Memories of distant shores

This morning I thought about travelling. I often do, especially when having my breakfast. A juicy grapefruit, that has stored rays of sun, brings forth memories of carefree days in a rental car, in an exchanged home, by the Pacific Ocean. I remembered the fresh date shake I had in the almost unbearable heat of Indio, in the Californian desert. It was made with dates from local palms. And the flies that were all around us, tormenting us, in the almost unbearable heat of the same little town, only years before. And I thought about the flat we borrowed in Cannes, right by the beach promenade, and the rosé wine I went out to get from the nearest wine merchant, wearing my new polkadot skirt, while my husband was making dinner. When showering, I could feel my skin being sore from the sun, the sand on the floor and the smell of my "soap and glory" shower gel.

The unexpected snow that hit us on the mountain before we started our descent into the hottest place on earth (yes, the Libyan record has been falsified since). The almost deserted resort by the almost deserted perfect sandy beach on the small Greek island in the Aegean Sea. I don't think the travel bug will ever leave me. Ever since I grew up in that small town where I let my mind carry me as far as it could at the sight of the tracks leading south from the railway station, I have nurtured the longing for the freedom that a packed bag and a travel ticket always brings. 

A blocked nose and some very expensive wine

My husband and I hosted a wine tasting evening last Friday. We had managed to come by two of the best Chardonnay wines in the world. And this in a country where sales of alcohol is controlled by the government. I have a rather stubborn cold going, and had to use some decongestant spray before our evening started. As I smelled the first wine, a Batard-Montrachet Grand Cru 2008, the first thing I noticed was an almost chemical smell, and thought it could be affected by the nasal spray. Others were however commenting on notes such as butter, fruit, etc etc. The taste was quite complex, and the aftertaste lingered on and on, but I was not blown away by this wine the same way the others were.

After tasting the other 5 wines, having a break, and then going back to them, a question was brought forth by another member of the group, and I will recount the gist of it in a very simplified (and probably incorrect) form here: if you were to drink one wine for an eternity, which of these wines would it be? I surprised the others by choosing the simplest wine of them all, an Argentinian wine. It almost fell flat in comparison to the others when I first tasted it, but later I realized that it was actually very pleasant and easy to drink, and I think I'd rather have that for an eternity than something which in comparison feels like a blow to your face. Others made the comment that if you are stuck with one thing for an eternity, it needs to be something which retains your interest, and gives you something a little new every time.

I don't know whether to be alarmed by my view on this or not, have I really become someone who just wants to ease my way through life without any challenges? Or have I always been this way? Maybe my life is presenting me with enough challenges at the moment, and I am therefore longing for some peace and quiet? I think I will try to store these questions and ask them again, as they point to something quite crucial in my view on matters.

A very long day

Bedtime is taking ages now! In one month my daughters will turn two, but I think they are already getting prepared to drop their daytime nap. Coming down with yet another cold, I have just trudged through today, also being tired from the night before as the girls woke me up at 2am and stayed awake for what felt like an hour, before getting up for the day around 7am. It was therefore not what I wanted to sit for 50 minutes by their cots while they were jumping up and down and running around. I used to have a window of about an hour to myself after putting them to bed, but now it seems I need that time for sleep.

I thought the forbidden thought today of what life would be like if we never had them. Of course I love them to bits, I don't even need to say that, but nobody who hasn't experienced it themselves will understand what it's like to live life only having to care about yourself for 34 years, and then suddenly have two babies. Who don't like to sleep a lot. But I realized that apart from travelling more, I probably wouldn't have used that extra time to do something really constructive anyway. A lot of the time would have been spent playing video games, watching films, and sleeping. But instead I get to lie on our tiled floor next to my children while they play with toy trains, fighting over some kind of gate that they both would like to assemble properly but are not really able to do yet.

Anyway, I'm just hoping this cold I'm getting won't turn into a nasty one, as we're having a wine tasting evening on Friday, and I don't want to spend my 7th part of the 2000 SEK Grand Cru wondering what it actually tasted like, having to swallow quickly as I won't be able to breathe through my nose...

OK, lets start this shall we...

Half a glass of some kind of fine white wine, both kids finally asleep, 10 minutes until my bedtime, and I'm ready to go.

So what happened today? Not that it will be of interest to anyone else, and not even to myself at a later date, that I tried to get rid of the bugs pestering our tomato plants. Or that I had a pizza of the day for lunch in the restaurant that is located just below our flat. Do I need a valid reason to start blogging? I suppose I do, to myself anyway, as I've never really thought of myself as anyone possessing a wealth of anecdotes or interesting experiences to share with everyone else on a daily basis.  We'll see though if that reason starts to appear as I go on.

Strangely enough I made the decision to start today when seeing Portishead's "Dummy" being no 31 on Rolling Stone's list of the 100 best debut albums. Don't ask me how it is related.