SO, kids, I already know what you're all going to say, but really, no need to hate, it's not always like this, nor has it always been. I'm off on a little road trip with two of my best gal buddies, so won't be able to post while I'm away for the next fortnight. How all this happened so fast is anybody's guess, suffice to say that some unsuspecting friend called to ask my advice on the Cinque Terre on the Ligurian coast of Italy where we were lucky enough to have had our big family holiday last year, and before you could say, "Bob's your auntie" she and her mum had booked and invited me to join them. (Some sales gal your Suzy Q hey?)
Come the weekend, and we three shall be leaving our husbands, children and cares behind. It promises to be a fun filled time of swimming, hiking, laughing, and eating fabulous Italian food and sampling the local village wines. We have an apartment so will be able to cater for ourselves with the freshest of ingredients from the little local deli and the mind blowing daily market where the most beautiful fruits and veggies and delectable buffalo mozzarellas and salamis are in tempting profusion. Pick 'n' Pay move over, why can't shopping for food always be so much fun?
We all have a few causes for concern, mostly to do with wine and men, contemplating having our aging (I swear I never once said "sagging") bottoms pinched at least once by those hunky Italian stallions, but my major concern is that we might just die laughing as I think we are going to have so much fun. What a wonderful opportunity for dear old friends who get together too seldom to have the chance to yak and yak without responsibilities and the usual distractions.
The Cinque Terre is a linked group of five picturesque villages along the cliffs above the Ligurian Sea, where I have had the most delightful swims of my life. There are walks of varying degrees of difficulty through vineyards and olive groves, offering the most spectacular sea views. Each village produces it's own wine, so we should be able to taste the odd one along the way, and luckily there is an excellent train service should we fall into bad company or a wine vat.
All this to say, I'll soon be on my way, once I've stocked the larder and done the usual detailed list of what needs to be done in my absence which will be totally ignored, and will be thinking of you all as we wend our merry way through the Cinque Terre. Please bear with me (forgive me?) and please please please don't forget me. I really do value all your loyal support and feedback so much. You never know, I may just be able to access an Internet Cafe I can manage to use to give you a holiday broadcast, otherwise I'll be back in the first week of October with all the stories and more, or does what happen on tour stay on tour!?
I've had fab team t-shirts printed for a laugh, and had such fun organizing and designing them with Kevin and Rusty from ReproClinic at the Valyland Centre in Fish Hoek. Call 021-7823750 if you need any reproduction work done for great art advice, value and service or email:print@reproclinic.co.za
Ciao bellissimo, Suzy Q (of The Three Cinque Terrors!) xx
I think I'm a dying breed, for I cannot put a cup of tea on a tray without laying a tray cloth there first. The trays I see nowadays are all laminated and infrequently used, whereas for me there is a a certain romanticism about the humble tray. Nothing like being served a cup of tea on the old kitchen tray by a loving family member with a favourite, but faded old tray cloth to remind one of day's gone by, or even better, a flute of bubbles on the white damask atop the shiny silver tray on a high day. We also have the "sick tray", a genuine relic rescued from my training hospital when it was refurbished, and stripped down to it's original wood with retractable legs so the patient can eat properly propped up in bed. Touch wood it hasn't been used much lately, but I think the little Miss SQ's sometimes used to feign illness for the privilege of of being thus spoilt. That was also the perfect opportunity to lay out bright and cheerful cloths, often from holidays, to cheer the patient into eating their boiled egg with soldiers.
My love of tray cloths probably started when I was a girl, however long ago that might have been, when we were routinely taught the rudiments of needlework. Lazy daisies were our staple, using needles called 'crewel' somewhat akin to our needlework mistress we reckoned. Funny to think in these days of gender equality that girls were assigned to the fine motor skills of needlework, whilst the lads got to bash nails into bits of wood in the name of woodwork, read into that what you will.
This got me to thinking of lazy daisies and the fun we had fine tuning our sewing skills in my schooldays. Sadly, like PT, these subjects seem to have been dropped from the curriculum, and whilst I have heard lots of excuses, I really can't understand why this should be so. Methinks too many administrative hassles for the teachers, but somebody must have heard Suzy Q moaning as PT at least is being reintroduced. Hooray, here's to the health of the younger generation.
Gotta love and give thanks to the special pre-school teachers my daughters were fortunate enough to have, whose inspired Mother's Day gifts remain amongst my greatest treasures. I'm speaking of course of tray cloths with potato, hand and leaf prints as well as primitive self images. As somebody who has just had a red letter day and experienced a life defining moment by paying our last school bill ever (hopefully) these sentimental treasures from pre-school days are a stark reminder of how fast the years have flown and how my babies have grown.
When I tell them how I have a few small things (including some of these charming relics from pre-school) stashed away for their bottom drawers, they howl with derision. They most certainly won't be scrimping and saving to set up house with a few rudimentary kitchen utensils, but will rather be buying their own penthouse apartments with the careers they have planned for themselves. Let's hope so.
I wonder what happened to the tray cloths I made with my first attempts at lazy daisies though? How I wish I could lay my hands on one of those now...
Your, ever sentimental,
Suzy Q
Hi again and please forgive delays in writing about our short stay at Rocherpan when we went up the West Coast to see the flowers last week - just been unbelievably busy, but here we go.
The road to Rocherpan was littered with temptations, as you may have gathered from my second last blog post, all good fun and no complaints, leaving me with yet another proudly South African feeling. Gotta love this beautiful country of ours and all the diverse people to which she's given rise.
www.capenature.co.za
We finally arrived safely, TG as that road seems to have quite a bad reputation, after passing through Velddrif and all the little holiday village developments along the way.Winona, the camp manageress was on hand to welcome us warmly and give us the camp drill. Somewhat mistakenly (mine) I had imagined us to be residing in a floral reserve, but Rocherpan is actually more famous for it's birds, especially the endangered Black Oystercatcher and is also a marine protection area.
No worries, we simply love being out in the country and enjoying Mother Nature in her purest form and loved the view of the sunset over the vlei with all the attendant birdlife. The cottages were a true delight in design and aesthetism as designed by architect Justin Cooke. My retirement home dream come true. Clean lines, economical use of space, eco friendly, and rather sexy in terms of tiling and fittings. Not so great if personal privacy is a priority however. As an "old married couple" we coped just fine, but had we shared the cottage with another couple or our teenage children, I doubt it would have worked, as the two beds are back to back with a small half screen, and the cute little bathroom is doorless with very little recess even for the dung fuelled loo. Hmm...?
Everything else was gorgeous, with a little terrace for a braai, though it beats me why they don't lay on just a little bit of wood, or even a few courtesy tea bags for your arrival, specially as many visitors are foreign tourists who don't have a kitchen cupboard to raid for a visit. The peace and privacy were sublime, to a point, as the four cottages are rather close to the road and during the night we could hear all the trucks thundering by. Why, when there is a whole nature reserve, are they situated there, we wondered but I am sure there are good reasons. I have infinite praise for Cape Nature and all the wonderful work they do, but I do have to query why there is a question called "Culture" on the entry form, which had already been filled in as "White" for us. Colour, my dear ones, should not be an issue or even a question within our new democracy. Would a Chinese person be required to call themselves "yellow" for heaven's sakes? C'mon, let's all be citizens of south Africa, please.
Come the beautiful morning dawning, woken by birdsong, we made our way down to the beach by car via the two bird hides. A lovely walk over the dunes brought us to one of those deliciously deserted beaches you see only in movies, but for once I was too tjoeps to swim there alone. We had to pack up to head back to the office anyway, with the excited intention of stopping in at Postberg as it was such a sunny, perfect flower viewing day. This was, after all, the reason for our sortie up the coast was it not?
As we headed over the hill towards Postberg, Mr SQ let out an expletive, and silly old me, I thought he was exclaiming at the sight of the fields of daisies we anticipated viewing. Alas and alack, it was the road filled with a long line of cars queueing to get entrance to the reserve. Somebody had obviously blabbed (gosh these blogs can be dangerous!) that the flowers were so fabulous this year, that hordes of day trippers had descended en masse, so we took a rain check and headed back to the school run instead.
Oh well, we had had a most enjoyable time, and had been fortunate enough to enter the reserve previously without waiting in line for an hour, only to sit bumper to bumper all the way through the flowers. I think I'm going to try to do the Postberg Walking Trail next year - any takers...?
www.sanparks.org
Lotsa love,
Suzy Q
It is, rather incredibly, the eleventh anniversary of the atrocities of 9/11 today. The shock and horror of that terrible day lives in all our minds and memories, as it was one of those days when everyone can remember the exact moment when they first heard the news that a plane was flying into the Twin Towers, only to be followed by another, confirming the terrorist attack theory.
It all happened so fast and horrifically, that jaws dropped in disbelief and people watched spellbound as the iconic buildings ignited and crumbled and people flung themselves out of the windows. It was your worst nightmare come true, and as the reality of the whole drama unfolded, I was aghast at how any human being could have plotted and planned with such excellent execution the demise and misery of so many others.
It didn't end with the lives lost or bodies maimed however, as there were so many more other people affected by the tragic event. Survivors, onlookers, rescue workers (in particular) bereaved families, fatherless children, must all feel the pain of this day so acutely, even as we, from afar, can only get a glimmer of the trauma suffered by so many at the hands of so few.
It defies description and beggars belief that such an atrocity could have been committed against so many innocent people. I'll simply pause here to spare all those involved a thought, and resume my normally cheerful blog tomorrow...
Love, Suzy Q
Hello again everybody, and no you have not been deserted, it's been rather hectic, and I am trying to snatch a few quiet moments to fill you in on our sortie up the West Coast to see our famed carpets of spring flowers earlier this week. As mentioned in my last post, we decided to break with our usual day trip and picnic at Plankiesbaai in Postberg Reserve to overnight in the Rocherpan Reserve, making it a more leisurely trip. As the theory that your unborn babies will sleep through the night and eat all their vegetables eschewing all sugar coated offerings, this remained a completely theoretical idea.
We shut shop and set off bright and early on Monday morning, which was also supposed to be bright and beautiful and perfect for the opening of the flowers. It was, however, bitterly cold and overcast. Another debunked theory, even before we had begun. Not to be deterred, we motored up the R27 hoping things would clear up by the time we arrived there. Postberg Reserve only opens to the public between August 1 and September 30 for this annual floral display, so the window of opportunity is very limited. You can call the Flower Hotline on 071 3207146 or see their website www.capewestcoast.org just to be sure though.
Darling, the dear little town which Pieter Dirk Uys put firmly on the map with his Evita se Perron theatre was our first port of call. We chanced upon the Darling Museum in Pastorie Street, manned by Dianne le Roux, who dispensed information far beyond the walls of this utterly captivating museum to the many foreign visitors passing through there. She also told us about the Voorkamerfest which had taken place over the weekend. It sounds fabulous as a one-of-a-kind festival taking place in the front rooms of people's homes in the village, ranging from the grand to modest township homes, leaving everyone in suspense until each performance takes place. Great idea, and apparently very well supported, so book now for next year. email:tasha@voorkamerfest-darling.co.za
For a modest R10 museum entrance fee we took a step back into our past, practically entering a time machine as we crossed the threshhold. I can't imagine where so many artefacts were sourced, but they have been imaginatively used to reconstruct scenes depicting the lives of citizens in days of yore. I wish I could have spent all day gazing at classroom scenes, medical equipment, the toys in children's bedrooms, right down to period books and magazines they read to the fox stoles their mothers would have worn on grand evenings out. The shed houses a fascinating collection of wagons and coaches, and all the stories I have read about trekking were brought to life seeing the wagon wheels and coach lights and imagining them traversing the terrain we had just covered. I would highly recommend a visit to the Darling Museum as it really lifts the dry and dusty image of museums to fascinating new heights. www.darlingmuseum.co.za
Thirsty work all this history and culture, and still not much promise of the flowers opening we were told, so we decided to pop in to a winery we had long wanted to visit along the road, namely Groote Post, whose Pinot Noir Mr SQ had previously admired. Aah, the joys of not having to rush back from the flower route for the school run we sighed as we drove into the farm, admiring the flower strewn fields at the entrance.
Here to be warmly welcomed by Wimpie, for a complimentary tasting of some of the finest and well priced wines around. We kicked off with The Old Man's Sparkle - a delightful MCC Brut Rose which is a definite for the wine fridge. We then tasted the first 2012's I've tried this year, which always thrills me, and across the board, Sauvignon Blanc, Chardonnays both wooded and unwooded. Chenin Blanc, Weisser Riesling and The Old Man's Blend didn't fail to titillate our palates.
In the true spirit of country hospitality, we got to meet the winemaker, Lukas Wentzel, who can't seem to put a foot wrong. Not only is he a wine maker par excellence, he is also a raconteur and generally nice fellow altogether, with none of the pretensions of some of the other winemakers we've met. When he and owner, Nick Pentz finally got to their sales meeting, we savoured the magnificent red selection before placing our order and getting back on the road. Hilda's Kitchen is apparently an excellent restaurant, but is only open from Wednesday to Sunday, so we were left with the option of finding a spot for our picnic lunch.
www.grootepost.com
Fate, as ever, played her wicked way with us, and we spied the Darling Brew sign just as we were leaving town. Ah sure, why not try the local beer too we wondered, specially as they had a board advertising lunch as well, and we were starving by this stage. Gloria served us a selection of their slow beers, the Bonecrusher being the best of the bunch we reckoned, with hints of coriander and orange peel. Decent tasting of four brews for R36, with an empty spot awaiting the famous Christmas beer, which reportedly has cinnamon and other festive spices. Beers and service were great, food less remarkable, but perhaps one should heed the advice of Kitchen Confidential and never eat out on Mondays.
www.darlingbrew.co.za
By this stage, we reckoned that bed weather called, and that we would try to see the flowers on our way back in the morning, and wended our way up to Rocherpan, which was a little further away than expected so glad we had taken some sustenance en route. We rather looked forward to reaching our destination and resting our weary wine and beer tasting bones! So much for the flowers en route, but manyana...zzz the flowers are sleeping!
Hello, on this, my favourite day of the year. Yes, the first of September signifies the first day of spring for me in the southern hemisphere (don't care what the pundits say about the 22nd, this is IT for me.) Nobody who was in Cape Town yesterday would believe that the skies might have cleared so we could see a bit of blue today, albeit hazy and still a bit chilly.
It has been, by public concession, the coldest, wettest, wildest winter we can all remember, so the arrival of spring has never been so eagerly awaited amongst people I know. However, we who have lived in Cape town long enough realize that, one swallow, one patch of blue sky, does not a summer make, and we still have some very chilly, wet days and nights ahead of us before summer in December. So don't, like me, in a fit of false optimism, pack the winter wellies away just yet. However, just for today, let's bask in the glory of the promise that spring brings.
I love it all: the budding on the trees, new green shoots and leaves on the vines, scent of jasmine, the mornings being a bit lighter and brighter, and the birds all atwitter, it all lifts my spirits so. People start to come out from hibernation and start smiling again. My dear friend and Pilates teacher, who simply abhors cold, wet weather, might get just a bit kinder in class as the weather warms up, though that's not a surefire guarantee as she loves to remind us of our bikini lines. AAArgh!! Hers of course is concave, life can be too cruel, but then again, let's just be happy with what we've got, marshmallow stomachs and all.
Spring brings... new life, new hope, rejuvenation of the land and joy to our senses. It also reminds me of my first visit to the future Mr SQ's home, and the meeting with the family who were about to become my own too. As a homespun girl in Europe for the first time, I was taken with the bunches of daffodils on sale in the streets of London, having never actually seen them before, but having a romantic notion of them thanks to Wordsworth. I bought a bunch as a gift for my future mother-in-law one warm May day (beware foreign girls bearing flowers!) and clutched them all the way on a long train and ferry journey, imagining her to be as equally delighted by the sight of these rarities as I was.
The ancestral driveway was lined with daffodils blowing gently in the breeze as I arrived, somewhat shakily, and possibly reeking faintly of cheap Spanish wine shared with a fellow traveller in anticipation of the daunting introductions ahead. My wilted offerings were graciously accepted, and became a family joke. However, I think of, and miss my dear mother-in-law, who used to call me to say, "The daffs are up, Suzy Q, and always make me think of you."
Spring has sprung, let's get to it. Speaking of which, Mr SQ and I are going up the West Coast on Monday to view our own magnificent carpets of daisies, and hope for good sunshine, all the better to see them open. Will report back midweek when we return from a night in one of CapeNature's new Rocherpan cottages. Being on their mailing list is proving to be expensive, (vis a vis the Whales, Wine and music weekend at De hoop) but the pleasure their locations and innovations bring is immeasurable. Till then, hope you all enjoy a wonderful beginning to spring.
www.capenature.co.za
Love,
Suzy Q
Wittingly or unwittingly, as parents we are constantly teaching our children by example, by the type of lives we lead, and by the knowledge we pass down to them. It's such a mammoth undertaking, moulding those young lives, that I'm amazed we don't have to undergo the most stringent selection process before we're let loose on unsuspecting infants, the type to which prospective adoptive parents are subjected.
www.sbg.org.sg/
A beautiful wire sculpture I saw a while back in the magnificent Singapore Botanical Gardens, second only to our own Kirstenbosch, has always stayed on my mind. It is entitled The Passing of Knowledge and is the work of local sculptor, Victor Tan Wee Tar. It depicts a parent with a bucket of clear water, tipping it over to be collected by a child holding a bowl, from which the rest of the water overflows onto the earth. The symbolism is obvious, particularly the use of the flow of clear water, in perpetuity, but I thought it worth mentioning, as it is a thing of such great beauty, delicacy and significance. The cycle of life on earth, the knowledge we glean during our time on this beautiful planet, and what we impart to the next generation...
The sculpture was commissioned by the Rotary Club in keeping with their 4 Way Test, which should consider all the things we think, say and do.
1) Is it the truth?
2) Is it fair to all concerned?
3) Will it build goodwill and better friendships?
4) Will it be beneficial to all concerned?
www.victortanweetar.com
Food for thought in our daily lives and relationships. I love the new water to the new generation, who are the new wine after all. Rather reminds me of Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young's immortal Teach your Children Well from their Deja Vu album from the '70s. Now that might date me, but Suzy Q's not afraid of her age, only the afflictions the aging process places upon us, and as usual, nobody warned us!! This bit of knowledge, hmmm, now that I think about it, much like the pains of childbirth, I might just not pass on, hoping that the human race might continue without me frightening off the rest of the crowd on starting blocks at the beginning of the track.
Victor loves his art form as a means of expressing the human form and condition, and hopes to help people have a better understanding of their time here. He touched my heart, and I do hope that if you are ever in Singapore you won't bypass the Sun Garden in the SBG and pause for a moment or two to contemplate this masterpiece.
And hey, all my friends and readers out there, we might not all have lived our lives absolutely perfectly, but I do know that we are doing our utmost to be the best parents we possibly can be, so more power to us all, and good luck to the next generation, may they be wiser for our second hand knowledge. Pass that wisdom down the line!
Teach your children well!
Love Suzy Q
