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Saturday, February 28, 2009
Friday, February 27, 2009
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Sky watch friday # 47
A couple of night photos from Drammen taken with a tripod and long shutter speeds.
17mm - f/8 - Iso 200 - 30 sec
28mm - f/8 - Iso 200 - 13 sec
For more Sky Watch photos, visit the Sky watch site - Sky watch was Dots idea, now hosted by Sandy, Wren, Klaus, Fishing Guy and Ivar.
Post of the Day to my Father-in Law
My Father-in-law celebrated yesterday his 90th birthday with more than 40 guests and all the trimmings. Today he received another accolade: My greeting to him in yesterday's post received a Post of the Day from the well-known Australian journalist and super-blogger David McMahon. You may have given it to me, but it was for my father-in law.Thank you, David!
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Fire and Ice - and an award
Well, what can I say, blogging is sporadic and infrequent - and is likely to become more so as the creative juices start to flow... Yep, I think I am finally finding my way clear to start working on a huge rewrite of my Young Adult paranormal novel. I still have a lot of research that I want to do - instead of being "original" like everyone insists, I want to revert to the classic mythology and then move forward from there. So please do bear with me if I become even more absent than usual.
It's strange actually because February is always the month when ideas really start to flow for me - something to do with harvesting perhaps, it being the end of summer... Who knows.
But even if I am a little absent in the blogosphere there will always be words, because words are what I do - I can't seem to help myself. So here's a little something I scribbled the other morning, after stepping outside... Just words...
Fire and Ice
There’s an uncharacteristic chill in the hazy February air, as though autumn and its wispy mists have arrived early. But it seems unlikely. An unearthly yellow-orange glow filters the sunlight, washing the trees and the grass with an artist’s pale watercolours. Is it indeed fog, I wonder? Or is it smoke? I can’t smell fire.
Yet as the morning unfolds and the sinister orange glow refuses to pass and the vapours shrouding the mountains don’t lift, I’m made to wonder again.
I want to try and capture the eerie light, though I hardly feel I’m able; I’m not an impressionist behind a camera lens. I venture outside, stunned at the way the light filters through the leaves of the grapevine.
And then I smell it. The unmistakable smell of burning bush. The smoke lingers high in the sky. It swathes the mountains in gauzy arms, blocking them from view. You shall not see what I am doing here.
The scrub has been tinder dry all summer.
I had said when the season began that we should expect fires. You could feel it in the air, in the tremors of breath beneath the earth, in the sap that surged through the trunks of trees. There was a restlessness on the mountain slopes that slunk down into the suburbs and jostled with dreams to be noticed.
Of course, I was being fanciful, wasn’t I…
But as the acrid bite of burning scrub tickles the edges of my nostril, I am reminded of what I sensed, of what I knew.
Fire.
Just as gazing on the Australian cherry trees I know it’s going to be a bitter winter. Three successions of blooming in one season. More cherries than I have ever seen. Oh it will snow this year.
Icily.
And then, and then... there was an award - from both Lakeviewer of at Sixtyfivewhatnow and Angela at Letters from Usedom. Thank you so much for this very special award.
The Best Blog Thinker Award
It's strange actually because February is always the month when ideas really start to flow for me - something to do with harvesting perhaps, it being the end of summer... Who knows.
But even if I am a little absent in the blogosphere there will always be words, because words are what I do - I can't seem to help myself. So here's a little something I scribbled the other morning, after stepping outside... Just words...
Fire and Ice
There’s an uncharacteristic chill in the hazy February air, as though autumn and its wispy mists have arrived early. But it seems unlikely. An unearthly yellow-orange glow filters the sunlight, washing the trees and the grass with an artist’s pale watercolours. Is it indeed fog, I wonder? Or is it smoke? I can’t smell fire.
Yet as the morning unfolds and the sinister orange glow refuses to pass and the vapours shrouding the mountains don’t lift, I’m made to wonder again.
I want to try and capture the eerie light, though I hardly feel I’m able; I’m not an impressionist behind a camera lens. I venture outside, stunned at the way the light filters through the leaves of the grapevine.
And then I smell it. The unmistakable smell of burning bush. The smoke lingers high in the sky. It swathes the mountains in gauzy arms, blocking them from view. You shall not see what I am doing here.
The scrub has been tinder dry all summer.
I had said when the season began that we should expect fires. You could feel it in the air, in the tremors of breath beneath the earth, in the sap that surged through the trunks of trees. There was a restlessness on the mountain slopes that slunk down into the suburbs and jostled with dreams to be noticed.
Of course, I was being fanciful, wasn’t I…
But as the acrid bite of burning scrub tickles the edges of my nostril, I am reminded of what I sensed, of what I knew.
Fire.
Just as gazing on the Australian cherry trees I know it’s going to be a bitter winter. Three successions of blooming in one season. More cherries than I have ever seen. Oh it will snow this year.
Icily.
And then, and then... there was an award - from both Lakeviewer of at Sixtyfivewhatnow and Angela at Letters from Usedom. Thank you so much for this very special award.
The Best Blog Thinker AwardIn the words of the person who created it:
"This award acknowledges the values that every Blogger displays in their effort to transmit cultural, ethical, literary, and personal values with each message they write. Awards like this have been created with the intention of promoting community among Bloggers. It`s a way to show appreciation and gratitude for work that adds value to the Web."
And of course, in time honoured tradition, I must pass it on.
And so this award goes to... (applause, please ladies and gentlemen!)
Debi Alper who is currently reliving her experiences of the Grenadian revolution on her blog. Debi is an author and reading about her experiences is both riveting and eye-opening.
Kim at Mouse Medicine, who always has something wise and insightful to say.
To Sue Guiney who takes us with her on her journey of creative expression and writing with tremendous insight.
To Steph of The Biopsy Report who has written tirelessly and courageously about illness and the Irish health system.
To Renee of Graulhet Bonjour who gives us a unique insight into life in a small French town and so broadens our horizons - and of course, one must not forget her intrepid hound, the sleuth writer, Ms Cybele Christie - this award goes to her too!
And finally to Ernest of Rub2Neurons who claims to abhor awards and all the sycophantic behaviour that goes with them. He thinks, he postulates and he is insightful, outspoken and decidedly witty - see what I mean by visiting his other blog... The God Diaries.
To put the award on your blog, this in case you are technically challenged... Right click on the blog award image above and select "save as" - save it to the file of your choice on your pc and from there, in the usual manner of posting images to you blog, well, post it!
"This award acknowledges the values that every Blogger displays in their effort to transmit cultural, ethical, literary, and personal values with each message they write. Awards like this have been created with the intention of promoting community among Bloggers. It`s a way to show appreciation and gratitude for work that adds value to the Web."
And of course, in time honoured tradition, I must pass it on.
And so this award goes to... (applause, please ladies and gentlemen!)
Debi Alper who is currently reliving her experiences of the Grenadian revolution on her blog. Debi is an author and reading about her experiences is both riveting and eye-opening.
Kim at Mouse Medicine, who always has something wise and insightful to say.
To Sue Guiney who takes us with her on her journey of creative expression and writing with tremendous insight.
To Steph of The Biopsy Report who has written tirelessly and courageously about illness and the Irish health system.
To Renee of Graulhet Bonjour who gives us a unique insight into life in a small French town and so broadens our horizons - and of course, one must not forget her intrepid hound, the sleuth writer, Ms Cybele Christie - this award goes to her too!
And finally to Ernest of Rub2Neurons who claims to abhor awards and all the sycophantic behaviour that goes with them. He thinks, he postulates and he is insightful, outspoken and decidedly witty - see what I mean by visiting his other blog... The God Diaries.
To put the award on your blog, this in case you are technically challenged... Right click on the blog award image above and select "save as" - save it to the file of your choice on your pc and from there, in the usual manner of posting images to you blog, well, post it!
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
F is for Father-in-law and Fireman in ABC Wednesday
This Wednesday my Father-in-law turns 90, and is there a better F than that? He was born one year after WW1 and grew up during the post-war struggles for survival, the depression and all the problems that ensued. He managed to become a journeyman painter in the 30s, but jobs were scarce and far between. Then came WW2 and the Nazi-occupation of Norway. Painters and all sorts of skilled labour were drafted by the new authorities, but my father-in-law managed to escape from this by joining - The Fire Squad.You might call that going from the ashes into the fire, and in many ways it was. Bergen was one of the Norwegian cities most hit by allied bombing (had a large Nazi-submarine base), but the worst happening was the explosion of a commandeered Dutch vessel loaded with explosives that lay in the harbour in the middle of the city. It destroyed a large part of the centre. The ship's anchor was later found on top of a 500m high mountain east of the city.
But he survived. When peace came he was decommissioned together with a large part of the Fire Squad, started for himself as Master Painter and married my future mother-in-law. From this marriage came 3 children (one of them obviously my wife), 11 grandchildren, and 5 great-grandchildren (so far). One might say that he has done his part to maintain the number of the Norwegian populace.
He has now been a widower for 20 years after my mother-in-law died, but he is still going strong - The much beloved "Moffen" for our own four children, a wonderful Father for my wife and the best Father-in-law I could have had.
PS Did I mention that he also trained as a painter in oils? Below is a copy of one picture that hangs in our living-room.
PS For obvious reasons I may have some difficulties doing "the rounds" right now - but I'll try to do it bit by bit later on!
Today's post is an entry in the fourth round of ABC Wednesday, the meme initiated by Denise Nesbitt.Monday, February 23, 2009
My world - Drammen Norway
Drammen today
Welcome to My World Tuesday. A new meme hosted by Klaus and rest of the Sky Watch Team. For more posts and rules please visit My World Tuesday .
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Angela's Story - an update
You may remember the last post I wrote about Angela and her employer, Pecksniff… And you may like to know what has transpired since then. The simple answer is not a lot – assuming one is only talking about the authorities. On the flip side, there’s been some great progress.
Following on the last post about Angela, I contacted the South African Domestic Services and Allied Workers Union (SADSAWU) and spoke the secretary general, Myrtle Witbooi. It seemed she was well aware of Pecksniff’s operation and several others like it, which were considerably worse. One “maid service” operation, the worst example, lured refugees and women from rural areas and kept them in a single garage – some twenty women with one toilet to share between them. They were paid a pittance – if they were lucky. Three years ago, one young woman was found dead and the company was forced to close. At the time, Myrtle contacted a local television programme (Carte Blanche) to do an exposé of these exploitative companies. The producers, however, despite interviewing Myrtle, never came back to her. In the meantime, the “maid service company” has re-opened - and is operating without a license.
Several other companies have also come to the Union’s attention – many of whom pay below the minimum wage having lured refugees and women from rural areas with promises of a “better life”.
As I understand it the problem lies with the Department of Labour, which although it requires these “maid services” operations to be registered and to maintain a list of employees, evidently requires them to do little else and certainly appears not to regulate this “industry” in any way. This means that many of these “companies” fly under the radar and get away with treating their staff abysmally. However, this is not just a South African problem, it’s rife across the world, as a google search will show you. While the Union does what it can it is totally under-resourced and also hamstrung by the fact that many of the workers will not come forward to complain or give evidence against employers.
This is tragically understandable. The labour market is huge, made up of millions of local people and millions of refugees. The market it serves, on the other hand, is very small. Thus most people put up and shut up because a couple of dollars a day is worth more than no income at all. The grim truth is that the weak and oppressed are always exploited. But at least there are organizations and people out there trying to do something about it.
Myrtle Witbooi told me that she had a meeting lined up with the Minister of Labour to discuss these very issues and I referred her to my blog post with its list of concerns about Pecksniff – having given her Pecksniff’s real name and details. I have, however, heard nothing further from her – and don’t expect to.
In wanting to help in some way, many of you were kind enough to write to the International Labour Organisation – and you will no doubt have had a similar letter to the one I received saying there was nothing they could do to help and suggesting that I contact the local union representative – despite my having told them I’d already done that. I do sometimes wonder if people actually read the full content of their emails…
I also contacted the Black Sash, a local NGO (non profit/non govermental organization) that deals with social, labour and human rights issues. They have remained blissfully silent. Admittedly, this sort of thing may not be their jurisdiction, but you’d think that given an old school pal is one of the directors she may have pointed me in the right direction…
And herein lies the rub: I learned long ago that if you want to get something done, don’t rely on authority figures and institutions. There is too much politics and too much bureaucracy – and more than a small bit of self interest. It is far more effective to make whatever difference you can, by yourself. You don’t change the world in a grand brushstroke – you change the world by being the best you can in your own small corner. As Ghandi said, “you must be the change you want to see in the world”.
So, whilst nothing has happened at the grand brushstroke level things have been happening in my own backyard.
In a rather ironic twist, Pecksniff, despite having fired D and I as clients, has allowed Angela to continue working here – which has made it easier for us to help her. For one thing, working directly for us her salary (for one day of the week) has increased substantially – to the extent that she is now able to send sufficient money to Zimbabwe to get her daughter a private tutor (given that the education system in Zim has crumbled entirely). Secondly, once her maternity leave is over, Angela will not be going back to work for Pecksniff.
I have a friend, T, who is in the throes of starting a small NGO, called Dreamworker (“working for the unemployed”), which assists job seekers in finding employment. On Wednesday, having written a letter of recommendation for her, I will be taking Angela for an interview with T. In the meantime, I’m teaching Angela the meaning of empowerment and self worth – helping her to understand the value of what she does and that she deserves to be treated well - but that unless she stands up for herself, people will take advantage of her wherever they can. T, in turn, will explain to Angela her rights in terms of the Labour Relations Act. T will then line up a series of interviews for Angela and Angela will be able to choose who she works for. And if the first new job doesn’t work out, T will find her another job. If Angela has a good experience with Dreamworker, she will be able to refer her friends there. Hopefully, Angela’s own experiences will be a light for others.
We start with one, in our own backyard…
It’s ironic that Dreamworker does something not dissimilar from Pecksniff, only it doesn’t charge for its services– it’s all done because T wants to make a difference and to make the world a better place by helping people empower themselves. She started in her own neighbourhood and now she’s spreading her angel’s wings over more of Cape Town.
In due course, I hope to write an article for the local media with T on the “life stories” of those she’s helped. I hope Angela’s story will be one of those.
ADDENDUM: It may interest you to know that last month Pecksniff paid Angela and other employees less than half a month's salary. When Angela protested, she was given another few hundred rand but still didn't receive her full salary. When she protested again, Pecksniff arranged to pay her full salary, but insisted that Angela didn't tell other employees... It has struck both Angela and me that Pecksniff's operation may well be on the skids. Staff, sick and tired of the way they are treated, are leaving, and even customers, who are coming to learn more about Pecksniff and how she does business, are walking away. Unfortunately, Pecksniff is but one of many.
Following on the last post about Angela, I contacted the South African Domestic Services and Allied Workers Union (SADSAWU) and spoke the secretary general, Myrtle Witbooi. It seemed she was well aware of Pecksniff’s operation and several others like it, which were considerably worse. One “maid service” operation, the worst example, lured refugees and women from rural areas and kept them in a single garage – some twenty women with one toilet to share between them. They were paid a pittance – if they were lucky. Three years ago, one young woman was found dead and the company was forced to close. At the time, Myrtle contacted a local television programme (Carte Blanche) to do an exposé of these exploitative companies. The producers, however, despite interviewing Myrtle, never came back to her. In the meantime, the “maid service company” has re-opened - and is operating without a license.
Several other companies have also come to the Union’s attention – many of whom pay below the minimum wage having lured refugees and women from rural areas with promises of a “better life”.
As I understand it the problem lies with the Department of Labour, which although it requires these “maid services” operations to be registered and to maintain a list of employees, evidently requires them to do little else and certainly appears not to regulate this “industry” in any way. This means that many of these “companies” fly under the radar and get away with treating their staff abysmally. However, this is not just a South African problem, it’s rife across the world, as a google search will show you. While the Union does what it can it is totally under-resourced and also hamstrung by the fact that many of the workers will not come forward to complain or give evidence against employers.
This is tragically understandable. The labour market is huge, made up of millions of local people and millions of refugees. The market it serves, on the other hand, is very small. Thus most people put up and shut up because a couple of dollars a day is worth more than no income at all. The grim truth is that the weak and oppressed are always exploited. But at least there are organizations and people out there trying to do something about it.
Myrtle Witbooi told me that she had a meeting lined up with the Minister of Labour to discuss these very issues and I referred her to my blog post with its list of concerns about Pecksniff – having given her Pecksniff’s real name and details. I have, however, heard nothing further from her – and don’t expect to.
In wanting to help in some way, many of you were kind enough to write to the International Labour Organisation – and you will no doubt have had a similar letter to the one I received saying there was nothing they could do to help and suggesting that I contact the local union representative – despite my having told them I’d already done that. I do sometimes wonder if people actually read the full content of their emails…
I also contacted the Black Sash, a local NGO (non profit/non govermental organization) that deals with social, labour and human rights issues. They have remained blissfully silent. Admittedly, this sort of thing may not be their jurisdiction, but you’d think that given an old school pal is one of the directors she may have pointed me in the right direction…
And herein lies the rub: I learned long ago that if you want to get something done, don’t rely on authority figures and institutions. There is too much politics and too much bureaucracy – and more than a small bit of self interest. It is far more effective to make whatever difference you can, by yourself. You don’t change the world in a grand brushstroke – you change the world by being the best you can in your own small corner. As Ghandi said, “you must be the change you want to see in the world”.
So, whilst nothing has happened at the grand brushstroke level things have been happening in my own backyard.
In a rather ironic twist, Pecksniff, despite having fired D and I as clients, has allowed Angela to continue working here – which has made it easier for us to help her. For one thing, working directly for us her salary (for one day of the week) has increased substantially – to the extent that she is now able to send sufficient money to Zimbabwe to get her daughter a private tutor (given that the education system in Zim has crumbled entirely). Secondly, once her maternity leave is over, Angela will not be going back to work for Pecksniff.
I have a friend, T, who is in the throes of starting a small NGO, called Dreamworker (“working for the unemployed”), which assists job seekers in finding employment. On Wednesday, having written a letter of recommendation for her, I will be taking Angela for an interview with T. In the meantime, I’m teaching Angela the meaning of empowerment and self worth – helping her to understand the value of what she does and that she deserves to be treated well - but that unless she stands up for herself, people will take advantage of her wherever they can. T, in turn, will explain to Angela her rights in terms of the Labour Relations Act. T will then line up a series of interviews for Angela and Angela will be able to choose who she works for. And if the first new job doesn’t work out, T will find her another job. If Angela has a good experience with Dreamworker, she will be able to refer her friends there. Hopefully, Angela’s own experiences will be a light for others.
We start with one, in our own backyard…
It’s ironic that Dreamworker does something not dissimilar from Pecksniff, only it doesn’t charge for its services– it’s all done because T wants to make a difference and to make the world a better place by helping people empower themselves. She started in her own neighbourhood and now she’s spreading her angel’s wings over more of Cape Town.
In due course, I hope to write an article for the local media with T on the “life stories” of those she’s helped. I hope Angela’s story will be one of those.
ADDENDUM: It may interest you to know that last month Pecksniff paid Angela and other employees less than half a month's salary. When Angela protested, she was given another few hundred rand but still didn't receive her full salary. When she protested again, Pecksniff arranged to pay her full salary, but insisted that Angela didn't tell other employees... It has struck both Angela and me that Pecksniff's operation may well be on the skids. Staff, sick and tired of the way they are treated, are leaving, and even customers, who are coming to learn more about Pecksniff and how she does business, are walking away. Unfortunately, Pecksniff is but one of many.
Friday, February 20, 2009
What a difference a day makes
The weather is never dull in this part of the world. What is covered in fog one day may be drenched in sun the next. When one makes more or less the same stroll (nearly) every day one gets to appreciate these changes. What yesterday might have passed for a world in black and white and slightly out of focus, was today nice and sharp. Here are some examples taken one day apart at three different locations on my way.
The pictures were taken with my small Panasonic compact which I always carry. It can't produce RAW-files, so the pictures are based on JPEG in Standard mode as set by the Panasonic engineers. I have just done some small cropping and sharpening etc. Photoshop had intentionally a light job here.Thursday, February 19, 2009
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
ABC Wednesday - E is for, well, myself.
Some of those who follow this blog will now what the last E in my "signature" stands for. Norwegians will know what it means, but for people outside Scandinavia I suspect that the meaning is not self-evident. It may also be hard to pronounce for some, though the Germans and the Dutch have no problems. I'll spare you all the variants that I have heard in the UK, US and other English-speaking countries.It is like many Norwegian names based on local geography - it means an isthmus. Wikipedia defines it like this:
An isthmus is a narrow strip of land connecting two larger land areas.In the coastal part of Norway it is a fairly common surname. Anyone who has seen a map of Norway can readily understand why. Below is a map of the particular area where my name comes from - Ostereidet.
This particular isthmus separates the two fjords Osterfjorden og Hindenesfjorden and is situated North-East of Bergen - about an hour's drive by car. It is in the municipality of Lindås and is a typical little village with a couple of shops, petrol station, school and a church. And of course some hundred inhabitants in the immediate area.My father was born here, and here is where we have our summer cottage. I also have a number of cousins living in the area. It is my roots.
This picture shows the view from the highest point on the road (Leitet) across the istmus and features Osterfjorden and Ostereidet itself with the old quay which used to be the centre for all transportation, and for most other activities too, in "the old days".
If you want to have a look at Hindenesfjorden, just turn around and walk a couple of kilometres and you may see something like this. Today's post is an entry in the fourth round of ABC Wednesday, the meme initiated by Denise Nesbitt.Monday, February 16, 2009
Food, Glorious Food
There is food and then there is creativity, sex, love and sublime cosmic fusion on a plate. I had the latter on Saturday evening. Oh man! Wow and double wow. It’s not that often one goes out for a meal that leaves one waxing lyrical about the culinary creativity of the chef. But this man worked magic.
The restaurant, Bon Appetit is in Simonstown – remember, I took you there at the beginning of the year. Now I’ve wanted to go to Bon Appetit for a while but given we don’t eat out much (courtesy of my multiple food intolerances and dicky digestive system) we just haven’t got round to it. But Saturday being Valentine’s Day and my system being stronger than it has been in a while, I figured it was time to chuck caution to the wind and indulge. It's been far too long since I've done the gourmet thing.
Bon Appetit’s menu is unashamedly French - the chef being a native of Brittany – and Michelin trained at that. And I love French food – good, proper, real French food in the grand tradition – and this food was that and more - and in a setting that was relaxed and friendly. Talk about melding unexpected flavours, talk about an explosion of taste which somehow, despite its intensity, rolls subtly around your tongue filling your mouth with an experience that goes way beyond “just food”. This was a combination of ingredients that was orgasmic. There is simply no other way to describe it. Like I said, cosmic fusion, sex on a plate. And that’s without even mentioning the presentation.
I started with an Assiete of Marinated Oysters – oh yes, let your tongue drool over that – served with a chardonnay and lemon granité and Portuguese sardines and red peppers in a filo pastry. Each oyster was marinated differently, one included passion fruit and tequila, another had hints of sesame seeds, another was soused with vodka and, I think, balsamic vinegar. Before you think that the flavour of the oyster was killed in all that, think again – the tastes exploded in my mouth and atop them all, singing like a prima donna, was the oyster. Oh yum.
D had a camembert baked in a filo pastry with an apricot confit served with a beetroot and balsamic ice cream. Hmm-mmm. Light, delicate, deep, moreish. Want some?
So, are you guys drooling yet? No? Shame on you!
So to mains… I swear if your laptop or keyboard is not awash in saliva by the end of this post then either I’m a very poor writer and/or you have no culinary imagination!
My main course was the Parmetier de Confit de Canard – shredded duck confit, tender and melting, blended with just a soupçon of foie gras, served between layers of the creamiest potato mousseline with a port jus. As for the presentation, sublime – a work of art in itself. It was daunting to actually stick my fork in and enjoy the food, which left me cooing and oohing like a woman well on her way to an ecstatic heaven via culinary erotica.
D had braised pork tenderloins with a concassée of apple and raisins and crispy crunch crackling – the flavours all married so well and meltingly delicious - a gentle, lyrical symphony of taste.
And then there was dessert. The Vanilla Goddess left all things vanillarish to D who had light-as-air profiteroles with three bean vanilla ice-cream and chocolate sauce, while I had Apple a la Pomme (apple of the apple…) - an individual apple tart, sort of a mini tarte tatin, served with Granny Smith sorbet and cider-schnapps jelly. Just the right level of tartness and freshness after the duck.
What can I say… we went to paradise and I’m not sure when we came back again. All I know is this – I’m going back!
As I said to the waiter, “I think I might just need to nip into the kitchen to tell the chef I want to have his babies.” I don’t think the front of house manager, the chef’s wife, took that too kindly. Still, I’d run out of superlatives by that stage and sometimes you just have to say it like it is!
And then there was the perfect Out of Africa moment. As I was sitting at our window table mooning over the food, I noticed a large grey dog loping along the pavement. The oddest thing was that it appeared to have a smaller dog on its back. As it passed the twinkly fairy lights in the window it struck me… Not a dog but a baboon and its baby! I ask you. Where else other than in Cape Town would you be seated in a gourmet restaurant while a baboon and child strolled past – presumably on her way to the pub to collect her husband – yes I’m sure - given the way she winked at me as she passed by. Well, come on, it’s not that unlikely, is it? When you eat food that is created by sheer magic, why should reality not blend with unreality to transport you to an entirely other sort of realism…? After all, who really knows where illusion ends and begins - and with food like this, does one really care?
Odd Shot at the Hospital
Even when you are down and out there might still be something of interest to be found.
Sunday, February 15, 2009
Saturday, February 14, 2009
Fotosafari by car (mainly)
GAWO ushered a command earlier this week that everyone should get outside and enjoy the beautiful winter weather, preferably by doing something strenuous. However, I'm prohibited by doctor's orders from doing anything like that, but I did grab my camera-bag, dressed up in the warmest clothes I could find and headed for - my car. This is some of the resulting photos. One might even call it a Fotosafari by car.
All the pictures were taken around a small fjord call Arefjord, not far from where I live. It is one of my favourite hunts for photos. There is always something to be found. Above you can see that the fjord has started to freeze and with the low sun it makes for some interesting effects. Even a transformer station might fit in. Perhaps.
The boathouses and cabins are closed, and boats have been put on dry land.
That is, not all of them.
So if you have a boat that you wish to moor, than here is the place for it.
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