A Walk With My Goats

Yesterday I took a late afternoon walk with my goats.  It's something I used to do more often when they were kids but am trying to get back in the habit with them because I live in just the most gorgeous area by the river.  There aren't many people around except for a few at cattle posts and since having been back in the area for six months now, I know a lot of them.  I love the open bush and exploring all the little paths.  Looloo and Feefee enjoy climbing up termite mounds and foraging seed pods and what's left of anything green.  They jump around, kick their feet in the air, and make happy little goat sounds.

Maun Taxi

Taxis and combis in Maun often have names.  I always see this taxi, Oral, driving around town and wonder what the driver was thinking in giving such a name.  I mean, oral sex is quite taboo here.  I actually don't think it's about that.  But hasn't anyone told him?  Is he just a talkative guy?  What does it mean?

Kittens and Goats

Here are some updated shots of my cats relaxing on the porch.  The beds are for my goats, Looloo and Feefee but during the day they all share.

I think Salty looks quite glamourous in this this shot and she's totally showing off her tight post-kittens belly.

And here's Pepper with her burgeoning belly.  She has quite the appetite.  They're all so cute.

French Dinner Party For Three

Last night I recreated the meal Katy and I learned at our cooking class in Paris for my friends Clara and Alex.  It started off a bit American though with a cheese board before dinner (quel horreur!) with smuggled products from Paris.  Then I served cauliflower soup with Roquefort (smuggled as well).  Dinner was leek and mushroom stuffed lamb with snap peas and roasted baby potatoes.  All very simple and hearty.  Just the thing for a cold winter evening in Botswana.  For desert I served lemon and orange curd over rounds of pate brise.  We had a lovely time.

View from our apartment

Katy and I shared a very sweet little pied à terre for the week.

Paris, je t'aime

I've had a lovely week in Paris.  Every time I come back I discover new places and never tire of revisiting the old and familiar ones.

Morning Croissant

This morning our corner boulangerie was closed and Katy had to run around Montmartre looking for another one to satisfy our croissant habit.  Katy and I enjoy all good croissants but what she brought back today was quite special.  It's a chocolate croissant filled with almond paste and then doused in some kind of alcohol.  You'd think butter, chocolate, and almonds would be enough for most Parisians in the morning but I suppose even that can come to seem normal.

Cooking with Rebeka

Today Katy and I took a French cooking class.  We met up with a small group of people and Rebeka, our teacher for the day.  She led us to the market where we bought all our ingredients for lunch.  One of our fellow students let a vegetable vender get a bit flirtatious with her and a cucumber.  

I just can't get over how fresh and perfect market food is in Paris.  I would buy fish and seafood like this every week.  

Once we got to the kitchen we started working straight away on a fennel and herb stuffing for our jambon cru wrapped lamb shoulder.  We threw fingerling potatoes around the roast and let it cook.  Then we made a gently seasoned cauliflower and Roquefort soup.  

We finished cooking and sat down to eat our lunch.  We had a really nice group of fellow cooks.  Some were younger, some were older.  They were French, Australian, and American.  After lunch we had cheese accompanied by a cheese appreciation course (which was unnecessary pour moi).  

After lunch Katy and I said our goodbyes and went straight to Le Bon Marche for a mini-shopping spree.  I actually held myself back from one dangerous purchase.  Katy says she doesn't see my restraint but I hope after this afternoon I proved to her that I am able to walk away from a lovely and lively floral print dress and keep my Mastercard firmly in my wallet.  

Tomorrow is our last day in Paris.  

Deyrolle

Last night Katy and I had dinner at Joel Robuchon's L'Atelier.  On the way we walked past the famous Deyrolle which sells all sorts of taxidermy.  A few years ago I bought a beautiful mounted moth for my father.  If you look closely, you can see the giraffe from the open window on the second floor.

Day Trip to Reims

Today Katy and I hopped on the TGV and went to Reims where all kings in France were coronated.  Straight off the train we strolled to the majestic cathedral and tried to remember all our art history classes on French gothic architecture.  Behind the altar Katy gasped and then squeaked out, "Is that Chagall?"  Before us were three Chagall stained glass windows with imagery connecting the New and Old Testament, the holy spirit, and Christ, all in an otherworldly, ancient blue.  I don't think I've ever stumbled upon anything so special.

We then took a taxi to Les Crayeres for a lovely lunch.

Le Cul de Poule (The Hen's Ass)

My brother, John, found this yummy little basque-gourmand restaurant in Pigalle last year that we all went to and loved.  Katy and I just returned tonight.  Katy started with spinach soup while I had smoked haddock with mashed sweet potatoes and dill.  Then we both had a 450g pork chop with polenta and leeks.  We washed it all down with an "assez fort" rhone.  Now we're back at our apartment finishing off last night's champagne and La Duree's macarons.  My favorite flavor so far is orange blossom.

Tomorrow we're off to Reims to sample as much champagne as we can and have lunch at Les Croyeres.

Breakfast

Katy and I made poached eggs on toast this morning.  The egg yolks tasted as sweet and mellow as green grass.  We had no butter so we just sprinkled some salt on top and it was perfect.  I'm also going nuts over summer strawberries and cherries.  

H'ors d'oeuvres

Katy and I had h'ors d'oeuvres at our apartment before dinner at Allard.  We bought a vintage champagne at le Bon Marche and three cheeses - brie, tete de moine, and chevre (the cheese monger told us this is the season when chevre is at its best) - and had all this with some duck rilletes and bread.

Our dinner at Allard was superb.  I had melon and jambon to start and Katy had a frisee salad with lardons.  We both followed with grilled turbot with beurre blanc.  Then for dessert we asked for sorbet.  What they presented was princess pink and tasted like bubblegum.  Quite disturbing.  Katy and I both just let it melt in it's little silver bowls and finished up our white burgundy.

Tomorrow we will pay a return visit to my brother's great find, the basque restaurant le Cul de Poule.  For lunch though we'll visit Katy's favorite falafel dive and do more shopping.  

Restaurant Drouant

Katy and I just had our first dinner in Paris at Drouant near Opera. The menu was a bit confusing at first but hors d'oeuvres were presented as a grouping of four tiny dishes of either legumes, fish, or meat. Katy chose the legumes and I chose the fish. I got fried marlin, sardines, tartare of dorado, and crab with avocado and fish jelly. Everything was fabulous. We drank it all down with a chablis. For our plat we both chose the pork belly which came with four side dishes that we shared: cream of spinach (with insanely thick cream), orzo, fennel puree, and homemade potato chips. We finished dinner off with ice cream and sorbet.


When I left to go to the bathroom our waiter, Andre, leaned over Katy and told her she was a sublime beauty. He was sad when we left. "You're leaving? Already? You're tired? You'll come back though, right?"

"I love Paris in the Springtime..."

I finally arrived in Paris after a chaotic transfer through Joburg. Why did I think it wouldn't be a big deal to travel during the World Cup?

I sat next to a French lady living in South Africa. We started chatting (Almost always a mistake. I hate chatting to strangers on an airplane.) and she asked me, "Why do you like Paris?" I was a bit flustered because I thought it was universally accepted that Paris is a lovely place to live or visit. I stammered on about food and wine not really knowing how to convince someone of an obvious fact. She delved into my past and came up with the idea that I am an artist and that is why I love Paris. I kept on telling her I was not, in fact, an artist but she wouldn't accept this. "You must do something artistic..." As if only artists could possibly love this place. But before we took off she sent a text message to a man named Roy and I spied a bit, sneaky-sneaky like. Suffice it to say they are going through a rough patch and this lady is feeling "drained" and "depleted" by Roy and doesn't know if she can continue seeing him. So perhaps her love-loss clouded her mind from any joy in returning to the land of plenty-of-fois-gras-and-croissants-and-beauty-everywhere.

I'm just waiting for Katy to arrive. I want to pick up some croissants and coffee for breakfast when she arrives.

Kuki's Pub

We enjoyed good German beer at Kuki's pub.

Dune 7

The climb was steep!

Climbing Dune 7

Swakopmunt photos

Swakopmunt, Namibia

Clara and I made a spontaneous decision to visit her friend Jena in Swakopmunt, Nambia this week where she is teaching in a local school as part of World Teach. We drove out on Saturday and arrived in time for a late dinner with Jena’s friends at Swakop’s new Chinese restaurant, Chez Wu.
On Sunday we had breakfast at Pane Fresco, a cozy Italian bakery run by Paola, a real Italian woman complete with a red dune buggy she keeps parked outside the shop. I had the yummiest croissant sandwich with salami, mozzarella, and sundried tomato spread, all of which she makes herself. Everyone else had Nutella croissants.
After breakfast we drove north along the Atlantic coast to Cape Cross to see one of the largest cape fur seal colonies in the world. The seals looked completely in their element in the rough, high waves. Along the way we passed by salt works and on the road there were low, unmanned tables with pink salt laid out and a little jar for money.
That night we ate dinner at Kuki’s Pub and it was only then that I realized we were actually in Germany. Germany colonized Namibia and their presence lives on today in such a strong way that it is difficult to describe. The architecture is German. There are no little huts in southern Namibia. Villages and cities are planned and laid out in an orderly fashion with wide sidewalks and a city center comprised of ‘blocks’. There are stop signs, traffic lights, and many signs for places of interest. Walking around Swakop, you’d be forgiven for thinking you’d suddenly landed in a small town in Europe.
On Monday we visited Paola again for more croissants and coffee. We spent a lazy morning wandering around town browsing books, visiting a stamp collecting shop, and other shopping. In the afternoon, after lunch, we drove south down the coast to Walvis Bay, a small harbor town, to book a boat cruise for Tuesday. Along the way we passed through Long Beach, where the famed Brangelina gave birth to Shiloh. We booked our cruise and then walked along the beach at low tide watching greater flamingos and gulls pecking for food. Around sunset we drove to Dune 7, a popular sand dune outside of Walvis Bay. It is very high, and very steep. We huffed and puffed, and crawled, and gasped out way to the top. By the time we got there it was dark and the first stars were coming out over the city lights. Alone at the top the three of us shared a bottle of wine (and a bottle of water) and chatted about the wonders of living in Africa.
On Tuesday we got up early and drove to Walvis Bay to get on our boat cruise. Our captain, Skipper Joe, started the morning off with “Namibian coffee” for everyone. I was less than impressed when I discovered he was just pouring shots of cheap sherry for everyone on the boat including himself. About ten minutes later though I found myself under a seal named Spotty with Skipper Joe wrapping my arms around his neck. Clara has photos. Clara was very worried about the ethics of feeding seals but decided it wasn’t that bad as the boat company has made friends with only five seals who were in trouble one way or another. Their tameness comes from natural curiosity and a friendly nature plus some fish. After we saw more than 50,000 seals it was time to find heavysides dolphins. Clara, Jena, and I lay belly down on the front of the boat reaching our hands down to touch the dolphins racing underneath us with the boat. The morning ended anchored in the milky green water of the harbor eating Namibian oysters and drinking sparkling wine and listening to Skipper Joe’s off color (yes, even to me!) jokes about Africans, Chinese, and women. That evening we had dinner at Driftwood with Hagan, Jena’s German friend teaching at her school. They had fresh tuna salad but I couldn’t resist a good pork schnitzel with parsley potatoes and draught beer. We were in Germany after all.
Clara and I said good-bye to Jena early on Wednesday and then had a long day of driving back to Maun. We loved the friendliness of all the Namibians we met. At the Botswana border our passports and resident permits were double checked and then checked again just to make sure. The customs officer grilled us. “You say you were visiting friends in Namibia?” Yes, just visiting friends. “You say you are Finnish?” No, we are Americans. “You say you are Americans?” Yes. “What do you have in your car?” Just clothes. He cupped his hands around his eyes and peered into the back of my car. I got a glare from him and his fellow officer furiously writing down all the information about my car and from our passports. Again. Another glare and a thrust of the chin and a surprising polite “tsamaya sentle” (“travel well”) and we were off, back in Botswana once again.

I'll post photos tomorrow. My internet connection is too slow right now to upload them all. I'm off to Paris on Saturday to meet up with Katy in Paris for a week.

The Flood

The river is steadily rising. My landlady came by yesterday to check it out. She's afraid my neighbor's house, who are her tenants as well, might flood, as the house is much lower than mine.

Lucy and Mopipi

I am very happy to announce that my former maid, Lucy, has returned to me through completely undevious means. She and Mopipi, my gardener, have neighboring farms across the river and have a very flirtatious and testy relationship. He stole her winter jacket and that caused a very tempestuous row for about a day and a half. She accused him of stealing. He accused her of lying. I was caught in the middle not really knowing my place in the whole thing and trying to broker peace. They finally came to the conclusion that "God knows what happened," and left it at that meaning God knows Lucy is a lier, and God knows Mopipi is a thief, and that one or the other will be severely punished in the afterlife. As soon as it erupted, it blew over, and even though the coat is still missing, everything is fine now.

Mopipi has taken to calling me his "mother." I dismissed it the first few times but after I bought him a gardener's uniform (the Batswana love few things more than a uniform, be it maid, gardener, nurse, or pilot, and they are cheap and well made here) he exclaimed, "You are my mother! You are my mother! You take care of me like a mother!" Now Mopipi is somewhere in his 50s or 60s. He's not sure. He is small, lean, and cheeky. I am 27. It makes me feel strange to have him call me "mother." I asked Lucy about this today and she laughed saying she doesn't know why he says it but when I pressed her she thought it was a token of respect. She says he likes me and it's meant to be respectful. I adore Mopipi endlessly but it's still jarring to be called "mother."

Crimson Breasted Shrike outside my porch