from profound to ridiculous

Thursday, July 12, 2012

Notes from the front

It once seemed as though nothing could stop me from blogging this very personal kind of ‘round robin’ at least once a month. Would have been boring, I suppose; but to write nothing for seven months is perhaps also somewhat over the top. Mind you, I have the excuse of having been away from my computer for almost three months.

I got together with many of you, with my family and friends, and we had at least that giggle, or even a beer, or a glass of the old house white, a tinto de verano or a mineral water. Some of us even managed to do what people generally do when they gather to enjoy each other’s company: eat (and drink, of course). I even found the very best Hamburger place on this planet: ART&BURGER in Madrid, hidden away from the main stream in every sense of the word in Redondilla, 7 (T: 91 364 5934) where Charo Abadia cooks up an affordable storm. Hi Charo, may as well do a bit of the old publicity. Your place deserves it.

Didn’t have as much time as I would have liked in Madrid because the Iberia ‘marketing’ prices had a cheap one for, let’s say, Thursday this week, but not for Wednesday next. Have to do something about that next year if I can.

It’s such a very schizoid thing, travelling from home to home to home, and eventually just wanting to get back home. When I arrive in Madrid, even at the T4, then driving all the old romantic familiar roads (the M30, M40 and M50 - well, my friends, you who live in Madrid know exactly what I am talking about – hahaha) I say to myself, “Good. I’m home.” The only discoveries I made are places I never took the time to walk along or linger in. Nice, that lingering bit.

Madrid, T4

Then I fly to London. Same thing happens. They may have a new T5, but once I get on that train and pull in at Paddington Station, oh boy, I’m ecstatic. I’m home. It’s always a treat to see my son waving from the station lobby at the end (or the beginning?) of that long platform and taking over.

London, Archway

In both cases it’s a little strange that I no longer have a house or a flat. An address. A place that’s ‘mine’. Not sad, just odd. Simply because I always did have one and now I don’t. And, unlike Madrid, where for some time before leaving I made heavy use of my ‘old-age bus pass’, I remember London only by car. I know how to get where by car. Now I discover my old home town by bus, metro and the old feet. Tremendous. Love it! Besides, can you believe that in my old Muswell Hill (now much more ‘in’ than when we lived there, of course) my friend Nina had to pay six Pounds Sterling (SIX!!!) for only two hours of parking in the street? It’s now a month later and I still can’t get over that. But transport in London (where they don’t give me a ‘freedom pass’ because I don’t have a fiscal presence there any longer) is outrageously expensive and I must have spent close to 400 Pounds just on buses, tube fares, trains and the very occasional taxi in the two months I was there and moved around. That’s a loaddadough. When I think of my kids who have to make allowances for that extortion every month… the mind boggles, and I wish I were rich. Can’t feel sorry for most of my friends ‘cause they’re over 60 and travel free of charge.

So, yes, I did have a wonderful time. It’s of course rather emotional to see my children (even if it can't be casual as in every other weekend or so) at least once a year and see those little ones growing. Every time I see them they are more beautiful – wink wink, nudge nudge. Whatever, I am seriously in love.

So, yes, I did have a wonderful time. I am so fortunate that I can stay in my friends’ lovely places as a pampered guest, that my niece came for a good week from Finland – hadn’t seen each other for 11 years. We counted. My other niece came from Germany for a long weekend – not exactly for me alone, but we managed to squeeze a day into that short stay AND she saw her new nieces. I don’t know about this ‘once or twice removed’ business. Let it be thirteen times removed (from what?) it’s still family and great to have and should be ‘watered’. From a party in Milton Keynes to a sunny pub lunch by the Thames in Oxfordshire - I glowed with the joy of it all.

In Hyde Park

So, yes, I did have a wonderful time. I ‘did’ London as a tourist and what a great city it is. Took, as always, thousands of pix, and now, sorting through them I live it all again. The Jubilee? Rained out, I’m afraid. Poor Queenie, they didn’t even organize a warm coat for a woman of 86 or a place with a chair and a roof (where she was supposed to sit originally she would have got very wet… you would have thought they would have thought of that, especially since the weatherforecast was available to all?). Anyway, we saw it all on the telly, didn’t we. And the final concert, amaaaaazing. All the performers where about Queenie’s age. What a lark, and what a turnout. It was actually quite moving to see so many ordinary Brits suffer all sorts of hardships just to be there and stand in rain, hail and snow for hours to get a glimpse.

Changing of the guard

My godson (my big brother’s son) was 50, so we celebrated that in Germany (another place where I feel like coming home, of course). Thank God that very Saturday – on the eve of his actual birthday – the German team at least won a game. But, tell me, how can my little godson suddenly be 50? He did that while I wasn’t looking. Now he has a daughter who is training to be a top female football player. Wow!

Which reminds me...

I finally ran out of time and flew back to MAD where I tried to bury my nose in the waters of the pool. Came to town only once - on the first day after the storm - to do some last-minute shopping and have my (almost) last Spanish beer. I can’t deal with 40º any longer and avoided the big bad town where I probably would have collapsed. We still managed to squeeze in one terrific dinner and a noisy, sunny, hot and tinto-de-verano lunch with much laughter and many hugs. You guys are incredible.

Now, back at the ranch, I am trying to order my life some. As I said, I am sorting photos, my work, enjoy being home, wanting to be with all of you, longing to see my two granddaughters from time to time, enjoying the Pacific and, last but by no means least, I am happy to be with Lucho again. I missed him.

Thank you life, I love you too.

Did I say ‘work’? Well, let’s see now: I have published two novels and one collection of poetry. I am writing more all the time, especially poetry, and have created a successful art blog, the HOUSEBOAT, http://houseboathouse.blogspot.com/ which gets quite a bit of attention and which I need to keep going, something I do happily.

So far, an awful lot of my poems have either been published or are to be published by mainly US poetry journals/publications: Burning Word, Pale Horse, Other Rooms, Toe Good, Requiem, Full of Crow, Poetry Breakfast, Barefoot Review, Poetry Quarterly, Verse Wisconsin… and many of these have actually taken more than one. Others are in the pipeline to be accepted or rejected (of course). I am wondering whether to tackle another novel.

What did I forget? Oh, yes, a bad joke and a good recipe. Let me see… we have

Anticuchos - Grilled Meat Skewers

Anticuchos are skewers consisting of small pieces of grilled meat marinated in lime juice, vinegar and spices like ají (Peruvian (yellow/orange) chili peppers), cumin and pepper. The most traditional and for locals most popular Anticuchos are made of beef heart (Anticuchos de Corazón), but often chicken, beef and fish is used.

Ingredients for the Marinade:

• 2 cloves of garlic, crushed

• ¼ cup of ají panca molido (sundried red ají paste – take chilli if you can’t get ají)

• ½ teaspoon of salt

• Pepper

• Cumin

• ¾ cup of vinegar

Combine all ingredients and set aside.

For the Anticuchos you’ll need:

• Oil

• Fresh yellow ají (chilli) – blended

• Skewers

Preparation:

Clean the heart and remove all fat, then cut it into 2 ½ to 3 cm slices (not too thick), place them into a medium-size bowl and pour the marinade over them. Leave at least 12 hours.

You usually use three pieces of marinated heart per scewer.

Heat grill (a real BBQ is ideal) and, once it’s very, very hot, put on the Anticuchos but don’t forget to brush them first with the mixture of blended fresh yellow ají and oil you have prepared. Serve hot.

Usually, here in Peru, they serve three or max. four scewers per person together with one boiled potato and a piece of choclo (that ginormous Peruvian corn which you probably won’t be able to get in Europe, so use sweetcorn). Consider adding a bit of the blended ají (or chilli) for those who enjoy their anticuchos ‘picante’.

If beef heart is not available, you can use filet steak (tenderloin) or even pork steak.

Causa Limeña

Summer in Lima is not the same without the traditional Causa. Apart from ceviche, there is no other food on a hot summer day more popular and refreshing than Causa. While there are hundreds of variations the traditional Causa Limeña is made of layers of cooked, mashed yellow potatoes* filled with a variety of vegetables (avocado, onions, choclo** and ají) and fish (tuna, shellfish) or chicken. Causa is usually served cold and garnished with black olives, hardboiled egg and perhaps some shrimps.

* just use normal mashed potatoes instead of Peruvian yellow ones

** ‘choclo’ is this huge Peruvian corn… use sweet corn instead

Ingredients:

• 1 kg (2.2 lb) yellow Peruvian potatoes (you can use normal, white potatoes too)

• ¼ cup of vegetable oil

• 2 limes (approximately ¼ cup of lime juice)

• Salt

• Pepper

• 1 teaspoon of fresh yellow ají (liquefied or ground)

• The grains of 1 cooked choclo (or normal sweet corn)

• Bits of soft, white cheese (Burgos for the Spaniard)

• 1 hard-boiled egg (sliced)

• 4 black olives without pips

• Some lettuce leaves

Salsa Criolla (Creole ‘sauce’):

• 2 medium onions (preferably red ones)

• 1 o 2 fresh yellow ajís (or chillis) without the seeds or veins, thinly sliced

• Juice of 2 limes or lemons

• Vegetable oil

• Finely chopped parsely

• Salt

• Pepper

Preparation:

Prepare potato puree. Let it get cold. Spice it with salt, White pepper, lime (lemon) juice, blended or ground ají (chilli) and oil – your call how much of each you add, however you like it.

After making largish round balls of the potato puree, flatten the top.

Put the flat-top potato balls onto a place and cover them with salsa criolla (creole ‘sauce’), and place on top of that a slice of a hard-boiled egg.

Decorate with lettuce leaves, olives, corn and soft cheese.

Salsa Criolla:

Slice the onion (preferably red onions) into very thin slices and leave them to soak in water, mix them well. Then drain them and leave them to dry.

When dry, season the onions with salt and pepper, add the lime (lemon) juice, ají (chilli), parsley or cilantro and a shot of oil. Mix well.

You want Causa with tuna…

…instead of using the salsa creolla? (You can use both, of course.) Mix the following ingredients and put it all on top of your mashed potato flat-top (you can also add mayo and a finely chopped hard-boiled egg instead of that slice in the alternative recipe):

• 1 cup of tuna

• lime juice (or lemon)

• Salt

• Pepper

• 1 small (red) onion, finely diced

Happy? Causa is definitely a terrific summer dish. Oh, by the way, add a layer of avocado. Yum.

Now for the bad joke:

At dawn the telephone rings, "Hello, Señor Rod? This is Ernesto, the caretaker at your country house."

"Ah yes, Ernesto. What can I do for you? Is there a problem?"

"I am just calling to advise you, Señor Rod, your parrot, he is dead".

"My parrot? Dead? The one that won the International competition?"

"Si, Señor, he the one."

"Damn! That's a pity! I spent a small fortune on that bird. What did he die from?"

"From eating the rotten meat, Señor Rod."

"Rotten meat? Who the hell fed him rotten meat?"

"Nobody, Señor. He ate the meat of the dead horse."

"Dead horse? What dead horse?"

"The thoroughbred, Señor Rod."

"My prize thoroughbred is dead?"

"Yes, Senor Rod, he died from all that work pulling the water cart."

"Are you insane? What water cart?"

"The one we used to put out the fire, Señor."

"Good Lord! What fire are you talking about, man?"

"The one at your house, Senor! A candle fell and the curtains caught fire."

"What the hell? Are you saying that my mansion is destroyed because of a candle?!"

"Si, Señor Rod."

"But there's electricity at the house! What was the candle for?"

"For the funeral, Senor Rod."

"WHAT BLOODY FUNERAL??!!"

"Your wife's, Senor Rod". She showed up very late one night and I thought she was a thief, so I hit her with your new Ping G15 204g titanium head golf club with the TFC 149D graphite shaft."

SILENCE.

LOOONG SILENCE.

VERY LONG SILENCE.

"Ernesto, if you broke that driver, you're in deep shit."

Well, yes, they don’t come much worse [grin].

Here in Peru plus ça change, plus c’est la meme chose, I mean, we still give the big mining companies more support than the little guys who fear for their land, their water, their way of life (I’m sure a middle ground could be trodden, but there seems to be no memory of ever having considered the native Peruvians seriously so the powers that be don’t quite know what to do about the bitter anger and the frustration the natives – for example in Cajamarca – show in the face of yet another ‘tank’ = mining company plus government riding rough-shot over their objections. Of course Peru must grow and in order to grow it needs to have the mining companies investing in extracting the ores, but it seems to me that just eying the money is not good enough. Any country’s government ought to look out for the well-being of all its people, and that’s not always just a question of procuring the money at any price to help improve the macro-economic picture, money which doesn’t even seem to truly trickle down to those who need it most.

In the meantime Promotions Peru launched a new tourist video to attract foreign travelers. I am not sure where they’ll be showing this. For the moment it’s only in Spanish. Have a look, for those who understand the lingo, tell me what you think, my marketing friends.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fCYS8VBjF0s

Until next time, when I'll probably tell you some stuff in more detail. Hope it’ll be sooner than in seven months.

The roofs of Plaza Salesa

One of the reasons why I love Madrid

Somewhere in Chueca

Mayday in Trafalgar Square

Chinatown near Leicester Square

Chinatown near Leiester Square

Eros in Picadilly Cirfcus

North London, just outside of Kenwood

Spring in Kenwood

Crisis in Kenwood

Spring in Kenwood

Total self-onfidence in Kenwood

Spring in Kenwood

Tourism in London - the London Eye

At the back of Waterloo Station

Tourism in London - Buckingham Palace

Thursday, January 12, 2012

About trust, new ventures, the end of the world – stuff like that

Hello from Peru. Again. I can’t believe I’ve been here since August 2009 and that’s more or less how long I’ve been sharing my life with you via this blog. And this is 2012. Supposedly a very important year for us all. For those of you who are into numerology or simply enjoy numbers and coincidences, I am beginning to write my new post on 11.12.2012 at 11.12. Honest, guv. Just have to trust me.

Which brings me to something I’ve been thinking about a lot just recently. You see, in Europe – and more so in the United States of A – we have become accustomed to not only having rules and regulations but, on the whole, following them. This hasn’t been achieved because we are such wonderful and civilized people, but because of the stick and the carrot. Mostly the stick, though, in the form of fines, driving license points and other measures. We all know how it happened. ‘Clunk-click, every trip’ and, ok, so those TV ads (still familiar to most of people in the UK of my age and somewhat younger) did their bit, but what really did it was a policeman with a big ticket book. Oh, yes, and then that ticket was followed up. You couldn’t just pocket it and forget about it. Someone would soon give you shit. And, so, bit by bit new habits formed, mostly thought up by people who wanted to look good, but also by some honestly concerned for the welfare of humanity.

In Peru – and I gather it’s the same everywhere in Latin America – we have apparently (I am learning!) a lot of rules and regulations, but nobody really gives a damn. You can even buy your driving license. No big deal. Out there, on the roads, it’s Darwin’s law. Survival of the fittest. That’s why I decided I’d not drive in Lima. No way. Which also means that my driving license per se has expired in every other country because they wanted me to take a medical every year from 70 onwards and I just wasn’t in Spain, for example, at the right time to do this. But this is a completely different subject matter and deserves a chapter all to itself. Do you remember how much you looked forward to finally having your license and driving a car? And do you remember the sense of freedom when you finally did? And your absolute certainty that you were immortal? Well, imagine how it must feel to be back to your own two feet after having had this extension called a car for over 50 years. Strange one, that.

Anyway, what I was going to talk about was trust. So… yes, Lima’s jungle. Here everyone does more or less what they can get away with. Scary. I am now taking taxis – almost exclusively. They are the public transport in Lima unless you want to squeeze into a combi or a microbus. I’ll see whether I can take some pictures of them. We have a car, the doctor drives exceedingly well (swearing under his breath however well brung-up he is) but it’s his, really. For me it’s too posh, too shiny and too big. If I were to drive here ever, I’d need a Hummer with a machine gun strapped to the top deck and I’d probably die either of stress or of fury (I am into justice, you see, and thinking of the other traffic participants). So, every day, I (here we go) TRUST any odd driver with my life. I trust that the car won’t fall apart under me. I trust that he’s one of the survivors, I trust he won’t suddenly be obsessed by strange urges as in ‘road rage’, trust that he doesn’t drive me somewhere lonely and tries to steal my bag, my credit cards and perhaps my virtue, and so on.

The other day – in a taxi – I idly began to think about the whole issue of trust and that, in fact, we live by it every day. We trust that the pilot isn’t drunk; that the maintenance crew have been paid well and have checked out the plane to their satisfaction; that the online bookshop or e-Bay or whoever will actually go through with a transaction for which we have paid already and not take more money out of our credit card than the cost of the transaction; we trust the doctor who is about to cut us; we trust our elected ‘servants’ that they don’t screw up too much (since they are only administrators of a system that’s run by the big guys); and that nobody put poison in the yogurt in protest against the fact that it’s no longer made from milk. The list is daily, hourly, endless.

The whole deal is rather precarious, if you think about it. It only works as long as (almost) everyone is playing by the written and unwritten rules. When we stop running through the well-designed maze, lifting our heads and sniff the air ‘outside’ we may get tempted to put spanners in various works. Scary.

It could all be scary, really, except for the fact that we can’t even imagine it. We’ve been in it too long. And from time to time we take another route in the maze and call it an ‘adventure’ or a ‘new venture’. That’s what the doctor and I are doing right now. If all goes well we may soon (well…) be rainforest dwellers and rancheros. We had a dream when we came to Peru, and there are indications that it will now become a reality. The land we are buying is at 700 m above sea level not quite the hot, dense, sweaty jungle area where swarms of giant mossies ambush you, and the alligators can’t wait to nibble your foot. It’s called la ceja de la selva (the eybrow of the jungle) and is a little kínder at that height. Our place is by a huge lake. The doctor is going to learn about reforesting and ranching and… it’s really very exciting and yet another new beginning. I have absolutely no time to get old or do other silly stuff like that. So, thoughts can become things. We had a dream.

Ever since those Mayan calendars became common knowledge (some of us knew about them for many, many years) they, whoever ‘they’ are, found a new way to keep us happily scared. Once upon a time it was between either the Catholics or the Protestants, then it usually was ‘the Hun’. Then the Cold War came to the rescue. Oh, those bad Communists who would eat us all alive and send us to the Gulags. When the Soviet Union fell apart – as it had to – wow, we had 9/11 and what a tragedy it was indeed, but now we could start with the War on Terror. One terrorist behind every door and they all have all bombs strapped to themselves. TV made sure we all believed, and we gave up even more power to the ‘authorities’ to keep us detained without a warrant, kill us with robot planes, undress us going through airport scanners, enter our e-mails and cell phones… and in order to be safe, we stay in the maze, don’t even look.

Now, with the Mayan so-called prophecy all over the place, Hollywood had (and still has) a field day. The end of the world on the big and the ever bigger small screen is now a daily occurrence. Be afraid, be very afraid. Remember the snake in 'The Jungle Book'? ‘Trusssst me…’

I just don’t buy it. I’ve been an awkward kid, a rebellious teenager, an odd-ball woman and now I am an old woman who just won’t do what she’s supposed to. You know something? If thoughts become things, the power of our collective consciousness (the collective unconscious transformed) is awesome (and this time I use the word ‘awesome’ deliberately). Just read your Jung. Carl Gustav. That one. Oh, yes, also take a peek at 'Crowds and Power' by Elias Canetti. And if our collective consciousness is added to by so many young people (all over the world) who ‘are sick to death of it all and won’t take it any more’ (remember the film?) they will make a huge difference to the maze. It looks to me as though new generations everywhere are stretching their necks to look over the walls of the maze and are beginning to get the whole shebang to tilt a bit... a bit more… and suddenly we’ll have a critical mass. They are not afraid. They are fed up.

Then there’s the other amazing thing (not growing on my dung heap this wisdom, but investigated by people much cleverer than I am) that virtually all prophecies have two outcomes – a positive and a negative one. That’s why the doubters always say, the whole prophecy stuff is obviously nonsense. But, now here’s the twist: if we are making our own past present and future, and there is a considerable shift in the general consciousness, we are actually pulling ourselves out of the bog by our own hair - just as foreseen and just as one Freiherr von Münchhausen (the lying baron), written by Gottfried August Bürger, once did (or so he would have us believe). Makes sense? The film based on the book was directed by Terry Gilliam, ex Monty Python. Of course.

I leave you shaking your heads and sighing, perhaps smiling about my silliness. But I would love to see ‘The End of the World’ according to Monty Python. Here are a couple of quotes from the film:

Reality? Your ‘reality’, Sir, is lies and balderdash, and I'm delighted to say that I have no grasp of it whatsoever.
And that was only one of the many occasions on which I met my death, an experience which I never hesitate strongly to recommend.
Trust me, Madam. Your underwear is in good hands.

I nearly forgot, I owe you a recipe. Let’s make it something for the cold:

CHUPE VERDE: a really terrific winter soup

Ingredients:

2 lb (1 k) yellow potatoes, peeled and cut in ½ in (1 cm) slices*
2 lb (1 k) white potatoes, peeled and cut in ½ in (1 cm) slices
1 cup corn kernels
1 cup fava beans (optional)
½ cup green onion, chopped
4 garlic cloves, chopped
1 ají amarillo fresco / fresh yellow ají, seeded and deveined
1 cup fresh farmers cheese (feta, ricotta)
1 cube chicken bouillon
8 eggs
1 cup milk
Salt
2 tablespoons of: black mint, orégano, parsley, mint
½ cup fresh farmers cheese (feta – ricotta) chopped
1 ají mirasol / sundried yellow aji (chili) , roasted in a skillet and finely

Preparation:

Place 8 cups water, potatoes, corn, fava beans, green onion, garlic, ají, bouillon, and crumbled cheese. Bring water to a boil. Cook until yellow potato falls apart and white potato is cooked. Lower heat. Drop eggs one by one, carefully, and allow them to cook. Optional: Replace 8 eggs for 3 slightly beaten eggs and pour them slowly to boiling soup. Add herbs and milk.

Serve hot. Serve with chopped cheese and chopped sundried yellow aji.

*I am sure you can make it without yellow potatoes, but they do ‘behave’ and taste different to the white ones. There are enough Peruvians everywhere now for Peruvian shops to have sprung up. Try them.

The pix today are taken by the doctor himself when he did a recce of our new 102 hectares of rainforest in the middle of Peru: