Portugal, India, New York and Oslo in a week

I can see you, sitting there, staring at my headline, saying to yourselves, “that’s not possible, and even if it was, who’d be crazy enough to do it?” Relax, I have no intention of trying it. But my week did include bits of all of them.

It began last Wednesday night when I had dinner with a friend. I don’t know if you’re the same, but I tend to always end up in the same neighborhood when I go out to eat — the one I live in. Why we tend to fall back on what’s familiar I don’t know, but it sure does get boring after a while.

So we decided to venture further afield and go to a little family-run Portuguese restaurant she’s been to before. It’s called Rush Hour and it’s in the west end of Toronto, on Dufferin.

No, I don’t know how a Portuguese restaurant ended up with that

What is it about the Holidays?

Well, Chanukah and Christmas are over for another year and I’m sure I’m not the only one for whom this season triggers many memories.

Christmas wasn’t a holiday we celebrated when I was growing up, we didn’t have a tree or exchange gifts, but we certainly got into its joyful spirit. Ours was a close family, and we spent just about every day and evening together for that week. Good times, good food and much laughter is what I remember.

Like all kids, I looked forward to being out of school for a

Return engagement anyone?

Years ago, in Montreal, I went to an astrologer who told me I was an old soul, that this wasn’t my first life. Although I’m certainly no expert — not even close — and can’t even say I’ve done a lot of reading, or thinking, about reincarnation, it does interest me.

As a subject it came up many times when I was in India — especially in Varanasi — the spiritual capital of India.

It was there I learned that in Buddhism, Hinduism and Jainism,

Everything seems more lush this year …

Until this spring we haven’t had much precipitation in Toronto. In fact, it’s been several years with hardly any snow or rain. But although we had another mild winter this year, we have had more than our fair share of rain — too much, in fact; and it’s caused havoc. Not good.

Just the other day, though, I looked around and realized how gorgeous and healthy the trees, flowers and grass are looking. So clearly Mother Nature has enjoyed the dousing, even if the rest of us have not.

All our luxuriant foliage made me think back to my trip to India — and Kerala, in particular. Kerala is in the South, on

My Dalai Lama moment …

I can’t believe it’s been nine years since I went to India. One morning, out of the blue, I woke up and decided I was going and started planning a trip. Although sometimes I wonder just how “out of the blue” it was.

My mom had died about 10 months before and the last few years of her life weren’t easy on either of us. She never looked sick, she never
lost her spirit, her love of life, her energy or her sense of humour, but there were numerous visits
to doctors, numerous nights spent in emergency,

January 20 is upon us and I’m already missing the Obamas

Yes, yes, I know some of you may not feel the same way. More’s the pity. But before you start haranguing me, let me be clear.

Today is not about what he did or did not do as President of the United States. That discussion (debate) will have to wait for another day. Today is about the man, his wife and their children; and why they’ll be missed.

It’s probably fair to say his 2008 win was not predicted, at least not when he first announced his candidacy. How could it have been? The young, relative newcomer was hardly a household name, even after he delivered the keynote address at the 2004 Democratic National Convention, although he did

Never to be taken for granted …

A friend’s grandson just turned 1 and I went to his birthday party.  I was talking to her daughter’s (the baby’s mother) father-in-law and Ellen (my friend) said to him, “Fransi and I have known each other all our lives.”  He was intrigued and wanted to know more.

Our mothers met in the laundry room of the apartment building where they both lived, in Montreal.  I was an infant.  Her parents were newlyweds.  The

Of all the senses …

… the one I think is the most seductive, even more than ‘touch’, is our sense of smell. It is certainly the most evocative, at least it is for me. And it’s the most difficult to capture with words. Which is why writing copy for a perfume can be so challenging.

Last week I wrote about memories and some of the triggers that cause them. A friend of mine commented on how scents trigger memories for her. She’s so right. They do. Powerful ones, at that. And then when I was at the market last week one of my first stops was for bread. No sooner did I idle up to the counter, then the sales gal helping me
inhaled deeply, sighed gently, smiled broadly and asked me if I was wearing patchouli.

She was referring to my perfume.

Indeed, it does have patchouli in it.

In case you’re not familiar with it, it’s rather woodsy, or musky. Earthy. I happen to love it; and every fragrance I’ve ever been attracted to has had patchouli as an ingredient. Not that I knew that until I dabbed the last few droplets remaining in my bottle of eau de toilette behind my ears.

Quite a while ago I blogged about the horror of having to find a new perfume after Gucci sold the Saint Laurent

Last supper …

Talk about “food for thought”.  Last Friday’s WordPress Daily Prompt sure got my imagination going:  “Eat, drink and be merry for tomorrow we die.  The world is ending tomorrow!  Tell us about your last dinner — the food, your dining companions, the setting, the conversation.”  

Lots and lots of possibilities.  I’m overwhelmed with choices.  Where to start, where to start.

Hmmmm …

I think, first, I have to decide where this dinner should take place.  I know one thing.  Wherever it is, we have to be comfortable.  I love dinners that are slow and leisurely.  So comfy chairs are an absolute must.  Big enough to have room to move around in.  Good support for your back.  And soft enough to cushion

Day 319. Random Acts

I write about my trip to India a lot.  I was there for a month at the end of 2008.  And it was an extraordinary experience.  Despite everything going on in that country these days, I loved every minute of my trip.  Yesterday’s WordPress Daily Prompt “Moment of Kindness”, took me right back there, to one of our many road trips.

“Describe a moment of kindness, between you and someone else — loved one or complete stranger.”

This family came immediately to my mind.  But before I get into the story, there are a few things I have to explain.

Getting from “A” to “B” in India is never easy.  If you fly, expect lots of delays.  And crowds of people like you’ve never seen.  And don’t expect your choice of restaurants, bookstores, boutiques, and spas where you can while away a few hours.  There’s nothing to do, and there’s nowhere to go in India’s airports.  Count yourself lucky if you find somewhere to sit, while you wait.

So we didn’t fly very often.  Just a few times, when there was no other choice.

Train travel is something else again.  We took the train from Delhi to Agra.  Not because we had to.  Because we wanted the experience.  OMG!!  OMG!!  I don’t even know how to describe it to you.  Old, bare, dirty, stations.  Archaic, really. People