April 13

Among all the other wonderful things Shelley has managed is the weather. Although rain has been forecast for several days now, the sky has remained blue sprinkled only with some amazing fluffy cloud formations. 

Gila needed her her coffee this morning, so once she was ready, we headed out for a small coffee place on Main called Brew. Gila finally had a delicious cappuccino and chocolate muffin. I still felt rocky from the day before and chose just to keep her company. Today was our trip to Robben Island. I had been coughing all night and Gila was concerned about my catching pneumonia on the ferry across, but there was no question that I would go on this outing.


We returned to the Waterfront for the ride across. The sailing was very smooth and provided us with the view of Cape Town from the water. The mountains, especially Table Mountain predominate. The city sprawls, glittering. A fog appears to be slowly climbing the lower reaches of the mountain. We see otters and  seals swimming in the harbour and a southern right whale with its baby further out. The entrance to the island is foreboding as the entire pier is lined with pointed and conical concrete blocks. It looks like the solid form of barbed wire.

As grim as it was, it had a sanitized feeling, spartan but clean and orderly. Our guide was a former inmate of the prison. In total, fourteen of the guides had been imprisoned on the island. I love the irony. The man was very welcoming and seemed proud to be able to tell the visitors of the difficult and unfair way of life the inmates were subjected to. He didn't talk at us, but rather walked among us and tried to make us interact with him as well. He was able to make his presentation in a light humerous manner. He described his crime and those of most of the others as terrorism but made it clear that these men were not terrorists. An interesting distinction. Although I know he was speaking English, he was very difficult to understand and Shelley had to translate for us a number of times. We were told of the reception of inmates, the way in which the guards tried to create enmity among the prisoners by giving some proper clothing and others only shorts and sandals, how the Asians and coloureds received slightly better food than the blacks, the methods of torture and the solidarity that developed among the prisoners nonetheless. We walked through the the different cell blocks, saw Mandela's cell and walked through the various work yards. The passageways were dark and narrow, the cells claustrophobically small and everything was surrounded by barbed wire. The daily life there was in direct opposition to the beautiful day and the tourists enjoying an excursion. 

The second half of our visit consisted of a bus tour of the island. Although Gila would have dearly loved to have gotten off the bus at each stop for photos, she had to content herself with shots through the window. The guide kindly explained that the tour was only 45 minutes in length but if everyone left the bus for pictures, it would take until seven in the evening. Robben Island was once a leper colony. We stopped at the leper graveyard that seemed well maintained compared to the few markers of deceased prisoners. Most families were allowed to take home the bodies of their loved ones for burial.

We saw houses built for the guards and for the military, a building that housed the school, the warden's house and the church. There is also a power generating facility on the island meaning that it is not subject to load shedding, the temporary planned blackouts due to high usage. In all, there are about 250 residents on the island today. Along with the sights we were told the history of the island as far back as the mid sixteen hundreds when it was a prison for the Portuguese. Although the stories of the conditions were horrendous, it did not have the same effect as my visits to concentration camps where the purpose was not to debase inmates but to murder them.

We had been due to return by 3:00 but the boat was delayed because it could not sail until it was full. Our plans then underwent a slight adjustment. Instead of having lunch at the waterfront, we drove right to Table Mountain intending to have a snack there and view the city from the top of the mountain. As we drove, a front was moving in and the wispy clouds just kissing the mountains were becoming heavy cloud cover enveloping the mountain.

I had a ginger iced tea and a sandwich to hold me until dinner and by the time we began to circle the mountain top for bird's eye views of Cape Town, the fog had already limited the visibility. There are numerous picture with houses popping through gaps in the clouds. The plants have been allowed to grow all around the walkways and lookout areas have been incorporated on all sides of the mountain. The one animal we saw was called a dassie. It is about the size of a bunny but resembles a very furry rodent. We were told that the closest relative was the elephant. Given the size differential, I find that hard to believe. As we came down the cable car an hour or so later, the city became visible once more but now under a cloud covered sky.

For dinner we went to Mama Africa, a restaurant with live music. This evening the entertainment was provided by an African marimba group. Unfortunately, our table was at the back and the noise in the restaurant made it difficult to fully appreciate the music. The menu was all traditional African food, but the absolute best was the dessert, banana flambé. It consisted of a banana fried in butter and covered with an amarula sauce and ice cream. It was brought to the table aflame and the fusion of the hot liqueur sauce, the sweet fried bananas, and frozen ice cream was intense and delicious. I am looking to buy a bottle at the duty free shop to take home with me. By nine o'clock I could barely keep my eyes open and before my head even hit the pillow I was fast asleep.

April 11 - 12

My plan was to write about each day's events each evening, but until today I was stuffed up with a cold and extraordinarily tired by the time we got back to our flat. Tonight is the first evening that I have not felt dead on my feet, but now I see that writing every few days will be quite enough.

One of the interesting customs(?) is to pay someone to watch your car when you park on the beach. At intersections there are many African Nationals begging for money either for themselves or for some cause. Even walking down the street you are constantly approached to buy some craft or make a donation. These people are very insistent and you must provide a very firm no to stop them.

Saturday, April 11, Daniel and Shelley's mom Brigid joined us for a tour of wineries in Stellenbosch. It was another perfect day in terms of weather. We left at eight in the morning so our plan was to stop for breakfast on the road. Daniel was headed for the Hillcrest Berry Farm. The site overlooking the planted grape vines was beautiful and we chose to eat outside on the terrace. Waffles were served with sugared water instead of maple syrup but the addition of a fruit compote and ice cream made up for it. Although the food was wonderful, the service surprisingly was not.

Then we visited Delheim for wine testing. Truth be told, it does not take a lot of wine to make me tipsy. After tasting three whites (I especially liked Chenin Blanc) a rose and two reds I was more than just a bit light headed. The plan had been to visit a number of wineries, but given how I felt after six tastings, I would have had to be carried to the car if I had anymore. Instead we visited a brandy distillery. The reception/tasting area was like a men's club in an English manor, high back leather armchairs and sofas. 

By now, we were hungry for lunch and Daniel drove us to a highly touted winery for lunch. We were disappointed that the kitchen had already closed and were directed the the deli for food. As soon as I ate it, picnic style, it not sit well in my stomach, but now we determined to to watch sunset on a beach. We arrived at Noordehoek just in time to see the change of colours as the sun sank into the sea. Daniel is very knowledgeable about both geography and geology and was able to point out where the limestone turned into sandstone. There is something primeval in the sound of the surf crashing. Add the families spending time together and dogs running through the sand, for an almost idyllic evening. 

The way back to Cape Town was on a very windy road. All along, my stomach was queasy and I kept swallowing to keep the bile down, but without any warning, I began to throw up. Daniel pulled over but not before I had made a mess of both my clothing and the car. The feeling that a serious cold was coming on certainly did not help. How embarrassing! 

Because I was not well, we planned on a late pick up on Sunday morning. We used the time to visit a pharmacy looking for something to relieve my cough and stuffy nose. The pharmacist was very helpful. When I asked for cough syrup, he checked if I was on any hypertension medication before suggesting something. It was still before before coffee so we stopped at a place called 65 on Main for coffee and breakfast. Ironically the coffee was instant but in her desperation for caffeine, Gila drank two cups.

We got back at the flat just as Shelley arrived. The plan was to drop us off at a beach on another picture perfect day while Shelley took the car to detail it due to my unfortunate accident the night before. Is there a beach in this city that is not breathtaking? Camp Bay Beach was in a small inlet and protected the Lion Head Mountain. The area where we parked ourselves was surrounded by boulders. The sight and sound of the waves crashing against the rocks was the perfect backdrop for the children playing and digging in the pools left with each surge of waves. Gila enjoyed herself taking photographs and sketching the surf. I tried to read but the brightness of the sun was too invasive and the constant coming and going of Africans selling water, ice cream, jewelry, hats, painted bowls and carved ebony tv type tables was too distracting. I was not feeling well and just chilling on the beach was a stressless way to pass a few hours.

When Shelley arrived with a clean car, we crossed the street to eat in an Italian restaurant, lovely service once again, and then we headed off to Kirstenbosch, the botanical garden. Each place we have visited is more breathtaking than the previous one. Beautiful expanses of grass separated the groves of native trees and plants ponds and birds. Purple flowers seemed to predominate, but the trees were most amazing. Walking among the trees was like being in an enchanted forest. I almost expected to see the Disney castle in the next clearing. The trunks and branches twisted and spread out like bony witch's fingers. It was only the clear blue sky that dissipated any sense of dread.

The most memorable part of the park was the tree canopy walkway. Although it was man made, it blended beautifully with the nature it it carried you through. The walkway consisted of thin wooden slats curving it's way through the tree tops.the curvature was mirrored in the rails on either side. There was a slight tremor caused by the those strolling on the walkway, but not enough to trigger my fear of heights. It was a short visit, but provided the weather is good, we will return Wednesday evening to watch the screening of Monty Python and the Meaning of life.

The first restaurant we went to for dinner was extraordinarily noisy with a throbbing electronic beat accompanying the sounds of people talking. So we moved to a hotel a block away for a quiet, sedate and elegant South African dinner. Gila had springbok and I tried the kingklip, a native white fish. Delicious!!!

In the time that we have been here, I have noticed impeccable service in almost every restaurant. Every staff member has waited on the tables with the most welcoming smile. Someone comes by regularly to check if you are happy with your food or want anything else. With the exception of Hillcrest Berry Farm, staff has been most accommodating and attentive. The other thing that I have noticed, is the beauty of so many of the African Nationals, both male and female. Their skin is ebony in colour and offset by dazzling white smiles. The braiding of the hair, the warmth of the eyes, the fluidity of the gait are so very enchanting. The white South African women are also very becoming, but in my eyes, they seem to lack the grace of the black women.

I was wrong. I don't seem to be able to summarize our days several at a time. Our Monday and Tuesday itinerary will follow when I am less tired.

April 10

The weather was beautiful but we did not make it to Robben Island. When we got to the ticket wicket, we learned that all the sailings were fully booked. We bought our tickets for Monday's first sailing and then enjoyed the Victoria and Alfred wharf. What a beautiful high end  complex it was! Zara, Apple, diamond outlets, Aldo and many others. There were many restaurants around the outside perimeter, many of them with outdoor terraces.

We stopped into a wonderful curio shop where I was able to to buy some souvenirs. The store was filled with carvings, masks, paintings, painted stone bowls, beaded statues, bowls and jewelry, musical instruments, music, photographs just to name a few. And the prices were very reasonable for a tourist venue.

Lunch was at a diner called Surf. The logo on the menu was an American Indian in full headdress. Very American style food, but the Greek salad and the Caesar salad all contained the same vegetables. There were olives and feta cheese 
in the Greek and croutons and chicken in the Caesar, but they came undressed. Supermarket dressings in a bottle had to do. Nevertheless, I hadn't had salad since i left home and I enjoyed the change.

We did some fine tuning of our itinerary. We cancelled the accommodations in Port Elizabeth and booked a room in Jeffery's Bay instead. It will reduce the driving time to East London and it has a spectacular beach for surfing. Being further north, I am hoping that the water will be warmer than what we already have experienced. I'd love to experience the surf without becoming numb with the cold. 

After lunch we did some more exploring. There was a ferris wheel similar to but smaller  than the one in London. A radio station was transmitting on site. Electric BMWs were on display. The trees were draped with intricate beaded blankets. It was a perfect tourist destination. One of the pavilions was filled with the creative work of Africans. Ranging from paintings to clothing and from glassware to a wide variety of jewelry. We had found this craft market on the way to the aquarium. Just before we turned into the aquarium we passed by a booth where African braiding was done. I had thought about braiding my hair on the plane to prevent sporting the Jewfro look. It was a perfect solution for keeping my hair under control. Had I thought about it a little more and had Gila not encouraged me I would have walked away and not given into the impulse. One minute I was chatting with the two Angolian women doing the plaiting and the next minute I was sitting in a chair having my hair divided into many sections and plaited tightly from the bottom up. I had suggested that Shelley and Gila go ahead to the Aquarium, but Gila true to form photographed and videoed my experience. Gila mentioned that her hair was too short and thin for braids, but Sylvie convinced her to get ten small braids made with extensions around her head. Hurray! I wasn't the only one to act on impulse. Shelley then in the spirit of solidarity, had one small braid put in across the front.



I was shocked when it was done and I looked in the mirror. I barely recognized myself. My hair was braided away from my face and now I am sporting a high forehead along with the braids. I'm still not used to how I look, but the consolation is that I will have to spend very little time or effort to have a neat hairstyle. Earlier in the day, Gila bought me an African beaded necklace. I am proud to say that I have gone African. I was not sure that I would like the braids but a lot of people have commented on it and asked where I had it done.

Finally, we made it to the aquarium. Although not as impressive or large as the one in Toronto, the displays of fish eels, anemones, coral, kelp sharks, manta rays and penguins were beautifully arranged. Sustainability was an important element of many of the displays.

The day had flown by but we had enough time for Gila to buy new comfortable runners before meeting Daniel, Shelley's boyfriend for dinner. We were taken  to a seafood place called Willoughby's. We started with sashimi and sushi and then moved on to the entree. It was a huge pan lined with rice and potatoes and topped with grilled lagostinos, prawns, cray fish and crab served with your choice of lemon butter, garlic butter and a tomato salsa. I have never tasted better shellfish. The meal was rounded out with carafes of wine and heavenly desserts, creme brûlée for Shelley and halva ice cream for Gila and me. The cheque reflected the quality of the meal. Daniel and Shelley wanted to foot the bill but we finally agreed to split it. It was 2400 rands for four people but well worth the cost.We lingered over dinner, Daniel and Gila discussing geography, geology and politics, while he and I compared our type A personalities. What a lovely man he is, generous, attentive and accommodating.

Tomorrow the plan is to drive to Stellenbosch, wine country, with Daniel and Shelley's mother, Brigette joining us. I'm looking forward to tasting South African vintages.

April 9

Our plan was to get going early on our first full day in Cape Town. Afraid I couldn't sleep, I had taken a sleeping pill. For the first time in years, I slept soundly through the night. Shelley was to pick us up at nine. I slept until 8:45 so we did not leave until 10:30. It was hot and sunny so our first stop was a beach. Shelley drove us around the cape on the coastal road that was lined with beaches and playgrounds. Although both of us would have liked to stop, Shelley convinced us that the water would be too cold because we were on the Atlantic side. She was taking us to Fish Hoek, a beach on the warmer Indian Ocean side. On the route we saw posh neighbourhoods terraced on the mountain, evidence of a serious fire three weeks earlier and spectacular views of mountain, bays and beaches.

Fish Hoek Beach was not disappointing. However the warm Indian Ocean was only 16 degrees. The only way you could move forward through the water was to wait until your legs felt numb. I would have liked to go out deeper and actually swim, but it was far too cold. There was a boundary of buoys and nets not too far off the coast. Shelley told us that there had been shark sittings and to keep safe, you had to stay within that boundary. 

We spent two hours relaxing, soaking up the rays and chatting before we were ready for lunch. Shelley took us to a wonderful restaurant right on the beach in Simon's Town. There was a craft market just off the parking lot and singers harmonizing beautifully as they performed well known African songs. The market was filled with stone sculptures, masks, beaded jewelry and bags, and hand painted wooden bowls. Our lunch on the terrace was fantastic and included shandies as well a Baileys type of liqueur made from an African fruit over ice. After our meal we tested the water, still cold but not quite as numbing and walked along the road to Boulders Beach which is part of the National Parks system. As we walked along to boardwalk, we saw the small African penguins. The boardwalk took us right to the ocean edge where we watched the awkward shuffling of the birds on land and their graceful transformation in the water. We also saw penguins taking care of their chicks in nests that were dug into the ground or formed inside of concrete arcs laid out by the park rangers.

We both wanted to move on to the mountains for sunset but by this time it was already 5:00 and we were too late to catch the last cable car up. Instead Shelley took us to the Rhodes Memorial. It is situated up on a hill with an incredible view of Muisenberg and the city. Shelley had mentioned going to the beach at sunset for a picnic, but we were too enthralled by the statues of lions lining the stairs and the spectacular vista of city and mountains to move on before sunset. 

We ended the day at an Italian restaurant just two blocks from our apartment. The food, wine and Italian ice cream desserts were a perfect end to this wonderful day. Both Gila and I think that Shelley is a wonderful person. She seems to understand the experiences we would like to have and is willing to do almost anything to please us. She is very down to earth, open and easy to talk to. She has informed us of the black white divide that still exists as a result of the end of apartheid and the corrupt habits of some of the country's politician. Not only are we seeing the sights but we are also learning a great deal about everyday life here. Now that we have this amazing guard and guide, I can't imagine seeing South Africa without her. 

If the weather is suitable tomorrow we will head out to Robben Island. If not, we will take in some museums. Either way, I can hardly wait.
 

April 7 - 8

I can't believe that I actually made it to South Africa! We have been talking about going for such a long time that up until a few days before the flight, it felt like a hypothetical exercise in planning.

Once both Seders were done, the reality hit and by Monday, I was all set to go, packed, fridge cleaned, house arrangements made. It felt like weeks not hours before our departure. Dark and early, the airport limo picked me up and drove to pick up Gila. We were at the airport by 6:45, but we had to wind our way through numerous lines. First to a departure window, where we were able to change our seats so that we were sitting next to each other, then for a mug shot and finally through American Security where I was forced to take off my runners. Some how, i managed to spain my ankle putting the shoes back on and i ended up limping to the departure gate. By the time we reached the right gate, we were both in desperate need of coffee. Our gate was near Starbucks, but the line up was so long that Gila trekked at least a half mile to locate a Tim Horton's. A little more settled now, we waited to boarding for the short flight to New York. 

In New York, we had to find the terminal for South African Airways and pass through security one more time. By the time we found the right departure point, the plane had already boarded. The flight was very light, giving both Gila and I the luxury of having empty seats around us. This was a marathon flight to Johannesburg and the empty seats provided us with room to stretch out while trying to sleep. We were served lunch with wine an hour into the flight and then the lights were turned off to simulate night at two in the afternoon. I took a sleeping pill in the hope (false as it turned out) that it would knock me out. Gila without any help slept for most of the trip. I watched two movies, neither memorable and tossed and turned even when I stretched out to get some shut eye. An hour prior to landing, the lights went back on and were served breakfast. Local time at landing was 8:00 a.m. My body was telling me that it was 2:00 in the morning.

We had 4 hours to kill before flying on to Cape Town. Some of the time was spent looking for the right terminal and having our bags rechecked. Porters swarmed in the airport and although we insisted that we needed no help, one man grabbed our cart and steered us to the correct check in window. Once he had forced himself upon us, we had no choice but to tip him. It was aggravating. We got new sim cards for our phones, spent a considerable time to get them to work and failed, proving once again that you get what you pay for. The sim card had been a free promotion by Virgin. By now I was too cranky to function and we sat down in a restaurant for coffee. The caffeine and rest helped, but I was in no mood to start shopping. We popped into a few stores as Gila wanted to rectify the phone difficulty and recharge her phone, but I suggested that the departure room would have outlets. I was right, but it turned out that neither of us had the right adaptor. It was a frustrating airport lay over. The Joburg terminal does not have enough room for all the planes so we had to take a bus out to the Tarmac. The flight to Cape Town was less than two hours, but by the time we landed at our final destination, it was after 2:00 p.m. the next day. We had been in transit for 27 hours. Again a porter we did not need attached himself to us, put the baggage on the cart and escorted us out of the arrivals area. I tipped him and then he asked Gila for a tip. We are going to have to be more forceful in refusing help at our next airport experience.

Shelley was waiting for us with a huge sign and before we even left the airport, she had supervised us getting other sim cards as well as a data and talk plan. Both our phones were dead but we stayed until the sales person had recharged both of them and verified that everything worked. Suitably connected we set off to find our apartment. The drive from the airport showed us the full gamut of South African housing, shanty town hovels, government sponsored cookie cutter communities and well to do neighbourhoods. Everywhere we looked there was evidence of security concerns. All houses are behind a locked door or gate. On top of the wall you can see broken shards of glass, electrified lines or metal spikes along the entire length.

Our apartment is small but well equipped and requires a keychain full of keys when leaving the premises. The front door has three different locks and the terrace door has two. There is one additional key for the safe. It is so unlike home where I have no difficulty leaving the house to shop or walk a dog with the doors left unlocked. Even in the car, anything not taken has to be stowed in the 'boot' so thieves are not tempted to break into the car.

I was tired but was afraid that if I took a nap, I would not wake up easily, so we unpacked, walked to the supermarket for breakfast foods and went out for a seafood dinner at a place called the Ocean Basket. Shelley is amazing. She brought us a box of staples for the apartment. She is easy to talk to and seems to understand what we want to get out of this visit. Having Leah put us in touch with Shelley, her best South African friend, will make this visit far more personal and packed with diversions that we could never find if we had come entirely on our own. This trip is going to be an experience of a lifetime.

Rosh Hashanah 5775

For years now, I have been hosting the Rosh Hashanah first night dinner. I started when making a holiday meal was just too much work for my mother. Initially, she still made the gefilte fish, the best I have ever tasted, but I did the rest of the work. My father would purchase the turkey so it could still be his dinner and to ensure for my mother's sake, that the meat was kosher. Often the gesture was more aggravation than it was worth. I shudder to think of what my father thought of me if he thought that I would cook non kosher meat when I knew how important it was to my mother. I remember one year when we were not a big group, he bought just half a turkey, leaving me to wonder how to roast just half a bird.

Fortunately, it did not take long to realize that no one in the family, other than my mother, knew how to make the fish. It was a tradition that I did not want to see vanish. At first, I asked for the recipe. It existed only in her head and in her taste buds. She could easily tell me the ingredients, but not the quantities. How did she know when it was right? By tasting the fish until the balance of sweet and salty was right. Because not everyone liked the sweet fish that my father preferred, she always made two separate batches, the obligatory sweet as well as the salt and pepper. I started the learning process by joining her each time she made the fish. I generally am not a slave to a recipe, but I need guidelines. I learned the ingredients in her recipe and the method, adding ice water to the ingredients and stirring by hand for at least an hour. However, it took a number of years until I managed to replicate the taste of my mother's fish. Often the salt and pepper batch lacked enough of either seasoning but the sweet was too watery. I checked each cookbook I had and sites on the internet for a recipe that could compare to my mother's. One recipe was based on 5 pounds of fish, another was too salty, another was too sweet. It was hard finding a recipe with the ground almond my mother used. I tried using parts of a variety of recipes, forgetting what combinations I had used the next time I stared at a bowl of raw ground fish. After a few years, I finally hit the right combination. I also prepare all the fish using my salt and pepper recipe and take off a portion to sweeten. I have finally found what works. I must remember to star that recipe and to note the changes I made so that I can recreate my mother's fish consistently.

This year's dinner was a huge success. I had finished all the preparations with a few hours to unwind before my guests came. Leah came the day before to help me put the extensions into the table and set it with the good china, crystal and the silver. The challah was prepared and frozen two weeks ago. I had completed most of the baking a week earlier. Over the weekend I made the soup and the kreplach. Monday, I made the gefilte fish. Tuesday, I brined the turkey and prepared the elements of the dessert. All that was left was to make was the potato kugel and the glazed vegetables, bake the thawed chalet, put the turkey in the oven and assemble the dessert. For the first time, I did not prepare too many dishes nor fret for two weeks before the event.

That is not too say that the dinner was flawless. I used wonton wrappers for the kreplach. Afraid that overstuffing the wrappers would lead to the kreplach opening during the cooking, I limited the chicken filling to only one teaspoon. They were not full enough and after they were cooked, I had to trim the extra flapping dough off each kreple. Because the oven was taken over by the turkey, I cooked the vegetables in the crock pot. You would think that six hours on low would be enough time. I did and I was wrong. Most of the vegetables were raw and the onions were still crisp and sharp in taste. I turned the crock pot on again after everyone had left and after another few hours a wonderful aroma wafted through the house and the vegetables, including the onions were soft and sweet. The dessert was heavenly and not as hard to prepare as I had imagined. In order to be done all the preparations at least an hour before guests arrived, I assembled the phyllo pastry layers and the tahini infused cream in the early afternoon. The taste of the halva mille feuilles was amazing, but sitting all afternoon, the pastry absorbed some of the moisture of the creme and was soggy rather than flakey.

Willie and his family, dog included arrived early to give Jackson, the dog, some time to acclimatize to the new surroundings. Shortly after that, Irv and his family, including a case of girl guide cookies. Unfortunately, Josh and Christine were in Alaska and I really missed their presence when everyone else was surrounded by their children and spouses. In the past, we had trouble finding a book with the Rosh Hashanah kiddish. This year Willie found it online and read it off the modern version of a siddur, his cell phone.

The dinner went well. The sarcasm and sniping were Non existent. Everyone was warm and friendly. Scarlett tried to feed and play with Jackson between courses. I was relieved that she did not find the size of the dog intimidating. After dinner, she put on her sales hat and everyone bought girl guide cookies. I was surprised, though, that anytime she had to make a food choice she asked Leah whether or not she liked what was being served. I served, Leah cleared the table and loaded the dishwasher after each course. I actually had time to enjoy the company. The challah was sweet and fluffy. The fish was a great success. Irv, who always claims that my cooking is good but not as good as our mother's said that it was the best fish I had ever made. The potato kugel vanished in no time and the turkey was moist and succulent. Unfortunately, I was the only one to enjoy the glazed vegetables after they had cooked for a sufficient length of time. The dessert was amazing. Even Anna who limited her intake to turkey and cranberry sauce, ate it. No one noticed the lack of flakiness in the pastry. And all the baking was delicious. The pinwheel cookies were a big hit. Irv wanted to take some home because they reminded him of the cookies that mom always made. Scarlett took the rest. No one got into a snit. Everyone was warm to one another. Only water was spilled (thankfully no tears). Nothing was forgotten. All the food prepared was served.

That is not to say that the dinner was perfect. I had brewed a pot of David's delicious iced tea and forgot to serve it until Cynthia turned down hot tea. I had put the candles on the table, but forgot to light them. A piece from a chair snapped off and I was quite casual about it. I chatted with everyone but spent a minimal amount of time in the kitchen and when I finally did go in, the leftovers were stored in the fridge, the serving platters were washed and the counters were cleaned. Leah had worked throughout the meal. I appreciated it and I know that Leah enjoys helping, but I wished that she had spent more time with the rest of us in the dining room.

In the past, I have been very tense during the dinners that I used to consider an ordeal rather than a celebration. I like to think that my calm made everyone else feel at ease and in the end the atmosphere was convivial. I wasn't darting around fussing about the final details. It was a relaxed and pleasant evening. I even got a little hug from Scarlett. Here was another occasion when I felt no need for a facade. I was comfortable just being myself. Medication, sleep and therapy have made a world of difference in how I see the world and react to it.

My summer at the cottage with Gila

Minden, July and August 2014

I have intended to continue this blog, but rather than write up each day in meticulous detail, I have decided instead to note what I have learned this summer so far. These realizations are in no significant order.

I have learned that I love cooking for anyone who thinks cooking is magic and raves about the simplest dishes.

I have learned that the  aroma of muffins baking and coffee perking is a delightful way to wake up. Gila is thrilled to greet the day with these scents. She calls them magic muffins. Hardly, but since she has never made muffins, it seems like magic to her.

I have learned that I am an impatient teacher and Gila is an 'I need to do it all by myself' type of student. One day after breakfast, she decided to make her virgin muffins. I helped place the ingredients necessary on the counter. Gila put anything that I had touched back so she could do it herself. I handed her the whisk. She made me put it back so she could get it herself. I told her that the amount of yogurt in the container was enough and it wasn't necessary to scrape it into a measuring cup. She scraped it into the cup anyway. (It was the exact right amount.) I suggested that she measure the salt over the sink, not over the bowl and fortunately, she did follow that piece of advice because the overspill went into the sink, not into the muffin batter. By this time, I had learned. I didn't even try to get out the muffin tin or the little paper cups. The muffins were a great success but took longer to prepare than to bake. I wonder if there will be muffins when I spend another few days in Toronto.

I have learned that baking for breakfast, leftovers for lunch, a full dinner followed by a late evening dessert of ice cream and Baileys is not conducive to maintaining, let alone losing weight.

I have learned that I can easily drink shandies with every lunch and Pinot Grigio at every dinner and not consider myself an alcoholic.

I have learned that there are some courses at the Haliburton School of the Arts and not look and feel like an imposter. There are writing courses, quilting classes, remodeling clothes classes, indigo dying classes. I think I could achieve a measure of success in any one of those courses.

I have learned that each time Gila and I talk, the conversation always becomes about realizations. Even if we start discussing a meal or the view of an sunset together, the conversation morphs into a serious discussion about beliefs and experiences and

I have learned that daily therapy from Dr. Gila has been very cathartic. She understands where I have come from and identifies with many of my experiences. She helps me see my experiences through a less negative prism. The drawback is that she isn't registered on OHIP so this activity could end up being very costly.

I have learned that early in the morning when the lake is very still, you can see debris (organic, I think) insects and sometimes even scum on the surface of the water. This is not very inviting. When the wind picks up or when motor boats and seadoos wend their way around the lake, the water seems much cleaner. I've been avoiding early morning swims for that reason.

I have learned that getting into a pedal boat that is not anchored should not be done one foot at a time.

I have learned that if you head back home when you start getting tired, it is already too late to turn back.

I have learned that if you have knee and ankle issues, four hours in a pedal boat is not the best idea.

On the way to the cottage on Horseshoe Lake Road, we pass rapids at the point where the lake and the river meet as well as the Beth El Bridge. From there it takes an additional four to five minutes to get to the cottage. Sitting on the dock on the lake you can see that there is an entrance to a cove, not too far off. Gila was convinced that the bridge and rapids were at the end of that cove. The best way to confirm this was to take the pedal boat out there to check it out. The bridge is at the end of a cove but it is at the end of the third cove not the first. We had a difficult time recognizing the spot we had passed so many times. When we drive by, we notice the river, the rapids and the bridge. We have never noticed what is on the other side of the road. From the water, what we thought was a beach was just a narrow strip of shore. The sand we saw from the road was not a beach but rather the sandy parking area for this public area. The other side of the road was on a higher elevation with homes overlooking the road. We had never seen these buildings and they looked far too established to have been built in the few weeks we have been in the Minden area. 

We anchored the pedal boat, had a short rest and swim before heading back to the cottage (against the current in the homeward direction). Gila was already in the boat so it was my job to untie the boat from its moorings and then get back in. I found out the hard way that when the boat is floating, you do not try to get in by just stepping into it. One foot got into the craft, the craft started to move away, I tried to hop closer to it, I lost my balance and finally fell into the water. Gila managed to get her camera out and is planning to use the film clip as blackmail. Once Gila and I stopped laughing hysterically, I tried again, this time successfully, by sitting on the edge and swinging both my legs over into the boat at the same time. I'm not sure why that was not my first approach. It certainly was easier, drier and more efficient. By the time we reached our dock, our legs were wobbly, like rubber and we both had difficulty coordinating the simple one foot in front of the other manoeuver needed for walking. I hurt in places I didn't even know I had for several days. I'm not sure when I will be willing to brave the pedal boat again.

I have learned that knitting should not be done on any wooden structure that has spaces between the boards. 

While knitting on the deck, the needle slipped from my fingers as I completed a row and fell straight through a gap, landing under the deck. I had to crawl almost the full length of the deck to retrieve it. For my troubles, I got pebbles embedded into my knees, I found a small paint brush, a pen and finally a toonie for my troubles. One would think I had learned the lesson at that point, but I apparently am a slow learner. Later in the week I was knitting again but this time on the dock at Irv's cottage. The same scenario occurred at the end of the row. No one was willing to crawl under the dock in the water to find it for me, so with some luck, Irv will find it when he hauls the dock in at the end of the season. In the meantime, I'd like to finish the sweater before the end of the summer so I had to buy another pair of needles. Had I learned my lesson with these two incidents? Nope. A few days later I was knitting on the deck and once more, when I finished a row, the new needle fell down under the deck. Again, I had to get down on my protesting knees to retrieve it (and a fork I had dropped the day before). The next time I decided to knit, I spread a towel underneath the chair I was in and even though I dropped the needle a number of times, I still have both of them. Like I said, there are days when I am slow on the uptake.

I have learned how to get farts out of a hollow noodle.

I have learned that before you turn on the stove, you need to make sure that the burner cover is off the burner. I learned that scorched metal sets off the smoke alarm and has a nasty smell that is hard to dissipate.

I have learned to remove any plastic objects from adjacent burners when you are cooking at maximum heat. The kettle here still works, but one of the edges makes it look like a refugee from a Dali painting.

I have learned that in order to share in the costs of living in the cottage, I have to go shopping by myself.

I have learned that to avoid washing dishes you need to say either, "I'm digesting my food, I'll do them later" or "I don't do dishes" while waving your artfully manicured and rhinestoned fingernails.

I have learned that keeping waffles in the oven for two and a half hours renders them as hard as hockey pucks and therefore inedible.

I have learned that I am much better at finding things someone else has lost than something I have lost.

Gila misplaced on of the three remotes that belong to the entertainment centre. She looked everywhere, in the bedrooms, under furniture, in the bathroom, in the kitchen.  She despaired that it was gone forever. As I walked by the sofa, the remote was clearly visible between the throw pillows.
The gold bracelet that I bought at a Northland fundraiser several years ago has gotten into the habit of slipping off my wrist. You would think that I would stop wearing it or get it shortened. That's what a person careful with her possessions would do. I on the other hand .  .  .   The first time I lost it, it was in the sleeve of the sweater I had been wearing. I found it the next day. Then it went missing again when I visited Irv's cottage the first time. I retraced all my steps but could not find it. Five months later, when a guest opened up the bed sofa, he found the bracelet. Now I was determined not to lose it again. I was afraid that the third time, the loss would be permanent. When I was descending the ladder into the lake, I noticed that I had forgotten to remove the bracelet. So, I climbed back on to the dock and put it in the pocket of my fleece where I knew it was safe. Trying to find it at the bottom of the lake would have been a little hard. Two days later, getting ready to go home for a few days, I decided to put my bracelet back on. I looked in the first pocket. No bracelet. I looked in the second pocket. No bracelet. Maybe I had put it in my sweatshirt, not my fleece. Nope, not in either of those pockets. It tried to retrace my steps. I had been cold and tired after my swim. I was wearing the fleece and took a nap on the sofa which also opens into a bed. No luck. I looked under the sofa and beds. I looked in the garden where I had been sitting in the sun. I somehow knew that if I were careless the third time it would likely be gone forever, so I just stopped thinking about the bracelet and accepted that it was gone.A week later, on my return from another visit home, it had turned quite chilly. It honestly felt like a late September day, not a mid August date. Before I went out to barbeque, I put on the fleece to keep warm while waiting for the meal to cook, I put my cold hands into the pockets. At the bottom of the left pocket, I heard a jingle and felt a chain. It was my lost bracelet! I know that I had checked the seemingly empty pockets on multiple occasions, but each time, there was no evidence of any bracelet and yet a week later, there it was! I have put it into my wallet and plan to have it altered once I am home. I just hope it won't play hide and seek when I am packing up for home.

I have learned that I am not as good at multitasking as I thought. Breathing and talking at the same time is very difficult.

I have learned that when the air is chilly, despite the sun, the lake will also be cold. If you are determined, nevertheless, to go in swimming because it is the last day at the cottage, the only way to get into the lake is by jumping. Your entire body gets numb instantly so you can no longer feel the cold.

I have learned that if you stand in a marsh, you will sink into the mud. If you are wearing crocs, the crocs stay in the mud when you try to release your feet. If the crocs are dark blue, they are very well camouflaged and difficult to retrieve.

I learned that if you fall in the mud, even your panties under your leggings get mucky. 

I learned that if you want some wild flowers, it makes more sense to take the long walk to the road than to pick them from the marsh beside the cottage.

I have learned to relax. To get any looser, my bones would have to be removed.

I have learned that when I am low, I function better among people than alone.

I have learned that when I am annoyed, to remember that I speak English and address the problem rather than letting it fester, turning a mole hill into a mountain.

And finally, I have confirmed that having Gila in my life is a godsend.

Despite a few blips, this has been a memorable summer. July started on shaky ground with the Jewish alpha women together for a long, long weekend followed by a few weeks of feeling low and withdrawn. But once I got myself out of the funk, everything became fun again. We laughed constantly and have reached a point where a single word is all that is necessary to remind us of an incident. That word often initiates even more laughter. But we have also had serious moments, relating past memories and events, finding shared experiences and just listening when either one of us feels the need to rejoice, to mourn or to vent.

When my relationship with Judy ended, I felt an enormous hole in my existence. The  hurt, the self recriminations and regret are still there, but having Gila in my life has made me feel more secure about myself and my place in this world. I am finally getting to know who I am. The facades are crumbling and the masks have vanished. My choices, my actions, my reactions, my words are all mine, not the ones I think are expected of me. It is a much easier and satisfying way to live. I have no doubt that there will be moments when the perceived expectations of others will push me off my new path. But by remembering to set and maintain boundaries, I am confident that I will continue to discover that the facades and masks are not needed and I    can continue to emerge from the pit I put myself into for most of my life