buon appetito!

rosemary and crushed chili with bit of s and p and olive oil on sweet potatos and cubed onions. mushed up bits of bacon fat, coriander, garam masala, cumin, lime pickle, bit of lemon juice and whole grain mustard and filled under chicken skin. shoved all the leftovers, lemon rind inside chicken. placed on top of bed of potatos, draped bacon strips over the chicken...

yum!

i drank it with a purple grape juice and sparkling water cocktail which i proceeded to kick all over the white carpet and then spent 2 hours scrubbing and soaking and throwing every wives' tale concoction i could think of onto the floor mixed with plenty of "oh LIZZI!'s" and "oh please work!'s"

salsacita, la vida oscura

everything is more profound when set to the Avatar soundtrack.

it feels like i've triumphed over terribly trying trials!

when really i've just had a wee and am leaving the lorry park, back to the open road...

more sights and sounds from the road

Most of the time when I'm driving around, I'm gasping at the amazing, novel scenery.

LOOK AT ALL THE MUUUUUSTAAAAAARD!

por ejemplo.

this on the other hand is more of the "usual view"...

complicated in the alps when I was flipping out and trying to video waterfalls for pierre.

one of the best views in all of france!

apparently I am greatly revered and loved by the french!

so much so that someone is making money off of the merchandise of this love!

or maybe it's La Rochelle.

nous faisons d'escalade!

Somehow between the mayhem of regatta this and regatta that, my very dear friends from Cavalaire-sur-Mer snuck off for a day of rock-climbing just East of St. Tropez.

Céline et moi from the French Navy weather station. Her friend works at this lighthouse atop the hill and let us in for a tour. His daily post is up a 2-story spiral staircase with a 360 degree view. Quelle vue! He was the "markboat" man at the 29er regatta over Easter weekend.

Made it to the top!

rockshot, waiting for fellow climber to come get camera...

not a bad place to hang out for a while.

driving en france!

I spend many long hours in the car, a sola salsacita. which I enjoy very much, I play games like "omnipresent narrator of the ever-popular adventure/fantasy novel that is my life". sometimes I simply combust with "I'M DRIVING THROUGH FRANCE!!!" or Milan, or Munich, or Vienna or through the Alps and there are waterfalls everywhere! And sometimes I think of people I love and talk to them, maybe out loud! and for the in between I have the dreamgirls soundtrack and garrison kieler to keep me company.

i thought the tail lights on this truck looked like little lobsters!

all freeways should have sprightly young boys leaping over mushrooms!

my friends later told me that these sculptures announced a "rest stop" with a children's playground. I saw one later down the road that had a series of large turtle sculptures.

(PJ! a new project for you??)

driving down the UK until...

i'm the little truckicita in the middle! rolling up for a break between the k's...

driving was all good, making great time, arrived in Dover just in time for the last ferry! and wha-BAM! no fuel. No worries! quick stop, car goes chug-a-lug... get through the border, in line for the ferry. Then my turn to turn on and go and - RRRR-RRR-RRR! No sparks. The ferry leaves, and we are abandoned amidst the expanse of concrete. Oh right, that might have been PETROL not Diesel!! Of course my cell phone is out of batteries, naturally. Run to the pay phone to call roadside assistance. "How will we find you?" "Well, I'm all alone in the middle of a huge empty parking lot and I have a trailer full of boats..." The tow-man arrived at 2300 hrs and towed me off to get drained at the local car dealership which was 45 mins away.

This dragon guarded me while I waited for the mechanic to siphon the engine.

All's well, some Great British Pounds exchanged hands, and I was off back to the ferry station. All the while having been "stamped" for entering France. I returned to the ferry parking lot at 0230 and waited for the next ferry at 0800.

it was a cold night at Dover no.7, I had to keep waking up and turning the engine on to keep warm about every 40 minutes...

backlog blog

there has been there has been.

and now that this is so, i'm afraid that anything i write will not be believed, for i hardly believe everything myself. is autobiography rendered fiction if the protagonist herself cannot trust the verity of the plot?

this week alone i have met 2 kings, been to 5 different countries - went skiff sailing in 3!

just now I came off the water from sailing on lake balaton in hungary, southwest of Budapest. there was little wind, and i rigged up with the president of the 49er sailing class and went for a sola sail on the water. after so much engagement and meetings and introduction as i begin the long lobbying process for reconfiguring olympic sailing (big project!), need to be reminded of why we do it all in the first place.

a soft upwind, and then an easy kite run lazily hanging on the wire, and as i rounded up for another lap, a zodiac full of kids zoomed up and i invited one on board - he's a 49er sailor from the local sailing club. they're heading to Garda tomorrow for an event, and i'm invited... when i get off the water the whole of the staff at the local club bustle to the water's edge and help me pull my boat out, roll sails, blades in bags, the zips and clips of the cover at last.

"kosonum" i say with a smile, my eyes brimming with the joy emanating from within. a thank you so true it's hard to say anything more.

driving down the UK

bunnies at the petrol station!

i mean DIESEL station... it's a DIESEL station.

we're making a DIESEL stop to put some DIESEL in the tank...