Why Damn Fine Words Are Important To Me

I love to write. I have done since I was a young girl. I wrote a poem once about disabled people and sent it off to a magazine and they wrote back thinking I was disabled and saying they would keep it on file because it gave such a strong message about being disabled. It has always been my dream to work for a magazine like National Geographic, traveling and writing of my adventures. Sharing my life through words and maybe inspiring people to start their own adventures, even from the comfort of their own homes. 

For a short time we can all be carried away through words, whether it's in meditation chanting an OM or lying in bed reading that amazing novel you just have to keep turning the pages of, even if your eyes are burning red. Words are so simple by themselves but how you weave them together can create a fabric full of texture and colour, its design evoking different feelings in everyone but nonetheless planting some seed and creating some emotion.  

You know that saying "Everything happens for a reason"? 

Well it was by chance today when I was searching for themes for my website for my online holiday rental business in Studiopress themes that I came across James Chartrand's article on the Men with Pens website about the Damn Fine Words writing course. I read the first few lines and I was hooked but I realised I could not afford the course, I don't even have this month’s rent money.  Life has been harder to get going in Spain than I thought but then I saw the competition and I thought why not.  I know there are lots of us out there vying for the same thing because we understand the importance of writing well in a very competitive market – the internet and that is why I have shared the link with you to the competition that's fair, right? It finishes on the 1 May 2012, so be quick if you want to enter.  

I just know that writing better will be invaluable for my business because it will enable me to write to the people I want to attract for renting and why they should rent through me and it's not just going to be about giving a nice little description of the properties that I have on my books.  How do you convince someone that you really do care about them when they don't even know you?  There are infinite possibilities for my business, which of course will help me be successful but personally, doing this course will enable me to keep on sharing because that is what I love doing the most. And how amazing is that!

Breaking Bread

Bless me Mother! My sin? To fall spelt over rye in love with bread making (is that a sin or a blessing?) either way, I did not see it coming. It hit me, like a fist punching air out of dough. Before I could say "bakers dozen" that sticky, glutinous mass was all over me. The intoxicating yeasty smell of the starter overwhelming my senses. I was transported to another place, another galaxy. My journey into the world of bread making, of bread maker had begun.

In my search to know more I am discovering that almost every culture over all over the world eats bread in some form or another from focaccia in Italy, baguettes in France, tortillas in Mexico, soda bread in Ireland or mantou in China (and that's just a small list) it is being sliced and toasted, broken and shared.


It is a magical process with its basic set of ingredients: flour, water, yeast (that came much later it used to be flat before it rose to great heights) and salt that contain complex scientific properties we do not even think about when we munch our way through our scrumptious ploughman's lunch and a pint, or perhaps you enjoy it smothered in nutella or as a flat bread rolled up with a falafel and humous.  The ingenious process has come along way since being baked on a hot stone, to the mass produced factory bread that feeds millions in the world every day.  It is amazing to think about how many people ate it for breakfast this morning.


Bread plays out in history beyond simply feeding us all. To a Christian, bread is a symbol of Christ’s death and the believer’s renewal. For a baker, it is much the same. He knows that in order for his bread to have its final rise in the oven, the yeast must first give up its life and “die”. When the yeast reaches this thermal death point of 140 degrees celsius it is no longer a living organism. That’s why the word leaven means, “enliven” or “bring to life”.


Bread symbolises transformation. For Jews, who celebrate Passover, or the Feast of Unleavened Bread, eating bread without leavening is a reminder of their ancestors’ quick exodus out of Egypt. The story tells us that the exiled Jews left in such haste that they could not even wait for their bread to rise. Whenever Buddhist monks hold bread in their hands, they believe they are holding on to the cosmos ("he's got the whole world in his hands"...and beyond! "Beam me up Scotty!"). 


Bread is symbolic of life and sustenance the world over and is often used as a metaphor such as “the bread of life”, “bring home the bread”, or “our daily bread”. Historically bread was used to signify someone’s social status. The darker your bread was, the lower your social status was because white flour was considered more difficult to process than the darker, whole grain flours. Now the white and dark have done a little role reversal and it is significantly trendier and far more sophisticated to indulge in darker breads like the ancient grains of spelt or kamut, or perhaps flavoured with olives, flax seed or even raw bread (well isn't all bread "raw" until we cover it with something?:).


Personally I see bread as something that has been symbolic in bringing people together throughout its history. As a staple and symbol of life, the act of sharing it during meals became a highly social and sometimes ceremonial act. The phrase which came to be associated with this act--"to break bread", came to mean simply to share a meal with others. And isn't that what life is all about? 


So bring out the grains, unleash that yeast, throw on the water and bake bread. You too may find yourself in a new and consuming love affair.

I can sure see this new love affair of mine consuming me for a long time to come.

YB

Where do you go in a financial crises?

Don Quijote de La Mancha and Sancho Panza  by Gustave Dore 

It has been a year and it has not been easy. What I thought would be a breeze, being the veteran traveller that I am, has actually been far more difficult than I thought.  Why?  Because you are never local when you are an expat and when the the going gets tough, well you just have to keep going. And the financial crises spreading through Europe has not helped. 


In some ways I think I was very naive and didn't really have a plan but then that has been my life story and to date it has worked for me but not this time.  Call it an age thing, call it bad luck but whatever the case a little research before coming over here may have helped me out a little to understand the way the culture and the people. 


I once read a book called "Being Indian" by Pavan Varma, which gave a kind of overview of what it is to be Indian and about the country. I truly believe it would be very helpful if there was such a book for any country that you decide to travel to or perhaps live in. I know that seems a little simplistic to think that you could understand a culture and a country by reading and perhaps re-reading some text but nonetheless it would give you an idea of what you may be stepping into. And I am not advocating that the adventure be taken away, far from it because like reading about art, it is nothing like the real thing, until you step into and experience life on the ground and running.


So I have gone from one brilliant idea to another, running like an animal crazed with the scent of blood in its nostrils, thinking this is it, this is the "one" and not really achieving much so far but I am learning heaps, through trial and error that is for sure.


One of my ideas was to set up a catering business. I jumped right in and had a logo designed by an Argentinian friend of mine. My thought process was, "Well, I am a good cook I can do this, let's just get it going". And I did when an opportunity arose for me to do a job for a yoga group of 10 women visiting from Sweden near the end of last year. I spent months swatting - research and recipes like I was cramming for my university exams and in the end it was worth it.  Over the 7 days I worked like a mule dragging coal from the mines cooking my menu up to a storm of thank-yous and brilliant - I just wish that I had planned my journey over here as well.


So now it is all a little quiet but in fairness it hasn't been because I haven't been trying to source more work. No I have been keeping myself busy thinking about the next creative step I can take, even with all the doom and gloom forecast about the Euro zone crises. 


Now please don't get the impression that I am feeling sorry for myself, far from it that moment came and went but I have had an epiphany of sorts. Slowly over the last six months I have been emerging out of some sort of human cocoon, coming out as a totally different woman to the one that idealistically left the UK a year ago. I have realised that even with all the planning in the world you can anticipate and research only so much. The rest just happens and you have to let it, especially as a foreigner in a foreign land. You have no control. 


There have been many dark moments that seem to have stretched into a void of nothingness where I thought I would never escape but with the love of some new friends and a new found self-esteem it all seems to be coming together finally.


Look there is a lot I haven't said here, some things are quite personal, right? But I need to say this has been the biggest, greatest learning curve in my life. It has overwhelmed me and taken me to places I would rather forget but I am emerging, stronger in mind, body and spirit, resolved to stay strong. This strength is propelling me to places I do not know exist yet but the arrow is pointed up and my aim is straight.


Like Don Quijote of La Mancha with his ever faithful companion Sancho Panza riding by his side, I am caught in a world of imaginings and deception, of laughter and intrigue. What more can one do in a "financial crises".

YB

The Mademoiselles and a table called Freddy

Our initial introduction was on the farm where I live. At one point no one dared mess with these two. The untouchables. They ruled the property with grace and an iron will. I came to know them as the "Mademoiselles".

They had found there way here via a road of torture and abuse but on the farm they found their solitude and a sense of peace. A resting place, away from the unkindness that had followed them until they found the Finca.

Their days were spent casually sauntering around the property like two Grande Dames misplaced from a period of time but not out of place. Here was their home, a final resting place so to speak. Somewhere to see their days out in a tranquil setting. Well so they thought. Then Lily came to town.

Up until then, there had been Freddy, the Labrador X. A fumbling, bumbling Eeyore type personality with his doe-eyes and sloppy kisses, he was no threat to their perfectly composed life. He fitted in and kept out of their way, usually basking under the sun, his Spanish dosis. Then Lily the Podenco arrived. Her sharp features and intelligent eyes started to watch them but her nervous disposition kept her away - for a time.

As she settled in she soon started to shadow them, as they took their daily strolls. They felt a dark cloud starting to hang over them, the moisture slowly dampening their spirits and their well groomed coats. This erratic little dog had seemed so innocent with her timidness at the beginning but she was quickly becoming their nemesis, a deep and dangerous thorn in their side. It was unsettling and nerve-wrecking. What do to?

The Finca was quickly becoming a jungle. Days were spent silently watching and waiting and Lily prowled the grounds, the nights were even worse. Their senses became heightened, smelling her out. No place was safe with this erratic little dog running around pouncing on them as they were about to sit for supper, chasing them most inelegantly up poles. Grace and dignity were quickly replaced with claws and hissing, quite unsightly and not so endearing for these refined Senoras.

Over time they have regained some of the composure and grace that seemed to desert them so quickly and only time will tell how this drama in their lives pans out. Meanwhile they sit in waiting, watching out for this mad little dog they have called El Niño.

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How we beat the winter blues

You may know the drill. Up at 6am, or maybe earlier, to hit the gym or the morning yoga class before going to work. If you are like I was, living in London then you are probably heading there in rather bleak conditions. Overcast and dull grey sky, perhaps rain (pretty much all the time there) and if in winter, well you're not just wearing your trench coat and multiple layers of thermals but probably icicles on the end of  your nose. 

We're on the road to somewhere...

It sucks. Day in, day out the same old grind. And then when day something snaps. You don't want this life anymore. Change is a coming and her name is Mary.  Your head and heart are scream "Exit stage left even".  The time has come for that lifestyle change because the woods have too many trees and you can't see past the thick of it all.


But some of us can only dream about it the change because we are burdened with the responsibilities of the mortgage repayments or the kids school/university fees, or the car repayments, or simply by our fear of change. Like a long winding road with no end in sight. And so we are bound - or are we?

For us, my husband and I the bond to our former life was not that strong. Individually we have always been free spirits, heads forward and tails pointed smelling something and off we would go on the scent.  And so we had the chance to break away and we fled. Me and my man and a van, bulging at the edges with all that we owned, including the greenery, off an adventure to somewhere. Well Spain actually.

We sat at the dock in Portsmouth, waiting patiently to drive on board. Ship ahoy, surging forward on the open seas (thanks to Brittany Ferries) likes pirates of old, looking for their treasure. I can't say we didn't feel like kids on a merry-go-round because we did. We were riding high on that pony into a world of possibilities, a strong sense of intuition and not much else.

From the port at Santander we embarked on our new life in Spain and 14 hours later, we were sitting in our new home on the Costa Tropical, in amongst our boxes and our plants and ready for the adventure ahead.

And so the journey begins...a tribe (albeit small) has arrived in Spain to take root on this ancient tree to become a rama (branch) of this old land. Come and enjoy the trials and tribulations as we make our way.