Journal

MEDITERRANEAN LIFE,     FOOD     

MARKET DAY : SANTA MARIA MARKET IN MALLORCA, SPAIN

I love the town of Santa María del Camí and its namesake market. Locals simply refer to the place Santa María. 

There are many outdoor markets in Mallorca, almost every town has a weekly gathering in the main square. There is even an agricultural and livestock market (in Sineu) which I have yet to attend. A good friend of mine went one Saturday and unexpectedly came home with a donkey. She said she “simply couldn’t help it.” The adorable fella is now happily settled in her bucolic orange orchard up above Sóller. Lucky donkey.

The Santa María market happens every Sunday. Farmers and artisans sell fresh mediterranean produce, cheese, meats, flowers and more. I always buy honey, seasonal fruits, almonds. I wander through the aisles, soak up the weekend vibe and take photos. I can’t help that. Everything is so beautiful and so: bountiful! Sometimes there is music and we dance. What’s not to love?

JOURNAL,   EUROPE,   TIME OUT    

TIME OUT : NYBORG ISLAND, DENMARK

Sometimes the best adventure is just being in the moment. In this moment, I was tired. We had been traveling all summer. I had been in and out of lakes and rivers from Provence to Prague, Slovenia to Switzerland… you get the picture. While the kids jumped in and out of the cold Danish waters, I called a “time out” and let myself down on the dock rail (like a wet towel hung out to dry.) I remember thinking how amazing it was that I could balance there and yet feel completely relaxed, on the edge of sleep.

As I lay there, with my body draped across that plank of wood, I listened. I listened to the joyful squeals and splashes and laughter of my kids and my husband and my friends and my friends’ kids, only a few meters away but dancing, seemingly, somewhere off in the distance.

I have had many wonderful moments on this island, the home of a dear friend. But when I think “Nyborg” now, and when I think “Denmark, summer”… this is what comes back to me and hopefully, always will.

EUROPE,    ROAD TRIP,    FAMILY   

WHY I LOVE BUDAPEST, HUNGARY

I love Budapest. The cities (Buda and Pest) have super stylish, delicious eateries and a proud- and yet surprisingly young- vibe. We stayed in a great apartment which may be my favorite Airbnb experience yet. And, although it seems everyone is talking about Budapest, the place seems unspoilt by tourism. These are all reasons to love it. But I know why I really love Budapest: We laughed a lot there.

One evening stands out. We had an early summer dinner at Borkohnya and walked over to Gelato Rosa for a scoop of ice cream. There must have been 40 people waiting for a cone. This all had us wondering: “What’s so special about this ice cream? And – It had better be good!” We were bored and became silly in the line. By the time we reached the counter we were all “slap happy”.” Once my older son had his ice cream in hand he was on a roll, cracking us all up. At first, he handled the rose petal shaped ice cream like a genuine bouquet, allowing the “scent” to inspire him. Soon he was singing into the rose as if it were a microphone. This son, with not a shy bone in his body, continued to sing out as he walked along the avenue until he was in full performance mode. And there he was, belting food poetry in operatic style, with smiling eyes, to a growing audience of smiling eyes and laughter, in the great square of St. Stephen’s Basilica.

MEDITERRANEAN LIFE,    FOOD    

SPRING IN ANDALUCIA : ORANGES EVERYWHERE

Oranges are everywhere in Andalucía at this time of year. Juicy sweet and sour mandarinas and naranjas are dropping from trees lining narrow lanes and bustling avenues, painting groves along the highways and brightening local carmens (traditional, walled gardens of Andalucía). How lucky it seems to be Andalucian and live every spring under this citrus blanket! I love this painting “Gitana de la Naranja” by Julio Romero de Torres. And this poem by much loved Spanish writer Federico García Lorca who grew up near here:

LOLA

Under the orange-tree

she washes baby-clothes.

Her eyes of green

and voice of violet.

Ay, love,

under the orange-tree in bloom!

The water in the ditch

flowed, filled with light,

a sparrow chirped

in the little olive-tree.

Ay, love,

under the orange-tree in bloom!

Later, when Lola

has exhausted the soap,

young bullfighters will come.

Ay, love,

under the orange-tree in bloom!