July 2013 – Honest Lies

“This plane that flies in the sky, that twirls the wind, that walks in the clouds, has taken off but”

→ A couple of months ago I gave up chocolate. With that, I finally became completely dairy free. And I’m surprised at how well I am coping. It helps that the supermarket we go to has an impressive range of ingredients I thought I’d never be able to get hold of easily – vegetable shortening, dairy free margarine, soya yoghurts, xanthum gum, arrowroot powder and most types of alternative milks are all there. I mean, we’re hardly in a large city. Just a town in the countryside. So its really quite good. Of course, having a kitchen helps too. Yes, there are cravings. But they are feint, usually only when I’m in the supermarket and I am reminded of all the things I cannot have. On a day to day basis I am coping and even enjoying this. Chocolate is another matter – I miss it dearly but chocolate biscuits and rich hot chocolate do take the edge off. Really, its not too difficult when you don’t have to worry about contamination or “may contain traces of” I cook a lot for myself, because I have to, and I am putting a lot more thought into my food because of that. My bread baking is coming along nicely (I contacted my grand mother and she gave me a wonderful whole wheat recipe, which I make one week, then the next I make white bread which is the one I am struggling with but definitely getting better at) Soon I’ll be getting a food processor so I’ll start up making soups, pasta sauces and nut butters. I am, perhaps, having a little bit of fun with this. Not seeing any health benefits yet, but hopefully in a little while. I do think the real challenge is still to come though, and that is how to be dairy free whilst at university. I admit to being slightly worried about that. I need to start learning how to make meal plans to make sure I don’t waste money shopping, or time, and get good always dairy-free food in me despite having little time. I need to figure out some sort of way of not letting stress cause me to relapse into eating chocolate. But that comes later. For now, its going unexpectedly well.

→ I bought some cookbooks to guide me along this dairy free thing. The first one was Go Dairy Free by Alisa Fleming which is an excellent information book and also has some good recipes focused on substitutes to handle cravings and recipes to get nutrients that you would otherwise get from milk. It’s a great information book and I have enjoyed some of the recipes but unfortunately it is very US centric. Thankfully I stumbled upon the The Intolerant Gourmet by Pippa Kendrick. I don’t usually buy UK recipe books as I am not a fan of the UK measurement system- preferring things in cups and spoons- but in this case I needed a book that used UK ingredients which overrode that. The book is a light hardcover and inside it is laid out clearly with beautiful photos and typography. I find it strange how its sectioned in seasons instead of in more traditional breakfast, dinner type labels but the index and the contents means its not too difficult to find what you are looking for. The recipes themselves look very tasty and use very accessible ingredients, although I wish there were more veggie ones. Nonetheless, I am eager to try what I can. Already I tried the pancakes the other day and they were delicious- my sister and I made our own variation by adding back in the egg, using gluten flour and adding in cinnamon and mixed spice. Once cooked, we stacked them up and poured syrup over them then dug in. It was so much fun.

→ On the subject of cook books, I was in a charity shop the other day scanning the books available when a slim volume entitled “our traditional cooking” caught my eye. I nearly skimmed past it but I was too curious as to what cooking it was referring to and bent down to pick it up. Flicking through the pages I found myself facing a recipe for “melk tart” I had, in this random charity shop in the UK, managed to find a traditional South African cookbook. Its a fantastic little book filled with all kinds of recipes, a lot of which have little anecdotes about where they came from. (One section mentioned riding an ostrich and visiting the caves in oudtshoorn- which brought up memories of when as a little girl we did exactly that!) I rather enjoyed reading about how to prepare ostrich eggs and other such things. Not all of it is entirely out of place in the modern world though. I shall be making the banana bread using this book soon and am hoping it turns out well! I am also drawn to putu (I had some sort of mealie meal based porridge drizzled with syrup for breakfast on the game lodge in Zimbabwe and it was divine. I think it may have been putu.) and koeksisters (despite how difficult they look to make.) I must have read through this little book several times since I got it, always picking up new things from it. It’s an utterly fascinating book and I am so glad I picked it up.

I sincerely wish its prequel was not only available on amazon for around £90. O_o

→ My Aunt from South Africa has been with us a week now and there are good moments and bad moments. Thus far she’s mostly being spending time with my mother, her sister, or relaxing around the home, which is nice. We have gone out a few times- we went to some gardens, did some shopping followed by a visit to a local ice cream farm (I had fruit ice of course, but it tasted exactly like ice cream. so. good.) On Sunday we went to pick up my fathers friend from the airport, who is also visiting from South Africa for various reasons, and then we went to check out the RHS flower show, which was stupidly expensive but good fun. The weather has been brilliant for my Aunt, but on Sunday it turned temperamental and we ended up huddled under a marquee waiting for a massive storm to pass. Even that was fun.

But: for every easy going moment, where we just talk and relax and everything is fine, there are also arguments and tension. My Aunt has a temper to match my mother, and she is not afraid of expressing her opinions when maybe they aren’t wanted, because it comes across as passing judgement on our family which I don’t think it is her place too. This has caused some difficultly, especially with my sister. Its not unusual listening to arguments in this house, but it feels slightly sad that we see her so little, and when she is here we argue. I guess that’s family though? I do admit it is a little stifling at home for me now, but then this is probably more to do for the fact that I am not entirely enjoying being home since I came back from Malaysia. I am frustrated, struggling to fit myself into this place where I don’t feel I fit any more, struggling to follow the rules of the house when I have my own ways of doing things (mostly regarding chores and food and all those little things) I move out to my own place at the end of August and cannot wait. I think it may be unfair to blame it entirely on my family of course – I am introverted so can deal with people a certain amount, but I need my own space to retreat to at the end of the day. On saying that, university starts in just two months, and that is not something I want to happen any sooner. I am, like always, conflicted as to how quickly time is passing.

Surprise

On Tuesday it was my 21st birthday. My sister had been teasing me for about a month by telling me about taking me out somewhere, but not telling me where. She had good fun joking around telling me she was taking me to Cadbury’s world (remember, I’m dairy free) and then afterwards that she was taking me raving.

So. I woke up early on Tuesday and got ready with very little idea of what to expect, and still despite my pleading my sister kept our destination to herself. We set off on the motorway, me paying close attention to the signs, wondering where we turning off. As we got further and further from home the signs began to narrow down to one place – Hull.

We stopped at the services for lunch and I thought about it and eventually asked my sister “We’re not going to Hull are we?”

My sister laughed and said yes.

I hoped she was joking around again but… it did not seem like a joke this time. “We’re seriosuly going to Hull?!”

No offense to Hull, but I had no idea what was there to do. I imagined it a grim, industrial sort of place with little of worth to tourists. I was very nervous. I spotted a sign for the turnoff for York and hoped…but no…we continued on and indeed I found myself in Hull. In the bright sunlight it did not seem as bad as I imagined but I still was not certain what we’d have driven all the way there for. Of course, now certain that was our destination I paid even more attention to the signs, especially the brown tourist ones, but still I wasn’t sure where we were going until my sister slapped her hand over my face and told me not to look. I’d just seen a sign for someplace called “the deep” with a fish next to it, and after being punched in the face for it I was fairly certain that was where we were going. My sister was not aware I knew though, and quickly told me to close my eyes. “I’m scared of the dark!” I cried. “Well avert your eyes then.” I diligently stared at a little hole in my tights until my sister said I could look. We had indeed arrived at “the deep” which was an aquarium or as my sister declared proudly a “sub aquarium”. “What on earth is a sub aquarium?” I asked her, intrigued. “I have no idea. Maybe they’ve built it under water?”

I still have no idea, but regardless it was good fun. It was quite a small one, compared to the grand sized of the ones in Japan and there was initially a plague of loud school children with little spacial awareness, but it eventually got quieter and they had a huge 10m tank so as you worked your way down the aquarium (yes, you start at the top floor and wind down- maybe that’s why it’s a sub aquarium?) you would eventually land up right at the bottom of the tank, where you could either take the elevator through it back to the top, or the stairs. My sister and I instead took the elevator up, and then down again, and then went up the stairs. It was good fun. Another cool display, separate from this huge tank, was one where they’d covered it with a blackout curtain which you had to peek behind, to see the flashing lights of some deep sea creature. It was a little scary, being afraid of the dark, but quite unique. Of course there was the required clown fish (nemos!!) and jelly fish and what not but it was still very, very nice.

We left the aquarium and spent some time in the gift shop, amused at all the unrelated souvenirs you could buy (there were quite a few dinosaur and big cat things and just… lots of things that weren’t fish. or that were fish/sea animals that didn’t even exist in the aquarium.) Then we left and I did not know what was coming next, and I asked but of course my sister was having far too much fun keeping me in the dark and would not say. At least she let me know that we were sctually going somewhere next. We drove away from Hull, and I was probably a little relieved as I was not certain what else we could have done there. I once again played the look at the signs and wonder game, and was certain we were stopping at Leeds, but we passed it and it then became clear that we would be going to Manchester. I was very certain and very hopeful that by how late it was that we were heading for food, but without my sister confirming anything I had no idea. By that point I was grumpy and fed up with my sisters game of secrecy. I just wanted to know what was happening! My sister was still too amused at my frustration to tell me. We arrived in Manchester and I trailed after my sister towards the unknown place, then in the certain knowledge we were meeting with our parents. Indeed, we met our parents at a fancy Thai restaurant where we would have supper. The food was delicious, but the portions sizes were crazy. The starter was the size of a main meal, and as such I could not finish my main meal. I felt super bad as it was very expensive. I admit, I do wish we’d gone somewhere more casual. I’m not a big fan of formal, expensive places- I always feel awkward and out of place, and very conscious of the cost. I usually cannot manage restaurant portions and that’s fine when it’s reasonably priced, but once you start getting into pricier food you just feel guilty.

Anyway, it was nice and I went home very full and happy with my day, although I do wish my sister had kept me more informed of what was going on. I’m not a big fan of surprises. (That’s why my sister loves surprising me… typical. :/)

Since then…nothing has been happening. Being 21 is no different than being 20.
My aunt from South Africa is coming to stay with us for a week starting tomorrow afternoon though which I’m quite nervous about. I hope it’s going to be a good week with her.

“This world is yours, it’s all yours”

Looking back onto Ullswater
Climbing Up and Up...
Red Tarn, Catstye Cam and the view from Catstye Cam
Nearly at the top of Catstye Cam
The walk from Catstye Cam to Helvellyn
Walking across the top of Helvellyn towards a nearby peak, and some sheep
Looking down on Striding Edge
Hole in the Wall
The long way back, and some more sheep
sun set
Road back to Glenridding

I climbed my first mountain in Japan with my father and, as I was doing so, I talked to my dad about mountain climbing in the UK and somehow got him to agree to taking me to the lake district to climb something there. Of course, I didn’t think this would actually happen. I thought it highly likely my father was just saying that to appease me. But this week he informed me he’d taken Friday off work and he would be taking me to the Lake District to climb Helvellyn, the third highest peak in England and one of the most popular. I googled it and was apprehensive upon seeing photos of people balancing atop the narrow striding edge, but my father assured me that we’d be going another way that should be easier than that. I trusted him-imagining something like Mt Tarumae that we climbed in Japan- pathways and steps to the top.

On Friday I dragged myself out of bed just before 6.10am. Blearily I showered and washed my hair and pulled on my hiking gear- plain cotton pants, a t shirt, thick socks. I have nothing fancy. I’d gotten up so early in order to avoid my father shouting at me that I’d made us late by taking too long in the bathroom- we had plans to leave at 7.30am. Of course it was my father who only woke at 7am, and in the end we only left at 8am. Which actually wasn’t so bad. We were starting our walk from Glenridding, so basically we just had to take the motorway straight up north, then turn off to go to Windermere, and from there turn up to Glenridding. That drive from Windermere to Glenridding was very scenic. I had been to the lake district when I was younger, too young to really remember it. So it was like seeing it all new and with all the excitement and wonder that comes with that. The lake district is similar to the peak district, but grander. Blue skies, narrow country roads, winding stacked stone walls, sheep dotted about everywhere, large glimmering lakes.

We arrived at Glenridding around 10.30am and began our walk, taking a wrong turn and ending up halfway on the wrong route and having to turn around before setting off on the right path. The first part of the journey proper was a hellish slog upwards, upwards, upwards, always thinking that soon it’d flatten out, and always finding that it did not. It was hot, I was sweating and panting and flushed. I was miserable. My father was also miserably hot. We had to stop quite frequently for water and just to get our breath back, and just to try and cool down. Every cool breeze was met with a welcome sigh of relief. Eventually we had to stop after around an hour for a good 10 minutes to have a little to eat before carrying on up. The scenery was lovely though, and turning back revealed the path we’d taken snaking away behind us and Ullswater cradled between the hills. Eventually I spotted the peak of Catstye Cam poking out in the distance and soon after the path did even out. At this point, I threw my hands in the air and cried out in sheer joy. We’d made it! Well, we’d at least completed the hellish slog upwards to gain height. The view ahead of us showed Helvellyn clearly, and Catstye Cam and the valley where Red Tarn – the large lake below Helvellyn- lay.

We carried on walking, much easier now that the breeze had picked up and the path had become flatter, to arrive at Hole in the Wall, which we walked past and down to Red Tarn. We found ourselves a spot on the rocks near Red Tarn and ate lunch. That was nice. We then packed up again and headed up towards Helvellyn, turning off to go up Catstye Cam. From there we had some spectacular views of Ullswater. We didn’t linger too long there, and turned back to head along the top towards Helvellyn and oh, I was a fool to expect just a sloping path. The dirt path turned to steep rock- and that was the way we’d have to scramble up. I was not pleased- my father had promised me no scrambling. I did not want to scramble. But having little choice, I started the harrowing climb up, clinging on to rocks and desperately trying not to look down. It felt never-ending, and I hated every moment, so when I finally pulled myself up to Helvellyn I was more than relieved. I stood and looked about the flat top of the mountain. My father asked my opinion, and I was still grouchy from the climb and declared loudly “THIS IS NOT WORTH THAT.” Nearby, a man laughed. I glared at my father and followed him along the top. And OK, I was wrong, and I admitted to my father as such. Once up on Helvellyn it was more than worth it. The view was: the path we’d come on and Catstye Cam, Red Tarn and Ullswater in the distance, nearby peaks, and the shadows of other mountains. Of course there were sheep right up there too, having no trouble navigating the steep slopes of the mountain. My father and I found a spot to sit to gaze out over Red Tarn and gulp down some more water, and eat some sweets. Eventually my father lay down and promptly fell asleep, whilst I read my book. There was a very cooling breeze up there and I was no longer so stiflingly hot, and it was quiet and peaceful all the way up there, with spectacular views as a bonus. It was very enjoyable just to chill up there- about 850m above where we’d started.

My father woke up after a 10 minute power nap and we set out across the top of Helvellyn towards the adjoining peak of Lower Man. I’m not sure if we ever made it exactly there, but we did make it to some nearby peak, which gave us views of the next valley along, Ullswater still in the distance, and the back of Striding Edge. Behind us, the shadows of more mountains and lakes. Gorgeous.

The views of Striding Edge gave us hope that there would be a path we could take to avoid the rough scramble over the top. Though I was still nervous about getting down. We contemplated carrying along the top to the next peak, which seemed to have a gentler way down, but as it was unknown we decided to go with the devil we knew. We started back up to Helvellyn and had another sit down on the top close to where we’d been earlier. More sweets, more admiring the scenery. Then we had little choice but to go over to Striding Edge and try to get down. By this point it was about 5pm already. The first part of striding edge was all right but then we were met with a challenge, in order to get to the path we’d have to scramble down a sleep stope, littered with loose stones. Nearby was a grassier slope so we gingerly made our way down there instead, me whining the whole time as anxiety gripped me. I did not like this. Striding edge proved to be just as harrowing as getting up to Helvellyn had been. Yes, there was a path…but a loose definition of one. There was much scrambling to be done even after we made it to the path. And it was very exposed. Worse, anxiety started to make me feel slightly light-headed and disoriented…which was obviously not good. Still, there was nowhere to go but down and I persevered, once again concentrating hard and trying not to look down. My dad was wonderful here- guiding me along, holding my hand when necessary, and constantly reassuring me (even it was often in a teasing way.) It carried on for ages- edging along the narrow path and climbing over rocks, before we got to the end and to the Hole in the Wall. We passed through and then had a very lovely walk along nice even grass before we reached the junction to the path that would take us back to Red Tarn. We had to walk back on ourselves a bit but this was perfectly pleasant compared to all that desperate scrambling. Once at Red Tarn we took off our shoes and socks and plunged our feet into the cool water. And so we sat, as the sun begun to slip down towards the edge of Helvellyn, casting a stream of light across the water, our feet dangling in the water, eating chocolate cookies in companionable silence.

After a bit we dried off and put our shoes back on and set out on the path back- a long, twisty gravel affair. It was a bit slippy due to the loose stones, but manageable. The sun was definitely setting by then and it was beautiful. We were following a stream that had several small waterfalls. Eventually we came to a bridge across a low sloping waterfall and there we spotted a heron hunting for fish amongst the rapid flow of water. How lucky! We lingered and watched in amazement.

By that point, it was coming up to 8pm. My thighs were aching, and my fathers feet were killing him. But we had to get back to Glenridding, so on we persevered. My father was eager to get back, worried about my mother being worried about him as there was no signal to call her there, and he set us a rapid pace. Eventually we could cross over to paved road which was easier to walk on, but strangely more painful, but still we slogged on as the sun continued to set and got back to Glenridding just after 9pm, and then we were off home. We got back at 11.30pm, tired and aching but feeling very pleased with ourselves.

Yesterday I had a lovely lie in and woke up stiff and aching. Fun.

We had our first braai of the summer yesterday, in order to celebrate my birthday. It was nice, but my sister was moaning the whole day and I could not help but feel peeved at her stealing my thunder, just a little. My Mom baked me a dairy free chocolate cake whilst I was off with my father on Friday. and a few hours after the braai they brought it out for me- my family did. My Mom had put candles on that read “Happy birthday” and underneath she’d put those alphabet letter magnets to spell out my name. I got sung to and blew out my candles. My Mom pulled the candles out and then I cut into the cake and well, this could be classed as a pinterest fail. yeah, I did not find the recipe on pinterest. but I found it on a random blog and the cake was no where near as delicious as the photos promised, nor as the description made it sound. Shame, my poor mother was crushed. She had tried so hard but sadly the cake was greasy and no where near as rich and chocolatey as expected. I tried to reassure her- the frosting was nice at least! and I badly wanted to say something about the cake too but no.. it was not so great. Really, I do think it is the recipe though. Its the nature of the internet after all- it’s not reliable. and that recipe was definitely off. my poor, poor mother. I ate a slice this morning after breakfast, hoping to reassure her that it was at least edible, but I don’t think I managed to convince her. I feel so bad …I gave her the recipe after all!

Despite a few little things though, this has been an enjoyable weekend.

Now alone

House hunting was not as bad as I was expecting it to be. On Friday my dad and I took the long, meandering journey through the peak district to my university city. The first place was a lovely block of brand new flats, still being constructed, about 10 minutes from a high street and giant supermarket. Alas, the area around it although convenient, seemed not quite as nice. There was a family friendly pub nearby, but there were also clubs. The place seemed to be being developed, but was still an obvious work in progress. We drove to the next place in pouring rain and stood, huddled under our umbrella, only for no one to show up. We phoned the estate agent and they had not sent anyone, and could not as they had lost the keys. The area was dodgy, right next to the train line, and even from the outside the flat looked insecure and run down and clearly the management of the place was shaky. That place was out. We got back in the car and drove home. I felt bad, guilty almost, as my dad was clearly tired from all that driving, which in the end had been for very little. I was left wishing I’d scheduled more for the day, wishing that somehow I could have made it so that second viewing had gone differently.

On Saturday we took the quicker route down to the City but ended up stuck in traffic- only just managing to make our appointment on time. It was a little house in a quiet residential area on the outskirts of the city. We knocked on the door and the current tenants let us inside to have a look around- tiny kitchen, tiny living room, twisting stairs to a tiny landing, a small bathroom and large bedroom with internal storage. I had already fallen in love with the area and I fell in love a little more looking at the place- this small, slightly shabby, quiet little house. It was just the area that was as much as a let down as an appeal- it seemed very far from everything. And although I was obviously keen my father was hesitant- preferring the flat we’d seen the day before. So I pushed it to the back of my mind to focus on viewing the rest. Back to the car, and we discussed it as we headed back to an area we’d seen the day before, driving around that previous flat before stopping at ASDA for an unhealthy lunch of pastries and donuts. We drove to the next viewing only for it to be cancelled 10 minutes beforehand. Which was great, especially as I’d been quite keen on that apartment. Oh well, we had a lot of time to kill until our next appointment so we went to a nearby nature reserve and had a little walk around the lake there. There were mostly ducks and geese there, and far too many cyclists taking up the pathways, but it was still rather pleasant. Despite this I was quiet, withdrawn, deep in thought. House hunting had long started to overwhelm me and I wanted to concede to whatever, just so I could go home and be done with it. We still had one more place to go though. That last apartment turned out to be wonderful- with a huge, airy kitchen- but between all the initial fees and the rent, far too expensive. And something about it did not feel right- it was a gut instinct. More realistically, they had a lot of interest in the place (it was a group viewing) and I did not think I would get it, and did not want it enough to try even. We took the long route home then, turning off on a new, unfamiliar road to take a different route through the peak district. It was almost like Japan- twisting, narrow roads, forest on both sides, but tamer, less lush, quieter with no cicadas crying out. I do think it is pretty though- and many of the villages in the peak district are charming with the old stone houses.

So we’d driven for three hours both ways, on two days, to see 6 places, which had become 5 when one was cancelled before Friday, which eventually became 3 due to last minute cancellations and agents not showing up. In the end we ruled out the last place and got it down to 2. I was all about the house- but my dad was pushing for the apartment. We discussed it on Sunday morning, after a lot of thinking about it on both our parts. I’d reluctantly steered myself towards agreeing to the flat, but my father surprised me by telling me he actually agreed with the house. I had researched it and found it was the same distance as the flat from uni, on a cheaper bus, and 15 minutes from a store, which I think aided his sudden turn around. Nonetheless I was ecstatic, but nervous too. What if I didn’t get it? I phoned them bright and early Monday morning and thankfully there had been no offers. Monday morning, I sat down and filled out forms with the my father then we sent them off and since then, its just waiting for everything to go through. I phoned them up yesterday and it does seem like I may have this little place, which is rather exciting.

I cannot wait to live by myself, away from other students and their noise and their filth. The only thing that’s begun to worry me now is that this place comes unfurnished and the more I think about it the more I realize how much an expense it is going to be buying appliances, kitchen items, furniture… and what on earth am I supposed to do with all those things later on, when I likely move back home whilst searching for a job? I know I’m thinking too much about this, and I’ve not even got the place yet so I don’t know why I’m painting pictures of how I want to fill it with all my things. But still, I’m filled with anticipation. The prospect of moving to my own place is both exciting and also a little nerve wrecking. I’ve never really done anything like this before. My foundation year, I lived at home. My first and second years, I was in halls. Now I’m really going to be on my own. Probably in my own house. It’s brilliant.

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