Idyllic NZ

 

Enjoying the sunset 

From my brother's patio in NZ

Looking out towards Mount Maunganui

Drink in hand

Look at that

 brilliant trail of colour across the sea

An idyllic isle

Thanks for the photos Rainy

Another Life

 LIVING IN GREECE ... A repost 

Imagine having a mother in law who threatened to have the police stop your wedding ceremony, who couldn’t understand that all the world didn’t speak greek, didn’t want her son to marry you because you didn’t have a dowry and couldn’t understand why my brothers didn’t buy a house for me.  An alien culture.

Growing up in the Bay of Plenty.  Growing up in the 60s.  We were free, the world was our oyster.  I remember biking, many miles, with my younger brother , from Te Puke to our bach at Papamoa.  A bach* still there, now prime waterfront real estate** but no longer owned by the family  

In the olden days and up until few years ago  the traffic was constant, the side wind from  logging trucks could have hurled us into the road or over into a silage pit.  No place for 10 year olds on bicycles.  Main highway. 

I haven’t been back since my father’s funeral in September 2006.  20 years. 

** real estate, realestate, relestate.  I had to look that up.  Nowadays a thesaurus is essential equipment as I write.  No longer fluent in English, or Greek

*This bach, small holiday home, was built by my father from an old garage. Basic, long drop loos in the early years and artesian water we had to pump to fill the tank, but right above the waves. 

I used to miss NZ acutely, smells, sounds, accents, family .   Now I’m just as much at home in Greece as I once was back there.  I used to feel rejuvenated as I stepped back on New Zealand soil, back to a place which I knew and understood.  I could understand the language, the laws, those laws which back then Greeks considered so strict and suffocating.  But NZers took for granted and (mostly) obeyed.  I understood the culture, could (sort of) pronounce the Maori place names, and knew my way home even though I had been away for years.  No, amend that.  I did not know how to get out of Auckland.  A huge city surrounded by multi-lane highways.  I was used to just one road, most of it without a white line down the middle, no traffic lights, no pedestrian crossings.

I once got a traffic ticket in Tauranga for parking facing the wrong way.  Is that possible?  I wrote the Council a letter explaining what a law abiding citizen I was BUT also explaining where I came from.  A small greek island where we double parked and left the keys in the car in case someone needed to move it.

Where most roads are so narrow you drive in the middle.  Where, back then, there were no traffic police, no-one wore a helmet or a seat belt.  The right hand rule was probably on the books but you gave way, or not, depending who was approaching and where you met.  One golden rule.  Always give way to taxis.  The Tauranga council cancelled my parking ticket.

My father told us that we should see our own country before leaving and we had summer camping holidays all over the country.  I wish I could remember more about these trips.  I know we loaded up the car with a huge roof rack of tents and tables.  Four kids in a car. Arguing of course. One of my brothers was once turfed out and left on the side of the road. That shut us all up.  We did go back to pick him up, to my relief 

 We visited the far north and went to Coromandel many times.  I remember going down to a farm to get a container of milk from the farmer’s  cows.  All things you just wouldn’t do anymore.  Someone would call child services on you for ‘abandoning’ a child on the sound of the road and milk now has to be sterilized or pasteurized, or both.

I felt, ‘knew’ , when I left New Zealand that  I  wouldn’t be returning for a long time.  It took 11 years before I came back to NZ, with my greek family, and that was only because the extended family rallied round and bought our tickets.

Now my daughter Elli says she feels a very strong tie to NZ, as though she has been born in the wrong country.  My niece Katy says the Maori have a word  for this.   Tangatawhenua, the feeling of belonging.  All my greek family love anything NZ and they’ve all visited except the youngest grandchildren. Daughter  Elli should be living there.  At the moment its hard to even afford the passport.

My downunder family, brothers, beloved sisters in law, the next generation, nephews and nieces all love Poros .  I'm lucky, grateful, that they visit year after year.  

NZers will understand 

Chocolate fish. Iconic treat (thanks Elli, just  a bit of NZ colour)

Mince on Toast

 Mince... or you may call it ground beef

Leftover mince on a piece of toasted bread is true comfort food.  The toast preferably is smothered with real butter. 

When I make a savoury mince sauce for spaghetti bolognaise or pastitsio or moussaka and there's a bit leftover this is the simplest and tastiest dish imaginable. 

Is it NZ or a British recipe? Or Australian.

It's a favourite in our house. Even K actually enjoys it. Not traditional Greek at all. So where are it's origins. I grew up with this. As far as I'm concerned it's a traditional kiwi recipe. 

Simple, no-fuss and hearty.  And apparently still a New Zealand favourite. 

The Guardian says it appeared in British cookbooks as early as 1865.  However it's gone out of fashion in Britain. 

The NZ Herald says the recipe wasn't stolen from the British but rescued. 

The reason I'm writing about it is because it came up as a recipe on an online NZ site.  It doesn't need a recipe for goodness sake. It's an idea. 

I would never make it from scratch, fry the mince, add tomato and spices.  Far too much trouble.  But when you've got leftovers it's the first thing that comes to mind for breakfast, lunch or dinner.   

Leftover mince

a piece of buttered toast, or 2

and maybe

a poached or fried egg on top

If you're a kiwi reading this then you'd probably add sliced avocado too.  They seem to add avo to everything thing these days.  We don't.  They're far too expensive.  Special occasions only

Minced beef is becoming a luxury too.  It's around 12-14 euros a kilo

Greek Menu

 Food

Glorious....Greek food... 

Giant beans stewed with tomato

The essential greek salad 

Grilled sardines

It's not a feast without  octopus. Stewed with oil, oregano and lemon juice. Fried zucchini as a side. 

Fried potatoes seem to come with everything nowadays. Even in Greece

My brother Paul.. 

Eyeing up the selection

I can see prawns there. Probably saganaki. Prawns, or shrimps, with tomatoes and feta

Looks like grilled chicken.

It must have been their last night at Sofia's taverna.

The K approved taverna at the moment.

He looks overwhelmed. Food...again!

Cabbage leaves stuffed with rice and herbs in an egg and lemon sauce.

Delicious in the cold of winter. 

This photo was taken at the maiden aunt's house. A different Ratatouille.  Thin slices of potato, zucchini, onion and tomato. Baked in the oven.

Simple and delicious. Olive oil of course and parsley.

Fish from the Med

Whole fish, scaled and gutted

In the oven with carrots, zucchini, parsley, onions and lots of olive oil

Kali Orexi

Bon Appetit

Enjoy your meal with a healthy appetite 

Today and Yesterday

 Summer heat is continuing still.

The crowds have thinned slightly, nerves aren't so ragged but it aint over yet.

Yes, it's the fa-mouse Poppi

We leave for our holiday on the 18th and she leaves for her school on the 28th so we won't be able to 'engage' her services again until Xmas. We have only seen Poppi in passing this summer so it was wonderful to have her full-on personality and athletic strength for a few hours.  She has spent all summer as a Life-Guard at one of the pools, working long hours

But we have hardly seen any of the family this summer.  Everyone is working long hours.  

I had a list for the girl.  A 'Nana-list'.  

First  job was hauling all the heavier summer chairs, umbrella and tables out to the back verandah, storing and covering them.  Then she cleared a space so we could lay out the big living room carpet and wash it.  It has never been so clean in all it's life.  She got the pressure hose out and got the top dirt off then scrubbed it down with a hard brush.  

Then out into the garden to trim the bougainvillia to an inch of it's life.  That darn thing, and the roses, have been tearing my thin skin to shreds.  This is a white bougainvillia and it doesn't start blooming till the end of September.  It should have shot up again and be full of white blooms by the time we return. 

We trimmed a few pots which have suddenly gone brown and dry.  I can't understand why.  The thyme and oregano and the lavender have lasted years but all of a sudden have started dying out.  They all got the 'bum's rush' as my father used to say.  I'll replace them in October with new plants.

She filled up the car boot with garden rubbish and a few old chairs, hoorah!  Then was on her way, on her motorbike, wearing a helmet, to deliver  bowls of  food I made for the busy family.  Pastitsio and bifteki with potatoes this week.

Pastitsio - a sort of greek lasagna

Bifteki - rissoles, hamburgers, big meatballs, you get the gist

Thank you Poppi Mou

Here she is again

Our Diva!  She rode in on her motorbike while I was visiting her Mother in the expensive bottle store.  I move very warily in there.  Some of the bottles of wine are hundreds of euros and the vodka and whisky are up to almost 1,000

Horrors

Instant tzakiki.  Just add water

You don't even need to buy any yoghurt or peel a cucumber

I visited her Mums shop to say a huge 'thank you' to Danae and her sister Elli.  I had  my hair cut and coloured.  When I went to pay Voula, our favourite hairdresser, she said 'oh you don't owe anything, your girls paid in advance'.  I was truly overcome, had a wee sniffy moment.  How nice

And D gave me this classey back pack

Now I can hold my head up amongst the retired Rear Admiral's wives and the widows of Naval Commanders when we are at the Naval Resort.

Actually I don't think these particular females mix with the hoi polloi.  They have little bungalows at the far end of the bay, right on the water with private beaches and shaded sun loungers.

But the rest can be a bit cliquey.  They arrange to holiday at the same time, wander along the waterline in groups showing off their saggy brown bodies and play Biriba (rummy) at night on their balconies

Yesterday started off with a bang.  The sound of me taking a flying leap along the floor and ending up under the table 2 metres away.

Poor K was woken up by a strangled scream.  He says it's the fastest he's managed to get out of bed in years.

I slipped, tripped, almost made it but went down at the last moment banging my head on the edge of the big heavy dining table.

Fortunately nothing was broken and although rather shaken I managed to get up with a little help.  I had a bloody cheek and have a few bruises but that's all

I went down to get some arnica to put on the wound and Nektaria at the Pharmacy applied some antiseptic cream.  All is well but K is watching me like a hawk in case something else happens.  It won't!!

The orange bougainvillia which grows around the front of the chemist shop.  The colour is amazing and it blooms all summer

The day before all this I was at Galatas visiting inlaws

K had the car serviced so we are all ready for a trip across country

A visit to our old neighbourhood

I had to photo this beautiful bougainvillia in full bloom and the classic blue and white island house

That's it for now folks

 

Darn Comments

 That should read 'Darn Blogger' . I wrote 4 comments this morning on various blogs and couldn't publish any of them.  Then I saw Tigger had the same problem and then 2 others. And I can't reply to the comments on my own blog, if they appear. 

Is Blogger coming to an end and they're trying politely to give us the hint..... Give up and get out. 

I know my posts aren't turning up on everyone's Reading lists when I publish.  That doesn't worry me. I write anyway because I like to.  But not being able to comment, when I want to, is annoying and breaks up this community.

Hope they sort themselves out. I'm not giving up yet

Shovel or Squash?

 Peas squashed on the back of a fork or just shovelled in ?

It's always peas used in the example. You'd think it was difficult to eat peas balancing them on the back of a fork. It's not. You squash them

I eat both ways.  The other day, at a souvlaki shop of all places, I found myself using my knife and fork in the 'correct' English manner to eat my gyro and chips.  K opposite was 'shovelling' in the European manner

Tines up or down? 

. 

Or do you just use your fingers? 

Fingers are quite OK here to eat chips or 

As the Greek saying goes

'Fish, chicken and women should be managed with your hands'