Day 2 - french, snail but no garlic!

Day 2

Wow two days and I'm still about :-) Although Mark would likely doubt my sanity as im listening to 'my boy lollipop', and am so blatently going to put it back on again after writing and have a bop about. Yay for releasing my inner crazy!

Anyway back to topic, this morning I had a lovely lie in 7am - but no gorgeous wet nose prodding me awake, or breakfast brought to me in bed (I know im spoilt). Still, its nice sleeping like a starfish and the kitchen is 4 steps away so even I can manage that in the morning. Yoghurt,  strawberries and honey with juice and coffee, can't believe I forgot to bring tea bags! You will notice a slightly healthy inclination...it soon ends.

As part of French living I thought I would try doing yoga in the mornings. Well the overly bendy cartoon lady on the app put me to shame, not helped by my daft decision to try and do it all on my bed, as there is very little floor space. Whacked my arms on the ceiling fan, almost fell off the back of the bed attempting downward dog and my half bend is the same as my full bend (supposedly heads can touch your knees - not on my body!). On the floor I may have uaed extra muscles trying not to knock myself unconcious by falling off the bed. Tomorrow I  will try doing this yoga malarkey outside once it warms up.

Next challenge was a potter about exploring my locality. I had decided to save up some excitement and not permitted myself to walk left out of my studio (thats tomorrows fun). Turning right was a great idea as I found thr market, which had an equal measure of ripped off branded clothing and french food. Despite knowing so little French its embarressing, I found an impromptu game of charades enabled me to buy a small bush for the garden, some lillies ( to mariarise the studio) and half  French baguette.  Still I felt very bad not being able to talk properly so made a concerted effort to study my french book.

Hmm happy learning while sat in a bikini on a swing chair, munching heavenly fig and walnut cheese with crusty bread. With hindsight I should have used the cheese as a reward, not a constant food source. At this rate I will look like a cheesy baguette - oh wait long and thin! Great! I will continue munching, I can put up with being smelly :-)
The afternoon was rather more dramatic; the sun had moved so I decided to get the garden furniture out. This was fine except the upside down table had water in it so I tried to balance it out of the door way. You guessed it, I dropped it, water everywhere and worse, I had knocked a snail of his wall. Closer inspection made me realise his shell was slightly damaged. He refused to grip his wall, so I decided he had a concussion and took him to snail hospital (plant pot with yummy grass in it). I later found him happily munching so don't feel as bad.

So ive spent most of the day talking a maria version of french to Madame Crutchley (lovely lady don't you know), fell asleep in the sun ( never a good idea!). Realised that my distant memory of having a tan is more likely my freckles gathering for a random rave (bopping away to my boy lollipop, like the rest of me), and despite getting the milk bottles out they have an in built immunity to sun, so I'm going to come home looking like an upside down latte.

Shock horror I also did some work, and was happy to hear we had two new practioners. Gail, one does baby yoga! Have you made one yet? :-)

Tonight im going to curl up with my book and get an early night. Unless the french for sex in the beach cocktail is Vous avez une Sex a la plage erm...cocktail?  I really must add the last word or else find myself in right mischief!

Bonsoir, grand hug xxx

Day 2 am - je ne par palle francais

Bonjour,

Well thats as far as my french goes. I am quickly learning a few realities of being a Maria in france:

• Marias can be silent for more than 5 mins - especially when they can't speak the local language
• Marias love sunbathing on a swing chair - mini adrenaline junkie :-)
• Maria s should have bought a friend or long 'back sunscreen applying hand' thing - expect lobster or milk bottle back when I return
• Fig and walnut cheese with fresh crusty bread should be used as a reward system for learning French,  not as a constant food source while living in France
• Doing yoga on the bed because the floor is too small results in banging arms on fan - ouch! Plus almost falling off when balancing on one leg. Plus its much harder in general.  Basically just a bad idea...

Anyway  back to that french book...

Day 1 - Arghh! Driving in France and odd bed linen

Day 1

I have arrived! With only minor misshaps :-)

After a rediculously early start, made better with left over croissants for the journey to Gatwick ( with far too much flaky goodness left in the car instead of my belly, also congrats to car for making it to 100, 000 we were very worried you wouldn't), my flight was delayed thus allowing me extra sleepy time. Another plus was that this delayed the inevitable driving in France on my own for the first time.

The lovely man at the car shop very patiently explained the car and journey before gingerly handing over the keys (he even reversed it for me so I only had to go forward). I obviously wasn't looking or sounding confident. Anyway he was right to be worried as I bumped the car into a low concrete barrier while trying to leave the car park. Fortunately my little Citroen is made of strong stuff and wasnt affected. I then did a tour of the airport obviously forgetting the directions the man had told me. Good driving practise,  especially as when I first got in, I had exclaimed in horror 'oh no there is no gear stick or handbrake!', oh wait there it is on my right - how odd!'. Despite this incompetence I drove at snail pace, talking myself through every basic element of driving, until I got comfy and started singing my numbers in French. Although I think I may have started to make it up after 30 :-)

My little studio is just as I remember, tiny but lovely.  After another fun trip in the car, playing on round abouts, I found a super market, sorted a new phone number, internet, bed linen, towel and food. All very productive.

However on the issue of bed linen, it is very odd. Well I suppose its my own fault for not understanding the language but its a good guess to think largest packet would be duvet cover, medium packet is sheet and smallest is pillows? Hmm well only half right. What I actully bought is a sheet (great), huge giant sheet (what! Why, what purpose?) and a long sausage tube that I guessed you put two pillows in, thus forcing you to share the pillows rather than steal them in the night? Hmmm these French are too romantic. Which reminds me, whereas in Britain we have a drop of point, in france they call it the Kiss and Drop point. Thus depending on how sceptical you are, you are either encouraged to be romantically slushy when saying au reviour or this is the official 'your dumped spot'.

Anyway, Ive survived my first night and now have to decide what to do with myself for  month!

I promise to add photos to blogs when I get back, having forgotten my camera to computer lead.

Keep in touch xxx

Sold to the highest bidder - 6,000 Camels!

Well finally, my last holiday of the month - Marrakesh!

For whatever reason I have been desperate to visit Marrakesh for a couple of years and despite the pouring rain it did not disappoint ( the rain was typical Maria luck; 2 days later it was 25 degrees and brilliantly sunny!).

We arrived relatively late in the evening, and ignoring our hosts fears that we would get lost, decided to instantly immerse ourselves in the hubbub. Within 2 hours we had pottered about the main market, caused a fight between two henna ladies, got my name and other squiggles written in henna on my hand (which I later found out will last a month!) and almost got sold off to an Arab in return for 6,000 camels. The cheaper option was to sacrifice just my eyes in return for 1,000 camels. Fortunately for Mark and myself, Paul resisted his temptation to open a novelty camel park, by selling his 'daughter', and I was returned safely and in one piece. Dad I can only presume he was going to share some of the camel profits with you?

Anyway it is a Paul tradition to start all holidays with a cocktail, and he was already ahead of me, having started in earnest on the plane with a Bloody Mary (YUK!). Well while in Rome and all that jazz, I decided to up the game and raised a glass of 'Sex on the Beach' - to holidays with great friends! Then back through the maze to our gorgeous little Riad Delfini (left, right at the bins, left at the cats, right under the arch, left, left erm left? anyway we found it)

I woke to the sound of birds (no not cockerels, just random squawky birds) and then had the dawning realisation that the other sound was pouring rain...oh well! I should note Paul had warned me the previous night that I would likely be woken by the many 'calls to prayer' at dawn. Nope not me...I slept right through all that :)

At a little cafe, dripping wet and still smiling

I had been my usual overly optimistic (impractical) self and not packed a coat, umbrella, or single item of warm clothing, and thus was thankful when the rain ceased. Ignoring the obvious chance it might return, I ventured out in a long summer dress, and crochet cardigan. I then had Paul constantly commenting on how cold I must be (he was wearing trousers, shirt, jumper and leather coat); but I adamantly refused to confess that indeed the giant goosebumps, dripping wet dress and chattering teeth were indeed indicators of being cold. Instead I happily pottered about in the puddles, huddled under a new umbrella (all umbrella's in Marrakesh are blue, chequered and automatic) and smiled at the 'experience' of it all. Everything seems rose tinted when you are on holiday. I'm sure I would have moaned at least a little had I been in the same predicament at home.

Many of the locals are very happy to guide you around, which can be a little irritating, if you are the sort who likes to discover things for themselves (rather than be wrongly guided and then expected to pay for the privilege), but in fairness to one, he told us about the Jewish market and I loved it. The Jewish market is supposedly only on for 1 week of the year and the traders of the main square go there to buy their wares from the Jewish traders who have brought their goods in from the Atlas Mountains. Honestly this could be true, or more likely a weave of lies. Either way it was far more ramshackle, and certainly looked more authentic, with lots of locals and no care for basic things, like a non leaking roof, order, or a traffic system for the donkeys. I was in my element and thoroughly enjoyed weaving through the stalls and ducking into ever smaller alleyways only to have to retrace our steps. Certainly if you visit, I hope the Jewish Market is on and you are able to experience it.

Wonderful hustle and bustle

I know I shouldnt but I'm going to get a little 'worky' and must say, that if you ever want an example of great sales technique, go haggle on the markets. I found it hugely satisfying to hear them run through the same techniques I have used in the past. They have a cheeky charm, and know when to play hardball. The prices are certainly hugely inflated for the tourists, but then they know how gullible we can be. In the case of the Jewish market we so enjoyed the experience of it, I know we most certainly got 'ripped off'. But then hey, what is a relatively small amount to us, can really make their day, and I personally can't help but reward great sales technique. I made sure they worked hard for my money, and left smiling :)

Mr Spice Man from the Atlas Mountains

Amongst the things I never knew I needed are:

• Amber (for your knicker drawer - in case you get ran over by a bus and the doctor expects clean and amber smelling knickers?)
• Mixed herb tea - lots of big leaves that requires lots of sugar (not included) in order to taste nice
• Jasmine Balls - look strikingly like something I dung beetle would create but actually a home freshener
• Lipstick - made of poppy flowers, bright red on a terracotta disk
• Annis Tooth Picks - with free Annis seeds that fall out all over your clothes
• Pumice thing - terracotta disk with a funky pattern on it that should sort your feet out
• Two pashminas that I could have bought from Primark for a tenth of the price

Having fun dressing up

Anyway back on topic, this is really a city walking holiday and regardless of the rain, we walked for hours and finally weaved our way back to the raid. I was personally glad to warm up with a hot bath, which was dug into a single block of marble, though actually too small to fit in - again it didn't seem to matter that I had to take in in turns to wash each half of my body, and spent most of the time sitting with my feet stretching vertically up the wall or dangling out of the bath). We then ventured out again to another lovely restaurant, which due to its location, they sent a guide to collect us, walk us to the restaurant and then take us home again. This is a city that really hides it gems, the outside of the buildings often look so run down, identical and basic, but you have no idea what is within. We would have been very lucky to stumble across either of the great restaurants we visited,  and so were very thankful for the guide.

I was knackered and stuffed full of tagine and local puddings by the time we got back, and fell happily into dream land. Our final morning was a sunny one, yay! I even got a tiny strip of sun burn on my arm - proof I have had a hot holiday!!! Though not enough to justify not having another hot holiday (or at least trying for one). Having spent far too long in a shop seriously haggling the price down on a painting, that was realistically far too big, bright and unlikely to be of a subject matter Mark would want in our house. I forced myself away and made our way to the square which was a buzz with people, and looked even nicer in the sun. We took the opportunity to eat more local pastries, drink mint tea and while away the morning people watching. This you could happily do for hours. p.s. I still think of that painting :( Art is an addiction and I could do with a bigger house / own gallery :)

There were lots of orange stalls - and they were massive juice things

The main square

The dried fruit man

To sum it up, I smile every time I think of Marrakesh. It really captured me, and I would love to return. It is a joy to be immersed in!

Mancunian Mischief...

My second holiday of the month and I travelled up north to see my gorgeous little Goddaughter Myla and her ever lovely mum Juliana.

Now what are three girlies to do expect eat lots of biscuits, talk a great deal and hit the shops in search of shoes (and more necessary household items)?

It is always a joy to see them, and at last I have some lovely little pics of Myla:

Giggles

Pudsey look a like

Sleepy head tries a new method of feeding herself. I guess she hoped her pores would soak it up?

Yummy mummy, sharing a hot chocolate - the sacrifices parents have to make!

Ahh hugs from the cutie :-)

 

Oh and how could I resist adding one of little Ella masquerading as Myla (sorry it is on the wonk)

 

Marvellous Holiday Mischief - Finnish Fun

Yay, I finally spread my little wings and managed to cram 3 holidays into March! I'm certainly making up for lost time :) You should know by now, to grab a coffee and some biscuits because I cant help but whitter on, even when I'm writing....

Finland

So after 2 years of trying to arrange a holiday to a wonderfully warm place like Marrakesh with my friend Ele, she tells me she is in Vaasa, Finland for a week with work, and on the spur, I decide to join her! Of all the places to choose, freezy Finland was not the obvious choice, but this proved a great example, that the most important aspect of any holiday is the company.

So what Finnish mischief....? Well really we were very well behaved...boring I know...but it was work...well ok, I confess, by Thursday I had let my hair down. Ele did her hour of work, and the rest of the week we were spoilt rotten by the lovely Johan and Sauli. I hope we contributed to their 'project', they certainly entertained us very well, with amusing tales, great trips about the town and surrounding areas, food and alcohol galore (gosh the Finnish can drink!), and a sauna almost everyday.

So before I get to the messy hair down bit (which is likely the only bit you are interested in), lets go through the highlights:

Visiting the frozen sea at sunset - stunning and very odd to be walking on water

Freezy cuddles on the sea

Ele experiencing her first snow angel! 

 

I joined in too, and we were both freezing afterwards, only to find out that Johans car had got stuck in the snow, so we had to push it out. Hmm metal plus no gloves in -10 degrees. I honestly thought my pinki finger had frost bite :)

Fortunately we had a sauna in our hotel room, so soon warmed up! Luxury!!! Oh yes and I do remember my first ever lobster dinner...I could really get used to Finnish hospitality.

I've already forgotten the order of the days/weeks activities, but I think the following day included:

Unusual sculpture on the sea, at a restaurant run by a french/belguim chap

Drinks with Suali (left) and Johan (right)

Meeting up with Ele's lovely friend Ino (this is very unlikely to be the correct spelling - sorry)

As a side note, do remember to collect your pennies before you head to Finland for a booze up - ouch!

Oh gosh and its Thursday already! So yes we drove to Tampere. I was constantly looking out for Moose (I kicking myself for missing one on Tuesday - well I did see a moose leg but not sure that really counts) and Ele was trying catch up on sleep having had about 4 hours sleep the night before (naughty stop out :P ). I had foolishly enlightened Sauli and Johan to the British tradition of Pub Crawls, and thus this was the plan, with hilarious results:

Being the cultured critters we are, we decided to do a little cheese and wine tasting before we hit the pubs. I can concur that 'Plan B' is a wonderfully full bodied red wine, and soft cheese is yummy is various forms.

 

Sadly we followed this with tequila and champagne...

erm...slightly Norfolk love here

With 2 glasses of wine, 2 tequilas and 1 glass of champagne in me I found everything funny, regardless of the reality

By the third pub, it was cigars all round

Ele was onto her third pull of the evening - she is honestly the best man magnet I know!

Gosh I look tipsy! This is an innocent method of keeping warm in -16 degrees

Well anyway we made it back to the hotel at 5am, had an interesting 'special' surprise from Sauli (thanks I will never look at the Russian flag in the same way), and escaped back to our room, for all of 4 hours sleep. God knows how the boys got up and attended a meeting at 9am. We were like zombies, but still looked like our mischievous selves at breakfast!

p.s. I was getting into the Rugby mood - yay we thrashed them!!! Just had to say it :-)

Anyway, all in all it was an amazing holiday, I would certainly recommend it and go back again. Fingers crossed Johan and Sauli make it to Norwich sometime - for the Norwich Project (god that is going to be messy).

Oh what a matted web we weave in the face of evil ostriches

So how many of you are going to be surprised that I have gone and got myself in a muddle of mischief - all because of a dose of bad cold and an evil emu-ostrich type creature? Well anyway, I have....

A few of you might have noticed that I have taken on a rather Rapunzial look - my thin fairly long locks meta morphing over night into a one huge thick plait of blond hair, traipsing its way down my back. The reason for this was blatantly a lack of patience and the usual woman's logic of always wanting what they haven't got. In three years my hair had continued it slow journey towards my shoulders, and was looking reasonably happy with itself. Whoop went the hair - a collar bone, I've heard the next stop is titties! Then evil Maria swoops in with total disregard for my natural hairs effort and takes all the fun out of it by stating 'sod the titties these extensions have their mind set on reaching my belly button'.

Well all was well. I could be seen swooshing, plaiting, curling and increasingly tying myself up in knots.The latter became rather a bug bear, but the continual need to brush or else tie it up was worth it for that luscious thick length (gosh the end of that sentence sounds awful - you know I'm still talking about my hair...right!?).

Then one day when poor little Maria was struck down with a cold, and whisked away to the land of nod. Happily playing in the cake fields with a battenburg in one hand and a Victoria sponge in the other, she skipped with shear Day Nurse delight. Until....cake land started to crumble away, my cakey goodness disappeared from my hands and not into my belly. Instead, and I apologise that the next bit is sketchy and down right odd, I am rather randomly in a street I don't know, being told by a man I don't know, that it was not me that saved the children, but him. The man points down the street to another man lying scarves on the road. Each scarf saves a child's life. Not to be outdone I spot a child in a car, grab the child and wrap my scarf around it.

Then out of nowhere a giant emu/ostrich creature appears and starts chasing us (the child and I). I run into a house, where the evil bird pecks the poor child, killing it instantly (please let me still babysit children after reading this). I then notice my family are all piled into one room with the eggs of the evil emu-ostrich. I run to the bathroom, still being chased and then appear on the street; a busy inter junction. I turn to the emu-ostrich and pointing to a church in the middle of the junction, say 'Jesus won't be happy with you'. The emu-ostrich laughs and says 'Ha Jesus, he still lives with his dad'. Then suddenly like one of those superman films, there is a rush of air, as if someone is running really fast. I am left to presume it is Jesus, running round and round the emu-ostrich bitch slapping him until he dies. And then I wake...

OK so as odd dreams go, that was pretty epic, and I haven't a clue what it all means. Fortunately I think it is highly unlikely to happen in real life, so please don't hide your children away from me, and no I haven't found the light and started singing hallelujah to Jesus. Although I am quite impressed with the bitch slapping.

The point of all this? Well having not really planned to have a horrific nightmare, I had not tied my hair up before going to bed, despite it being damp (a must if you ever have extensions). With all my running, shaking my head, and general unease, when I woke I literally looked like worzel gummage. My hair was a series of matted rat tails. Rightly or wrongly I hopped in the shower, loaded it with conditioner and started trying to brush it out. In my naivety I rather hoped in a worse case scenario I could just remove the extensions and all would be OK.

Nope...bless him Mark spent 2 hours cutting my weave out of my hair (and did a brilliant job), but my natural hair, under the stress of being braided and caught up in the extensions, had matted just as much. So I am now left with lovely long locks at the front and a matted mass at the back. Instinct told me I was in trouble...matted dog fur just gets chopped off....surely I wasn't going to have to do the same? After a quick google, poured loads of vegetable oil over my hair, mark bought me some detangler and we set about teasing the hair apart. A further hour in, neither of us had managed to detangle more than 2 cms. I confess having waited so long for my hair to grow, I was upset and slightly panicked. The matting is about a cm from my scalp...so you all know what that means...

It's 3am, I've left a message on my hairdressers phone, begging for an emergency appointment, and in my final hours of long hair, instead of caressing it and telling it soothing tales of hair follicle heaven and deep moisturising baths. I am pretending it is already gone. I am mentally (or at least at this point I think I am) ready for my biggest transformation.

I am telling you now, I am not interested in honest responses to the inevitable photo of my new hairstyle. If you are a friend you will accept that I have 7 years until my hair grows back to the same length again and just tell me what I want to hear..."Oh wow, that looks great, it suits you so much better than the long hair, what a stroke of luck - you look amazing!"

Oh and p.s. For all of those considering hair extensions...arn't you glad I have done the stupid deed on your behalf. Patience is indeed a virtue :)