2000 were more than hyperbolic in their praise of Smith's raw talent: how it was reminiscent of Rushdie's brilliance, how her turn of phrase was incomparable to none other, so steady and controlled for a debut writer.<br />
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I liked <i>White Teeth</i> enough to finish it. I thoroughly enjoyed how Smith tied so many characters into the book - it does have quite the crowded character listing. Zadie writes dialogue that makes one wonder whether in between studying for her finals at Cambridge (which was when she wrote <i>White Teeth</i>), she was a voyeur in the lives of the the people who inspired her Pakistani, Jamaican, Watch Tower enthusiasts, and Muslim characters, or if she is just a very observant writer.<br />
The plot in a paragraph: Impossible, but I will try. It begins with the opening paragraph of Archie Jones' failed suicide attempt, following his divorce in what can only be described as a marriage that should have never happened.<br />
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Archie Jones attempted suicide because his first wife Ophelia, a violet-eyed Italian with a faint moustache, had recently divorced him. But he had not spent New Year's morning gagging on the tube of a vacuum cleaner becaue he loved her. It was rather because he had lived with her for so long and had <i>not </i>loved her. </blockquote>
The narrative moves on to introduce an ensemble of characters from varying backgrounds: Samad Iqbal, who served in the War with Archie Jones and thus the basis for their longstanding friendship; his feisty wife Alsana; Clara Jones, the young and beautiful Jamaican wife of Archie Jones, who has escaped life from her oppressive, Jehovah's Witness fanatic mother, Hortense - herself the result of a slave girl and a priest.<br />
The two couples are raising their children in the racially-diverse yet poverty-stricken Willesdan -all dealing with the multiculturalism of their neighbourhood, their struggles to assimilate, their desires for new experiences, how they deal with prejudice, and with the banalities of their lives. Their children Irie Jones and the twins Magid and Millat Iqbal are the new generation who also have their share of trials in a society that tolerates but does not necessarily embrace diversity. In his fear that his boys are becoming too westernised, Samad sends one of his boys back to Pakistan, a decision to separate them based purely on financial reasons.<br />
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The author introduces the Chilfens, an intellectual Jewish family that offers some haven for Irie and the remaining twin, Millat. The reader learns of a new kind of dysfunction, even in the midst of this middle class family. The mother Joyce, a horticulturalist is more interested in Irie and Millat than in her own children - especially the insecure Joshua, and the father Marcus is more enamoured with his 'mouse project', a project focusing around the genetic modifications of a mouse. Millat, the twin growing up in England turns towards some misinformed fundamentalism, whilst Magid, the one growing up in Pakistan returns a "wig-wearing Englishman" with atheist views - much to the ire of his father. The author brings into the picture the history of Clara's mother's Hortense past; Clara's own past, and an ex-boyfriend who has now been converted by Hortense. It is a very complex plot with a multitude of characters. The author tries to bring it all together in a climatic finale that doesn't quite do the book justice. The ending, after a fairly enjoyable read just fell flat.<br />
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Despite my unenthusiastic thoughts on the book, I still have Smith's <i>NW</i> and <i>On Beauty</i> on my TBR shelf - and am planning on getting stuck into them in the coming months.Wanderlusthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12588551835154184507noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6379995680318430041.post-90319377915290865552015-01-25T00:25:00.000+00:002015-07-11T18:03:25.238+01:00On the fractures left by the Charlie Hebdo attacksIt has been more than two weeks since the heinous attacks at the offices of the satirical magazine Charlie Hebdo, but their aftermath still dominates our lives. Now local and international papers are running editorials on the renewed threat of 'international jihadism' - further emphasising the insecurity the world faces.<br />
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On January 7 and in the days that followed, I watched in horror as all the local and international television channels covered the Paris attacks. Then the world took on the Spartacus call of #Je suis Charlie; quickly followed by the debates on the need for responsible journalism. My fourteen year old daughter came home after a debate in her Global Issues class on <i>The right to freedom of speech </i>versus<i> The right for respect of individual beliefs </i> - a debate which left her uncertain of where she stood. There was the insecurity felt by an eight year old when all he saw was the gratuitous violence of the attacks which left him fearful of a larger scale attack on France, and in the days that followed all he wanted to know was whether we would be moving to a different country. Other parts of the world and other groups of the French population took up a call in protest declaring that #They were not Charlie; then followed the heated debates which divided many depending on which side of the Freedom of Speech spectrum they stood - all of which have left France with the realization of the need for some real introspection on their <i>liberté, égalité </i>and <i>fraternité.</i><br />
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This week <a href="http://www.courrierinternational.com/">Courrier International </a>and L'Obs are paying special attention to the threat of 'homegrown jihadism', to the 'cracks in French society' that the attacks have exposed, and to France's failure in integrating its immigrant population. This following on the past week's <a href="http://www.euronews.com/2015/01/20/ethnic-apartheid-exists-in-france-says-pm-manuel-valls/">speech by the Prime Minister on the "geographic, social and ethnic apartheid"</a> that ails France.<br />
The attacks have left a rupture in the facade of the 'well-functioning society' of just a few weeks ago. It has exposed old persecution fears and reignited new religious prejudices: the Jewish population now feels more threatened and the Muslim population once again stigmatized. From the Left to the Right, politicians are all talking in carefully couched words on the need to look at the 'integration' problem. The Front National in the meantime is capitalizing on that fracture- reiterating the need to address the 'Islamisation of Europe', deftly avoiding any anti-immigrant mention.<br />
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To say it has been a horrific start to 2015 for France is an understatement. It will certainly be one that forces a great deal of introspection on the French population. One only hopes that as with all issues brought to the fore by relentless media coverage, the impetus to delve below the surface of the superficial talk does not wane after a few months as politicians move on to the next more pressing problem and quietly park the 'social problems' which, as has been illustrated by events of the past weeks, <i>can</i> threaten the security of a country.<br />
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Wishing you a very belated New Year, and hoping it only gets better from here on.<br />
<br />Wanderlusthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12588551835154184507noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6379995680318430041.post-32910882741171866342014-11-16T15:16:00.000+00:002015-07-11T10:09:10.878+01:00Books: CRY BABY by Lauren Liebenberg<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Title: Cry Baby <br />
Author: Lauren Liebenberg <br />
Published: 2013<br />
Genre: Fiction<br />
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I read Lauren Liebenberg's deliciously-named, <i>The Voluptuous Delights of Peanut Butter and Jam</i> many years ago. I enjoyed it immensely and had been looking forward to reading her third book, Cry Baby. It is a story of an upper middle class couple, living in the Northern Suburbs of Johannesburg raising their two young boys - one of whom has terrifying nightmares that have an otherworldly significance to them. The author's point of view changes from that of the two adults to that of the little boy throughout the book.<br />
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There is the father, Michael, a banker frustrated with his job and his daily commute, accepting yet despondent about his middle-class existence in the suburbs. There is a palpable frustration with his life that the author writes of it extremely well. Grace, the mother's point of view is that of a former career woman now turned stay-at-home mom . She now does the mummy run - driving her kids to school, extra-curriculars, and navigating her way around the playground and parking lot politics of stay-at-home moms. There is an equal discontent in her, made worse by the constant worry about her son's nightmares. The author describes the younger son's nightmares well enough to draw the reader into his terror. The parents have tried all interventions - all of which have been put down to behavioural problems. They dismiss their domestic helper's advice that they seek alternative forms of treatment, as she believes their son's nightmares display more than a hint of the supernatural.<br />
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It is only after an incident that sees their son accidentally overdosing on his mother's prescription anti-depressants that the parents discover that he has a brain tumour, that has been the cause of his difficult behaviour and nightmares. The incident leaves the parents reassessing their lives, their discontent and their desire for a more fulfilled life. They give up their neat suburban lives in Johannesburg to move to Zimbabwe - to a life that could not be more different from their current.<br />
It is here that the family goes to heal. It is also here that Grace learns that Sam's nightmares of the 'blonde dream girl' are those of her aunt who died when she was six years old of a brain aneurysm, finally making that supernatural link that the author hints at throughout the book.<br />
Liebenberg's book is a combination of a mother's dealing with her discontent in her current role; a father's frustration with his having settled for an ordinary life; and a family's rediscovery of themselves outside their ordinary suburban lives.<br />
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The reality of the suburban life and the competition of the perfect moms was all too familiar to me. Lauren Liebenberg, in her satirical look at this life was spot on. I chuckled in many places and nodded in agreement in most. She does a great job writing describing this world, and I am certain many mothers in South Africa living this world can relate, or at least cringe a bit on the accuracy of it all.<br />
<br />Wanderlusthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12588551835154184507noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6379995680318430041.post-66244600633807082122014-11-11T13:24:00.000+00:002015-07-11T18:03:39.376+01:00Honouring the fallen on Armistice Day<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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This parade happens every year in my neighbourhood. Our apartment is directly opposite a historical monument, Place Winston Churchill. Along with the numerous other parades that take place in and around Paris on this day - most notably the one on the Champs Elysées - to honour the signing of the armistice between the Allies and Germany, a commemoration takes place in Neuilly-sur-Seine annually.<br />
This year was no different. It is a brief, yet solemn event. These photos were taken last year, but the event was no different this year.<br />
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<br />Wanderlusthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12588551835154184507noreply@blogger.com0