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Awesome – Boy was I glad I went. Check this out.

Pity the Lady in the Market Stall


My daughter is a chef – after 16 years of working in kitchens and selling cheese in Toronto, Kingston, Boston, New Orleans, London – and learning to take a pig from pig to sausage in the middle of all that – she decided that London needed British style air cured sausages. High end, gloriously artisinal sausages that would uniquely reflect the heritage and personality of Great Britian!

Here is her description of herself from her website at http://www.Curedmeats.london

Our Managing Director, Pork Whisperer and Fearless Heroine is Adrienne Eiser Treeby. Guided by her commitment to good food and good ethics Adrienne has been in turns a Chef, an Apprentice and a Cheesemonger. After putting in fourteen years working behind the stoves at some of the world’s most prestigious restaurants (in three different countries, no less!), two years learning how to make cured meats at the knee of a Master Salumiere and a further two years getting to know the artisanal London food scene with Neal’s Yard Dairy, we’re pretty glad to have her at the helm.

And at the helm she most certainly is! The helm, the butcher tables, the accounting desk, AP, AR, and saleswoman. Plus she’s running market stalls at various markets around London – getting her fabulous sausages known in the world.

Or as I told one customer – making sure they all go to good homes.

So – what am I doing in a market stall? Ah – that’s an interesting story.

The Market culture in London is quite remarkable. There are markets – groups of vendors under canvas tents with portable tables and displays – all over London. They pop-up in the morning, run until around 3:00 PM on average – and then disapear without a trace by 4:00 PM. Depending on the market – they can be daily, weekly, monthly – or apparently totally at random. The unifying idea is that the vendors pay the organizers to be at the market, and folks local to that location come to buy their groceries at these markets. This is in addition to shopping at the local grocery store of course.

One immediately wonders if the abundance of grocery stores is going to impact this scene any time soon – or is the clearly thriving market scene taking business away from the grocery stores? The interesting thing – the grocery stores and even some ‘fast-food restaurants’ are moving more and more toward pre-packged, clarly labeled food items, while the market scene is completely different. There is little in the way of packaging – and labels are few and far between. At the markets – ones sells on taste.

Which brings me to my job – “Want to taste my daugher’s Sausage?” or the less rude alternative – “Want to taste the suasuage my daughter makes in South London?”
So – for the past 14 days – straight – I’ve been standing in front of a glorious display of my daughter’s suasuages – and some of the wonderful similarly artistian meats her friends have ‘cooked’ up – asking folks to take a taste. The good news – once they taste – they generally buy. The bad news – at some markets – the Fenchurch station is a great example – the regjection rate “Nope – don’t want to taste” is horridly high.

It makes for a long hard day.

I guess it’s better for them not to taste if they would never want to buy under any circumstances – but after a few hundred rejections – I’m hard put to stay smily!

But – I shoulder on.

It’s a job – someone has to do it.

“Want to taste my dauther’s sausages?”

Signing off for now – the Soup Lady.

We sleep in the Stables –


I’m not joking – we are really staying in a Horse Barn very close to Prague in the Czech Republic.

We left Montreal for Prague what feels like months ago – but was only the day before Yesterday. Travel is tough on aging bodies – and long air flights in sub-economy is not the stuff of luxury and relaxation. But given my lowly status – I faired pretty well.

I went on line to check in – and decided to ‘change seats’ – just to see if magically a free upgrade to business or first class with better food, nicer service, and a bed would happen.

Nope. Lowly cheap economy is where I was doomed to be.

But – I did notice that the back 4 rows of the air craft – middle section – were empty. Humm. If I take one of those seats – maybe I’ll have the row to myself.

SCORE!

So I did, and I did. I watched a great movie – Mr. Holmes – you should see it – ate a lousy dinner – jokingly described as an elegant chicken dish with heritage rice and a rich hand picked tomato sauce, served with a fresh salad, hot roll with virgin butter, and a rich chocolate cake, layed with love and 4 different types of chocolate. Would you like water with that?

In reality – it was mystery chicken in a plastic dish with plastic cutlery, a square of semi-fresh chocolate cake (highlight of the meal), a salad that might have been fresh in January, and I’ll agree – a hot roll. And yes – I’ll have water with that.

But it’s not about the food – it’s about the 4 seats in a row that were mine, Mine, MINE!

I ate, watched my movie – and then laid down to sleep. I know I slept because my dinner dishes disappeared – and a ‘breakfast bread’ in plastic wrap appeared when I woke up. Easiest long flight ever.

Unfortunately – I didn’t fare as well on the next leg – from Franfurt to Prague. Either the time change got to me or that mystery meat was a deadly error – but my stomack was in serious knots by the time the plane had landed and we’d found the rental car place. We drove about 15 minutes to our hotel – and I was so seriously sick – the hotel owner took pity on me and put me in the only room that had been cleaned. What did I care – I sunk into bed – and tried hard to make myself feel better.

Several hours later – much restored – I arose – and swore off mystery chicken on airlines forever. And finaly – got to explore my location.

We’re at the Dvur Hoffmeister in Cicovice, Czech Republic – it’s a small Pensionne 10 minutes from the Prague airport  – just 7 rooms and a restaurant and a bar attached to the biggest horse training center I’ve ever seen. The training stable is amazing. It’s spotless clean – and filled with glorious horses. I feel in total love with a giant sweet heart of a horse – He’s what’s known here as a KWPN – Dutch Warmblooded Show Horse – and he’s huge! Seriously huge. My husband, Victor, stook next to him – and his head is probably 4 times larger than Victor’s head. And at 6′ – Victor could not see over his back. Huge.

According to Ria Hoffmeisterova – she’s the gal that runs the stable – and the sister of Ava Hoffmesiterova – the gal who runs the restaurant and Pennsione – and the daughters of the owner of the Dorf Hoffmeister – this horse is owned by an 18 year old gal who is on the Czech National Jumping team. No kidding.

Beautiful Horse.

Anyway – the stable has over 40 horses – ponies to huge jumpers like my friend, two indoor areans – one huge for jumping, one smaller Yurt shapped one for doing laps, at least 2 huge outdoor arenas, multiple outdoor pasture areas, at least 5 different stable areas for horss – we’re sleeping over one of these – a horse washing room that has a sunlamp section for ‘drying’ the hose – and a horse Gym!

I spotted the Ria leading a horse into what seemed to be a small – open at both ends – trailer. But it wasn’t a trailer – it was a treadmill for horses! No TV to watch – I guess it must get pretty boring, but the horse is lead inside, tied to the front bar, and the treadmill started. And the horse gets his exercise. Seriously. You ever heard of such a thing before?

Another odd thing – and maybe this is related to the fact that this is a super fancy horse stable – all the horses – every single one – had a blanket on. Big thick things, that fastened around the horse’s body – covering the butt as well as the entire body. And even when they were riding the horses in the arena area – they kept the blankets on the horses. just rolled a bit back to allow room for the tiny English saddles. Victor thinks it might be to keep them from growing winter coats.

Not that it is that cold here – maybe 45 degrees – warm by Montral Standards – but then the stables aren’t heated. In fact – they are interesting in themselves. I’ve seen lots of stables before – but these are the first I’ve seen with windows. And the horses seem to love standing with their heads out the windows – watching the action in the courtyards. To enter and leave their stalls – there are the traditional stall grates and fences – but every single stall had a window on the opposite wall – room with a view – for the horses!

We wandered freely around the space – watched the young ladies taking care of their ponies – exercising them, washing their feet, general stable stuff. There was no one working on jumping that we got to see – but it’s clear this is a serious place for training – and our host told us that this is the home to one of the National Level Training Schools for Jumpers in Czech.

Not surprised – it’s glorious.

Enough about the stable – on to the food and the rooms.

First – the food.

Victor booked us here because it was very close to the airport – and had good reviews. Well – the food totally justified the reviews. We ate dinner in the bar – the restaurant was reserved for a large party (more on that later) – but they offered us the full menu. I had octopus salad – made with spicy sausage – it was outstanding, and a su-vide preperation of pork belly that was also delicious. The pork meat was yummy- and the fat had been hard fried to a delightful crispness. Victor had a goat cheese appetizer that he thought excellent, and a deer filet dish that he also approved of. I thought my choices were better though. The only disappointment was dessert. I ordered a pear tart tatine – and I expected a tart – but it was deconstructed – so there was too much pear to pastry in my opinion. But I ate it all – so it couldn’t have been that bad.

Now the Lodging

There are just 7 rooms – and we were lucky enough to stay in 2 of them. The first was glorious. The walls leading up the winding stone staircase was filled with paintings and prints by surrealistic artisis – including Chagal, Dali, and others. Mostly sketches of course – but still. The room was ‘over the bar’ – and it was huge. Giant oversized bathroom with double sinks, and a deep European style tub, The room had a king sized 4 postered bed wtih draps tied back on all 4 sides, a giant sofa and arm chairs, and room to wander. The floor boards were at least 18″ wide – clearly old lumber, loving re-furbished to a high gloss.

The bed had those traditional European feather covers – two of them – once for each sleeper. Why they get folded sideways I don’t know – but opened up and turned 90 degress they are very comfortable. But who noticed – I was feeling so ill I just sank into the bed and pretended I wasn’t dead.

The bad news – this was supposed to be our room – but there was going to be a party that night in the bar – with a DJ going till 2:00 AM. And our host suggested that maybe – despite the beauty of the room – we’d be happier in a room that was smaller – but would be quiet.

Which is why we’re sleeping over the horse stable. There are 3 rooms loving rebuilt with lovely grohe faucets and comfy beds, huge sofas and TVs over the Stables. We walk past the horses – who lean out their windows to give us warm sniffs – up a metal staircase and into our hallway. Once in the hall – the space is modern and lovely and clean – and there’s no obvious evidence that you are in fact – above a stable. Our room – while not nearly as over the top as the first is quite comfortable – and our tub is a jetted double seating deep bather. It’s bath time tonight!

As for being over the stables – Except for the occasional horse moving around his paddock and the noise of the staff closing the big doors to the stables at around 6:00 PM – and I’m guessing we’ll hear them being opened tomorrow morning – but for now – all is dark, quiet, and peaceful.

Signing off to go snuggle back in bed.

The Soup Lady

Recognizing Out-standing Customer Service when you get it


Delta Rocks

I travel a fair bit. Ok – that’s possibly a lie – maybe I qualify as ‘travels a lot’. It’s hard to judge, as far as I know the airlines don’t publicly share stats on frequent travelers. I do know that among the aproximately 100 folks I know the travel patterns of – I rank #1 for most trips, followed closely by my husband.

I’m not in the travel industry – so I’d guess they accumulate more travel miles than I possibly could and I don’t travel for business – or to commute from home to work – I am officially still fully employed in IT close to my home in Montreal – but still – I do travel a lot.

In any case – I feel capable of recognizing outstanding service when I experience it – and I just had an ‘outstanding’ guest service experience.

To draw the picture – I’m on a Delta flight heading south – one of those tiny commuter planes with faux leather seats, moderate head room (thank goodness) – and overhead storage on both sides of the plane. This compares quite favorably with planes with almost no head room (at 5’4″ you wouldn’t think I’d notice) – and literally no overhead storage.

On the down side – I couldn’t just stroll onto the plane. I walked out a gate – along a carpet ‘tunnel’ and ended up at an extremely narrow stair case. In fact – it was the door of the plane – converted into a series of narrow steps up. So I had to lift my bag up to carry it into the plane. Awkward – seriously awkward.

But on to the over the top guest service experience.

I got to my seat, settled down, and put my nearly empty coffee cup (purchased at 2nd Cup in the airport) in the seat pocket in front of me.

Without my saying ANYTHING – the stewardess came along and asked if I wanted a refill! A refill. Amazing. I said yes – and then she asked – how do I like it. How much milk, how much sugar.

Delta – I’m impressed. And I was travelling economy class! She really made me feel special.

So here I sit – full and reasonably hot coffee in hand, watching a trainer teach a new employee how to de-ice a plane! They used the lift truck to go up – sprayed us down, and then actually got out to test the wings for ice. This against a rosy sky hearlding dawn over the city of Montreal.

I toast the sky – Here’s to a safe and healthy trip!

I live in a cool city.

Signing off – The Soup Lady.

Napoleon meets his match – Waterloo 2015


Dawn on June 20, 2015 – aka June 17, 1815

Last night’s battle didn’t go too badly – no clear winner of course – but the French troops managed to push the British line back almost to the edge of the battlefield. Aside from that one Scottish group (looked like Scots – could have been Russians) – we held firm and felt strong.

Today of course is another day.

There’s a change in the atmosphere in the camp – the soliders are being so nice to M. le Docteur Jean Vivant de Clairmont! Do I have a seat, will I sit here – did I get my breakfast yet. Hey – do you think they are begining to see that I am not just a fancy outfit? Whatever – I’m relieved to feel the change – means I’m doing something ok.

Breakfast done – drill done – we are given the rest of the day off. The battle tonight will be epic – and we all realize it. Nerves are on edge – Justifably so I suppose. 200 years ago do you think the soliders were as nervous – they faced life or death, so I suppose they must have been worried. But they were so young – mostly 18 to 21 years old, did they think that what would happen that day would be so studied, so celebrated, so well remembered.
Our Major – Gilles – reminds us to be in battle dress and ready to assemble at 4:30 this afternoon. The battle won’t start till 8:00 pm – but we must march the 4.5 KM, then get into our formations.

Taking on my background role – interpreter – I go visit the Sutlers that have set up tents to sell their goods in the Allied camp, and near the battlefield. There are treasures galore – I score a new fan, and my partner finds a canteen. The weather is hot and humid, having enough water is going to be critical to the success or failure of the troops, and there are 120 men and women marching as Garde Imperial, not to mention the entire drum and fife core. I grab another 12 litres of water from the ‘canteen’ tent – and it’s a good thing too – he’s running low.

We gather at 4:30 – and ‘dinner’ is distributed – packages of dried apricots and bags of peanuts. I can appreciate the apricots – but why peanuts? M. le Docteur Jean Vivant de Clairmont is going to have enough trouble keeping the troops hydrated and on their feet without them eating peanuts! Good thing that La Culiere was in charge for lunch. He started with canned ravoli – but with skillful addition of sauage and chopped onions, made it into something delicous. Not period correct of course – (ravoli for French troops?) although canning was invented by order of our Emperor – so that at least was right!

Not fed – but carrying what is going to have to pass for dinner – the troops are mustered and we march out. There are cheering townspeople everywhere! They yell out their support for us – many choosing to march along beside us for short periods. We spot the calvary – over 150 horses and their riders – ready for battle, and looking truly fine.

There are over 2500 French troops on hand for this fight – we’re one small cog in a huge machine – all focused on gaining another victory for our Emperor. He rides by – gaily waving his Bicorne. We are joined on the field by several of the higher officers – and in the distance I spot the rest of the medical core. They have come prepared for trouble, they have stretchers ready to take soliders off the field.

We are positioned at the far end of the battle field – on a slight hilltop overlooking 3 huge structures – mock-ups of La Haye Sainte (bravely defended by The Kings Legion), Hougoumont (which will be set on fire sometime during this battle), and on the far eastern side of the battle field – Papelotte. La Guarde Imperiale never gets near any of these – we stay well into the open areas of the battle field.

Massed in front of us are what we can see of the Allied armies – primarily British commanded by Wellington. Historically – many of them would have been hidden from view, but today they are very visible, and very scary. They stretch from one end of the huge battlefield to the other – a mass of red coats and artillery.

The start of the battle is signaled by the announcer – who plays O Fortuna from Carmia Barna. Excellent choice – as it tells of the raise and fall of man’s fortune. Perfect for this battle that set the stage for Europe as we know it today.

But we don’t have time to listen – Our Major has gotten orders – and they are communicated to the 4 divisions as a series of commands yelled out by each of our officiers. The artillary barage has begun – and we are stationed near two of the larger guns. The noise level is considerable, compounded by the pyrotecnics. To both our left and right there are now fires burning – officially the result of cannon fire from the Brits – but really the careful positioning of pyrotecnics.

It dawns on me that I don’t know where they have these stacks of fireworks hidden on the field – but one of the officiers takes a moment to explain to me that they are individually controlled and supervised. The big ones won’t go off if anyone is near by. That’s reassuring, I guess.

I’m just hoping that my position in the exact middle of the Guarde will keep me safe.

Our Major commands that we march forward – and soon we are going down hill thru rye that reaches to my waist. Underneath the rye are ridges and hallows caused by plowing the fields – and I’m having trouble keeping my feet underneath me. I stumble along – trying as best as I can to march – but honestly – it’s hard just to walk fast enough to keep up with the troop.

Form Square is suddenly called – and for the first and only time – we blow it! Our square has a front and a back – but there is no real middle. The space where I would normally stand is filled with the flag, officers in gold and gilt who have decided to march along with us, and the entire fife and drum core. I have no choice – I draw my epee – and try not to get trampled. The British calvary makes a valient effort to cut us down – but the bayonets are mounted – and all they can do is clash sword againt bayonet. We are not allowed to shoot at them when they are this close – it’s dangerous for the horses. And they are really really close. I can hear the horses heavy breathing as they gallop past. And the earth literally shakes.

Our calvary rides up – and there is a massive calvary battle – right outside our position.

The Brits and their Allies eventually retreat – we form lines and continue our advance, straight into the guns of the British line. We mount Bayonets – but the gunfire doesn’t cease, and the Major doesn’t tell us to charge. Instead we being an organized march backwards.

The Old Guard never retreats – but apparently marching backwards (you try that) is ok.

We reposition ourselves further to the right side and this time we attack the British line.

It’s so much fun – we pull back and do it again!

But our losses are beginning to mount up – there are literally piles of dead everywhere – and when next I peek out from behind the line – the other doctors have begun to check on the dead. I join them – using my wet white glove to cool down their heads. It’s hot work being dead – even at 9:45 at night. The wounded and dead thank me – and like a good doctor, I don’t steal their shoes. I leave that for the thieves and Camp Followers – I’m all about helping the injured.

One solider lifts his hat – and his hair – to receive my cool touch- and I wipe down his bald head.

Suddenly I hear ‘Charge!’ from behind me! Oh my goodness – the Prussians have entered the battle – and we are being attacked! I’m on the outside of the line – and in serious trouble. I bravely (ok – maybe not so bravely) desert the dead and dying to run towards the square that the remaining members of the Guard have formed to protect the Eagle and the Flag.

Let me IN!!!

I squeeze in – just in time to see La Culiere throw himself into the line of fire in an attempt to protect the flag. He falls – along with most of the line.

The next time the attacking Brits fire – I fall too.

Wellington rides in to claim the field for the English. We have officially lost. The battle is over. Napoleon has met his match.

…..

After the call to end the fight – the dead arise, and two of the old guard help me get back on my feet. Good thing too – I was lying there thinking – hmm, down wasn’t that hard – but I really don’t think I can get up my myself.

My apron is bloodied, most of my water bottles empty – and we still have the long march back to the Bivouac. Again I form a hitch hiking line up – flaging down cars to the amusement of the police acting as traffic control and fill them with soliders too tired and too sore to make the walk back. Eventually – it’s just me left – and when I flag down the last car – the police that are directly traffic give me a round of Appaluse!

Beer, Frits, Bed! No problem getting to sleep to night, I’m seriously sore – but glad I came.

The next morning I get the absolutely best compliment in the world. After Gilles, our Major, finishes his announcements – and thanks the North Americans in general – one of the Old Guard asks for M. le Docteur Jean Vivant de Clairont to be brought in front of the ranks. The line parts, and I’m waved to the front.

He announces – We want to thank Leslie specifically – and the entire company gives me a Hip- Hip – Hurrah.

Tears in my eyes – I remind them to drink water!

As the men pack up to leave – each and every one comes over to personally thank me – and in many cases give me a hug.

M. le Docteur Jean Vivant de Clarimont – you done good!

Signing off – The soup Lady.

Today I became Canadian


I AM CANADIAN! – Today I stood with 295 other immigrants from 61 different countries to pledge ourselves to a country different from the one of our birth.

I’m actually kinda emotional. It’s a big decision, made more challenging by the hoops and loops and paper work one has to submit to of course, but still – at the end – it’s a decision to change (or in my case add to) my country of obligation.

This day is 5 years in the making – that’s how long it’s taken from the day I paid my fee – till today – sitting here among 294 other applicants that have been accepted and must now say our Oath.

I pointed out to my husband that we are looking at the sea of Canadian Diversity. All colors, shapes, and sizes of humanity are represented. And there are a sea of different outfits – ladies in their go to church finery, men in suits, men in t-shirts, ladies in dresses, ladies in jeans, ladies in sari’s, in sequins, wearing hats (that’s me!), wearing hajabs (maybe 5%), one lady in a Nijab (including her face covered), it’s a sea of differences, all joined together for this one very short period of time.

It’s a graduating class – and behind the carefully numbered rows of 301 seats are row upon row of family seating. There are parents, there are kids, there are friends, there are family members. Despite the clear insturctions to only bring one family member, no one is being refused – despite the obvious over abundance of participants. Cell phone cameras at the ready – everyone is taking pictures of themselves standing in front of the flags of every Canadian province that are proudly displayed on the stage, bracketed on the left and right by the Red and White Canadian flag.

Clearly not the first time they have done this (when asked they admit to 4 ‘big’ ceremonies a week – all summer!) – the staff uses the divide and conquer way of channelling people – We were all asigned a seat when our invitations were sent – I’m #16 – front row – far right – and by seat number we are greeted, our Permanent resident cards taken away – and our participation noted. I didn’t have my original papers – I came to Canada in 1974 – they are long gone – but this wasn’t even a problem. They just note that they are lost – and move on. The atmosphere in the relatively crowded room is respectful, albeit filled with the occasional cry of a child. New Canadians seem to arrive with kids – or at least their family that attend have kids. I’m not worried about our population growth – that’s for sure.

As new Canadians – we got a pampflet with pictures of all the Canadian Symbols – and a small lapel pin with the Maple Leaf. These pampflets are often part of the picture taking procession – clutched proudly, held firmly, pointed to when the camera flashes.

At the end of the ceremony – we’ll receive the grand prize – a certificate saying that we are now Canadians.

It’s a big day.

Signing off – The Soup Lady.

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Yoga, Pilates, Ecstatic Dancing and Tibetan Bowl Meditation


When in Rome – do like the Romans. When in Ubud – do Yoga, Pilates, and Meditations!

As I quickly discovered – Ubud is the hot bed of Yoga, Organic Food, Pilates, and like activities – including Mediation in Bali – and since Bali is one of the major places to go for these kinds of activities – that means that in Ubud – Yoga is big. Really Big. Almost every other building either featured Yoga based Home Stays, Yoga Studios, or both! Curiously – all this healthy life style stuff is smack dab on top of a society where the average wage is $200 a month. Interesting counterpoints are simply bound to happen, eh?

So where to go in Ubud for the best Healthy Life-Style experience? I’ll be frank – I don’t know. I did one Pilates class at Ubud Pilaties, one Sunrise Yoga class at Intuitive Flow, and 3 Ecstatic Dances at the Yoga Barn. In addition – I also did a Tibetan Gong and Bowl Meditation at the Yoga Bar. I have my favorites – but as to a definitive ‘best’ – nope – not going there!

But since I’m always willing to share my opinons – I’ll start by comparing the studios – then I’ll talk about the classes!

The Yoga Barn in Ubud is a giant, multi-level space where hippies of all ages hang out. As I blogged early in this series – it offers a board spectrum of different types of Meditation, Yoga, and Movement based classes, courses, and community events. It also is the home for the Bali Yoga Spirit Festival – one of the top 5 Yoga related festivals in the world. Clearly – I was absolutely going to try some of these activities out – it was really just a question of picking and choosing.

I ended up doing 3 Ecstatic Dances and a Tibetan Bowl meditation class at the Yoga Barn. I would have simply loved to do more there – the Yoga and Meditation Music Experience class sounded fun, and I’d have liked to participate in the Spirit Festival – but time and airline tickets proved limiting factors. Maybe next time I visit Bali…

The Lady in Pink’s palace was located in a ‘village’ near but not in Ubud. We were a 15 minute walk to the outskirts of the city – and over a hour walk from the Yoga Barn. Clearly we were taking taxi’s to sessions at the Yoga Barn – and best intentions aside – that seemed to contribute to us doing less – not more – there.

However – within about 10 minutes walk from the Palace were Intuitive Flow (for Yoga), and Ubud Pilates. Liane had already purchased bulk tickets for sessions in both places – so clearly they were on the hot list of places to go.

Despite planning on doing more – I ended up just doing one class each at these smaller studios. Enough to get the idea, but not enough to do any accidental damage.

Ubud Pilates first. I loved the feeling of this space – open to the gardens on 2 sides, closed by bamboo screening on the other two sides – the feeling was calming and comfortable. The teacher worked on a slight raised platform, which made it much easier to see what she was doing – and I loved the tiny gardens on the two open sides – the sound of running water is so relaxing.

Pilates for the uninformed – and I’m pretty uninformed – consisted mainly of laying on a mat and doing core exercises – knee pushups – full pushups – crunches and the like. All done slowly – concentrating more on breathing correctly than on high number of repetitions. It wasn’t exactly hard to do – but fear of harming my back made me stop after only a few reps of each exercise. Anna – 80 years young – is one of the strong students – and some people go every day. If I wasn’t so keen on seeing Bali – I’d have loved to do more of this – and I was highly impressed with how well the Lady in Pink performed. Something to think about when I get back home I suppose.

Is there a Pilates class in my future? Who knows!

Intuitive Flow is more of a broader based exercise space/program. Unlike Ubud Pilates – it is on the 2nd floor of a building, has windows on 3 sides (all of which were slid open) – and has a marvelous orientation towards the East North East. You can enjoy watching sunrise over Mt. Agung – Bali’s active volcano – and can admire the way the birds celebrate the birth of a new day while you hold Yoga poses.

The specific class we attended was a pretty much a beginner’s version – and I quickly learned that Backwards Leaning Dog isn’t going to happen for this body. I simply couldn’t hold that position without my back talking to me – and what it had to say wasn’t very nice. The good news – the very nice instructor (slim, pretty, in awesome shape) quickly caught on to my seriously beginner status – and just would say – you are doing fine when I collapsed into the Chakra position of knees on floor – head on floor – arms out.

I did find that there were some stretches I could do with ease. Other positions needed the leader’s gentle hands on my back and sides and shoulders to get things just so. I seriously have tense shoulders – relax your shoulders and breathe were constant reminders. Really should work more on that.

So – 5 stars for Intuitive Flow (mostly for that amazing view), and 3 stars for the Pilaties – it was more expensive, and the leader didn’t really come by to help me out at all. Maybe I was doing everything perfectly – but I think it more likely that she made the business decision of working with the people most likely to return.

On to the Yoga Barn. I’ve talked about the Ecstatic Dances – Friday night and Sunday morning – several times. These are dance till you sweat thru your clothes events – or as the DJ said – we’re trying to get a natural high. No talking – no thinking – just free movement. Lots of fun – and a 5 star – must do rating – for these. If you end up in Ubud on a Friday night or Sunday morning you must go. Only one hesitation – I have serious trouble turning my over active brain off – even in Ubud, even at the Yoga Barn.

Good thing I don’t mind my own constant internal monolog, eh?

Tibetian Bowl and Gong Meditation – that’s a class of a different animal completely. Held in the same space as the Ecstatic Dances – wide open, roofed, amazingly beautiful wooden big plank floor – it’s strictly limited to 35 participants. The mats are carefully arrange in a giant 1/2 circle around the leader – leaving most of the space open between our heads – pointed towards the bowls when we lie down – and the bowls themselves.

The session begins with us all filing into the space as they call our names – a strangely intimate way of counting heads. We climb the stairs barefoot to the upper level, put our belonging against the wall or in the provided open shelves, and pick a mat. We sit in lotus position, quietly waiting for the instructor to begin.

He starts by lighting candles and placing them at the cardinal points – then he invites us to lie down on the mats – heads pointing towards the bowls. No instruction, no advice – just the suggestion that we relax and let the music of the gongs and bowls carry our thoughts away.

I make a serious first mistake – I lie down flat on my back. Which is not totally comfortable for me. I should have gotten onto my side – and put a pillow between my knees. It would have been more comfortable and more conducive to meditation.

Then the leader started to play the bowls and gongs – occasionally letting them continue to ring as he walked around the space holding different kinds of incense over our heads. I know it was different – partly from the smell – and partly because I opened my eyes. One time the incense was thin long sticks – another time it looked a bit like an ear of corn on the cob. Great smell either way.

I know that for some people – this became a period of serious relaxation – there was definitley a guy snoring to my right. For me however, the uncomforable position, and my wide ranging mind spent most of the time occasionally listening to the bowls – which were highly melodic and very comforable to hear, and mostly musing on my own thoughts.

About half way thru I became aware that the wooden floor was conducting the vibrations of the bowls and gongs into my bones – a strange singing sensation. I’m not actually sure this was expected – and since we had been asked to be silent until we got back down to where we’d left our shoes, I had no way to ask.

That tingling sensation lasted well into the night – and made it a bit difficult to sleep – although it had totally disipated by the time I got up the next morning.

So bottom line on Tibetian Bowl and Gong Mediation – I need to take a meditation class for beginingers before I try this again – it bothered me that I wasn’t sure I was doing it right. Which is probably wrong too.

But would I recommend it – absolutely Yes. It’s a wonderfully peaceful way to spend an hour or so – and it’s so important to find Peace in Your Life. Definitely 5 stars.

Signing off to go consider where to find a beginner’s beginning meditation class – The Soup Lady

** Appreciation Challenge – I appreciate the existence of Pilates and Yoga – even if I con’t ways get a chance to participate.

A Star Trek Holo-Deck Experience


April 4, 2015 – 4 people – aged 65, 66, 79 and 85 shared a Star Trek Holo-Deck Experience!

Last night we shared a table with my Step-Mother-In-Law and her copaine. They were 1000 miles away – but we sat down at the same table, we sang, we toasted each other – we enjoyed each other’s company.

We were in the moment – connected by Technology (Skype and 2 ipads if you must know) – present together.

We celebrated together an experience that is thosands of years old – in a complete normal way – together across a thousand miles.

Do you think that Gene Roddenberry – inventor of Star Trek – imagined this reality happening so casually almost 50 years ago?

You’ve come a long way baby.

Health, Happiness to Family and Friends!

To Life.

Signing off to do the dishes – there are some things that even technology can’t change – The Soup Lady

Edible Bali


Food is a constant theme in my life – my husband is a chef, my daughter is a chef, my other kids love to cook, my grand-daughter is a complete fan – and my life has been spent around food and restaurants.

But nothing really prepares you for the food experiences of Bali.

As I observed before – There is a ripeness, a lushness, a over-whelming abundance of growing things in Bali that both bemuses, amuses, and fascinates one. It’s easy to understand why visitors to this island became residents. I suppose that growing up here would almost ruin it – how can you be surprised when it has always been like this?

So – Outstanding food experiences…

We took a Jungle Trek – really more like a farm explore if the farm was up and down crazy ravines, mad paths, and had little apparent organization. The Lady in Pink observed that in Bali one doesn’t have to encourage growth – the rain takes care of that – one has to prune and control. Which explains Avocado trees that tower above you, coffee trees that are 6 foot high – and thats with constant pruning, and the wealth of fruits that quite literally grow wild everywhere.

Bananas, jack fruit, Durian, Pineapples, Coffee, Cocoa, Vanalia, Tumeric, Clove, Mangos, Mangosteens (in season now and a wonderful discovery), Papya, ferns, long beans, edible vines, Coconut trees (providing leaves, coconuts, coconut milk, and even coconut oil), Palm trees (for Palm oil and Palm Sugar), the list is endless. And we saw and tasted everything we could.

It’s truly overwhelming, surprising, astonishing, wonderful, and joyously edible.

Our Jungle Trek starts and ends in Stoned Goat Village – a village so small – it doesn’t even have a repair shop for motor scooters. And trust me – that’s small. Our host tells us that the village official population is 300 – but lots of people are actually living in Ubud or Denpassar in order to go to school, get a good paying job, or just get away from village life.

Our pair of fearless leaders – for our group of 4 senior ladies ranging from 60 to 80 years of age – guided us and helped us up and down and around – pointing out all the edible things, and giving us tastes of those that were ripe. Land in Bali is deeded to individuals, and recently the government has been sending survey teams out to provide land owners with proper paper work, so it is clear when you move from one family’s land to the land belonging to a local Temple, to the land of another family. But the food that grows on the land – except the cash crops like Coffee – appear to be ‘open season’. If it’s ripe – and you see it first – it’s yours!

So we munch our way around the forest, eventually getting back to the family compound of one of our guides. It’s not much – the toilet is a stand-upon, the shower is a hand wand serving multiple duty as toilet paper and body wash, but it’s warm, it’s friendly – and they have spent hours cooking us a huge lunch.

There are at least 8 serving bowls – each containing a uniquely flavored dish – one has tempe – a soy bean option – that has been fried. Yum. Another contains fried eels from the river that runs behind the compound. There are 2 omlet like dishes – maybe a bit more like highly seasoned crepes than our fluffy omlets. There’s pieces of tofu that have been cooked, 2 long bean dishes – one so heavily garliced that I tell everyone to eat it – we’ve got to sit in a car for hours – and we might as all have bad breathe.

And of course there is rice.

Yummy – spicy – not spicy – crispy – soft – sweet and sour – The meal manages to hit all the taste buds and all the texture points.

For desert they are making Palm Sugar – it’s been boiling over a wood fire stove since last night – and they’ve carefully timed things so that the sugar firms up just as we finish our lunch. It’s a sugar high – super hot – and tasting vaguely of caremel.

After the meal – the wife and 14 year old daughter of the host puts on a Balinese traditional dance performance for us – and I even get rolling eye lessons. Such fun. Such Food. Like being on Food Network without the camera issues!

But that’s not the top food experience I had. The absolute best experience was at the home of Diana – our driver extraordinaire. He invited us to lunch at his compound on my last day in Bali – and he and his wife started preparing the day before.

I arrived at their place about 30 minutes early (I’d walked back from downtown Ubud – it’s hard to judge how long the walk will take) – and I’m relaxing in the shade when I realize that men are delivering a huge wooden table and 6 simple but elegant wooden chairs to Diana’s house. He bought a table and chairs so that they could serve us lunch.

Think about it – he went out and bought a table – he didn’t have one when he invited us over for lunch – and then figured he’d need something to feed us on. Later I asked about it – and he said he’d decided that it would be easier on us – and besides he didn’t have one. He and his wife rarely get the luxury of eating together – they work crazy hours – so you eat when you are personally hungry.

The meal they served us – while less variety then the Jungle Feast – was positively delicous. A whole roasted chicken – Diana said it was boiled – but the skin was a bit crispy – so maybe boiled then roasted? Yummy in any case. There was Rice – of course. There were the traditional long bean vegetable dish – which was delightful. They served Chicken Satay – which put me into the mind set of Kebbe – it was seasoned ground chicken wrapped around a bamboo stick and then grilled. I ate 5. There was roasted pork – full fat of course – and wonderful.

After the meal they served us leaf wrapped sticky rice – one set had bananas in the rice, the other had coconut. Diana refered to these as snack food – you can put a bunch into a backpack – and pull one out when you feel a bit needy.

The meal ended with ice cream – in celebration of me – the Lady who stops for Ice Cream.

My description simply can’t do justice to the depth of flavors there were in these dishes – again – salty, sweet, bitter, sour – all the taste buds rejoyed with every bite.

After lunch, and a tour of the compound, Diana took us to meet one of his uncles – who has 5 fighting cocks. The old man gladly showed me how to hold the bird and massage him – something that all the cock fighter owners do on a daily basis to keep the birds in perfect shape. Easy once you learned the trick – hold both wings down – or the bird will start flapping and things get seriously out of control from there!

During another trip around the island, we stop at a coffee roaster to see how they make Litwak coffee – that’s the one where the Civet cat eats the coffee beans, and then the cat shit is roasted. They also had ginger tea, lemon grass tea, coffee with ginger, and even plain coffee. It was all delicious, but horribly expensive – so while I tasted – I didn’t buy.

So – while in Bali – I’ve had Crispy Duck, Chicken Curry, Fried Pork, Beef Rendang, more rice that I ever thought I’d eat, at least a dozen different flavors of ice pops, long beans, tempe and soy beans prepared in many different ways, fried chicken, fried eels, Banana Pancakes, fried rice with vegges, fried noodles with veggies, and enough Mangosteens to sink a battle ship.

I didn’t try Dragon Fly – apparently a staple of Diana’s diet when he was growing up, the only fish I had was Tuna – although I saw tons of fish at the daily morning fish market – ranging from all kids of groupers, to cuttle fish, shrimp, small sliver fish (herring?), octopus, shark fins, and a host of fish that I didn’t quite for sure recognize out of the ocean. We ate at a wide range of restaurant types – some more touristy then other – prices ranging from $2.50 per person to $25 per person. We generally avoided alcohol – although the local beer – Bintang – is supposed to be quite good. And we never ever ate at a buffet.

And yes – I did 3 different grocery stores – just to see what purchased foods look like here.

Overall Food in Bali – a super easy 5 stars!

Signing off to consider her next meal in Bali – The Soup Lady

White Water Rafting down the Ayung River in Ubud – Too much Fun!


This should be illegal – or at least immoral. It is simply too much fun.

I’ve always been a fan of white water rafting – particularly in hot climates. The water in the rivers that have rapids are generally cool, the shade of the canyons welcoming, and of course – it’s a hoot and a half to boot.

There are 3 downsides to taking a white water rafting trip – the price (sigh – always the US$ – even in Bali), the hike down to the river, and the hike back up. But overlooking those 3 issues – this is a total must do if you have the opportunity.

Diana found me a 2 hour rafting trip for a fairly reasonable price – downside – it started early. We had to be at the rafting ‘headquarters’ at 9:00 AM – which meant leaving home at 8:15. Oh how I suffer to have fun.

The name of my rafting group was Sari Profit Rafting – and they were really full service. Their ‘headquarter’s’ had changing rooms, showers, and lockers – I got into my bathing suit, threw everything except my trusty iphone (aka Camera) and my Tilly Hat into the locker and jumped into a 7 passenger van for the quick trip up river to the jumping in point. We were going to be rafting for 1 KM on the Ayung River – described as having 28 Class II and III rapids – and being suitable for ages 5 to 65. Oops – I’m 66 going on 67. Oh well – they didn’t ask my age at headquarters – and I only fessed up after we started the trip.

The starting off point was in a beautiful rice field and a ‘shed’ filled with rafting supplies – tons of floation vests, paddles and helmets. I guess in season they are planning on a lot more rafters – we are just 2 boats of 6. In my boat are 4 friends from Vietnam (total weight of maybe 200 lbs) – a tall thin German fellow – the guide – and yours truly. We suit up and head out – across the rice fields and then into the descent into the gorge. It’s 350 meters pretty much straight down – about 1/2 of the descent is on cement steps, and 1/2 is a scramble over mud steps, tree roots and the occasional rock. Nothing horribly difficult – but enough to slow me down to the point that I’m not the last of my group to arrive – I’m the last of both groups.

Sorry people.

The rafts are already down and full of air – carried down on the heads of Balinese Women – proudly wearing t-shirts that proclaim – ‘Porters’.

At this point our guide is a tad concerned about my ability to do the rafting (66 years old, seriously slow walking down) – and decides to put me on the back right – what is best known as the safety seat – least bouncing, less important for paddling. Who am I to argue – I am 66 – and I am never going to be a strong paddler! My idea of a great rafting trip – grabbing tight to a rope tied securely to the raft and going – “Whee”.

A quick lesson on paddling – in English – which only I can completely understand – (Guide’s English isn’t great – and it’s no one else’s first language!) and we’re off.

He has taught us some key words – Forward, Backwards, BANG (we’re going to hit something – brace yourself), and Stop. That’s enough for our group – I guess we’ll figure anything else out on a ‘Need to Know’ basis.

This is the tail end of rainy season – good news actually. the rapids are at best level II and III – and generally pretty easy. That said – I’m still having a ball as we bounce down the river – hitting rocks that jut out into our path with great abandon. The advantage of rubber rafts – you definitely bounce! One of my fellow passengers quips – these are like the roads of Bali – an observation I must agree with – rubble rapids complete with the occasional pothole! Only major difference, no motor bikes. Instead we get to dodge the occasional other raft full of people!

Our guide takes us to 3 different waterfalls each at least 100 to 200 meters high – and allows us out to swim in the falls before getting everyone back in the boat for another series of rapids.

I opt to stay in the boat – I’m not sure I could get back in if I flung myself out over the side! Certainly not in deep water. So the guide gets out and drags our raft (with me inside) under the water fall. Hey – I need to get the experience – right? Its pummeling – but fun! And wonderfully cooling.

The scenery is outstanding – vertical cliffs tower above us on both sides – interrupted by water falls, rock falls – several other rafting trip starting points – and at one point – a magnificent hotel – the Royal Pita Maya. Oh my – what a magnificant looking place to stay. We wave at the guests as we paddle by on our way to the next set of rapids.

We drift past a huge rock out-cropping that has been carved with images from the story of Rama Sita – featuring among other things – a huge crocodile. This is the only time my camera makes it out of the water proof bag – so enjoy the image below!

At the 1/2 way point – we take a rest at a beach. Ladies with drinks are at the ready to provide sustenance – with a cheerful – no money – no worries – you pay when you get back to headquarters… The best part of the break – a rock out-cropping over a very deep pool. Our guide does a back-flip and roll into the water – and the rest of us gradually get up the nerve to make a least a belly flop into the water. I’m happy just letting my self get caught up in the current, swept down stream a bit – then paddle back and do it again. So much fun – and so totally refreshing!

Eventually we must paddle on. I’ve finally earned the right to sit in front – which is fun too. We play splash the other rafters – race a team down a quieter path – and generally just laugh and have fun.

All good things must end – even rafting trips. So we arrive – get out of our raft – and begin the long hike (only 250 meters as per the guide) back up. How do the rafts get ‘up’ you ask? Balanced on the heads of the female ‘Porters’ who have magically appeared here.

Surprise Surprise – when we reach the top – we’re at Headquarters! No car ride required. That never happened to me before.

Nice Showers, Hot towels, and a free lunch complete the experience.

Oh was that fun.

** Keeping with the ‘find something to appreciate challenge’ – I really appreciate having the health to make it down and back up so I didn’t have to miss doing the White Water Rafting here in Bali.**

Signing off to find something else that is this much fun to do – The Soup Lady

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Irresistible things to do in Bali ….


Being in Bali Makes you want to… (PART 2)

Do Yoga or Pilates – it’s almost a national sport here in Ubud – at least among the ex-pats and foreign visitors. Everyone in all the Yoga classes and Pilates classes I’ve peeked in on has been a foreigner – I think the Balinese are too busy working to need to go to class to stay fit. I’ve tried one of each – plus a Tibetian Gong Mediation class – but more on that in another blog! While you wait – do put one of these classes on your ‘got-ta do it’ list for Ubud.

Visit the Rain Forest – Oh wait – you don’t have to visit it – you are in it – all the time. The flowers are amazing. But when the heavens decide its time for rain – it’s like someone unzipped a huge bag of water – torrents pour out! It’s generally warm water – but still – you, the cars, the dogs, the roads, the rice fields – everything gets soaked. We got caught in one yesterday – We’d gone up to visit Mt Batur to see the volcano – and just as we paid our entrance fee – the black clouds and rain rolled in. Nothing to see – a wall of grey. Absolutely grey. You could imagine that someone had built a room around you, painted the walls light grey – and wished you good luck finding a way out. Clearly we’re going back tomorrow. I do want to see that Volcano!

See Mt Batur, Mt. Agung (the Volcano), and the Mother Temple! It took 2 drives up the mountain roads, winding and curving thru villages and rice fields to get the job done – but we succeeded. First day was a total rain out – 2nd day was Glorious. Amazing photos, beautiful place, and the mother Temple is worth at least one visit. It would be nicer if you are Hindu of course – but I’m still glad I went.

Pat a Snake or a Bat – or both. Why not. Snakes are easy to find if you really want to hold one – big ones too – I’m talking over 15 feet long – minimum. But I just smile and shake my head – no thanks! (Bats on the other hand…)

Pick something you eat that grows wild in Bali! The choices are endless – Mangasteens, bananas, cloves, coffee, cocoa beans (chocolate eventually), pineapples, jack fruit, dumum, vanilla beans, star anis, madarine oranges, the list goes on and on.

Admire the Poinsettas – They grow wild on the slopes of Mt Batur. Both Red and White are considered weeds – they just grow to huge sizes! Diana tells us that they used to grow wild around Ubud – but they actively killed them off – they are weeds – and poisonous to boot.

Perform Kajeng – Every 15 days you must feed the spirts – otherwise who knows what will happen. They might get upset, the good ones desert your family and your compound, and the bad ones, who apparently love food too – will find their way in. And this particular offering series is quite important. Diana’s car – which up to now has not been sporting an offering – today has one. It’s Kajeng.

Chat with School Kids. Okay – this might just be something I love – but they are all learning English after about 10 years old – so the odds are that at least one in the group (they only travel in packs) – will be willing to take a chance and answer your ‘Hello’. Once you’ve broken the ice – it’s a free for all of English – you’ll learn their names, their ages – and you can be sure they will ask ‘What is your name’ – which often comes out as ‘What is my name’ – and eventually you’ll be fast friends. In many cases – the teacher eventually will show up to see what the kids are doing/saying – and this too generates those amazingly beautiful Balinese smiles.

Eat a Paddle Pop – or one of the many competitors. These cost from 3000 to 4000 ruplies – (30 cents to 40 cents) – and are uniformly delicious. They come in tons of flavors, often 3 or 4 to the single pop. Sometimes I think I recognize the flavor – and I do know when it’s chocolate – but sometimes I’m just going for the great name. Coco Lava, Mama Blue, Sunshine, Magic, Red Rocket, Frozen Frenzy – those are just the ones that attempt an English translation. Diana has decided that I’m the Lady that stops for Ice Cream, and I think he’s absolutely correct. It’s hard to pass by a freezer without checking to see if there’s a new surprise hidden in it’s depths.

Side note – a friend of mine has challenged her followers to find something to appreciate every day this month of April – so here’s my April First Appreciation note – I deeply appreciate The Lady in Pink for inviting me to accompany her to Bali. Thank you – Lady in Pink.

Last irresistible thing to do in Bali – Dance till you sweat thru your clothes! That’s my plan for today. I’m waiting at the Yoga Barn for the Sunday Dance to start – 150 people jamming for the fun of jamming – all hot, all sweaty, all smiles.

Signing off to register for my turn to sweat till I drop – The Soup Lady

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