dreams of summer

Living (wandering?) in the Southern hemisphere is a funny thing for my brain to wrap itself around.  The last few weeks have been filled with crisp fall days but I can't shake my excitement for Northern hemisphere summer. The moments before I fall asleep at night are filled with imaginings of Pimms cups, BBQ pizza, late afternoon tea, brisk swims, and gorgeous sunsets caught from the end of the garden.

pimms no. 5

bbq pizzas

summer roses

a surreal life

My life lately has taken on the feeling of a chapter out of 100 Years of Solitude: multiple generations of my family eating meals at long tables telling stories of my great grandparents, grandparents, and parents; dreams which feel like life; life which feels like dreams.  Add to all that my outing to see the Surreal Friends exhibition at Chichester's Pallant House Gallery and every thing has started to take on a sepia tinted fuzzy-ness. Surreal Friends focuses on three European women who fled Europe during World War II and met in of all places, Mexico.  Their work is influenced by the surrealist movement and is rich with magic filled details, straight out of the works of Hieronymus Bosch (that's a remnant of all those expensive Art History courses I took at the Dub, parents take note!).  I went with my mum/mom, and her best friend Judy. Watching them chatter in hushed voices in the galleries reminded me of a trip to the museum of Modern Art in San Salvador which I took with a one, Alexandra, a bit earlier this year.
Seeing the art and learning about the lives of these 'European Bitches,' as Frida Kahlo nicknamed them, was inspiring.  Even more so after Eva told me that if I found myself an apartment in Colonia Roma she might come join me to live in D.F. The serendipity of her comment being that Colonia Roma is where these three women made their home during the 40's.
Learning about these creative women standing around their kitchens, telling one another stories, finding inspiration in friendship, laughing about the absurdity of life, sharing their knowledge and encouraging one another to create art, all during a time when women were expected to be perfecting their Sunday roasts, gives me even more faith in the strength and determination of the fairer sex.  Though these days my dream kitchen in Colonia Roma has to be a virtual one, formed of brief emails, inspiring blogs, long winded chat sessions, and the occasional post card from my breath taking group of friends, I am grateful for what I have.
(image: Leonora Carrington, The House Opposite)

ahead of the curve

Still on coffee, the New York Times had an article today about London's coffee scene.  They had the smarts to mention my favorite drink...

'Though it’s recently been co-opted by chain stores, the “flat white” is also a symbol of serious coffee: it’s basically a cappuccino-size latte — flat and white — a style imported from Australia (some say New Zealand) when a wave of baristas emigrated from those countries. (Australians and New Zealanders are to espresso what Russians are to chess: they’re just better at it.)'

Which makes me giggle just a bit after my flat white blog entry.
On a similar note I finally began my coffee guide on nextstop.com.

vacation for the girl whose job is vacation

Images, top to bottom (St Peter and Paul, Godalming. Mirrors, Camden Market. The North Down Path, near Farncombe.)


I've been dreaming about being cold for months. Now I am cold and it kind of sucks. I do like getting all cosy and snuggly in my new hoody, and I like wearing socks, I like layering, and hiding beneath the blankets because my nose is cold, but the idea of the tropics all of a sudden seems appealing. Bring on sweaty knee pits, cheap cold beer, mozzies, gap year travelers, tuk-tuk drivers, and all that Asian craziness.
Honestly everyone thought I was nuts to go from SE Asia to England in November, but I love autumn. I like yellow and red leaves, crisp air, feeling like Christmas is around the corner. It has been incredible seeing my family, hugging my mom, eating fish pie at Judy and Jeremy's, meeting Isla, seeing Charlie and Eliot being parents, going for walks, seeing art and very hairy pregnant cows. I haven't drank this much tea in ages, nor ate this much toast or cheese. MMMMMM.

inspiration

I have been thinking a lot about inspiration over the last couple weeks, where it comes from, why we find certain things inspiring, and how to put all that inspiration to good use. My friend valeria has a cool blog, an online notebook of inspiration of sorts. I put the link to it on the sidebar for easy reference.
The nice thing about inspiration, for me at least, is that I find it in many places. Probably too many places, leading me to a kind of unfocused spazzed out enthusiasm where I end up feeling full of ideas of which I am not sure how to put to use. A frustrating and common feeling for me, which leaves me fiddling, but never feeling like I've accomplished much.
Somewhat inspired by Valeria, I feel like it is time to push this blog in a slightly different direction. Not to worry, stories of my flailing spanish and foible-filled adventures will still get billing, but I will also try to be a bit more of a travel resource as it were, actually give you all place names, and real information. It feels a bit daunting, but I am trying to have faith that I can do it.

To start...
Hands down most exciting place in London for me is the Borough Market (London Bridge tube stop). I spent this morning there in gastronomic paradise. I usually have to start at Monmouth Street for a cappuccino, where they tell you the name of the cow that made the milk you are drinking. After tasting their coffee and milk you understand what the big fuss about single origin and small producers is about. I will admit part of my love for Monmouth is the care and pride the take in what they do. Each of their coffees has a story to it, a story they want to share with you (check out their pdf of coffees on their website).
Monmouth is somehow affiliated with Neal's Yard cheeses, which if you are down with cheese is probably heaven. My brain kind of spazzes out everytime I end up the place, I can never remember the names of the cheeses I buy (I need to remember to write them down in one of my 1500 moleskines), and I always end up feeling like blowing the whole day's budget on cheese is a-ok. It is probably what most 15 year old boys feel like when in the presence of the cheerleading squad.
Another required stop on the tour is at Brindisa for a chorizo sandwich. Oh my god. If I were going to choose my last meal, this would be part of it. Grilled happy little roll, olive oil, rocket/ruccola/arugula (depending on your preferred idioma), some kind of roasted red pepper, chorizo. I would provide the required food porn of this, but I always end up eating the sandwich before taking a photo comes to mind.
Otherwise there is just a lot of shit to drool over and curse your lack of kitchen with, or you could just eat your way through the place. Market days are friday and saturday, with a sort of half assed showing on thursday, but if you are in town on a tuesday go anyways, it is worth it. I promise.

post-kastoori post-wedding pre-denmark

Things that make me supremely happy:
1. Kastoori tomato curry and the newly discovered cauliflower cream, even if Indian food makes me feel like I might end up with another case of montezuma's revenge.
2. Laughing about the same five quotes that David said while we were all sitting in the porch feeling like we might die from our hangovers.
3. Trying to get rid of the above mentioned hangover by throwing my u.p.i. battered body into the rough sea with my whole family, alysha, cousins, and annie, while getting stared at by english wet suit wearing boogie boarders.
4. Finally figuring out the London bus system.
5. Buying a ticket to visit Andreas and Valeria in Denmark.
6. Eating toast with marmalade for nine days straight.
7. The fact that Eliot is now officially, 'in the family.'

beer, alysha, annie, and the dueling macs

Soooooo.... life changes fast when you are Gemma. I swear last week I was in Mexico, wait last week I was in Mexico, and now I am in the Old House, abusing the wifi with Annie and Alysha attempting to get drunk before purchasing plane tickets to random countries in Europe. It's good to be back with native english speakers laughing about the poor state of the American Dollar.