4.18.2010

London Calling

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...

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...

4.14.2010

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

4.01.2010

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

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

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.

3.31.2010

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

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

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!!

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

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

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

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...

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!

3.09.2010

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

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!

3.04.2010

Blimey!! Two years already....

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...

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!

2.19.2010

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


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

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.

12.11.2009

Once Upon a Time...

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!


With yet another stella ski season now in very near sight, I can truly say it has been a long and winding road throughout the long summer months to reach this ski season. The twists and turns of life seemed to find me yet again before my feet even had a chance to grace their presence on the stone pavements of resort. I don’t know what it is about me that attracts change to an already agreed upon arrangement when it comes to ski seasons, but yet again I have found myself rolling with the punches and adapting to unexpected changes.

I won’t bore you with the small detail; perhaps not even the general detail except to say that I applied to work in a specific chalet with a specific company, with a specific person and the only specific detail I will be arriving into resort with tomorrow is the company I will be working for.

So let me tell you about some of the details of my ski season coming up. As of tomorrow I will find myself living in the ski resort called Morzine, located in the Northern French Alps, in-between Geneva and Mont Blanc. The Chalet I will be working in is called Farmhouse La Desmeuniere. It is a beautiful 18th century farmhouse located at the base of the Morzine slate mines. It sleeps a maximum of 20 guests and I have been employed as the chalet chef for a well established small English company called ‘The Great Escape’. Darren and Sam, the owners of the company have a portfolio of 2 catered chalets and 4 apartments and have been based in Morzine for the last 10 years.

I will be working and living with a British girl called Sophie (that’s right another roommate called Sophie!). Sophie and I have been employed to run the chalet together and while I will do all the cooking, Sophie will ski host, clean and transfer guests. So it’s going to be a very busy 5 months with lots of work for Sophie and me to crack on with.

‘The Great Escape’ team this year consists of 4 girls! That’s right, No Boys! Girl power to the times of 4! Which is something poor Darren (our boss) is still coming to terms with. 4 single girls about to be unleashed in resort....oh dear!

The other chalet, ‘the Alpine Refuge’ will be run by no other than my old roommate from Vaujany...Sophie! Thats right, Sophie couldn’t resist another season with me on the slopes, so she applied and secured the chalet chef position in the company’s other catered chalet. She will be working with a British girl called Joanna who is well versed with the going on of life in resort as she has worked both a summer and winter season in Morzine before.

So with less than 24 hours before I arrive in resort tomorrow I am literally jumping out of my skin with excitement. A season of hard work, plenty of skiing and no doubt lots of fun to be had. I can’t wait for it to all unfold...

11.30.2009

Without a Home

Of late I have had this overwhelming feeling of being rootless; being without a base; a place to call home. And I have to say it’s not a comfortable feeling. Actually quite unsettling. Having now left my little Italian family and my home in Tuscany my whole being is yet again lost in the wonderful world of living out of a suitcase from one destination to the next.

In the weeks leading up to my farewells from Patrignone I had this ever present nagging need that I continued to ignore or face. And that is the need for a base or home here in Europe. With all of my being now feeling quite Europeanised, Australia has its clutches less and less around my heart. With little left to tie me with Australia, except family and friends the need to continue building a life here in Europe is becoming ever stronger. And for those Australians within the audience I can assure you I haven’t come to that conclusion lightly. Home is where the heart is...Right? But what if your affections are divided between two homes, thousands of miles apart? Welcome to my dilemma!

In recent weeks I have travelled from one wonderful destination to the next, From Italy to the French Riviera, to the French Alps, to Paris, to London, to Oxford, Bath, Devon, Worchester, back to London, Brighton, back to Devon and back to the French Riviera again. Yet the most definitive moment through all those amazing experiences was the moment I found myself leaving the hotel in London yet again having made connections with people who had changed my life for the better once again. As I left the hotel in London the concierge ironically said to me ‘have a safe journey home.’ Instantly I felt the blow of such a cruel statement at the very moment in my life when I was struggling with the lack of a home. It was taking all my energy to continue along my mission. Not one part of me wanted to be leaving London. I am so damn tired of moving, of being rootless, of not having a definitive idea of where home is that I almost collapsed on the floor in defeat as life enjoyed kicking the heels in! My energy for meeting new people and exploring new places is dwindling rapidly, and my instinctual need for a place to call home is growing ever stronger.

All I ask is for a place to rest my suitcase full of memories for a bit. A place to call my own. Where I can place all of my belongings, where I can have a pantry and fridge full of food, a cosy sofa, where I can organise my life, where I can have friends and neighbours and enjoy buying my fruit and veg from the local market each week. It’s not much to ask for is it? But let’s not despair; life has a way of sorting these kinds of problems out...Right? I hope so!

And it’s all in your best interests to encourage me along this path, because then of course you will all have a place to crash in Europe! A place to housesit when I decide to go off on another adventure! So my energies are now beginning to concentrate on making some valiant attempts to putting down some roots somewhere! It may not happen tomorrow, it may not happen next year...But I can assure you, I will make it happen! I will have my little apartment in a beautiful Italian or French picturesque port or century old little pad in a Tuscan hilltop Town someday soon!

Long Lost Family


Who knew I had so much family hidden away in little old Europe hey! In recent weeks I have met more family of the Parsons family tree branch variety than I would have every imagined. Here I was thinking my Great Uncle Reg and Great Auntie Margaret were living all the way in ye old England on their own when in reality they have more family surrounding them than they could reach down the street and poke a stick at!

My memories of Reg and Margaret Parsons (my English grandfathers’ brother) are of the hazy recollections of a child variety from when they visited down under some 15 years ago. So I was delighted to find that I had second and third cousins dotted all over the UK, and not one Great Aunt but two! As I found out my Grandfathers younger sister is also alive and kicking with her own children and grandchildren which I am still to meet.

I can’t tell you how nice it feels to know with a short plane flight I could be with family for Christmas and have family to help me understand my heritage even more. And that’s just the English side of my family tree. I’m a little scared to even ask about my Italian family tree branches which I know are lurking in Sicily!

'World Famous!'


We've all got the odd mate in London, friends in Geneva, people we could call on in the US, a couple of Frenchies I'd like to hang out with again, some Canadians who said I should come stay some time....
And you know what?...It sucks!

Some people might like the idea of having friends all over the world, and although I do enjoy it and embrace the opportunity to meet new people every day, a large part of me just wishes I could have my true friends right here, right now! I mean where are my friends I can call up on a whim and meet for drinks after work?

I don't want to know that I could go out for dinner with one of my friends for a few nights if I ever found myself in New York. I want to know that I could go to the pub with them right now! I don't want friends on the other side of the world, I want them on the other side of the street or at least in the same city!

There’s an endless list of positives to travelling, I am not denying those or even remotely dismissing them but obviously there are downsides to every positive and although lack of money, living out of a suitcase, constant moving, missing the special family events, the newborn cousins I haven’t met yet and lack of a home are all obvious negatives to my travelling lifestyle, the worst is definitely not having my true friends and family around me. The bestest of friends, the friends who really KNOW me, where I have come from and what I got up to in high school!

I get to meet all these amazing people, have incredible experiences together, form bonds with like minded people, spend time and energy getting to know them and then I have to bid them goodbye. I tell my story over and over again to these relative strangers in the hope of being able to form a connection and friendship which may last longer than the experience of the time but then the ride finishes and we go our separate ways and all I am left with is an endless list of friendships from times in my life instead of lifelong friends. And how am I left feeling....Alone!

The internet's obviously made it easier than ever to keep in touch with people you meet while travelling. All it takes is a couple of quick clicks, and few minutes of reading status updates, and you can tell what your friend from your 3 days in Cinque Terre is up to these days. The wonder of Skype has also made staying connected with friends and family free and easy as pie! So sure, we swap emails, look each other up on facebook, try to keep in touch....but we both know there's every chance we’ll never see each other again. And that sucks and is becoming incredibly tiring. Besides who wants to spend all their time in front of a computer screen on facebook or typing madly on stupid European keyboards just to stay in touch with ‘friends’. Am I not supposed to be TRAVELLING! And not just staring at a computer screen.

While it’s true that people are generally more open to meeting new people while travelling. The very act of getting from one place to the next, trying to decipher and speak a different language, or just the sheer act of living life in another country allows you to forge close friendships very quickly. But are they friendships worth holding onto for a lifetime? Unfortunately not always. Most of the time you find you actually have nothing in common and are from very different worlds which just aren’t compatible outside the travel destination.

Working within the tourism and hospitality industry also means I get to meet new people every day. Which is great because I get to spend time getting to know them while they get to know me. But then at the end of the week I have to say goodbye and start all over again with the next group. Sound tedious to you....well yeah it is! Very bitter sweet....Welcome to my life!

Have you ever thought about how many friends you make on a day to day basis? Can most of you say that you get to meet 2-3 new people a day where you spend time swapping stories, getting to know each other? And if so, how much energy do you think goes into forming a new friendship? I’m here to tell you, it’s a lot! I am tiring of having to constantly use my now finely tuned judgment in assessing whether it’s actually worth getting to know someone when I know it may not last beyond the week.

Some of you would have said that surely being gunned down by drug smugglers, poachers and pirates should rank fairly high on the list of negatives of travelling and of course they do but considering that these moments happen rarely in the travelling world and meeting and leaving new people happens millions of times a day by people all over the world, far more people are dealing with the hurt of loosing close connections every time the world calls you to a new destination, a new unknown and new people.

But let’s leave this on a positive note shall we. I have plenty of time to mull over my next farewell! Besides who am I to complain, I mean life is pretty good within the kimba chronicles right now. The Snow is falling on the French Alps again, I am gearing up for another 5 months of skiing, partying and working mayhem, I am in the midst of completing yachting courses with a new career move insight all while living on the French Riviera! I have had family and best friends come to visit me and by the end of the week I will yet again find myself back in London with 5 nights of freedom before I become a slave in my beloved kitchen again!

Maybe what keeps me going is actually the fact that having friends all over the world and being ‘world famous’ is actually quite cool and not something to be criticised. Although not having my best friend down the street does just kinda Suck!

10.18.2009

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


In recent weeks I have made some pretty major decisions. With life now coming to an end here at the Villa in Tuscany. My thoughts are beginning to turn to ‘What next?’ With the decision to not return to the Villa made and set in concrete after a little doubt at saying no to yet another amazing season in my beautiful life here in Italy. And with the ski season looming, come December where I will yet again find myself in the chaotic throws of working as a chef within a buzzing French chalet.

My thoughts have turned to the next big dream. The next adventure to chase. The goal I have been harbouring for many months, possibly years. Actually it’s hard to remember when the first glimmer of hope for this dream was ignited within me because I think its just always been there. Having been brought up immersed in the marine lifestyle and spending years of my life on boats I have always loved the nautical life. And now with my developing passion for cooking and need to continue to explore and travel I have decided to begin the process of trying to crack the super yacht industry. Big, white, shiny, floating boats are what I now find myself dreaming about! Cruising the Mediterranean and exploring Italian and French ports are what my thoughts are filled with these days!

While some of you will have no idea what I am talking about, a super yacht is a boat reaching more than 24 meters in length and can either be a motor or sailing vessel. They are the boats you see in ports such as Monaco and Portofino which everyone walks past in envy and wonders who on earth could own such a beautiful thing and lead such an amazing lifestyle! The privately owned or chartered monster boats all equipped with their own spa’s, private masseurs and jet skis hidden perfectly within the hull are what I am hoping to call home for a summer of Mediterranean port hopping!

I know most of you by now are thinking…..”Is she ever going to come home?” I can honestly say the answer to that question is, ‘Yes, but just not yet!’ I am not ready to find my Australian shores just yet. There are more adventures for me to be had in Europe. Although over the last few months I had been planning and looking forward to coming home for a month or two next year, I have decided to put my need for a dose of Australia on hold until I actualise another of my dreams.

So I am booked in for 11 days of intensive yachting courses on the French Riviera at the end of November, gaining certificates and meeting and greeting agencies in the hope of securing a position on an esteemed super yacht next summer. It is an extremely hard industry to crack, with jobs high in demand and networking being imperative I am hoping I can pull it off. All I can say is, the yachting industry better watch out because you all know what happens when Kim makes up her mind to do something, when she wants something badly enough…..She gets it! So let’s hope I can pull this one off and make the next dream a reality.

Bella Toscana…..Part 16.....My Italian-ness

One of the most amazing experiences about spending extended periods of time in places of your heritage means that parts of yourself which correlate to that heritage begin to appear and become understood. Being in Italy I now understand that there are parts to my psyche and nature that are distinctively Italian. Traits of my Sicilian bloodline that have been passed onto me and now allowed to develop and be nurtured due to spending time amongst the chaotic brilliance of my heritage.

As a child, my Australian upbringing taught me to be capable, dependable, reliable, determined, responsible, the most organised and efficient. And I am proud to say that I am all of those things which fit perfectly into the organised world of Australia but here in Italy none of those things seem to matter and the true essence of my Italian-ness has been allowed to shine through.

When you spend enough time in a place where you are able to spend time with the locals watching and observing their traits and daily habits you’re all of a sudden able to see that some of these traits and habits are actually mirrored in your own personality and daily life and you are able to understand yourself on a much deeper level. Like being able to understand every layer of the onion, right to its core.

My love of cooking, along with my motherly, generous nature and strong family values have all been reflected back to me here in Italy. I now understand why I drive like an Italian and why my big bum and thighs are going to be with me for life! Here I don’t feel ashamed of my Sicilian hot blooded stubbornness, but rather pleased to have it alongside me as a useful tool when dealing with contradicting Italians.

I have sat and observed Italians chop and change their minds at will. Swapping between one truth to the next when it pleases them. Always believing they are of course in the right without a doubt in their minds. Which only makes my opinionated and ever changing mind feel free to exercise itself fully here in Italy.

I now understand why I instinctively care about feeding people and making sure that their tummies are well fed as a way of showing my love and care for people. Just as my Nonna did for me, I too realise that my love for cooking and passion while working in the kitchen comes out of wanting to care for people. Feeding people is just what I do and no one bats an eyelid at that here. In fact it’s completely natural and normal.

And although I am not proud to admit this trait, I do love a gossip just as the Italian men and women do. It’s a well known fact within Italian communities that any ones business soon becomes every ones business. Give an Italian a couple of hours and he or she can spread the news all over the world faster than the world media could! Here gossiping is a way of life, something to do, to pass the time. As you pass the old men sitting out the front of the local bar or the women perched on their balconies overlooking the happenings of the village below we all know how they are passing the time in conversation!

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


This is a little chapter dedicated to one of those incidences where life takes you down an unexpected path and sets in motion a series of thoughts which changes your life yet again. I found myself venturing into a book store in Florence as I waited for friends to finish their tour of the Acadaemia. And as I arrived at the small English section, the title of a book ‘The Sicilian Kitchen,’ caught my attention. I was hooked by the images of the cover and hearing myself read that word aloud in my mind “Sicilian” I was immediately transported to the place in my heart where I long to be. My heart skipped a beat and I felt like I was home. The place which my Sicilian grandparents instilled a deep passion and love for their country in me.

I found a seat on the steps of the book store and devoured the book for over an hour. Reading page after page and realising that it was Sicily that I came to Italy for. And yet I hadn’t got there. I had been caught in Northern Italy, within the intoxicating life of Toscana.

Deep down as I keep thinking of my time coming to an end in Italy, I realise I have unfinished business with this country. And maybe I always will. It now feels like home to me, just as much as my beloved Australia. When I came to Italy I had longed to see and embrace my Sicily that I had grown up knowing in my heart. And now all I can think of is my return, and this time my destination will be Sicily.

Bella Toscana…..Part 14......Italian Time!


They say heaven is where the cars are German, the lovers French, the Police English, the cooks Italian, and all organised by the Swiss. And they say hell is where the police are German, the lovers Swiss, the cooks English, the mechanics French and all organised by the Italians! Given the recent events I have witnessed here in Italy I could not agree with this statement more!

As Verity, Carla, Sam and I all ventured into Castellina, expecting a leisurely afternoon in our local town, watching Harvey and his school music class perform their orchestra for the year, we were all hoping with bated breathe that the Italians would pull it off this time….

Harvey and his class mates had been practicing for months, learning their musical notes at a painstakingly slow rate. Although we were quite horrified to hear that Harvey had only learnt three notes by the end of the semester and even more troubled by the idea that we would be turning up to a concert where the children only had three notes in their repertoire to play with!

And in true Italian fashion, just as we all had hoped wouldn’t happen, the Italians made a complete shambles of the whole affair! Not that the Italians seem to mind or even notice of course! But as Verity, Carla, Sam and I waited patiently in our seats for something to happen, it quite simply didn’t!

As we sat patiently in our seats, having arrived timely to allow plenty of time for Harvey to organise himself amongst his class mates and calm his nerves we were quite perplexed to find that nothing had been set up in the concert hall with only half an hour before the concert was supposed to begin.

As I turned to Verity, with one of those looks that we give each other when we realise what we have got our selves into, yet again, she said quite fittingly “Italians couldn’t organise a piss up in a brewery, even if they tried!” The thing is I am sure they could, but it would just take weeks of organising and 20 odd people arguing about where the tables and kegs should go before anything actually got done or any beer was actually drank!

So as we somewhat impatiently sat in our seats watching as the Italians got to work trying to set up PA systems and all the important electrical equipment needed to put on such an extravaganza, we yet again felt cheated and annoyed that our precious Sunday afternoon had been wasted on ‘Italian time’! With the concert starting two hours after the so called scheduled start time, we painstakingly endured a procession of songs consisting of the three musical notes which the school children had learnt, with trumpets and violins being played in typically poorly fashion, all sounding like a hungry cat had just been let out in a bird cage! But of course, we endured all of this with a smile on our faces to make sure Harvey was allowed that sense of achievement which all children crave from such special events.

It’s these kind of experiences that really do make we wonder how anything gets done in this country, but also why I love it so much. Truthfully I actually loved siting and watching as the chaos of the Italianess unfolded in front of my eyes. The passionate yet laid back attitude of Italians may be incredibly frustrating at times but maybe we should all take a leaf out of the Italians book. Maybe we would all be better off for a siesta every now and then and a carefree approach to time.

Bella Toscana…..Part 13…..The Intrepid adventures of Kevin


By far one of the most memorable experiences of this past summer has been the intrepid adventures of Kevin! And if most of you are wondering what on earth I am talking about, let me explain. Kevin is a campervan! Who was bought by three of my Australian friends and so named after Kevin Rudd, the Australian Prime Minister! Who recently gave all Australian citizens of a certain age AU$900! So Ben, Mark and Lachy all decided to use their Kevin Rudd issued surplus money in Europe and bought a Campervan with their hard earned Australian cash! And of course decided to name their campervan after the person who had actually paid for it! Kevin!

The boys whom I know from my High School Padua College days left Australia in June and had already travelled through Spain, Andorra, Norway and France before they headed towards me in Italy.
The Palio was to be the event for our rendezvous. So as the boys arrived just in the nick of time to see the second famous Palio horse race of the year I was able to spend time with some Australian friends and join the adventures of Kevin for two weeks in August as the boys and Beth (Lachy’s university friend) explored Tuscany and surrounding areas.

Again I quickly assumed the tour guide role and was all too happy to show the boys and Beth around the area I now know all to well. I was able to show them around the Villa and surrounding local areas which have become my regular haunts such as Siena and Florence.

So the Tuscan leg of ‘The adventures of Kevin’ go something like this….

The Palio
Ben, Mark, Lachy, Beth and I all found ourselves standing in the scorching summer heat of the Piazza Del Campo in Siena to secure our spot to watch the oldest of Italian traditions. A horse race in which the riders and horses of neighbouring contrada’s of Siena race bareback around the Campo for three hot laps. The rivalry between the contrada’s and the atmosphere which is created in Siena due to this medieval tradition is just amazing and something which should simply not be missed. And as the horses raced around the campo for their three short laps after hours of waiting for the race to actually begin, Siena erupted into a frenzy of celebrations. The Boys, Beth and I soaked up the atmosphere during this time by joining the partying in the streets with the winning contrada. Watching as the horse, jockey and winning flags were paraded around the streets of Siena with a chorus of drummers and singers chanting the winning ‘Civetta’ song. I can honestly say that the Palio has been the highlight of my time in Tuscany and something that I am proud to say I have experienced with such amazing friends.

Florence and some new Irish Friends!
Next we decided to venture to Florence for glimpses of the city renowned for its renaissance art. Unfortunately we seemed to descend on Florence just as the hottest days of this summer descended on Tuscany, which unfortunately for us made the streets of Florence almost unbearable during the day. But as we ventured into the city as the sun went down and the temperatures receded to levels which meant you could walk in a constant clammy stickiness without the possibility of heat stroke, I was able to show the boys and Beth some of the sights. Florence is such a gorgeous city by night and is buzzing with life. So as we headed into a bar filled to the brim with local Italians we were surprised to be met by some Irish barristers standing at the bar drinking cocktails. Now I know most of you won’t believe a word of this story; I find it hard to believe that this part of the adventures of Kevin actually happened, that is why I have to write it down, because then maybe I can begin to believe it myself.

By the end of the night we had made ourselves some new Irish friends and somehow found ourselves thanks to my helpful local knowledge invited out to lunch the next day, with the bill all on them!
Naturally the next morning when we all woke and realised that the state of our conversations the previous night might not have held much weight when weighed up against the severity of our hangovers we were all surprised to find messages on our phones from our Irish friends, Richard and Adrian still wanting us to meet them for dinner that night. I had suggested they visit one of my favourite Tuscan restaurants, set in one of the most amazing Tuscan hilltop towns called Lamole. It is by far and away my favourite restaurant in all of Tuscany and I am now famous there due to the amount of time I have spent on their terrace. So for the simple act of being the local and offering a place to eat for these lovely Irish barristers we all found ourselves invited out for dinner. Although most of us were finding it hard to understand why some 50 year old Irish barristers would want to invite four aussie travellers out for an all expenses paid dinner, we were naturally a little reluctant and doubtful that we weren’t just being taken for a ride and that this was all some sort of joke. But true to their word, they arrived at the restaurant and we sat and enjoyed a lovely three course meal with amazing views, great company and all wine and food paid for by these generous chaps. Amazing! I still can’t quite believe it happened.

When we quizzed Richard and Adrian about their motives for offering us utter strangers to a beautiful free meal we were quite taken back and humbled to find that the reason they had offered this good deed to us was in summary actually there way of making sure that the same similar deed that they were offered as penniless travellers when they were young was allowed to continue in this world. We learnt when Richard found himself in Europe with literally only the exact amount of money it was going to cost him to catch the train to the airport for his flight home plus one extra dollar he was offered a wonderful deed by some relative strangers who decided to give him one last night out in Europe and treated him to a glorious meal and drinks. And it was this deed that sparked the notion that Richard, now a successful barrister should return back to other penniless travellers! There is good in this world after all and how surprising and humbling it is to find that we now find ourselves with that same debt to repay to other young travellers someday….

Cinque Terre
Next on the list of adventures to be had was a visit to the Cinque Terre. After the boys (minus Lachy who had gone off to Norway in search of Love!), Beth and I had cooked a meal for guests at the Villa we all piled into Kevin yet again and headed north to the Cinque Terre where we spent lazy hot summer days lying on sun warmed right next to the Mediterranean sea. With not a care in the world we passed the time dosing on the warm rocks and diving in the sea to view the amazing sea life surrounding us in the crystal clear blue water. It was bliss! And of course, when in Cinque Terre….The famous walk must be accomplished. So on a 35+ degree day we headed along the beautiful coastline and walked the miles of path carved out between the five towns of the Cinque Terre. Some perfect days, which now form perfect memories.

The Adventures Part 2
The boys and Beth left me in late August, after two weeks of intrepid adventures around Tuscany but it wasn’t long before I was able to rejoin the fun times. Come mid-September as Mark and Ben (with Lachy and Beth having moved onto Turkey) docked back into the Italian coastline after their ‘mad’ boat cruise in Croatia I was once again able to meet up with them and come along for the Modena/Venice leg of their travels.

What’s red, shiny, fast and is sin ominous with a little red pony?
But first, the boys had a ‘once in a lifetime’ box to tick so I met the boys in Modena and headed in the direction of the land of red, shiny, fast things! The Ferrari factory and museum! Heaven in any car lovers eyes! Ben and Mark both turned into little school kids at the museum and then turned into mid-life crisis middle aged old men when they paid for the privilege of driving an actual Ferrari around the Italian roads of the Ferrari factory! A 15 minute spin in a Ferrari was enough to make these boys talk absolute gibberish for the next 48 hours! With all the horsepower of a Ferrari at their fingertips they paced their way around the factory at amateur like speeds of 180km speeds in second gear! Not bad boys!

And then…..Venice
Next, the adventures of Kevin took us to the beautiful canals and ponte of Venice. By far and away, without any doubt, my favourite place on this earth! My return to her shores allowed me to once again breathe along with her tides and feel the vibration which this beautiful city resonates at. Visits once again to the islands of Murano, Lido and St Marks Square confirmed my love for La serenissima. Gondola rides with friends through the canals along with dinners in local squares have all been added to my bank of precious Venice moments.

Sad farewells
I was incredibly sad when my aussie friends had to move on and continue their adventures in other parts of Europe. Having friends here with me in this new life I have created in Europe solidified what I miss the most about my life in Australia. Although meeting new people is something I enjoy on a daily basis, it was a refreshing change to be able to be myself and slip straight back into a familiar setting. Nothing can replace the lifelong friends we make throughout our lives, especially those whom know us better than others. It was wonderful to be surrounded by people who already knew me. To not have to go through conversation after conversation about past histories and life summaries. To simply just be understood immediately by my already established friends almost felt like a shock to the system and I made sure I soaked up every minute of it. I loved the ease at being able to chat so idly about mutual friends and moments we had shared in our lives in Australia. Being miles away from friends and family and spending extended periods of time with strangers surrounding your every move can be one of the loneliest experiences of the traveller lifestyle, so it was with great sadness that I farewelled the adventures of Kevin from my life. But with great admiration that some of my best friends in this world came to share such an incredible period of their lives with me. The bonds which they are creating due to their pilgrimage together in my opinion is truly inspirational and something which I envy but am grateful for having been a part of for a brief period of time. Thanks guys!

10.16.2009

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

I am glad to report after 25 and a half years of never tasting a single drop of coffee, in celebration of Mel’s presence with me in Italy I have ticked a ‘must do in Italy’ criterion off my list and had my first ever cup off coffee!! It had to happen. When in Italy…..right?

The lack of coffee in my life never came about for any particular reason. I grew up in an Italian family with the familiar flavour and smell of coffee flowing through my veins in a manner of speaking but never literally. The actual habit of drinking coffee was just something I seemed to skip. Some even found it a small feet on my behalf that I survived 4 years of an intense university degree without a single drop of the miracle concentration cup!

But as Mel and I visited a small Tuscan village and sat down in a quaint little cafe on the small main street I saluted Mel’s European holiday and our Italian reunion with a beautifully warming glass filled with the most delicious aromatic Caffe Latte! It was perfect! My first taste of the deliciously warming flavour of coffee.

I now understand what all the fuss is about!! I love the strong flavour of the espresso which lingers in your mouth long after the coffee has been digested. But I equally love the milky warmth of the milk which makes the experience last longer in a Caffe Latte. Oh decisions, decisions!

So now begins the coffee drinking habit within the Italian travels of the kimba chronicles. And haven’t I chosen one of the best, if not the best country to begin this habit in! You will now know where to find me....standing at the bar, espresso in hand, doing things the Italian way!

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


Suddenly it is October and I am now in my final days here at the Villa. I find myself reminiscing about the summer been and gone and wondering where on earth August or September went. I am sure the days are imprinted somewhere in my memory, slurred together with the sleep deprivation and days of running around like a crazed lunatic trying to get everything done at the Villa while looking after Sam and all the guests, along with the multitude of friends I have had come and visit me here in the last couple of months.

August was supposed to be one of my quietest months here at the Villa. And if I am honest I was actually quite looking forward to having nothing but siesta and writing to look forward to each day. I had begun writing and compiling my own recipe book and I had set myself a target back in July of having it completed by the last day of August! Well, now that that date has been and gone, I am quite perplexed as to how my August turned into one of the busiest months for me here at the Villa. And unfortunately for my recipe book, a new deadline has had to be drawn, although I don’t hold out much hope for its success either unfortunately. Maybe one day!

September also seems to have become a blimp on my memory. As Sam begun nursery, Verity was told under no uncertain terms to put her feet up and not lift a finger! In the final weeks of her pregnancy, life for me at the Villa took on a different view. No longer did I have Sam attached to my conscious, I now had the inner workings of the Villa to handle and take care of. Verity and I literally swapped jobs! Which left me with the cleaning, cooking and guest related palaver to deal with.

And now as I sit here today, in the crisp days of October, with autumn all around me, summer is now beginning to feel like a distant memory. The debilitating heat of those hot July and August days are beginning to recede from my memory. And as the change of season is upon us, the familiar taste of leaving is on my tongue yet again. My mouth now used to the taste of travel is gearing up for the ski season ahead and all the adventures the slopes will have in store for me this winter.

But before I delve into what the future may hold for me I will take you back to August and try to fill you in on what I have been up to during these hot Tuscan summer days.

Well life seemed to kick into a higher gear for me in August. We had weddings and many many guests making their way down our long winding driveway, which was great as well as very stressful. But to make all of that more enjoyable I am pleased to report I almost didn’t spend a day without friends here with me in August. First to make the pilgrimage to visit me was my gutsy Vaujany roommate Sophie, who had been working as an au pair in the south of France. Her linguistic skills have put me to shame and she is now fluent in French having lived with a French family for the last 6 months. Sophie stayed with me for 5 nights during one of the busiest weeks here this season. She arrived smack bang in the middle of one of our wedding weeks here at the Villa. She helped Verity and I prepare and serve all the catering for the wedding reception and was instrumental in helping us get everything organised. Thanks Sophie!

August also happened to bring the ski season to visit me here in Tuscany. As I was lucky enough to have Ex-KickSki guests come and stay at the Villa for 2 whole weeks! Sue and Gary with their adorable boys, Fergus and James and parents Tony and Carol became part of the background here in early August, just as they did in Vaujany after they spent a full month in resort! It was lovely to have my skiing family back again and to be able to chat away about skiing constantly with them over bottles of vino and games of cards. I was sad to see them leave but I have promised to make it out to Dubai for a visit on my way back to Oz…whenever that may be!

Next was my lovely friend from Devon who came to surprise me. Unbeknown to me she and her partner had booked into the Villa under a different name as a disguise. Last year I had surprised her by secretly arranging a holiday with her family in Spain, so this year she got me back! And what a lovely surprise it was. She and her partner, Mikey stayed for 4 nights and we picked up our friendship where we had left it months ago back when I was in Devon at the end of last year. Sarah is like family to me here in Europe and I always cherish the time we get to spend with each other. So thank you once again Sarah for my wonderful surprise. My turn now!

Come September I had even more friends to look forward to. My little pad, herby cottage was fast becoming the famed haunt for many of my friends who wanted to escape the UK summer. Although most of my friends say their reason for visiting was to spend time with me I secretly suspect that something about my alluring Italian destination which I call home may have had something to do with it! But do you see me complaining? Nope! I am just ever so grateful to be able to have friends come and visit me here at the Villa. I can honestly say that my life here in Europe now feels far more complete than it did last year, purely for the fact that I now know I have friends dotted all over Europe!

September brought Louise and Vicki, Ex Ski Peakers, who I had spent 5 months in Vaujany with. Lou and I camped on the southern Tuscan beaches and spent days lying on the sand and swimming in the sea, soaking up the last of the summer rays. And yet again my tour guide skills were put to use as we spent time wandering the streets of Siena, San Gimignano and Castellina.

And finally after months and months of waiting, my Australian best friend arrived with me at the Villa. I found Mel waiting patiently at Florence train station and amongst all the travellers of the day I received the biggest, bestest best friend hug! Mel stayed with me for 8 days in mid-September and our time passed all too quickly, as it does when you’re having too much fun. Unfortunately our 8 days consisted of me having to work solidly at the Villa as our planned trip to the Amalfi Coast went down the drain as did my relationship with an English ski instructor. Mel’s arrival actually couldn’t have been more perfect as having an extra pair of hands to help out meant I didn’t have a nervous breakdown amidst the busiest weeks here at the Villa. What are best friends for anyway, if they can’t be there for you just when you need them! Mel got to experience my new kitchen skills first hand as we cooked for guests 3 nights during her stay and kept my spirits up and my thoughts distracted from the demise of yet another relationship with yet another silly boy! The highlight of our Italian reunion was an amazing afternoon spent at my favourite restaurant in a small town called Lamole. We laboured over amazing Tuscan food for 5 hours and spent most of the time polishing off a bottle of chilled limoncello on the terrace while the waiters flirted and distracted us from the beautiful vista set in front of us!

And now, after 19 months away from family, I am pleased to report that I will have my Dad here with me in a few days! The first family member I have seen since I nervously walked through those dreaded double doors at Melbourne airport in floods of tears and fits of sobbing at leaving my beloved family behind.