Perfection

Memories of a beautiful dry and warm Autumn day, strolling and shopping with my sister and brother in the Nine Streets district, when they came to visit.

Retrospective #7: Reunion, Fate + Architecture

Christmas Day in Barcelona:

Parc Guell, Santa Maria del Mar Cathedral, Christmas lunch and escaping the oldies for a drink turned into one of cousins getting robbed without us even realising it.

Roasted pigeon and charcoaled spring onions: my Christmas lunch

The highs are high, the lows are low

It happened.

The holiday.

The amazing and random.

The discoveries.

The cosiness of being with familiar and loving people.

The thing that was a pleasant surprise that you couldn't have orchestrated even if you tried.

The moment you've been hoping would happen for months also eventuates.

After all the anticipation, it came and it went.

Then, the visitors leave. The alarm clock is back on. The familiar frustrations come flooding back. The uncertainty of 'what does it all mean?' wafts back onto your radar.

Now what?

The rearrangement of words

Sometimes, people say things or write things, and in normal circumstances, they sound offensive or hurtful.

But in a different context, they have the most beautiful intentions.

A note of encouragement from someone at home that I care about a lot, and obviously, cares a lot for me too:

"Enjoy your successes and stay away from us - It's doing you good."

Sani on a Sunny day!

My cousin, Sani, works on the Holland America cruiseliners, as a waiter.

Like me, he has a passion for food, and is a trained chef. I haven't seen him since my sister got married, about 5 years ago for about an hour, at best. The time before that was about 10 years before that, or maybe even 15 years before that. But I've seen his wife and son more recently (who are both lovely! I have a soft spot for his son, who's about 7 and going on 25!), last time I went back to Indonesia, for Christmas. Sani and I used to hang out a bit together when he was a teenager, and I was kid. He cooked me Spaghetti Bolognese once when he was in chef school, and I remember he struggled to find the right ingredients when he went shopping, since in this province/village where 42,000 people live, Western ingredients like spaghetti and tomato paste were quite hard to find.

"Does it taste good?" he peered at me, earnestly. "Like, you know, Italian?"

"It's great! Really, really, good Sani!" I declared, slurping the tubes of pasta and knodding.

He rang me today, out of the blue, his ship was docked in Amsterdam for the weekend, so I quickly cycled to meet him at the Amsterdam Passenger terminal, where we agreed if I wasn't there in half an hour, he should call me again.

Running late (as I do), I took a shortcut through Centraal Station's tram area, and peddled at breakneck speed to meet him, since he had such a short window of time to meet. He had to start work at 12.30pm.

Police often patrol Centraal station for renegade cyclists that think they can take on trams and pedestrian traffic, giving stern warnings about getting caught in tram tracks and bowling over pedestrians. Dodging through people hauling suitcases, and weaving between the masses, I was praying I wouldn't get caught, and I suddenly hear someone calling out my name.

I stop and do a U-turn, and it was him! The chances of me taking that shortcut, and him seeing me were really not that high, especially since we agreed that he would wait at the Passenger Terminal for me. I couldn't believe it.

"How did you recognise me? I was going so fast." I asked in disbelief, after I gave him a big hug.

He grinned. "I don't know. You just look just like your mother, I guess."

I took him somewhere close for breakfast. I decided on pancakes, and he decided the same.

"You know, this reminds me of the time you and your sister taught me how to make pancakes. In the village, when you were visiting once."

I vaguely recalled the instance. I must have been about 8 or 9.

I look at him and see the essence of the shy teenage kid that I used to hang out with with a wiser face, but the same kind smile. He must look at me and see the marginally taller version of the same loud mouth little girl that used to terrorise his street when I came to visit. It was a really beautiful moment to be there with him today.

Only the universe would have known that almost 20 years later, we would still be laughing over pancakes, but on the other side of the world.

Ah-maaaaaazing dinner

I just had the most amazing dinner with my auntie in Amsterdam's Old South.

She wanted to take a trip down memory lane because she used to live and work there, once upon a time, as an intern at a law firm, about 25 years ago.

We went to her old stomping ground, and along the walk of the high street, she she spotted a restaurant and said " That's where we are having dinner tonight." No old ties to it or anything, just saw it and clicked that she wanted to eat there.

Anyway, there were no menus (much to my embarrassment when I asked for one.) Only a wine list. The waitress explained that the menu was the same thing for everyone, all the time.

First course was a green salad with walnuts and mustard dressing. Second course was your choice of pan seared sole with french fries or medium rare entrecote with french fries. (Hello - it's Holland: french fries are another food group, not just a fast food thing.)

Then as you were almost finished that course you get another round of the same thing.

"Did she just say, you get another round of the second course???" I thought. Not wanting to make a fool of myself again, I just knodded and smiled, waiting for the magic to be brought to my table.

Oh my god. And magic it was. Paired with my organic sauvignon blanc from some blessed place in France, I was, literally, speechless.

And did I have seconds? Errrr....no brainer.

"I'll have more of EVERYTHING!" I almost declared loudly and triumphantly when the waiter brought more entrocote and sole to the table , asking if we would like more. But I resisted and politely murmured "Yes, that would be lovely, dank je wel."

Everything melted in my mouth. I have no idea what sort of sauce came with the entrecote, but it was green and could have been a salsa verde, but I believe it was green butter. Not garlic and parsley butter. Just butter. Disguised as a sauce.

And to top it off, I shared dessert with my aunt. A massive portion of île flottante (floating island), which I had never had before.

The website is fantastic and actually speaks volumes about the whole dining experience. Make sure you watch the flash slideshow of the pictures. It's like reliving a short trip to heaven. (select "diashow" on the homepage)

www.entrecote-et-les-dames.nl

Sea Snail soup, and Lurking angels: Brussels in 24 hours

Musings of a father who has lost confidence...

Me: (practicing my dutch in the car on the way to the airport)
Dad:Rani, Perhaps you should direct your energy to what should come naturally. I think you should just stick to learning Javanese if you can.
Me: Thanks for your vote of confidence Dad.

Aunty comes to town

My cousin Ayi and his wife Caroline have a three year old daughter called Tatiana.

She's a bit of a princess because she's the only child, and the only grandchild for both sets of granparents but she's a funny kid. Bright, a little demanding, but has heaps of 'spunk'.

My mum thinks she and I are heaps alike. Her parents think she and I have a 'good connection'.

She's a bit mixed up because her idols at the moment are the Virgin Mary, St Bernadette of Lourdes, and all the Disney Princesses; Arial, Sleeping Beauty, Cinderella, Snow White, Princess Jasmine, and Belle. Go figure.


She's also bi-linguil, so she speaks Indonesian and English.



The other day she asked her grandma if she could kiss her bedroom floor. She must have thought it was holy or something. Her grandma said " of course not", but she did it anyway.



She woke up the other night after her midday nap, and was in a really grumpy mood, and insisted we go to this suburb in Jakarta called Puncak. When we asked her what was there, and why we had to go there, she said "Don't ask stupid questions." Later, when we pressed her for more information, she then revealed, she "was expected at the Priest's birthday party."
Riiiiiight.


Ever since I came to town, she's gotten a bit attached to me, which is cute.


"Tante Rani! Watch me swim."


"Tante Rani! Come have a shower with me."


"Tante Rani! Sit here while I eat."


And she always wants to know "Why?"


"Why are the lights changing colour?"


"Why are you eating that?"


"Why is the dolphin playing with the little mermaid?"


We went out for some gelati last night at an Italian cafe, after I saw Barack's school. She and I shared a strawberry gelati together.

I love the look on her face as she tucks in to her gelati. Priceless.