spring: hopes eternal

it wasn't quite a 'zip' and we were in chch. 32 hours is a lot of airconditioning, a lot of special meals, and quite a few security checks of varying annoyance. you've all met them before. they're a special breed, a special personality type- incapable of humour or compassion. they like to ask stupid questions. they try to make your life a misery. while being interrogated by the US border control freak i made the mistake of questioning their system (the only border control in the world that requires finger-prints and retina photos even if you're only in transit), to which he replied 'is there a problem?', his finger hovering over the 'special button' no doubt...
and then we arrived in auckland, aotearoa new zealand. we had to clear security again (it's a trend) but the security team say 'how's it going, love?' and 'oh, here's a lady who likes her jewellery' when i set of the metal detector. the customs people ask questions but then reply 'oh, how lovely' and finally, one man welcomed me home. after 32 hours of travel it was enough to nearly make me cry.
so, that's what we're up to. we're in the business of making ourselves at home, becoming kiwis (again): signing up. we've found most things to be incredibly easy- certainly efficient and every person we've spoken to (in the bureaucracy world) was really friendly.
and it's spring. it's not the semi tropical spring that my mind chose to remember (you know, balmy, windless days in shorts and t-shirts) oh no. it's more like end of winter rather than spring. but it's equally sweet. we flew in to chch as the sun was popping up over the horizon painting the landscape a golden hue. the mountians and hills from the kaikoura ranges to the southern alps were snow capped. the parks and gardens are filled with all the tender new shoots, the sweet perfumes of blossoms and bulbs bursting out as each day warms a little more. the light seems pure, adds a slightly innocent quality;
everything is filled with the promise of things to come.

and that, dear friends, is where the life of the two nomads comes to an end. we've unpacked our backpacks and put them in the garage. oh, no doubt there will be other travels, other adventures, but for us now- well, we're hardly nomads. we've unpacked. i'm quite happy to have drawers and a wardrobe. we're preparing ourselves for the next adventure, an adventure of a different kind.
in a way we've escaped. the wanderlust will always be there, i still long to look at madagascar, africa, maybe one day the silk route, a road trip in the US, return to india....
but we've escaped.
we're making something else now: we've established the rara republic, population: 2 1/2. you're more than welcome to join us there- we don't do security checks or border control.

so: escape to the rara republic (www.rararepublic.blogspot.com - new address) you know you want to

xx

only 46kg each?

it's this sort of challenge they need to make into a reality tv show. forget decorating houses, or keeping people indoors for weeks on end: packing.
and the reality has arrived that in fact, this morning, i have to pull my finger out and start putting stuff into bags. i'm going to start any minute now. i'll just do this.

zip!

ok, that wasn't the sound of me shutting one of my superbly packed pieces of luggage. but it is how quickly we will be turned upside down. a mere 32 hours after leaving paris (tomorrow) we will put our tiny toes onto new soil.

we've both decided that to continue the blog in the same vein- as nomads, wouldn't be quite right; so we're going to make a new one.
thank you for visiting us here, i've enjoyed writing. i hope you've enjoyed the trip. the next trip, well it's gonna be on a whole different plane....

new address will be posted here shortly
xxxxx
b&p&sparkle

cubed

we don't even have the chance to say 'rust in peace' to our dear friend, maggie. no body is interested in repairing a peugoet 205. they're not even interested in breaking it into little parts.
pascal was issued a certificate of destruction.
the car was sent off to be made into a cube.

but, positively, that little cube will be recycled and made into something else.

so if you see a wee streek of green wave somewhere in your car you know that somewhere inside is a previously loved 205.


ps, trip back to paris in new renault clio was pretty ordinary, even with buttons and whirlygigs.

rolling without electricity

so, many of you will already have heard a little of the story of maggie the peugoet and her alternator problems. some of you may have, in fact, helped push start maggie when the hill wasn t good enough (merci! thank you!)..... there comes a day when a hammer doesn t suffice any longer for repairing the alternator and the car starts lacking in electricity. we ve already disconnected the stereo (oh my word?!), then we pulled the fuse that connects the heater/blinkers/other miscallaneous dashboard lights&systems; we don t drive at night, but with days and days of continuous rain (biblical, yes) we ve been obliged from time to time to use the windscreen-wipers and that, dear friends, has been the demise of our wee maggie.
bleeding weather.
all of a sudden, on the road into la pommeraie (where pascal s dad lives) the car starts farting, miss-firing and generally running like a misbehaved cow. we lean forward in the seat, pascal does his damndest to drive like a rally driver, and we make it into town. yah!!
later the next day the boys (dad and son) examine motor, tap again with hammer, remove battery, re-install battery and weyhey! we have lights! we have action! maggie rolls again with electrical accessories!!!! woohoo! we drive into town to get petrol and bugger me, whatever it was that made it all work fell off and now we re back to zero. but with a full tank of gas.

but all is not lost! don t worry, we have insurance! check this out: do you remember the beginning of the hammer and roadside repairs story where rescue mechanic dude turns up in the middle of the night and fixes car? well, that was cos we ve got insurance that gives us emergency assistance. well, pascal just rang them and told them our story (complete and unabridged) and they said not to worry, they'll give us a rental car to get back to paris!!!! (for future reference the company is agf and they are lovely)

so, this may well be farewell maggie, and thank you for the otherwise troublefree and happy 18000km that you have given us through france, england, switzerland and corsica. may you find somewhere shady and with a downhill angle to park up for the rest of your days
xx
b
ps: for sale (or free to good home) one blue/green/white limited edition peugeot 205 junior (but with grown up attitude) in nearly new condition. never rolled, raced nor ralleyed. needs a little TLC.

ninja

sparkle

i was supposed to be having a snooze, but i'm as excited as a 7 year old on christmas eve.
here is a picture of our little wonder, active as crazy, dancing to i don't know what rhythm and bustin out ninja moves. aiie, 2 very happy grown ups made.

we hit the road on our last tour de france tomorrow, direction nancy (and beyond) to say our 'a bientot's to our french family and friends. slowly slowly. with luck the weather will pick up and make our peasant campsites a little more pleasant. this month in paris has flown past, and now we're nearly midway through august; 3 weeks till the big flight...

my year in france. wow, equally quick. but what a treat! i've become at least one half french.
xx

knitting in foreign languages

those of you that know me will have heard me prattle on, on probably more than one occasion, about being self-sufficient. being self-sufficient isn't just about having the neat parcel of land, its about having the skills and the knowledge of how to produce the stuff you need. veges, fruit, wine, cheese, energy, shoes, textiles, holidays. (ok, so maybe that last one isn't on the Big List of all self-sufficient types, but it is one of my concerns). you'll note the second to last thing is textiles and it is on this little adventure that i have most recently embarked.
knitting.
years ago, whilst living on my little (rented) coupla acre patch, i had a brown sheep which i called socks. the idea being that i would let my sheep live in relative liberty (in its paddock) unharassed, with all the grass he fancied, and in return i would shear it, weave its wool and make socks (and other woolley items). hence its name. but the wee free loading bastard couldn't see a good thing for all the wool in his eyes and took his liberty literally and ran away. so i never got round to mastering the art of knitting.
and now, i'm in france, pregnant, with a little bit of time on my hands. what better time to take up knitting! except of course my book on knitting recipes is written in french. oh, it's not all that hard, you say. well i beg to differ. my knitting lady has buggered off on holiday (see earlier blog) before i had the chance to ask her what the fork... and now, 2 rows into my first garment, i'm stuck.
the question is this: the instructions ask that i add 6 stitches to either end every 2 rows. (or something very similar). ok, i can do it at one end, but what about the other? its physically impossible!!!
please help! advice, all of it, in any language, will be appreciated. otherwise our poor child is doomed to wear poorly knitted rectangles and squares.
xx
b

babelfish

check this out: i've installed a translator. simple to use, tragically difficult to understand afterwards. it is worth learning another language simply to have the chance to giggle at the rubbish translations! in fact, it's not too different to how i speak foreign....
enjoy!!

mes amis: regardez ça, j'ai telecharger un traducteur. c'est facile a utiliser (clic sur ton drappeau et puis sur le poisson) , mais tragiquement, c'est tres dificile a comprendre apres... je suis sûr que ça va t'amuser entretemps... profites!!!

and i'm not going to bother trying to so spanish/german/portugese/russian...

xxxx
b

ओ marche

what an ace time of year to be pregnant! visits to the local market (yah! they've not all buggered off on holiday!!) we can procure seasonally fresh and local fruit and veges. oh yes. strawberries, mmmmmmmm, raspberries, mmmmm nectarines, melons, lettuce-type items, fresh herbs, artichokes, 20 different types of tomatoes, eggplant, courgettes. wednesdays and saturdays two greedy little piglets buy up large. it's hard not to eat it all as soon as we get in the door.
tragically, monsieur le fromager is still noted by his absence. and signor and signora lovely italian goodies seem to have taken to the beach (or maybe they were part of that recent big mafia bust in italy- now that would be cool and i would forgive them).
but mostly i manage to keep my tastebuds satisfied buying locally.
except for jelly-beans (not available in france!), chips (small french fries not nearly as satisfying, but pascal cooks mean potato cubes that do the trick) chocolate and icecream. but mostly i need those every day so the wednesday/saturday thing would never suffice. (note to self, do not let children read this blog).
and as luck would have it, the previously mentioned greedy little pigs will be having a second go at the same season on arriving in nz. more strawberries!!!!!
xxx
b

meet rex:

i've done it. i've bought a suitcase on wheels. it is black, it has several nifty pockets with zips. it has various handles, including one that pulls out so you can tow it behind you like it's your pet luggage. it has wheels.
but don't abandon me here folks! i'm sure there are other nomads in the world with suitcases on wheels. i'm sure the mongolians would have them if they had smooth surfaces to tow them on. likewise the aboriginal australians.
the reality is that we have a luggage allowance of 2x23kg each and one carry on bag. that's a lot of luggage. but we have a lot of stuff. a lot of stuff. and being firmly in the pregnant department i can ask for a special seat on the plane, but i can't carry my luggage. i need those wheels godamnit! i also need to come up with a cunning plan to magically make my 20kg piece of hand-luggage-with-wheels (he's called rex, and he is house-trained) look like it's only 5kg.
any suggestions?

cyclists on the champs elysee

et voilà, le tour de france arrive à paris.
(isn't that bruce willis?)

le tour de france

the country's obsessed with it: some 3500km of hard bicycle slog. and a yellow shirt. and also, the lesser well known spotted shirt. (the white with red spotted shirt is awarded to the bloke who does the best in the mountains). this year's race started with all sorts of pomp and ceremony in london before it traversed la manche (or the english channel, depending on what side of it you are) and headed for the hills. up and down. i don't know how they do it- especially being as we've been up and down quite a few of them in our non spotted shirt winning peugeot. oh, now here's the crazy bit: this week the dude who had the yellow shirt, a danish bloke, was kicked out for failing to do a blood test at the appropriate moment (and then making up a big story about where he was as opposed to where he actually was...) and so he lost the yellow shirt to a spanish guy. now spanish guy isn't so good at the time trials (different type of race they do on the flat bits to keep the punters interested) and today was nearly beaten by an australian. nearly. so, (you can exhale) he retains the yellow shirt. pascal spends whole afternoons watching the race. it is a little addictive- if only to see what the next drama/accident will be.
tomorrow is the final day and the cyclists will be zooming in to paris, up the champs elysee. so guess where we'll be going? oh, i'm very excited.
we'll be off on our tour de france soon. might as well being as paris will be shut.
xx
b

fromage

for a reason i haven't yet manage to fathom, the whole of paris goes on holiday for the month of august. the pharmacist goes on holiday and closes his shop. the cafe owner goes on holiday and closes the cafe. having nowhere to get the coffee in the morning the boutique owner closes shop and buggers off as well. the boulangerie, seeing its clientele reduced drastically exchanges the patisserie flour for beachside sand, on holiday..... the market stalls stop. the metro is reduced. even my knitting lady at the local wool shop has bought the ticket. the city goes on holiday.
for the 3 remaining parisians i imagine that life is a bit of a misery dealing with tourists and the city heat. so the mayor of paris makes little gifts available to soften the edges of this hardship. like paris plage. importing thousands of tonnes of sand and dumping it on the seine banks, putting in potted palms and little umbrellas, the beach comes to paris.
and, like free parking. yes, for the month of august residential street car parking in our district is free.
but, this is august. not july. and for some reason the cheese vendors seem to have packed up shop and gone to the hills early. we're lucky enough to have 2 markets nearby that alternate days where we do a lot of our shopping. the markets are lively, with the vendors competing for the euro in your pocket yelling "un euro, un euro, un euro" and then something else that's probably enticing you to buy from them. but not the cheeseman. oh no. monsieur le fromager is noticibly absent. no wafty cheese smells invading tender nostrils at these markets. so what's the alternative: the supermarket? oh, i hear you saying: what's a pregnant woman doing taking such an interest in cheese... we're in france!!! there's no such thing as 'tasty cheese'!!!! (all cheese here is tasty) but, ventures into the supermarket to search the alternative expose that really, there aren't any. what am i supposed to limit myself to la vache qui rit? (little plastic cheese triangles, and anyway, i have a firend who worked at the factory who says its made from camembert that fell on the floor). seriously. if there really was such an issue with cheese the french nation would cease to exist. obviously, i'm avoiding all super manky, stinky, mouldy cheeses. and some cheeses do smell a bit 'ripe'.
so, august looms, next week its curious arrival has us all on the edge of our seat. the museums are already filling up while the little 'local' cafes close down. apart from the supermarket i don't know where else to shop. it will be a little strange to have parked up in a city that has gone on holiday and to be overwhelmed by loud tourists when they're nearly my least-favourite creatures. especially being as i'm neither parisien nor french.

updated

friends, we've changed our front page. we've added a few pictures (including pictures to older blog entries), edited our profile.

this, i guess, heralds the beginning of the new era.

i hope you'll follow us on this journey as well
xx
b

new journeys

many of you will be familiar with this type of picture; some of you won't.
this is a picture of our future, our child, 7 weeks old and the size of a bean (currently called harry, as in, haricot).
happy and lucky? totally elated, and equally scared...
and what a new beginning this is. is this the point when we say: that's it? hanging up the backpack?? folding up the map?? getting out the knitting needles!
well, maybe. but this is a completely different journey now, a journey into the real world of grown-up parenthood. oh, we've talked about it for a long time; but now it's there, now it's an actual moving, little soul, its heart beating...
so, steps along the path: pascal has applied for and been granted his visa for NZ- he has the rite to stay for 2 years and in between times apply for residancy;
we've bought the ticket home: one way ticket to chch. oh, i know it's not the first, and possibly not the last.
is it safe to talk about plans now? i mean, now we've actually got someone else who is making them for us!
i don't think that i'll be hanging up the backpack forever (got to use it to get home yet!); it's just going into storage- the journey that we're about to undertake needs a different type of backpack ;)

and yes, i will keep you posted
xxx
b&p &h

bastille day

14th of july, bastille day- french national holiday celebrating revolutions and be-headings and overthrowing of bourgeois establishment and giving the power to the people.
in fact it's not about that at all, so it seems.
there're are concerts all around the town on bastille eve, finishing with firework displays. on the day itself (the french don't refer to it as jour de bastille at all, they just call it 14th of july) there are huge military parades up the champs elysee, the president has a wee speach and then the french airforce puts on an aerial display. it's a great song and dance. it's a great show of excess wealth and opulence. it's not terribly ecologically sound. and despite all this i was awake very early yesterday morning, as excited as a 5 year old; camera at the ready- our apartment has a great view of the air parade.
the day finishes with a bal populaire (an outdoor ball) and lots of people all patriotic and happy. normally, feeling extra patriotic and super strong, a french dude will win today's yellow shirt in the tour de france; but today he was beaten by a german (and a coupla spaniards). oh well.

views

i'm sat in paris, our apartment overlooks pere lachaise cemetery. a little over to the left (say, between 10 and 11 o'clock) is montmartre and sacre coeur; further to the left is la defence and if you poke your head out the window you can see la tour eiffel. quite a view.
the sky is grey, not a menacing take-your-umbrella-out grey, but more like a (clouds:) "we can't be bothered to go to england so we'll just stay here" type grey; sun squeezing through every half hour or so just to fool the tourists who think they're having a summer holiday in paris. the view changes with the light. obviously the big things stay in the same place, but depending on the angle and brightness of the sun, and how deep or menacing the clouds are, the horizon can change drastically. for example, the other day, just before a huge and scary storm, la defence (paris' central business district) looked like a huddle of evil giants plotting to take over the city and sacre coeur, bathed in white light, was going to be our saviour. 10 minutes later with a quick cloud reshuffle sacre coeur started to look a little less sacred and la defence stood round looking a bit puzzled, wondering what they were doing there....
i like this little corner of paris. the cemetery is filled with large trees, (nourished by all those dead people i guess) and is rather soothing to the eye. it's on the edge of a rather large jewish/arab district (kid you not, i'm sure if you put the mayor of paris in charge of the gaza strip it'd all be fine) which means i can buy humous at every supermarket. it's not far from bastille and being as it's nearly bastille day that's not bad.
the horizon is an early geometry lesson: rectangular box apartments, triangular church spires, cranes and aerials.

the circle

so, how long has it been since i wrote? despite promises of updates, with photos. i wouldn't be at all surprised if you haven't nodded off or, that indeed, you've buggered off completely. oh you've never been far from my mind, dear reader, i compose blog entries in my head daily. but as for getting round to tapping the keys....
so, right. new leaf and all that. new leaf. and quite rightly too.

blog entry title is the circle. because that was life is all about really, completing/creating circles. but before i get into that i shall quickly (sorry) describe the last month (ooh, is it nearly 2? dreadful!)

voyage to prague was as expected but at the same time not quite. i fully expected there to be some sort of family ordeal (you've met my family? you understand! bless em) especially being as my bro was bringing along his girlfriend and therefore changing the whole family dynamics: new girl vs old girl? (please, no offence meant here) but in fact none of that occurred at all. the dramas were all from my bro! and once he got them out of his system everything was all good. beer (no pastis) and lots of food- shopping aside i think we all went home a coupla kilos heavier.

zip- prague-geneva-chamonix- lyon... pop in on some friends; zap- lyon- marseille les goudes, where we were very kindly lent a little holiday home by the sea to lounge about in for a coupla days, profiteering from all the sunshine and sea air before we went off to provence.

provence: lavender, olives, wine: my favourite consumables. an outdoor aromatherapy session in the nature- and oh the nature!!! an escaped garden. we camped a few days in the verdon gorge, a climbers' mecca, and slowly wandered a few trails while we were there. i say slowly not because we were unfit (oh no, 5 months at 2000m altitude makes you into wonderwoman when you're at sea level again! despite... g of tobacco and....l of wine per week) but because i had to stop every 20 metres to inspect some wee plant or other.

and then we went to corsica.

well, when i was a wee thing i read asterix in corsica (in fact i read most of the series- it's where i learnt my history of france) and was quite taken by it for some reason, deciding that some day, amongst the already growing list of places, i would go there. and, well, some years later, our little peugeot rolled off the ferry into the bright ajacio sunshine and we hit the corsican road. first destination was one of the islands most important archealogical sites: filetosa. first occupied by humans some 9000 years ago this impressive site is covered by carved menhirs (of the type that obelix would deliver) which more than resembled large penises. all this before lunch! and a good thing too. by midday it was unbearably hot- not even the Windows Open While Driving (WOWD) aircon was sufficient.... so we zoomed towards the coast and parked up, set up the tent and went to the beach!!!!
oh la la la la, la mediteranee!!! how beautiful. the beach!!! golden sand, azur sea and totally cloudless sky.
in actual fact this poses a large problem for your average lazy as all buggery freeloaders like ourselves. if left alone we'll quite happily get out of the tent at about 1030ish, smoke, drink coffee- 1130ish, bathroom activities and weyhey- we're ready for action at midday. midday, corsica: 30odd degrees. no time for hitting the beach or walking off into the hills. time for a siesta!!!
in an effort to combat this dilemna we discussed getting up early (like 9) but getting up that early requires consuming another meal and by the time you've gotten down to the boulangerie for a croissant and all that- well, the extra time is gone! even earlier you say? well, probably not a bad idea as they seem to sell out of croissants before 830!!!
(here's some mathematics for you: people on 2 week holiday are obliged to get up and hit the streets early- an hour and a half lounging in bed every morning over 14 days is a whole day lost!!! this is why we take month long holidays)
anyway, we never managed to figure out that dilemna in the whole time we were there. in fact the last day was the only day that saw us getting up early and that was because we were catching the ferry.
ok, sorry, getting side tracked.
corsica is quite rightly referred to as l'île de beauté (the island of beauty) and it swings gaily between ragged coastline, huge, dominant mountains and quaint little towns perched on the edge of them both. its incredibly rich and long history includes being dominated by, protected by/from, bought, sold and damn near discarded by every european power since the year dot. the language is closer to italian than french and i didn't see one single donkey the whole time i was there (which was the only real disappointment).
but i think it's best you just go there and see for yourself.
aiie corsica. it will remain close to my heart for the rest of my life.

so, back to the circle.
after corsica we went back to the alps to collect our belongings- (very wierd after feeling like i had closed that door). and despite slight emotional upheaval the alps were absolutely breath taking: green green soothingly green, carpeted in alpine flowers with bell-wearing cows, tourists and cyclists all over the shop. we followed former tour de france routes and could sense the pain in mounting the extremely high, thin aired summits. (we were travelling in a fully laden maggie after all)
and then down the other side, back through lyon, side step through haute-marne and circle almost complete: paris.
paris.
paris.........
well, i have a whole other blog entry coming on now. a proper explanation for the real meaning of the circle. it might be a whole novel's worth. and i will write it.
soon
i promise
xxxxx
b
oh, and of course- attach photos ;)

farewell mountains

from the mountains to the sea and back again in one weekend...
pascal and i droved the snaking trail down to annecy, caught the highspeed train to paris, then a high speed rental car to brittany to go to a wedding. the flat green countryside flew past, spring's beauty having been swept aside for the early summer. the wedding's reception was held in an incredible castle dating from (not sure of date) way back. the grounds, lush with rhododendrons of every hue and greeny galore, overlooked a pretty lake. all very romantic.
the last few days in the mountains didn't disappoint either: it snowed!!! would you believe it! while the rest of the country is basking in semi-tropical heat and peeling off clothing left and right my folks (who are visiting) were very happy to have had that extra 15kg of warm clothing in their luggage.
so, penultimately (we've left stuff stored in val so we'll have to go back), we decended the valley again, singing our farewell to the snow and marmottes and travelled down to the relatively flatlands (only 445m) to a crazy medievil town called annecy. and what a little gem. snuggled up beside a lake with a castle perched upon a hill, its little cobbled alleys and crystal clear canals make this town a pleasure to shop in.... (visiting with folks: dad and pascal do boys things- as in not shopping, while mum and i do the other.)
all pleasantly punctuated by french culture: the aperitif.
now french living isn't all just about berets, bicycles, garlic and kissing cheeks left and right. they're not only known for their culinary wonders like frogs legs and duck. it's all about how you take your meal. and with the right alcohol. an aperitif is usually some strong alcohol (like pernod) taken before your meal, and it's not unheard of to be invited somewhere purely for the aperitif. (usually taken with a snack). then of course it is essential that your meal (when you get round to it) is accompanied by the right wine. imperative.
anyway, that's part of the next lesson.
so we're off to chamonix tomorrow to pick up my bro and his girlfriend and then we're heading to prague for a family holdiday (more shopping and local cultural exchanges)
xxxxx
b

liberty

i've wiped my hands of it:
work.....
we are, once again, gainfully unemployed and soon to be homeless.
yippee!!!
the spring route beckons...
the next few weeks will be filled with plenty of to-ing and fro-ing. i'm going to chamonix tomorrow to see my folks while pascal stays behind to make the most of the snow before it melts.
and boy is it melting faster than you can even say melting snow!! the northern slopes of all the hills round here are turning green and are dotted with alpine flowers, smiling sweetly at the sun. we walked yesterday up a valley road and saw bouquetin (ibex- mountain goats) and marmuts (small furry hibernating rodent type things) nibbling at spring's grass. the air is heavy and sweet.
we were going to go skiing this morning but stayed in bed instead (bed is always better than sport); now with the almost subtropical temperatures it's only the morning skiing that's any good- by afternoon it's all soup.
so, no more tartiflette, raclette and other potato/cheese french alpine wonders. it's all salads and loveliness from now on!!!
xxx
b

new beginnings

my friends, you have followed me down almost every road i have travelled over the last year, but not the personal route.
some things have changed and so perhaps i need to change this blog too, the cleansing of our souls will be tomorrow and so the new story will begin after that
xxxxx
b

equinox....

From beginning to end the months have flown past in a fluffy white blur. Flashes of bright blue from an eager sky are almost the only contrast to the monochromatic landscape of dormant trees, rocks and snow. The days, and indeed the months, have moulded into one big pile and are now beginnning to defrost: Spring, that beautiful princess, goddess of promise, is on its way. Buds of willows swell, counting the days, ready to burst into leafery while tiny patches of grass, determined to be green, wait patiently for the snow's retreat. The sun, less eager to be elsewhere, loiters as it makes its daily journey, poking its rays into deeper, darker crevices every day.

Today i walked to and from work, a brisk 20 minutes, happy to have bright red gumboots, happy to have the sun on my face, happy to hear the little birds chirping their welcome song to the spring sunshine. Happy.

Last writing had me just about to escape from my plaster caste prison to the freedom of scratching and bathing and all sorts of other two-handed activities. In the meantime i have even tried skiing, would you believe! 14 years ago was the last time i was seen on skis heading downhill in a blur of colour, screaming. Not a lot changed in the interim, but for the engineering of skis which makes turning, stopping and not looking quite so idiotic a wee bit easier. Pascal and i stuck to the 'green runs' (nothing to do with bad meals in india) and mostly enjoyed ourselves: spring skiing: sun shining, trees wafting pine oil at your nostrils (yes, the french alps have trees growing in the middle of the piste... ) and easy snow. I enjoyed it so much (as in, didn't break anything) that i'm going to give it another go. Maybe even this season!

in the meantime i have had one of my travelling sisters, an equally not mad nomad, lacey, sharing our home with us. poor lacey, she came to europe on the promise of easy work and was fired the very next day. she's now lugging round a very serious amount of lovely boots/books clothing looking for a solution in a crazy world. (if you do see her by the roadside pick her up!! ) as always, i love being able to share things with my family and i really hope to see her (and you!!) soon.

Oh, i didn't tell you the sorry tale of poor wee maggy... parked up, minding her own business (in an avalanche zone- after one of the season's biggest dumps the local council erected signs in the carpark where she was parked forbidding access due to avalanche risk!!!) and some narrow minded connard decided to nick the car stereo. I wouldn't mind if a) the car looked decent in the first place and therefore looked like it had a decent car stereo; b) the car stereo actually functioned properly and c) they didn't bend the door frame right back, breaking the window and door in the process..... i have since bought a replacement door (it only cost 20% of the value of the car! Bargain!) only to discover that the peugeot people, bless 'em, developed a special thingo, that requires a special tool to remove and replace the door!

But, in the meantime, i have only 2 weeks left of work. No great shame really as i don't think i was cut out for the pressure of being a shop-keeper. I don't think the boss will be shedding too many tears over my departure either. Not wanting to mention the 'P' word (as in plan) because you know where that'll lead... other than towards the sea: corsica, croatia, tour of the former adriatic war zones... and finally back to aotearoa!!! Yah! But, not mentioning the 'p' word, i think it would be better to keep you updated rather than tell you in advance what we might/mightn't be doing....

Winter's battle finally over, the colourful caravan that is the collective of ski-bums, hippies, freaks and seasonaires, will begin following the melting snow's race downhill, descending the valley to make its merry way elsewhere.

and as usual, i hope to write more and put more piccies on here....
xxxx
b&p

boy, time flies when you're doing not a lot.
tomorrow the resin cast comes off my arm! it wasn't all that hard- well at least not for me: i imagine pascal has something else to say on the matter. needless to say he now faces semi-retirement from the world of dishes-washing for at least a few weeks!!

it's snowing out. the town has returned to its rather picturesque alpine village scenery. new people have arrived and so the busy part of the season starts.... february is rumoured to be more silly here than christmas. people come, people go, people spend lots of money. it's a very strange environment.

it's snowed a lot over the last 24 hours, i've watched mini-avalanches from the warmth of our apartment. it creates a lot of work for everyone, the snow: avalanche prevention on the high slopes (as in, they do controlled explosions to cause avalanches and to clear the slopes from any dangerous snow) snow clearing off the roads, footpaths and carparks.... craziness.
i spend very little time outdoors- even the bright sunny days only manage to warm to just above zero. i wonder how all the wild animals cope- where do they go?
bring on the spring i say!!!

ode to winter follies

the mountains stand proud, craggy, white against the sky's blue/black/grey. but sometimes they hide, cacooned in fluffiness.
the valleys in shade lie deep beneath frosty blankets that won't thaw till the equinox
the valleys with light shine, reflect the sun back, blind the inhabitants with the brilliance of the snow.

boys and girls, it's 2 hat cold out, thermals and special grippy boots. nothing less.

and here're the follies:
our poor naked bodies: hairless: we're not meant to be hanging out in alpine snowiness! we're tropical babies (ok, so maybe that's just me)
we're certainly not meant to be strapping things to our feet and descending said mountains at break-neck(wrist) speed.

dear readers, i broke my wrist snowboarding.
i didn't need helicoptering off the mountain, luckily.
i didn't suffer any amputations.
but i do have my arm in resin for a month.
i said a little more than just bugger. (it's amazing how easy it is to swear when everyone else around you is speaking another language: it's like your words float freely, harming no ears, transmitted directly to the god of accidents who takes it as a compliment of a job well done.)

so here's a list of things i can still do, easily with one hand:
drink.
um, hold on, i'm thinking.
oh, yeah: clean my teeth (although the toothpaste onto toothbrush thing is a bit hard. i have a technique now but whilst developing this technique one brush was lost to toilet...)
um, i think that's it!

and so everything else falls onto either the can-do-with-difficulties list or slips onto the need-assistance list.

winter sports eh?
as one of my wise friends told me we are definately meant to propped up under umbrellas on tropical beaches sipping coctails!


hope you lot are keeping safe and warm!!!
xxxxx
b