Living like a local (2)

So now we have moved into the apartment where we will be for the next month.  I say moved in, because it doesn't feel like a place we are visiting, but rather a second home -- like  we used to feel about the Collingwood condo.  The same lady checked us in as in previous years.  She even had the extra teapot and sheets that we always ask for, waiting for us in the apartment.  It really feels like going home.

There is great deal of building happening.  Fields within the city, which even last year had grazing cows, are now getting multi-storey buildings.  There is a huge new retail space going up next to Decathlon.  The access is even changing the road system in the area.  But we also hear that a lot of the little old shops, especially in the old part of town, are closing.  I guess it is a generational thing.  We have no idea as to the economic state of this island, or the future prospects.  

As part of the 'living like a local' idea, I have bought flour, sugar, baking powder, etc to do some baking.  I tried a quick bread this afternoon, and it was fairly successful.  It will be interesting to see how the different ingredients change some of my basic recipes. And, having 4 weeks here, it made sense to buy the ingredients to have on hand for future experiments.

There is a new ship in the harbour -- in fact two of the same -- huge cable laying vessels.  The look very different from what normally comes into the harbour.

Tomorrow I pick up the bicycle!!

Living like a local

 When I return to Millgrove or Hamilton, I look for what is different from when I lived there.  Over the years and now, the same observations are made concerning the Niagara area.  Today I found myself thinking and reviewing Ponta Delgada in that way.  It's a place I have lived (rather than just visited) and it feels good to be back, especially when it was 18 degrees and sunny this afternoon.

The little corner grocery stores have been taken over in many places by SPAR, the German mini grocery chain.  The former crowded and dingy old shops are now bright and more spacious.  The locals bemoan the loss of the traditional venues, but I like the change.

The market has finally reopened on the main floor of the building.  For the last 4 years it has been stuck in the basement carpark.  The renovated space is bright and clean with cafes and other little shops.  Being Wednesday, most of the meat and all of the fish people were absent, but it should be great on a Saturday. But I still couldn't get a package of spores to grow a tree fern.

The place to get your minibus monthly pass has changed, but we found it no problem, got our free passes for February (we brought along the cards we got last year and they just needed validation) and even a special letter that allows each of us to ride free this week. Being a senior is rewarding!

Our favourite garden has now put a permanent fence around the Australian Moreton Bay fig tree.  Last year there had been a wind storm and two of the branches of the spreading tree had broken off.  There was a temporary fence.  I guess they don't want to take any chances for the tourists.

When I was in my twenties, I was quite envious of Allan's sister and her husband who had year-long sabbaticals in Europe.  As Allan followed the business path instead of the academic, that never became a reality for us.  But coming here now for 11 years, and spending an increasing amount of time -- this year it will be 5 weeks-- it comes close to living in Europe like a local.

Rainy days and Mondays

Rainy days and Mondays don't get me down (like the song suggests), but they do present challenges when on vacation.  Rain, because most of what I want to see here on Terceira is outside -- a verdant and lush landscape.  Mondays, because, when it rains and you want to go and see a museum or gallery, they are often closed on a Monday.

So, it's a very good thing that we checked the weather on Saturday evening when we arrived here and decided that our outdoor  exploring should be done on Sunday, not Monday.  There is an old volcanic cone at the south of the island, just by the main city of Agra do Heroismo.  It erupted as an island and then grew to join the mainland.  It's a tall piece of real estate but there are well maintained walking paths with water and washrooms along the way for the hikers who take on the 7.4 km walk to the top and around.  The fort overlooking the harbour is still in use by the military, but the guns on the promontory are not usable.

Thanks to Google Lens, I can now identify plants easily (even get a price for them).  

The views of the city and the ocean are spectacular.  You can do your workout up here overlooking the harbour.

Our hotel backs onto the major city garden -- a well kept showcase of plants from around the world.  Those Portuguese sailors brought back all kinds of things from their explorations.  

And the cooking on this island is slightly different from the big island of San Miguel.  What fun to discover a new pastry flavour -- mulata is a slightly spicy flavour from a roasted pepper.  

And when you are spending most of the day inside, you can start on some projects.  I have begun my memory book for this, my 75th year.  It will be 'Every Picture tells a story" and talk about all the things in out house that have a story attached.  Also, I have taken on a crochet project different from the high volume hats and blankets that I usually do.  This requires almost no material as the yarn is just a thread, but I managed my first snowflake.  Not perfect, but promising.

Waxing poetic?

 Well, not poetic, but at least thoughtful.  I guess sitting at the airport with just waiting time brings me to thinking.  The view out the window is cloudy with rain.  The high peaks of the Alps are not visible, but the world of the airport marches on.

Having spent most of this trip not in 'super tourist' mode, I truly appreciate the hospitality shown me, both in Germany and France.  I love seeing the everyday life of my friends and family, visiting their grocery stores and garden centers, joining them on excursions they take, enjoying the restaurants they frequent.  Life is good, though varied.  And that is what travel is about for me:  seeing that routines, choices, opinions and methods, different from my usual, also work perfectly well.  

Yesterday was Lindt chocolate day.  There was lots of information and plenty of chocolate to sample.  A success for all.

Next year I turn 75.  After that, travel insurance becomes much more expensive.  I plan to get my travelling in before that Oct. date.

Gardening

My first garden was a patch about 1m wide and 4m long along the driveway at the farm.  That garden is still there, now being tended by the new Mrs. Locher.  I remember how delighted I was to have my own space.  

In subsequent houses, I have had many gardens, some established when I got there and just needed enlarging, embellishing  or total revamping, some that I planned and brought to life.  I have taken some courses in plant culture, but most of my gardening knowledge comes first from my Mother and then by trial and error.  Yes, there have been mistakes and failures, but for me, a garden has always been a joy.  I used to say that as long as I had a garden I didn't need a therapist.  It turned out that was wrong, but gardening is therapy.  My kids used to say that 'Mom plays in the dirt'.  True, true.

And I have gardened in many places.  In my own places in London, Millgrove, Hamilton and now Chippawa, I have refined my techniques and decided on what plants I have to have.  I have worked in other gardens for friends and family at home and abroad.  I tend my brother's garden which I helped his late wife plant.  I have pulled out invasive species -- even the lupins in Sweden.  

This week I had the opportunity to work in a lovely garden in France.  It is quite different from my own and has some plants which I can only dream of, but most of the weeds are the same and mulching helps here as much as at home.

Just before I left home, there was an unusual spike in the pot with the bird of paradise.  Indeed it was a flower, of which I saw just the beginning, but Ian has been sending me a picture each day so I can delight in the opening blossom.  It will probably be finished by the time I get home, but I am enjoying it, and as my father would say:  You can't hunt all the rabbits.  And when I get home, there will be lovely things to see even if they are not orange.

Living

 Rhonda picked me up at the Basel train station and we came here to her and Robert's house in Habsheim.  We talked and talked, the way we always do.  She brought me up to date on family and friends and I did the same.  We walked around the garden and the village and talked.  We set up a picture puzzle and pulled out paintings to take to a shop and talked.  We drove to the supermarket and the craft store and talked.  We stopped for lunch and talked.  But in everything, we also laughed.  We have always laughed together, through difficult times and happy times.  I guess that's what makes for a lasting friendship, being able to share the hurdles of life and still find the positive.

An alternate life

 My cousin Johanna was sent to a convent boarding school for 4 years -- the last part of her regular school time.  It was the suggestion of a great aunt who lived in the region and thought it would be good for a young lady, perhaps even secretly hoping that she would choose to become a nun.

Well Johanna went, met some great teachers and friends, but did not take up the habit.  But she has kept up contact with the convent, which since, is no longer a school but now a retreat centre and hotel.  However, the Sisters still reside there and a number of the ones who Johanna had as teachers are still living and remember her.  Back at the end of July, the class of 9 girls had a reunion at the Bonland Kloster.  The building has changed, of course, but there are still gardens and the church as she remembers.  How interesting to hear the details of a schooling so different to mine.  We had coffee and cake at the Kloster and I met Sister Cecilia who was the head music teacher and played the organ in the church.  Since her hearing started to have difficulties, she only plays in the Sisters' chapel.

My grandfather was buried in Rot an der Rot, and although the grave is gone (they are only kept for 20 years) we visited the cemetery and sat in the funeral church.

I need to put in a big MMM for food in Oberschwaben.  They make wonderful roast, great schnitzel, lovely mixed salads, impressive tortes and superb spaetzle.  They were a favourite when I was growing up, my kids loved them, and now the grandchildren in both Canada and Sweden choose them for their special meals.  With a onion gravy, a mushroom cream sauce or cheese, they are fabulous!

And now I leave Germany and head for France, via Switzerland.