Great day - wrote for much of the morning, caught up with my sister, then went into Funchal with Martin. We pretty much just sat around chatting for hours, which was heavenly.
overwhelming unconscious urge in her. She checked over the plants, removed dead leaves, tidied the kitchen surfaces, arranged the fridge magnets - it was a haven of activity! I could see relief wash over her when she saw the pantry - it truly looks like something Doris Day put together. I love pantries :)When he grew up he conveyed himself along in a large bowl fortified by iron, in which he was embedded. This man was the original "Billy in the Bowl," for though many other personages who got along in various ways were honoured with the same sobriquet, yet this fellow was the king of them all.
He soon ingratiated himself with the simple servant maids from Meath in the respectable houses of Oxmantown. "It's only Billy in the Bowl, ma'am." "Oh, very well," and Billy's bowl was filled with beef, bread, etc. Nature had compensated for his curtailment by giving him fine dark eyes, an aquiline nose, and a well-formed mouth, with dark curling locks, and a body and arms of herculean power.
When I moved to the UK I had to get used to a mostly bonfire-less halloween - instead we had Bonfire Night a few days later. Several villages in Devon have developed their own unique traditions for celebrating. In Ottery St Mary it's the night of the tar barrels - a crowd of thousands line the village and try to stay out of the way as people run through with flaming tar barrels on their backs. In the village of Shebbear they 'turn the Devil's stone' (which weighs about one tonne) to ensure good fortune for the coming year.
Apparently when you blush the lining of your stomach also turns red..jpg)
come on just makes everybody else nervous.
There's thunder right over the building, windows are rattling, the world is all white and misty with the palm trees doing their Dance of the Arcs.
I had a screensaver of Stonehenge on my laptop for a while. One day Landlady came in and pointed at it, "We have one of those here".I used to work for a fundamental christian in the States, and one of his pet projects was finding the Ark. Many believe that it's buried on the top of Mount Sinai, so he hired a super-duper military helicopter to take him up there. The local authorities saw what they thought was the US military approaching. It did not go well.
Anyhoo, have a lovely Halloween!
It's a bank holiday in Ireland, and I've adopted an easygoing schedule for the day (that's right: any excuse).
What goodies were waiting in the mailbox!
If I had rented a cabin by the side of a lake (and indeed, I used to live in one in Michigan - photos attached) I could have holed up there for a year and written away in total seclusion. The thing about living here is that if you tried to live like a hermit, people would notice.
While the lake I used to live at had deer and waterlillies and racoons and squirrels (who ate all my strawberries), this place strikes a balance between providing the space I need to write, and the company to avoid going bat-crazy!
My lovely landlady rents other properties, and I gave her a hand setting up (i.e., I set up) a website ad, email account etc. When it came to accepting payment I suggested paypal, only to learn that she didn't actually have any bank cards (it is such a cash culture here).
I love hearing 'day in the life' stories from friends and so the 'blog road trip' came to mind; here is our first one! Anne-flore is French, lives in Devon, and in between LSD trips (that's a type of running - long slow distance) finds time to work on a Ph.D. in things of a mappy nature.
Hello! Most of you probably don't know me, so I'll just say that I'm friend of Orlaith's from Exeter. I was in Istanbul at the weekend with a couple of friends, and Orlaith's asked me to guest blog and share a couple of pictures from the city that was once Byzantium and Constantinople.
Istanbul is a pretty big city full of contrasts. To go for the cliché (that is none the less pretty true), it is where the East meets the West, although I found that it satisfied my idea of the East more than it resembled my experience of the West. This was largely due to the days being rhythmically guided by the crying of the imams who call out five times a day from the city's many mosques. The fact that this was the last few days of the fast of Ramadan exacerbated the awareness of being a visitor to a very foreign culture.
History greeted us at nearly every street corner in Sultanahamet, the most easterly of the western shore of the Bosporus. The Haghia Sophia is by far the most impressive of these constructions, because it has visible traces of having swapped religions over the centuries before settling on being a mosque. Conversely, the nearby Blue Mosque (which is still in use) is a monument to Islam through the ages. The epitomous blues tiles create an eerie atmosphere that remind worshippers and visitors that this is a spiritual place.
The Topkapi Palace a few blocks away was the hub of Ottoman power for more than 3 centuries, and is an edifice that I will shamelessly compare to Versailles. Overlooking the Bosphorous on the Golden Horn, the location is stunning and foregrounds the strategic location of the city. There was an impressive harem (no longer in use, I hasten to add) that once housed up to 400 concubines. There were a lot of blue tiles here, all exquisitely painted and mysteriously entrancing. This where we also got to see a pair of sandals that once belonged to the prophet Mohammed as well as a box that contained a lock of his hair. This was kinda weird.
Not far, still, was the Grand Bazaar where one can purchase all the counterfeit Prada, Dolce & Gabbana and Louis Vuitton one could possibly want. (For the records, I did not partake.) I found this place unexpectedly pleasant, and the shopkeepers not too overbearing. Of course, there were a lot of "Lady, come look", but a quick shake of the head was enough to move on in peace. There were a lot of comparatively authentic trinkets here, such as lamps, ceramics and backgammon boards, so, while the shoppers were mainly tourists, there was a somewhat real feel to the whole thing. Basically, not your everyday shopping mall!
The night scene is pretty scarce. In the Tünel and Taksim quarters (where Starbucks and Levi's can be found), a couple of bars and kebab restaurants constituted most of what there is to do once it's dark and the fast can be broken. The local liquor is raki which is a very strong aniseed drink that seems to resemble Greek ouzo. A couple of those and it's time to go home in a dolmus (shared taxi) that whizzes through the illuminated city faster than I care to know...
All this was fuelled by many exciting foods, my favourites being the sweet and rich baklavas. I highly recommend! But it's also the place for various meats, such as sheep's small intestine, which I must say I stayed as far as possible from...
Oh, and just quickly, because this is me, I'll have to mention that there are some great maps to be seen in Istanbul. Very pretty indeed, with the Ottoman script and sophisticated gilt cartouches.
What was also really cool was the earthquake on Friday night. Yeah, it was very mild and lasted only about 15 seconds. The building shook, the windows shook, the sofa shook, the piranhas in their aquarium shook (yes, my friend has an aquarium with piranhas -- and I slept with my head no more than a couple of yards from them. Scary!).
Orlaith, back to you!
Bazaars and raki and earthquakes oh my! A fabulous glimpse into another world - thank you so much :)
Howling winds, lashing rain... the clouds were actually below the level of my apartment when I woke.
As soon as I got stuck into writing last night the codebreakers called - in case I wanted to see the QE2 as it disappeared into the mist on its voyage from Funchal to Port Elizabeth.Ahem, just getting down to some proper writing now.
I did set out on this task around noon, but as it turned out, I was distracted. The good news is that I've made enough granola for a Roman legion, juiced the pomegranate (yum! - in one of her throwaway rude judgemental comments Martha Stewart said that the 'undiscriminating' think pomegranate juice tastes like cranberry juice. Er, I also watched Martha Stewart today - and I think I've done very well not to glitter a decorative bird and make lavender sachets for my imaginary cottage in Maine. But I digress -), finally found a sieve fine enough to cope with quinoa, and made chamomile-infused olive oil for nice facials.
Man this place smells good!
Anyway, down to work rightnowthisminute. Promise.
The shops have been filled with Christmas decoration displays since September. Today I finally caved and gave in to temptation.
