Pinot, Bretzels, and Cathedrals

Midsummer tomorrow, and with the rain finally falling softly on this midsummers eve evening, I feel like we’re in a pretty content space of chilled-ness.

Spring- in all of its late coldness finally brought forth the bushels of elderflower from which I made various batches of cordial. On top of that, I discovered the concept of Marcel Proust’s Madeleine- literally over the course of 2 days as I reaped elderflower, I read an article by South African food & culture literary marvel in France Marita van der Vyfer. She was writing about the nostalgia and sentiments evoked by elder flower in the manner of Marcel Proust and his madeleins. A day later, I saw a prompt on a Strasbourg social media page about Prousts Madeleins. I feel like I could write something in a similar vein about various aspects of my childhood and food, but for another day.

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However, I have been active writing on my Instagram page, with some emotional pieces, some pretty photography, because with my return to work, and the summer, things have been pretty full on over here. I will be dropping a few pieces below from both Facebook and Instagram.

May 23rd. My work station looks like it did 7 months ago (gratefully after a deep clean). A cutting board. Knives to the right. Home-minced, handmade burger patties behind the fridge door. The fryers smoke lightly and the combi-steamer oven rattles and hums. The buzz of the pub outside of the doors continues with an occasional wafting of cigarette smoke heading my way. (In a world of Only Terrace Dining, the non smokers have lost out). The restaurant itself is dark as the clouds pass over again, and the lights remain switched off. Waiters with trays of pints of beers rush backwards and forwards and the ticket printer spits out orders for burgers- well done, rare, with a Gorgonzola Sauce, a Jameson Sauce, no cheese, with cheese, crispy bacon, no bacon…
The threat of Covid is forgotten it seems, tables are filled with friends gesticulating wildly over their beers, some with their arms wrapped across another’s shoulders. Briefly the clouds open, dropping cold rain onto the diners, themselves unable to retreat indoors, but happy enough to wait out the downpour under the wide umbrellas.
My family is around somewhere, enjoying a plate of fries and the company of friends. Friends who have popped in for a drink, friends who have passed by while out shopping.
After 8 hours, we rush off home, dinner here is a mad grapple at something nutritious and filling and quick, myself exhausted after days spent at work for the first period in 7 months. All hopes to go for a walk with the family are firmly dashed as I collapse with fatigue, exhaustion and post vaccination pain. And just feel. Sweet nothing.

May 30th. Mothers Day 2021.13 years as a Mom and also 10 as a Mom of a Drama Llama.Gosh, but you two really make me so proud. Thank you for the love, for the affirmation that I exist. Now perhaps if you could learn to pack away your own laundry, shower without being asked to, empty the dishwasher equally, or run a vacuum cleaner across the floors with random occasion as independently as you took yourselves off for a haircut. 😜Jokes aside – or rather- snide comments aside, thank you for being the gorgeous souls you are. May you continue to be fierce, proud, humble, honourable, courageous, brave, passionate, gentle, loving and still as strong as you are.And to the man behind the scenes who doesn’t ‘do’ selfies as often, (but does indulge my affinity for clouds and bright flowers) thank you for your support. Without you around, I would lie in bed all day sleeping, eat only scrambled eggs and crisps, and definitely wouldn’t enjoy a coffee at dawn every single day.Love you,
Xxx

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15th June.11pm. Tuesday.

I am finally out of my chef whites but the stench of burger fat and deep fried chips still linger on my skin and in my hair. The sweat is omnipresent. From the nape of my neck, right there at the hairline, to the space where sweat pools in my socks, my skin must taste like I’ve stepped out of the ocean. This hot summer evening is just as guilty for the saltiness as the greasy kitchen is.

It’s a Football Night.

From a suitable vantage point to observe the vibe, I can see the pub is as full as these Covid times allow: 150 bums in seats. It’s not quite the same as a pre-Covid era match where tables would spill over with extra bodies, beers would be swilled and vodka shots downed.

But tonight, given the level of sweat and fat cloying my skin, it feels like every single person here this evening has managed to eat something.

I’m hot and tired and craving some fresh air.

The boys I work with are watching the last few minutes of the game. If it was any other day, I may <<bis>> a farewell to them, but I’m not French enough for that, so I reach out with my hand in their shoulder, and wish them a good evening.

As I walk over to the entrance doors, I throw a “salut, bon soirée” at the waitering staff. It hangs unrequited in the ether, their own minds elsewhere as they prepare to cash up 150 people and clear up the bar before curfew.

Outside, on the simmering summer pavement, I lift my phone from my bag, find my earphones buried deep and plug them into my ears. I know I can expect a tram in 15 minutes, so I can afford the 1km walk to that stop. As I walk away from the pub, a roar explodes. France has won their first Euro Cup group stage match. The excitement is palpable and enormous.

In my ears, my music is powerful, loud and consuming. I can ignore the occasional car that are now honking their hooters and flying the Tricoleur from their window. I can ignore the kids shouting in rapturous ecstasy. 30 seconds further up the road, another roar tumbles out from another pub- in this age of sport being streamed on the internet, it appears that this short delay creates a little vortex of crescendoing, perpetual joy.

Gratefully,I can now begin to unwind.

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June 19th. Season changes and Life cycles.

I made my way across the city yesterday morning after dropping the Drama at school.

It’s been 2 weeks since the weather truly turned warm enough to for the trees to laden their branches with leaves. Winter was hard, and spring cooler than other years.

But in these 2 weeks, the wild grasses have escaped the pathways and run amok like heathen children under a warm sun.
Already, in these 2 short weeks, the green is no longer as lush as I like, and a sense of heat fatigue lies in the crusty brown-tinged leaves.

I stop to take a photo of a cornflower, and as I step back, a bicycle swerves behind me, a mild curse escaping her lips. I apologise briefly.

Before I realise it, I’m approaching the Cathedral. As always, it’s 8:45 and the bells start to toll as I cross below her magnificent arches.

It dawns on me at this point that these walks, filled with musings and appreciation will soon come to an end.

My kids will soon enough both be at middle school. Earlier starts and a level of independence means I’m almost exempt from taking them to school. My own work days will start later and the likelihood of an early morning walk across the Cathedral Square won’t feature in my routine.

I have fully grown to appreciate this opportunity I have had over the last 3 years. I adore the ringing bells of the Cathedral. The early morning quietness before the rush of shops opening and tourists, the bustle of delivery trucks- it all seems to come with a level of peace.

Thanks hubby @anton_fat_boy_dup for bringing us here.

As I cross over to Place Kleber, I see an old woman sitting with her feet in the fountains. Another summer sight. In winter, these are covered over and at Christmas, the space is an ice rink and filled with Nordic Sapin 🌲.

Cycles and life changes. Do you see much of this in your own life? Is it easy enough to move through the phases?

And later this year- perhaps encourage me to take the early morning trip to the city centre, to remind myself of the passion and gratitude that i have for this space

To mark the occasion of Father’s Day and Midsummer I took this Sunday off today. We decided to host a picnic in the park for -what turned out to be- my circle of South African friends. Gosh, we really are a fantastic bunch: with our partners from across the world here we have a truly amazing group of people that we get to spend time with. If you’re in our group of friends- and you know you are – thank you for being everything you are to us.

We’re currently 2 stages in to the Euro Cup. Sport- football mostly- dominates my existence at work. I won’t lie- the heat over the last 2 weeks has caused my stress levels to increase. On the whole, I think I’m learning to deal with the social challenges that arise. My kids have battled adjusting to me being away from home, but as we’ve discovered with Thandi belle, routine is everything, and subtle adjustments make a big impact. I have little time for creativity across the board sadly, so I am now sticking to momentary Instagram writing – as you will have noticed above. I’m enjoying the outlet, I won’t lie.

Thandi has grown up in the 2 months she’s been here. Having her in the family has been a trip, with many happy moments and much learning. She’s truly a part of the family – trips to the pub and park, she has a BFF or two out in the fields, and is a welcome happy face at the end of the day at school or work.

Let me wrap this up and publish it in time to wish you a happy Midsummer or Midwinter down south who may look forward to a gradual lengthening of the day.

As I do so, have a Google search on the idea of Proust’s Madeleine and tell me- is there any type of food that evokes veritable five-sensory 8 page manuscripts of memories? Let me know, and I’ll see if I feel the same and I’ll do a collective piece of writing. (I’ll not achieve the genius of Proust, but I feel like I need a little stimulation and incentive!)

Sending stormy and appreciative rainy love,

G

Xx