The Kimba Chronicles

Holism

2011-08-25T18:11:00.000+01:00

“Just as there exists in writing a literal truth and a poetic truth, there also exists in a human being a literal anatomy and a poetic anatomy. One you can see, one you can only feel. One is made of bones and flesh, the other is made of energy, memory and faith.” But they are both equally true and must live in harmony.”

The land of contradictions!

2011-08-25T18:03:00.000+01:00

Italy! Never have I encountered a country with as many contradictions as there are Mafia gods or types of pasta!

Italy seems to live by its contradictions!

Without them I fear Italy would simply not survive.

Only Italians could have invented a language where the same word ‘perche’ can mean both, because & why!?

Within the paradigms of North & South

There exist the extremes of Wealth or Poverty,

New or Old Traditions, Fast or Slow, Beautiful or Ugly,

Innocence, Beauty & Power against Lies, destruction & pain.

Two extremes of everything,

Nothing existing in between,

Italians are either one or the other,

With no room for the middle.

I am convinced Italians see it as their god given right to be able to change their minds whenever they see fit

To change the rules to benefit their situation at any given time and then revert back again whenever they choose.

Without even a thought to the hypocrisy of it all.

I am sure this must be where Italian bureaucracy comes from!

There are laws written to allow the contradictions for gods’ sake!

Yet it’s the bureaucracy that makes Italy so hard to live in.

Nothing is ever straight forward.

Even simple dealings with the health or education systems always without fail leave you wanting to pull your hair out at the sheer stupidity of it all!

Take for example the Italian postal service (If you can call it a service!)

On the surface it seems to be a functioning, organised system, but it is deeply deceiving to the eye.

One thing you have to understand is that post in Italy is not a given.

You can never trust that you will receive your parcels.

All you can do is put it out of your mind and live in hope that it will arrive safely or not safely at all!

It’s like a probability equation.

Your considered lucky if you receive any more than 50% of your post!

And anything above that and you’re pushing your luck!

A String of thoughts...

2011-08-25T16:54:00.000+01:00

Leftovers, in their less visible form are known to us simply as memories. Stored in the refrigerator of the mind and the cupboard of the heart.

Peace is not something you wish for; it’s something you make. Something you do, something you are and something you give away.

Don’t worry that children never listen to you; worry that they are always watching you.

If you break your neck, if you have nothing to eat, if your house is on fire, then you got a problem. Everything else is mere inconvenience.

It will be a great day when our hospitals and schools have all the money they need and our air force has to have a bake-sale to buy a bomber!

The world does not need more tourists who ride buses clicking their cameras. The world as it is needs more of those who will love it enough to change it with what they have, where they are, now.

Attraversiamo...

2011-08-25T16:38:00.000+01:00

By this time tomorrow I will have set off to cross my twelfth border into a new country.

It’s at this point, roughly 24 hours before I begin to depart, that I start to get the first pangs of excitement. It’s in these moments I truly know I am meant to be an explorer.

With the knowledge I will soon enter a new culture, with another language, another currency, a new landscape to discover, I find myself bouncing with the anticipation at the thought of a new unknown to explore.

The sense of adventure is what gets me.

I find it captivating and exhilarating all at the same time.

The thought of being able to explore a new unknown and take the time to understand its cultures and people.

I get a real thrill when given the chance to see how people of other countries and cultures live their lives.

I seek to find the similarities or differences in their lives to others.

Isn’t it fascinating how we can all be of the same race yet because of our surroundings be so utterly different?

2011-08-24T13:41:00.003+01:00

A quote I came across while trying to curb my ignorance to the experiences of the humble little weed. While researching its affects (without actually researching its affects, if you know what I mean)....

“Icon for the faithful, a windfall for the glib, a bonus for under-employed experts, a thrill for the naive, a whipping boy for the ambitious, a tool for mystic explorers, a tantalising mystery for scientists, a cash crop for peasants; hassles, joy, shouting, tranquillity, apoplexy, fear, rebellion all wash over western man in the presence of the little green weed.”

Junior William Daniel Drake

2011-08-24T12:13:00.001+01:00

I believe that imagination holds greater worth than knowledge

That myth is more potent than history

I believe that dreams are more powerful than facts

That anticipation and hope are as exciting as the experience

That laughter is the only cure for grief

And I believe that love is stronger than death

2011-08-24T11:57:00.000+01:00

How can a simple new piece of furniture bring such happiness?

Am I just a little mad?

Expecting new furniture to be the answer to all my problems?

But I tell you, it seems to be true!

My beautiful 1950’s French Buffet has without a doubt transformed my life!

After its delivery last Monday my life has definitely become brighter, happier, more productive and of course more organised!

Could an original 1950’s French kitchen buffet (weirdly taking place in my bedroom) really have created all this clarity?

Maybe it’s the fact that everything in my life now has a place.

Chronicled in neat files

Knowing everything has a ‘place’

My mind can rest easy.

At the risk of indeed sounds a little mad,

I am going to give thanks to my beautiful new buffet

For bringing me such love, happiness and clarity to my life

Merci beaucoup!!

Relationship Disclaimer

2011-08-24T01:20:00.004+01:00

Please read before venturing into any relationship, with any species
Read slowly and carefully, making sure to read between the lines...

Life will defend itself no matter how small it is.
Every animal is ferocious and dangerous in nature when put under threat
It may not kill you but it will certainly injure you.
It will scratch you and bite you and you can look forward to a swollen, pus filled infection, a high fever and a ten-day stint in hospital.

All living things contain a measure of madness that moves them in strange, sometimes inexplicable ways.
This madness can be saving; it is part and parcel of the ability to adapt.
Without it no species would survive.

Whatever the reasons for wanting to escape, sane or insane, certainly or with doubt, we should realise that animals don’t escape to some WHERE but from some THING.
Something within their territory has frightened them – the intrusion of an enemy, a startling noise, the assault of a dominant animal – and set off a flight reaction.

Animals that escape go from the known into the unknown and if there is one thing that animals hate above all else, it is the unknown. They seek refuge in the first place that gives them a sense of security and they will become dangerous again to anyone who seeks to stand in between them and their reckoned ‘safe spot’!

(Why do I find myself thinking I could apply all these basic instinctual actions, characteristics and responses to a scorned woman?!)

Moral of the Story....

We are all alone in the end.
Only ourselves to look out for.
Selfish in nature, walking to our own agendas.
To ensure our own survival, life and gain in this world.
We all desire to be happy, fed and secure.

Borough Market

2011-08-24T00:32:00.002+01:00

If there is one place I run to for food inspiration in London, it has to be Borough Market.

As soon as I am in reach of its distinctive satisfying smells, I feel its deliciousness take me back to the essence of myself. My true love for food and how we are all connected by it, fills me with renewed passion and inspiration once again.

From the to-die-for brownies, warming curries, mulled wine and roast pork rolls. Sweet Turkish delights and artesian chocolates make me feel all is well in the world.

So it seems, my world is directly hinged on the fact that if delicious food like these can still be found right here in my favourite London destination, I am in the land of happiness :-)

Pre-Occupied

2011-08-24T00:07:00.004+01:00

Time, in its illusive nature, quietly slips through our lives in its own mysterious way. I, myself have slipped in and out of its consciousness over the last year, and found that a large chunk of time has secretly slipped out the back door without me even noticing. Fortunately I can account this lost time to a project I have been working on for the last year, which has consistently, solidly, obsessively, consumed my time, energy and state of mind.

Only in the moments when I have found myself peeping up from my latest infatuation to survey the surface of my life, have I consciously been able to tap into times presence around me.

So, it is now, as I peer up from my desk once again, to take stock of things, do I notice how time seems to have mysteriously slipped away from me, and taken with it, old passions; sacrificed due to my latest project.

The hardest hit of these talked about passions has been my blog, because it seems fair to say, I have literally been distracted writing something else!

My latest obsession isn’t a new job, a new baby or renovation project (which could all sufficiently become good excuses for dedicating large amounts of time to).

Nope, my latest project is the compilation of a new and exciting manuscript. A recipe book -come- travellers memoir, showcasing recipes I have either cooked, or experienced along my travels, intertwined with my very own photography from four different countries around the world. Called ‘Suitcases of Recipes’ it is a five part travel memoir with delicious recipes from Australia, Tuscany, Sicily, France and London.

It has become my labour of love, in which I have invested my focus and thought into, letting it consume my life.

My aim and purpose for the book is to inspire people to become passionate about food and travel, to seek new destinations, experience new cultures, and marvel in the face of adventure. To teach people that discovery is a lifelong passion that we should all embrace.

And all this hard work and lost time may finally be about to pay off as some recent interest from a Norwegian publisher means that I have my first publisher on board and the flicker of hope that this is all about to become real....

So stay tuned.

Home Sweet Home in London

2011-03-04T21:33:00.008Z

I return to London with a healthy glow from a sundrenched week skiing in France. How a week filled with beautiful vistas, joyous days on the slopes, the blissful feeling of the sun penetrating my skin and lingering sunsets can make my return to London’s endless winter seem a particularly hard blow to take.

Back for the final push to the end of this my stubborn and seemingly endless first English winter, I find myself willing springs arrival, as a child wills Christmas day to come. Waiting impatiently for all the joy and special moments of such an event, I am growing relentless to feel the sunshine against my face once again, to see the trees turn to blossom and for the city to be filled with renewed hope and green tree lined streets. How I wish to put away my winter boots, gloves and heavy cumbersome jackets. I want the freedom of the warmer months to arrive and bring with it, my happy disposition which disappeared sometime back in January, in the deepest depths of the cold, grey, misery.

London...the strange place where the sun forgets to shine, a little planet unto itself. A micro-community so diverse you could at times mistake yourself for being in almost any country in the world. Who knew I could live a life without being surrounded by nature, without beaches to escape to, sand and surf, without sunsets or beautiful vistas. It’s not until you leave London, do you truly begin to comprehend exactly what this all consuming city doesn’t give to its dwellers.

But the one thing this city has given me is a place to call home. It has gone some way to giving me the happiness and contentment I was searching for, allowing me to rest my travellers feet, unpack my suitcases and enjoy the people around me. To settle and enjoy the mundane again. But London and I would never be friends forever. London and I would never be at peace with each other, we would always be having an argument. I don’t understand its essence and it doesn’t understand or appreciate mine. It seems I have made a mutual agreement with London; we don’t understand each other, yet me tolerate each other’s attitudes.

And since I have now given a years’ worth of rent, plus council tax and transport costs to this city I feel I am at liberty to tell you how I really feel about London. From my first impressions, observations and experiences of London, I feel I have justified my right to express my attitudes towards this rich, iconic Mecca.

My first observations of London were taken from the view of my window seat on the 452 bus. My journey to and from work each day, through Notting Hill, High St Kensington, past the Royal Albert Hall and Hyde Park, through Knightsbridge, past Harvey Nichols and the shops of Sloane Street, over the Thames by way of the Chelsea bridge, alongside Battersea Park to my first home in Clapham, I watched as London happened around me. What struck me most severely was the cut throat nature of its inhabitants. Everyone seemed to be beating to the sound of their own agenda; determined to the point of being mean about it. I quickly learnt that only the strong, savvy and opportunistic make it in London.

It’s a place that drives you. You can’t be lazy in London, because it won’t let you. London demands the best of everything, including its inhabitants. It’s not a second class city; only the best make it and survive. Those that try, yet fail, usually fall by the wayside or get eaten up and spat out by its fast and relentless pace.

Everyone is striving for something, someone, someMORE. Never content, you can see it in people’s faces, by the way they walk. The march of the London pavements oozes an awe of success, money, ambition and drive. It’s harsh, draining and relentless in its daily challenges.

Yet everyone wants a piece of London, to be where the action is, part of the hype and bustle of such a notorious place. To capitalise, to network, to feel a part of something bigger and better, to walk the streets with celebrities, to taste the opulence and history of its long standing endurance.

Like any city, London forces you to take the good with the bad. Such a double edged sword that swings both ways almost on an hourly basis. From the escapism of the theatre to the annoying and disruptive tube strikes, to the vast choice of everything you could ever wish for, to the incredible expense of it! To the wonderful location and proximity to mainland Europe and other desirable travel destinations, to the lack of any beauty or sunshine it gives to those that can’t escape its hollows. Living in London is never a win, win situation, but a constant fight to survive.

If I could go back to the simple, uncomplicated life of a ski resort or my siesta filled days of Tuscany, maybe I would, but for right now, London is teaching me patience, ambition, sacrifice, compromise and drive. And that’s why I am choosing to call it home, for now.

All I really need to know I learnt in Kindergarten....

2011-01-17T20:42:00.007Z

I walked into my local cafe and found this on the wall as i was sipping my latte. I loved it so much i wanted to share it.....

"All I REALLY need to know about how to live and what to do and how to be I learned in kindergarten.

Wisdom was not at the top of the graduate-school mountain, but there in the sand pile at Sunday school these are the things I learnt:

Share everything. Play fair.

Don’t hit people.

Put things back where you found them. Clean up your own mess.

Don’t take things that aren’t yours.

Say you’re sorry when you hurt somebody.

Wash your hands before you eat.

Flush.

Warm cookies and cold milk are good for you.

Live a balanced life – learn some and think some and draw and paint and sing and dance and play

And work every day some.

Take a nap every afternoon.

When you go out into the world, watch out for traffic,

Hold hands and stick together.

Be aware of wonder.

Remember the little seed in the Styrofoam cup:

The roots go down and the plant goes up and nobody really knows how or why, but we are all like that.

Goldfish and hamsters and white mice and even the little seed in the Styrofoam cup – they all die. So do we.

Everything you need to know is in there somewhere.

The golden rule and love and basic sanitation.

Ecology and politics and equality and sane living.

Take any of those items and extrapolate it into sophisticated adult terms and apply it to your family life or your work or your government or your world and it holds true and clear and firm.

Think what a better world it would be if the whole world had cookies and milk about three o’clock every afternoon and then lay down with our blankies for a nap.

Or if all governments had a basic policy to always put things back where they found them, and to clean up their own mess.

And it is still true, no matter how old you are – when you go out into the world, it is best to hold hands and stick together."

By Robert Fulghum

Be Careful What You Wish For....

2011-01-16T16:18:00.005Z

I have it etched into my wall in apricot coloured chalk....a constant reminder that the universe does actually listen.
So be careful what you say!!

Whether it’s good karma, fate, destiny or just a positive attitude and the ability to go out there and create what we want for ourselves, whatever it is, i can’t help but believe that i have the ability to use my thoughts to order what i want into my life.
All i have to do is ask!

Over the last few years i had begun to question my path in life and what it was that i truly wanted to create for myself. I scrutinised everything i had and consequently left a lot behind. I started afresh with new dreams and goals. A new path filled with new desires.

i honestly believe i achieved those new desires through the sheer power of vision and imagery. Its powerful stuff people!! So...be careful what you wish for!!!

The Come Down to Reality

2010-11-17T21:33:00.002Z

Well it has been some months since I last blogged. In fact it has been a seemingly fast 6 months! London seems to be a city where time is explicitly warped. Maybe it’s the shortened daylight hours or the sheer pace of the place, who knows! All i know is I once had hours to spend writing but those days seem to be of another life as life has yet again taken on a rhythm of its own. But i guess that is what happens when one comes to find a sense of normality. A settled life with everything that is routinely normal; a filled social calendar and rituals of daily life. Even the lifestyle of working a Monday to Friday job has been a new experience for me to get used to! But one i am relishing and enjoying. Its seems ‘the norm’ suits me once again and the lifestyle of the Alps and Tuscany has been able to lie happily in my memory without holding any significant lure to price my travelling shoes back on just yet. The gypsy still lies sleeping!

Another rather large distraction has occurred in my life over the last 6 months which has occupied a large part of my thoughts and time; happily cursing me with writers block and sweeping me off my feet. When one falls in love a huge amount of energy goes into creating this new chapter of your life. Of which the effect can seem as if your life has been turned upside down, shaken and reshaped. Accommodating a new other, a new city and lifestyle into my life have all happily distracted me from my once treasured dates with my laptop, but what lovely distractions they have been!

Walking on a Dream....

2010-04-25T21:34:00.001+01:00

As many of you know, my killer determination can often take on a life of its own in helping create or find opportunities wherever and whenever I choose to let it exert itself. My ambition and ability to create huge change within my life seems to happen with relative ease these days. All I ever need is a little of my unmistakable courage, a splash of life’s passion and a big slice of energy and I seem to be able to create a focus within me that cannot be silenced until every last detail of my desires and goals have been achieved. My ability to build a focus and consistently work towards it in a meticulously calculating way is sometimes quite shocking to me once I am left standing on the other side of it. I often put it down to luck, and I certainly feel a lot of it must be (thank god, it hasn’t run out yet!) but I do appreciate that a lot of what I do achieve comes down to my focus and knowing exactly what it is I am working towards.

And so here I am again... Standing on the other side of that killer determination, wondering how on earth I was able to create such a huge amount of change for myself yet again. With less than 24 hours before I find myself beginning the next adventure I simply cannot wait because this time I know the change I have created is the change that I really want. This is what I know I need and really want more than anything right now.

So whether it was luck or my determination or a mixture of the both I seem to have created a life for myself in London. A great new Job, a lovely apartment which I will sign the lease for on Tuesday, an amazing friend from Australia as my house mate, a new city to explore in a new country of residence for me and a wonderful new partner to share it all with. Normal life awaits me and I cannot wait to begin it.

My new job will see me become a private chef for a family who live in Notting Hill. The family are Norwegian and have three children under the age of ten. The hours are great; From Monday to Friday, 12-7pm, which will allow time for me to pursue my other passions and the best part will be having my weekends back! YAY! What a relief!

My lovely new apartment is in Parsons Green (SW6). Yes that’s right, Kimberly Parsons in Parsons Green!! Bec, my Australian house mate, whom I used to be in the same state volleyball team with fell in love with the Parsons Green, Fulham area. We fell in love with this apartment and cannot wait to move in. It is currently being renovated with new carpets going down and a brand new kitchen and bathroom to be installed also, thus we are very excited and feel lucky to have found exactly what we were looking for in our area of choice.

So it seems I have hit the trifecta! Is it actually possible for me to sit here and consider that I might just have it all? Everything I have wanted and desired seems to have materialised and now all that stands in my way of actually beginning my new adventure in London is one final night in Morzine.

I am hoping it isn’t all an illusion and I do find myself actually walking on this dream....

London Calling

2010-04-18T12:57:00.000+01:00

London has never been on my wish list as a destination of desire and certainly never a place I thought I would ever call home. The bustling city felt harsh and cold whenever I visited it. I once, not too long ago related it to like being in an Ant farm. And now I am deciding to become one of those ants!! I am about to become another face, another image in the collage of millions of other faces and images that make up London.

Never in my wildest dreams did I ever think I would become another token Aussie in London. Another ‘flamin gala’ to be found in one of those Australiana pubs of Sheperds Bush! But I am! And I can’t quite help but wonder how London will change me. Will it embrace me and allow me to see and feel its inner essence or will it leave me wanting to run screaming from its cold harsh depths? Will it give me a sense of belonging, a community atmosphere or just eat me up and spit me out just as it does to many of its dwellers trying to make it in the big smoke. Personally, I think I may find the answer in the knowledge that for all that is cold, harsh or brilliant about London it will change me for the good, better and worse!

A New Chapter...

2010-04-18T12:28:00.003+01:00

The need to put away my travelling shoes for a while has allowed me to think about what my next move will be. What skills I will now choose to use in the steps I take to find a base. How my migration story might play out, which country I choose to call home for a while and what I decide to do with my life after I put away the travellers’ shoes.

It seems my time travelling has given me two things. Firstly the time and perspective to work out what it is I am good at and what my true passions are. Secondly travelling seems to have given me the opportunities and experiences to learn new skills which I am now able to use and integrate into my now well developed passions.

As I brought in the new year, perched on an old stone bridge with the ice cold water running off the French Alps flowing below me, I realised it wasn’t the next destination I craved. Instead I craved a place to call home, I craved my friends and a life lived more purposefully than the selfish lifestyle of a traveller. And if I thought about having to deal with one more guest I feared I may flip out beyond the point of no return!

I realised I couldn’t continue along this lonely travellers path anymore. I had neither the energy nor desire to find a new adventure in which I would find myself surrounded by new people and a new place to explore and get to know. So with that said I went about and set myself New Year resolutions in the hope of curbing my loneliness and somewhere I could call home for as long as I desired.

The lure of normality and a place to call home won over in my mind which had been hardwired with the travellers’ mentality for the past 2 years. As the search for a normal life begun to control my thoughts I realised it was the small things about ‘normal life’ that I missed and had begun to crave again. Being able to enjoy weekends of leisure, Sunday lay ins, reading the newspaper (and being able to understand it), the luxury of joining a gym, shopping at the local fresh produce market, cooking simple single meals, nights out with friends and coffee from the friendly local cafe!

As it was, life was weaving its web for me long before I arrived in my humble surroundings of the French Alps and realised these answers within me. An instant connection made with an individual along my travels made my destination known to me. What was left was to somehow find a life for me there...

2010-04-14T18:26:00.005+01:00

Why do we travel....?

To travel!
To grow, to become more than what we are....

Because sometimes you have to go to the ends of the unknown to work out what makes you happy

Beyond These Skies....Part 9....Piecing together parts of the jigsaw

2010-04-01T11:46:00.001+01:00

As a rule I have never let fear rule my life. I am not generally afraid and I perceive myself to be a strong capable woman. I have always believed that a coward dies over and over each day, yet a brave person only dies once. I have my Sicilian heritage to thank for teaching me that courage runs freely through my veins. So is it any wonder that with the inspiration I had drawn from my Nonno Antonio that I found myself immersed in the chaotic brilliance of life in the country of my forbearers.

Living in the heart of Italia, the word which sings to me every time I hear it, I discovered Italy’s stark beauty, witnessed its day to day life, unfathomable bureaucracies and mad drivers. I was able to revel in and embrace its culture and richness of history. Able to marvel and wonder at the Italians who enjoy life so fully. Their simple lives blending beautifully in with the simplicity of the landscape around them. I can now begin to fully understand and piece together my heritage with my very own eyes.

Beyond These Skies....Part8....Voyages of different kinds

2010-04-01T11:43:00.001+01:00

I am constantly amazed at how the world has changed so much in the last 50 years to create a world which air travel and distances mean nothing anymore? To me, the world has always seemed an accessible place in which I viewed as a wonderland of travel destinations for me to explore with never as so much as a thought that I would have to leave my homeland never to return or see it again.

Travelling by water as my Nonno Antonio, Nonna Maria, Zio Joe and Mother did, you get a sense of time, space and the enormity of the voyage in which you have just taken. But by plane, once you are seated in your seat you are enclosed in a sterilised neutral environment in which time does not exist and the space around you becomes a tunnel in which to transport you from one country to another without understanding the distances travelled.

Without even knowing it, I found myself holding my breath. On the other side that plane flight was the place I had heard about my entire life. From the time I was able to understand the water lapping on my homelands shores also met other shores in distant places, I dreamt that I would one day be a part of the place which my parents and grandparents talked about and told me many stories of. Its chaotic brilliance instilled in me through tails of past lives lived in its streets and life in its simplest forms. I dreamt of its’ piazza’s, rolling hills, olive groves and pasta! From as young as I could remember I had been fed other peoples experiences, thoughts and views about Italia, but finally I was going to see it for myself.

Beyond These Skies....Part 7....A Maze of Marble and Stone

2010-03-31T15:18:00.002+01:00

Visiting the cemetery where my beloved Nonna and Nonno rest side by side in their stone marble mausoleum, surrounded by concrete and other towering mausoleums of the Italians immigrants which also sought out this part of Australia as their new found land. I touched my lips to my mouth, reached up and deposited a kiss on my Nonna’s photograph and then did the same to my Nonno’s framed portrait. “Ciao Nonna and Nonno”I said to them and I instantly felt the tears swelling in my eyes coming from a place that hasn’t healed in over a decade. A place I know never will. There will always be tears in me for my Nonna and Nonno. I wondered to myself how many of those people laid to rest there were on the same boat as my grandparents. It just doesn’t seem right. Their graves should have been in their homeland and I wish I could just transport them to their beloved island. Their graves deserved the magnificent backdrop of the images they carried in their hearts for over 30 years. I wish I could have gathered them up and returned them to their island, their home.

Beyond These Skies....Part 6....An Immigration Story of my own

2010-03-31T15:16:00.002+01:00

Sadly my Nonno Antonio and Nonna Maria have passed on and all I am left with are the memories of their warm hugs and soothing voices. They live in the halls of my memory now – the most precious of which I pull out only once in a while, just in case it gets used up if I try to remember it too many times.

As I embarked on my own journey and voyage back to their homeland, I couldn’t help but think to myself that perhaps I was following in my Nonno Antonio’s footsteps. Boarding a plane, and leaving all of my beloved family and friends behind to come to a foreign country, which I have longed to call home. Was I about to change the outcome of my families’ roots yet again by leaving my patria just like my grandfather did? Was I to begin an immigration story of my own?

It is now more than ever that I am able to understand the courage which comes with making such a decision, the fear which comes with the unknown and the problems which are faced from living in a foreign country. I find myself wondering in amazement at how my grandparents survived for 30 odd years in a country which they never learnt to speak the language. Did they encounter the same daily problems as I do? And who did they turn to for help?

I can’t help but wonder if my Nonno Antonio were alive today, would he find it hard to understand why I wanted to go back to his patria. To the land he left in search of a better future? To the land he left forever and turned his back on with such conviction and determination.

And maybe that is why my decision to leave Australia perplexed my mother so much. My European journey meant something more to her than just a few years travelling around a country getting to know its culture again first hand, discovering my family roots. Maybe it’s because she has never returned or because to her a voyage to the other side of the world is a voyage from which you may never return, despite all of the modern day technology which has made travelling distances far more accessible.

I still remember the phone conversation I had with my mother only weeks before I boarded the plane destined for Italy.

“What’s the matter with me” I yell? “What’s the matter with you?” I ask. “Why can’t you be happy for me? Why can’t you be the slightest bit excited for me? I am going back to YOUR country for goodness sake” I screamed at her in true Italian style.

“This is my country now,” she screamed back at me, with her Sicilian blood beginning to boil.

I begin to argue “Don’t you understand? I was raised in Italy. Everything! I grew up listening to the language, eating and cooking its food, learning about the evil eye, peering up at statues of the Virgin Mary and Jesus Christ on every dresser in their house, the stupid superstitions, the trips to the delicatessen, the garden.” I pause for breath, hoping to get a reaction from my mother but nothing, so I continue, “the visitors, the neighbourhood full of relatives and Sicilians. It’s all been Italy! And You! So Sicilian! How can you not understand me when Nonna, Nonno and your heritage created this within me? How can you sit there now and say that it’s not your home anymore, when everything I was brought up with was tainted Italian? You taught me to love it! And I do love it. I want to be there more than anything right now and all I want from you is to be happy for me and to give me a glimmer of knowledge that I am making the right decision.”

I am not sure she understood. In her own way she turned my rant into something else later. After all, that’s what Sicilians do. Besides I am not even sure I understood it myself, or where it came from. All I know is that it is was true. I am the first of our family to make the voyage back to the homeland of Italia. I couldn’t understand why no one could see how humbling and important it was to me that I was the first of the Australian generation to want to go back and retrace our families’ heritage? I wanted to understand why my Nonna clasped her hands together and raised her eyes to the sky whenever the word Sicilia was mentioned.

My Italia. I longed to see and experience her for myself. I felt her, and the thought of her made all of the hairs on my body bristle.

But before I could board the plane, without my mother standing at the airport to wave me arriverderci! I had one more thing to do….

Beyond These Skies....Part 5....Sicilia!!

2010-03-31T15:14:00.002+01:00

Sicily with its dreadful poverty; real life is never far from anyone’s mind. The mafia has been the only successful business in Sicily for centuries and it still continues to keep a hand in everyone’s lives. Palermo, a city which Goethe once claimed was possessed of an indescribable beauty may now be the only city in Western Europe where you can still find yourself picking your steps through World War II rubble, just to give you a sense of development there. The town has been systematically uglified beyond description by the hideous and unsafe apartment blocks the Mafia constructed in the 1980’s as money laundering operations. Asked if these buildings were cheap to construct, a Sicilian man says “Oh no, this is very expensive concrete. In each batch, there are a few bodies of people who were killed by the mafia, and that costs money. But it does make the concrete stronger to be reinforced by all their bones!”

Sicily is a jumbled mass of human existence finding space where ever it can; there is no sense of zoning, no order. People stand on street corners and watch the cars simply go by. Old men sit in groups outside the bars and watch the women go by. Young boys call out to their friends on the other side of the street while young girls check their reflections in the shop windows. Car horns blast incessantly. What an utterly intoxicating yet impossible place all at the same time!

Yes it is beautiful on the outside but on the inside it is like a prison. Sicilians both love and hate their island in equal measure. So beloved and so reviled. On the surface everything is perfect and beautiful. But underneath lays a hard life. The Mafia is everywhere, in every aspect of life. Mafia is the simplest of things. Paying the guy at the car park to look after your car, the rubbish collecting on the streets, the merchants wondering the streets with their bags of fake Gucci glasses, that’s Mafia! Yet ask a Sicilian what is wrong with Sicily and they will declare “It’s not the Mafia that’s the problem with Sicily, it’s the Sicilians!”

In Sicily, the only people you can trust are your family, if you’re lucky! Your husband, your wife, your children and your parents. And that’s it! Everyone else is out to stab you in the back and ruin you, given half a chance. People live in jealousy. There is very little work and not enough money, so as soon as you have something, others automatically want to take it away from you. The only good thing about having to deal with Sicilians is that it makes you hard. If you can live in Sicily, you can live anywhere. If you can deal with Sicilians you can deal with anyone!

Beyond These Skies....Part 4 ....An Emigration Story

2010-03-31T15:10:00.001+01:00

One day, one moment, one decision is all it takes to change the destiny of an entire family, both for those present and for those yet to come. In that one single decision my Sicilian grandfather made to leave Sicily and venture to Australia. He changed the outcome of his families’ lives forever. Taking the detour of a lifetime, he left one island behind for another and set in motion the possibility and eventuality of a new generation of family history. Ordering his wife and children to pack up their lives to begin a voyage of no return, Nonno Antonio broke off a branch of the family tree and moved it to the other side of the world.

So you see, for me immigration is not a distant memory or something that happened so long ago I repeat it like a worn out tale of family history. 50 years is less than a lifetime and for the rest of my Grandparents life and for all those who walked off those boats after their life changing voyages, they can still recount in living colour everything they left behind.

As many Sicilians did in the 1950’s and 60’s, Nonno Antonio, Nonna Maria, Zio Jo and my mother left Sicily in search of Australia’s promised opportunity and better life. Yet for all the positives in that statement I am only left wondering how they must have felt stepping onto that boat with the knowledge that they would never see their homeland, families and beloved friends again. How did they bring themselves to leave members of their family? Never to return or see them again? How did they live with the likely knowledge that they would live and die in a foreign country? I now understand how brave my Nonno Antonio must have been to look upon something he loved with the knowledge that he may never see it again. And how Sicilian Nonna Maria and my mother were to know pain like that, but for the sake of pride pretend they were pleased to be leaving.

Sometimes I wonder what would have become of my family and my life if Nonno Antonio hadn’t been as strong and courageous as to make the decision to leave the worn track of his history and take the leap into the unknown. Would my mother still be living in Sicily raising her family within a Sicilian arranged marriage, continuing to live out the Italian traditions of her family?

Beyond These Skies...Part 3....European at Heart

2010-03-31T15:09:00.002+01:00

I could never have completely understood the step I was about to take as I boarded that plane, destined for an unknown land. Born and raised in Victoria, Australia, I learnt a carefree kind of lifestyle, allowed to roam the streets freely on my bicycle and play with friends in the streets. I made friends easily and achieved much in my schooling and sporting activities. But I longed for Italy and the continent of Europe. Born to an English father and a Sicilian Mother, I was brought up within a family where Europe was home to every single ancestors before me. Their stories of immigration intertwined within my families’ history. I grew up being Australian but feeling deeply European within my heart. My siblings and I, faced with the knowledge of being the first generation of Australians within our family, lived in a world where our European families roots where as important to us as was celebrating Australia day. We only had to look as far as our parents to understand that another world outside of Australia existed. A world which we had become a part of due to our parents and grandparents traditions which they carried in their hearts and brought with them on their voyages to a new land.

Beyond these Skies....Part 1....A life Changing Moment

2010-03-31T15:02:00.001+01:00

It seems that it’s the smallest things that make the biggest difference. A chance encounter, a fleeting thought, a brief conversation, picking up a book meant for you in a book store, or the single image that won’t leave your dreams. It’s the moments you don’t even notice which can start a chain of events that have you suddenly veering off onto a tangent of a lifetime.

If they look back, can most people pinpoint the exact moment that their life changed forever? The defining moment or series of events that coincided to achieve an outcome that they never would have dreamt of? For me, it was a rare moment of acting without thinking. A series of events which brought me to the point of allowing myself to listen to my heart, whilst ignoring my ever cautious mind. I imagined myself walking down ancient streets and felt that strange shift inside of me whenever I thought of that magic word…..Italia! It drew something out of me I couldn’t explain. It held such a power over me I couldn’t resist and in that moment I felt like I had no other choice. “Go,” I whispered to myself, and from that moment forward I gave over to the acceptance that everything in my life would change forever.

That very moment for me, is now over 2 years ago. Those chance encounters and dreams are all long gone. And, Yes, my life has changed forever. Of course, these moments can happen at any time and to anyone. I am not deluded by the thought that my epiphany was the work of true pioneering brilliance, but a moment in my life when I allowed my destiny to take flight with me in tow.

My recent past tells of a period of time spanning over 2 years of travelling, experiencing, and exploring. As I stand here today looking back over my travelling journey, I am proud to say I did it in my own way and got the most out of my experiences and have been lucky to have had many amazing opportunities come my way.

With the perspective of hindsight, I now know my life will never be the same because of the impulse decision I made to leave Australia at such a young age. In such formative years of my life I left behind my life as I knew it and begun the journey of creating another. The moment I made the simple yet huge decision to leave all of the beautiful people whom I cherished as part of my life and take flight to begin the journey in which would create my new destiny, I created a new life. I started down a new road, a new journey, and changed my life as I knew it.

Beyond These Skies...

2010-03-31T15:00:00.005+01:00

Recently I have been compiling memoirs that explore the eternal theme of belonging. The understanding of heritage, stories of immigration and how the people in our childhood can shape us. I hope you enjoy this next phase of my waffle!

This ones a long one, Sorry!!! My Wish....My Mission....My Food Philosophy

2010-03-09T15:29:00.002Z

Imagine...a world where children grew up on farms, exposed to experiences such as feeding lambs, collecting eggs from the hens each morning, picking ripe apples directly from the tree and planting carrot seeds in the vegetable garden. Imagine...a world without supermarkets or convenience stores but the convenience of your tomatoes being just a short walk to your vegetable garden?

Sadly, these visions seem to be a thing of the past, images our predecessors’ cherish rather than memories we hope to be able to provide for our children of today. Luckily for me, I was one of those children who were brought up searching for the freshly laid eggs under the hens’ warm belly. At age five I could tell you exactly what was growing in the vegetable garden, I knew when the raspberries were ready to be picked for making jam. I tasted the sweetness of a fresh fig from the tree and looked forward to the autumn bringing the prickly chestnuts to roast over an open fire. This was all common knowledge to me because I was exposed to it. That was the landscape of food I was taught and I grew up being surrounded by.

Sadly though, I am in the minority of children in my generation who were brought up like this. We have come too far from those images now. The world is a very different place in the here and now. Food is now killing us! The western diet as we know it today is actually causing us to de-evolve! For the first time we are looking at a picture where our children will die younger due to poor knowledge of food and overconsumption of the wrong choices they are exposed to.

We are now looking at a pandemic of obesity. The outlook is grim, very grim. And quite simply a revolution is needed.
Obesity, diabetes, some cancers and heart disease are taking the lives of our loved ones due to poor education and the landscape of food we surround ourselves with.

I ask you, how did we reach this point? A point where we find ourselves not evolving but actually de-evolving! When in your lifetime were you educated about food, its nutrients and how to cook nutritious meals from real foods? I ask you, where has real food gone? The fruit bowl on the family dinner table? The home-baked breakfast bars? And for that matter, the family dining table, where did that go? Perhaps all of these ‘old fashioned’ values walked out the door as divorce rates increased and more women left the life of a domesticated house wife to pursue more ‘fulfilling’ lives in independent career roles separate to the home.

Mis-leading labelling, marketing and the tricks of advertising have taken the truth out of real foods, so it is no wonder we are a population very confused about what the right and wrong choices are. We were not born craving coke, big Macs or skittles! Have we forgotten that we don’t NEED white bread or aspartame filled soft drinks in our diets. Supermarkets have taken the place of local produce growers, busier lifestyles driven by economics have changed our priorities in the home, ready-made meals packed with preservatives and additives have taken the place of freshly cooked nutritious meals due to time and knowledge limitations. Surely the relationship with your local produce man at the market is better than your fake “Have a nice day!” relationship with the check out chick at the supermarket or the “would you like fries with that?” relationship with the MacDonald’s server!

What are we teaching our children about food? That it comes out of a pizza box? that you can drive to a microphone where someone will take your order and give you ‘food’ directly into your car where you can consume it while driving!! That Friday night is fish and chips night and on weekends you can ‘fend for yourself!’ by placing a ready meal in the microwave! And what about table manners? What about cutlery and the etiquette of conversation and sharing. Too many times I have seen children sit at the dinner table, turn their nose up at the food placed in front of them and switch on their DS; tuning into a world of video games while the real world is happening all around them but they are oblivious to it and not included in it! How sad is it that parents accept this as normal behaviour. That they would prefer their child to be consumed by video games than share their time together as a family and have genuine interest in each other’s lives and the family unit they are part of. That to me is very, very scary!

The old cliché ‘kids are like sponges’ could never be truer – they are easily influenced, they seek knowledge and will follow the lead of adults. It is therefore our responsibilities as adults to provide a positive environment around food. We too easily assume children want what we want, but they don’t!! They want what is best for them and they put faith in their parents to do that for them before they get to an age when they can make their own choices. We, the adult population are responsible for helping children make the link between what goes in their mouths and how it is going to affect their overall health, mood and well-being.

For the last two years I have been a traveller of this world. Seeking new cultures and experiences in foreign countries. I left Australia with a qualification in Naturopathy and an understanding of health from a holistic point of view. I am not a doctor, I am not a parent, I am no more important than you reading this article or the person sitting next to you on the tube. But I have a passion for health, nutrition, food and cooking. I have a vision, a wish if you like and that is to help people change their lives – to give them the space and time and knowledge they need to improve their life through food, spirit, and education about health and its link to nutrition and cooking.

How I hoped to reach this goal when I left Australia was to gain knowledge of the hospitality industry with a goal insight to open my very own health retreat. That has been my mission and goal. And it still is. I have placed myself in hospitality industry positions to improve my knowledge of all the aspects I will need to implement my final goal. For the last 2 years I have worked as a chef/cook, managed chalets in the French Alps and Villa’s in Tuscany.

My passions for naturopathy, food, cooking and nutrition drive me to want to help people make a change. A change that is needed! It is my wish to inspire people to cook again, to fight obesity throughout the world through education of diet, nutrition and lifestyle. We all have a choice about the diet and lifestyles we lead and by helping people recognise that making the right choices can not only prevent illness, but actually reverse them is in my opinion as an integral step in starting to reverse the pandemic of obesity which we must fight.

So let’s break it down...FOOD – One of the simplest things in this world. LIFE – The most important thing to all of us. DEATH – The thing we all try to avoid. GOOD HEALTH – A goal we all hope to achieve. So I ask you, why do we make it so hard for ourselves? Why is food so complicated? Once upon a time we listened to Mother Nature and what she had to provide for us naturally. Eating seasonally meant that we ate the right foods for our bodies at the right time of the year. We ate strawberries in the spring to help cleanse our bodies after a long indulgent winter. We ate watery watermelon, sweet grapes and colourful berries in the summer to keep us hydrated and full of energy and we ate hearty squash and carbohydrate rich foods in the winter to provide us with the nutrients to get through the less active, cold months. It all makes sense, yet we choose to ignore it.

And what about the question of nutrients? How many people even know what nutrients are? Most people will answer with the common answer of “you’re talking about vitamins and minerals, right?” Well yes, we are but do you actually know what foods contain what vitamins and minerals?! Shouldn’t we make it our responsibility to change the myth that an orange contains a large amount of Vitamin C! Shouldn’t we be educating people that a simple strawberry, kiwi fruit or pepper contains more vitamin C than an orange on your supermarket shelf ever will!
How many of us know the health benefits of the mineral, Zinc? Or what nutrients are important for us at different stages of our lives? Most of us will educate ourselves IF we get sick, or WHEN we become pregnant but what about prevention and the power we have to improve the quality of our mental states and health in day to day life?

It is my opinion, we have forgotten the art of cooking – how it can bind people – how the simple act of sitting around a table and the conviviality of that binds us all together, makes us laugh, forms bonds and makes us happy and HEALTHY!! Quite simply, It’s about food, it’s about produce, it’s about the seasons, and it’s about sharing food and the knowledge of nutrients and how they can affect our health. We cannot deny that plants promote health – eating more plant foods and less of the other choices we have increases our life spans and increases our quality of life. Conditions such as diabetes type 2 (NIDDIM), heart disease and hypertension, the very illnesses that are killing us are not only preventable but reversible through diet and lifestyle. And we have to start fighting them. We have to admit that drugs are not the answer and acknowledge that an easier and much cheaper way of combating these diseases is right at our finger tips.

And although another subject, another fight and struggle all of its own accord, let’s not forget about Global warming, carbon emissions and how the obesity crisis is intrinsically linked with how we are killing our planet. Of course if we all had vegetables gardens and never had to get in a car to go to buy our food, then we wouldn’t have such a big problem. If we didn’t demand food from all over the world be stocked on our supermarket shelves then carbon emissions would undoubtedly be less. If we kept to the old logic of being ‘locavores.’ Of eating produce from our local area, from local growers, butchers and foods in season then no one could argue that we would be helping the planet. As I have said, I was one of the lucky ones who grew up playing in the lanes of my Nonno’s vegetable garden sneakily pricing the sweetest sweet peas straight from the vines. My Sicilian heritage allowed me to grow up watching how tomatoes grew from flowers into little green round buds, into deliciously vibrant red fresh tomatoes ready to be picked. I watched as my Nonno picked them straight from his crop, delivering them into my Nonna’s kitchen where she would make them into the most delicious tomato sauces to go with our pasta. One of my most treasured possessions is my Nonna’s little black book of recipes. Written in incomprehensible Sicilian dialect, but none the less invaluable to me as a source of wisdom and inspiration.

My inspiration and wisdom is also drawn from my very own Mother who drove to the local fresh produce market, with her children in tow, searching the stalls looking for the ripest, sweetest, most delicious produce for our meals which she provided for us. My siblings and I thought supermarkets were strange places. We knew that a melon on the stands in the supermarket didn’t have anywhere near the colour, taste or smell of those on the local stands at the market from the friendly local farmer ‘Mario’, who grew his melons with love from his plot down the road.

As I have said, I am one of the lucky ones. I am not obese, I am free of illness and have the knowledge to make informed choices about my diet and lifestyle. But as I have also stated, I am in the minority and that needs to change. In order to combat obesity we need to start educating people. We need to start to change the way we eat and cook our foods. We need to start educating children about real foods, nutrients, health and teach them the wholesome value of being able to cook with real foods. We need to start thinking about alcohol consumption in our daily lives and now our sedentary lives and daily food choices are causing illness and obesity.

So where do I want to start...?
As I decide to hang up my worn out travellers shoes, I find myself in a unique position. With two years cooking/chef experience and my Naturopathy degree behind me I am at the centre of being able to implement my knowledge to start to help people make the right choices about food. All of my passions; holistic health, nutrition, cooking and food put me at the front line of being able to educate and cook nutritious meals for individuals with such diseases as type 2 diabetes or hypertension. Having run my own Naturopathic business and had patients describe their daily eating habits I have seen how poor food choices can manifest illness in individuals. And what’s better I now have the cooking abilities to actually provide the right food choices to these individuals as a way of combating their illnesses. All in all I understand how food is killing us and what’s better; I can help to make a change. My plan is to use the power of words, speech and education to implement a change and reverse the ill effects of the landscape of food surrounding us. To allow food not to kill us but to nourish us!

Blimey!! Two years already....

2010-03-04T14:16:00.000Z

The 10th of January 2010 marked the 2 year anniversary of the day I made the decision to leave Australia and begin this journey I have been travelling on for the last 2 years. And this week in March 2010 marks the day I walked through those dreaded double doors of the international departures at Melbourne airport. Tears flowing down my face at the emotional and physical pain of saying goodbye to my family and friends spilling over; completely overwhelming me.

And although 2 years doesn’t seem like a long time in the grand scheme of things, I can tell you from my point of view, each and every one of those 24 months has felt like a lifetime in themselves. When you are away from family and friends for that long, the absence your heart and whole being goes through can be hard to cope with at times. The changes that you go through as you experience new cultures, lives and places are all things you wish you could be sharing with your loved ones and those who understand you the best. Throughout those 2 years I have yearned to be around my loved ones more than I dare think about. The cumulative minutes, hours and days I have spent thinking, wishing and yearning to be around my friends and family would amount to an insurmountable amount of time. Time I probably should have spent enjoying the experiences of life instead of being so melodramatic! But hey, what’s life without a little philosophical thought and melancholy!

There have been times when I have been scared of the changes that come with time. I have noticed the connections with people taking on new transformations and friendships changing due to time and not sharing experiences. People change and I know I have changed beyond recognition to some people in my life due to these last two years. But I know my true friends are those that still understand and respect me for those and can still find the Kim that they love and know through those changes and experiences I have enjoyed without them. The people that have taken the time to understand how my environments, lifestyle and experiences have shaped and formed me into the person I am today are my true friends and I am grateful for them. Even my English Accents!!!

Worn Out Travellers Shoes...

2010-03-04T14:15:00.000Z

It’s time to hang up the travellers’ hat for a while!
My loyal and trusty travel shoes have taken me far and given me so many beautiful experiences but I’m done!! I’m tired!!
I find my thoughts turning towards wanting to find a base rather than what my new adventure is going to be. So it’s time to find a place to call home for a while...

With my life consisting of people constantly coming and going out of my life due to the job positions I have held over the last two years I find myself reaching a point of loneliness which seems to have consumed me. Making new friends no longer appeals as the eventual goodbyes when a new destination calls are too hard to bear. Each Saturday I endure a day filled with goodbyes from guests who have stayed in my company at the chalet, followed by a whole new group of at least 12 guests coming into my life with whom I have to get to know. The goodbyes each week are beginning to take their toll on me. It seems that with each farewell, each and every friendship which is developed and then lost leaves me feeling like a little piece of me is lost with them as they leave. It’s a horrible feeling having to start all over again each time people leave. I find myself looking forward to the day when I can live an existence where I can feel I have my friends support and friendship surrounding me without any time limit or restrictions as boundaries. Don’t get me wrong I will miss meeting so many new people and making connections with people from all walks of life but I am longing to be able to form bonds and friendships within a community I can call mine for a while.

It’s this bizarre sense of loneliness (without actually ever being lonely) that has driven me to want to find a base. It’s been such a long time since I felt like I had any support network around me that when the times do get tough I have no one to turn to but myself and my own strength. Travelling on my own and coupled with the constancy of missing family and friends while travelling is losing its appeal. The existence of constantly moving and never feeling as if I have a base to call home no longer appeals. All the excitement and wonder I once used to feel when I thought of visiting a new country or culture is lost to me now. The constancy of moving and setting up a life in a new destination conjures up thoughts of exhaustion and dread at the notion of more change. The unknown no longer appeals and the tourist within me has gone into hiding! I am longing for the lifestyle of an English speaking country, to have the ease of being able to converse and be understood. To have a space I can call my own, where I can unpack my suitcase and enjoy a bed that is MINE and not just mine for the next 5 months! My poor tired soul doesn’t seem to be able to cope with much more change lately. And I certainly have put it through a lot!

But what an adventure it has been! I can now look back with a huge amount of pride at what I have achieved and experienced over the last 2 years. I have beautiful memories I will cherish for the rest of my life and friends all over the world. I am truly grateful for all the amazing places I have visited, all the amazing experiences I have had. But by far the best part of the last 2 years have been the beautiful people I have been able to meet. I feel incredibly lucky to have met so many amazing, generous people who have shaped and changed me into the person I am today. I literally have suitcases full of memories!

Morzine Madness....Part 2....Brain Freeze!

2010-02-19T14:37:00.003Z

I call it Brain Freeze, but whatever you decide to call it, it is an integrity threatening phenomenon only found in the snow. Where all perspective and concept of the real world goes sliding down the mountain to altitudes which accommodate normal daily happenings. The bubble for us saisonaires which we all live in within a ski resort seems to create an environment where all concept of reality becomes distorted, where the only topics of conversation seem to be about the fresh powder lines found at the back of the mountain earlier that day, the snow fall predictions, and the next skiing destination along with the weekly gossip from our latest nights out.

And then February seems to hit us like a tonne of bricks and the mid-season blues seem to set in. I don’t know what it is about February during a ski season but it seems to dampen everyone’s personality for some reason. The increase in workload after the lull of January and the frustratingly annoying occurrence of having to share our once quite slopes with enormous amounts of half term guests and tourists seems to make all saisonaires reach breaking point. And with little perspective being able to be gained within the ski resort bubble the life of a saisonaire seems quite bleak at times. Maybe it’s the realisation that we have reached the halfway point of the season and the thought of returning to the real world jolts us into an unconscious little melt down! Bring on March I say!!

Morzine Madness...Part 1

2010-02-19T14:07:00.002Z

Well I guess it’s definitely about time for a wee little update of the Kimba Chronicles. This week marks the half way point of my ski season in Morzine and I am going to have to admit that I am happy to be on the downward slope to the finish line.

The season thus far has definitely lived up to the changes I am used to dealing with within resort. Staff changes have continued to find me yet again. Come this Saturday, I will be saying goodbye to my second chalet host of the season and welcoming my third into the Chalet. Sophie, my original chalet host left us at the start of the New Year and after a rocky first half of the season I am hoping and praying the second half brings with it some much needed consistency along with some good spring skiing.

This season has had a completely different feel to my last season in Vaujany. Morzine is a vastly different experience to my beloved small French Village of Vaujany. Morzine has a real mix of individuals and an incredible amount of people in it!! It is impossible to compare my two seasons to each other, so I just won’t.

I am glad to report that I love my job and the company I am working for. I would not hesitate to recommend working for Darren and Sam at ‘The Great Escape’ to anyone who wants to do a ski season. I feel I have made lifelong friends through them and they have treated each and every one of their staff members with the upmost respect and consistently showed a high level of generosity and trust which can sometimes be hard to find in the Alps. So yet again I feel ever so grateful and lucky to have found amazing people to work for.

Life for me within the Chalet I have to say is going great guns! Managing such a large chalet within its first year of operation has proved to be tough at times but having reached the half way point now, I can genuinely say I am proud of the way I am managing the chalet and how our guests have been looked after. I have definitely developed some useful management skills which I know will be useful with future plans and proven to myself that I am capable of taking on almost anything!

And with my head in less of a party mode this season I have been able to keep the kitchen and chalet as my primary focus. My choice to do another ski came about due to wanting to allow myself to spend another 5 months of improving my cooking skills in an intensive environment which would enable me to take full responsibility of a kitchen, menus and budget. And half way through I can definitely say I have achieved what I came her e to do as I feel like I have progressed in the kitchen and felt the true skills of a Chef flowing through my veins.

The silver spoon won!!
And if any of you are wondering which piece of ski equipment I decided to pick up this season, I am happy and very proud to announce I am still on my beloved skis. It only took me a few weeks back on my skis to realise I am definitely a skier and that I should leave boarding to the cooler and more colourful people on the slopes. In my opinion skiing has become the new boarding and I AM a skier!

I have also been lucky enough to have been given the opportunity to explore other activities on skis and have been doing loads of trekking or randonee skiing (alpine touring) which has been an exciting change to the downhill skiing I am used to. Instead of speeding down pistes I am now finding myself turning my skis up the mountain and skiing/walking up the mountains and taking in the scenery rather than having it racing past me. It has been a lovely way to experience the Alps and the wonders of winter as well as keeping extremely fit.

Australia day within the Alps yet again proved to be another bumper day. I spent the day with the British Army trekking to the top of a summit and then spent the night dancing and partying in a very French bar to Irish music with English Army Lads!! Very random but great fun. For 20 days of January I had a Major of the British Army and 60 of his Royal Engineers Regiment staying within our 2 catered chalets. So I was literally “feeding an Army!!” in January and boy could they eat!!

For the second half of the season I am looking forward to catching up with some great Australian friends again who will be here in Morzine to visit me and learn how to ski! Yikes! And then in March I am very excited to have Verity, Simon and the 3 boys coming to visit me. I cannot wait to have my beautiful Tuscan family around me again. I have missed all their friendships and time spent with the boys. It will be a great week in which we all get to reconnect in the snow!!!

Lastly I want to apologise to all of my dear friends and loved ones whom I have been neglecting over the last few months. I haven’t forgotten you, as I think of you all constantly. Life here in resort is just so so busy and I am constantly on the go that it is a rare occurrence I get the chance to spend any time replying to emails or skyping, so please forgive me and when I finally get to burst this bubble that I am living in at the end of April I promise to try and reconnect with all of you again.

Once Upon a Time...

2009-12-11T23:06:00.000Z

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?

Its Pow Pow Time Again!

2009-12-11T22:05:00.003Z

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...

Without a Home

2009-11-30T23:18:00.002Z

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!

Long Lost Family

2009-11-30T22:04:00.003Z

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!'

2009-11-30T21:35:00.003Z

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!

Bella Toscana…..Part 17......What Next?

2009-10-18T22:29:00.003+01:00

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

2009-10-18T22:29:00.001+01:00

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!

Bella Toscana…..Part 15.....Mia Sicilia

2009-10-18T22:27:00.003+01:00

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!

2009-10-18T22:24:00.002+01:00

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

2009-10-18T22:06:00.003+01:00

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!

Bella Toscana…..Part 12…..When in Rome…..

2009-10-16T13:41:00.000+01:00

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!

Bella Toscana…..Part 11…..Surprises in August and an unexpected September

2009-10-16T13:00:00.003+01:00

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.

Bella Toscana.....Part 10.....Its a Boy!!!

2009-10-13T15:33:00.001+01:00

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.

Bella Toscana…..Part 9…..A Suitcase full of Memories

2009-10-02T21:05:00.000+01:00

“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.

My first writers’ apology

2009-10-01T17:51:00.000+01:00

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.

“I DON’T KNOW!”

2009-09-27T16:55:00.001+01:00

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

Bella Toscana…..Part 8…..Just more blah, blah, blah!

2009-09-07T18:17:00.000+01:00

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.

Bella Toscana….Part 7....Bel Far Niente and Embracing the Siesta!

2009-08-31T10:28:00.000+01:00

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!

Bella Toscana…..Part 6......No Longer a Tourist

2009-08-23T16:29:00.000+01:00

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?

Bella Toscana……Part 5…….Sitting, Thinking, Wishing

2009-08-17T22:03:00.001+01:00

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?

Bella Toscana…..Part 4......What’s happening to me?

2009-08-14T09:21:00.000+01:00

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?

Bella Toscana……Part 3........No Right To Complain!

2009-08-11T20:51:00.000+01:00

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!

Bella Toscana…..Part 2......Its TOO Bloomin HOT!!

2009-07-29T14:30:00.001+01:00

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!

Bella Toscana.....Part 1…..Time Flies!

2009-07-25T13:39:00.001+01:00

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.

2009-07-23T12:29:00.001+01:00

Here is a new and better way to view The Kimba Chronicles Volume 1

Open publication - Free publishing - More travel

The Same Yet Different

2009-07-22T21:30:00.000+01:00

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.

Dark Clouds Descending

2009-07-22T21:28:00.001+01:00

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.

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.

All I have to say about Milan….

2009-07-07T15:18:00.004+01:00

Fashion, glamour, furniture design, money, status, busy, chaotic! And an amazing Japanese restaurant!

Bella Toscana Ancora

2009-07-07T15:18:00.003+01:00

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…

The Rolling Hills of Toscana are a Calling…..

2009-07-07T15:10:00.003+01:00

From France Phil and I caught a train over the beautiful French/Italian Alps and ventured to Milano for a brief few days. We decided we needed to acclimatise ourselves before we went back to our real lives within the world. We weren’t quite sure how we would feel leaving the secure bubble of Vaujany or how well we would mingle back into the reality of the real world. So the indulgent lure of Italian culture was just what we needed to sooth the senses and reacquaint ourselves back into life without snow, skiing and the familiar faces of Vaujany.

Despite the constant rain we had a great time exploring the hustle and bustle city of Milano. Eating Italian food, wondering the streets by night and indulging in good Italian gelato. I had been excited about my return to Italy and I welcomed the language, cuisine and culture change whole heartedly. I had missed Italy’s familiarity and chaotic brilliance. I let it sweep over me and I was instantly transported back to a place in my heart which holds feelings of home.

Home for the most part of 2008 had been in the beautiful rolling hills of Tuscany and I was about to begin yet another summer scorching amongst the olive trees and endless lines of grapevines there. I was returning to the same position I had taken with an English family running a 15th century Villa in the heart of the Chianti region of Tuscany. I was employed as their au pair and given the responsibility of looking after the families’ two and a half year old son, Sam.

I couldn’t wait to get back to him, to see how much he had grown and to see if he would remember me. As I boarded the train from Milano on my way to Firenze it was with such a bitter sweet feeling. I was sad to be leaving Phil. The season officially ending as I boarded the train to begin the next adventure. But the sweet knowledge and the joy I was about to witness as I arrived back with Simon, Verity, Sam and Harvey was all I could think about and helped me board the train and begin the journey back to them.

The Kimba Chronicles – Volume 1 – IS HERE!

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I am glad to announce that Volume 1 of the Kimba Chronicles is here for you all to read in a wonderful pdf format, which Rob has beautifully pieced together for me.

Simply click on the click below and select to download the file and enjoy….
http://www.mediafire.com/file/hz2yrkzmyhm/The Kimba Chronicles - Volume 1 - final.pdf

or you can use this link ti ISSUU which is a better and more beautiful way to view the chronicles

Open publication - Free publishing - More travel

I have called it ‘Beyond These Skies’ because it’s exactly about that. Taking the step to go and explore what was beyond the skies I knew so well in Australia. Expanding my horizons and beginning the adventure of exploring new and exciting territories.

It’s a bit different to the writing I am doing now on this blog page, but I guess as my writing style develops, as I evolve and my perspective on things change, it will continue to evolve too. Volume one is definitely much more about the decision to leave and the experiences I went through as I begun my life in Europe. I have also added all of my personal diary entries as I feel it helps to frame exactly my emotional space at the time and allows me to express my many ups and downs that I experienced following the decision to go overseas.

I hope reading about my many experiences and adventures will help you all feel that little bit closer to me while I am away and allow you to feel as if you are all part of this journey with me. I carry all of your love, friendships and support with me everyday. They are what keep me going through the lonely and homesick times and remind me of what I have to look forward to when I do eventually come home.

I want to thank Rob for all of his hard work, late nights and beautiful insight in collaborating this pdf for me. It was completely his idea and his generous offer to do something so wonderful for me is a true testament to his friendship. So thank you once again Rob, I love it and I am sure everyone else will too.

I hope you have all enjoyed reading the blog page so far. Please stay tuned, there are plenty of adventures left in me yet!

Lots of love to you all
Kim xx

2009-06-18T13:29:00.001+01:00

The Vaujany Experience Part 17…….I am Hooked!!

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I loved every minute of my time in the Alps. I am now totally hooked on the lifestyle within a ski resort and can’t wait to do as many seasons as I can, chasing the winters between the hemispheres. In those 5 short months, I can without a doubt say that I was the happiest I have ever been and I am so grateful for being able to find a lifestyle which is so suited to me. I am incredibly proud of myself and can now look back and see the steep learning curve I have come out the other side of. Teaching myself to ski and becoming a chef, cooking a 6 course meal each night for 28 people within a chalet is an incredible achievement.

I now can truly say that my life has been enriched because of the decision I made to leave Australia and see the world. I now feel, more than any other time in my life, that I could do anything I put my mind to. Life has become all about the next adventure, the next experience and place to explore. I have been so lucky to be able to find one amazing experience after another. I am not sure when my luck will run out but until it does I am going to continue to find amazing people and places to experience. Life is there to be lived and I honestly can’t imagine leading my life any other way at the moment. I am hungry for more and can’t wait to see what is around the next corner for me.

The Vaujany Experience Part 16…….Kick Ski Forever in our Hearts

2009-06-18T13:18:00.001+01:00

The Kick Ski team by the end of the season was a tight nit family. We had all been through so much and formed such incredible friendships and bonds, that when it came to say goodbye it was with great sadness. Matt, Sophie and Jack all departed on the 22nd of April and while Darren drove off down the hill and Jack had his last “woop woop!” out the window, I felt as if a part of my family were leaving me. I sat outside Franrick Lodge and cried with Phil and Wendy, trying to take stock of what had just happened. The season was truly coming to an end and I couldn’t quite bring myself to come to terms with it.

Phil and I stayed on until the 27th helping Wendy and Darren with the final closedown of Franrick Lodge. We were the last remaining seasonaires left for the 08/09 season in the village. The Ski Peak crew had all left on the 23rd and only locals remained now. Most of our goodbyes had been said and we now had the whole place to ourselves.

Darren, Wendy, Phil and I all skied for the final time on the 25th of April. The day before the lifts closed. We got on the first lift and rode right to the top of Pic Blanc just one more time. And when it was all over, my heart broke just a little bit as I handed over my beloved skis back to the ski hire boys. They had given me so much over the season. My first pair of skis had taken me to heights I had never reached on foot and had given me the time of my life. So it was with great affection and love that I accepted them back into my life when the ski hire boys returned them to my hands and said to keep them.

Rather fittingly as Phil and I took our final drive out of Vaujany towards Grenoble train station the village was blanketed by snow one last time for us. It has snowed overnight probably for one of the last times of the year and with a dusting of powder covering the mountain and village we said our goodbyes and took our final views of the place which had given us so much and become part of our lives forever.

Sadly Kick Ski will not be in operation next winter. The Global economic crisis has certainly taken its toll on small tourism operators and Kick Ski is just one the latest victims to fall. Some of the team will be returning to Vaujany and working for Ski Peak. I however have decided to chase a new challenge. I am going to go in search of a new resort to experience and some new ski terrain to explore. You will have to stay tuned to hear all about where the next adventure will take place. The job offers have been coming in thick and fast and hopefully ill have made a decision soon.

I can’t wait for winter to arrive and for the fun to begin all over again. Lets face it….If the snow never melted, we would never leave this wonderland!

The Vaujany Experience Part 15……Coming to an End

2009-06-17T15:55:00.001+01:00

As April approached and the final few weeks of the season loomed in front of us, we found almost any excuse to party! We had all had the time of our lives over the last 5 months and we all wanted it to end with one massive bang!!

The owner of the Swallow bar was closing up shop at the end of the season and with it being our sole partying destination during the season we felt it deserved a rather large send off, deserving of all the great nights it had given us. Its seven year history within Vaujany would be sorely missed. We had all found a place in our hearts for it and would be sad to see Vince closing its doors.

For the final 2 weeks of the season it seemed we partied almost every night. We could always find an excuse to celebrate! Whether it was the final changeover day, the departure of the final guests, the final Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday and Saturday nights at the swallow bar! With only the prospect of cleaning to get up for each day and the final stages of closedown to play out we made sure the tedious days events were quickly erased with copious amounts of alcohol and dancing each night, letting the fun times roll on as the season was rolling out.

The Vaujany Experience Part 14…….Springs arrival

2009-06-14T17:31:00.002+01:00

We had been spoilt with perfect conditions in January and February. Blessed with beautiful powder days with blue skies and brilliant sunshine most days. The snowfall had been exactly as we wished and skiing conditions couldn’t have been more perfect but as the days of March strode in we knew that our savoured powder days on the mountain were now becoming numbered.

As one season was coming to an end the change was palpable, as spring began to show her imminent arrival. Springs subtlety could be seen everywhere. Snow fell less often and stayed for shorter periods before melting, buds on trees could be seen emerging, marmots were now spotted on the slopes, coming out from there hibernating winter days and the many colours of spring began to paint the white canvas of winter with bright vibrant colours throughout the valleys.

Vaujanys’ locals began to bring their gardens back to life. Ploughing their fields and planting seeds in their vegetable gardens. Daffodils were everywhere and all of a sudden the valley turned a magnificent new green.

While seasonal relationships hearts were cracking with the sound of thawing ice and the onset of spring the mountain all of a sudden seemed to come to life. Waterfalls began to cascade down sheer mountain cliffs all over, which eventually found there way down through the valleys in raging torrents of water. Frozen lakes began to crack and melt and created beautiful pools of blue on the mountain.

The waterfall ‘La Fare’ which had been frozen all winter was beginning to show signs of life again. Each day the trickle of water became larger until eventually the last of the snow and ice melted away leaving La Fare to cascade down and create the loudest constant roar throughout the valley.

And as the snow melted we could see what had laid beneath what we had previously been skiing on or inspecting with a sheet of white snow. Huts and other unanimous objects began to emerge from their heavy layers of snow. And all of a sudden Vaujany felt like a different place. We had enjoyed its winter wonderland feel and now were watching in amazement as it came back to life, leaving us in awe of its beauty and able to explore, observe and witness the changes.

Unfortunately, as you would expect, the skiing conditions were quickly deteriorating on the mountain as the days became warmer and the heat of the midday sun turned all of the runs into tracks of treacherous slush, we had little motivation to get up on the mountain each day. We had become skiing snobs, turning up our noses to the poor conditions, as if the mountain was letting us down somehow. We had been so spoilt with perfect conditions that the slush only annoyed us while skiing. But who was complaining, with so much more to explore in the valley now, we kept ourselves busy with walks and treks out into the wilderness that had previously been accessed on skis.

The Vaujany Experience Part 13…….In My Element

2009-06-14T17:28:00.001+01:00

By mid February we had hit half way and instead of talking about how much time we had left on the slopes our thoughts all of a sudden turned to realising we only had 2 full months left. We all of a sudden had that feeling that time was going too quickly and that we didn’t have that much time left. It was like being on a weeks holiday. The best days were always the first 3 days because you felt that you still had the rest of the week ahead of you. But after that thoughts always turn to having to return to normal life and having to pack up and leave. And that is what I found myself thinking about. The day I would have to leave the wonderland that I had found myself in.

I had fallen in love with the lifestyle and I just wanted more and more. I was in my element all of a sudden and I couldn’t bring myself to think about the end because I didn’t want it to. I had this overriding feeling of wanting it to go on forever, to have an endless amount of days to span out in front of me to look forward to…..

And if a jeanie had have appeared into my life during that time and handed me a lantern to wish upon, I would have wished for those days to continue forever…..

As the weeks in February rolled on, I realised I didn’t have a care in the world. I was completely encapsulated within the bubble of Vaujany and my life I had found and created within it. Gliding down a slope on my skies I marvelled at the sight of the Alps around me, the blue skies and life long friends I had made all around me. They were perfect moments. Not a day seemed to go by without one of those moments occurring. I’d stopped worrying about my abilities in my new found role as chef or having to learn how to ski. I could now do it all effortlessly and I was finally carefree and able to enjoy it all.

As I skied the mountain everyday, I came to feel as if I belonged on the mountain, in the grandeur of the Alps and the crisp mountain air. I felt as if it was all meant to be. At last I was living for each day, free as the birds and the clouds that roamed the skies and I had the land of the magnificent French Alps to thank for that.

The Vaujany Experience Part 12…….Welcome to the Kick Ski Big Brother House…..The every changing Kick Ski Family!

2009-06-09T16:25:00.002+01:00

We began the season nine strong! Two Aussies, two Welsh, one Grecian and four English. We were an eclectic bunch but by the end of the five months the Kick Ski team would be dwindled down to only seven members. With I being the lone Aussie amongst six other English! Needless to say I have been spending a lot of time with the English and I have to apologise for my ‘Aussie with a hint of added English accent!!’ which my best friend pointed out to me as we spoke on the phone. Much to my horror. You will all have to beat it out of me when I eventually come home!

So as you can see, it’s fairly obvious to see that the Kick Ski team certainly went through some changes over the five months. There were times during the season that we all felt as if there was some sort of curse that had been put on anyone wearing a kick ski polo shirt! As it was, only 3 of the employees made it all the way to end of the season and completed their contracts. And I am proud to say that I was one of them! There were times when we joked that it was like being on Big Brother……”and this week in the Big Brother house, tensions have been high, Tori has left the house leaving her boyfriend Phil behind, with the much anticipated Matt entering the house, livening things up!” It was just mad.

Our company director and owner, Darren from Lincoln in the UK began recruiting back in August 2008. I was the first employed and from then on he added Phil and Tori, a couple living in Lancaster, Sophie a horse mad West Sussex girl, Brad and Fern, a couple from Wales and Paul our Chef and a fellow Aussie. Wendy our chalet manager had already worked for Kick Ski the previous year and was returning for yet another sterling season.

It didn’t take long for the first blow to come. The first housemate to take the hit was, as I have previously written, our chef from Franrick Lodge. Paul exited the Kick Ski ranks on day eight of his five month contract. Unfortunately for Paul his cooking left much to be desired and he just didn’t fit the Kick Ski mould……Enter Kim as chef with Phil and Tori left as the remaining chalet hosts for Franrick Lodge!

The dreaded curse reared its head again on the 5th of January, my Birthday, when Brad our chalet and ski host from our other chalet, La Maitreya broke his ankle on “Le Tunnel” a deadly black run, so named because you have to enter an underground tunnel that cuts through the mountain and spits you out onto a steep mogul field the other side. Fortunately we were able to keep Brad on, he was able to have his ankle operated on in France and avoided being sent back to the UK. It was touch and go for a while, as Fern our chef in La Maitreya had decided to also leave if Brad had to be sent back to the UK for treatment. This was of course mostly out of our control and in the hands of the insurance company. Again tensions in the house were high, as we didn’t know if we would again find ourselves down another chef and two further members. We couldn’t afford to loose anymore staff. Not only were we a chalet host down in Franrick Lodge but we were also now down a chalet host in La Maitreya, due to Brad being out of action with his broken ankle, leaving just Sophie and Fern to run the chalet on their own. This was just what we needed after the manic period of Christmas and New Year weeks. We still hadn’t even felt like we had found our feet yet or begun to settle in and already life in resort was shaping up to be a minefield of disasters, one after the other.

I should probably point out at this stage that as a chalet host your required to be able to drive guests to and from the airport, be able to ski host guests three days a week on the slopes, clean rooms efficiently and help serve during breakfast and dinner services, helping the chef in anyway that is needed. It’s a big job and unfortunately not all the employed chalet hosts fitted all of these criteria. Tori unfortunately didn’t have a drivers licence and couldn’t ski host, which meant she was left to clean the chalet constantly, Brad was now obviously out of action which left Sophie to drive, clean, serve and ski host guests in our other chalet. A massive task for my gutsy, petite, 5 foot roommate. Thus we were all finding things pretty tough. I was still finding my feet within the kitchen and we were all still desperately trying to adjust to the changes happening around us and adapt and cope as best we could.

The blows were coming in quick and thick at this point as Tori decided to leave the Kick Ski Big Brother House on the 10th of January; only five days after Brad had broken his ankle. Unfortunately Tori had found the whole experience very tough and as she was spending most of her time cleaning, which she had not anticipated, she was not a happy camper, thus deciding to leave. This obviously again, made us edgy, as there was the potential that we would also loose Phil, her boyfriend as well. But Phil luckily decided to stay on and became the star chalet host within Franrick Lodge.

Enter the newest member of the team to the house. Matt joined us only a few days before Tori left. Matt, a ski mad Englishman, had just been fired from a team working in Italy (although he forgot to mention the ‘fired bit’ during his interview process) and thus joined our team, just at a time when we all needed some new blood to come and liven things up a bit. We were all in need of a break, totally exhausted and worn out emotionally and physically.

Loosing Tori was obviously a massive blow for us, especially Phil. But we soldiered on and eventually found a rhythm which seemed to work for a while. January was a relatively quiet month on the slopes and there were weeks when La Maitreya wasn’t booked with any guests at all, so we were able to go on a roster system and share the work load and savour some much needed time off. It was utter luxury to have a night off. Fern and I were obviously the luckiest as the two of us could share the cooking duties and all of a sudden I got very used to being able to relax in the evenings and explore the resort during times when I would usually be working in the kitchen.

January went by with us all being able to recuperate and finally find our feet. We skied almost everyday and partied just as much! It seemed that just as the work load decreased we upped the anti in terms of skiing and partying! January turned into a great month, but then came February….

February is notoriously busy on the slopes as it coincides with English and French school holidays and of course the best snow falls. We were back to working really long hard weeks again with both chalets at capacity. To get us through the busy period Darren employed our next newest member of the team; Jack, from Manchester. Another Englishman! Jack came into our lives and fitted into the team perfectly. He didn’t need telling what to do, he just did it. He was our resident comedian all of a sudden. He made us laugh with his many hilarious accent impersonations and jokes. He serenaded us with his guitar skills and made us all try and keep up with his drinking habits, which we all failed at miserably! I guess it’s alright for those of us who are 6 foot giants!!

So there I was, Chef with my three bitches! Phil, Matt and Jack. We all had a great time working together in Franrick Lodge. Dinner services landed up being nights filled with jokes being pulled at one another, tea towel whipping competitions, moments of choreography of silly dances that we would later taken into the swallow bar, and just the usual banter and sing-a-longs to songs which became favourites of the season. By the end of the night we were all tired from laughing so much. It came across too, as the guests always made comment about how well we all seemed to get along and how happy we were all the time. The chalet now had a great vibe and the season finally felt like it should.

And just as we had peaked and really begun to enjoy the season, the next blow came. Darren announced that redundancies would be happening in March due to poor bookings for the end of the season. It had been a tough season in terms of bookings, with the global economic crisis affecting the ski resorts and tour operators really hard. So we went from having too little staff at the beginning of the season, to eventually recovering with Matt and Jack joining the team, to then being told that we needed to reduce the numbers again. Yet more change and this time it could be any of us leaving. For most of the remaining weeks of the season, only one chalet was booked with guests. So the possibility of only needing one chef was quite high. I was seriously worried that it might be me leaving as it would make sense to get rid of a chef’s wage with only one chef needed. I was literally shaking in my boots hoping that my season wasn’t over. I was sure that if one chef had to go, it would be me, as I was sure that Darren wouldn’t make the other chef, Fern redundant. Surely not, as she was one of the original chefs employed and I was just the new recruit, pretending to be a chef!

And so redundancy procedures began. We were each interviewed at random and taken through a series of criteria which was supposed to determine our ability and contributions within the team. Criteria such as work ethic, team spirit, skills base, flexibility etc. To my absolute surprise I was praised during my interview and was apparently excelling at my job within the Alps. It came with even greater surprise that Fern, the other chef and her boyfriend, Brad were the ones to be made redundant.

So there we were, with 6 weeks left of the season to go, I was the sole remaining chef, left to take care of two kitchens and all of the food stocks. Even though Fern and I had worked closely together, each of our kitchens were our own domains. It was a huge task to try and maintain two kitchens and to keep a tab of all the stock that was in each store room. With only 6 weeks left I also had to start getting creative in the kitchen trying to use up all of the stock which had accumulated in the store rooms.

On top of these new responsibilities I was also required to train Sophie as the next in line chef. For the final busy two weeks of the season both chalets were booked to capacity for one last time. So she had to be ready to be able to cater for at least 20 people in a matter of four weeks and I had to get her there! In weeks when Franrick Lodge was empty I had to move locations and work out of La Maitreya’s kitchen, with Sophie shadowing me all the time, learning everything that I was doing. I had to teach her all of my recipes and show her how to find the rhythm of orchestrating a 6 course evening service smoothly as she would be doing it herself soon enough. Sophie was a natural cook thankfully and excelled at it. She certainly had hidden talents lurking under the surface and it was great to see her blossom in her new found role for the final two weeks of the season.

And so as the end of the season rolled in and the final guests finally drove off, those of us left standing by the side of the road, waving goodbye to the guests all took a massive breath of air and exhaled with a sigh of relief that could have been heard from the opposite side of Alpe D’Heuz. We had ridden the many unexpected ups and downs of the season and were grateful to have survived the changes and made it to the end. Phil, Sophie and I, the only original members of the Kick Ski team who had made the pilgrimage to Vaujany back in December had weathered the storm and survived the curse!

And some of us had even flourished in it. Sophie, my roommate and now fellow chef and I, had both begun the season as chalet hosts but would both be leaving with new found career paths. And with Phil and I now ready to take on the responsibility of running our own chalet, all three of us were hooked. We had become hardcore seasonaires who couldn’t wait for the winter to hurray up and return for yet more fun in the Alps! We must be mad!!

The Vaujany Experience Part 11……Social Skiing

2009-06-09T16:22:00.001+01:00

For us seasonaires, skiing on the mountain was just as social as being in resort. Of course, there were days when you craved a day of skiing on your own with nothing but your own thoughts, your ipod plugged into your ears and your favourite runs. But the best fun had on the mountain was when we would all ski in a large pack, picking up friends along the way and people dropping off and finding their own paths back to resort. Word would go round in resort, to meet up in the snow park to watch whatever comp was happening that day, or “be on the grid at midday ready to get on the cable car, if you’re not there then you’re going to miss all the fun!”

As seasonaires we all knew the mountain so well and it became our own. We knew the best way to avoid the cues, the quickest drags, the best off piste runs and the best cliff jumps to attempt if you were feeling bold! Each day would be different on the mountain. The people you skied with changed each day, the conditions, the snow and of course where you skied. There were no two days the same, which is what made it so appealing and why you could continue to do it day in day out. There was always somewhere new to explore and as a group we could always count on stumbling along a new route or a new jump to try.

Some days on the mountain also turned into massive drinking sessions in the snow park. When a comp was organised you could guarantee there would be a group of Ski Peak and Kick Ski seasonaires situated with perfect views of the jumps where they could see the best stacks of the day and cheer on the unbelievable tricksters who momentarily swapped snow for air time!

And if the drinking didn’t start on the mountain, it was sure to start directly after back in resort. Lazy afternoons spent sitting in the sun with an après beer or two at Ski Peaks Rissou Hotel was a routine we all fell into. Without much encouragement I must add! It was a great way to hang out and relax before heading back to work for the evening. We would chat about anything and everything and just generally joke around. But mostly we chatted about our day on the mountain or the local gossip that was going around in resort that week.

Good times!

The Vaujany Experience Part 10........A Day in the Life of a Seasonaire

2009-06-09T16:21:00.001+01:00

Don’t get me wrong; despite the skiing being our release and while I may have made most of you insanely jealous of my endless days spent skiing, there was also the work side of things. Daily life within a ski resort usually involves a mixture of strict work routines which can never be broken, long work hours spent alongside free time to get out skiing or socialising.

With the exception of my one day off a week, when I would blissfully sleep in and not even look at food if I could help it, my daily routine began at 7am every morning, when my alarm would ring into my ears, abruptly waking me from my much needed sleep. As I woke and looked out my window to the valley below and the surrounding mountains, I would quickly make an assessment of how much snow had fallen overnight thinking of the slopes that day and how good the skiing would be while calculating how long it would take to dig the minibus out of the snow. And after all of that, calculate how long I had in the shower before I had to get dressed and run out the door to the minibus so we could all drive up into the village and arrive at the chalet by 7:30am. Come to think of it, there was way too much thinking going on too early in the morning!! But that was what it was like 6 days a week for 5 months. GO GO GO! From the very minute you woke up until you decided to crawl back into your bed at whatever time you decided to inflict on yourself.

Arriving at the chalet at 7:30am and walking into the kitchen each morning, I automatically turned the oven on straight away and placed the croissants and pain chocolate that had been proving overnight in the oven, ready for the 8am arrival of the guests for their breakfast. I then quickly whipped up a cake ready to go in the oven before 8am, which is when the orders for the breakfast hot option of the day would begin to rattle around in my head. Three more scrambled eggs with smoked salmon, two orders of porridge, one without milk and two more hot waffles, one with chocolate sauce and the other with…..Oh Damn!! I don’t remember! It was chaos most mornings and from 8-9am I pretty much didn’t move from the stove as I cooked eggs in all their varying ways, waffles, pancakes, porridge, grilled mushrooms and so on, for the guests.

After 9am, when all the orders were finished and the other members of staff were clearing the dining room, washing all the dishes and cleaning the guests rooms, I got to work preparing for the meal that night, which usually involved de-boning, stuffing or marinating meats, chopping vegetables, making the desserts and having as much as I could ready to go for when I came off the slopes and got back into the kitchen. I became quite good at having everything super-prepared, which made my life in the kitchen during each dinner service very easy and stress free. I could usually finish all of my prep for the day, and have the afternoon cake out on the dining table by about 10:30am and have cleaned down the kitchen by about 11, which is when the day became my own. I was free to go skiing, back to bed, to the pub or to the pool, sauna, spa or gym to indulge in something other than skiing. Invariably as soon as we all finished our work in the chalet, we would all throw our ski gear on, grab our skis and head straight out onto the mountain for the day. Making the most of each hour on the piste. The day was ours….

And by about 4pm we would pull our tired bodies off the mountain after skiing hard all day and make our way back to the chalet, grab a quick shower and change back into our work clothes ready for the onslaught of the guests to come in from there mammoth day on the slopes. If I had to prepare a childrens dinner then I was usually back in the kitchen by about 4:30-5pm, otherwise I usually didn’t have to start work again until roughly 6pm, for the 7:30pm adults dinner service. I somehow had perfected the art of being able to prepare a 6 course dinner service into just an hour and a half!

Dinner services usually ran with either Wendy or Darren acting as the MC for the evening. Pouring the wine at the dinner table for guests and just generally adding to the atmosphere of the evening, while Phil, Matt and I looked after the kitchen and serving of the courses. At 7:30 guests would come down from their rooms and be greeted with a selection of canapés with wine. This gave the chalet hosts a good opportunity to hear all about the days events on the slopes and to generally just chat and mingle with the guests. Once the guests were seated at the table, we would serve the starter, followed by a quick palate cleanser, which gave me an extra few minutes to plate the main course after I had politely excused myself from the table and ran back into the kitchen, from eating the starter course. The main would be served, followed by a cheese board, which is very French as they prefer to eat cheese before having their sweet dessert. Following dessert Darren or Wendy would offer the guests tea, coffee or liqueurs while Phil, Matt and I got back in the kitchen. The boys got to work cleaning all the dishes and keeping the industrial dishwasher going while I gave the kitchen a thorough cleaning. Equipment, utensils, the hob, surfaces and floor all had to be spotless each night, as you would expect. We would usually be finished by about 9:30-10pm each evening. Which is when we could all relax after yet another days work in the Alps.

As if we hadn’t had enough fun for one day, as if we weren’t all tired enough, most nights we would traipse a path through the snow to Steifs Bar or the Swallow, for a game of pool and a few drinks. Well that’s if we were able to silence the sensible parts of our brains which was usually telling us to go home and get a good nights sleep. But invariably the party would begin and once it had begun, it was hard to drag yourself away and miss out on all the fun! This was when the “Ill sleep in May” statement came flying out of our mouths.

You never quite knew what to expect each time you walked through those bars doors. Some nights it would be dead quiet and you could get away with just having a game or two of pool and a few drinks catching up with friends within the village. But some nights, usually the ones when you least expected it, would turn into massive nights of mayhem and fun. Some of our best nights out were those that happened on the spare of the moment.

One of my most memorable nights out was a Thursday night when Darren, Phil and I decided to go to the swallow bar for a game of pool and a quiet drink and landed up being the only people left in the Bar when Vince, the owner decided to lock us in with him until 3 or 4 in the morning, with drinking games and dancing on tables a plenty. The notorious ‘lock in’ was to be avoided at all costs if you needed to be sober for work the next morning, but sometimes there was just no escaping them. Needless to say I was the laughing stock the next morning while trying to cook pancakes for 20 odd guests! Which is when I would swear to never do it again! But of course there was always a next time….

There were nights I would walk away from the bar and begin the 20 minute walk down the hill from the village back to our staff chalet at 5:30 in the morning knowing that I had to get to bed for at least the hour I could manage. Why did it do it to myself?!!

For some the après (partying) is the best part of the season. And without it your season just wouldn’t be the same but speaking from experience striking a balance between all the aspects of resort life is paramount. The tricky balance between work, skiing and partying is hard to find at times but totally essential for your season to be enjoyable and successful. As the consequences for neglecting or indulging in either of them can be dire.

With the exception of our changeover days on Saturdays and Thursdays when I would do the weekly shop in Grenoble, pretty much everyday existed just as I have described. Us seasonaires became creatures of habit, doing the same thing, day in day out and who could blame us for it! I know you’re all secretly jealous!

The Vaujany Experience Part 9…….”Yes Chef! 5 Minutes Chef!”

2009-06-06T20:05:00.002+01:00

If skiing was supposed to be the only challenge I thought I was going to be faced with during the ski season, I was in for the biggest shock of my life! Skiing was a piece of cake, a walk in the park compared to the challenge I was about to be faced with…..

On the same day as we were all enjoying our first day on the slopes in Alpe D’Heuz the appointed Chef for Franrick Lodge (the lodge I worked in) was being fired and driven straight to Geneva airport by Wendy, our Manager. This was obviously a massive blow for all of us. It was the right decision made for the team and the reputation of Kick Ski at the time. I had anticipated its eventuality for many days and was thankful it was still setup week and guests hadn’t arrived yet.

Within that first week of arriving in resort I had become the chef’s sous chef. I was eager to learn from a professional chef. So with my willingness to learn I took interest in the kitchen and was cooking many of the puddings and vegetarian meals on his request. Unfortunately I quickly realised that my eagerness to cook was actually hiding some of his great weaknesses as a chef. Much to my disappointment and amazement, the chef had no idea how to cook cakes or desserts, nor the imagination to come up with enjoyable vegetarian meals, let alone some other very basic elements of cooking. Of course I found this quite worrying and at night, after cleaning all day and spending many many hours awake, I would somehow stay awake until sometimes 3am in the morning trawling through recipe pages on the internet. I could see that we needed a back-up plan, in case of the eventuality that I could foresee becoming a reality. I knew I had to be ready to jump into the role, because finding a chef at this late stage, with guests literally arriving in a matter of days was not an option. I knew I would have to be the one to put my hand up for the job.

So it was no real surprise to me when I learnt that the chef had been fired. And it was in that moment that I knew what I had to do. I chatted with the other chef employed to run the kitchen in our other chalet. I talked to her about the possibility of taking on the role. Thankfully she was full of encouragement and knew that I would be perfect for the position. She had seen my cooking over the last week and had been impressed. She urged me to speak to Darren, our director and owner of the company. But first I wanted to talk it over with the rest of the team to gauge their confidence in my ability. Thankfully, they were also very supportive, so with their backing I went to Darren and said “If you are willing to give me a go, ill do it! Ill step up and become Chef!” I couldn’t believe the words coming out of my mouth. What on earth was I getting myself into? I was supposed to be having an enjoyable season working on the slopes with little to no stress involved. I wanted a job with no responsibility for once, yet here I was completely changing my season forever and beginning a new career path! I knew the amount of work involved and how it would affect my season, but it was a challenge I was willing to accept. I simply couldn’t let the opportunity slip me by. It had only been weeks earlier while I was in Devon that I had looked into becoming a chef. I had decided it was something that I wanted to pursue as a way of continuing to travel around the world. So when the opportunity arose I knew it was meant to be.

So I strapped on an apron and got into ‘MY’ kitchen! I had two days to familiarise myself in my new surroundings and set it up the way I wanted to before the first guests arrived. I didn’t get much time to develop a menu plan that I could feel somewhat confident with, so I was running by the seat of my pants!

I have always loved cooking, it has always come very naturally to me. Being brought up in an Italian family, I had developed a deep love and passion for food. I feel comfortable within a kitchen and I find cooking very relaxing and somehow therapeutic and even now after cooking for five months straight I am lucky enough to still feel like that when I am cooking. I love finding new recipes and playing around with their flavours and ingredients, making them into my own or learning a new skill in the kitchen and mastering a new dish.

So there I was, newly appointed CHEFETTE!! Promoted after only 8 days! My new role meant I had to be responsible for the smooth running of my kitchen, making sure all the staff were fed well and abided by strict food safety and hygiene requirements. My kitchen, storeroom and food stocks were all my responsibility. As was feeding the guests of the 28 person chalet, whom were counting on me to provide beautiful meals for their much anticipated once a year skiing holiday! I had to drive to Grenoble (an hour away) each week to do the weekly shop and menu plan within a strict budget.

On the cooking front, each day I had to provide a hot option as well as the usual continental breakfast spread between 8-9am, have afternoon tea, cakes and biscuits laid out in the dining room ready for the guests arrival off the slopes in the afternoon, before preparing and cooking a 2 course meal for children at 5:30pm and a 6 course evening meal for the adults at 7:30pm. And all of this was done day in day out, 6 days a week! On top of this of course, I had to provide a vegetarian option for each course each night and cater for any dietary requirements for the guests and staff. Consequently I didn’t leave the kitchen for most of December while I was finding my feet; and by my birthday on the 5th of January I had only been able to get up onto the mountain a total of 5 days! It wasn’t turning into the season I had expected, but I was loving it.

I was thoroughly enjoying the experience of cooking and being chef and although I was incredibly stressed and under intense pressure most of the time, it was only because I wanted to be the best that I could be at my new found career. I set myself high standards and wouldn’t allow myself to feel confident until I had perfected a dish. I became very focussed within the kitchen. Often going into my own little zone, trying to orchestrate and time manage the smooth running of 6 courses without a hiccup during the nightly service. At any given time I might have had 3 things going on the stove, 4 trays in the oven to worry about all while I was finalising the last of the canapés ready to go out for guests with their pre-dinner drinks. My head was constantly on overload in the kitchen, I couldn’t for a second let my mind rest. But eventually with time and practice it did calm down and I found a rhythm within the kitchen as I began to understand the ebbs and flows of how to orchestrate such a mammoth task each evening.

At the dinner service the staff and I were expected to sit and eat at the table with the guests throughout the 3 main courses, invariably this meant that I would be sitting with the guests answering their badgering questions of where I had learnt to cook or how I had landed up working in the French Alps all the way from little old town of Melbourne in Australia? All the while all I could think about were the beans boiling on the hob, hoping they were boiling by now, or the leg of lamb roasting in the oven and hoping that it wasn’t overcooking. It’s lucky that I have always been a fast eater because I found myself sitting down; eating the meal very quickly, excusing myself from the table and racing back to the kitchen to start serving the next course. It became an art I eventually landed up perfecting. Each night the menu had to be planned so that I didn’t have to be in the kitchen every minute and I could sit down at the table without having huge pauses between courses while I cooked the next course.

As Chef I had to take full responsibility for everything that came out of the kitchen and with each course I had to introduce the meal to the guests. I would stand at the top of the table once all plates had been laid in front of each and every guest and proudly introduce the dish they were about to tuck into. I always found this incredibly nerve racking. I felt like a fraud! I wasn’t a Chef but here I was pretending to be one. But as the weeks passed, my confidence grew and I was soon receiving standing ovations and wonderful praise from the guests. I would walk back into the kitchen and pinch myself, thinking, this can’t be real! This cant be my life! How did I land up here? This is just crazy! But it was real and I was doing it….somehow!

As I had just spent 7 months living in Italy in the heart of the beautiful Chianti region of Tuscany, and being of Italian/English/Australian heritage, my menu was a mixture of Asian inspired fresh Australian flavours blended with many Italian dishes with hints of English touches also. I cooked my favourite Tuscan pasta, traditional Tuscan chicken liver pate, my Nonna’s tiramisu and tomato bruschetta recipe. My pannacotta with a stunning mixed berry sauce became a common favourite as did the prosciutto with herbs wrapped pork fillet. I blended these dishes with Asian inspired Australian dishes such as 5-spice roasted duck breast with a tangy peach salsa, soy and mirin glazed salmon, or sage and butter pan-seared scallops and exotic fruit jellies with lychee puree. And as I was mostly serving to English guests I added English touches such as mustard mash, apple and rhubarb pie and of course the good old humble crumble!

Luckily I was able to source great produce. I did the weekly shop at a huge cash and carry warehouse called Metro each week. Metro had everything from a great fish mongers, a huge selection of cheeses as you would expect from being in France, as well as great dairy and meat sections. They sourced produce from all over the world, I could even get frozen New Zealand lamb, kangaroo, and any kind of sorbet you could imagine. I tried out some of the more unusual flavours such as violet, cinnamon and basil sorbets as palate cleansers as well as making my own. The fresh produce was brought in from all over the world. Fresh figs from brazil, plums, nectarines and peaches from South America, avocados and melons from Costa Rica and pomegranates and pink grapefruits from Egypt. The selection was fantastic which meant I was free to experiment as much as I liked with my menu whenever I wanted. It was such a contrast from being in Italy where ONLY seasonal produce is available.

So my confidence grew and the staff’s boredom with the same meals week in week out became apparent I began experimenting with new recipes. Researching new recipes and trying new things became a new found past time that I enjoyed and a way for me to continue to push myself. By the end of the season, having cooked for 5 months straight, 6 days a week, you could say my cooking repertoire has somewhat improved!

And with 5 months cooking experience under my belt, I am ready to take on new challenges within the kitchen. Allowing this new found career path to carve a route around the world for me for a while. Who knows, I may become a creature of the winter season, following the snow capped mountains from the northern to southern hemispheres for many years to come! Cooking my way around the world! Bring it on!!

The Vaujany Experience Part 8……Creatures of the Mountain

2009-06-05T20:55:00.000+01:00

There were many times during the season when life in resort would become too much, when you would be feeling quite down, fed up or upset by something. It’s hard to explain but within the bubble we were living in, it became very hard to get any perspective on issues, which meant that even the littlest things could get to you easily. And skiing became the only release we had. It was our escape. Once on the mountain, to me, the rest of the world didn’t exist. It was my refuge, where I could allow myself to become consumed in the grandeur of the scenery and the happiness I felt while skiing. I became a creature of the mountain, wanting to spend every waking moment on the slopes.

I remember thinking to myself, day after beautiful day on the slopes that “this is the life!” Skiing everyday and living within a ski resort almost felt like a defiance that a real world actually existed. I found myself feeling guilty that I was able to have so much fun and enjoyment from such a simple thing as skiing. The guilt as I strapped on my boots each day and made my way down the escalator to the cable car about to begin yet another day of wonderful skiing always got to me. At the back of my mind I would think about all the people all over the world working 9-5 office jobs, staring at a computer screen all day while I was spending my days on the slopes skiing with friends and having an absolute ball, resisting the clutches of the real world. What a life!.....

The Vaujany Experience Part 7…...The Great Escape

2009-06-05T20:54:00.002+01:00

I could drive to the chalet for work in the morning and look out the window towards the mountain and only see a white blanket of cloud. Literally only being able to see the roof tops in front of me. I would stand at the window in the morning during breakfast service hoping it would clear or break at some point to give me a glimmer of hope that it was only valley cloud and that above it all, a new world existed! So as soon as I got into the cable car and started the ascent, the anticipation and hope quickly building with each meter that we climbed, hoping at any moment to break through the cloud and find a new world above it all. That moment as the cloud started to thin and the blue of the sky began to open up to us was one of the best feelings I experienced each day I went up onto the slopes. Breaking through to sunshine and clear blue skies and finding a new world above it all, was one of the most amazing experiences of the season. And once you are standing on the slopes, feeling as if you are on top of the world, you are instantly transported to a different place. I would stand on top of the mountain looking down towards where I knew our village should be and only see a blanket of fluffy white clouds, simply leaving any work hassles and life in resort behind. I was free to enjoy the beautiful sunshine reflecting off the snow and the joy of skiing.

The Vaujany Experience Part 6…….What are these two planks attached to my legs?

2009-06-05T20:49:00.001+01:00

Undoubtedly the greatest thing about working a ski season is the skiing. If it weren’t for the skiing I don’t think any of us mad seasonaires would continue to put ourselves through the torture of the long hours, sleep deprivation and put up with the lousy pay. But the shear exhilaration, THAT thrill and joy as you glide down a piste, feeling the cold wind on your face quickly becomes utterly addictive.

As some of you know, when I arrived in Vaujany at the start of the season I had the huge pressure of having to learn how to ski within a few weeks. As part of my job I had to be able to ski host guests on the slopes 3 days a week, which meant that I had to learn quick!

I had taken some dry ski slope lessons back in Plymouth, but nothing could have prepared me for the actual event of skiing. On our 8th day since arriving in the Alps, after we had spent the previous week working ourselves into the ground, opening up the chalets, we set off to the larger resort, Alpe D’Heuz for our first day out skiing. We were all obviously excited and as we began the windy ascent up to the mammoth resort, I began to feel sick with anticipation. What was I getting myself into? I could feel the pressure of having to master a new skill building within me. I had no choice but to have to learn, and although I wanted to, I still felt that nervous anxiety at the possibility of not being any good at it, or not liking it. My mind was buzzing with thoughts of “What if I can’t do it?” What is I hurt myself, or freeze up with fear?.....my season will be over before it has even begun!”

But despite all of my thoughts and fears, I went into focussed, determined, ‘capable of doing anything Kim mode’, ready to take on the challenge and to apply myself to learn quickly. Darren, the director, had assured me that I would pick it up quickly, although I had no idea how he had qualified that statement! So there I was kitted out in my snow gear with these two planks attached to my boots, about to get onto my first chairlift. The snow was perfect; the conditions perfect, I only hoped that my day would land up being just as perfect.

Watching other skiers, glide and turn effortlessly down the piste, I was instantly transfixed and jealous of how it must feel to be able to ski so beautifully. In that very instant, I was determined to become as good as those skiers, I was going to make it my mission for the season. So off I went, full of determination and a belly full of butterflies! I glided off the chairlift in perfect snow plough formation. Bringing myself to a complete stop at the top of the piste, looking down at what was about to be my first ever run! Of course none of us knew the resort well at that point, so I went in blindly and decided to take my first run on a blue slope (one up from the green beginner runs).

I quickly found out that snow was much more slippery than the plastic on a dry ski slope and that stopping or turning on snow was a lot harder than I had anticipated. As I began my first descent, I built up too much speed and crashed spectacularly about 50 meters later. I landed in the meter deep powder off piste and lost both my skis! I was buried deep in the snow. Eventually I trudged my way out of the powder and made my way back to the piste to try again. Much to my relief my first fear had been conquered; it didn’t hurt to fall over in snow!! And so I clipped back into my skis and tried again and again and again. I eventually made it to the bottom of my first run about 30 minutes later and after about 10-15 more spectacular falls I decided to take myself off to the nursery slope! But I persevered, I wasn’t going to be beaten, giving up was not an option, and besides I was having too much fun to give up!

My day hadn’t been quite the perfect day that I had envisaged but I had learnt a lot. I had quickly developed the beginnings of a burning desire to excel at this new found sport. I learnt that the trick to skiing was to trust your skis; to use your edges and weight correctly.

Soon after that first day skiing in Alpe D’Heuz, my circumstances changed and my role within the team changed, meaning I wouldn’t need to ski host guests any longer. The initial challenge and pressure of having to learn to ski at such a rapid pace was lifted from my shoulders and I was free to learn in my own time. I was able to let my confidence build slowly without having to push myself or bluff my way through ski hosting! I now had an even bigger challenge to master, the kitchen! But more about that later….

On my second day skiing I attempted my first red run, I would have made about 100 snow plough turns on the run but I made it to the bottom and felt the sense of achievement at being able to ski into Alpe D’Heuz from Vaujany. I could now ski anywhere! Even if it was still at a snail speed pace!!

Thankfully, for my 25th Birthday, the kick ski team all pitched in and bought me a private ski lesson with an ESF instructor. I was wrapped! I had got myself to a standard where I was able to easily go down blue runs and was attempting more and more red runs each time I skied. I was still snow ploughing but I was beginning to feel out the technique of parallel turns more and more. I just needed someone to perfect them with me. So along came Pascal, my wonderful instructor, who in 2 hours turned me into a natural skier on snow! It was brilliant; I all of a sudden felt THE feeling of skiing and from that moment on, no one could stop me. I had my weight and stance corrected, I felt natural in my skis and I had discovered edges! From then on, each day out on the mountain, I explored new places and built up confidence on slopes that had become favourites. My speed was slowly picking up and I was learning at a very rapid pace. I simply couldn’t get enough of skiing.

I still remember ‘the moment’ (after I had begun skiing more confidently) of simply facing my skis straight down the piste and letting go! Allowing myself to go as fast as my skis would take me. Allowing the adrenaline to consume my fear and letting the crazy, playfulness of skiing overwhelm me. I threw my arms and poles into the air and simply looked up to the blue sky and in that moment….I was hooked! I had a smile plastered broad across my face and instantly knew that I had found something that I was going to enjoy for the rest of my life. I fell in love with the sense of freedom, the joy of being on the mountain, surrounded by endless beautiful mountain peaks. I loved the playfulness of skiing and being able to share it with like minded people who had all become friends because we all loved skiing.

To me, skiing is reckless, extreme and playful all in one. The extreme conditions and scenery, mixed with the adrenaline rush, speed and recklessness of throwing yourself head first down a mountain on snow is an incredible mixture. It brought out a playfulness in me that I hadn’t felt since I was a child. I loved the sense of freedom from the fluidity and rhythmic feel of gliding endlessly on the snow. Every day was different, the conditions, snow and visibility changed every day, every hour, and of course that only added to the excitement of it for me.

And now my new found passion for skiing seems to be creating a path for me around the world. I simply can’t wait to hit the slopes again, to continue to perfect and learn the never ending amount of techniques and types of skiing. But mostly, of course to continue to have fun existing in a world of endless days spent on the slopes.

The Vaujany Experience. Part 5……”Ill Sleep In May!”

2009-05-29T15:40:00.003+01:00

The familiar catch cry sung by all seasonaires, “Ill sleep in May!” became somewhat of a motto we all seemed to live by. The wicked tiredness that seemed to constantly lap at our feet, ready to consume us at any point if we didn’t fight it became a constant struggle. It was something to get used to, as there was no point in complaining about it, as everyone was fighting the same battle, you just got on with it and kept the image of your warm, cosy bed in May at the end of the tunnel alight. Burning the candle at both ends of the stick is inevitable during a ski season, its part of the experience and without it your season would be a fraud.

And now that May is here…thankfully. I am finally able to rest. To sleep until my heart is content with the memories of all the fun times lived, constantly with me. Bliss!

The Vaujany Experience Part 4.......Work, Ski and PARTY!!!!

2009-05-29T15:37:00.002+01:00

When it came to night spots within Vaujany, there wasn’t much choice. We had Steif’s bar, Arsen’s café, and Ski Peaks’ the Rissou Hotel for après ski or quiet drinks after work. But our beloved Swallow Bar was the place we all marched off to every Tuesday night. We all filed through its saloon style doors to the university type bar, complete with sticky floors, toilets without locks, pool tables and arcade games! Every Tuesday night there was a band, of varying quality. And nothing would stop us from getting up on the picnic style wooden tables and have a good old boogie to shake out the cobwebs of the previous weeks work. It became our outlet and thankfully all Kick Ski staff had Wednesdays off, which meant that Tuesday nights landed up being rather messy and we were all thankful for the cold yet, sobering walk back down the hill to our staff accommodation in the wee hours of the morning.

The rival English Company in resort was Ski Peak and despite the undercurrent of the rivalry between the two companies, we formed a strong social network and became the ‘English Group’ amongst the Danish, French and Belgium groups within the Village. Part of the fun of Tuesday nights in the Swallow Bar was the guarantee that the Kick Ski crew would meet up with the ‘Ski Peakers ‘and we would all forget what company we worked for and have an awesome night together. We truly made some great friends amongst the ‘Ski Peakers’ and our season would not have been the same without their friendships.

The Vaujany Experience Part 3.......Home for 5 Months

2009-05-29T15:34:00.001+01:00

My home away from home for 5 months was the small village of Vaujany. It is situated at the top of a beautiful valley, right next door to the much larger resort, Alpe D’Heuz. It sits at 1250 metres and has some of the best views and landscapes of the Alps, you could ever wish for. I was certainly blown away by the shear grandeur of the mountain ranges which surrounded the village and the quaint, picturesque village, complete with its original old farm buildings still intact, some dating back hundreds of years.

The resort itself is still very French. Retaining that authentic historic feel and small village essence with a true sense of community. You soon get to know the locals and become apart of the background as a seasonaire. I have made some great French friends as well as English friends whom were also working in Vaujany for the season. The rival English Company, called Ski Peak, employed loads of Australians as well, so I never felt alone amongst all the French and English!

The village, had everything you needed, complete with its own escalator system, claiming to be the longest covered escalator in Europe!! There was a great gym and pool too which was a welcome leisurely change from all the skiing and partying. I frequently used the sauna and spa for my aching legs. Or simply went to the gym or pool for a change from skiing.

To reach the slopes, we took the cable car, which could hold 160 people at full capacity. It took us straight up to the slopes in a swift few minutes, travelling from 1250 metres right up to 2800 metres at the second stage of the lift. The skiing in the Alpe D’Heuz/Vaujany area was exceptional. It hosts the longest black run in Europe, ‘Le Sarenne’, and has great open wide pistes. At its highest point, 3330 metres, we could see the tip of Mont Blanc and ski the glacier.

The chalet I worked in was called Franrick Lodge and it had prime position within the resort. Being only a 1 minute walk to the cable car and with spectacular views, facing out to the waterfall, named La Fare, which was obviously frozen during the winter and spectacularly lit up at night time. But as Spring came in, the waterfall started to flow again. Its noisy flow of water, a constant reminder of the changing seasons and the impending doom of the end of the ski season.

Our staff accommodation and other Kick Ski chalet, La Maitreya, were situated 5 minutes drive down the valley, in a small town called Le Perrier. Despite our accommodation being outside of Vaujany, we were thankful to be able to escape the village and hibernate in our very own staff chalet at times. I can honestly say that it is the best staff accommodation I have ever seen. We were well looked after. We had a lovely 3 level chalet, complete with our own balcony with views down the valley towards Allemont, as well as our own kitchen, lounge and spacious bedrooms. I shared the upstairs mezzanine area with Sophie, a lovely, if not messy English girl.

The Vaujany Experience. Part 2……Living within a bubble

2009-05-24T20:39:00.002+01:00

Having been back in Tuscany for only 3 weeks, and with the recent ski season feeling so, what’s the word, recent I guess, I am finding the task of writing about it a true struggle. It’s hard to write about such an amazing period of my life so retrospectively already. How do I begin to capture all of the many adventures, phases, ups and downs of the last 5 months? I simply can’t. I am scared I won’t do it justice. The intensity of the lifestyle which I have discovered and fallen in love with cannot be put into words. The limiting use of language cannot begin to help the reader visualise and experience what it is truly like. Only those, whom have experienced the seasonaire lifestyle and lived this intensity through their own eyes, will understand the world which I have found within a ski resort.

Maybe it has something to do with the grandeur that you are surrounded by in the Alps or the extreme alpine conditions which we are subjected to live in which make the experience of a ski season so intense. Maybe you could blame it on the sleep deprivation from partying too hard, the exhaustion of skiing everyday or the long hours spent cooking, cleaning, and pleasing the guests. I think the truth lies in all of the above, mixed in with the strong friendships and bonds which are formed by all seasonaires alike and the knowledge that time doesn’t wait for anyone. Spring will arrive and that these too short 5 months are here to be lived and not simply passed by. You quickly learn to never waste a day. When the fresh powder has fallen, we all drag our weary heads up to the slopes and find a new world above it all.

The Vaujany Experience. Part 1……The Next adventure

2009-05-24T20:35:00.001+01:00

I embarked on my next adventure on the 1st of December 2008. I was to begin working as a chalet host within the small village of Vaujany in the French Alps. I was about to join a team of 9, whom I had never met, for the small company of Kick Ski to run their two well appointed chalets in the heart of the Isere region of France. I honestly had no idea what I had got myself into. Not in my wildest dreams could I imagine what was in store for me. Or that I was about to find a lifestyle that I would fall in love with and as you will read, arriving into a ski resort wasn’t going to be the only challenge I would be faced with…..

London…….Part 5. Being a Tourist

2009-05-20T16:55:00.002+01:00

In my four days in London, I have to admit, I let the tourist in me come out. Although I was wondering its streets and pavements in the hope of finding its essence, I was drawn into seeing its ‘sights’. I was intrigued by the Tower Bridge, the Big Ben and the Thames. From such a young age, we grow up seeing the Big Ben Clock Tower on the television and hearing about the gates and guards at Buckingham Palace, so I guess it was only natural for me to want to experience London’s sights with my own eyes. Without trying to put you asleep by just rattling off a list of the sights I saw, I will try and find a way in which to describe them, in the light I saw them in.

Without a doubt, one of the best Friday night drinks I have ever had was with Jo and Jacinta at an intimate Jazz bar, just off Carnaby street. The bar was called something about Jazz or All in the Jazz, anyway, something like that. But it was brilliant, it was some of the best live jazz I had ever heard, the atmosphere was relaxed and full of life. It was just great. Sitting there drinking red wine with the girls I found myself understanding exactly why the girls loved London so much.

The next day, I hit the pavement again and decided that I was going to walk along the Thames, exploring the Southbank of London. I found Parliament House and it’s gardens and walked right past as members of Parliament were being interrogated by the many journalists and photographers who had camped out waiting for there arrival that morning. I took in Westminster Abbey, The Big Ben and the London Eye. Walking along the Thames, I watched as the traffic on the river, ploughed away in its chaotic manner. I walked past the Tate Modern and came across Borough Market, just in time for Lunch. I can say without a doubt, that I loved this market more than any other I have experienced. It is a lively hub of activity. It is a food and produce market really where you can absorb so many flavours, and taste some of the worlds delicacies all under the same roof. It was packed, as people stood around trying to decide what on earth to satisfy their hunger with. You could have paella, cooked right in front of you, on the largest pan I had ever seen! Falafel wraps, your choice of roasted meat rolls, almost every type of fudge that you could think of, cheeses, olives, jams, chutneys, juices, ciders and I could go on and on, on and on! I couldn’t believe how much choice there was. Amazing!

I reluctantly left Borough Market and continued along the Thames, eventually climbing the London Tower Bridge and making my way over to a tube station and catching a train to Camden. I had been warned that I would love the Camden markets, so I headed to yet another distinctively different part of London and wondered through the many narrow alleyways of the market stalls. I loved it and instantly felt the vibe of Brunswick Street of Melbourne. Its punk, grunge feel took me straight back to my university days.

The next day, Jo, Sally and I headed back to Borough Market in the search of a good old Saturday morning brunch rendezvous. We tucked into a hot, roast pork roll, topped with sweet apple and cranberry sauce. Delicious! Next stop was Portobello Road Market, which consumed us for hours. I loved it and could have spent hours upon hours exploring all the stores and shops. I am sure I will find myself back there one day soon. That night Jo and I headed to Covent garden to meet Caitlin for dinner in a swanky, buzzing restaurant followed by an essential part of any London experience, the Theatre! The three of us sat and watched as contortionists, acrobatics, and magicians worked there magic in front of us. The show was called La Clique and it was more like a modern day circus show than an actual theatre show, but we all loved it and left feeling as if we had constantly been laughing and sitting on the edge of our seats. It was a real thrill.

On my last full day in London the girls and I all hit Harrods and explored its many levels. I was again overwhelmed by the amount of people, but no where near as much as I was overwhelmed by the grandeur of Harrods. Too much could be said about this world unto itself. So I won’t even start! We then wandered into Hyde park and warmed out hands on some mulled wine. The ice skating seemed appealing but a traditional Sunday roast seemed even more appealing at the time, so we all headed back to Clapham and tucked into a hearty roast dinner followed by a board game or two, to finish off my London adventure.

As I tucked into bed that night, I was too excited to sleep. With the next chapter of my journey about to start I could hardly contain the thoughts that were flying around in my mind. I was apprehensive and excited all in one. Yet again I was excited about the unknown I was about to delve into. I couldn’t wait for the sunrise and consequently didn’t get much sleep that night. I knew deep within me that the next five months of my life were somehow going to change me and ignite a passion within me that I hadn’t known was there. And as I waved and hugged Jo goodbye and made my way to Stanstead Airport to meet the people I would be spending the next five months of my life with, I had a deep sense that my new life was about to begin…..

London…….Part 4. A Wonderland of Everything and Anything

2009-05-20T16:54:00.002+01:00

I love how diverse London is. Like Melbourne and many other multicultural cities it has so many different areas, which offer a different vibe, essence, flavour, its own people and inner hum, a different culture, class or status symbol. You feel like you can be transformed into anyone you want to be in each of its differing metropolises.

My senses were on constant overdrive. London is a city where you can get whatever your wildest dreams could think of. All you have to do is imagine it in your mind and you will find it. Your dream pair of shoes, the amazing dish you have been craving to eat, that perfect present that you haven’t been able to find anywhere. It is literally all here, you just have to know where to look.