tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34774032371236149852024-03-19T03:28:11.081+00:00The Road less TravelledTravellerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13297726643673035333noreply@blogger.comBlogger212125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3477403237123614985.post-60058666867365813252011-09-12T21:28:00.000+01:002011-09-12T21:28:16.659+01:00Paris or bust.<a href="http://s809.photobucket.com/albums/zz15/gourmettraveller/Paris%20Ride/?action=view&current=P1040445.jpg" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" border="0" src="http://i809.photobucket.com/albums/zz15/gourmettraveller/Paris%20Ride/P1040445.jpg" width="100%" /></a>
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Cycling the 300 kilometres from London to Paris is generally a four to six day adventure. <i>Traveller </i>and her friends did it in <b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">two</span></b>. We left Saturday morning at 3:30am and arrived in Paris on Sunday afternoon - sweaty, hungry and beyond thirsty. It was a gruelling, dramatic and beautiful ride that brought an intense sense of achievement but also, unfortunately, had a rather upsetting ending.<br />
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The six of us woke early on the Saturday morning {<i>Traveller </i>had little sleep, too excited and nervous about the day's events} and cycled just under 100 kilometres to Newhaven port to catch the ferry to Dieppe, France. Riding very early in the morning on little sleep was an interesting concept but we managed to arrive in Newhaven before schedule and indulged in a bacon and egg sarnie before jumping on the ferry. The ferry was a four hour journey which was an excellent amount of time to sleep, eat and stretch before the riding the next 75 kilometres that were stretched out before us. One of the tremendously positive things about riding kilometre after kilometre is that you can eat pretty much whatever you want! <i>Traveller</i> ate almost every hour on the weekend and definitely didn't seem to put on any weight.<br />
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We arrived in Dieppe and were amazed by the change in weather - a mere crossing of the channel resulted in a temperature change of at least 10 degrees which was accompanied by glorious sunshine We rode on to Gournay-en-bray {where <i>T's </i>legs started to feel like led - particularly by the last two hills or so!}and we were pleased to shower, eat and laugh over the day's events.<br />
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We woke early (5am) the next morning and prepared to make the final 100+ kilometres to Paris. <i>Traveller</i> couldn't believe how fatigued her legs were and she started to wonder if she was going to be able to keep up. We were travelling at around 28 kilometres per hour! Eating an energy bar every hour helped and soon they only had 30 kilometres to go. This was where things went awry.<br />
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We were travelling down a very steep, long, windy hill when one member of our cycling group met a car head on. He was sitting by the side of the road as <i>Traveller </i>came down and parts of his bike and kit were scattered down the hill. He knew fairly quickly that it was serious and, being a physiotherapist, had diagnosed himself with a shattered knee-cap and a broken pelvis. Luckily for us, a tremendously helpful Frenchman arrived on the scene moments later and, acting as our translator, he spoke to the emergency services and the police on our behalf. He even drove a couple of bikes to the hospital and helped us communicate with the hospital staff. A true gem.<br />
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The next few hours were spent waiting anxiously at the hospital while our patient had x-rays and scans and we tried to make a series of plans, depending on a variety of outcomes. After about four hours, we were told to ride to Paris and were assured that he would probably make the trip, as they wanted him to be in London for any surgery. So, a little shaken, we cycled on.<br />
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We felt sad riding without a key member of our group (he had helped organise the ride) and the rest of the journey was a little bitter-sweet. However, on catching the first glimpse of the Eiffel Tower there was still a tremendous moment of pride at having achieved such a crazy goal and when we finally reached it, there were hugs and kisses as we celebrated 300 kilometres of adventure. We also <b>- stop reading mum and dad! - </b>cycled down the beautiful Champs-Elysées and around the ever-scary Arc de Triomph. Needless to say, we shared a glass of Moet {or beer in the boys' case} and the most expensive Croque Monsieur <i>Traveller </i>has ever bought {it was delicious though and very welcome after hours and hours of energy bars!}<br />
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Sadly, our friend didn't make the trip home and was instead lifted by a private jet two days later to a very fancy, private London hospital on the river Thames. He had diagnosed his injuries correctly (thereby being unable to travel by train) and is now in the midst of rehabilitation. He is very positive though and has amazed us all with his consistent, cheery disposition. <br />
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So, it wasn't quite the trip we imagined but will definitely be something that we remember for a very long time.<br />
<br />Travellerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13297726643673035333noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3477403237123614985.post-6168426122633425532011-09-04T00:51:00.000+01:002011-09-04T00:54:25.249+01:00Father.<a href="http://s809.photobucket.com/albums/zz15/gourmettraveller/?action=view&current=P1040320.jpg" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" src="http://i809.photobucket.com/albums/zz15/gourmettraveller/P1040320.jpg" width="100%border="0"" /></a> <i>Traveller </i>is a lucky girl to have a father like you. The love, support and understanding you have given her is cherished beyond words. <i>T </i>has found tremendous comfort, especially in the last year, in knowing that you {and mum} love her no matter what. December is too far away; may the months speed by!<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Happy Father's Day, Dad!</span> </div>
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I love you a billion; please take good care of yourself.</div>
Travellerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13297726643673035333noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3477403237123614985.post-21099284319834749652011-09-01T22:12:00.000+01:002011-09-01T22:16:02.972+01:00Hills are the enemy.<a href="http://s809.photobucket.com/albums/zz15/gourmettraveller/Paris%20Ride/?action=view&current=IMG_0175.jpg" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" border="0" src="http://i809.photobucket.com/albums/zz15/gourmettraveller/Paris%20Ride/IMG_0175.jpg" width="100%" /></a>
<i>Traveller's </i>exercising regime has evolved exponentially since arriving in London. Upon reaching these sunny shores, in an attempt to battle the <i><a href="http://thegourmettraveller.blogspot.com/2008/03/heathrow-injection.html">Heathrow Injection</a>, T </i>took up running. It was a slow process to begin with; she was quite unfit and could only run a couple of laps of the local running track. Then she started on the slippery slope of entering competitions: first a 5k, then a few <a href="http://thegourmettraveller.blogspot.com/2009/09/traveller-on-run.html">10ks</a>, then a couple of <a href="http://thegourmettraveller.blogspot.com/2010/10/hardest-part.html">half-marathons</a>, until finally she found a sport that required an even more ridiculous level of fitness - the triathlon. As she writes, <i>T </i>has only completed one <a href="http://thegourmettraveller.blogspot.com/2011/02/tri-hard.html">sprint (mini) triathlon</a> and is currently <a href="http://thegourmettraveller.blogspot.com/2011/08/swimming-in-med.html">training</a> for a 3/4 event which will happen in a couple of weeks. <br />
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Between the two triathlons, <i>Traveller</i> was preparing for something even more insane...<br />
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It all began one beautiful, sunny day in <a href="http://thegourmettraveller.blogspot.com/search/label/majorca">Majorca, Spain</a>; RF's husband and another friend hatched the mad plan to ride from London to Paris. Now, before <i>T </i>continues, RF's husband must be explained: he is one of those peculiar breeds of human that loves to exercise; he rarely goes a day without it and is only really happy when he's pushing through some kind of pain barrier (Exhibit A: he rode through the Pyrenees while <i>T</i> whisked his wife off to the <a href="http://thegourmettraveller.blogspot.com/search/label/Greece">Greek Islands</a>) He has been a sort-of-coach to <i>T</i> and RF throughout the last few years, always telling us to 'harden up' and to <b>get moving</b> (we have a habit of talking too much while we exercise!). So, with that in mind, you can understand that the trip to Paris would not be a luxurious, relaxing week long adventure stopping in local towns and sampling French wine and food along the way. It was going to be a <i>hell for leather </i>two day sprint where they would eat on the bike and stop over just once for a sleep, a shower and a nice big dinner.<br />
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Without really understanding the sheer extremity of the task before her, <i>T</i>, very enthusiastically, asked to join in. This resulted in a serious discussion where she was told that she could do it if she trained really hard and where she was promised that she would be left behind if she couldn't keep up. <i>Traveller</i> agreed to these dramatic conditions (still not really understanding) and commenced training.<br />
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So, back in May, <i>T </i>was given a training schedule which included four sessions of cycling a week: a one hour paced ride, an interval session, a hills session and a long ride which grew gradually from seventy kilometres to one-hundred and twenty kilometres. It all seemed possible, except <i>T</i> grew very busy at school, started to get sick and missed a few sessions. Quite a few sessions. Then, in July, they had a practice ride to Brighton; a 100k ride from London which involved quite a few hideous looking hills and let's just say, <i>T </i>did not do so well. She even had to walk up one hill. For shame! She was then told that she could still come to Paris, but she had a lot of work to do. Her schedule grew from 4 sessions a week to 6 sessions a week and totalled 400K+ of riding which translates into<b> hours and hours</b> of pedalling! Luckily, she was on school holidays!<br />
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Without expanding too much on the grim hours of painful, solo pedalling that ensued, <i>T</i> is happy to report that she did complete the training schedule and reached the level required for the Paris ride! She was, of course, nervous but felt proud that she had managed to improve her fitness so quickly.<br />
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Next up was the ride itself which did not go quite to plan...<br />
<br />Travellerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13297726643673035333noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3477403237123614985.post-84582688087606827842011-08-26T21:36:00.010+01:002011-08-27T22:56:40.572+01:00Awkward holiday moments.<a href="http://s809.photobucket.com/albums/zz15/gourmettraveller/Greece/?action=view&current=P1020886.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://i809.photobucket.com/albums/zz15/gourmettraveller/Greece/P1020886.jpg" width="100%border="0"" alt="Photobucket" /></a>
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<br />When <i>T</i> and RF initially decided that they wanted to holiday together, they had a few simple but concrete requirements: sun, surf and good food. <div>
<br /></div><div>We tossed around a few ideas, but were left with two high on the list: Greece and Sardinia. Both were sunny, both were defined by their beautiful clear water and both were synonymous with delicious food. If we were to go to Greece, we wanted to sail around the islands and RF (having been to Greece before) wanted to steer clear of the more touristy spots. Eventually, Greek sailing won and RF found a company that sailed around the Dodecanese Islands where we could learn to sail and visit a different island each day. It was exactly what we wanted. <div>
<br /></div><div>We were very fortunate with our pick - we shared the sailing boat with one other young couple, the skipper and the cook. Everyone was very easy going so we were able to dictate what we wanted to do to a certain extent and, as a result, we were able to swim as much as we wanted in some of the most beautiful bays in the world.</div><div>
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<br /></div><div>One slight hiccup occurred through the booking and it's probably something that <i>T</i> should have reiterated whilst sending in her details. You see, <i>T</i>'s Christian name is androgynous and it is always assumed that she is, in fact, a he. So, instead of facing the initial interesting experience of rooming with a good friend in a tiny yacht's room for a week, they then faced the reality of sharing a room that could be likened to a honeymoon suite with a bed that was more single than double. In the heat of summer. In the heat of the <i>Greek </i>summer. In the stuffy cabin air of a yacht. For a <i>week. </i></div><div>
<br /></div><div>It was 40 degrees in there, people! </div><div>
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<br /></div><div>Luckily for <i>T, </i>she can sleep pretty much anywhere. She is small and can sleep in noise, in heat and in all modes of transport - even rocking boats. Unfortunately for RF, she does not have this ease of sleeping and she also (gulp) had to put up with <i>T's very ladylike</i> snoring. Needless to say, she spent most of the week sleeping on deck whilst <i>T</i> snored happily away below. Now friendships have been ruined over much les<i>s, </i>but <i>T </i>is happy to report that she and RF are still fast friends. </div><div>
<br /></div><div>One of <i>T's </i>most favourite memories from the trip was when RF attempted to sleep downstairs during a particularly hot night and <i>T, </i>as an olive branch of sorts, made them both ice-packs to cradle in the desperate pursuit of cooling down. Needless to say the ice melted everywhere and <i>T </i>and RF were almost delirious with heat and spent the best part of an hour giggling about everything around them, including the very noisy young couple who were saying their every thought so loudly that the whole boat was privy to their private {and somewhat, inane} conversation. <i>T </i>remembers haircuts and styles being discussed for at least ten minutes.</div><div>
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<br /></div><div>So, the good part of the story is that <i>T</i> truly lucked out. She has a travelling friend who enjoys the same things that she does {food, sun, wine and swimming} and with whom she can have a good laugh (and without gushing, she is also lovely, generous and wise beyond her years!). </div><div>
<br /></div><div>Also, said travelling partner has kick-ass photography skills which you can see as all the photos today are taken from her camera. </div><div>
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<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Cheers, RF, for a most memorable trip!</div><div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >The above photographs are taken from <i>T's </i>favourite islands - Chalki, Symi and Rhodes.</span></div></div>Travellerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13297726643673035333noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3477403237123614985.post-52446772725017241792011-08-24T10:50:00.003+01:002011-08-24T11:33:08.241+01:00Swimming in the Med.<a href="http://s809.photobucket.com/albums/zz15/gourmettraveller/Greece/?action=view&current=plankCustom.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://i809.photobucket.com/albums/zz15/gourmettraveller/Greece/plankCustom.jpg" width="100%" border="0" alt="Photobucket" /></a>
<br />One of the most wonderful things about sailing around the Greek Islands was the opportunity to swim in many beautiful bays along the way. The landscape was always stunning; sometimes it was stark and barren and at other times it was green and verdant. The water, however, was always reliable with clear colours of turquoise and azure and a perfect temperature. The most breathtaking part was the visibility - at one time we were in a bay where the depth was thirty metres and we could see right to the bottom.<div><a href="http://s809.photobucket.com/albums/zz15/gourmettraveller/Greece/?action=view&current=waterLarge.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://i809.photobucket.com/albums/zz15/gourmettraveller/Greece/waterLarge.jpg" width="100%border="0"" alt="Photobucket" /></a>
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<br /><i>Traveller </i>and RF are still in training; this time training for a 3/4 triathlon which starts with an ocean swim in freezing Cornwall. They used their time in the bays to explore and then to complete some swimming training, goggles and all. The salt levels in the Mediterranean make you unbelievably buoyant; there is no struggle to float and you feel like an Olympic swimmer with each stroke. We swam around 2-4 kilometres each day and barely broke a sweat; it was the most satisfying swimming that <i>T </i>has ever completed and was hands down the most beautiful group of islands <i>T </i>has ever visited.It's going to be hard getting back in chlorine-filled, pool water!</div><div><a href="http://s809.photobucket.com/albums/zz15/gourmettraveller/Greece/?action=view&current=P1020903.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://i809.photobucket.com/albums/zz15/gourmettraveller/Greece/P1020903.jpg" width="100%" border="0" alt="Photobucket" /></a>
<br /></div>Travellerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13297726643673035333noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3477403237123614985.post-68260903260357872572011-08-19T08:00:00.004+01:002011-08-19T08:25:45.896+01:00It's the people...<a href="http://s809.photobucket.com/albums/zz15/gourmettraveller/Greece/?action=view&current=pomegrantetreeLarge.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://i809.photobucket.com/albums/zz15/gourmettraveller/Greece/pomegrantetreeLarge.jpg" width="100%border="0"" alt="Photobucket" /></a>
<br /><div style="text-align: left;">A couple of <i>Traveller's </i>favourite moments in Greece involved meeting the locals. The people in Greece were so friendly.<i> T's</i> not sure whether it's the sheer amount of people in London or just the way culture has developed, but they don't tend to talk to each other or look at each other in public. There are no smiles, no waves and no small conversation so it was surprising to <i>Traveller </i>when people started to talk to her in Greece.</div><a href="http://s809.photobucket.com/albums/zz15/gourmettraveller/Greece/?action=view&current=figmanLarge.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://i809.photobucket.com/albums/zz15/gourmettraveller/Greece/figmanLarge.jpg" width="100%" border="0" alt="Photobucket" /></a>
<br /><div style="text-align: left;">One example of this was when the above gentleman noticed <i>T </i>and her friend looking at a fruit tree. We couldn't work out what fruit was growing on the tree and he came up to us and asked us if we knew what it was. When we responded that we didn't, he proceeded to tell us the Greek name for it. Still noticing that we were confused, he took a piece of fruit off the tree and using his pocket knife, opened it up for us. We immediately saw that it was a pomegranate and he was so pleased to see us recognise it. We then had a chat with him and he told us a little about himself and where to eat in the beautiful town of Chalki. We followed his advice and <i>T </i>had her first delicious Moussaka of the trip.</div><a href="http://s809.photobucket.com/albums/zz15/gourmettraveller/Greece/?action=view&current=taxidriverfigLarge.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://i809.photobucket.com/albums/zz15/gourmettraveller/Greece/taxidriverfigLarge.jpg" width="100%" border="0" alt="Photobucket" /></a>
<br />The second moment was on the island of Kalymnos; <i>Traveller </i>and RF wanted to head out to the local beach. As they both had never driven scooters before, they were reliant on local taxis and buses. They asked a taxi driver how much it would cost to get to the local beach and when he said 10 Euro - we were in! It was a half an hour drive and the taxi driver told us the history of Kalymnos while we were in the car and about the local industry; he also took us to an outlook so we could take a picture and stopped at a fig tree (above - how cool is he!) so that we could try the wild fruit. It was delicious! He was so sweet and really made our day. Travellerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13297726643673035333noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3477403237123614985.post-88661325026428787652011-08-16T16:03:00.005+01:002011-08-17T08:46:06.634+01:00Greece.<a href="http://s809.photobucket.com/albums/zz15/gourmettraveller/Greece/?action=view&current=greekdoorwayLarge.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://i809.photobucket.com/albums/zz15/gourmettraveller/Greece/greekdoorwayLarge.jpg" width="100%border="0"" alt="Photobucket" /></a>
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<br /><div style="text-align: center;">Needless to say, Greece lived up to its expectations without question. </div><div>
<br /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;">The islands were picturesque, the food was delicious, the temperatures were reaching 40 degrees Celsius (but mostly manageable!) and the water was extraordinary. Never has <i>Traveller</i> floated so easily (got to love all the salt in the Mediterranean) and seen so far to the bottom. We docked in one bay around the island of Symi and it was thirty metres deep - unbelievably, we could see all the way to the bottom. </div>
<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><i>T </i>had a lovely travelling partner and couldn't have hoped for a more wonderful trip.</div><div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">It's a little hard to be in grey, chilly London with only a tan as evidence that somewhere it is summer...</div> <a href="http://s809.photobucket.com/albums/zz15/gourmettraveller/Greece/?action=view&current=symiboatCustom.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://i809.photobucket.com/albums/zz15/gourmettraveller/Greece/symiboatCustom.jpg" width="100%border="0"" alt="Photobucket" /></a>
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<br /></div>Travellerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13297726643673035333noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3477403237123614985.post-51869080654075760972011-07-29T18:38:00.002+01:002011-07-29T18:57:17.406+01:00Travel Bug.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl6XAF7rvXcj9kXlKv-2mK_HS1U0o5CAJjudtntZVpOEm9dQEZIRBObJgOLLFsa9uLQ_Ek_mI3cmvOEK-kMcPNhqoE5Lc27R8lnhnfhOHocrBtxAOrdZyDDUcfiR8z52zsZ_jQ0eAAV1k/s1600/greece.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl6XAF7rvXcj9kXlKv-2mK_HS1U0o5CAJjudtntZVpOEm9dQEZIRBObJgOLLFsa9uLQ_Ek_mI3cmvOEK-kMcPNhqoE5Lc27R8lnhnfhOHocrBtxAOrdZyDDUcfiR8z52zsZ_jQ0eAAV1k/s400/greece.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5634830670962628754" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Traveller's </i>first overseas trip was when she was 13.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Her dad sent her mum and her to California to visit Disneyland and L.A. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>T </i>loved it. </div><div style="text-align: center;">She loved the different accents, the different foods and the way that you could be on a plane for a few hours and end up somewhere so completely new and unusual.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">A few years later, <i>Traveller </i>went back to North America and lived in Oregon for a year as an exchange student. It was one of the best years of her life and gave her a deep-seeded, irrevocable need to travel. Since then, she has visited many continents and countries and the need has grown rather than diminished. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">There has been one country that has been on her 'list' for years. In fact, it has been on the<b> top</b> of her list. <i>Traveller </i>can't remember when or why it was added but she knows that since her late teens she has always imagined her visit there as being perfection and well, it's going to happen tomorrow!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Traveller </i>is flying to <b><span class="Apple-style-span" >Greece</span> </b>tomorrow to sail around the Docadenese Islands for a week with a dear friend and she can.not.wait! Learning to sail, eating seafood, swimming in the sea and taking in the beautiful landscape are all things that are high on her to-do-list and <i>T </i>does not know how she is going to sleep tonight! </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">The only worrying thing is being able to survive the high temperatures; <i>Traveller </i>is, of course, a weather-hardened Aussie, but London has weakened her ability to handle the sun and with temperatures in Britain never really rising above the early twenties, <i>T </i>is a little overwhelmed at the thought of being in the high 30s without air-conditioning! Oh well, at least she'll be on a boat and clear azure water will be around her for days and days. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Sounds tough, doesn't it? </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><i><a href="http://weheartit.com/entry/12512406">{image}</a></i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>Travellerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13297726643673035333noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3477403237123614985.post-70986264431368244892011-07-28T21:16:00.002+01:002011-07-28T21:31:25.057+01:00Cupcake.<a href="http://s809.photobucket.com/albums/zz15/gourmettraveller/?action=view&current=IMG_4567Large.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://i809.photobucket.com/albums/zz15/gourmettraveller/IMG_4567Large.jpg" width="100%border="0"" alt="Photobucket" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">It was one of <i>T's </i>friend's birthdays this week so she decided to make her some pretty cupcakes using this<a href="http://www.olivia-rae.com/2011/07/flourless-chocolate-cake.html"> recipe</a>, with a few adjustments.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>T </i>infused the chocolate butter-cream icing with rose and the sweet taste made the dense, rich chocolate cake even more delicious.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">It is with much self-control that <i>T </i>is ignoring the leftovers as they sing her name from the fridge.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>Travellerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13297726643673035333noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3477403237123614985.post-51693364011599210942011-06-25T19:39:00.003+01:002011-06-25T20:17:05.930+01:00Hard Day's Work.<a href="http://s809.photobucket.com/albums/zz15/gourmettraveller/Adventure%20Trip/?action=view&current=DSC_6832-1.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://i809.photobucket.com/albums/zz15/gourmettraveller/Adventure%20Trip/DSC_6832-1.jpg" width="100%" border="0" alt="Photobucket" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Teaching, marking, writing reports... <i>or</i> white water rafting in Italy?</div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Don't have to ask <i>T</i> twice!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">This was the boys' favourite activity and it was pretty high on the list for <i>T </i>as well. The rapids were fun and frequent but not too scary and the weather and location were pretty perfect.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://s809.photobucket.com/albums/zz15/gourmettraveller/Adventure%20Trip/?action=view&current=DSC_6762.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://i809.photobucket.com/albums/zz15/gourmettraveller/Adventure%20Trip/DSC_6762.jpg" width="100%border="0"" alt="Photobucket" /></a><br /><br /><br /><a href="http://s809.photobucket.com/albums/zz15/gourmettraveller/Adventure%20Trip/?action=view&current=DSC_6717.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://i809.photobucket.com/albums/zz15/gourmettraveller/Adventure%20Trip/DSC_6717.jpg" width="100%border="0"" alt="Photobucket" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://s809.photobucket.com/albums/zz15/gourmettraveller/Adventure%20Trip/?action=view&current=DSC_6715.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://i809.photobucket.com/albums/zz15/gourmettraveller/Adventure%20Trip/DSC_6715.jpg" width="100%border="0"" alt="Photobucket" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://s809.photobucket.com/albums/zz15/gourmettraveller/Adventure%20Trip/?action=view&current=DSC_6738.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://i809.photobucket.com/albums/zz15/gourmettraveller/Adventure%20Trip/DSC_6738.jpg" width="100%" border="0" alt="Photobucket" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://s809.photobucket.com/albums/zz15/gourmettraveller/Adventure%20Trip/?action=view&current=DSC_6747-1.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://i809.photobucket.com/albums/zz15/gourmettraveller/Adventure%20Trip/DSC_6747-1.jpg" width="100%border="0"" alt="Photobucket" /></a><br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Funniest part?</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">We rafted the whole day with two hours in between for lunch and the boys were instructed to drink about a litre of water over lunch to make sure they were hydrated. Before they were suited up again, <i>T </i>warned them all to visit the bathroom. Half an hour later, <i>T </i>was faced by a panicking boy and the following conversation:</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Miss, Miss, please help me take off my life-jacket, I need to go to the toilet.</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><b>Sure, sure; you know, I did tell you boys to go before...</b></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><b><br /></b></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>I did! I need to go again!</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>{both T and boy are working quickly to release him from the sticky, wet jacket}</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Oh no, Miss! I'm going to go....I can't hold it! It's happening!</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: center;">Needless to say, the poor kid didn't live that down for the entire trip.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>Travellerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13297726643673035333noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3477403237123614985.post-23449737640755665652011-06-20T21:34:00.005+01:002011-06-20T21:53:07.429+01:00Pizza love.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU9dufeuy2zRcHvR0yu4qTxxnFsgT_lFOlI_VvXp4rtHl9Hbx9eN2Jhm7jpWvThT_PeuNxVTpR-D7QwuT0LIgI80oFnrXj1DyGs_9JTeMlu4Y9AOcT1M_4E4hNFLxuLjZhSPf1yeBsTzA/s1600/pizza.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU9dufeuy2zRcHvR0yu4qTxxnFsgT_lFOlI_VvXp4rtHl9Hbx9eN2Jhm7jpWvThT_PeuNxVTpR-D7QwuT0LIgI80oFnrXj1DyGs_9JTeMlu4Y9AOcT1M_4E4hNFLxuLjZhSPf1yeBsTzA/s400/pizza.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5620403768153601746" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>T's </i>back from her <a href="http://thegourmettraveller.blogspot.com/2011/06/adventure.html">adventure.</a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Best. School. Trip. Ever.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">The evidence speaks for itself; here's a photograph from their night out in the Italian Alps at a local pizzeria. They were in a teeny town called Villeneuve where little English was spoken and the pizzas cost around four euro. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Besides food, the adventure had it all - sunshine, hot temperatures and the beautiful backdrops of the Italian Alps and the south of France.</div><div style="text-align: center;"> </div>Travellerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13297726643673035333noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3477403237123614985.post-78010071805033187102011-06-10T13:16:00.003+01:002011-06-10T13:31:05.231+01:00Adventure.<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFIBMtdj94Tq-jf4iACULUgqbmsYltNn7zUt3EV4nPPm4aPxMHPnQ-_EvipUG1WOzq74KkCEEJjXSO4R9vSxaA45MnPhsXfK2KbHqoNRovCdZDy2AgiltDbv1ibPCC5SwLwq2bejDYKI0/s1600/tumblr_lkm9ilQqrv1qe20l6o1_500_large.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 270px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5616564875586487282" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFIBMtdj94Tq-jf4iACULUgqbmsYltNn7zUt3EV4nPPm4aPxMHPnQ-_EvipUG1WOzq74KkCEEJjXSO4R9vSxaA45MnPhsXfK2KbHqoNRovCdZDy2AgiltDbv1ibPCC5SwLwq2bejDYKI0/s400/tumblr_lkm9ilQqrv1qe20l6o1_500_large.jpg" /></a> Today, <em>Traveller </em>is heading off on another overseas adventure - this time on a school trip!</div><br /><div align="center"></div><br /><div align="center">This is quite possibly the biggest perk that <em>T </em>has experienced from her time teaching in England. <em>T, </em>along with the games teacher and organiser, is taking her Prep Eight boys to Italy and France on an adventure trip! </div><br /><div align="center"></div><br /><div align="center">They will first stop in Villeneuve in Italy to mountain climb, go white-water rafting and abseil (among other things) and then they are heading to the Ardeche, in the south of France to complete a 2-day descent in canoes! </div><br /><div align="center"></div><br /><div align="center"><em>T, </em>while a little nervous at the prospect of being around 13-year-old boys for over a week, is quite excited!<br /></div><br /><div align="center">She may be able to blog on the road at some stage but if not, there'll be plenty of stories and pictures upon her return. </div><br /><div align="center"></div><br /><div align="center"><em><span style="font-size:78%;"><a href="http://weheartit.com/entry/9954972">{image}</a></span></em></div><br /><div align="center"></div><br /><div align="center"></div>Travellerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13297726643673035333noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3477403237123614985.post-35056761871736878152011-06-09T20:41:00.006+01:002011-06-09T22:25:25.449+01:0030.<a href="http://s809.photobucket.com/albums/zz15/gourmettraveller/Majorca/?action=view&current=P10204971.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://i809.photobucket.com/albums/zz15/gourmettraveller/Majorca/P10204971.jpg" width="100%" border="0" alt="Photobucket" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;">The age 30 is quite a milestone.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">For some, it can be an age that comes exactly as they have all their so-called ducks in a row.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">For others, it can be a flashing beacon highlighting all the ducks that aren't in a row... or anywhere near a row, for that matter.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">For <i>Traveller, </i>it was a very good excuse to get together her lovely London friends and enjoy a weekend in sunny Spain. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Last weekend, <i>T</i> and a few friends headed to Majorca (in the Balearic islands) for four nights of sun, surf and yummy Mediterranean food. <i>T </i>and RF spent many hours trying to find the best possible spot in Majorca and<i> </i>together they found a villa in Cala Santanyi which was beyond perfect and close to many beautiful, sometimes secluded, beaches.</div><center><br /><a href="http://s809.photobucket.com/albums/zz15/gourmettraveller/Majorca/?action=view&current=IMG_4453.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://i809.photobucket.com/albums/zz15/gourmettraveller/Majorca/IMG_4453.jpg" width="100%border="0"" alt="Photobucket" /></a><br /></center><center><br /></center><center><br /><a href="http://s809.photobucket.com/albums/zz15/gourmettraveller/Majorca/?action=view&current=P1020579.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://i809.photobucket.com/albums/zz15/gourmettraveller/Majorca/P1020579.jpg" width="100%border="0"" alt="Photobucket" /></a><br /><br /></center><center>One of the best moments was when they saw the villa for the first time and spent quite a few minutes jumping around, ecstatic at how pretty it was (it even had a pool which lit up at night!).</center><center><br /><a href="http://s809.photobucket.com/albums/zz15/gourmettraveller/Majorca/?action=view&current=markets.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://i809.photobucket.com/albums/zz15/gourmettraveller/Majorca/markets.jpg" width="100%border="0"" alt="Photobucket" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://s809.photobucket.com/albums/zz15/gourmettraveller/Majorca/?action=view&current=IMG_4416.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://i809.photobucket.com/albums/zz15/gourmettraveller/Majorca/IMG_4416.jpg" width="100%border="0"" alt="Photobucket" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://s809.photobucket.com/albums/zz15/gourmettraveller/Majorca/?action=view&current=IMG_4489.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://i809.photobucket.com/albums/zz15/gourmettraveller/Majorca/IMG_4489.jpg" width="100%border="0"" alt="Photobucket" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://s809.photobucket.com/albums/zz15/gourmettraveller/Majorca/?action=view&current=IMG_4483.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://i809.photobucket.com/albums/zz15/gourmettraveller/Majorca/IMG_4483.jpg" width="100%border="0"" alt="Photobucket" /></a><br /><br /></center><center>Another was the amazing fresh produce we found at the local farmers' markets - there was an endless supply of fresh fruit, vegetables and cheese. </center><center><br /><br /><a href="http://s809.photobucket.com/albums/zz15/gourmettraveller/Majorca/?action=view&current=IMG_4466.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://i809.photobucket.com/albums/zz15/gourmettraveller/Majorca/IMG_4466.jpg" width="100%border="0"" alt="Photobucket" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://s809.photobucket.com/albums/zz15/gourmettraveller/Majorca/?action=view&current=IMG_4425.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://i809.photobucket.com/albums/zz15/gourmettraveller/Majorca/IMG_4425.jpg" width="100%border="0"" alt="Photobucket" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://s809.photobucket.com/albums/zz15/gourmettraveller/Majorca/?action=view&current=IMG_2553w.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://i809.photobucket.com/albums/zz15/gourmettraveller/Majorca/IMG_2553w.jpg" width="100%border="0"" alt="Photobucket" /><br /><br /></a><a href="http://s809.photobucket.com/albums/zz15/gourmettraveller/Majorca/?action=view&current=P10205011.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://i809.photobucket.com/albums/zz15/gourmettraveller/Majorca/P10205011.jpg" width="100%border="0"" alt="Photobucket" /></a><br /><br /></center><center>The beaches were, needless to say, phenomenal. </center><center><br /></center><center><i>Traveller </i>and her friends spent the majority of their time swimming and laying by the beautiful beaches.</center><center><br /><br /><a href="http://s809.photobucket.com/albums/zz15/gourmettraveller/Majorca/?action=view&current=P1020595.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://i809.photobucket.com/albums/zz15/gourmettraveller/Majorca/P1020595.jpg" width="100%border="0"" alt="Photobucket" /></a><br /><br /><b>The most memorable moment? </b></center><center><br /></center><center>A late night game of Marco Polo and Battleships and Submarines in the pool - fully clothed.</center><center><br /><br /></center><center>If the weekend in Majorca is any indication - 30 is going to be the best decade yet!</center>Travellerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13297726643673035333noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3477403237123614985.post-87244857617203709472011-06-03T09:13:00.010+01:002011-06-08T22:50:10.957+01:00AWOL<div style="text-align: center;">You know you haven't blogged in a while when you panic slightly at being asked for a password by blogger!</div><div><br /></div><div>It has been <i>months </i> since <i>Traveller </i>has blogged and, while she's had her reasons, she's back now to document a few of the fun things that have happened and has plans to stay...</div><div><br /></div><div>1. <b><i>Traveller </i>miraculously completed her first sprint-triathlon.</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGXHW829tFQftx15k_puJ4exyTXxj8S3LtAQSG3V8msvYYQWxIm-aTvVqIUKCER7AJC7wOH3xtg86LCTOywz21yOwlzRclBLq4SIDuk6ysBLHLxiouuuvEcpQJWBT74X4RsTUP1e0x_HQ/s400/Jaime+7.JPG" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 314px; height: 235px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5613905135983753602" /></div></div><div><i>Traveller </i>has never been so nervous before a race; she was worried about crashing, about getting a flat tyre, about running out of energy and even about the nasty hill that she had to cycle up 9 times. All that worry was for nothing though - <i>T </i>loved doing the sprint and, while it was hard work, it was strangely addictive. There are plans in the making for a second - this time in open water!</div><div><br /></div><div>2. <b>T's brother came to London!</b></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqAPXwNHmgWsiVP6TTHYM5M1GDmpIL-OxEo5M2nxh5XFEl3jGNM1l1TYAnnLeFIxOxU93b78lvtGsPVvyTtduA6jzKmGDIgNw1V3XOvaZ84et9MITejkmpbMeqQTE-2AEkVTR0kS4urTQ/s400/IMG_4308+%2528Large%2529.JPG" /></div><div><br /></div><div><i>Traveller's </i>brother from OZ visited London and for the first time since they can remember, <i>T</i>and her two brothers (one already lives in London) spent time together. They visited museums, ate lots of food, toured London and <i>T </i>was even taken to see Keira Knightley and Elizabeth Moss in 'The Children's Hour'. <i>T </i>had the best time!</div><div><br /></div><div><b>3. The Royal Wedding </b></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxktm3G8Oai2aDT3ab2DybGC2eE2fHYamaHNmsZb0AunGx_BZTDl7ri6pfFn7ZvkUu1Zi78lYHZZGfEwNKTgIDnQVuq7XP7If2KsnxcyUSAOxBJsJT5qa1kgZYsHjayyOpVi9C0RFpljY/s400/IMG_4325.JPG" /></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8-RQg8UQ3pePizXPT6HZm4WdnWduVKywADokJivHVbdVAWldNhBtpnm4aRMKvVna7fLbxS5Y3dgK6XFJ8M5gF6h-0nDTaA0ONPGxRkGF-Oc176VwinbKhrhgvJ7esfd_B2t91wjZBrUA/s400/IMG_4344.JPG" /></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i>Traveller </i>was able to experience her first royal wedding in London and joined the crowd of millions to cheer on Wills and Kate as they said, 'I do'. <i>Traveller </i>woke up very early and made her way to Hyde Park for 7am to secure a big space for her and some friends. The atmosphere was phenomenal and sitting in Hyde Park cheering on the royal family and singing along to the wedding songs with so many others is one of <i>Traveller's </i>most treasured memories from London town. <i>Traveller's </i>favourite part of the day was when a live band started up in Hyde Park and <i>the whole crowd </i>started dancing. </div><div><br /></div><div>4. <i>Traveller</i> turned the big 3-0 (eek!)</div><div> </div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKn6ktfXrtb8hP8Yr3_gk4rysUXHqNMIGYlQqvGpzjG7uR4CeEwV-rOgF9ogcl4CUgLeV322XlE7pDB9220DKk4WXrrlfRYxPqwsUGbXeRGHc8HM9Rp67lQNU0ulSf8wljFAm99ha8i-M/s400/IMG_4398.JPG" /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">The celebrations lasting all month long! There was a dinner, a trip to the theatre to see 'Clybourne Park' (perhaps one of the best plays she has ever seen), a viewing of the stage musical 'Dirty Dancing' (so so much fun!) and a trip to Majorca (more on that to come!) It was the best birthday ever and <i>Traveller </i>feels beyond lucky to have such lovely friends.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>Travellerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13297726643673035333noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3477403237123614985.post-82976098325833546632011-03-07T19:36:00.005+00:002011-03-07T20:14:38.435+00:00Practice makes perfect?<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp1r-CTiT5oJBzU6CHCKj1qf1UqETO8jdnQzm79yqB6C81tqgljry3bmZ5l7FK0XBvXiPduhCwB2CivkRuthAm9BBdIGmDTC14AZWvm9MbvKSHcpv50Lcsl2JfoetzigeWg6afy67eewQ/s1600/fire.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581432392932162658" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 266px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp1r-CTiT5oJBzU6CHCKj1qf1UqETO8jdnQzm79yqB6C81tqgljry3bmZ5l7FK0XBvXiPduhCwB2CivkRuthAm9BBdIGmDTC14AZWvm9MbvKSHcpv50Lcsl2JfoetzigeWg6afy67eewQ/s400/fire.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="center">Today, <em>Traveller </em>was involved in her very first genuine fire evacuation.</div><br /><div align="center">After over 20 years of being 'at school', <em>T </em>has participated in her fair share of fire drills. </div><br /><div align="center">She remembers being in primary school, in her green chequered uniform with a big green sunhat, wishing that she could go inside because the sun was hot and the concrete was hard. Not too many years after that, she remembers laying in the sun on her high school oval praying that it was a real fire so she could skip class for the rest of the day. </div><br /><div align="center">Now, being a teacher, fire drills are a little different. In England, she usually dreads them. Firstly, it is freezing outside. And secondly, it usually happens during an important test or one of those rare 'spare' lessons. </div><br /><div align="center">Today, <em>Traveller </em>learnt that like running drills for a half-marathon can't prepare you for the gruelling race, fire drills don't quite prepare you for an actual fire.</div><br /><div align="center">Firstly, the cooks left the ovens on and the beetroot boiling.</div><em>Seriously.</em></div><br /><div align="center"><em></em></div><div align="center"><div align="center">Secondly, as fire drills never happen during that sacred time known as lunch, <em>Traveller</em> wasn't quite sure what to do. She was halfway through making a ham baguette and deliberated, 'Take it? Leave it?' and since she had never actually 'waited out' a fire before, she made the rookie mistake of leaving her precious morsels of food behind. After that brief moment, food became a most precious commodity that no-one seemed to have. <em>Traveller</em> will never forget the incredulous look on the boys' faces as they pondered leaving their plate of chicken curry and evacuating the building. </div><br /><div align="center"><em>T </em>knows how they felt.</div><br /><div align="center">Cut to four hours later, <em>Traveller </em>was sitting in a park, freezing (for there was no time to collect her coat) and famished, with nary a sandwich in sight.</div><br /><div align="center">The good news? No one was hurt. No school buildings were damaged. The kitchen didn't burn down. The children eventually received crisps and kitkats and the teachers returned to their lunch at around four pm. </div><div align="center">{oh, and the sun was shining the whole time!}</div><div align="center"><br /><br /></div><div align="center"></div><span style="font-size:78%;"><a href="http://weheartit.com/entry/7616588">{image}<br /></a></span><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div></div>Travellerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13297726643673035333noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3477403237123614985.post-90389713402095643102011-03-04T23:35:00.008+00:002011-03-05T00:01:34.867+00:00Weekend.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgscx912u7bpKlVg_PobXH0fYbPmPgWBCarRDe0m59paXBnVugLY9HmyPpt_rGaJyIieVFwFtz8Dz7nx5HPvHP9fThi__cRZ1NjKcGyKRK_33HRTmNgH08eXiMuAiyzYBSeFV2POOUSqgM/s1600/friday.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5580375487584057954" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 250px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 250px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgscx912u7bpKlVg_PobXH0fYbPmPgWBCarRDe0m59paXBnVugLY9HmyPpt_rGaJyIieVFwFtz8Dz7nx5HPvHP9fThi__cRZ1NjKcGyKRK_33HRTmNgH08eXiMuAiyzYBSeFV2POOUSqgM/s400/friday.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div align="center">Never has the acronym TGIF seemed more profound.</div><br /><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><em>Traveller's </em>week began with her<em> </em>very first trip to A & E </div><div align="center">{she's fine}</div><br /><div align="center"></div><div align="center">and it is currently ending with a bleary-eyed, midnight screening </div><div align="center">of her latest <a href="http://www.nbc.com/parenthood/">television indulgence </a></div><div align="center">whilst eating nutella straight out the jar. </div><br /><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><em>T </em>is classy like that.</div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><a href="http://weheartit.com/entry/5526805"><span style="font-size:78%;">{image}<br /></span></a></div>Travellerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13297726643673035333noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3477403237123614985.post-89834609051303448742011-02-26T00:19:00.002+00:002011-02-26T00:29:30.980+00:00Sartorialist.<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnlhxpRn7gCGisAfSXe7zKEVR2UE8L_aecNka9R8Oq5ib5dM3g6Qwr3RD0k653sELtdq9vihu_2RDmLHTYYEMpy5RHK_bU9QYjY7Utv-nYtAnxYDMMTrQaVoKHhgtKo_SOlz-JdEkQpjc/s1600/sartorialist.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5577788505833503618" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 267px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnlhxpRn7gCGisAfSXe7zKEVR2UE8L_aecNka9R8Oq5ib5dM3g6Qwr3RD0k653sELtdq9vihu_2RDmLHTYYEMpy5RHK_bU9QYjY7Utv-nYtAnxYDMMTrQaVoKHhgtKo_SOlz-JdEkQpjc/s400/sartorialist.jpg" border="0" /></a> <em>Traveller </em>loves this <a href="http://www.thesartorialist.blogspot.com/">post</a> from the Sartorialist.</div><div align="center"></div><br /><br /><div align="center">The segway and the fashionable Milanese gentleman seem so comically incongruous.</div>Travellerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13297726643673035333noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3477403237123614985.post-9718403213449872802011-02-08T20:01:00.007+00:002011-02-08T21:07:56.722+00:00Tri-hard.<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmbjQf5CmfLwHKJPguoV5VsT16U68fSeEaK1XkymQu54RgTMzLa05BuBh6-XMdOvLP_oXXPHiZIm7cAMuQI1sEWCiDRAzjheOMTIA9GJWDpVczXlaVTllQpasahGqy7BWfjqGBeAnc3dQ/s1600/triathlon.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5571419837236338898" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 266px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmbjQf5CmfLwHKJPguoV5VsT16U68fSeEaK1XkymQu54RgTMzLa05BuBh6-XMdOvLP_oXXPHiZIm7cAMuQI1sEWCiDRAzjheOMTIA9GJWDpVczXlaVTllQpasahGqy7BWfjqGBeAnc3dQ/s400/triathlon.jpg" border="0" /></a> <em>Traveller</em> has come to the realisation that she may be, well, just a little crazy. </div><br /><div align="center"></div><div align="center">Scratch that.<br /><br />She's definitely a little crazy.<br /><br />You see, she has signed up for a sprint-triathlon; a race which requires her to swim, cycle and run one after the other.<br /><br />The run is definitely manageable; at only 5k, it's much less than the half-marathon she completed last year. She's trying not to think about the fact that this will mean that people will be running quickly, leaving <em>Traveller</em> for dust.<br /><br />The swim's distance (750m) is not too bad; <em>T</em> is a little nervous, however, about drowning at the hands of crazed triathletes who may swim over her, dunk her or pull her little ankles. <em>T's </em>watched women's water polo - she knows what girls can be like in the water!<br /><br />The ride, however, is a major cause for concern. Problem number one being that <em>Traveller</em> doesn't even own a bike! Problem number two: at twenty kilometers, it is the longest leg of the competition and <em>T's </em>least-experienced-area.<br /><br />Other matters keeping <em>Traveller</em> up at night:<br /><br />sports bras under a swim suit - yes or no?<br />{she's thinking yes}<br /><br />dry off or start cycling wet?<br />{brr!}<br /><br />bike pants over swimmers in water?<br />{remember afore mentioned drowning concerns...}<br /></div><div align="center">and </div><div align="center"><strong><br /></strong><em>How will <strong>T's</strong></em><em> little legs even be able to run after riding for twenty kilometers?!</em><br /><br />It should be <strong><span style="font-size:130%;">interesting</span>.</strong><br /><br />Luckily, <em>T </em>has a few months to prepare (the race isn't until May 22nd) and she's already thinking about how bikini ready she'll be by summer...<br />there has to be some benefit to all these hours of training, right?<br /><br />Anyone out there crazy enough to have completed one of these races before? Do tell!<br /><br /><span style="font-size:78%;"><a href="http://weheartit.com/entry/5505116">{image}</a></span> </div>Travellerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13297726643673035333noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3477403237123614985.post-36244057023462183262011-01-30T20:48:00.005+00:002011-01-30T21:33:09.699+00:00Feeling crafty.<div align="center"><a href="http://s809.photobucket.com/albums/zz15/gourmettraveller/Photo%20board/?action=view&current=4Large.jpg" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" src="http://i809.photobucket.com/albums/zz15/gourmettraveller/Photo%20board/4Large.jpg" width="100%" /></a></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center">After failing home economics in her first year of high school after an epic battle with a sewing machine, <em>Traveller</em> has long since garnered a fear of anything crafty.</div><br /><div align="center">This month, however, after being encouraged by a friend, <em>T </em>completed her very first homemade project: a photo board.</div><br /><div align="center">With pretty material, shiny ribbon and robust buttons, it's almost a shame to cover it up with <em>Traveller's </em>most favourite photographs of people and places...</div><br /><div align="center">Almost.</div><br /><center><a href="http://s809.photobucket.com/albums/zz15/gourmettraveller/Photo%20board/?action=view&current=1Large.jpg" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" src="http://i809.photobucket.com/albums/zz15/gourmettraveller/Photo%20board/1Large.jpg" width="100%" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://s809.photobucket.com/albums/zz15/gourmettraveller/Photo%20board/?action=view&current=3Large.jpg" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" src="http://i809.photobucket.com/albums/zz15/gourmettraveller/Photo%20board/3Large.jpg" width="100%" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://s809.photobucket.com/albums/zz15/gourmettraveller/Photo%20board/?action=view&current=5Large.jpg" target="_blank"></a><a href="http://s809.photobucket.com/albums/zz15/gourmettraveller/Photo%20board/?action=view&current=7Large.jpg" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" src="http://i809.photobucket.com/albums/zz15/gourmettraveller/Photo%20board/7Large.jpg" width="100%" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="http://s809.photobucket.com/albums/zz15/gourmettraveller/Photo%20board/?action=view&current=8Custom.jpg" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" src="http://i809.photobucket.com/albums/zz15/gourmettraveller/Photo%20board/8Custom.jpg" width="100%" /></a> </center><p align="center"><br />Here's a <a href="http://snsribbon.wordpress.com/2008/08/01/how-to-make-a-ribbon-memo-board/">how to</a> that <em>T </em>consulted...<br /></p>Travellerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13297726643673035333noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3477403237123614985.post-2364525869410361582011-01-17T20:23:00.004+00:002011-01-17T20:48:31.427+00:00Tales from a German city.<center><a href="http://s809.photobucket.com/albums/zz15/gourmettraveller/Cologne/?action=view&current=CorinnaandJaimeDomLarge.jpg" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" src="http://i809.photobucket.com/albums/zz15/gourmettraveller/Cologne/CorinnaandJaimeDomLarge.jpg" width="100%" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Although it is not considered one of the most beautiful cities in Europe, Cologne definitely has other things going for it. </center><br /><center>Firstly, there are the delightful <a href="http://thegourmettraveller.blogspot.com/2011/01/cologne-christmas-markets.html">Christmas markets</a>.</center><center></center><br /><center>Secondly, it is the place where many crucial moments in modern history took place which makes it really interesting.</center><center></center><br /><center>And thirdly, the people of Cologne are really lovely.</center><br /><center><em>Traveller </em>noticed this on her first night in Cologne. She had just arrived in Cologne after taking six hours to travel from Brussels by train. The journey should take just over an hour but, due to snow, the train was delayed, very crowded and very slow.</center><center> <br /></center><center> Upon arriving in Cologne, <em>Traveller's</em> dear friend, Co, picked her up and they took the tram. On the tram, they were also experiencing delays due to the heavy snow. If this happened in London, an orchestra of irritation would sound; however, in Cologne, the tram-driver started to make jokes and the people in the train were laughing with each other and it felt like they were in no hurry at all. </center><br /><center>This attitude was felt all throughout the city during <em>Traveller's </em>time there: people were willing to help you whenever they could and they were all very jolly. This is <em>T's </em>kind of city!</center><center></center><br /><center>The other lovely part of visiting Cologne was spending time with Co, <em>Traveller's </em>dear friend from many years ago. We had many late night chats, did some serious shopping and even enjoyed a picnic on her bedroom floor. </center><br /><center><em>Traveller</em> learnt one important lesson while she was away - time is nothing between friends. She feels so lucky to have made friends with people from all over the world. </center><br /><center></center><br /><center><a href="http://s809.photobucket.com/albums/zz15/gourmettraveller/Cologne/?action=view&current=martincorinnaandjaimedomLarge.jpg" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" src="http://i809.photobucket.com/albums/zz15/gourmettraveller/Cologne/martincorinnaandjaimedomLarge.jpg" width="100%" /></a><br /><br /><br /><a href="http://s809.photobucket.com/albums/zz15/gourmettraveller/Cologne/?action=view&current=jaimeandcorinnaLarge.jpg" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" src="http://i809.photobucket.com/albums/zz15/gourmettraveller/Cologne/jaimeandcorinnaLarge.jpg" width="100%" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://s809.photobucket.com/albums/zz15/gourmettraveller/Cologne/?action=view&current=PicnicatcorinnasJPGLarge.jpg" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" src="http://i809.photobucket.com/albums/zz15/gourmettraveller/Cologne/PicnicatcorinnasJPGLarge.jpg" width="100%" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /></center>Travellerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13297726643673035333noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3477403237123614985.post-81946872107057391862011-01-15T17:23:00.004+00:002011-01-15T17:46:34.260+00:00Happy weekend {and a cute little blog}<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDr3hBEhIGd64vFXZOK6azSSg1lw45S1oAlKnkKj_yqlC8xHl4W4wLdAHBYu4_VfkMOnQRNGdeWb4TB1brHG_6d98zQbqkG5Mrh2kOZpxegNY9Dg5OUPWRjM8B7EvbiTbaLDhfByJ4a-8/s1600/hammock.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5562465982484235922" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 283px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDr3hBEhIGd64vFXZOK6azSSg1lw45S1oAlKnkKj_yqlC8xHl4W4wLdAHBYu4_VfkMOnQRNGdeWb4TB1brHG_6d98zQbqkG5Mrh2kOZpxegNY9Dg5OUPWRjM8B7EvbiTbaLDhfByJ4a-8/s400/hammock.jpg" border="0" /></a></div><p align="center">Traveller stumbled across this <a href="http://tomywife.tumblr.com/">little blog </a>recently and she adores it.</p><p align="center">It's a little fairytale-esque and wildly idealistic...</p><p align="center">but that's why <em>T</em> loves it! </p><p align="center">Sometimes you just need a little optimism.</p><p align="center">It's called 'To my wife' and it features notes from a guy to his future wife..</p><p align="center">here are a couple of <em>T's </em>favourites..</p><p align="center"><strong>DAD JEANS<br />You’ll never see me in dad jeans. You may see me in jeans whilst I’m being a dad but they have nothing to do with each other. </strong></p><p align="center"><strong>I WON’T<br />Buy you a scale for Valentine’s Day. One time my father did this, epic mistake.</strong></p><p align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">Happy weekend!</span></p><p align="center"><br /><span style="font-size:78%;"><a href="http://weheartit.com/entry/6302715">{image}</a></span></p>Travellerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13297726643673035333noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3477403237123614985.post-16490700072468341802011-01-13T20:56:00.004+00:002011-01-13T21:33:30.122+00:00Cologne Christmas Markets.<center><br /><a href="http://s809.photobucket.com/albums/zz15/gourmettraveller/Cologne/?action=view&current=gluweincorinnaandjaimeLarge.jpg" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" src="http://i809.photobucket.com/albums/zz15/gourmettraveller/Cologne/gluweincorinnaandjaimeLarge.jpg" width="100%" /></a> One of <em>Traveller's </em>favourite parts of her recent holiday was the Christmas markets in Cologne. </center><center></center><br /><center>Sometimes the lead up to Christmas can be so busy that <em>T </em>hardly has time to garner the Christmas spirit. </center><center>Not so last year.<br /><br /></center><center></center><center></center><center>The Christmas markets in Cologne, Germany really made <em>Traveller </em>so excited for the festive season. There was glühwein to drink, fairy lights twinkling, pretty trinkets to buy and delicious food to eat </center><center>{note roasting salmon below!}</center><br /><center></center><center><em>The best part?</em><br /></center><center>Traipsing around the markets with a dear friend who was both brilliant company and a shopping partner extraordinaire.</center><center><span style="font-size:78%;">{miss you, Co.}</span> </center><center></center><br /><center><a href="http://s809.photobucket.com/albums/zz15/gourmettraveller/Cologne/?action=view&current=salmonLarge.jpg" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" src="http://i809.photobucket.com/albums/zz15/gourmettraveller/Cologne/salmonLarge.jpg" width="100%" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://s809.photobucket.com/albums/zz15/gourmettraveller/Cologne/?action=view&current=spicesLarge.jpg" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" src="http://i809.photobucket.com/albums/zz15/gourmettraveller/Cologne/spicesLarge.jpg" width="100%" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://s809.photobucket.com/albums/zz15/gourmettraveller/Cologne/?action=view&current=soapsLarge.jpg" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" src="http://i809.photobucket.com/albums/zz15/gourmettraveller/Cologne/soapsLarge.jpg" width="100%" /></a> <br /><br /><a href="http://s809.photobucket.com/albums/zz15/gourmettraveller/Cologne/?action=view&current=IMG_4186.jpg" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" src="http://i809.photobucket.com/albums/zz15/gourmettraveller/Cologne/IMG_4186.jpg" width="100%" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://s809.photobucket.com/albums/zz15/gourmettraveller/Cologne/?action=view&current=hearttrees.jpg" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" src="http://i809.photobucket.com/albums/zz15/gourmettraveller/Cologne/hearttrees.jpg" width="100%" /></a> </center><center></center><center><br /><br /> </center>Travellerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13297726643673035333noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3477403237123614985.post-13416263065677283972011-01-11T20:35:00.013+00:002011-01-11T21:12:49.726+00:00On a more serious note...<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe6qXNYi78Id7PMqXF8j5DhUAXWnc4vcfZLzHUyVWQzpQ2lLrWZQPS5OXIdn7twCDQqiN3uYlhXin0xbHyx-25o_hLYva7lKaAPH9oKyhgab-S3aWFgHxHGsWyKyGgKNVa8uokMhd7B84/s1600/rain.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5561037196582678018" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 194px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe6qXNYi78Id7PMqXF8j5DhUAXWnc4vcfZLzHUyVWQzpQ2lLrWZQPS5OXIdn7twCDQqiN3uYlhXin0xbHyx-25o_hLYva7lKaAPH9oKyhgab-S3aWFgHxHGsWyKyGgKNVa8uokMhd7B84/s400/rain.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><div align="center">Today's post was going to be about <em>Traveller's </em>recent trip to Cologne, Germany but today it doesn't feel very relevant...</div><br /><div align="center">When <em>Traveller </em>was last living in Queensland, Australia,</div><div align="center">{three years ago} </div><div align="center">they were operating under severe water restrictions.</div><div align="center">She used to have to wash her car without the use of a hose, water her garden with a watering can and shower inside a three minute time bracket.</div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-size:85%;">{The council delivered a three minute egg-timer which suctioned onto T's bathroom wall so that she could make sure she kept to the three minute time allowance.</span>}</em></div><br /><div align="center">You couldn't go anywhere without being reminded of the drought: the grass was brown and even the water bubblers and showers at the beach were out of use. </div><br /><div align="center">Now, as most of you know, rain rain and more rain has hit Queensland with much of it underwater and with serious flash-flooding occuring in Toowoomba and Brisbane. </div><div align="center">It is so serious that many people have died and more are missing. </div><br /><div align="center"><em>Traveller's </em>heart hurts for the people who have lost so much. </div><div align="center">And, while she knows they're safe, she is still a little worried for her family and friends in Brisbane and Toowoomba. </div><br /><div align="center">With Queensland's slogan 'The Sunshine State' now seeming cruelly ironic, <em>Traveller</em> is hoping and praying that they indeed receive the sunshine that they desperately need. </div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:78%;"><a href="http://weheartit.com/entry/6037304"><br /><br />{image}</a></span></div></div>Travellerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13297726643673035333noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3477403237123614985.post-1028373134945101742011-01-07T13:30:00.009+00:002011-01-08T18:16:18.602+00:00Over to the dark side.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZqqu5Bt7uyHpseDJYdJKC8qfwNr9FZWv4EpxS6x1xfbIJp1cPGFoQL5uTKN4qF2xCrUdOCkn8pYCB2z5ibwsr9oMk5qaOSxVc6ZkZI3geytTMySIZVtuPGirOtvQbYGtU918eRA1jWwI/s1600/chocolate.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5559443208262583634" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 267px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZqqu5Bt7uyHpseDJYdJKC8qfwNr9FZWv4EpxS6x1xfbIJp1cPGFoQL5uTKN4qF2xCrUdOCkn8pYCB2z5ibwsr9oMk5qaOSxVc6ZkZI3geytTMySIZVtuPGirOtvQbYGtU918eRA1jWwI/s400/chocolate.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><em>Traveller's</em> <a href="http://thegourmettraveller.blogspot.com/2009/10/travellers-best-gal.html">best friend from Australia</a>, after reading yesterday's <a href="http://thegourmettraveller.blogspot.com/2011/01/addiction.html">blog post</a>, called her in distress. </div><br /><div>The conversation goes as follows:<br /><br /></div><div align="center"><em></em></div><div align="center"><em>You can't cross over to the dark side! I won't allow it.</em></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><br />Sorry, pardon? The dark side?<br /><br /></div><div align="center"><em>Yes, you know, dark chocolate! </em></div><div align="center"><br />Well, it is better for you, you know? Which means I can eat a whole block and not feel too bad about myself. </div><br /><div align="center"><em>But liking dark chocolate means you're getting old!</em><br /></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><br />Well.. when you put it like that. <strong>Thanks. </strong></div><br /><div>The conversation ran through <em>T's </em>mind today as she nibbled on some dark orange chocolate with fig pieces {so good!}. She started to remember all the foods she used to avoid which now feature heavily on her 'love' list. </div><br /><div>First, when she was fifteen, she suddenly began to adore anything to do with <strong>avocado</strong>. Prior to this, the fruit {isn't it weird that it's a fruit?} was not something that she enjoyed. Then, when she turned 20, <em>Traveller</em> started to be partial to <strong>fish</strong>. She remembers very vividly growing up in a house where fish was generally eaten once a week and <em>T</em> used to have nightmares about the silvery lining. Now, she can't get enough of the stuff. {The fish, not the silvery lining. That still kind of grosses her out.} Following this, in her early 20s, <strong>white wine</strong> started to taste quite nice. </div><br /><div>Then, when a quarter of a century was reached, the foods which <em>Traveller</em> now enjoyed seemed to become a much longer list: she now <em>loved </em><strong>stinky cheese</strong> {the bluer the better}, <strong>red wine</strong> is her drink of choice, all <strong>seafood</strong> is now savoured - including those creatures with more legs than <em>T </em>can count and the list goes on. She even, now this is serious news to <em>T's </em>friends who know her well, ate an olive this week without gagging! Progress! </div><br /><div>Now, the only real food that's on <em>Traveller's</em> 'avoid at all cost' list is <strong>canned tuna</strong>. Frankly, she doesn't mind too much if she never quite develops the taste buds for that one. The stuff really stinks {and not in a good, blue-veined cheese, kind of way}!</div><div></div><div></div><div align="center"><br />Anyone agree with <em>Traveller? </em>What food do you enjoy that you used to loathe? </div><br /><div align="center"><em>T</em> is looking forward to hearing your stories. </div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><br />Oh, and if liking these things means that <em>T </em>is old... than she doesn't want to be young. </div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:78%;"><br /><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/artsan/4215983448/in/set-72157624368268963/">{image}</a></span></div>Travellerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13297726643673035333noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3477403237123614985.post-28978674342750166862011-01-06T17:54:00.005+00:002011-01-06T18:23:56.167+00:00Addiction.<center><br /><a href="http://s809.photobucket.com/albums/zz15/gourmettraveller/Cologne/?action=view&current=pouringchocolateLarge.jpg" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" src="http://i809.photobucket.com/albums/zz15/gourmettraveller/Cologne/pouringchocolateLarge.jpg" width="100%" /></a><br />A chocolate addiction is a serious thing. </center><br /><center><em>Traveller </em>honestly can't think of a day when she has gone without chocolate </center><center><span style="font-size:85%;">{except for yesterday} </span></center><center>in a long, long time. </center><br /><center>In fact, one of <em>T's </em>new year resolutions is to eat less of the milky, creamy good stuff and switch to the less creamy, darker kind.</center><center><span style="font-size:85%;">{which explains why she didn't eat it yesterday}</span></center><center><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-size:78%;">{she only made her resolutions yesterday}</span></span></center><br /><p align="center"><em>T </em>digresses...<br /></p><p align="center">Right before Christmas and before any such resolutions were made, <em>Traveller</em> visited the Lindt chocolate factory in Cologne, Germany and, let's just say, any building that has a chocolate fountain filled with pure, creamy, delicious Lindt chocolate is alright by her<em>. </em><br /><em></em></p><p align="center"><em>The best part?</em><br /></p><p align="center">A Lindt representative hands you a wafer that has been dipped into the afore mentioned fountain.<br /></p><p align="center">Needless to say, <em>Traveller</em> visited the obliging wafer lady more than once...</p><p align="center"> Another factor worth mentioning is that you receive a chocolate on the way in and a chocolate with any drink that you order from their lovely cafe which sits on the Rhine River.</p><p align="center"><em>Traveller</em> has a feeling that she won't survive very long without the sweet goodness of Lindt chocolate. </p><p align="center"><a href="http://s809.photobucket.com/albums/zz15/gourmettraveller/Cologne/?action=view&current=chocolatewrapping.jpg" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" src="http://i809.photobucket.com/albums/zz15/gourmettraveller/Cologne/chocolatewrapping.jpg" width="100%" /></a><br /><br />They hand wrap the large chocolate santas. <em>T </em>timed her; it took seven minutes!<br /><br /><a href="http://s809.photobucket.com/albums/zz15/gourmettraveller/Cologne/?action=view&current=ChocolatefountainLarge.jpg" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" src="http://i809.photobucket.com/albums/zz15/gourmettraveller/Cologne/ChocolatefountainLarge.jpg" width="100%" /></a><br />Traveller's exchange friend from Switzerland - Yuvia - enjoying the wafer dipped in melted chocolate</p><p align="center"><br /><a href="http://s809.photobucket.com/albums/zz15/gourmettraveller/Cologne/?action=view&current=teaLarge.jpg" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" src="http://i809.photobucket.com/albums/zz15/gourmettraveller/Cologne/teaLarge.jpg" width="100%" /></a> </p>Travellerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13297726643673035333noreply@blogger.com3