Grand Adventures and Household Chores
Reflections on our family’s adventures as we live, work, and play around the world
To my tastes, Swedish pastries are the best. (Yes, even better than France. Sorry France.)
The helpful and pastry-enthusiastic woman at Bröd & Salt explained that in Sweden, when they use a flavor, they very intensely use the flavor: cardamon, cinnamon, almond, or whatever. This philosophy seems pretty ideal to me, and probably explains why I like the coffee here so much too.
It’s been cold and windy since we arrived, so Theo and I have been regular visitors to Laugardalur, one of Reykjaviks many geothermally heated public pools. Most of the pools are outside, but they are warm enough that once you submerge yourself, you don’t really care that the wind is blowing snow your face. (It’s cheap too; it costs about $3 for me per visit with my 10-visit card, and Theo gets in for free.)
Saturday was a gloriously sunny day, and I stopped by one of Reykjavik’s many ice cream parlors. Between customers, the two young employees would run outside in their t-shirts to bask in the sun on the benches in front of the store. Whenever a customer would approach the door, they’d scurry back inside.
It was about 6 degrees Celsius.
Theo’s past friendships have mostly involved close-proximity independent play, with occasional forays into grabbing toys out of one another’s hands. Honestly, when you’re a toddler, adults are generally more useful and accommodating than your peers. (That being said, Theo does still ask about kids from his daycare, so the desire to connect is there in at least the abstract sense.)
While I love everyone I’m traveling with, I do still sometimes feel overwhelmed by the sheer amount of daily togetherness.
I’ve been involuntarily waking between 5 and 6 am most mornings. Recently, instead of trying (and failing) to fall back asleep, I’ve been using the time to drink coffee in the hammock while enjoying the solitude, periodically interrupted only by hummingbirds, macaws, lizards, and (less welcome) wasps.
I know that we’re in a pretty humid environment, but it still amazes me to watch something go from mushroom to mush in just three days.
As a child in rural Ohio, I’d explore deeply forested areas and sometimes suddenly come to a clearing. Stumbling on a defined, open space among the thickness of the trees and undergrowth felt like something magical; a naturally formed room with a soaring, leafy ceiling.
My sister Joanna spent the summer with us as nanny extraordinaire, before heading back to the United States last week to start her first year of college as a musical theater major. We’ll miss her smiles, random bursts into song, and the opportunity to leave the house for dinner without a toddler in tow. Theo now periodically chides us with “well, Joanna said” or “Joanna would let me” as Brian and I transition back into split work/childcare schedules.
Theo and I have made two visits to the beautiful Recoleta Cemetery in search of the 50 -80 cats that theoretically live there. (Most other cemetery visitors seem to be searching for Eva Perón’s grave.)
One of the (many) things that I love about traveling is experimenting with less familiar flavors and ingredients, both while cooking and eating out. However, up until now my forays into cooking local cuisine have been via solo experimentation. This week, though, I attended an Indonesian cooking class.
Our first stop was the local market.
Continue reading “Experiments in being liberal with garlic, onions, and chilies”