Another Best of August

 

Almost a year ago, I posted under the title Best of August about a pleasant business dinner with nice people from SA and the USA. Happily, I don’t have to write about another dinner this August 2007.

 

I had a couple of good moments this month. However, what really entertained me during a few evenings was reading my past entries. Today, I can say that if it wasn’t for the writing, I would never remember a great part of what I’ve done the last months. I truly enjoy the adventure of writing while it’s happening… And I sincerely hope to be able to make it even better during the next year!

In a Certain Way…

 

Every language has special words, words that can challenge and/or captivate us. Andy likes to discover funny (in a certain way) xangana words he uses for the delight of local speakers.

 

The other day, he was tired of playing with our energetic dog Thoth, so he commanded:

 

“Stop it now, tchitombinho!”

 

When my cook Tieta heard this, she smiled and informed us with detachment:

 

“Tchitombinha is my nickname!”

 

“You don’t say so!” I said with astonishment.

 

To understand my dismay, I have to explain the meaning of the word. Plainly speaking, Tchitombinha means “little shit”! It’s a mix of xangana (tchitombo) with Portuguese -inho or inha, a suffix used to indicate small size.

 

Having said that, how bad could I feel after knowing that we have someone cooking for us with such name!? Well, I gave it a thought… The truth is that she has been cooking for us during years, and we don’t have “stomach complains”! So my guess, as a reasonable explanation for such strange nickname, is that the same has to do with her small size. Most of Mozambican women are “big framed”. They especially have XXXXXL bums! So, yes! Compared to them, my Tieta is just a tchitombinha!

Greatness

 

My mother was very observant. One day, she pointed out something that has proven to be true in several occasions:

 

“Have you seen how unaffected great people are?”

 

She was referring to some real rich and powerful people she knew. She liked to give a few examples of important approachable people. She really marveled with simplicity in people, any kind of people for that matter, because richness and power are not synonymous of greatness, as we are going to see. Simplicity, for her, was an uncomplicated mind, a nice friendly way of relating with others and freedom to be just what one wants to be.

 

Her favorite example was of a Portuguese millionaire, one of the few really wealthy men at that time. Besides millionaire, he was an eccentric. He lived in hotels, all over Europe, and liked to walk barefoot on the streets.

 

“If you asked in any hotel about his character, nobody would have a single complain about him. He used to spend fairly without being fainthearted, and people respected him for it. That was the richest man I knew, someone simple, respected, without complexes…” my mother explained.

 

At this stage, you must be wondering why on earth I’m talking about all this. Yes, you are right, I do have a reason. Recently, there was a protocol ceremony in Mozambique. As it is usual, a commemorative plate was prepared for the occasion. Unfortunately, the name of the government official to preside the ceremony was wrong just in one letter. Suppose it was changed an “e” for an “i”, without modifying the sound or meaning of it.

 

Do you believe that the plate was refused, even with the promise of replacement in a couple of days? This is what I call self-importance! Terrible testifying it in such poor countries, especially knowing that the cost of the plate equals the average monthly salary of more than 10 Mozambican families!

 

Just 3 or 4 days after these facts, the local main newspaper printed, on the front page, the same name wrongly spelled. And they have 7 or more professionals working just to avoid that kind of situations! The plate mistake was just a common one, openly spread by the media and with no relevance.

 

When I heard about this, I couldn’t help remembering my mother’s words: “Great people are simple!”

 

Despite the above rant, I have to write down that I had a good day. Paul and I met my friend M and a little later we had a nice talk with L, N and her two lovely boys, all recently arrived from the island. I am sure I’ll have the opportunity of meeting my friend again, before leaving for my September Dream Holidays. The afternoon was also very pleasant. I am in a kind of exercise probation that is proving to be fruitful. At least the pain disappeared completely and I am feeling very energetic again. Because I have to control the way I exercise, I’ll be on probation every time I go over the top. That means an entire month just walking. No running, no tae bo, no dance… From now on I have to think first where I step, or it is plainly walking for me!

A Week of Cooking

 

My divers have been around and things are happening fast. Only NB is a little sick and bored waiting for the next call, hopefully to the Gulf. JP is still enjoying his new car. Sometimes I find him studying ways of improving it, as he always does. Jo is investing on holidays in Brazil, to where he is leaving tomorrow. The rest of the boys are also doing fine.

 

I have a busy week ahead. Besides expecting to spend some time with a friend I haven’t seen in years, with whom I already talked on the phone, and also packing for my “September Dream Holidays”, I feel like cooking and baking a bit. Here are some proven receipts I might be tempt to try again:

 

Pecan Coffee Cake
1 to 2 cups of sugar
½ cup or less of good unsalted butter
3 eggs
1 pinch of salt
2 teaspoons of baking powder
2 or 3 drops of vanilla essence
2 cups of flour
1 cup of cream
200 to 250gr of pecan nuts
- ginger, nutmeg, cinnamon and allspice, at your taste

 

Beat all the sugar with the butter, add 3 eggs, one at a time, the pinch of salt, the baking powder and the vanilla. Gradually, mix part of the cream and part of the flour to the cake dough, repeating until you use them all. Finally add the spices, the nuts and bake it for 45 minutes in a 180º pre-heated oven.

 

Ricotta Pie
250gr of ricotta
6 egg yolks
1 egg white
70gr unsalted butter
200gr of sugar
70gr of flour
1/2 cup of milk

 

Mix well the ricotta with the sugar, add 6 yolks and 1 white, followed by the milk. Add the butter, soft but not liquid, and the flour with care. Mix well and reserve.

 

The pie dough: 150gr of flour, 40gr of unsalted butter and lukewarm water. Work the flour with the butter, adding water until the required consistency. Use the pin roll to make a thin layer and place it inside a medium size pie baking tray, or simply use various small size tins for individual servings. Place the reserved batter in the pie shell and cook it for 40 to 60 minutes at 180º.

 

Meat Bread
3 cups of flour
1 pinch of salt
2 teaspoons of good baking powder
½ cup of cooking oil
½ cup of water
3 eggs

 

Mix well the first three ingredients, add the oil, the water and the 3 eggs. Reserve the dough. Finely cut any kind of cooked or smoked meat that you like: bacon, chorizo, chicken… Add to the dough and place it inside a baking tray, previously greased. It cooks during 45 to 60 minutes in a 180º oven.

 

Easy Carrot Pie
4 eggs
1kg of carrots
300 to 450 gr of sugar
6 tablespoons of flour
1 teaspoon of baking powder
1 orange juice or 1 small glass of Porto wine

 

Cook and mash very well the carrots. Add to the purée: 4 yolks, sugar, fresh orange juice or Porto wine, the flour and baking powder. Finally, whisk the egg whites until hard and add. Use a fair quantity of good quality unsalted butter to grease the pie tray and dust it generously with flour. Place the batter inside and let it cook in a 180º oven during 30 to 45 minutes. You can use a glass-baking tray, because this pie is supposed to stay inside it. Dust the pie with icing sugar or other kind of soft sugar.

 

Super Carrot Pudding (another version of the above)
3 eggs
1kg of carrots (you have to cook them after)
250 gr of sugar
1 orange zest
1 orange juice
4 tablespoons of flour
1 teaspoon of baking powder

 

Purée the carrots and mix very well all the ingredients, as you wish. Place the batter inside a medium size tray with greased paper to cook in a pre-heated 180º oven for around 30 minutes. Let it cool down, roll it and dust with soft sugar and orange zest. That’s all!

______________

 

Now that the cooking frenzy is a thing of the past…
…perhaps I should explain all the extra cooking and baking. It’s easy! The place to where we are going, during our September holidays, is a bit isolated, so I have to be careful in terms of supplies. Besides, boys do eat a lot when holidaying and our group is 80% boys.

 

I started with an orange cake. I was pretty successful with the first one! The second, the pecan nuts cake, was very tasty but a little soft in the middle. The problem was picking the wrong recipient to cook it. This is one of Paul’s favorite cakes.

 

Then I went for my apple cake, another of Paul’s. Straight from the oven to the kitchen counter, it looked and smelled very OK! With the help of “tchitombinha” Tieta, I baked the meat bread (JP’s fave) and another orange cake (Andy’s fave). Results: delicious and perfect, respectively.

 

The next day I baked two pies and a pudding. I couldn’t resist baking the carrot pie, because it is one of the easiest to prepare. I usually use the blender, after boiling the carrots, and then finish the mixture in a large bowl, when I don’t mix everything in the blender and use only the bowl for the “egg whites operation”. I also use the blender with the carrot pudding. I like this one, orangy as it is. The secret is to use the right size baking tray and after roll it with the help of a clean cloth where the sugar is spread, what I failed to do. The taste of this one was really good, but I had to fight to roll it just because I forgot a simple trick.

 

Then I baked my own favorite pie, the ricotta one. It wasn’t so large as the carrot pie but it was our first desert along with a discovery of mine. Three favorites in a row: the pie, the prosecco and dolce vita! Finally, besides other savory things Tieta cooked for us, we finished with a piéce de resistance: the Black Forest Cake, boys’ number one choice! The only way to carry it is using the right cake box…

Go To Bed!

 

If we take some time to look at it, our relation with sleep has always something curious to tell. The first thing I remember about my sleeping habits was often described by my mother. When I was a little one, around 3 years old, I regarded my mother’s lap as the only safe place to fall asleep. The question is that, by then, I had to share my mother’s attention with my sister, and that was getting into my nerves! (Sorry to tell you this, sister!)

 

According to my mother’s own words, I was trying hard to find a solution for that “obstacle” between my mother and I. So, after giving it a thought, I came up with a simple solution:

 

“Put her in the trash and hold me instead!”

 

I don’t know for how long I asked my mother to do such an awful thing, but I am glad she didn’t listen to me and even found it amusing. I still can understand my disappointment today. In fact, why should she sleep on my mother’s arms and not me?

 

Well, I am telling this distant episode because I can see in it the start of a pattern in terms of my sleeping behavior. I hate going to sleep as normal people do, on time and in bed. Going to sleep seems to me a waste. If I could, I wouldn’t sleep at all. But I do sleep, as you are going to see.

 

After the sleeping on my mother’s lap rejection, I decided to get clever. Soon, I learned that I could stay awake until late and have a little more of her attention. So, from 3 to 9, before my boarding school years, my strategy changed to:

 

“I am not sleepy! Please, let me stay with you!”

 

My mother tried to fight this with an active life of music, playing and swimming, but I guess that even so she wasn’t very successful.

 

I am a little ashamed to tell that, during the years on the island, I only accepted going to bed because we had a maid to tell us stories and rock our bums until the sleep came. Today, I believe that when that gentle girl left us to get married (at 13!), my worst sleeping period started. The only way to sleep after that was reading, what I’ve been doing since 5 (with ups and downs).

 

Around 8, before boarding school, I used to follow my mother on her visits to her best friend at that time. As she lived next door, while my sister was sound asleep at home, she took me on pyjamas to her friend’s house. That lady was a rich widower, living with her 10 years old son. The four of us used to spend what we called serão (evening) seated around a camilha (round table dressed with a cloth and having a fire burning inside).

 

The two grown ups talked a lot and watched TV. Her son and I didn’t play at all, because it was too cold to leave the premises. He had the most incredible comics collection I have ever seen, all adventure and fantasy! That was the main attraction during those cold nights in Alentejo. We both used to fall asleep while reading, with our heads reclined on some opened book over that huge round table. Later, my mother helped her friend to put her son in his bed and they would do the same with me, carrying me across the street straight to my own bed.

 

Sometimes I wonder where he is, this old friend of mine. I was never interested in him, because he was too plain for my tastes! By then, I was “in love” with the character of some of the books I was reading, an incredible warrior who killed serpents and saved dames.

 

During boarding school, I developed a great love for my bed. First of all, the clever nuns kept us far from the dormitories during 14 hours of a very demanding daily schedule. Usually, when I found myself in bed, I used to read two lines, kiss my pillow, blink once and fall asleep right away.

 

Over the years, I kept a few habits and acquired a few new ones. Sleeping with a fan or air conditioner, it is more like a necessity in such a hot climate; reading forensics, it’s my own option.

 

At a certain stage of his life, my father used to pay for a movie ticket, fall asleep in the middle of it, wake up very refreshed around 10pm and return to work until 1 or 2am. Right now, I am under a genetic phase because the same is happening to me. Half an hour of even an interesting movie, and I am sleeping to wake up later on for some work until 3 or 4am. Complete satisfaction if it is an action movie! I guess my body is too tired and my mind too disperse for movies! Add to that the local extreme weather: or it is unexpectedly hot, making us sleepy; or it is surprisingly cold, with the same sleepy effect.

 

The fact is that, sooner or later, I have to go to bed, doing at 4am the usual things people do in the same circumstances: brushing my teeth, buttoning my pyjamas, reading my bedtime book…

 

Now it is time to confess the other side of all this “go to bed talk”: since little, I enjoy mornings in bed! I can be awake, but I fake to be asleep. From my bed, mornings look always bright and wonderful. I even qualify this love for staying in bed during the morning as my “Sleeping Beauty Syndrome”. After all, deep inside I still believe that a prince’s kiss should be the only way to wake up!

Next Best Thing

 

If you ask me what is the next best thing to the sea, it will be difficult for me to give you an answer, because most of my life was spent in places near it. But the possibility of the question made me think, and here is my conclusion:

 

. a week in bungalow 14 of Oliphants at the Kruger Park;
. the sunset drive at any Kruger National Park camp;
. a long weekend in a couple of chilled mountains around;
. a week in Milan.

 

The last option looks strange in the middle of the others, but there is something about that town that fascinates me and I long to be back there. I’m not sure if it was the trattoria where we loved to eat, the delightful company, the mix shopping-museum stroll or if it was a combination of them all.

 

It is even more difficult to explain the other options. There are no words to describe them, you must go there and see for yourself.

Contrasts

 

Some time ago I finished a book that I read from time to time, from Alberto Moravia, one of the few male authors who seemed comfortable writing about a woman’s soul. With the original title “Il Disprezzo”, we can follow the first two years of Emilia and Ricardo happy marriage followed by a series of misunderstandings that can ruin a relationship.

 

I was immerse in thoughts about the book: 1) Happy people only know that are happy when that happiness finishes or is under menace. 2) Men have usually complains about assuming financial responsibilities due to women, and they don’t talk openly about it. 3) Women tend to interpret their partners’ behavior under the light of romantic ideas, reaching fantastic conclusions as if they were final and real.

 

I was really into these problems of the heart, when my attention was caught by a recent journalism work on behalf of poor women victims of domestic violence. I followed one word of this, one word of that, and suddenly my heart sunk with the testimony of a woman. She must have had the same dreams of love and happiness that all women have, rich or poor, living by the sea, in a big metropolis or an isolated farm. One day she married, but her first night was like a nightmare. I even ask myself if something like this is possible to happen to someone! After the simple ceremony, she found herself alone and started to prepare his dinner, perhaps with all her love. Much later he arrived drunk, tried the food, accused her of being a lousy cook and spanked her until she had to receive treatment due to a strong mouth bleeding. In a night a bride should be kissed with love, there are still women in this world being rushed to hospitals bleeding from their mouths and hearts!

 

After the words of that woman, it was really difficult returning to Emilia and Ricardo love drama. Was it still important if Ricardo was a victim of Emilia petit-bourgeois chantage? Was it still shocking Ricardo’s lack of sensibility towards Emilia? Was it still amazing how couples forget the art of talking? How small and meaningless seemed my own “love dramas” when compared with the lives and figures on violence against women, especially in poor countries. The number of women who have to live in fear, disappear to gain a new identity, the high gates, the locks, the bodyguards paid to keep some of them safe… A lot less important, I most admit. A lot less!

Vive la Différence!

 

Paul and Seabell have the same love for traveling and a few other things in common. For the rest, they are like water and oil. Yet, they live together, along with an army of differences on the background.

 

Let’s talk about a few! 1) Reading: Paul reads the news. Seabell reads books. 2) TV: Paul likes news channels, paparazzi and variety shows. Seabell watches movies and some contests. 3) Eating: Paul loves cooked food. Seabell prefers fresh uncooked food, like salad and fruit. 4) Politics: Paul is eminently political. Seabell is more a free spirit. Even if she supported a party, she would never think on party terms but on her own terms. 5) Sleeping: Paul sleeps with the chickens. Seabell sleeps with the early morning birds. And the list could go on and on…

 

All above differences, and a few others left untold, are peanuts for Seabell. For her, the strange duck is Paul’s buyer behavior. That is a terrible difference, because Paul is a compulsive buyer and Seabell feels like asphyxiating in the middle of unwanted rubbish! The list of Paul’s favorite stuff is long: pens, watches, wood statues, pans, glasses, knifes, all kind of kitchen gadgets, various decorative items, etc.

 

Seabell has been wondering why does Paul rush to buy unnecessary objects. They seem to make Paul happy and Seabell miserable. Every year, she has to give or throw away a great part of them. She knows that her dissatisfaction has to do with esthetical aspects: she likes to live in a minimal environment. One day TD started to point: “This was brought by Paul, by Paul, by Paul…” At the end, in an entire room, only some books and the curtains were Seabell acquisition.

 

She complains from time to time. Paul’s reaction? “Cut the drama, Seabell! This is just a simple pan. We can always use another one!”

 

“A simple pan which we don’t need is going to “sleep” during years in some corner without use… Why is Paul like that?” she asks herself.

 

Actually, Seabell thinks that this matter underlines two strong opposite aspects of both personalities: Paul is impulsive and she is reflective. It could be just another difference, but Seabell is afraid that one day she is going to drown in a sea of objects!

A Stop for Sun

 

A little more than twenty-four hours ago we stopped the car to give a little of color to our tar grey afternoon. After so much time spent on a highway, we picked one of the hotels bordering a natural reserve, a place we hadn’t visited before. We had tea and left with good and bad impressions about that hotel.

 

First the good: the hotel is build inside a natural park, having all the consequent attractions and beauty. There is a river crossing the hotel and another big one running around it. The last is called Crocodile River, a huge one, now with little water to prove how dry it has been. Crocodile is usually a busy large river, both in terms of water and animal life.

 

From the balcony where we sat, it was possible to see cars stopping on the bridge to watch crocs and hippos enjoying water while they can. Unfortunately, my small provisional camera doesn’t have enough zoom to give you an idea of the wildlife below us, but I still tried to get birds, a lazy croc and two thirsty gazelles.

 

We were tempted to come and stay for the weekend, particularly since we saw the night watch lamps kept around the hotel and the account of lions, elephants and leopards coming to the river at night. Nonetheless, we decided against after the lousy service we could witness. I really don’t understand how someone can invest so much money in such business and then leave it in the wrong hands. Well, I am talking about stained windows, nice but not professional personnel at all, dubious food, etc.

 

It was already sunset when we left the place. I was more puzzled than pleased with the visit, yet my body was kissed by the sun and my heart and mind refreshed by the incomparable openness of the African landscape.

Jet Travel

 

We are ending what can be the last real cold week of this year. Hope so! Hope so! To make things a little more interesting, we decided to split our week in half by doing one of our usual short travels to Nelspruit. Temperatures in that neighbour town can be lower, however, we don’t have the same amount of humidity as here, and the unpleasant sensation that comes with it.

 

Yesterday the road was quiet, the border service slowly improving and the shopping always the same search leading to nowhere, except for making us escape from the winter boredom. We had a special moment do, but I am going to talk about it later. Right now, as it is possible to guess, I’m not investing in accidental travels but in our September holidays and in my already close meeting with friend M!

 

As for the rest of the week: Monday was spent gardening with the help of smiling guarda George; Tuesday we went to the airport to pick Andy and KT freshly arrived from Zambezia where they left two happy crocodiles. They now have a lake and a green field to walk freely, inside the Mission premises; Wednesday was Thoth bath day and my pain free first day in two weeks. We also learned that JP is in Namibia and he is coming home soon; Thursday we hit the road; and here I am Friday… As you can see, it was just another trivial week!

 

Estamos agora a terminar o que pode muito bem ser a última semana realmente fria deste ano. Espero que sim! Espero que sim! Para tornar as coisas um pouco mais interessantes, decidimos dividir a semana ao meio fazendo uma das nossas usuais curtas viagens a Nelspruit. As temperaturas nessa cidade vizinha podem ser mais baixas, contudo, não temos tanta humidade como aqui e a sensação desagradável que ela traz.

 

Ontem a estrada estava calma, o serviço na fronteira está a melhorar pouco a pouco e as compras são sempre uma procura que leva a lado nenhum, excepto fazer-nos escapar ao tédio do Inverno. De facto tivemos um momento especial, mas vou falar dele mais tarde. De momento, como é possível depreender, não estou a investir em viagens ocasionais mas sim nas nossas férias em Setembro e no já não tão distante encontro com a minha amiga M!

 

Quanto ao resto da semana: Segunda-feira estive a jardinar com a ajuda do nosso sorridente guarda George; Terça-feira fomos ao aeroporto buscar o Andy e o KT, acabados de chegar da Zambézia onde deixaram dois felizes crocodilos. Ele têm agora um lago e um espaço verde para se movimentarem livremente, no perímetro da Missão; Quarta-feira foi dia do banho do Thoth e o meu primeiro dia sem dores em duas semanas. Também fomos informados que o JP está na Namíbia e que regressa brevemente para casa; Quinta-feira fizemo-nos à estrada; e aqui estou Sexta-feira… Como podem ver, foi apenas outra semana vulgar!