Currently in Oslo, Norway and leaving Europe in about…2 hours! So, here are the last of my Euro pics. Thank you for journeying with me. I couldn’t of done it without you. Happiness is only real when shared. Yeah! 
This one’s for my Japanese followers, a Japanese restaurant in Geneva, Switzerland.
Pacifica in the south of France.
I was so lucky to have access to an abundance of English literature at my auntie’s house. I had missed it (English literature) very much in rural Japan.
Little train in the old town of Antibes (France).
Morning walks by the Mediterranean Sea. Hashtagtakemeback. 
Probably the number one thing I will miss from Europe. This and romantic balconies.
Nice market finds.
Last dinner I prepared for my Spanish family. Mexican from a Persian-Kiwi! Go figure.
Imposter in Nice (France).
Street art in Antibes (France). 
Norwegian wood. Caio Europe!
france
I Hate Travel
Mostly, I hate airports. One, I’m always “randomly” selected for a bomb check (I blame my nose) and two, I am stingy. Meaning, I buy cheap flights on whim thinking, “yeah no big deal,” then comes to flying, and I have 5 flights from France to Nashville (sigh). Big sigh. Here are some “travel” photos.
You know… the airport is the only place you can walk around with no shoes, a glazed look on your face, and sleep on the benches and no one judges you. (Coriander Woodruff, The Call of the Spectacled Owl)
Had a million things to say and none I knew how. I stepped forward and kissed him, like people kiss at airports, full of love and desperate longing, kisses that must imprint themselves on their recipient for the journey, for the weeks, the months ahead. (Jojo Moyes, After You)
Or the woman in front of me in the security line who asked if they would put her cat, Dave, through the luggage X-ray machine because she wanted to see if he’d eaten a necklace. (Jenny Lawson, Furiously Happy: A Funny Book About Horrible Things)
People who meet in airports are seventy-two percent more likely to fall for each other than people who meet anywhere else. (Jennifer E. Smith, The Statistical Probability of Love at First Sight)
Did you ever notice that the first piece of luggage on the carousel never belongs to anyone? (Erma Bombeck)
I Am Always Doing Things I Can’t Do…
…This is how I get to do them. (Pablo Picasso)
Everybody has the same energy potential. The average person wastes his in a dozen little ways. I bring mine to bear on one thing only: my paintings, and everything else is sacrificed to it…myself included. (Pablo Picasso)
Without great solitude, no serious work is possible. (Pablo Picasso)
Jacqueline Picasso or Jacqueline Roque (24 February 1927 – 15 October 1986) is best known as the muse and second wife of Pablo Picasso. Their marriage lasted 11 years until his death, during which time he created over 400 portraits of her, more than any of Picasso’s other loves.
Because You Are Alive, Everything Is Possible.
Been reading a bit of Thich Nhat Hanh. I love him. Even if I can’t pronounce his name. Very inspirational. Just like Antibes. No wonder so many Artists were drawn here (excuse the pun). This light is magical.
People usually consider walking on water or in thin air a miracle. But I think the real miracle is not to walk either on water or in thin air, but to walk on earth. Every day we are engaged in a miracle which we don’t even recognize: a blue sky, white clouds, green leaves, the black, curious eyes of a child — our own two eyes. All is a miracle.
Smile, breathe and go slowly.
If you love someone, the greatest gift you can give them is your presence.
You must be completely awake in the present to enjoy the tea. Only in the awareness of the present, can your hands feel the pleasant warmth of the cup. Only in the present, can you savor the aroma, taste the sweetness, appreciate the delicacy. If you are ruminating about the past, or worrying about the future, you will completely miss the experience of enjoying the cup of tea. You will look down at the cup, and the tea will be gone. Life is like that. If you are not fully present, you will look around and it will be gone. You will have missed the feel, the aroma, the delicacy and beauty of life. It will seem to be speeding past you. The past is finished. Learn from it and let it go. The future is not even here yet. Plan for it, but do not waste your time worrying about it. Worrying is worthless. When you stop ruminating about what has already happened, when you stop worrying about what might never happen, then you will be in the present moment. Then you will begin to experience joy in life.
In The Time French People Sing Hello, A Kiwi Has Told A Whole Story.
So. If you haven’t been keeping up and you don’t know, I am staying in Antibes, in the south of France, in the old town, in an apartment all to my own. The apartment belongs to Anita’s mother’s sister-in-law. Or Anita’s father’s sister.
Anita, is the most beautiful, hard-working and driven Italian girl you’ll ever know. I met her when she started worked for Cafe Valentino. I was her trainer. I still remember sitting her and another young man (Bryn) down and taking them through the menu. “What’s capsicum?” “What’s bacon? “What’s…?” “What’s…?” she mused as Bryn became more and more impatient. The next day, Anita had memorised the entire menu! So, it was no wonder for any of us when she became the restaurant MANAGER so soon. Yes, my boss! But I trained her! My oh my how we joked. And shared pizzas. And talked boys. And ate tiramisu.
Now, I am spending my days with her parents and I love them as I do my own. They are so generous, loving and natural. Daddy Dazzi loves food just as I do, and mama Dazzi knows exactly what to say to make my heart glow.
I really don’t know how I am going to leave. I have fallen in love with Antibes.
(Pizza for entree and pizza for main.)
On my first evening here, Daddy Dazzi treated us to real French Bouillabaisse, a traditional Provençal fish stew originating from the port city of Marseille. The restaurant Daddy had chosen was by far, the most expensive I’ve ever been to. I felt like a queen and my tongue was on fire. I wish you could have tasted it too.
(Daddy’s thumb photography.)
Yesterday, I spent a whole day in Nice with mama. The weather was wonderful and so was she, as per usual. She held my hands, gave me kisses, and loving advice on relationships, marriage, children, and so forth. In between, she gave me a quick French lesson where she taught me to sing my words. She said: in the time a French person sings hello, a Kiwi has told a whole story. Which is so true because the French stretch their words almost as long as the Thai do, and true Kiwis speak without pause.
(Photos of me are low-quality because they’re taken by Mama Dazzi’s phone.)
(Behind the scenes food photography)
(Mama Dazzi working the cheese, olive tapenade and fresh basil like a pro.) This is lunch at Le Pin Parasol. If you find yourself in Antibes, this little brasserie is a definite must-go. It is not everyday you feel this much passion in the taste and presentation of a meal. Click HERE for more info.
Daddy Dazzi is preparing Lasagna for me tomorrow. Apparently, his is the best. You know, seeing as he’s a real Italian and all. Today over lunch, he discussed with his wife, the preparations for tomorrow. They spoke in Italian. They seemed to be arguing. Daddy switched to English: “I am the artist. I am not the worker,” he proclaimed to his wife. What he was referring to, was the shopping for tomorrow’s meal!
So, all I have done this week, has been to eat and eat and eat some more. Which is so bad because I am going to America in a few days and I really wanted to look good…Alas, I have no self control and these two are killing me.
Daddy Dazzi: a little pizza is good for the health. Yeah right. Also gelato, also crepe, also risotto. There is no stopping with Italians and food!
Get this: today, as we worked our way through lunch, Daddy asked his wife (much like my own father asks my mom sometimes) what they would be having for their next meal.
“The next meal?” I screamed.
“Yes the next meal.”
“Nothing for me!”
“What? That’s dangerous,” he warned.
Dangerous. Dangerous! Can you believe it? After eating all of this food! I have never laughed so hard before.
How Rich Is Too Rich?
In addition to epic views, mouth-watering food and sweet romance, the coast is well-known for $$$
Each to their own, but I personally couldn’t be happy having anything to do with such wealth. For example, the cruise ships. Wether it be owning one, riding one or working for one, to me it seems immoral. I know, I know, I’m making big calls. The way I see it, in a world where literally multitudes are going without, how can one enjoy such excessive (and that’s the key word here) fortune? Even if every penny is earned cash. Don’t get me wrong, I am not saying I am perfect nor anywhere remotely close it, I just think, it’d be nice if everyone had just enough and that’s all. 
Manifest plainness,
Embrace simplicity,
Reduce selfishness,
Have few desires.
(Lao Tzu)
That same night, I wrote my first short story. It took me thirty minutes. It was a dark little tale about a man who found a magic cup and learned that if he wept into the cup, his tears turned into pearls. But even though he had always been poor, he was a happy man and rarely shed a tear. So he found ways to make himself sad so that his tears could make him rich. As the pearls piled up, so did his greed grow. The story ended with the man sitting on a mountain of pearls, knife in hand, weeping helplessly into the cup with his beloved wife’s slain body in his arms. (Khaled Hosseini, The Kite Runner)
(Room rates for 5 star Hotel Negresco in Nice.)
If I Don’t Have Red, I Use Blue.
Today’s plan was to visit The Musee Picasso. Unfortunately, it was closed. Google tells me they re-open tomorrow. So. Stay tuned.
Instead, I walked through the old town, familiarising myself. I tried to look. Really, look. As an artist would, for you (and for me, too). In the words of Sinclair Lewis: “He who has seen one cathedral ten times has seen something; he who has seen ten cathedrals once has seen but little; and he who has spent half an hour in each of a hundred cathedrals has seen nothing at all.”
Here’s what I found:
If I don’t have red, I use blue. (Pablo Picasso)
Hey sis! I’m thinking of you. 
Bread lines.
The meaning of life is to find your gift. The purpose of life is to give it away. (Pablo Picasso)
Look ladies (you too, Anisa) a “big” beautiful woman in 1927 by Henri Mattise. The “ideal” woman is an ever-changing phenomenon and we don’t have to keep up. 
Nomad, a man of letters looking out over the Mediterranean. As Anita’s mom tells me, it represents openness and unity. A world citizen. More info HERE.
I’ve only YOU in mind, Lavanya. HASHTAGginger.
I made a bulgur lentil and herb salad. Served with dark olive baguette, cherry tomatoes, greens, walnuts and fresh mozzarella. All organic.
Comfort Food
I wanted to write a post dedicated to my auntie Pouneh and all of her delicious homemade food.
“There is no spectacle on earth more appealing than that of a beautiful woman in the act of cooking dinner for someone she loves.” (Thomas Wolfe)
Persian barberry and saffron rice with tomato vegetable chicken. Top left is potato tahdig. 
The beautiful family at Lake Geneva.
Organic salad with avocado and feta, couscous, grilled fish and green beans.
Persian loobia polo minus the beef, spiced with turmeric and cinnamon. Green salad and potato tahdig.
But first…
Mediterranean-style baked fish.
This is sabzi polo, Persian herbed rice. It is always served with fish. And again, the potato tahdig. 
Is it rice? Or is it cake? It’s a rice-cake!
And for dessert, individual chocolate letters for all of us from Harald’s business trip. H for Haifa.
N for Nura.
A for…
My Heart Wants Roots. My Mind Wants Wings. I Cannot bear Their Bickerings.
Everyday I thirst to see more, to do more and to experience more. And everyday, I miss my family, I miss familiarity and I miss home.
Italy, shmitaly.
Sometimes when uploading or sending via messenger, Facebook flips photos. Turns out it ain’t a bad look!
This is Château De Coudrée a 12th-century castle now a 4 star hotel.
These last pictures are from Yvoire; officially one of ‘The Most Beautiful Villages of France’, a former fishing village, fortified in the early 14th century, it’s a riot of turrets, towers and old stone houses.
I feel really silly writing this with all of the terrible terrible adversary happening in the world and how incredibly lucky I am compared to it all but one of the “troubles” of travelling is being unable to buy the big beautiful things to take home.
Can someone romance me already?!
An all-wooden toy-store. “Very German,” according to Auntie.
From Hola to Bonjour
Guys, I’m so confused. One day I’m saying gracias to the supermarket clerk, the next day, arigato. Note to self: merci merci merci pardon.
Today I biked to the local market. I said “bonjour” to an elderly passerby. He said: “bonjour mademoiselle,”(just like the movies) and I died.
The French market in Thonon reminded me very much of the Riccarton Bush market back home (NZ). Unlike the markets in Spain where the fresh produce were displayed organically in fresh piles, the food here were set out decoratively in nice cartons, on pretty table cloths and alongside authentic ornaments.
He said: “Hey lady try this olive pesto. It’s very fresh.” Then: “but not as fresh as you!” ???
Delicious oily beignets mmm!
Okay, NOW I’m French.
This picture is for Teck Loh, Andy Banks and my father <3
Herbs for my mama <3
And last but not least, flowers for my sister.
Remnants of a French breakfast :O
iaccidentlyatethewholething 