crazy revolution

it is time for the crazy revolution. why. because life is to short to sit and watch the days go by. its to short to worry about the things that happened yesterday. and it is far to exciting to get a clouded view of the fun that awaits. i am taking the happy road. life will get more crazy. i am throwing out the rule book of the average conformer and the rigid mindset of modern society. viva la revolution. viva le chef.

new look

the decision has been made to change our look. let us know what you think. you have to move with the changes. as they say. enjoy.

to my readers

hello and greetings to all the blog readers. here is a short run down of what is happening. montpellier is turning out to be the best time of my life. dispite being robbed life goes on at its normal pace. classes have gained momentum and it is a lot of fun. the structure of the classes are modular so we get written assignments and small exams every two weeks. sometimes we have presentations to do in between. we have had teachers and professors from around the world. german. french. brazilian. all experts in their field. with every course we do tastings. a lot of tastings. it is good and the learning curve is steap. but i am loving it. i have discovered that it is compulsory to do six months of the eighteen months of formal classes in another country. so it seems as if i will be spending next year this time in italy. either torino or milano. but time will tell seeing that there are other options too. apart from the academics. our class of ten has become a real unit. it is great fun to hang out with them and as we plan our holidays and trips around the wine areas of france and europe i can only see the next couple of months turning out to be the best years of my life. so keep reading. keep writing your comments. this is where it happens. salut. chef

tribute to swaer-ie

i have to mention my brother-in-law and the role he played in securring our saftey while everything was happening in barcelona. what should have been his weekend off and just relaxing turned out to be more work and more frustration for him. at least we got to cheers and sing while winning the world cup. so heres to the man of the hour. louis. a real captain. salut.

as it happened

i am staring out of the window. the train makes its way through the rough edges of the pyranees mountains. the catalonian coastline lies streched out to my right and i stare as the sun goes down over the mediteranian sea. i shake my head as the memories of the weekend stays in the front of my mind. i just does not want to let me go. what a weekend it has been. no words seem to fit the discription to word the feelings and emotions of the happenings that took place in the last fourty eight hours. where can i begin. what should have been a weekend of great excitement and celebration started out as a real nightmare. after not being able to find the place we booked to stay for the weekend we found ourselves driving circles through the streets of barcelona. all of a sudden two guys on a scooter pulls up next to the car and the one on the back signals that our rear tyre is flat. we pull over to changed the tyre. the same guy stops next to us saying that there is a mechanic just down the street if we need any help. we tell him no thanks and that we will be ok. he drives off and as we turn around the bags have been stolen from the car. it was not even five seconds. gone. laptop. cellphones. passports. even the infamous ipod. the one that survived the ordeal in the washing machine and the tumble dryer. the shock and the horror of those few moments after you realise what just went down is unbearable to think about. do you run. do you seacrh. do you call. who do you call. it is such a feeling of helplessness. clothes and things can be replaced. but it is the little things that you cherish that is not replaceable. so we got in the car and found our place. my brother in law was waiting for us at the appartment. we went to the agency to see if they can help us finding numbers to stop all the credit cards and rest. my problem was off course that most of my things were in french and it being a friday night every call i made was answered by fast speaking french people that i could not understand. utter helplessness. but eventually we managed to stop all. the drama was followed by not being able to find my sister that arrived on a later flight form london. she got on the wrong train and got off at the wrong station. we drove between mignight and two oclock in the morning from station to station in barcelona to find her. we eventually did. how i still dont know. it was the most remote place i have seen in my life. with the robbery of the afternoon still in my head. i was terrified for her safety. but all is well that ends well. the rest of the weekend had a bit of a cloud over it seeing that all the plans we had had to be re arranged so that the mess could be resolved. my parents had to reroute via madrid to get a temporary passport for my mother. so we had to get train tickets and change airplane tickets so that everybody could make it to their destination as palnned. so saturday was a bit of a waste and we got to know the station and police office of barcelona very well. a piece of advise. if you ever travel to barcelona. travel light. take the minimum. while we were in the police station there must have bee another thirty or fourty people that also got robbed in the last day. in hotels. in restaurants. in stations and airports. crazy. no wonder the officer behind the desk did not show much emotion when we arrived there early saturday morning trying to explain our situation. he just handed us a stack of forms and pointed towards a corner. next. but at least the mood of saturday started to change as we prepared for the rugby. world cup final. sa vs eng. believe it or not but we ended up watching the game in an english pub. my fault off course seeing that i thought it was irish. oops. we had good seats but realised our situation when the english army arrived. goodness me. what a sight. but after proudly singing out national anthem and being applauded by our rivals the game kicked off. well. the rest is history and now we have brag rights for the next four years! we celebrated our victory together with my moms birthday. the real reason for being in barcelona in the first place. well. i dont think the tapas bar will ever be the same again. with all the troubles forgotten we sang and laughted until late into the night. yes. the cava was good. happy birthday mom. our stay in barcelona ended with strolling around on sunday morning. we got our things and said our goodbyes. a weekend of mixed fellings and emotions. will barcelona see us again. i guess so. why not. one should not allow a bad experience to cloud your opinion of one of the most famous cities in the world. so as the train carved its way through the pyranees and up the cost to montpellier i had a good time to reflect and plan. where do i start. so much admin that awaits. but thats life i guess. all part of the learning curve. i guess the most important thing i learnt was that everything in life can be replaced. everything apart form human life. and looking back i guess that is the thing we cant thank our lucky stars. nobody got hurt. as the train pulled into gare st roch i breathed a sigh of relief. home. a warm feeling settled inside of me. jp and nuno was there when i arrived. they just laughed and shook their heads in disbelief as i told them the story while we drove back to the flat. another story for another day. what a life.

sound advise

heres to all of you that posses an ipod. two things never to do. put your ipod in the washing machine. two. then trying to compensate and fix the first problem by putting it it the tumble dryer. see picture. equals fried ipod. bummer. super shocker. no tunes. i will just have to sing.

rural france

spent this weekend in the mountains and forests of rural france. was perfect. the beauty of the landscape was astonishing. on friday i took the train to a small town in the counrty where my parents picked me up. was good to see them again. they are still traveling through europe. having the time of their lives. as they should. i can not think of two people who deserves it more. so we drove the thirty five kilometers to the stone cabin in about an hour. no easy drive this was. dad handled the left hand drive pretty well around the small lanes. what a legend he is. mom the back seat driver of note and watching them navigate themselves was a cry. on arrival the ambiance of the surroundings just swallowed me. it was breathtaking. perfect place to relax for the weekend. away from the city and the rat race. we had dinner with the other people. european friends of the family. a real little home coming n france it felt like. saturday morning we got up early. the planning was to drive through the gorge de tarn. this was only a fifty seven kilometer drive in the mountians but took us almost three hours. spectacular. the peace and tranquillity was too much to capture in words or even on film. we stopped often to absorb as much as we could. still did not manage to take it all in. the small ravine that followed all along the gorge had the perfect water for fly fishing and canoeing. the afternoon we went to see how the world famous roquefort cheeses are made. they took us fifty meters into the mountain into caves where these cheeses are made and matured. incredible. the presentation was magical. felt like having a cheese tasting in the kango caves. for those that dont know where that is. it is in south africa. that coming from someone that does not even like cheese. but now i like roquefort. yum yum. especially the real ones made from skaapmelk. back home we were all of a sudden surrounded by hunters and their dogs looking for wild boars. it was funny seeing that at that time i was sitting on the stoep reading the french version of asterix and obelix. the shots went off all around the cabin and dogs barking and bells clinging as what sounded like world war three was happening. the weekend was made perfect by the steak braai the evening followed by potjiekos that dad hammered together on sunday. it felt like home. it was good. it made me think of all the friends back home. a real home weekend it was. it made me realise how many great friends i have back home. with how many of them i would love to share these experiences. this weekend. the stone cabin. the ravine. the gorge. the hunters. the atmosphere. the peace. the joy of being out there.

my younger sister

every once in a while you get the opportunity to reflect. on life. on your situation. on all kinds of things. these moments are usually stimulated by events that stir a bit in the heart. this morning i had to see off a very good friend at la gare and it registered again some thoughts in me. i have always wondered what it would feel like to have a younger sister. somebody you always are on the look out for. to make sure she is ok. not getting hurt or heart broken. but being the youngest i never had that privilege. not until recently when i meet natalia. my new adopted younger colombian sister. funny and full of life. spontaneous and responsible. always ready for an adventure. trying new things. she is somebody that one can not easily forget. and seeing that her time in france has come to an end to it is again time to say goodbye to someone that has crept into your life and that will be hard to say goodbye to. funny how things work. a scary thought to know that someone you regard as a younger sister will be living on the other side of the globe. so these thoughts are as a tribute to nats. my baby sister.

portugal part two

waking up to the sound of a rooster. the smell of wine fermenting outside my bedroom window. i have fallen in love with portugal. perhaps it is because of the way i have been received and treated since i have arrived. but the douro valley with its all surrounding slopes and vineyards has a sense of mystery to it that i have never experienced before. you turn your head an all you see is vineyards. it is up and down. slopes and hills. it is simply magnificent. all that said my first day started being awoken by a rooster that did his thing at six in the morning. to be honest. i was not impressed. but my luck soon changed and the day began. and what a day it proved to be. after lying in for another hour or two the thing that awoken me was the smell of fermenting grape juice from the cellar below my window. the aromas of heaven. i was the best way to start any day. especially this one. the day progressed by me spending some time walking around the older part of the cellar and watching the bubbles rise and breaking through in the lagares. the smell of port filled my nostrils and it was a euphoric feeling. after breakfast and driving around a bit i relaxed on the terrace that overlooks the valley and the vineyard filled hills around the quinta. the sweet sense of serenity and peace is impossible to miss. the pace and attitude of live here is different. everybody knows when to do what and is not flustered by raised voice tones and aggressive speech. it is perfect harmony. what more can one ask for. dad and i then went for a cellar tour and port tasting. we were like children. the excitement was vibrant and i dont know who was more excited. dad or me. never the less the afternoon was magic. we tasted ten different ports. we tasted port that was over forty years old. they told us secrets and details that was evidently not the information enclosed to normal visitors. i felt privileged. and proud. and enlivened being there with my dad and talking about the wines with him. surely a day that will go down in history as one to remember. we laughed and had some serious discussions. shop talk philosophy and general enjoyment and pleasure for working with a product that made both of us feel alive inside. something that made the hair on your back stands up. it revives us. finally. the simple sense of walking into the cellar. smelling the different aromas and the thoughts that it evoked is an experience i will not trade for anything in this world.

portugal part one

the anticipation has been great. all the time i have been think and planning in my head for the five days that awaits me. so on sunday morning i got up earlier than necessary after sleeping my first night in my new bed. it was a good start to what should be a long and hopefully a peaceful relationship. but that was not the main focus. a long and interesting trip awaited me. bus. tram. train. stop-over. another train. back in the bus. and finally the aeroplane. good fun and all together eight hours to get from mp to porto. and all of it worth the trouble. to be honest i did not know about the changing trains and the bus i had to get to the airport. but thanks to my growing french vocabulary and still confidence to have a conversation with strangers i was directed towards the bus stop fifteen meters under the ground. what a spectacular sight that was. halfway to porto i realised or was not sure whether i had the necessary visa to enter portugal. but being me that did not faze me much. all just part of the experience. what a story if i would be deported back to france. but that would prove not to be necessary as i walked into portugal without anybody wanting to see my passport. i must have an honest face i guess. on the other side i was greeted by the welcoming arms of mom and dad. what a feeling.

back from the dead

well. after a long time away from the www i am back in the driving seat. sorry for the disappointment that you ha to suffer of not being able to read the blog in the time i was away. but be sure i will bring you up to speed of what has happened and what is happening.