If you drive down to Tegernsee, a lake nestled up against the Bavarian Alps, and spend the day hiking, you might get caught in an improbably strong summer rainfall. You might just get completely soaked and need to increase the briskness of your pace as you climb back down the hills.
You might notice, when you make it down the hill, that the rain has now quieted. It could encourage you to scrap the plans to picnic on sandwiches in the car and, even though you and your three friends are drenched and shivering slightly and your feet are undeniably blistered, to instead find a nice spot by the lake. And you just might, on your way to the lake, stumble upon a little Volksfest that happens to charm the lederhosen off you.
It could happen.
You might end up grinning from ear to ear, looking around in marvel at the size of the beers, the sharpness of the local dress, and the incredible cripsness and flavor of fish painted all delicious with a mixture of melted butter, beer, salt and pepper and roasted on a spit. You might just stay for a while.
Looking through photos from the few weeks I just spent in Israel, I noticed a good chunk of them were taken on the road. Photos taken out the window of the passenger seat of my friend’s little car as we zipped up and down and across that fascinating little country.
I have more photos from the drive up north through green rolling hills than of camping on the Sea of Galilee when we got there and more photos of the curvy desert road down 400m below sea level than of the Dead Sea itself.
I took a photos somewhere near the Lebanese border where we pulled over for a picnic before the driving back to Tel Aviv, but none of the hike we were driving back from.
Albums from other trips are overtaken by fluffy cloud formations admired on a flight or the reflection in the windshield of my feet resting on a dashboard. When I’m travelling, its so easy to see that the getting there is half the fun, that the sights on the road are often as beautiful as the destination and that every moment is worth appreciating in some way or another.
Back home, I find this feeling too easily slips away if I don’t make an effort to hold on to it, to stop focusing on where I will end up for long enough to enjoy the moment. The last few weeks have found me particularly caught up in planning and thinking, so much so that I’ve started to forget to enjoy where I am right now. I am in one of my favourite cities and knee deep in one the best seasons but can’t help but lose my thoughts to details of what lies ahead. Bright red strawberries and green and white stalks of asparagus overflow out of the market stalls, and I no longer get weird looks for wearing sandals well before sandal season. Sandal season is here (!!). Sunscreen, bare legs, and ice cream season too. And as much as I am a believer in planning, to-do listing, thinking ahead and getting excited about the future, I am also a believer of the importance of putting all worries of where you are going and what you are doing on hold to allow space for thoughts of ice cream. Ice cream has a very strong ability to tug a person back into there right-here-and-right-now.
I tried halva ice cream at a little gelateria on Ben Yehuda street in Tel Aviv after a day of relaxing + overheating + swimming at the beach. Halva is a hard sesame based sweet from the middle east that I have never completely been a fan of. It was often the only dessert on offer at family gatherings we would go to as kids, so I remember really trying to like the stuff. The flavor is rich, nutty and delicious, but I never really enjoyed the rough, dry texture that left my mouth feeling strange after a few bites. So I was intruigued when I saw it made into an ice cream, and delighted to find that it was all the flavour but none of the texture.
Back home I wanted to recreate the stuff, but decided to get the flavor by mixing honey with tahini, a paste of ground sesame, instead of buying prepackaged halva that is full of preservatives and sugar.
Halva Ice Cream
This ice cream is rich and nutty and though delicious, it’s definitely somewhat unusual tasting and less sweet than most ice creams. So if you’re looking to satisfy a sweet tooth, this might not be your best bet (toasted marshmellow ice cream, on the other hand, would satisfy any and all cravings for sweetness).
Next time I might play around with adding a spoonful of roseflower water and some crushed walnuts or pistachios. A swirl of chocolate would also be delicious.
1/2 c. heavy cream
2 egg yolks
1. Pour tahini and honey into a saucepan and warm over medium heat. When small bubbles start to form, allow to simmer for about 5 minutes, stirring regularly to prevent sticking. Remove from heat and slowly add milk and cream, stirring until well combined.
2. To temper the egg yolks, put them in a small bowl. Add a spoonful at a time of the tahini mixture, stirring constantly until you have added 5 spoonfuls. Pour the egg mixture into the saucepan and return to heat, gently cooking on medium-low for 5 minutes. Remove from heat and allow the mixture to cool – this should take about 45 minutes.
3. Give it a taste. Add sugar accordingly, keeping in mind that things taste less sweet when they are frozen – so you’ll want to make it a little sweeter now than what you ultimately aim to end up with.
4. If you have an ice cream maker transfer the mixture there and follow its directions. If not transfer the mixture to a container and place in the freezer. Take out the container ever 45 minutes to an hour and mix it up with a spoon to break up any ice particles. You will probably need to do this 2-4 times until the mixture has frozen completely.
5. Enjoy!
A few weeks ago I went to visit a friend in Zurick whose roommate Annina is a professional textile artist. Needless to say, after breakfasting on slices of soft Butterzopf and Swiss cheese, I got busy asking her an inordinate amount of questions.
Annina told me about a project she was a part of last summer where a different artists each spent few days in the Alps. They stayed with cheese- and butter-makers who travel with their cows to remote spots for the whole summer since apparently the quality of the grass up there makes for better tasting milk. The artists each created work in their respective mediums based on the experience and put together a beautiful little art show. I love the whole idea, and now have another summer camping location to daydream about.
these photos are by Maija Savolainen
Annina and her friend Corinne Lutz, both textile designers, embroidered designs into the cheese cloth that were then transfered directly onto the fresh cheese. apparently the cloths were used all summer so that random cheese consumers got wheels with pretty designs.
It’s amazing how driving just a few hours away, for just a few days, can fill you with so many good things.
I filled the trunk of the car with wool sweaters, ski socks, and a down jacket in a failed attempt to protect us from the indescribable cold. I filled my eyes with the prefectly pretty colors of Prague. I filled my ears with the slippery Slavic sounds of a language I cannot understand a word of. I filled my legs with sore muscles from a crisp sunny day on the mountain. I filled my tummy with deep fried cheeses, potato dumplings soaked in the richest of sauces, buttery garlic soup and the most delicious beers at the most vacation-like hours.
And I returned to Berlin full of goodness, and in need of a big salad.
A few odd months ago, when I decided I would follow a guy (well, ‘my’ guy) back to Berlin, or at least try and try to do so, things were looking quite different in my little world.
Back then, the sun was still hot enough to brown skin, and there were sandy beaches minutes away perfect for letting it do exactly that. My days were flexible, revolving around sewing, fabric shopping, and efforts to keep my little business afloat. I would go for swims in the afternoon and buy carrots on the way home, and on a good day I would walk to my favorite falafel place with my best friend and rejoice over the superlatives a simple fried chickpea ball with tahini sauce is capable of.
When the time that said ‘guy’ would have to go home turned from some faraway fact into that thing that was happening in two months, I stopped to think about what I was doing and what I was going to do, and I decided I was ready for a change. I was ready for the kind of leap of faith it takes to go somewhere for someone, I was ready for something new, and I was ready to try doing something at least somewhat related to what I studied.
In many ways, change can be tricky. It can involve late nights, some strange sleeps – sometimes in strange places, and often big chunks of your bank account suddenly disappearing into thin air. It involves goodbyes over wet eyes, and in our case it also meant the emptying and cleaning out of a much, much loved kitchen pantry. It also involved rushing home from goodbye drinks to frantically finish packing a few hours before our early morning flight, but let’s not focus on the specifics. Change, that funny thing they say is the only contstant, it can be kind of crazy.
Still, I find, change can also be the very best thing, and for many of the same reasons at that. Those goodbyes, the ones with the long hugs, the ones that come with a small jar of homemade blackberry jelly tucked into your palm with a handwritten label telling you how you’ll be missed, or a big envelope with a card full of scribbled memories to be read on the plane, they don’t necessarily happen without those big changes. The tugging at your heartstrings when you are far from many of the people, places and things that you really love can make a sweet reminder of how lucky you are to have reasons to get homesick. The deep cleansing of all your worldly possessions in order to trim them down to quantity of luggage that is hopefully somewhat reasonable for a transatlantic flight can feel really fantastic, once you get past the tremendous-ness of the task. But really, the part that can be almost addictive and intoxicating is that new beginning, the fresh start and all the excitement and possibility that can fill you with.
Yesterday morning, scurrying about to get ready for work, scooping up spoonfuls of müsli as I ironed my collared shirt, I was particularly struck by how much has changed since those few months ago. The seasons have changed, and my postal code and dress code have both changed too. My family isn’t within biking distance, and sandy beaches are now only accessible via vacation. Instead of mountains to point me North when I am lost, all I can hope to spot is the TV tower, which makes me smile in that it sort of looks like Science World if it were held proudly in the sky, but doesn’t really help with directions all that much since the sparkly silver sphere looks the same from every angle.
Yet, the human bean adapts. There are new routines to be created, and new roots to grow, no matter how long or short lasting they will be. There are new neighbourhoods with their own respective swimming pools, and there are still carrots to be bought on the way home. Heck, there are even a few last spoonfools of blackberry jelly to be eaten. There are biergartens to visit, and autobahns to explore. There are familiar faces and foods in Germany, too, ones that I miss when I am not here. And…I wouldn’t say that I have a favourite place here yet, but Berlin even has some pretty fine tasting falafel.
- flying! it never gets any less exciting
- view from our bedroom window of a building I think I really like
- catching up with old friends/ new roommates Amadeus and Amadeus Female
- some variation of this curtain seems to hang in about 9 out of 10 German windows
- poking around through a box of old slides at a flea market
living in Berlin again is a funny mix of novelty and nostalgia… exploring markets and cobblestone steets, pretending I can actually hear the different between Ü and U, rediscovering my affection for the grocery stores here, finding it impossible to keep up with the late, late nights this city is so good at, admiring – somewhat confusedly – all the men who bike to work in their business suits… and finding it disorienting to be so far from any mountains. oh, and to wake up to the sound of birds chirping wildly from an arm’s reach away. that can be very confusing to a person in a vulnerable, half awake state.
A few things I’ve been enjoying around town lately:
Scraps: The Green General Store – a new shop on Main St. that only carries items that are locally made from re-cycled materials … and a doucheBAG in their window display!
iFound Gallery – a little shop I stumbled upon, a block down from Scraps, that feels almost like a flea market, only with carefully curated and creatively displayed items – I love the huge antique teeter totter with tangles of chains dangling from it, and I think using muffin tins and persian rugs to organize jewelry and brooches is are great ideas that would work at home, too.
Finally tasting the deliciousness that is Bandidas. Their food in inspired, fresh, and ethically sourced. More impressive, though, is that they somehow manage to make vegetarian Mexican food, something I would’ve previously considered an oxymoron.
Playland! And the unique joy found in a mini doughnut.
A few of my favorite scenes from the Pride Parade (above) and the Festival of Lights (below).
I just finished packing up my bags, and I am going to miss this city.
Giggling uncontrollably at the over-the-top theatrics of the Lucha Libre (and losing our heads when we noticed we were on the stadium’s big screens!); exploring different neighbourhoods until our feet blistered; eating our weight in pozole, ceviche, guacamole, tacos, mexican pastries and fresh fruit; raising the roof of some pretty eccentric nightclubs; falling asleep in the sun on the rooftop of my friend’s apartment buildling; blasting rap music as we drove through hilly towns and lush green landscapes to spend days in Teotihuacan and Cuernevaca; tieing friendship bracelets around our wrists; too much ice cream, followed by a piece of flan; many conversations attempted with locals, using a combination of one part broken Spanish, three parts body language, and two parts blank stares and covering a surprising range of topics; spicy mar snacks at the Mezcaleria; cilantro, salsa verde and limes with everything…
You know you’ve had a great trip when a week later your mind is still wandering through the colorful streets of Roma or biting into a soft Mexican pastry on the patio of a cafe in Condessa… and when you’re already daydreaming about your next trip back.
Next time I’m in Mexico I hope to drive up to Las Pozas, a surrealist garden built in the middle of the tropical rain forest, because it sounds awesome and beautiful; to find the market with the fried fish and ceviche tacos and spend a day there eating myself into a food coma (again), because they had the best food I tasted all trip; and to hopefully not forget the bag of Mexican candies, soft little sweets made with chillies and tamarind, in my friend’s apartment, because that kind of broke my heart.
When Mexico won the World Cup game vs. France last weekend, the city kind of exploded. It felt like New Years Eve, but a really excellent daytime version, combined with that time Canada won the Olympic Gold for Hockey in our own stadium, fueled by plenty of firey salsa verde and fresh cilantro, and it was absolutely incredible.
In the middle of the city’s main boulevard, an army of elated Mexicans gathered around to celebrate by running in circles around a statue of an Angel. We laughed, we screamed, we danced, we sprayed shaving cream/silly string (really not sure what it was) everywhere, we lost our voices and we did the wave. And when our eyes began to burn from all the spray stuff, and the celebratory vibe started to feel less excited patriotism and more Girls Gone Wild, we elbowed our way out of the mosh pit to seek refuge in a nearby cafe.
It was sad to see Mexico lose to Argentina after seeing how much joy and group-hugging it brought, but its exciting to think of all the parties going on around the world before, during and after every match.
My head is still spinning a little from all the things we saw, people we met, and treats we ate. Mexico City kind of made my heart race.
