SUPERMARK-RILLERS

Ek’s ‘n dapper man, kyk hoe stap ek deur die mark …

Vanoggend kry ek hulle weer daar – sommer vroegdag al. Hulle is altyd daar, in die supermark.

 

Ek sê en doen (gewoonlik) niks, maar vroulief ken al, na vele sakke sout, my liggaamstaal. “Bedaar, André, bedaar.”

 

Daar is ‘n spiertjie in my wang wat dadelik spring wanneer ek hulle teëkom. Die intensiteit en frekwensie van die spierspringery hang net af van watter een van die mense ek raakloop. Gewoonlik is hulle egter almal daar en teen die tyd dat ons by die kassiere kom, lyk ek soos Chief Inspector Dreyfus in die Pink Panther-flieks.

 

Ek verwys natuurlik na daardie mense wat ‘n vinnige besoek aan die supermark tot kort voor ‘n beroerte kan laat draai.

 

Vanoggend gryp ek ‘n klein trollie, want ek is (dalk altyd?) haastig en het min goedjies om te kry. Die spiertjie spring liggies en net een keer toe ek sien hoe ‘n oorgewig ou – middeljarig – gebukkend oor sy trollie hang met sy arms gesteun op die handvatsel. Ek sê niks, maar ek dink: “Nee man, loop regop – mens is nie so lamlendig nie,” veral toe hy heel behendig rek om ‘n 24-pak bier in sy trollie te laai.

 

In die katkosgang af hoor ek nog ‘n ou sommer van ver af en Wangspier spring sommer twee keer. Sjloef-sjloef kom hy agter sy trollie aan geskuifel. Die sleepvoet-geluid laat my ore suis en my vel vol knoppies uitslaan soos die meisies s’n, destyds, in die klas wanneer juffrou Coetzee se lang naels per ongeluk oor die swartbord geskuur het. Of soos vroulief wanneer sy die roomys se houtstokkie aflek. “Tel op jou voete, tel tog net jou voete op!”

 

Die spiertjie begin warm raak toe ek die ouer man, met sy trollie dwars in die middel van die gang, sien. Hy staan daar voor die koekierak soos iemand wat verdwaal is, besluiteloos, met ‘n uitdrukking van pyn op sy gesig – mond oopgesper, skrefiesoë gly oor die pakkies voor hom. Kry ‘n ander bril, Oom – daai bifocals werk nie meer vir jou nie.

 

Terwyl ek ewe geduldig (mos) wag dat hy sy trollie uit die pad kry, spring wangspier in overdrive toe die vyfjarige klein blikskottel, wat luidkeels aandring om die trollie te stoot, my hakskene vir die derde keer stamp. “Be carefull,” kom dit vir ‘n derde keer van sy ma af terwyl haar kyk in my rigting insinueer dat ek dalk te stadig beweeg. Ek beduie na die trollie voor my en in my kop begin woorde vorm wat ek net-nou, wanneer ek alleen in die kar is, sal uitlaat.

 

Behalwe ook vir die ouens wat ‘n appel loop en eet en die stronk op ‘n blikkie ingelegde worsies gaan wegsteek, die rakpakkers wat die gang blokkeer, die gillende kinders, die koffie wat na ‘n ander rak verskuif is, die twee ou tannies wat in die middel van die gangetjie resepte uitruil …(spiertrek!) … is daar niks waarvoor ek in ‘n supermark skrik nie.

 

Ek dink ek word ‘n grumpy ou man.

WINTER

IN THE DEPTH OF WINTER, I FINALLY LEARNED THAT THERE WAS IN ME AN INVINCIBLE SUMMER – Albert Camus.

LATE AUTUMN IN THE AMBER VALLEY

Listen…
With faint dry sound,
Like steps of passing ghosts,
The leaves, frost-crisp’d, break from the trees
And fall.
(NOVEMBER NIGHT – Adelaide Crapsey)

AFTER THE RAIN

EARLY MONDAY MORNING AFTER A DRENCHED WEEKEND.DAY MONDAY MORNING AFTER A DRENCHED WEEKEND

STOP AND SMELL THE ROSES

In the hustle and bustle of daily life, we often rush past the finer detail around us. We should pause more frequently to fully appreciate the miracles of an unfathomable creation.

 

HIGH PEAK JUNCTION

HIGH PEAK JUNCTION

The early bird catches … a stunning sunrise on a crisp early-autumn morning. 

“The High Peak Junction, near Cromford, Derbyshire, England, is the name now used to describe the site where the former Cromford and High Peak Railway (C&HPR), whose workshops were located here, meets the Cromford Canal. It lies within Derwent Valley Mills World Heritage Site.” (Wikipedia).

The sunset is not too shabby too.

THE MANCHESTER EXPERIENCE

THE MANCHESTER EXPERIENCE

Over the years I’ve had the good fortune to visit many of the larger cities in the United Kingdom. From  Inverness, Stirling and Edinburgh in Scotland, to Sheffield, Nottingham and Birmingham in Middle-England. I’ve been to  Bath, York, Norwich, Cambridge, Chelmsford and Colchester (although not a city, it was for a time the capital of Roman Britain). I have travelled further south to London, Canterbury, Dover, Portsmouth, Brighton and  Southampton, and then north and east to Oxford, Cardiff (in Wales) as well as Limerick and Dublin in Ireland. To name a few.

This past week I have added another city to the list – Manchester, the third-most populous city in the United Kingdom (after London and Birmingham). A city of many cultures, adventures and surprises. From very old Roman (and older) landmarks to hyper-modern skyscrapers and shops.

Many famous people have links with this vibrant city. Big names such as, Albert Finney, one of Britain’s best-loved stage and screen actors and Sir Ben Kingsley, who won international acclaim and an Oscar for his role as the Indian statesman, Mohandas Gandhi in the 1982 film of the same name.

Emmeline Pankhurst, who, in 1903 helped to form Suffragettes, a militant-like group of activists hell-bent on giving women the recognition they deserved.  In 1999, Time Magazine named Pankhurst one of the 100 most important people of the 20th century. 

Maurice, Robin, and Barry Gibb, The Bee Gees, spent their childhood practising their harmonies in a modest terraced house on Keppel Road.

Alan Turing, the Manchester University scientist, is recognised as one of the world’s most influential computer pioneers. He is often credited with founding computing and artificial intelligence as we know it. Originally breaking codes for the Brits during World War II, Turing then went on to become the director of a computer lab at Manchester University.

Oh, and then there are also two of the most famous football teams in the world, but since football is not really my thing, I will not mention it.

One day was definitely not enough to spend in this interesting city.

My son and I started the day with coffee and “The Elvis” – this psychedelic bagel with peanut butter, jam and bacon.

STATUE OF ALAN TURING

MANCHESTER CATHEDRAL

SYMI – THE SECRET GEM

SYMI – THE SECRET GEM

Last, but surely not least (of our Greek experiences) – Symi.

This little gem of an island has no reputation as (or desire, for that matter, to become) a cosmopolitan island and does not compete with islands such as Mykonos and Santorini, known for their nightlife and expensive hotels.

It is said that Michael Douglas and Catherine Zeta-Jones once stepped off their luxurious yacht on Symi island to stretch their sea-legs and  went to one of the many restaurants on the island – and were quite surprised to be able to walk freely there without masses of people and paparazzi tagging along.

Although the island offers several exclusive boutiques, also found  on the more popular, exciting, cosmopolitan islands, Symi comes without the decadence of many of the other ports. Summer is very hot and humid and well-dressed Europeans and other fashion conscious guests temporarily occupy Symi, but there is no jet setting. Visitors are chic but friendly and respectful towards the local environment. Lisandro from Muses once told a journalist, “Princess Caroline of Monaco was here and people thought to themselves: You might be a princess, but you’re not from Symi.”

The harbour welcomes you like a mother welcomes her long lost children – whether you are famous or not. Many famous actors, politicians, ship owners and models have visited the island – Symi is chosen by all who do not want to attract the attention of others and prefer an authentic Greek holiday experience. This is evidenced in the summer by the numerous yachts docking at the port of Symi.

The island oozes Mediterranean charm, as if a stylist has designed it that way and the harbour extends towards crystal clear water where blue chairs and tables are covered with white linen.

It may not be Mykonos or Santorini but it has been a top island for some time – fortunately too small to be noticed by too many people.

IN RHODES HARBOUR WAITING TO DEPART TO SYMI.

SYMI, HERE WE COME!

ARRIVING IN SYMI HARBOUR.

ARE WE BEING OBSERVED?

SHUCKS! GROCERY SHOPPING MUST BE A NIGHTMARE (IF YOU ARE NOT FIT)!

 

OLIVES

DATES AND PRICKLY PEARS

TRYING THE LOCAL CUISINE – SYMI-SHRIMPS (EATEN WITH SHELL AND ALL)

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RHODES – A COLOSSAL EXPERIENCE

RHODES – A COLOSSAL EXPERIENCE

Did you know that there are more than 3000 islands in the Greek archipelago? Three thousand! (Some people say 6000.)

Rhodes Island – affectionately known as the Island of Endless Sunshine –  is one of the larger ones. Rhodes (town), the principle city of the island, is divided into the old town and new town.

Historically, Rhodes was famous worldwide for the Colossus of Rhodes, one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World. Two statues of deer on top of two columns mark the supposed location of this gigantic statue at the entrance to the Mandraki harbour that is guarded by the charming fort of Saint Nicholas that doubled as a lighthouse.

I absolutely lost myself meandering with my camera through the medieval stone-paved alleyways of the old town. Today, Rhodes old town is a UNESCO World Heritage Site. This time capsule exists within the imposing walls built in the 14th century by the Knights of St. John who used the island as their home.

The modern Rhodes, with stretches of white beaches, cobalt-blue sea and exquisite cuisine, was exactly how I had always imagined a Greek island to be.

Next year, if we still walk the earth, we will go back to Rhodes. This time for my daughter’s wedding!

Antio Rodos! Until next year …

THE TWO COLUMNS MARK THE SPOT WHERE THE FEET OF THE COLOSSUS OF RHODES SUPPOSEDLY ONCE STOOD

NEXT YEAR THIS TIME!

WONDERFUL FRIENDS!

 

I HAVE NEVER SEEN SO MANY CATS IN ONE PLACE!

OUZO AND GREEK CUISINE

THIS LITTLE GIRL JUST MADE MY DAY WITH HER HAPPY SALUTATION AND BRIGHT SMILE

NOTE TO SELF: Never! NEVER! Never ever climb on top of a heap of building rubble, gravel and soil to take a picture of the magnificent view on the other side wearing FLIP-FLOPS! No scene is worth it, no matter how beautiful.

ACROPOLIS, THE PARTHENON … AND THE CINEMA

ACROPOLIS, THE PARTHENON … AND THE CINEMA

I remember how ready I was for an argument, all those years back, when a friend told us about his visit to to the Pantheon in Rome. I wanted to correct him – the Pantheon is in Athens, Greece.  Luckily I did not exhibit my ignorance then and kept quite. I’ve seen the Pantheon in Rome since, and now I have been to the Acropolis, the citadel in Athens where the majestic Parthenon stands proud (despite all but being demolished).

The Parthenon was completed in 432BC and, oh boy, what a sight it must have been – towering above everything else. Unfortunately, a series of hostile events led to the destruction of this magnificent showpiece of architecture and in 1687, the final blow came when a Venetian mortar round blew up the gunpowder magazine inside the Parthenon, and the building was partly destroyed. And then the looting started.

It felt almost sacred, walking where Plato, Hippocrates, Socrates, Archimedes and such people, who left an indelible mark on earth, may have walked.

And that night we ended a perfect day in an open-air cinema lower down the slopes of Acropolis, watching Woody Allen’s (not really my cup of tea) latest film with an illuminated Parthenon casting it’s presence over the area. With a mastika ice-cream, topped with a delicious sour cherry sauce, in hand, I was contented.

Magnificent!

(The majority of these pictures were shot at midday in the hottest and brightest of sun. Sorry for the poor quality.)