Travel

Ejo #61 – Status Quo (Not Coming Home)

Learning About Dubai, Travel, Writing, , , , , , , , One comment

So, I don’t need to tell anyone how I feel about Dubai. We all know. No need to beat that dead horse. So surely, given the opportunity to leave this joint and go back home to Australia, I would jump at the chance, right?? Well, I guess if that had been the case, this ejo would have a very different title. Something along the lines of “Ejo #61 – Escape At Last” or “Ejo #61 – Fuck Off Dubai, We’re Going Home” or similar. You get the gist. As it is, my ejo this month is not about the colossally magnificent news that we’re packing up and moving back to Australia. Nope. It’s about having the opportunity to do so, carefully (oh, so very carefully) considering it and then rejecting it.

For the first time since we’ve moved to Dubai (way, way back in October 2008) Airservices Australia (the country’s only Air Navigation Service Provider – and our previous employer) has opened up recruitment to overseas air traffic controllers. When we first heard about it David and I kind of looked at each other sideways trying to assess how the other felt about the possibility of chucking it in here and finally heading back from whence we came.  Neither of us wanted to ask the question, and neither of us wanted to answer it.  But we both knew what the question was: Are we ready to go home?

Eventually we got around to talking about it.  The conversations would go something like this:

“So, do you want to apply?”

“I’m not sure.  Do you?”

“Not sure”.

In the end we decided that we would write to the recruitment people and ask them a few questions.  Dealbreakers like where we could expect to get placed and whether or not we could expect to get placed in the same city.  If Rockhampton was our only option, the scenario instantly became less palatable.  And if one of us could go to Melbourne but the other would be placed in Sydney, same deal.  I’ve always said that my marriage is more important to me than my career, and I’m not about to start a long distance relationship with David now.

When they got back to us we discovered that Melbourne Tower was not even on the board.  This drastically reduced the attractiveness of the idea of moving back for me.  If I go home, it’s to go home.  And for me, that’s Melbourne.  If I’m living in Sydney or, even worse, Perth then I’m not home and I might as well stay where I am.  Don’t get me wrong, I don’t have anything against either of those places, but the deal would be made a lot sweeter if we had the chance to move directly to Melbourne.

In case you didn’t know, the main reason that David and I moved to Dubai in the first place was an increasing level of disenchantment with the management style of Airservices Australia.  When we first got to Dubai, our employer was the sharing and caring antidote to that and we were happy.  Unfortunately, over the years our current employers’ management style has rapidly deteriorated to the same level as we were experiencing back home.  I’m talking about deceit, derision and downright hostility towards their air traffic controllers.  Morale here is not good.  People are resigning in droves and returning to their home countries leaving behind radar units and towers that are painfully short staffed.  The company is unable to recruit air traffic controllers from elsewhere because they aren’t offering an attractive enough package.  And we’re not just disenchanted, but also disillusioned and disengaged.  So it ain’t a happy place.

So why do we stay?  Let me make you a list of things I miss from Australia.

* my family

* my friends

* coffee (oh my god, the coffee)

* no smoking in restaurants, bars and cafes

* the weather

* the amazing restaurant scene

* the sound of birds

* the lack of in-your-face racism

* the culture

* our house

* our neighbourhood

* road rules

* clean air

* trees, plants, flowers, the colour green

* jobs done by those who want to do them, rather than jobs determined by nationality

* quality healthcare

* good service

* not being called sir EVER AGAIN

* being able to wear whatever I like

* being able to kiss my husband in public

* being able to swear in public (I’ve started doing this here and think I’d best stop)

* not being afraid to be drunk in public for fear of being arrested

* not being afraid of being thrown in jail for no good reason

* being able to flip people the bird if I feel like it (it’s the principle)

* great fashion

* reliable mail

* no freaking construction

* no sand EVERYWHERE

* Madame Brussels

* cleaning ladies not being terrified that I’m going to beat them

* pornography (again, not something I necessarily want, but give me the choice god damn it)

* freedom of speech

* reading magazines where they call it wine and beer, not grape and hops

* bacon, oh crispy bacon

* being able to log onto Skype, Spotify etc. without having to hide my location using a VPN

* the countryside

* being able to ski within three hours of the city

* OPSM (seriously, I’ve never had a pair of prescription glasses made properly here)

* no in-your-face wasta

* people that turn their headlights on at night (der)

* wineries

* skilled tradespeople

* OH&S

* minimum wage

* human rights (OK, Australia’s record of that isn’t so great either, but at least you aren’t subjected to it on a daily basis)

* recycling

* addresses (there’s no street name/number system here – you navigate using landmarks)

* great live music scene

* people washing their own damn cars

* not needing the aircon on 24/7

* good hairdressers*

 

I really could go on, but I think you get the idea.  Now I’ll list what I would miss about Dubai if we were to move back home.

* the travel.
 

 

 

 

 

 

Well, maybe the cheap and plentiful taxis too.  And that’s about it.  But that one thing, right now, is worth sacrificing all those other things that I miss about home.  I’m not done travelling yet.  I don’t know if I ever will be.  I’ve got a severe case of wanderlust, and I’ve got it bad.  And living here allows me to regularly, and frequently, scratch that itch in a way that I wouldn’t be able to do from Australia.  So I forfeit my family and my friends and great coffee in exchange for being able to see the world.  I can’t even say if it’s a fair exchange.  I just know that I’m not ready to give it up yet.  And (thank goodness) neither is David.  If one of us wanted to go home, we have agreed that we would go.  But for now we’re staying.

In other news, we are coming home in February for a  couple of weeks so that we can get our fix of all those things we miss about it.  Best of both worlds.

 

 

* If anyone can recommend a GREAT hairdresser in Melbourne, I’d be extremely grateful.

Ejo #58 – In Search Of The Perfect Margarita

Food, Photographs, Travel, United States of America, , , , , , , , , , View all 4 comments

Hello, my name is Chryss, and I enjoy drinking alcohol. In fact, I really, really enjoy drinking alcohol. And I think that’s OK. I’m not ashamed. I won’t go so far as to claim (as a fabulous friend of mine once did) that “I just don’t trust people who don’t drink”. But c’mon, they’re certainly not as much fun! There is something to be said for the shared experience of enjoying a well-made tipple – whether it be a fine glass of wine, a nicely balanced cocktail or an ice-cold beer on a warm summer’s day.

It’s funny how certain drinks go in and out of style. Chardonnay spent many years in the wilderness, before making a fashionable comeback. Gin too is enjoying a very popular resurrection, while the Cosmopolitan is now considered a little bit daggy and retro (albeit still a classic).

In the spirit world, tequila has drawn what I think is an unfairly short straw. I guess the reason is that so many of us chalked up at least one bad tequila experience during our misspent youths. Usually it involved the kind of tequila that comes with a little red hat on the bottle. Ugh!!! I remember quite well the epic evening that caused me to exile tequila for two long (tumbleweed-strewn) decades. Actually, I don’t remember the evening at all – but I do clearly remember the aftermath. There was pain, there was vomit, there was shame. Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about. You’ve been there.

Shudder

Shudder

But tequila is not just a drink young people employ to get drunk. Just like the more respected beverages of whiskey and wine, tequila has a spectrum of quality that ranges from paintstripper to fine libations ripe for enjoyment and appreciation. And just like those other forms of alcohol, fine tequila takes on flavours and nuances from its terroir and from the aging process. For instance, Extra Añejo is aged for a minimum of 36 months in oak barrels, and this process tends to mellow it, making it an enjoyable drink to sip. Don’t you even think about lick-sip-sucking Extra Añejo. In fact, don’t “slam” tequila at all. Ever. OK? Show some respect, please.

Dangerous

Dangerous

Now, just because I have come to appreciate tequila for the fine liquor it is, doesn’t make me a tequila snob. Not in the least. Actually, some tequila snobs might look down their noses at me because my favourite way to drink it is mixed in a margarita. It was this humble (though much-abused) cocktail that lured me back to tequila, after so many years apart. And I admit that when I first started drinking margaritas, my long-held disdain for tequila led me to drink some pretty, pretty bad versions. Margaritas sweetened with sugar syrup. Margaritas made with pre-made sour mix. Flavoured margaritas. Even writing these words makes me gag. Blech! I might not be a tequila snob, but I sure as hell am a margarita snob. And I have Las Vegas to thank for that.

David and I first went to Vegas in 2007. We were young and naïve, so we did the silly tourist thing of walking around with giant yard glasses of unnaturally bright green, slushy “margaritas”. The memory makes me cringe. Thank god then, that the next time we went to Las Vegas, in 2011, we met George, the bartender at Mesa, a restaurant in Caesar’s Palace. George’s margaritas were an epiphany, and drinking them opened up the world of tequila in a whole new way to me. He used Partida, a quality silver tequila (this, youngest style of tequila, is also the crispest and cleanest which makes it ideal for mixing in cocktails). He squeezed fresh limes to order. He added a “secret” ingredient* to the shaker before agitating it. He served the drink in a chilled martini glass. Without ice. In short, George blew my fucking mind. What was this drink? It was like nothing I’d ever had before. And just like that, George turned me into a margarita snob. As a memento, he also gave me the silver emblem that wraps with a piece of leather around the neck of the bottle; aka the Partida Spirit Bird. I still have it.

The Partida Spirit Bird emblem. I proudly wear this as a necklace.

The Partida Spirit Bird emblem. I proudly wear this as a necklace.

Wearing my Partida Spirit Bird.

Wearing my Partida Spirit Bird.

The lure of a quality margarita is so great, that when we went back to Vegas this year, we headed straight to Mesa looking for George. As luck would have it, he’d gone back behind the bar just a few days earlier, after spending the preceding three years working the floor of the restaurant. Perhaps there is a god. He made them for us and they were as good as we remember. The best margaritas. Ever.

The ultimate margarita. Time and time again. This one celebrated a poker tournament win.

The ultimate margarita. Time and time again. This one celebrated a poker tournament win.

At the beginning of this year’s USA holiday, David and I decided that we’d make it a Margarita Tour of California/Nevada. We enjoyed margaritas on 24 days of our 25 day holiday. And that ain’t bad (the one, dreadful, day we didn’t indulge was the result of the Curious Case Of The Misplaced Tequila Bottle while camping in the Nevada desert). During our holiday, we had some great margaritas, we had some average margaritas and we had some interesting margaritas. Margaritas, margaritas, margaritas!!!!

Mystery Haight Street Bar - This is what a margarita SHOULDN'T look like. I mean, a mason jar??? Really???? The taste disappointed too. We stuck to Mexican joints from then on. Lesson learned.

Mystery Haight Street Bar – This is what a margarita SHOULDN’T look like. I mean, a mason jar??? Really???? The taste disappointed too. We stuck to Mexican joints from then on. Lesson learned.

Tommy's Mexican - we waited six years for this pitcher of Partida margarita. And it was gooooooooood.

Tommy’s Mexican – we waited six years for this pitcher of Partida margarita. And it was gooooooooood.

Tacolicious - The bar, Mosto, was closed but the restaurant still served margaritas (thank god, right!!?).

Tacolicious – The bar, Mosto, was closed but the restaurant still served margaritas (thank god, right!!?).

Mosto - We went back the next day when the bar was open and had some margaritas.

Mosto – We went back the next day when the bar was open and had some margaritas.

Mosto - You can't make a margarita without fresh lime. Not in my book anyway.

Mosto – You can’t make a margarita without fresh lime. Not in my book anyway.

Mosto - We also had some mezcal. Very popular right now. It was nice, but it wasn't a margarita.

Mosto – We also had some mezcal. Very popular right now. It was nice, but it wasn’t a margarita.

Lóló - quirky restaurant with quirky (but really good) margaritas. Loved the chilli salt rim.

Lóló – quirky restaurant with quirky (but really good) margaritas. Loved the chilli salt rim.

La Rondalla - This was a recommendation from a friend. They made the margaritas fresh (on request) and they made them good.

La Rondalla – This was a recommendation from a friend. They made the margaritas fresh (on request) and they made them good.

As a happy ending to this story, David and I actually bought some (rather elusive) Partida tequila whilst out one day in San Francisco (the fact that we lugged the five bottles, four strenuous miles home, up the vertical streets of San Francisco, just makes them even more special). Ever since learning from George how to make the perfect margarita three and a half years ago, we have enjoyed magnificent margaritas at home, usually made with Patrón or Don Julio (both very good tequilas). But now, people, NOW, we’ll be making them with Partida!!!! In any case, we will always have a toast to George!

 

 

* It’s a dash of water. Yup, a simple dash of water makes a world of difference to the final product. Try it sometime.

Ejo #54 – Adine: A Beautiful Place To Stay In The Tuscan Countryside

Food, Italy, Photographs, Travel, , , , , , , , , , View all 4 comments

There is a place, deep in the Tuscan countryside, that surreptitiously stole a little piece of my heart 12 years ago. It’s a piece I don’t mind having lost, because I am compelled time and time again to return to the scene of the “crime”, leaving behind a little bit more on each visit. It has been said that home is where the heart is. And I believe this to be true.

Image

The hills in Tuscany really do roll!!!

To wit, I am a 100% Greek-blooded, born-and-bred Australian, living in Dubai for the last several years. I am sad to say that I have never felt (or in the case of Australia, no longer feel) at home in any of these places. Don’t get me wrong – I love Australia and I will always have a home there (thanks Mum), and I’m sure that if I was to move back, the feeling of being at home would return. But I’ve increasingly started to feel like a tourist whenever I visit my own home town. And Greece? Forget about it – I’ve never belonged there. It’s nice to visit, but that’s about it. So, what about Dubai? Well, my heart simply doesn’t think very much of the place, so even after more than 5½ years it still doesn’t feel like home.

So why do I stay in this place that my heart holds in such contempt? One reason, and one reason only. It’s the travel. It’s the opportunity to explore this magnificent planet of ours and discover places in the world that feel like home, not because I live there or because it’s where my family are from, but because they resonate with me. Home becomes the place which embraces me as I am and the place I actually feel I belong.

In 2012 we travelled 100,032 kilometres in the air. In 2013 it was 106,097km. And 2014 is shaping up to be a 104,365km kind of year. You would think that with all those airmiles we would have travelled to some pretty amazing places. And you would be right. Absolutely spot on! I give you full permission to hate on me for a few moments. I mean, shit, I would. But, I would like to point out that amazing places don’t necessarily equate to places you could spend the rest of your life. Of all the incredible cities, towns, and one horse villages we’ve been to, only a couple have fulfilled that criteria for me. Of course, it is no secret that I am helplessly in the grip of a torrid, passionate love affair with Amsterdam. Enough said about Amsterdam. Today I am going to introduce you to my other happy place. A place that envelopes me with love whenever I visit.

Image

Avenues like this are a mainstay of the Tuscan countryside. What’s not to love.

Let me tell you about Adine. Adine is a tiny hamlet nestled in the rolling hills of Chianti, about 25km north of the beautiful city of Siena. Consisting of less than a dozen properties, it has been standing watch over picturesque vineyards and fertile olive groves since the 11th century. Next time you think about updating your iPhone to the latest model, have a think about how old that really is. These houses made from rough-hewn stone have been standing their ground since the Middle Ages. Literally.

Image

The chapel at Adine. Did people really congregate here 1000 years ago? Yes, they did.

I first stayed at Adine in 2002, with an ex-boyfriend and some friends in a villa apartment owned by the lovely Simonetta Palazio. I admit that I fell in love with Simonetta the moment I saw her. And I swear it wasn’t because she’d baked me the most incredible apple cake as a welcome gift (well, maybe it had a little bit to do with that). With a halo of white hair surrounding soft eyes and a gentle smile, she is easy to love. She is “simpatico”. After a week spent in Il Ghiro (one of the two villa apartments owned by Simonetta), we became firm friends. It’s been a friendship that has lasted great swathes of time and distance, to develop into something akin to family. Perhaps Simo is the reason I feel so at home when I am in Adine.

Image

The kitchen in Il Ghiro. The sink is the original (yep, from the 11th century). Mindboggling. The flan is blueberry and yummy (compliments of Simonetta!!). I can always count on a delicious welcome gift from my friend’s kitchen. Delizioso!!!

A little bit of history. Simonetta bought her villa in the hamlet of Adine 20 years ago. When she first moved in there was no heating, and she and her youngest daughter Manu would sleep in front of the fireplace wrapped in blankets, with woolen hats on their heads to keep warm. After separating from her husband (whom she’d been with for 38 years), Simonetta fell into depression and loneliness. She decided to rent out one of the rooms in her home for some company. Though the idea was spawned from necessity (some company, and a little extra money) she loved it. She enjoyed meeting people, and made friends with many of her guests (including me).

Image

One of the most incredible spots on earth – Simonetta’s terrace. Overlooking Tuscan landscape, there is nowhere better to contemplate life, drink a glass of red wine and unwind. Bliss. Simonetta started off serving breakfast to her guests on the terrazza – her guests are welcome to sit out there whenever they like.

 

Image

Sit down with a book and a bold red wine. What better way to spend an afternoon.

Simonetta, apart from being a loving and hospitable host is also a very talented cook. She took this skill and expanded her homestay experience to include cooking lessons. She was actually so good at it that for many years she was part of a group that travelled the world giving cooking classes (Max, from Red Hill Estate in Victoria, Australia is a fan and a friend). She has given that up now but still takes bookings for her two beautiful apartments and will also give cooking lessons if you ask her nicely. I have such fond memories of being invited to watch as she has whipped up some fresh pasta, or a red pepper marmalade or delicious dessert. And I’ve been luckier still to have feasted with her and her family on special occasions. Oh my god, the feasting. My mouth waters at the memories. Her specialties are focaccia, trenette al pesto and hazelnut ice-cream (my absolute favourite!!!).

Image

Il Ghiro’s patio overlooking a courtyard and Adine’s chapel. Perfect for breakfast under the Tuscan sun.

 

Image

Buon Appetito. I NEVER cook on holiday. Except when I am in Tuscany. Who needs room service anyway!!!

 

Image

Our effort at one of our favourite dishes: spaghetti con funghi, aglio e olio. Not too shabby!!!

So here’s the thing about staying at Adine. It is a beautiful place, but there are a few things it’s not. It’s not a 5 star hotel. It’s not an expansive, lavishly furnished villa with a swimming pool and daily cleaning service. There is no big screen TV, no air-conditioning, no room service and no gym. So if you’re looking for that kind of experience, perhaps Adine is not for you.

So what is it? It’s genuine, it’s rustic and it’s charming. It’s eating simple foods, the freshness and quality of which burst into song on the plate. It’s history and warm friendship and long walks in unspoiled nature. It’s a heart-expanding sun, made golden orb, settling in for the night over velvety hills. It’s a peace so deep, it actually takes a couple of days to get used to; to unplug. But when you do, the reward is profound. It’s looking outward toward the gorgeous countryside, and finding something special within yourself. It’s wine (we are in Chianti after all). It’s fireflies on a late-summer evening. It’s the cleanest air you’ve ever breathed (unless you’ve been to Antarctica). It is heaven on earth. And if you’d like to experience this little piece of paradise (before Simonetta sells up and moves to Rome to spend more time with her grandson) go to Adine now. Tell Simonetta I sent you. She will surely welcome you with open arms.

Image

Pici is the thick, hand-rolled regional pasta of Siena. I’d have to say it’s my favourite pasta in the world.

 

Image

The walled city of Siena is a labrynthine, cobble-stoned wonderland. Here is the Piazza del Campo at twilight. Magical.

 

Image

A week’s worth of imbibing. Somehow we never suffered a hangover.

 

Image

Simonetta’s gorgeous garden.

 

Image

Siena has some of the best gelati I have ever eaten. My favourite is nocciola!!!!

 

Image

This was taken in 2006 when I visited Adine solo. I was so taken with the countryside I had to stop the car and take a photo.

 

Image

Simo and her beautiful daughter Manu. And one of my favourite puppies on earth, the sadly departed Lyuba.

 

Image

When I see this sign, I know I am moments away from home.

Note: In writing this ejo, I’ve been reminiscing about my previous visits to Adine and poring over old photos.  It has ignited the need to “go home”, as it’s been over three years since I’ve seen my friend Simonetta and spent time in her house.   Yesterday, I booked my ticket for a quick five day visit next month.  That’s how powerful the pull of Adine is.  If you don’t believe me, why don’t you go and see for yourself.  For more photos, please click HERE!