there was alpine skiing, a sport reserved for those who used their silver spoon to eat snow each winter. Those with private ski lodges, goggle tans and family trusts were at the front of every lift queue. While those slumming it in 3 star hotel accommodation, rental gear and borrowed parkas where found relegated to the back of each line.
Then, in the stealth of the night, along came snowboarding, entering the mountain through the back door. The battle had begun and all the elite had to protect themselves with was their well worn family set of silver spoons...
With this rivalry still causing death stares and calls of derogatory terms on the slopes, I am seriously questioning which equipment I will decide to pick up this season.
Of course I can’t wait to attach some skis to my legs, to get shushing down the slopes in my old friends. But I am sensing the need for a new challenge. Boarding, has never appealed to me before, but lately it has become a nagging thought at the back of my mind. Perhaps stemming from a need that has come out of some sad yearning for my surf board, to find an equal to that exhilarating feeling of being on a board that I have been missing for the last two years.
So what will I decide and what will I be walking away with at the end of the season? Some seriously well honed ski skills or a new bag of tricks from a season on a board?
Do I want to become one of those thug labelled boarders? Or do I actually like carrying my silver spoon around with me?
12.11.2009
Its Pow Pow Time Again!
With yet another stella ski season now in very near sight, I can truly say it has been a long and winding road throughout the long summer months to reach this ski season. The twists and turns of life seemed to find me yet again before my feet even had a chance to grace their presence on the stone pavements of resort. I don’t know what it is about me that attracts change to an already agreed upon arrangement when it comes to ski seasons, but yet again I have found myself rolling with the punches and adapting to unexpected changes.
I won’t bore you with the small detail; perhaps not even the general detail except to say that I applied to work in a specific chalet with a specific company, with a specific person and the only specific detail I will be arriving into resort with tomorrow is the company I will be working for.
So let me tell you about some of the details of my ski season coming up. As of tomorrow I will find myself living in the ski resort called Morzine, located in the Northern French Alps, in-between Geneva and Mont Blanc. The Chalet I will be working in is called Farmhouse La Desmeuniere. It is a beautiful 18th century farmhouse located at the base of the Morzine slate mines. It sleeps a maximum of 20 guests and I have been employed as the chalet chef for a well established small English company called ‘The Great Escape’. Darren and Sam, the owners of the company have a portfolio of 2 catered chalets and 4 apartments and have been based in Morzine for the last 10 years.
I will be working and living with a British girl called Sophie (that’s right another roommate called Sophie!). Sophie and I have been employed to run the chalet together and while I will do all the cooking, Sophie will ski host, clean and transfer guests. So it’s going to be a very busy 5 months with lots of work for Sophie and me to crack on with.
‘The Great Escape’ team this year consists of 4 girls! That’s right, No Boys! Girl power to the times of 4! Which is something poor Darren (our boss) is still coming to terms with. 4 single girls about to be unleashed in resort....oh dear!
The other chalet, ‘the Alpine Refuge’ will be run by no other than my old roommate from Vaujany...Sophie! Thats right, Sophie couldn’t resist another season with me on the slopes, so she applied and secured the chalet chef position in the company’s other catered chalet. She will be working with a British girl called Joanna who is well versed with the going on of life in resort as she has worked both a summer and winter season in Morzine before.
So with less than 24 hours before I arrive in resort tomorrow I am literally jumping out of my skin with excitement. A season of hard work, plenty of skiing and no doubt lots of fun to be had. I can’t wait for it to all unfold...
11.30.2009
Without a Home
Of late I have had this overwhelming feeling of being rootless; being without a base; a place to call home. And I have to say it’s not a comfortable feeling. Actually quite unsettling. Having now left my little Italian family and my home in Tuscany my whole being is yet again lost in the wonderful world of living out of a suitcase from one destination to the next.
In the weeks leading up to my farewells from Patrignone I had this ever present nagging need that I continued to ignore or face. And that is the need for a base or home here in Europe. With all of my being now feeling quite Europeanised, Australia has its clutches less and less around my heart. With little left to tie me with Australia, except family and friends the need to continue building a life here in Europe is becoming ever stronger. And for those Australians within the audience I can assure you I haven’t come to that conclusion lightly. Home is where the heart is...Right? But what if your affections are divided between two homes, thousands of miles apart? Welcome to my dilemma!
In recent weeks I have travelled from one wonderful destination to the next, From Italy to the French Riviera, to the French Alps, to Paris, to London, to Oxford, Bath, Devon, Worchester, back to London, Brighton, back to Devon and back to the French Riviera again. Yet the most definitive moment through all those amazing experiences was the moment I found myself leaving the hotel in London yet again having made connections with people who had changed my life for the better once again. As I left the hotel in London the concierge ironically said to me ‘have a safe journey home.’ Instantly I felt the blow of such a cruel statement at the very moment in my life when I was struggling with the lack of a home. It was taking all my energy to continue along my mission. Not one part of me wanted to be leaving London. I am so damn tired of moving, of being rootless, of not having a definitive idea of where home is that I almost collapsed on the floor in defeat as life enjoyed kicking the heels in! My energy for meeting new people and exploring new places is dwindling rapidly, and my instinctual need for a place to call home is growing ever stronger.
All I ask is for a place to rest my suitcase full of memories for a bit. A place to call my own. Where I can place all of my belongings, where I can have a pantry and fridge full of food, a cosy sofa, where I can organise my life, where I can have friends and neighbours and enjoy buying my fruit and veg from the local market each week. It’s not much to ask for is it? But let’s not despair; life has a way of sorting these kinds of problems out...Right? I hope so!
And it’s all in your best interests to encourage me along this path, because then of course you will all have a place to crash in Europe! A place to housesit when I decide to go off on another adventure! So my energies are now beginning to concentrate on making some valiant attempts to putting down some roots somewhere! It may not happen tomorrow, it may not happen next year...But I can assure you, I will make it happen! I will have my little apartment in a beautiful Italian or French picturesque port or century old little pad in a Tuscan hilltop Town someday soon!
In the weeks leading up to my farewells from Patrignone I had this ever present nagging need that I continued to ignore or face. And that is the need for a base or home here in Europe. With all of my being now feeling quite Europeanised, Australia has its clutches less and less around my heart. With little left to tie me with Australia, except family and friends the need to continue building a life here in Europe is becoming ever stronger. And for those Australians within the audience I can assure you I haven’t come to that conclusion lightly. Home is where the heart is...Right? But what if your affections are divided between two homes, thousands of miles apart? Welcome to my dilemma!
In recent weeks I have travelled from one wonderful destination to the next, From Italy to the French Riviera, to the French Alps, to Paris, to London, to Oxford, Bath, Devon, Worchester, back to London, Brighton, back to Devon and back to the French Riviera again. Yet the most definitive moment through all those amazing experiences was the moment I found myself leaving the hotel in London yet again having made connections with people who had changed my life for the better once again. As I left the hotel in London the concierge ironically said to me ‘have a safe journey home.’ Instantly I felt the blow of such a cruel statement at the very moment in my life when I was struggling with the lack of a home. It was taking all my energy to continue along my mission. Not one part of me wanted to be leaving London. I am so damn tired of moving, of being rootless, of not having a definitive idea of where home is that I almost collapsed on the floor in defeat as life enjoyed kicking the heels in! My energy for meeting new people and exploring new places is dwindling rapidly, and my instinctual need for a place to call home is growing ever stronger.
All I ask is for a place to rest my suitcase full of memories for a bit. A place to call my own. Where I can place all of my belongings, where I can have a pantry and fridge full of food, a cosy sofa, where I can organise my life, where I can have friends and neighbours and enjoy buying my fruit and veg from the local market each week. It’s not much to ask for is it? But let’s not despair; life has a way of sorting these kinds of problems out...Right? I hope so!
And it’s all in your best interests to encourage me along this path, because then of course you will all have a place to crash in Europe! A place to housesit when I decide to go off on another adventure! So my energies are now beginning to concentrate on making some valiant attempts to putting down some roots somewhere! It may not happen tomorrow, it may not happen next year...But I can assure you, I will make it happen! I will have my little apartment in a beautiful Italian or French picturesque port or century old little pad in a Tuscan hilltop Town someday soon!
Long Lost Family
Who knew I had so much family hidden away in little old Europe hey! In recent weeks I have met more family of the Parsons family tree branch variety than I would have every imagined. Here I was thinking my Great Uncle Reg and Great Auntie Margaret were living all the way in ye old England on their own when in reality they have more family surrounding them than they could reach down the street and poke a stick at!
My memories of Reg and Margaret Parsons (my English grandfathers’ brother) are of the hazy recollections of a child variety from when they visited down under some 15 years ago. So I was delighted to find that I had second and third cousins dotted all over the UK, and not one Great Aunt but two! As I found out my Grandfathers younger sister is also alive and kicking with her own children and grandchildren which I am still to meet.
I can’t tell you how nice it feels to know with a short plane flight I could be with family for Christmas and have family to help me understand my heritage even more. And that’s just the English side of my family tree. I’m a little scared to even ask about my Italian family tree branches which I know are lurking in Sicily!
'World Famous!'
We've all got the odd mate in London, friends in Geneva, people we could call on in the US, a couple of Frenchies I'd like to hang out with again, some Canadians who said I should come stay some time....
And you know what?...It sucks!
Some people might like the idea of having friends all over the world, and although I do enjoy it and embrace the opportunity to meet new people every day, a large part of me just wishes I could have my true friends right here, right now! I mean where are my friends I can call up on a whim and meet for drinks after work?
I don't want to know that I could go out for dinner with one of my friends for a few nights if I ever found myself in New York. I want to know that I could go to the pub with them right now! I don't want friends on the other side of the world, I want them on the other side of the street or at least in the same city!
There’s an endless list of positives to travelling, I am not denying those or even remotely dismissing them but obviously there are downsides to every positive and although lack of money, living out of a suitcase, constant moving, missing the special family events, the newborn cousins I haven’t met yet and lack of a home are all obvious negatives to my travelling lifestyle, the worst is definitely not having my true friends and family around me. The bestest of friends, the friends who really KNOW me, where I have come from and what I got up to in high school!
I get to meet all these amazing people, have incredible experiences together, form bonds with like minded people, spend time and energy getting to know them and then I have to bid them goodbye. I tell my story over and over again to these relative strangers in the hope of being able to form a connection and friendship which may last longer than the experience of the time but then the ride finishes and we go our separate ways and all I am left with is an endless list of friendships from times in my life instead of lifelong friends. And how am I left feeling....Alone!
The internet's obviously made it easier than ever to keep in touch with people you meet while travelling. All it takes is a couple of quick clicks, and few minutes of reading status updates, and you can tell what your friend from your 3 days in Cinque Terre is up to these days. The wonder of Skype has also made staying connected with friends and family free and easy as pie! So sure, we swap emails, look each other up on facebook, try to keep in touch....but we both know there's every chance we’ll never see each other again. And that sucks and is becoming incredibly tiring. Besides who wants to spend all their time in front of a computer screen on facebook or typing madly on stupid European keyboards just to stay in touch with ‘friends’. Am I not supposed to be TRAVELLING! And not just staring at a computer screen.
While it’s true that people are generally more open to meeting new people while travelling. The very act of getting from one place to the next, trying to decipher and speak a different language, or just the sheer act of living life in another country allows you to forge close friendships very quickly. But are they friendships worth holding onto for a lifetime? Unfortunately not always. Most of the time you find you actually have nothing in common and are from very different worlds which just aren’t compatible outside the travel destination.
Working within the tourism and hospitality industry also means I get to meet new people every day. Which is great because I get to spend time getting to know them while they get to know me. But then at the end of the week I have to say goodbye and start all over again with the next group. Sound tedious to you....well yeah it is! Very bitter sweet....Welcome to my life!
Have you ever thought about how many friends you make on a day to day basis? Can most of you say that you get to meet 2-3 new people a day where you spend time swapping stories, getting to know each other? And if so, how much energy do you think goes into forming a new friendship? I’m here to tell you, it’s a lot! I am tiring of having to constantly use my now finely tuned judgment in assessing whether it’s actually worth getting to know someone when I know it may not last beyond the week.
Some of you would have said that surely being gunned down by drug smugglers, poachers and pirates should rank fairly high on the list of negatives of travelling and of course they do but considering that these moments happen rarely in the travelling world and meeting and leaving new people happens millions of times a day by people all over the world, far more people are dealing with the hurt of loosing close connections every time the world calls you to a new destination, a new unknown and new people.
But let’s leave this on a positive note shall we. I have plenty of time to mull over my next farewell! Besides who am I to complain, I mean life is pretty good within the kimba chronicles right now. The Snow is falling on the French Alps again, I am gearing up for another 5 months of skiing, partying and working mayhem, I am in the midst of completing yachting courses with a new career move insight all while living on the French Riviera! I have had family and best friends come to visit me and by the end of the week I will yet again find myself back in London with 5 nights of freedom before I become a slave in my beloved kitchen again!
Maybe what keeps me going is actually the fact that having friends all over the world and being ‘world famous’ is actually quite cool and not something to be criticised. Although not having my best friend down the street does just kinda Suck!
10.18.2009
Bella Toscana…..Part 17......What Next?
In recent weeks I have made some pretty major decisions. With life now coming to an end here at the Villa in Tuscany. My thoughts are beginning to turn to ‘What next?’ With the decision to not return to the Villa made and set in concrete after a little doubt at saying no to yet another amazing season in my beautiful life here in Italy. And with the ski season looming, come December where I will yet again find myself in the chaotic throws of working as a chef within a buzzing French chalet.
My thoughts have turned to the next big dream. The next adventure to chase. The goal I have been harbouring for many months, possibly years. Actually it’s hard to remember when the first glimmer of hope for this dream was ignited within me because I think its just always been there. Having been brought up immersed in the marine lifestyle and spending years of my life on boats I have always loved the nautical life. And now with my developing passion for cooking and need to continue to explore and travel I have decided to begin the process of trying to crack the super yacht industry. Big, white, shiny, floating boats are what I now find myself dreaming about! Cruising the Mediterranean and exploring Italian and French ports are what my thoughts are filled with these days!
While some of you will have no idea what I am talking about, a super yacht is a boat reaching more than 24 meters in length and can either be a motor or sailing vessel. They are the boats you see in ports such as Monaco and Portofino which everyone walks past in envy and wonders who on earth could own such a beautiful thing and lead such an amazing lifestyle! The privately owned or chartered monster boats all equipped with their own spa’s, private masseurs and jet skis hidden perfectly within the hull are what I am hoping to call home for a summer of Mediterranean port hopping!
I know most of you by now are thinking…..”Is she ever going to come home?” I can honestly say the answer to that question is, ‘Yes, but just not yet!’ I am not ready to find my Australian shores just yet. There are more adventures for me to be had in Europe. Although over the last few months I had been planning and looking forward to coming home for a month or two next year, I have decided to put my need for a dose of Australia on hold until I actualise another of my dreams.
So I am booked in for 11 days of intensive yachting courses on the French Riviera at the end of November, gaining certificates and meeting and greeting agencies in the hope of securing a position on an esteemed super yacht next summer. It is an extremely hard industry to crack, with jobs high in demand and networking being imperative I am hoping I can pull it off. All I can say is, the yachting industry better watch out because you all know what happens when Kim makes up her mind to do something, when she wants something badly enough…..She gets it! So let’s hope I can pull this one off and make the next dream a reality.
Bella Toscana…..Part 16.....My Italian-ness
One of the most amazing experiences about spending extended periods of time in places of your heritage means that parts of yourself which correlate to that heritage begin to appear and become understood. Being in Italy I now understand that there are parts to my psyche and nature that are distinctively Italian. Traits of my Sicilian bloodline that have been passed onto me and now allowed to develop and be nurtured due to spending time amongst the chaotic brilliance of my heritage.
As a child, my Australian upbringing taught me to be capable, dependable, reliable, determined, responsible, the most organised and efficient. And I am proud to say that I am all of those things which fit perfectly into the organised world of Australia but here in Italy none of those things seem to matter and the true essence of my Italian-ness has been allowed to shine through.
When you spend enough time in a place where you are able to spend time with the locals watching and observing their traits and daily habits you’re all of a sudden able to see that some of these traits and habits are actually mirrored in your own personality and daily life and you are able to understand yourself on a much deeper level. Like being able to understand every layer of the onion, right to its core.
My love of cooking, along with my motherly, generous nature and strong family values have all been reflected back to me here in Italy. I now understand why I drive like an Italian and why my big bum and thighs are going to be with me for life! Here I don’t feel ashamed of my Sicilian hot blooded stubbornness, but rather pleased to have it alongside me as a useful tool when dealing with contradicting Italians.
I have sat and observed Italians chop and change their minds at will. Swapping between one truth to the next when it pleases them. Always believing they are of course in the right without a doubt in their minds. Which only makes my opinionated and ever changing mind feel free to exercise itself fully here in Italy.
I now understand why I instinctively care about feeding people and making sure that their tummies are well fed as a way of showing my love and care for people. Just as my Nonna did for me, I too realise that my love for cooking and passion while working in the kitchen comes out of wanting to care for people. Feeding people is just what I do and no one bats an eyelid at that here. In fact it’s completely natural and normal.
And although I am not proud to admit this trait, I do love a gossip just as the Italian men and women do. It’s a well known fact within Italian communities that any ones business soon becomes every ones business. Give an Italian a couple of hours and he or she can spread the news all over the world faster than the world media could! Here gossiping is a way of life, something to do, to pass the time. As you pass the old men sitting out the front of the local bar or the women perched on their balconies overlooking the happenings of the village below we all know how they are passing the time in conversation!
As a child, my Australian upbringing taught me to be capable, dependable, reliable, determined, responsible, the most organised and efficient. And I am proud to say that I am all of those things which fit perfectly into the organised world of Australia but here in Italy none of those things seem to matter and the true essence of my Italian-ness has been allowed to shine through.
When you spend enough time in a place where you are able to spend time with the locals watching and observing their traits and daily habits you’re all of a sudden able to see that some of these traits and habits are actually mirrored in your own personality and daily life and you are able to understand yourself on a much deeper level. Like being able to understand every layer of the onion, right to its core.
My love of cooking, along with my motherly, generous nature and strong family values have all been reflected back to me here in Italy. I now understand why I drive like an Italian and why my big bum and thighs are going to be with me for life! Here I don’t feel ashamed of my Sicilian hot blooded stubbornness, but rather pleased to have it alongside me as a useful tool when dealing with contradicting Italians.
I have sat and observed Italians chop and change their minds at will. Swapping between one truth to the next when it pleases them. Always believing they are of course in the right without a doubt in their minds. Which only makes my opinionated and ever changing mind feel free to exercise itself fully here in Italy.
I now understand why I instinctively care about feeding people and making sure that their tummies are well fed as a way of showing my love and care for people. Just as my Nonna did for me, I too realise that my love for cooking and passion while working in the kitchen comes out of wanting to care for people. Feeding people is just what I do and no one bats an eyelid at that here. In fact it’s completely natural and normal.
And although I am not proud to admit this trait, I do love a gossip just as the Italian men and women do. It’s a well known fact within Italian communities that any ones business soon becomes every ones business. Give an Italian a couple of hours and he or she can spread the news all over the world faster than the world media could! Here gossiping is a way of life, something to do, to pass the time. As you pass the old men sitting out the front of the local bar or the women perched on their balconies overlooking the happenings of the village below we all know how they are passing the time in conversation!
Bella Toscana…..Part 15.....Mia Sicilia
This is a little chapter dedicated to one of those incidences where life takes you down an unexpected path and sets in motion a series of thoughts which changes your life yet again. I found myself venturing into a book store in Florence as I waited for friends to finish their tour of the Acadaemia. And as I arrived at the small English section, the title of a book ‘The Sicilian Kitchen,’ caught my attention. I was hooked by the images of the cover and hearing myself read that word aloud in my mind “Sicilian” I was immediately transported to the place in my heart where I long to be. My heart skipped a beat and I felt like I was home. The place which my Sicilian grandparents instilled a deep passion and love for their country in me.
I found a seat on the steps of the book store and devoured the book for over an hour. Reading page after page and realising that it was Sicily that I came to Italy for. And yet I hadn’t got there. I had been caught in Northern Italy, within the intoxicating life of Toscana.
Deep down as I keep thinking of my time coming to an end in Italy, I realise I have unfinished business with this country. And maybe I always will. It now feels like home to me, just as much as my beloved Australia. When I came to Italy I had longed to see and embrace my Sicily that I had grown up knowing in my heart. And now all I can think of is my return, and this time my destination will be Sicily.
Bella Toscana…..Part 14......Italian Time!
They say heaven is where the cars are German, the lovers French, the Police English, the cooks Italian, and all organised by the Swiss. And they say hell is where the police are German, the lovers Swiss, the cooks English, the mechanics French and all organised by the Italians! Given the recent events I have witnessed here in Italy I could not agree with this statement more!
As Verity, Carla, Sam and I all ventured into Castellina, expecting a leisurely afternoon in our local town, watching Harvey and his school music class perform their orchestra for the year, we were all hoping with bated breathe that the Italians would pull it off this time….
Harvey and his class mates had been practicing for months, learning their musical notes at a painstakingly slow rate. Although we were quite horrified to hear that Harvey had only learnt three notes by the end of the semester and even more troubled by the idea that we would be turning up to a concert where the children only had three notes in their repertoire to play with!
And in true Italian fashion, just as we all had hoped wouldn’t happen, the Italians made a complete shambles of the whole affair! Not that the Italians seem to mind or even notice of course! But as Verity, Carla, Sam and I waited patiently in our seats for something to happen, it quite simply didn’t!
As we sat patiently in our seats, having arrived timely to allow plenty of time for Harvey to organise himself amongst his class mates and calm his nerves we were quite perplexed to find that nothing had been set up in the concert hall with only half an hour before the concert was supposed to begin.
As I turned to Verity, with one of those looks that we give each other when we realise what we have got our selves into, yet again, she said quite fittingly “Italians couldn’t organise a piss up in a brewery, even if they tried!” The thing is I am sure they could, but it would just take weeks of organising and 20 odd people arguing about where the tables and kegs should go before anything actually got done or any beer was actually drank!
So as we somewhat impatiently sat in our seats watching as the Italians got to work trying to set up PA systems and all the important electrical equipment needed to put on such an extravaganza, we yet again felt cheated and annoyed that our precious Sunday afternoon had been wasted on ‘Italian time’! With the concert starting two hours after the so called scheduled start time, we painstakingly endured a procession of songs consisting of the three musical notes which the school children had learnt, with trumpets and violins being played in typically poorly fashion, all sounding like a hungry cat had just been let out in a bird cage! But of course, we endured all of this with a smile on our faces to make sure Harvey was allowed that sense of achievement which all children crave from such special events.
It’s these kind of experiences that really do make we wonder how anything gets done in this country, but also why I love it so much. Truthfully I actually loved siting and watching as the chaos of the Italianess unfolded in front of my eyes. The passionate yet laid back attitude of Italians may be incredibly frustrating at times but maybe we should all take a leaf out of the Italians book. Maybe we would all be better off for a siesta every now and then and a carefree approach to time.
Bella Toscana…..Part 13…..The Intrepid adventures of Kevin
By far one of the most memorable experiences of this past summer has been the intrepid adventures of Kevin! And if most of you are wondering what on earth I am talking about, let me explain. Kevin is a campervan! Who was bought by three of my Australian friends and so named after Kevin Rudd, the Australian Prime Minister! Who recently gave all Australian citizens of a certain age AU$900! So Ben, Mark and Lachy all decided to use their Kevin Rudd issued surplus money in Europe and bought a Campervan with their hard earned Australian cash! And of course decided to name their campervan after the person who had actually paid for it! Kevin!
The boys whom I know from my High School Padua College days left Australia in June and had already travelled through Spain, Andorra, Norway and France before they headed towards me in Italy.
The Palio was to be the event for our rendezvous. So as the boys arrived just in the nick of time to see the second famous Palio horse race of the year I was able to spend time with some Australian friends and join the adventures of Kevin for two weeks in August as the boys and Beth (Lachy’s university friend) explored Tuscany and surrounding areas.
Again I quickly assumed the tour guide role and was all too happy to show the boys and Beth around the area I now know all to well. I was able to show them around the Villa and surrounding local areas which have become my regular haunts such as Siena and Florence.
So the Tuscan leg of ‘The adventures of Kevin’ go something like this….
The Palio
Ben, Mark, Lachy, Beth and I all found ourselves standing in the scorching summer heat of the Piazza Del Campo in Siena to secure our spot to watch the oldest of Italian traditions. A horse race in which the riders and horses of neighbouring contrada’s of Siena race bareback around the Campo for three hot laps. The rivalry between the contrada’s and the atmosphere which is created in Siena due to this medieval tradition is just amazing and something which should simply not be missed. And as the horses raced around the campo for their three short laps after hours of waiting for the race to actually begin, Siena erupted into a frenzy of celebrations. The Boys, Beth and I soaked up the atmosphere during this time by joining the partying in the streets with the winning contrada. Watching as the horse, jockey and winning flags were paraded around the streets of Siena with a chorus of drummers and singers chanting the winning ‘Civetta’ song. I can honestly say that the Palio has been the highlight of my time in Tuscany and something that I am proud to say I have experienced with such amazing friends.
Florence and some new Irish Friends!
Next we decided to venture to Florence for glimpses of the city renowned for its renaissance art. Unfortunately we seemed to descend on Florence just as the hottest days of this summer descended on Tuscany, which unfortunately for us made the streets of Florence almost unbearable during the day. But as we ventured into the city as the sun went down and the temperatures receded to levels which meant you could walk in a constant clammy stickiness without the possibility of heat stroke, I was able to show the boys and Beth some of the sights. Florence is such a gorgeous city by night and is buzzing with life. So as we headed into a bar filled to the brim with local Italians we were surprised to be met by some Irish barristers standing at the bar drinking cocktails. Now I know most of you won’t believe a word of this story; I find it hard to believe that this part of the adventures of Kevin actually happened, that is why I have to write it down, because then maybe I can begin to believe it myself.
By the end of the night we had made ourselves some new Irish friends and somehow found ourselves thanks to my helpful local knowledge invited out to lunch the next day, with the bill all on them!
Naturally the next morning when we all woke and realised that the state of our conversations the previous night might not have held much weight when weighed up against the severity of our hangovers we were all surprised to find messages on our phones from our Irish friends, Richard and Adrian still wanting us to meet them for dinner that night. I had suggested they visit one of my favourite Tuscan restaurants, set in one of the most amazing Tuscan hilltop towns called Lamole. It is by far and away my favourite restaurant in all of Tuscany and I am now famous there due to the amount of time I have spent on their terrace. So for the simple act of being the local and offering a place to eat for these lovely Irish barristers we all found ourselves invited out for dinner. Although most of us were finding it hard to understand why some 50 year old Irish barristers would want to invite four aussie travellers out for an all expenses paid dinner, we were naturally a little reluctant and doubtful that we weren’t just being taken for a ride and that this was all some sort of joke. But true to their word, they arrived at the restaurant and we sat and enjoyed a lovely three course meal with amazing views, great company and all wine and food paid for by these generous chaps. Amazing! I still can’t quite believe it happened.
When we quizzed Richard and Adrian about their motives for offering us utter strangers to a beautiful free meal we were quite taken back and humbled to find that the reason they had offered this good deed to us was in summary actually there way of making sure that the same similar deed that they were offered as penniless travellers when they were young was allowed to continue in this world. We learnt when Richard found himself in Europe with literally only the exact amount of money it was going to cost him to catch the train to the airport for his flight home plus one extra dollar he was offered a wonderful deed by some relative strangers who decided to give him one last night out in Europe and treated him to a glorious meal and drinks. And it was this deed that sparked the notion that Richard, now a successful barrister should return back to other penniless travellers! There is good in this world after all and how surprising and humbling it is to find that we now find ourselves with that same debt to repay to other young travellers someday….
Cinque Terre
Next on the list of adventures to be had was a visit to the Cinque Terre. After the boys (minus Lachy who had gone off to Norway in search of Love!), Beth and I had cooked a meal for guests at the Villa we all piled into Kevin yet again and headed north to the Cinque Terre where we spent lazy hot summer days lying on sun warmed right next to the Mediterranean sea. With not a care in the world we passed the time dosing on the warm rocks and diving in the sea to view the amazing sea life surrounding us in the crystal clear blue water. It was bliss! And of course, when in Cinque Terre….The famous walk must be accomplished. So on a 35+ degree day we headed along the beautiful coastline and walked the miles of path carved out between the five towns of the Cinque Terre. Some perfect days, which now form perfect memories.
The Adventures Part 2
The boys and Beth left me in late August, after two weeks of intrepid adventures around Tuscany but it wasn’t long before I was able to rejoin the fun times. Come mid-September as Mark and Ben (with Lachy and Beth having moved onto Turkey) docked back into the Italian coastline after their ‘mad’ boat cruise in Croatia I was once again able to meet up with them and come along for the Modena/Venice leg of their travels.
What’s red, shiny, fast and is sin ominous with a little red pony?
But first, the boys had a ‘once in a lifetime’ box to tick so I met the boys in Modena and headed in the direction of the land of red, shiny, fast things! The Ferrari factory and museum! Heaven in any car lovers eyes! Ben and Mark both turned into little school kids at the museum and then turned into mid-life crisis middle aged old men when they paid for the privilege of driving an actual Ferrari around the Italian roads of the Ferrari factory! A 15 minute spin in a Ferrari was enough to make these boys talk absolute gibberish for the next 48 hours! With all the horsepower of a Ferrari at their fingertips they paced their way around the factory at amateur like speeds of 180km speeds in second gear! Not bad boys!
And then…..Venice
Next, the adventures of Kevin took us to the beautiful canals and ponte of Venice. By far and away, without any doubt, my favourite place on this earth! My return to her shores allowed me to once again breathe along with her tides and feel the vibration which this beautiful city resonates at. Visits once again to the islands of Murano, Lido and St Marks Square confirmed my love for La serenissima. Gondola rides with friends through the canals along with dinners in local squares have all been added to my bank of precious Venice moments.
Sad farewells
I was incredibly sad when my aussie friends had to move on and continue their adventures in other parts of Europe. Having friends here with me in this new life I have created in Europe solidified what I miss the most about my life in Australia. Although meeting new people is something I enjoy on a daily basis, it was a refreshing change to be able to be myself and slip straight back into a familiar setting. Nothing can replace the lifelong friends we make throughout our lives, especially those whom know us better than others. It was wonderful to be surrounded by people who already knew me. To not have to go through conversation after conversation about past histories and life summaries. To simply just be understood immediately by my already established friends almost felt like a shock to the system and I made sure I soaked up every minute of it. I loved the ease at being able to chat so idly about mutual friends and moments we had shared in our lives in Australia. Being miles away from friends and family and spending extended periods of time with strangers surrounding your every move can be one of the loneliest experiences of the traveller lifestyle, so it was with great sadness that I farewelled the adventures of Kevin from my life. But with great admiration that some of my best friends in this world came to share such an incredible period of their lives with me. The bonds which they are creating due to their pilgrimage together in my opinion is truly inspirational and something which I envy but am grateful for having been a part of for a brief period of time. Thanks guys!
10.16.2009
Bella Toscana…..Part 12…..When in Rome…..
I am glad to report after 25 and a half years of never tasting a single drop of coffee, in celebration of Mel’s presence with me in Italy I have ticked a ‘must do in Italy’ criterion off my list and had my first ever cup off coffee!! It had to happen. When in Italy…..right?
The lack of coffee in my life never came about for any particular reason. I grew up in an Italian family with the familiar flavour and smell of coffee flowing through my veins in a manner of speaking but never literally. The actual habit of drinking coffee was just something I seemed to skip. Some even found it a small feet on my behalf that I survived 4 years of an intense university degree without a single drop of the miracle concentration cup!
But as Mel and I visited a small Tuscan village and sat down in a quaint little cafe on the small main street I saluted Mel’s European holiday and our Italian reunion with a beautifully warming glass filled with the most delicious aromatic Caffe Latte! It was perfect! My first taste of the deliciously warming flavour of coffee.
I now understand what all the fuss is about!! I love the strong flavour of the espresso which lingers in your mouth long after the coffee has been digested. But I equally love the milky warmth of the milk which makes the experience last longer in a Caffe Latte. Oh decisions, decisions!
So now begins the coffee drinking habit within the Italian travels of the kimba chronicles. And haven’t I chosen one of the best, if not the best country to begin this habit in! You will now know where to find me....standing at the bar, espresso in hand, doing things the Italian way!
The lack of coffee in my life never came about for any particular reason. I grew up in an Italian family with the familiar flavour and smell of coffee flowing through my veins in a manner of speaking but never literally. The actual habit of drinking coffee was just something I seemed to skip. Some even found it a small feet on my behalf that I survived 4 years of an intense university degree without a single drop of the miracle concentration cup!
But as Mel and I visited a small Tuscan village and sat down in a quaint little cafe on the small main street I saluted Mel’s European holiday and our Italian reunion with a beautifully warming glass filled with the most delicious aromatic Caffe Latte! It was perfect! My first taste of the deliciously warming flavour of coffee.
I now understand what all the fuss is about!! I love the strong flavour of the espresso which lingers in your mouth long after the coffee has been digested. But I equally love the milky warmth of the milk which makes the experience last longer in a Caffe Latte. Oh decisions, decisions!
So now begins the coffee drinking habit within the Italian travels of the kimba chronicles. And haven’t I chosen one of the best, if not the best country to begin this habit in! You will now know where to find me....standing at the bar, espresso in hand, doing things the Italian way!
Bella Toscana…..Part 11…..Surprises in August and an unexpected September
Suddenly it is October and I am now in my final days here at the Villa. I find myself reminiscing about the summer been and gone and wondering where on earth August or September went. I am sure the days are imprinted somewhere in my memory, slurred together with the sleep deprivation and days of running around like a crazed lunatic trying to get everything done at the Villa while looking after Sam and all the guests, along with the multitude of friends I have had come and visit me here in the last couple of months.
August was supposed to be one of my quietest months here at the Villa. And if I am honest I was actually quite looking forward to having nothing but siesta and writing to look forward to each day. I had begun writing and compiling my own recipe book and I had set myself a target back in July of having it completed by the last day of August! Well, now that that date has been and gone, I am quite perplexed as to how my August turned into one of the busiest months for me here at the Villa. And unfortunately for my recipe book, a new deadline has had to be drawn, although I don’t hold out much hope for its success either unfortunately. Maybe one day!
September also seems to have become a blimp on my memory. As Sam begun nursery, Verity was told under no uncertain terms to put her feet up and not lift a finger! In the final weeks of her pregnancy, life for me at the Villa took on a different view. No longer did I have Sam attached to my conscious, I now had the inner workings of the Villa to handle and take care of. Verity and I literally swapped jobs! Which left me with the cleaning, cooking and guest related palaver to deal with.
And now as I sit here today, in the crisp days of October, with autumn all around me, summer is now beginning to feel like a distant memory. The debilitating heat of those hot July and August days are beginning to recede from my memory. And as the change of season is upon us, the familiar taste of leaving is on my tongue yet again. My mouth now used to the taste of travel is gearing up for the ski season ahead and all the adventures the slopes will have in store for me this winter.
But before I delve into what the future may hold for me I will take you back to August and try to fill you in on what I have been up to during these hot Tuscan summer days.
Well life seemed to kick into a higher gear for me in August. We had weddings and many many guests making their way down our long winding driveway, which was great as well as very stressful. But to make all of that more enjoyable I am pleased to report I almost didn’t spend a day without friends here with me in August. First to make the pilgrimage to visit me was my gutsy Vaujany roommate Sophie, who had been working as an au pair in the south of France. Her linguistic skills have put me to shame and she is now fluent in French having lived with a French family for the last 6 months. Sophie stayed with me for 5 nights during one of the busiest weeks here this season. She arrived smack bang in the middle of one of our wedding weeks here at the Villa. She helped Verity and I prepare and serve all the catering for the wedding reception and was instrumental in helping us get everything organised. Thanks Sophie!
August also happened to bring the ski season to visit me here in Tuscany. As I was lucky enough to have Ex-KickSki guests come and stay at the Villa for 2 whole weeks! Sue and Gary with their adorable boys, Fergus and James and parents Tony and Carol became part of the background here in early August, just as they did in Vaujany after they spent a full month in resort! It was lovely to have my skiing family back again and to be able to chat away about skiing constantly with them over bottles of vino and games of cards. I was sad to see them leave but I have promised to make it out to Dubai for a visit on my way back to Oz…whenever that may be!
Next was my lovely friend from Devon who came to surprise me. Unbeknown to me she and her partner had booked into the Villa under a different name as a disguise. Last year I had surprised her by secretly arranging a holiday with her family in Spain, so this year she got me back! And what a lovely surprise it was. She and her partner, Mikey stayed for 4 nights and we picked up our friendship where we had left it months ago back when I was in Devon at the end of last year. Sarah is like family to me here in Europe and I always cherish the time we get to spend with each other. So thank you once again Sarah for my wonderful surprise. My turn now!
Come September I had even more friends to look forward to. My little pad, herby cottage was fast becoming the famed haunt for many of my friends who wanted to escape the UK summer. Although most of my friends say their reason for visiting was to spend time with me I secretly suspect that something about my alluring Italian destination which I call home may have had something to do with it! But do you see me complaining? Nope! I am just ever so grateful to be able to have friends come and visit me here at the Villa. I can honestly say that my life here in Europe now feels far more complete than it did last year, purely for the fact that I now know I have friends dotted all over Europe!
September brought Louise and Vicki, Ex Ski Peakers, who I had spent 5 months in Vaujany with. Lou and I camped on the southern Tuscan beaches and spent days lying on the sand and swimming in the sea, soaking up the last of the summer rays. And yet again my tour guide skills were put to use as we spent time wandering the streets of Siena, San Gimignano and Castellina.
And finally after months and months of waiting, my Australian best friend arrived with me at the Villa. I found Mel waiting patiently at Florence train station and amongst all the travellers of the day I received the biggest, bestest best friend hug! Mel stayed with me for 8 days in mid-September and our time passed all too quickly, as it does when you’re having too much fun. Unfortunately our 8 days consisted of me having to work solidly at the Villa as our planned trip to the Amalfi Coast went down the drain as did my relationship with an English ski instructor. Mel’s arrival actually couldn’t have been more perfect as having an extra pair of hands to help out meant I didn’t have a nervous breakdown amidst the busiest weeks here at the Villa. What are best friends for anyway, if they can’t be there for you just when you need them! Mel got to experience my new kitchen skills first hand as we cooked for guests 3 nights during her stay and kept my spirits up and my thoughts distracted from the demise of yet another relationship with yet another silly boy! The highlight of our Italian reunion was an amazing afternoon spent at my favourite restaurant in a small town called Lamole. We laboured over amazing Tuscan food for 5 hours and spent most of the time polishing off a bottle of chilled limoncello on the terrace while the waiters flirted and distracted us from the beautiful vista set in front of us!
And now, after 19 months away from family, I am pleased to report that I will have my Dad here with me in a few days! The first family member I have seen since I nervously walked through those dreaded double doors at Melbourne airport in floods of tears and fits of sobbing at leaving my beloved family behind.
10.13.2009
Bella Toscana.....Part 10.....Its a Boy!!!
It gives me great pleasure to announce that Verity has given birth to a beautiful little boy. That’s right another boy to complete the trifecta! He arrived on the 12th of October at 11:18am and weighed just 2.94kg. Both little Max Zimbler and Verity are doing great and we are looking forward to bringing them both home in a few days.
10.02.2009
Bella Toscana…..Part 9…..A Suitcase full of Memories
“Oh, it’s a hard life!” Living and working in the heart of the Chianti region of Tuscany, with an endless supply of chianti classico vino at my fingertips is such a hard life to lead! But someone has to do it, right? I love the life I have been able to create here amongst the olive trees, gorgeous Italians, the melodic Italian language, the beautiful rolling hills, not to mention the unforgettable food! Life here in Italy is perfect. So why do I find myself deciding to leave?
While I saw this journey through rose tinted glasses last year, I find I have the glasses of reality securely attached to my face this year. Because now everywhere I look is my life. The life that I have been able to create here in Italy. Its all mine, familiar and old to me now. No longer strange, exciting and new.
I now have less than a month left here in Italy with my beloved little family at the Villa. And how sad that feels, except that I have absolutely no time to think about it. As we gear up for our final month of guests here at the villa, a new baby to arrive in less than 3 weeks time and all the preparations which go along with a new born. Have any of us got the luxury of time to sit and think about the changes which we are all about to face! Nope!
And thank god for that because I am certain any such train of sorrowful thoughts would lead me down a path which I know I may not be able to recover from. Each minute I spend with Sam now, each smile and laugh which I extract from his perfect beingness pulls on my heart strings. Every meal I sit down and partake in is just one meal less I won’t have again with my little family here in Italy. The family which embraced me as their own and which I feel as close to as I do my own.
How will I ever be able to forget this place? This place which has given me so much. The Villa, my little herby cottage, Verity, Simon, Sam and Harvey, Italy, Tuscany and an endless list of other magical people and things about this life I have here. How do I forget the place I now know as intimately as any home I have ever lived? Where I know where the best patch of sage grows, where the wild asparagus will sprout from in April and where to look for the August full moon. Which field to watch the fireflies from and where the wild boar like to take their young in Spring. The Villa is imprinted on the back of my hand just as Tuscany is.
The only consolation is the knowledge that this place will haunt me for many months and possibly years to come. I will know what the streets of Siena will feel like as the first Palio of the year is run, what the beautiful rolling hills will look like from month to month. How the grapes will begin to sprout in May and be harvested in September. The sweet broom filling the air as summer approaches and how the first figs on the trees will taste when picked in the August heat.
So as I gear up to pack my suitcase full of memories, with the knowledge that Italy isn’t going anywhere I am trying to console my heart by tricking it into believing that another journey is about to begin which I can only hope will become as rewarding and beautiful as the life I have created here, but secretly I never want anything to be as beautiful as this time here in Italy, my first journey overseas and the place which brought me back to life. It has been perfect beyond words and I always will have those memories with me, forever.
While I saw this journey through rose tinted glasses last year, I find I have the glasses of reality securely attached to my face this year. Because now everywhere I look is my life. The life that I have been able to create here in Italy. Its all mine, familiar and old to me now. No longer strange, exciting and new.
I now have less than a month left here in Italy with my beloved little family at the Villa. And how sad that feels, except that I have absolutely no time to think about it. As we gear up for our final month of guests here at the villa, a new baby to arrive in less than 3 weeks time and all the preparations which go along with a new born. Have any of us got the luxury of time to sit and think about the changes which we are all about to face! Nope!
And thank god for that because I am certain any such train of sorrowful thoughts would lead me down a path which I know I may not be able to recover from. Each minute I spend with Sam now, each smile and laugh which I extract from his perfect beingness pulls on my heart strings. Every meal I sit down and partake in is just one meal less I won’t have again with my little family here in Italy. The family which embraced me as their own and which I feel as close to as I do my own.
How will I ever be able to forget this place? This place which has given me so much. The Villa, my little herby cottage, Verity, Simon, Sam and Harvey, Italy, Tuscany and an endless list of other magical people and things about this life I have here. How do I forget the place I now know as intimately as any home I have ever lived? Where I know where the best patch of sage grows, where the wild asparagus will sprout from in April and where to look for the August full moon. Which field to watch the fireflies from and where the wild boar like to take their young in Spring. The Villa is imprinted on the back of my hand just as Tuscany is.
The only consolation is the knowledge that this place will haunt me for many months and possibly years to come. I will know what the streets of Siena will feel like as the first Palio of the year is run, what the beautiful rolling hills will look like from month to month. How the grapes will begin to sprout in May and be harvested in September. The sweet broom filling the air as summer approaches and how the first figs on the trees will taste when picked in the August heat.
So as I gear up to pack my suitcase full of memories, with the knowledge that Italy isn’t going anywhere I am trying to console my heart by tricking it into believing that another journey is about to begin which I can only hope will become as rewarding and beautiful as the life I have created here, but secretly I never want anything to be as beautiful as this time here in Italy, my first journey overseas and the place which brought me back to life. It has been perfect beyond words and I always will have those memories with me, forever.
10.01.2009
My first writers’ apology
For the first time I am going to make an apology for one of my blog entries. Never before have I allowed myself to post an entry while angered and in the heat of dealing with emotions in my mind. I always allow myself the luxury of hindsight and perspective before I post an entry, but due to my poorly, flu infested, grumpy head earlier this week I wrote out of sheer frustration and I would like to apologise for my little rant about ‘What it is we all want!’
Luckily the flu like symptoms have begun to subside and so too have my thoughts. And now with clearer sinuses and a clearer head I have been able to get some clarification on what it is I actually needed to say. My frustrations came largely from other peoples lives affecting my own. From other peoples indecisions and lack of direction in their own lives which was in effect affecting my own.
And just for the record, I feel I have a pretty good grasp of what it is I want. World peace, good health, love and happiness all top the list, of course! But how I am going to go about achieving all of those aspirations which I hold close to my heart are weighed up whenever I need to make a decision on any great magnitude.
What can I say, I am a planner! Not that any plans actually go according to plan! Call me a control freak! But I do like to have a basic running idea of where I am heading and how I am going to get there. Every decision I make is carefully calculated to get me to where I want to go, to what I want to do or to who I want to be. Which could go a fair way to explaining why those words “I don’t know what it is I want!” being the most off putting words anyone could possibly say to me. Hence my frustrations of late, which I must apologise for.
Luckily the flu like symptoms have begun to subside and so too have my thoughts. And now with clearer sinuses and a clearer head I have been able to get some clarification on what it is I actually needed to say. My frustrations came largely from other peoples lives affecting my own. From other peoples indecisions and lack of direction in their own lives which was in effect affecting my own.
And just for the record, I feel I have a pretty good grasp of what it is I want. World peace, good health, love and happiness all top the list, of course! But how I am going to go about achieving all of those aspirations which I hold close to my heart are weighed up whenever I need to make a decision on any great magnitude.
What can I say, I am a planner! Not that any plans actually go according to plan! Call me a control freak! But I do like to have a basic running idea of where I am heading and how I am going to get there. Every decision I make is carefully calculated to get me to where I want to go, to what I want to do or to who I want to be. Which could go a fair way to explaining why those words “I don’t know what it is I want!” being the most off putting words anyone could possibly say to me. Hence my frustrations of late, which I must apologise for.
9.27.2009
“I DON’T KNOW!”
Do you know what you want?
Have you stopped yourself lately and had the conversation with yourself about what it is you actually want? Thought about what you have and the direction your life is travelling?
“If you answered yes to the above questions, if you’re out there, I would certainly like to meet you? Because you must be the ONLY person on this planet I would have the pleasure of meeting who does!”
How is it that so few of us on this planet actually know what we want? And why is it so damn hard to figure out? Is there an undiscovered gene amongst all humans that takes control over our capabilities of knowing exactly what we want?
And even when we think we know what we want, you can be guaranteed to find yourself right back at square one again, as life throws you a curve ball and successfully scrambles your every thought. Turning you inside out, leaving you feeling, without warning that the world is a new place, which looks different and you are forced to start all over again.
Most of us must be able to say that at stages throughout our lives we have known EXACTLY what we have wanted. But more often than not, most of us would say that we have had times when we have had absolutely NO IDEA what we have wanted! Isn’t that the curse of life! Never exactly knowing ANYTHING!
Just how many external sources bombard our every thought each day; making us question everything we have and don’t have? The list is virtually endless! How are any of us supposed to be strong enough within ourselves to make a clear decision about what we want when we are constantly being given OPTIONS!
If I try to justify it, I could write about how the flaws of the human race give us a scape goat from needing to be perfect at all times. Wouldn’t it be true to say that human beings evolve and change daily, so, of course, what we want should also therefore change and evolve daily? Giving us permission and the right to spend large amounts of our lives having absolutely no idea!
In the end we all have to make a decision. Right? Or is life so convenient that it makes the decisions for us? And we are just merely passengers along for the journey of life, riding its twists and turns as best we can? I am not going to try and delve into the notions of fate here. The true meaning and existence of destiny is hurting my brain just thinking about it. Maybe another time, another chapter. Today I am just perplexed by truly knowing what it is we all want!
I challenge you all to sit and ponder what it is you want…..
And not to merely take the easy route by stating love, world peace, good health and happiness are all you could ever want and ask for! Because filling in those little dots with the intricacies of how you will actually achieve outcomes which may enable you to have love, world peace, good health and happiness are a lot harder than we give them credit for
Have you stopped yourself lately and had the conversation with yourself about what it is you actually want? Thought about what you have and the direction your life is travelling?
“If you answered yes to the above questions, if you’re out there, I would certainly like to meet you? Because you must be the ONLY person on this planet I would have the pleasure of meeting who does!”
How is it that so few of us on this planet actually know what we want? And why is it so damn hard to figure out? Is there an undiscovered gene amongst all humans that takes control over our capabilities of knowing exactly what we want?
And even when we think we know what we want, you can be guaranteed to find yourself right back at square one again, as life throws you a curve ball and successfully scrambles your every thought. Turning you inside out, leaving you feeling, without warning that the world is a new place, which looks different and you are forced to start all over again.
Most of us must be able to say that at stages throughout our lives we have known EXACTLY what we have wanted. But more often than not, most of us would say that we have had times when we have had absolutely NO IDEA what we have wanted! Isn’t that the curse of life! Never exactly knowing ANYTHING!
Just how many external sources bombard our every thought each day; making us question everything we have and don’t have? The list is virtually endless! How are any of us supposed to be strong enough within ourselves to make a clear decision about what we want when we are constantly being given OPTIONS!
If I try to justify it, I could write about how the flaws of the human race give us a scape goat from needing to be perfect at all times. Wouldn’t it be true to say that human beings evolve and change daily, so, of course, what we want should also therefore change and evolve daily? Giving us permission and the right to spend large amounts of our lives having absolutely no idea!
In the end we all have to make a decision. Right? Or is life so convenient that it makes the decisions for us? And we are just merely passengers along for the journey of life, riding its twists and turns as best we can? I am not going to try and delve into the notions of fate here. The true meaning and existence of destiny is hurting my brain just thinking about it. Maybe another time, another chapter. Today I am just perplexed by truly knowing what it is we all want!
I challenge you all to sit and ponder what it is you want…..
And not to merely take the easy route by stating love, world peace, good health and happiness are all you could ever want and ask for! Because filling in those little dots with the intricacies of how you will actually achieve outcomes which may enable you to have love, world peace, good health and happiness are a lot harder than we give them credit for
9.07.2009
Bella Toscana…..Part 8…..Just more blah, blah, blah!
I just want to say a quick thank you to all of you whom have sent me emails letting me know how much you are enjoying reading these chronicles. It is with great pleasure that I write on this page.
Writing has always come very naturally to me. In fact it comes so naturally to me I often find myself in situations where waves of uncontrollable thoughts wash over me, bombarding and bowling me over in the white wash of every wave. Sometimes these waves are so huge, the sentences on any given topic literally fall over each other in my mind trying to make themselves known. Stating their importance and need in which they need to be written down in varying degrees of urgency.
These moments quite obviously and most frustratingly happen at the most inconvenient of times. They never seem to happen just as I am sitting at my laptop, ready and waiting, but moments when I am driving or in the kitchen preparing a meal for 20 people. Moments when I obviously can’t get pen to paper easily without having to pull over or allow risotto to stick to the bottom of the pan!
It’s at times such as these when I literally wish I had a tape recorder of my thoughts, in order for me to capture each and every thought perfectly. To have the luxury of being able to develop and pursue each thought with the attention in which they deserve and I would love to give them. Unfortunately I have found if I cannot get pen to paper in the moments shortly following these inspirational moments of thought they are usually lost forever or I have to wait for them to hopefully reappear during the next episode of spontaneous thought washes over me.
It would be true to say that words flow far more freely from my fingertips than words flow from my mouth in speech. Writers call it a gift, but I call it ‘the curse’. There is nothing more frustrating than not being able to speak as easily and freely as I do within my own mind? Wouldn’t life easier if I could just talk as my mind thinks rather than having to spend arduous hours writing? Words are my way of communicating; I see the world not through images, symbols or music but through words. I guess I should see it as a gift, and maybe I already do. I just wish I saw the world through a method in which allowed me to not have to spend hours in front of a computer. Surely I could have chosen a less time consuming method to express myself. Maybe I really should re-think developing those photography skills further!
And yes, if I admit it, I would love to become published one day. Who knows maybe I will find someone whom is interested enough to envisage a way in which I could find an audience and format for my writing and bring my dream to life. But for now I am enjoying keeping you all updated on my adventures and being able to capture my thoughts and write them down for all of those people who know me so well. So thank you all for allowing me to write.
Writing has always come very naturally to me. In fact it comes so naturally to me I often find myself in situations where waves of uncontrollable thoughts wash over me, bombarding and bowling me over in the white wash of every wave. Sometimes these waves are so huge, the sentences on any given topic literally fall over each other in my mind trying to make themselves known. Stating their importance and need in which they need to be written down in varying degrees of urgency.
These moments quite obviously and most frustratingly happen at the most inconvenient of times. They never seem to happen just as I am sitting at my laptop, ready and waiting, but moments when I am driving or in the kitchen preparing a meal for 20 people. Moments when I obviously can’t get pen to paper easily without having to pull over or allow risotto to stick to the bottom of the pan!
It’s at times such as these when I literally wish I had a tape recorder of my thoughts, in order for me to capture each and every thought perfectly. To have the luxury of being able to develop and pursue each thought with the attention in which they deserve and I would love to give them. Unfortunately I have found if I cannot get pen to paper in the moments shortly following these inspirational moments of thought they are usually lost forever or I have to wait for them to hopefully reappear during the next episode of spontaneous thought washes over me.
It would be true to say that words flow far more freely from my fingertips than words flow from my mouth in speech. Writers call it a gift, but I call it ‘the curse’. There is nothing more frustrating than not being able to speak as easily and freely as I do within my own mind? Wouldn’t life easier if I could just talk as my mind thinks rather than having to spend arduous hours writing? Words are my way of communicating; I see the world not through images, symbols or music but through words. I guess I should see it as a gift, and maybe I already do. I just wish I saw the world through a method in which allowed me to not have to spend hours in front of a computer. Surely I could have chosen a less time consuming method to express myself. Maybe I really should re-think developing those photography skills further!
And yes, if I admit it, I would love to become published one day. Who knows maybe I will find someone whom is interested enough to envisage a way in which I could find an audience and format for my writing and bring my dream to life. But for now I am enjoying keeping you all updated on my adventures and being able to capture my thoughts and write them down for all of those people who know me so well. So thank you all for allowing me to write.
8.31.2009
Bella Toscana….Part 7....Bel Far Niente and Embracing the Siesta!
One of my many loves of Italians culture is their passion for “Bel Far Niente” which translated, means “the beauty of doing nothing!” Bel far niente is at the forefront of every Italians mind. Well actually, to be more precise, its not! Bel far niente is so engrained into their psyches that it is just part of all Italians genetic make-up. You see, for most of us, we see a working day lasting from 9am to 5pm with a lunch break at noon, but to most Italians, they have never experienced a working day such as this. Italians never see each day as yet another day in which to achieve a certain goal or another day which will bring us closer to being able to retire. Italians never retire because they see work as part of daily life and not simply as a means to an end. Italians are the masters of being able to live in perfect balance. Each day’s purpose is to find the balance of pleasure, family, rest and work! To Italians there is no such thing as retirement, because they simply allow pleasure to be the goal of each day, with work and family central to that very notion.
Every Italian will start their day in a bar or café with an espresso and a pastry, followed by a burst of caffeine fuelled energy and ‘work’ until roughly 1pm. This is when they all close up their shops and either walk, drive or catch the bus home. Once home with their families they all sit around a table for the pasta meal of the day and a full spread of lunch cuisine. They chat about their day thus far and what is to come. They drink wine, they talk loudly and throw their hands in the air with all the gestures Italians are so well known for. Then with bellies full of food and wine they retire to their beds for the daily siesta!
That’s right, Siesta! Six days a week Italians crawl into their beds in the middle of the day for an hours nap, escaping the heat of the day. To rejuvenate from their hard few hours of ‘work’ from the morning of that day! And of course, Sunday is the day of rest, when absolutely nothing is open except the churches! No petrol station, post office, bank, supermarket, newsagent or bakery stays open for the hours of siesta. It is so engrained in the Italian way of living that literally the country closes down from 1pm to roughly 3-4pm each day.
You ask how does a country get anything down with a lifestyle such as this? Well I asked the same question, but believe it or not, Italy actually functions perfectly well on this course of daily life. During summer as the heat of the day begins to reseed the shops begin to reopen and daily working life resumes until roughly 7-8pm in the evening. Italians prefer to be able to go home to their families, sit and enjoy the most important meal of the day together, have a nap and then work longer into the evenings.
And it’s with great pleasure that I have been able to embrace this most of indulgent of lifestyles. I too retire to bed for the hours of siesta. With the heat of the Tuscan summer days reaching a point of unbearability (pretty sure I just invented a new word!). Following lunch, filled to the brim with delicious pasta all of us at the Villa traipse off to our beds and with the fan whirling in the corner of the room, we lay our bodies down, escaping the heat of the day by sleeping. Bliss!
Every Italian will start their day in a bar or café with an espresso and a pastry, followed by a burst of caffeine fuelled energy and ‘work’ until roughly 1pm. This is when they all close up their shops and either walk, drive or catch the bus home. Once home with their families they all sit around a table for the pasta meal of the day and a full spread of lunch cuisine. They chat about their day thus far and what is to come. They drink wine, they talk loudly and throw their hands in the air with all the gestures Italians are so well known for. Then with bellies full of food and wine they retire to their beds for the daily siesta!
That’s right, Siesta! Six days a week Italians crawl into their beds in the middle of the day for an hours nap, escaping the heat of the day. To rejuvenate from their hard few hours of ‘work’ from the morning of that day! And of course, Sunday is the day of rest, when absolutely nothing is open except the churches! No petrol station, post office, bank, supermarket, newsagent or bakery stays open for the hours of siesta. It is so engrained in the Italian way of living that literally the country closes down from 1pm to roughly 3-4pm each day.
You ask how does a country get anything down with a lifestyle such as this? Well I asked the same question, but believe it or not, Italy actually functions perfectly well on this course of daily life. During summer as the heat of the day begins to reseed the shops begin to reopen and daily working life resumes until roughly 7-8pm in the evening. Italians prefer to be able to go home to their families, sit and enjoy the most important meal of the day together, have a nap and then work longer into the evenings.
And it’s with great pleasure that I have been able to embrace this most of indulgent of lifestyles. I too retire to bed for the hours of siesta. With the heat of the Tuscan summer days reaching a point of unbearability (pretty sure I just invented a new word!). Following lunch, filled to the brim with delicious pasta all of us at the Villa traipse off to our beds and with the fan whirling in the corner of the room, we lay our bodies down, escaping the heat of the day by sleeping. Bliss!
8.23.2009
Bella Toscana…..Part 6......No Longer a Tourist
The days seem to be merging into one another. The experiences continue to feel just as deep and as intense, but less pointed. Life has taken on a familiarity and security which allows a sense of home to emerge within me. I no longer feel like a tourist or a traveller here. The journey has become my life.
I now have an accumulated amount of knowledge of a place which most people spend their lives wishing and hoping to see. Tuscany is imprinted on the back of my hand and feels as familiar as my favourite pair of shoes. And I like that. I am proud to say that I have been able to live in such a beautiful, historical and traditional part of the world for a period of time. And now comes the hard part….Leaving it.
With the knowledge that my time (for now) in Italy is coming to an end, I find myself wanting to document everything with photographs. I carry around my camera with me everywhere, taking happy snaps of even the most mundane of activities and objects, in the hope of capturing moments and objects which will remind of why I love this country so much.
I am beginning to be torn in two. My heart slips straight into my mouth every time I find my thoughts wondering about leaving this place. Patrignone and Herby Cottage feel as much as home as any place I have ever lived and called home. What’s one to do when they feel torn between two countries equally as beautiful yet each totally unique and as geographically far apart as is worldly possible?
I now have an accumulated amount of knowledge of a place which most people spend their lives wishing and hoping to see. Tuscany is imprinted on the back of my hand and feels as familiar as my favourite pair of shoes. And I like that. I am proud to say that I have been able to live in such a beautiful, historical and traditional part of the world for a period of time. And now comes the hard part….Leaving it.
With the knowledge that my time (for now) in Italy is coming to an end, I find myself wanting to document everything with photographs. I carry around my camera with me everywhere, taking happy snaps of even the most mundane of activities and objects, in the hope of capturing moments and objects which will remind of why I love this country so much.
I am beginning to be torn in two. My heart slips straight into my mouth every time I find my thoughts wondering about leaving this place. Patrignone and Herby Cottage feel as much as home as any place I have ever lived and called home. What’s one to do when they feel torn between two countries equally as beautiful yet each totally unique and as geographically far apart as is worldly possible?
8.17.2009
Bella Toscana……Part 5…….Sitting, Thinking, Wishing
Sitting here on my terrace overlooking the Tuscan countryside and the olive grove below, I know that there is a world revolving out there without me in it and that I am living an indulgent lifestyle of peace, tranquillity and solitude. Just the way I want it right now. There aren’t too many times in your life when you get to sit and take stock of your life. To be allowed to sit, read and write each day. Time is something I have plenty of here which is what I will miss when it comes time to eventually leave.
I get to sit and observe. I watch the seasons change day by day and the cycle of Mother Nature surrounds my every turn.
It makes me so angry when the first thing people say to me after they hear about my life here at Patrignone is “Don’t you get bored?” as if to say that I am not living if I am living an existence without television, traffic, news, cinema’s, bars and the stresses of daily life.
I live within my own little micro-world here at the Villa. Weeks can pass by without leaving these surroundings and buildings. Some may find that quite peculiar with a feeling as if being within a prison. But to me it is bliss, I am perfectly happy within my own company. I have never needed external sources to keep myself occupied. I have plenty to do here. Reading, writing, photography, cooking, daily siesta’s. What more could I want?
I get to sit and observe. I watch the seasons change day by day and the cycle of Mother Nature surrounds my every turn.
It makes me so angry when the first thing people say to me after they hear about my life here at Patrignone is “Don’t you get bored?” as if to say that I am not living if I am living an existence without television, traffic, news, cinema’s, bars and the stresses of daily life.
I live within my own little micro-world here at the Villa. Weeks can pass by without leaving these surroundings and buildings. Some may find that quite peculiar with a feeling as if being within a prison. But to me it is bliss, I am perfectly happy within my own company. I have never needed external sources to keep myself occupied. I have plenty to do here. Reading, writing, photography, cooking, daily siesta’s. What more could I want?
8.14.2009
Bella Toscana…..Part 4......What’s happening to me?
Gone are the days of leisurely Volleyball games at the beach, competitive State League Saturdays or party fuelled tournaments. So too are the days of being content with a leisurely drive to Gunnamatta for a surf after work or a road trip along the Great Ocean Road on the weekends. Of course those days are treasured and dearly embedded in my fond memory file deep within me but all that just seems mundane now. Done and worn out like an old pair of loved shoes. Oh how times have changed!
A new type of adventurous side of me has begun to emerge. Now all I dream of are the shear grandeur of the Alps, powder perfect days on the slopes and being able to throw myself down hideously steep pistes on skis! I dream of the next destination which will take me into another unknown. New places to call home and push the boundaries of what I consider normal even more. I have become a self confessed adventure ski and travel junky! Oh God! Please help me!
I find myself spending my nights reading Ewan McGregor and Charley Boormans ‘Long way Round’, filling me an adventurous spirit which only makes me want to become a pioneer of travelling brilliance! I secretly hope that every trail, track, road and path hasn’t already been walked, driven or flown before. I download skiing films and become consumed by Warren Miller’s death defying skiing videos. I search the net for inspiration from peoples travel blogs and the Age Newspaper’s ‘Snow It All’s’ articles. I research skiing destinations in New Zealand and plan a route around the world being able to follow the perfect skiing winters of the globe.
Oh Dear, what has become of me? Is there any hope of me being able to return to a normal life?
A new type of adventurous side of me has begun to emerge. Now all I dream of are the shear grandeur of the Alps, powder perfect days on the slopes and being able to throw myself down hideously steep pistes on skis! I dream of the next destination which will take me into another unknown. New places to call home and push the boundaries of what I consider normal even more. I have become a self confessed adventure ski and travel junky! Oh God! Please help me!
I find myself spending my nights reading Ewan McGregor and Charley Boormans ‘Long way Round’, filling me an adventurous spirit which only makes me want to become a pioneer of travelling brilliance! I secretly hope that every trail, track, road and path hasn’t already been walked, driven or flown before. I download skiing films and become consumed by Warren Miller’s death defying skiing videos. I search the net for inspiration from peoples travel blogs and the Age Newspaper’s ‘Snow It All’s’ articles. I research skiing destinations in New Zealand and plan a route around the world being able to follow the perfect skiing winters of the globe.
Oh Dear, what has become of me? Is there any hope of me being able to return to a normal life?
8.11.2009
Bella Toscana……Part 3........No Right To Complain!
I often think about how lucky I am. How privileged I feel to be living this lifestyle. To continually be able to seek and find these amazing adventures and beautiful places. I seem to be living an envious life. A life in which people are all too quick to point out how jealous they are of, so it is no wonder, I constantly feel lucky. But then I tell myself that I created this! I remind myself that this is something I decided to seek and that everyone has that same choice. The option to seek a new adventure, a new challenge and to expand their horizons, so is it simply luck that finds me here or the shear courage and determination to do something for myself. The ability to accept change as a way of life and to seek the unknown without fear but excitement. To want to explore a new unknown and ask yourself what new experiences, new awareness, new territories and people may I find there.
I chose a life lived richly through experiences and people. I am not the person just dreaming about this life, I am living it! So if that makes me lucky, then I am happy with that title!
I chose a life lived richly through experiences and people. I am not the person just dreaming about this life, I am living it! So if that makes me lucky, then I am happy with that title!
7.29.2009
Bella Toscana…..Part 2......Its TOO Bloomin HOT!!
Now I am not usually the type to complain about the heat. I love summer just as much as any other fully fledged Aussie. The sensation of the sun sinking into my skin is one of my many loves. But I tell you these long Tuscan hot summer days are something altogether different.
Maybe I am becoming soft in my old age, or maybe my time spent in the French Alps has reset my body clock to a few degrees below what I can usually stand. Maybe I really am turning into a winter baby after all. I used to revel in the heat, as if it was like spending time with my best friend. Mowing the lawn or gardening for hours under the heat of the day never bothered me as long as I had a nice cold drink in the fridge with my name all over it, but now, even with the luxury of being able to throw myself in the pool at the end of any task I cant bring myself to function like I once did. The endless hot days with little to no relief are beginning to become ruthless and I find myself completely surrendering to the heat of the day and giving up on being able to achieve even the easiest of tasks.
After lunch I find myself seeking refuge in Herby Cottage, laying my body down on my white bed sheets with the fan blowing waves of air over me. I read until my eyes begin to become heavy and then sleep envelops me and I pass the heat of the day by dreaming of cooler places. Inevitably I wake in a sweat and then need a cool shower to bring myself back to life.
And with only the promise of more hot days ahead, as August, the hottest month of the year looms just around the corner I find myself wishing away summer and hoping upon hoping that the winter would hurray up and arrive already!
7.25.2009
Bella Toscana.....Part 1…..Time Flies!
Well time has certainly seemed to slip by. I can’t believe it is nearing the end of July already. So much has happened here at Patrignone over the last few months to fill you all in on. We have had hot air balloon festivals, weddings and many many guests come and go at the Villa already. Potty training has begun! I have had Aussie friends come to visit me, spent weekends camping on the southern Tuscan beaches with all the holidaying Italians and recently spent 5 days on the Italian Riviera, soaking up the sun and exploring the hinterland behind the hustle and bustle of the coast. Summers Arrival
Summer seemed to arrive early this year and then go and come again with the regularity of a mother swallow tooing and froing from her nest. The change was swift; although it did take some time for the heat of the days to settle. Almost as if summer had realised her rudeness in disrupting springs glory she retreated periodically until it was her time to fully shine and take the limelight. All through June, thunderstorms swarmed menacingly around us, just as they had done last year. One storm brought such large hail stones, some farmers were left with nothing but bare branches on their young vines and with the devastating knowledge that they would have no grapes this year to harvest. The rumble of thunder in the distance became our old friend and it was a constant reminder to be on guard because in a matter of moments we would have to hurray to batten down the hatches to keep the rain from pouring in yet again. But now as we head into the hottest month of the year, and with summer shining in all her glory we are blessed with endless beautiful, hot sunny days.
Patrignone gets Wired!
One of the most exciting developments to have happened at the Villa over the winter was the installation of a better internet connection. We have finally been brought into the 21st century and I am yet again able to connect my laptop and bring it to life with news of the outside world which we seem so easily able to avoid here. Although the wireless connection only reaches as far as the courtyard and the commercial kitchen I am able to finally use skype and send emails far more easily than before, allowing myself to feel less isolated and capable of staying in touch with the rest of the world. It’s hard to imagine how we ever survived without the internet. For a traveller like myself, whom decided to venture to the other side of the world only a mere 20 odd years ago, staying in touch with friends and family and being able to connect to their lives in their homelands would have been impossible. Which is why I am ever so grateful for its existence here now while I allow myself to be as far away from friends and family as it is possible.
Hot Air Balloon Festival
In May we were lucky enough to have Simon’s ex-business partner bring a group of friends and his magnificent hot air balloon to the Villa for our very own mini hot air balloon festival to join the larger festival which was happening around Tuscany during that week. Each morning at the crack of dawn he flew his hot air balloon from various destinations around Tuscany. All the guests staying at the Villa were offered flights, if they could brave the early morning call on their relaxing holidays. My flight was offered to me the morning we were due to take off from our very own fields here at Patrignone. At the crack of dawn we took the balloon to one of our top fields were we took flight and were able to view our Villa and surrounding olive fields from above. What an experience to float over our land while the sun was rising. To see it all in its magnificence. As I floated over the patchwork landscape of the Tuscan countryside it was hard to grasp how I had culminated a life in which I found myself travelling through the air, in one of the oldest methods of air travel over a landscape which in itself holds so much history and tradition. And I was being paid to do this!
Carla’s back
Carla (Sam’s Nonna, Simon’s Mum and owner of the Villa and friend to all) has returned to her beloved Tuscan Villa for yet another summer after her whirlwind year of chasing the sun from northern to southern hemispheres. After leaving Tuscany here in September last year she ventured to the UK, to Arizona, USA, then onto Mexico, before finally arriving back to us here in Italy for the northern hemisphere’s summer. What a life!
I love spending time with Carla, we sit up late into the night polishing off bottles of Chianti wine, chatting about everything and anything. She is an incredible woman who has achieved much in her lifetime and I feel I have much to learn from her. It is not hard to hold respect for someone and listen as she tells me her many stories and tales of how she developed the villa and how she views life now, after all her hard work is done. She is certainly a character whom we love having around the Villa and miss dearly when she ventures off for her next adventure.
Some familiar faces
In June I was lucky enough to have some familiar faces come and visit me here at the Villa for a brief few days. Dave and Alicia, friends from Melbourne joined me here at the villa and gave me the first hugs from home in a long time. We hung out at the villa, took day trips to Siena, Florence, Fiesole and San Gimignano. I loved being able to chat away on the terrace with them and being able to share my life here at the villa with them. A little piece of home to come and reconnect with was wonderful. They were horrified by my new Australian/English mixed accent and tried their hardest to beat it out of me. I was sad to see them leave, as having friends and family around me is something I miss dearly.
Fireflies
Fireflies are one of lives most extraordinary masterpieces. They exist for only a very short few weeks in May each year, and are very small beetle like insects which when they flap their wings emit a bright fluorescent light. They are living fairy lights! They turn woods at night into a theatre of flashing moving fairy lights. A venture in the middle of the night into the olive fields which surround the villa brings a light show like no other. In the silence of the night and with only the moon to cut through the darkness of the Tuscan countryside the little fireflies create a magical experience as they flash and flutter amongst the shadows of the olive trees. Just beautiful.
7.22.2009
The Same Yet Different
And now as I return to Herby Cottage for a second summer I can see the transformation clearer than ever. The Kim that lived here last year within these four walls fighting her inner demons and delving deep within herself in order to find an identity fought an almighty battle, which can still be felt within these stone walls. Her heavy heart and negative thoughts are still palpable all around me as I lay my weary head down, tired from the ski season. Self loathing and obsessive behaviours are still lurking in amongst the shadows, lingering around in the hope of latching back onto their friendly host which fed them so well last year. But this year they do not recognise her and soon decide to pack up their bags and go in search of a new host to haunt.
It has certainly been a wonderful yet confronting experience coming face to face with the two very different Kim’s that have lived within these 4 stone walls which I call home for 7 months of the year. I knew the five months spent working a ski season had changed me, but I wasn’t quite ready to witness the changes so drastically in front of my very own eyes as I walked through those doors. The contrast has been a confirmation that I have grown and become a stronger, happier, more independent woman. I feel more confident than I ever have before and now understand my capabilities, passions and strengths, which were only just beginning to dawn on me as I left Tuscany in October last year.
So, with depression and loneliness dealt with for now, I am able to admire Italy with new eyes and feel content with the knowledge that happy people surround me in every direction and know that it is a sign that I too am happy. And now I am able to get on with the art of living here in Bella Toscana Ancora.
It has certainly been a wonderful yet confronting experience coming face to face with the two very different Kim’s that have lived within these 4 stone walls which I call home for 7 months of the year. I knew the five months spent working a ski season had changed me, but I wasn’t quite ready to witness the changes so drastically in front of my very own eyes as I walked through those doors. The contrast has been a confirmation that I have grown and become a stronger, happier, more independent woman. I feel more confident than I ever have before and now understand my capabilities, passions and strengths, which were only just beginning to dawn on me as I left Tuscany in October last year.
So, with depression and loneliness dealt with for now, I am able to admire Italy with new eyes and feel content with the knowledge that happy people surround me in every direction and know that it is a sign that I too am happy. And now I am able to get on with the art of living here in Bella Toscana Ancora.
Dark Clouds Descending
Yes, this subject is very personal. Yes, it is very private, yet somehow I feel I should bring it to light. Many of us unnecessarily hide from our demons, living within a world of silence and suffering due to never seeking the refuge of a helping hand and that is why depression is still a taboo subject, even today, especially in the young. As a Naturopath I treated many patients with depression, many of them as young as 14 whom had been clinically diagnosed and consequently medicated. I hope by highlighting my own plight with my demons I can continue to help people, by simply just bringing light to it and not allowing it to continue living within the shadows.
Before I tell my tale I should firstly begin by explaining how my own naivety led me to perceive depression in the past. I wrongly believed that there was a weaker ‘type’ of person whom chose to become depressed due to their life circumstances, rather than it being an actual condition which could strike even the strongest of individuals. Judgingly, I believed it was a state of mind which you could control and free yourself of easily. I believed I possessed a happy disposition and optimism which would exclude me from the clutches of depression. I simply thought it would never happen to me. Of course I was in denial for a long time about my own depression as I couldn’t admit to myself that I had chosen it. I had allowed a victimised persona to infiltrate my life, which perpetuated a depressed and lonely state of mind within me.
I say I was in denial about my depression but rather I was conscious of its presence the whole time. I just simply couldn’t admit it to myself, which is so often the case. My self loathing thoughts and obsessive behaviours, which I can now see as the symptoms of my mild depression became a part of my life without me wanting to acknowledge their presence. They seemed to sneak in through my back door. And who knows, if they had have come knocking on my front door to announce themselves, I am not sure I would have even had the strength to turn them away anyway. I was already so battered from the storm which seemed to be following me around that I am sure I would have said “Oh Hello, self loathing, low self-esteem and obsessive behaviours, How are you? Come on in, I haven’t met you before!”
It’s when you’re lost in these woods of depression, that it can take you a while to realise that you ARE actually lost. For the longest time, you can convince yourself that you’ve just wandered a few feet off the path, and that you’ll find your way back to the trail any moment now. That you’re just having a few off days and you will resume back to your normal self any minute now. Then night falls again and again, and you still have no idea where you are and its time to admit that you have bewildered yourself so far off the path that you don’t even know from which direction the sun rises anymore. It is like being sucked into a dark tunnel where everything is tarnished a dark charcoal colour. Everything is the same yet you can’t feel the way you used to about it all. The dark clouds just seem to follow you around making everything seem darker than usual.
It still deludes me as to how I missed all the classic signs of mild depression in my own nature at the time. As a Naturopath I was well versed in looking for signs of depression in patients, but again as often is the case, admitting to oneself that they have all the classic signs of mild depression is like asking someone to pull out their own two front teeth. No one wants to put themselves through that pain just as much as they want to be labelled with depression, especially someone whom doesn’t believe it could happen to them, as was the case for me. I thought of it as having to stand on a pedestal in front of all my peers with their full attention and having to admit my own defeat and failure. Then having to stand down from that pedestal with the weight of the shame from it all on my shoulders.
Once self loathing and obsessive behaviours had slipped in my back door I knew full well I was depressed although even then I still would never admit it to myself. The very notion of admitting defeat was like admitting to myself that I had become one of those weak people and that thought alone was worse than actually believing I was depressed. I didn’t want to be weak more than anything else in the world. Even the reasoning part of my mind trying to explain to my ego that it was ‘depressed’ was enough for my ego to stamp my foot down onto the ground with force, declaring that “I was NOT depressed!” I allowed my stubborn and arrogant view of depression to form a barrier against my own plight because I was simply too proud to admit that I had become weak enough to choose it.
It was a battle which I carried around with me everywhere. The word battle, is actually quite an apt word for the way I dealt with my depression because as I have said, I was conscious of its presence constantly around me, infiltrating my personality, and halting my life causing me to become consumed by its clutches. Depression sapped all of my strength and replaced it with weaker, less attractive traits such an insecurity and low self esteem. I found I had no self discipline anymore and perspective was simply no longer a part of my vocabulary. I was struggling through life feeling lonely and inadequate. I had become completely stagnant with my own thoughts festering within me. I couldn’t make a clear decision and I felt like I was in reverse most of the time. Life tripped along like this for many months until I was able to build up enough courage to face up to my demons, letting them know full well that I was going to break free of their shackles, and I was going to do it all on my own, I didn’t want help from anyone around me. I knew it was a fight I had to take on my own and I would win even if it meant I did have to pull out my two front teeth! Loosing was not an option!
There aren’t too many people who can say that they have been able to witness their transformation as dramatically as I have. Nor gone to such drastic measures to combat their depression. I took on my depression like it was the fight of my life. I made a life changing decision to leave my homeland and begin a new life in a foreign country in the hope of being able to finally throw off its shackles. I crossed oceans and travelled tens of thousands of miles to try and finally escape my demons. I hoped that they couldn’t swim the distance or track me down in my new found life. I wanted to box them up and leave them where they had come from. Although deep within me I knew this was not going to be the case, I knew they would track me down eventually, as all demons do. I was just hoping to travel to a new place where perspective would be able to infiltrate my life and by actualising my dream of living in Italy, I would give myself enough happiness and strength to begin to fight them off properly.
As I expected, depression and loneliness did eventually track me down after only a couple of months of being in Italy. The novelty and the overwhelming excitement of such an extraordinary change in my life, the happiness in which I found from setting myself free and the strength which came with making such a decision weren’t enough to keep my familiar friends of the last 18 months at bay. They returned to reacquaint themselves with me yet again. I was feeling contented within my new scene, Italy had certainly given me the space and perspective I had longed for, but the long days spent in the company of my thoughts and the endless lonely nights allowed my two menacing friends to infiltrate my life yet again.
I wasn’t really surprised to see them, I knew they would track me down eventually, although I just wished they hadn’t have found me in such a beautiful part of the world. My haven from the rest of the world was giving me the rest I needed and already my thoughts had become clearer. I had fought off the lonely nights of insomnia and began to allow rhythm back into my body. But I knew they needed to be dealt with properly. Italy was going to become the battle ground in which I would take on these demons for good. They had followed me across oceans, thousands of miles wide, and I was not going to let them follow me around any further! Although this wasn’t going to happen without a struggle.
The lonely nights and in a place where I had I all the time in the world to sit and contemplate, I got to thinking too much and then my thoughts turned to brooding and that is when they would catch up with me. Depression and loneliness stripped me of any joy I had been carrying with me. Depression even confiscated my identity, as he always does. Then loneliness would start interrogating me, which I constantly dreaded because it could go on for hours, until I was so worn out by my thoughts that I became exhausted. Loneliness, although polite, was relentless; he always tripped me up eventually. He asked me why I thought running away to Italy like a scared little kid was going to make me happy, he asked me how I planned to go through life running away from my demons and what would become of me if I continued to live like this? Loneliness made it quite clear that I couldn’t hide from my demons anymore and that the only way forward was to find myself. To regain an identity which my demons wouldn’t be able to recognise or infiltrate.
This was obviously not as simple as a new hair cut or a new wardrobe. These demons couldn’t be fooled. Regaining my identity meant stripping away every layer, right down to the very core of myself. Characteristics of my personality, beliefs, values and morals were all examined and redefined. The inner machinery which made me tick was given a good clean out and anything I didn’t like I discarded. I discovered what a large number of factors constitute a single human being. Realising how many layers we operate on and how very many influences we receive from our minds, our bodies, our histories, our families, our cities, and our souls. I came to feel that my depression was probably some ever-shifting assortment of all those factors, and probably also included some stuff I couldn’t name or claim. So I faced the fight at every level. I assaulted myself by combing through each and every piece of myself in order to try and understand why I had allowed myself to take on that victimised persona. Why I had blamed those around me and the circumstances which had began to shape my life. It was a fairly ugly time in which I delved deep into the pits of who I am in order to redefine and re-acquaint myself with my own identity.
And as the pain poured put of me and I could feel the shackles finally becoming looser around my limbs. The endless crying began to subside. I no longer found myself curled up in the same old corner of my same old bed in tears yet again over the same old repetition of sorrowful thoughts. I found a new strength had begun to consume me. I could feel the shackles being removed and the freedom in being able to move my own body the way I wanted to again, without being hampered by the weight of those heavy shackles anymore. I was free and in control again.
When I looked in the mirror I began to like what I saw rather than look away in disgust. Self loathing was beginning to retreat out the back door. The familiarity of self confidence and independence walked straight back in the front door announcing they were home again. My obsessive behaviours were being replaced by the familiar traits of myself whom had been in hibernation, in the hope of preserving themselves from being damaged. Determination and my capable nature got to work again with my new clear decisions which were flowing from every part of my brain. It was during this time that I could feel my new identity was ready to take on the world again. I felt renewed and ready to allow fun into my life. I was craving it more than anything else. I wanted to allow my new found happiness to shine and create a world in which my happiness became so addictive and charismatic to everyone around me. I wanted more than anything to be that person that everyone would look at and instantly feel envious of for being able to shine so brightly.
Depression itself is a lonely place. It is a personal battle with oneself and without doubt the only person whom is able to make those dark clouds disappear is oneself. That is generally why when people do finally throw away those shackles they find themselves to be much stronger individuals than they ever were before. When they finally break through those dark clouds and find the sunshine again, everything seems to carry a hue which is brighter and more beautiful than before. It is quite a euphoric experience in which defines and refines an individual. It can be just as good as a good old fashioned spring cleaning or a sort out of ones wardrobe. But just like with anything, I now understand that happiness is something which needs to be worked at constantly. Retreating back to those dark thoughts and remembering those dark clouds is something which I allow to happen periodically in order to appreciate what I have now. I once prayed and asked for something to make me happy again and now I find myself continuing to be grateful and asking for it to continue, knowing full well that I hold the key to my own happiness.
Have you ever stared out into the rain?
Thought the clouds were meant for you?
Have you ever screamed out into the dark,
For these demons to disappear?
Before I tell my tale I should firstly begin by explaining how my own naivety led me to perceive depression in the past. I wrongly believed that there was a weaker ‘type’ of person whom chose to become depressed due to their life circumstances, rather than it being an actual condition which could strike even the strongest of individuals. Judgingly, I believed it was a state of mind which you could control and free yourself of easily. I believed I possessed a happy disposition and optimism which would exclude me from the clutches of depression. I simply thought it would never happen to me. Of course I was in denial for a long time about my own depression as I couldn’t admit to myself that I had chosen it. I had allowed a victimised persona to infiltrate my life, which perpetuated a depressed and lonely state of mind within me.
I say I was in denial about my depression but rather I was conscious of its presence the whole time. I just simply couldn’t admit it to myself, which is so often the case. My self loathing thoughts and obsessive behaviours, which I can now see as the symptoms of my mild depression became a part of my life without me wanting to acknowledge their presence. They seemed to sneak in through my back door. And who knows, if they had have come knocking on my front door to announce themselves, I am not sure I would have even had the strength to turn them away anyway. I was already so battered from the storm which seemed to be following me around that I am sure I would have said “Oh Hello, self loathing, low self-esteem and obsessive behaviours, How are you? Come on in, I haven’t met you before!”
It’s when you’re lost in these woods of depression, that it can take you a while to realise that you ARE actually lost. For the longest time, you can convince yourself that you’ve just wandered a few feet off the path, and that you’ll find your way back to the trail any moment now. That you’re just having a few off days and you will resume back to your normal self any minute now. Then night falls again and again, and you still have no idea where you are and its time to admit that you have bewildered yourself so far off the path that you don’t even know from which direction the sun rises anymore. It is like being sucked into a dark tunnel where everything is tarnished a dark charcoal colour. Everything is the same yet you can’t feel the way you used to about it all. The dark clouds just seem to follow you around making everything seem darker than usual.
It still deludes me as to how I missed all the classic signs of mild depression in my own nature at the time. As a Naturopath I was well versed in looking for signs of depression in patients, but again as often is the case, admitting to oneself that they have all the classic signs of mild depression is like asking someone to pull out their own two front teeth. No one wants to put themselves through that pain just as much as they want to be labelled with depression, especially someone whom doesn’t believe it could happen to them, as was the case for me. I thought of it as having to stand on a pedestal in front of all my peers with their full attention and having to admit my own defeat and failure. Then having to stand down from that pedestal with the weight of the shame from it all on my shoulders.
Once self loathing and obsessive behaviours had slipped in my back door I knew full well I was depressed although even then I still would never admit it to myself. The very notion of admitting defeat was like admitting to myself that I had become one of those weak people and that thought alone was worse than actually believing I was depressed. I didn’t want to be weak more than anything else in the world. Even the reasoning part of my mind trying to explain to my ego that it was ‘depressed’ was enough for my ego to stamp my foot down onto the ground with force, declaring that “I was NOT depressed!” I allowed my stubborn and arrogant view of depression to form a barrier against my own plight because I was simply too proud to admit that I had become weak enough to choose it.
It was a battle which I carried around with me everywhere. The word battle, is actually quite an apt word for the way I dealt with my depression because as I have said, I was conscious of its presence constantly around me, infiltrating my personality, and halting my life causing me to become consumed by its clutches. Depression sapped all of my strength and replaced it with weaker, less attractive traits such an insecurity and low self esteem. I found I had no self discipline anymore and perspective was simply no longer a part of my vocabulary. I was struggling through life feeling lonely and inadequate. I had become completely stagnant with my own thoughts festering within me. I couldn’t make a clear decision and I felt like I was in reverse most of the time. Life tripped along like this for many months until I was able to build up enough courage to face up to my demons, letting them know full well that I was going to break free of their shackles, and I was going to do it all on my own, I didn’t want help from anyone around me. I knew it was a fight I had to take on my own and I would win even if it meant I did have to pull out my two front teeth! Loosing was not an option!
There aren’t too many people who can say that they have been able to witness their transformation as dramatically as I have. Nor gone to such drastic measures to combat their depression. I took on my depression like it was the fight of my life. I made a life changing decision to leave my homeland and begin a new life in a foreign country in the hope of being able to finally throw off its shackles. I crossed oceans and travelled tens of thousands of miles to try and finally escape my demons. I hoped that they couldn’t swim the distance or track me down in my new found life. I wanted to box them up and leave them where they had come from. Although deep within me I knew this was not going to be the case, I knew they would track me down eventually, as all demons do. I was just hoping to travel to a new place where perspective would be able to infiltrate my life and by actualising my dream of living in Italy, I would give myself enough happiness and strength to begin to fight them off properly.
As I expected, depression and loneliness did eventually track me down after only a couple of months of being in Italy. The novelty and the overwhelming excitement of such an extraordinary change in my life, the happiness in which I found from setting myself free and the strength which came with making such a decision weren’t enough to keep my familiar friends of the last 18 months at bay. They returned to reacquaint themselves with me yet again. I was feeling contented within my new scene, Italy had certainly given me the space and perspective I had longed for, but the long days spent in the company of my thoughts and the endless lonely nights allowed my two menacing friends to infiltrate my life yet again.
I wasn’t really surprised to see them, I knew they would track me down eventually, although I just wished they hadn’t have found me in such a beautiful part of the world. My haven from the rest of the world was giving me the rest I needed and already my thoughts had become clearer. I had fought off the lonely nights of insomnia and began to allow rhythm back into my body. But I knew they needed to be dealt with properly. Italy was going to become the battle ground in which I would take on these demons for good. They had followed me across oceans, thousands of miles wide, and I was not going to let them follow me around any further! Although this wasn’t going to happen without a struggle.
The lonely nights and in a place where I had I all the time in the world to sit and contemplate, I got to thinking too much and then my thoughts turned to brooding and that is when they would catch up with me. Depression and loneliness stripped me of any joy I had been carrying with me. Depression even confiscated my identity, as he always does. Then loneliness would start interrogating me, which I constantly dreaded because it could go on for hours, until I was so worn out by my thoughts that I became exhausted. Loneliness, although polite, was relentless; he always tripped me up eventually. He asked me why I thought running away to Italy like a scared little kid was going to make me happy, he asked me how I planned to go through life running away from my demons and what would become of me if I continued to live like this? Loneliness made it quite clear that I couldn’t hide from my demons anymore and that the only way forward was to find myself. To regain an identity which my demons wouldn’t be able to recognise or infiltrate.
This was obviously not as simple as a new hair cut or a new wardrobe. These demons couldn’t be fooled. Regaining my identity meant stripping away every layer, right down to the very core of myself. Characteristics of my personality, beliefs, values and morals were all examined and redefined. The inner machinery which made me tick was given a good clean out and anything I didn’t like I discarded. I discovered what a large number of factors constitute a single human being. Realising how many layers we operate on and how very many influences we receive from our minds, our bodies, our histories, our families, our cities, and our souls. I came to feel that my depression was probably some ever-shifting assortment of all those factors, and probably also included some stuff I couldn’t name or claim. So I faced the fight at every level. I assaulted myself by combing through each and every piece of myself in order to try and understand why I had allowed myself to take on that victimised persona. Why I had blamed those around me and the circumstances which had began to shape my life. It was a fairly ugly time in which I delved deep into the pits of who I am in order to redefine and re-acquaint myself with my own identity.
And as the pain poured put of me and I could feel the shackles finally becoming looser around my limbs. The endless crying began to subside. I no longer found myself curled up in the same old corner of my same old bed in tears yet again over the same old repetition of sorrowful thoughts. I found a new strength had begun to consume me. I could feel the shackles being removed and the freedom in being able to move my own body the way I wanted to again, without being hampered by the weight of those heavy shackles anymore. I was free and in control again.
When I looked in the mirror I began to like what I saw rather than look away in disgust. Self loathing was beginning to retreat out the back door. The familiarity of self confidence and independence walked straight back in the front door announcing they were home again. My obsessive behaviours were being replaced by the familiar traits of myself whom had been in hibernation, in the hope of preserving themselves from being damaged. Determination and my capable nature got to work again with my new clear decisions which were flowing from every part of my brain. It was during this time that I could feel my new identity was ready to take on the world again. I felt renewed and ready to allow fun into my life. I was craving it more than anything else. I wanted to allow my new found happiness to shine and create a world in which my happiness became so addictive and charismatic to everyone around me. I wanted more than anything to be that person that everyone would look at and instantly feel envious of for being able to shine so brightly.
Depression itself is a lonely place. It is a personal battle with oneself and without doubt the only person whom is able to make those dark clouds disappear is oneself. That is generally why when people do finally throw away those shackles they find themselves to be much stronger individuals than they ever were before. When they finally break through those dark clouds and find the sunshine again, everything seems to carry a hue which is brighter and more beautiful than before. It is quite a euphoric experience in which defines and refines an individual. It can be just as good as a good old fashioned spring cleaning or a sort out of ones wardrobe. But just like with anything, I now understand that happiness is something which needs to be worked at constantly. Retreating back to those dark thoughts and remembering those dark clouds is something which I allow to happen periodically in order to appreciate what I have now. I once prayed and asked for something to make me happy again and now I find myself continuing to be grateful and asking for it to continue, knowing full well that I hold the key to my own happiness.
7.07.2009
All I have to say about Milan….
Fashion, glamour, furniture design, money, status, busy, chaotic! And an amazing Japanese restaurant!
Bella Toscana Ancora
Arriving back to Tuscany and to my simple, small stone ‘herby’ cottage everything seemed exactly as I left it. I slipped back into life at the Villa perfectly and found my spot within my little Italian family, as if my 7 month absence hadn’t existed at all.
Resuming the au pair role, Sam and I quickly reformed the bond that we had last year. He was quick to forget all about his Mum and began pulling me around the house, showing me his new toys and wanting to hold my hand wherever we went. His excitement at having me back in his life was wonderful to witness and proved that the 7 months I had spent with him last year in 2008 weren’t just lost in time but were real memories which he had formed and begun to remember again.
He is exactly the same as when I left him, although now 2 and half years of age, he hasn’t changed nearly as much as I thought he would, which is lovely. He is just craving to talk constantly and learn. He copies every word or sentence I say, which is just hilarious. Verity and I will be chatting away while driving to do the weekly shop and suddenly from the back seat of the car we hear “Oh for goodness sake!!” and quickly realise Sam has repeated something that Verity or I have said about the traffic only a few minutes previously. He certainly hasn’t lost any of his funny nature nor his impatient, stubborn temperament either!
Upon returning to the Villa, the lazy day I was dreaming of, relaxing, unpacking and sleeping off the wicked tiredness that seemed to be lapping at my feet constantly following the ski season didn’t seem to happen. I slipped straight back into the routine of changing nappy’s (yep, Sam is still wearing nappy’s, with no signs of wanting to be potty trained yet!), eating at set meal times, memorising Harvey’s school timetable and times he needed to be picked up from the bus stop, carrying tissues in the back of my pocket to wipe up Sam’s runny nose or his inevitable mess, playing children’s games, nap and milk times, and listening to Sam’s constant babble while trying to decipher his baby talk conversations with him.
Life was back to normal very quickly and the busy yet relaxed days, which I love so much at the Villa, were again part of my life for yet another summer. With the only difference being that Verity is pregnant again! She is expecting her third child in October which is very exciting for all of us. We found out the sex of the baby this week but I am not going to tell! I am going to keep you all in suspense, making you all wait till October for the announcement of a little brother or sister for Sam and Harvey to play with.
As I can hear most of you asking the question “Will she stay on for another season to look after the newborn?” Sadly I have decided to not return next year, and Verity has already begun the process of finding a replacement for my position. I have decided to take my travels to the southern hemisphere following yet another season on the ski slopes of France this winter. Like I have said, I have fallen in love with the lifestyle within the Alps and hope to be able to follow the winter from North to South and join the fun times of the slopes of New Zealand next year. I have already begun the process of finding a new position for the winter ahead here in Europe and hope to have things finalised soon with a wonderful company who run two chalets within the ski resort, Morzine in France. Stay tuned for the details…
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)