London came and went. Even before I could digest it, reminisce in the warm memories and allow for the thoughts and the experience to settle in, I was packing again and heading for the slopes in southern Bavaria.
What a difference a weekend makes!
One weekend I was in an invigorating and pulsating city, full of life and power, the next I was standing on a quiet snow covered slope, the rich green confers, thick and abundant frosted with the white powder. London enlivened me, making me feel confident and inspired. Here, on this slope I was surrounded by nature’s beauty and the postcard perfection of the scenery around me should have made me feel free and liberated. Yet, as I looked down at my feet I was restrained by big heavy ski shoes and skis.
Just lugging my gear to the bottom of the slope was enough and I was ready to hit the spa for a bit of relaxation. Looking over to the lifts I felt intimidated and yearned for the whirlpool we left back at the hotel instead. I am not much of a skier. I ski, but not with a passion some of my friends have for this sport. I even enjoy it but I lack the drive to really want to enthusiastically keep at it.
I managed the first hurdle without making too much of a fool of myself and glided to the top of the slope on the tow lift. I had horror visions of trapping myself and being dragged halfway up the slope on my elbows and knees. Luckily, some other lady fell behind me and as all eyes were focused on her I was able to quickly adjust myself to look like I was born to ski. Phew!
Once on top of the slope the next challenge was getting back down and as my husband instructed and tried to motivate me, my head was filled with strange static making it hard to understand anything that was being said. All I could view was the very long, slightly steep way back down. I wish I could click my red skis and find myself lounging by the pool.
Soeren beamed at me and lunged forward - he shot down that hill fearlessly. I wish I was 10 years old again. With 10 fear does not exist - it seems. As a 40 year old mother, I was just brimming with fear. Fear for my son’s life and fear for my own life. Double whammy!
As I saw my husband slide elegantly past me, I hung my head, took a deep breath and ordered my brain to chant some mantra to take away the angst. My grip around the ski poles tightened, my eyes quickly outlining the easiest route, I hesitantly thrusted myself forward, the chanting in my head getting louder, and off I went.
The adrenaline pumped through me and I felt like a million dollars. I had survived the first run. Whether I looked good while I came down that hill is another question. I made my long S’s just like the instructor had taught me, imagining my belly was the light of a lighthouse and turning it left or right accordingly, then bringing my skis around and pulling my legs parallel to each other. The instructor also told me to think about everything else but skiing. That confused me! I was not exactly sure how not to think about skiing as I had to remind myself of each step I took. I chanted and as I was coming down the slope I realized the chanting in actual fact was Hindi songs. They started off in my head, as I picked up pace down the hill so did the chanting, becoming mumbles and finally by the time I got to the bottom I was singing fairly loudly.
We spent the first couple of days skiing in lovely weather and with each run I felt more comfortable. I still was not going to become a ski fanatic but at least I was coming down the slopes with more confidence. On the last day, I took one last look down the slope. It was cold and the icy wind blew snow into my face stinging my skin. The weather had turned and I was tired. I had decided to do my last run and head to the hotel’s sauna. I earned it!
Halfway down the slope I realized just how icy the slope was. That uneasiness I felt on the first day rose in the pit of my stomach again and as I turned my body to the left my skis hit a patch of ice and my legs decided to take a different route. I was unable to bring my skis together and as I tumbled my right ski got caught in the snow but my knee kept on twisting until I heard a hollow snap.
The snap was presumably my ACL tearing or the bone on the outer right knee cracking. I spent a larger part of last week getting scans and x-rays done and visiting my knee specialist. He happens to be one of the best in his field and Tom got both his knees done by him. So I am in good hands. I will be out for a while as my bone needs 4 weeks to heal in which I will be wearing a mobile brace. After this I will have the surgery to repair the ACL, which will need another 4-6 weeks to heal.
I limp around but am mobile and while I get frustrated at not being able to move fast enough, do things at my regular pace and dealing with the pain I am taking the advice of my friend Robin “slow down, breathe and heal”.
This is a heavenly dessert that will force the fastest of us to take a moment to slow down and linger on the flavors. There is flakey phyllo pastry, there is luscious and smooth custard all infused with warming spices of cardamom, cinnamon and vanilla and finally the elegance of orange bring it all together. This custard pie is based on the divine Greek or Maltese Galaktoboureko, a semolina-based custard dessert layered with phyllo pastry that will make you want to sink yourself into. I based this recipe on Peter’s Galaktoboureko - a post that has stuck to my mind from the first time I read it. Ruffles of phyllo pastry are drenched in the custard and then gently baked to give a crunchy and sublime dessert. The perfect dessert for your Easter meal!
In all this hustle I totally forgot to raise my glass with you all … last week my blog turned 7! Yes I’ve been around here doing this for the past 7 years and I cannot believe the crazy path What’s For Lunch, Honey? has taken me on. It’s been all very positive and mostly a lot of fun. Blogging has come such a long way since then, it’s amazing how many new and awesome blogs I discover on a weekly basis. I’d like to say a huge thanks to you … my readers and friends who have supported me and are a part of this space, some have been around from the early days! I hope you all enjoy this space as much as enjoy filling it with my words and images.
Did you miss the London Workshop? I’ll be hosting another styling and photography workshop in March here in Weimar. A package deal that includes tuition, accommodation, meals and a whole lot more - not to mention connecting with like-minded people and talking, taking and inhaling food, photography and styling for 2 days.
I have not had too much time to surf my favorite blogs and webistes lately. But I am thinking this will change soon as I spend more time resting the knee. I do have a few favorites this week and wanted to share them with you. Hope you enjoy browsing through them.
- Peter’s took me away with him on a lovely virtual weekend By The Sea Side
- I wanted to snuggle up in this Cozy Swedish Apartment
- A great way to take notes with these these adorable and colorful notebooks from The Magic Notebook. Lucky Weimar Workshop participants will each be receiving one.
- Nikole’s touching poem on the beauty of travel + southern italy with some stunning images
- Visual graphic: What is success?
- Color palette of the week a touch of South of France
- Quote of the week: Do it now ..
- In Darkness and Light with Jamie’s emotional post
You might like these creamy custard ideas from WFLH:
|Bostini Cream Pie||Chai Latte Cream||Crème Caramel - Chocolate and Raspberry|
All photographs and written content on What's For Lunch, Honey? © 2006-2012 Meeta Khurana Wolff unless otherwise indicated. | All rights reserved | Please Ask First