Let me tell you something, Iranians LOVE foraging, it’s in our blood!
Foraging (barefoot – Willem made sure I make note of that) in the Red Zone, only to be made into delicious plum sorbet by Utopia Ice!
Sam and George’s most beautifully simple yet elegant wedding at Trents Vineyard.
Guest appearance of Rudolph the green/white nosed reindeer when the red pom poms ran out when making Christmas cards for each one of our littlies.
Merry Christmas from the Teacher/Entrepreneur flat!
I’m ashamed at how many times i do it in between mouthfuls of muesli in between ad breaks on my smoko on the toilet and each time I’m left disappointed yet i go ahead and do it again http://www.cheapflights.co.nz just joking tricked ya! we’re actually f’n expensive you can’t see him you can’t afford it I thought it would get easier like when I’d start working I’d become busy and I wouldn’t miss him or at least, not in this way don’t worry, Anisa just be patient
things will get easier turns out things get horrendous okay, maybe not horrendous I mean, my family isn’t sick and my boss isn’t a dick I’m not an unappreciative girl. just that, none of that changes the fact of the matter the fact of the matter that i’m stationed here and he’s stationed there RA RA RA welcome to my frustrated stream of consciousness.
So Ozzy turned four!!!! And the reason he has 5 candles is because Lifa reckons you’re supposed to put the age +1 for the next year ?? Crazy man. I’m pretty sure that’s wrong. So much so that I’m putting it on the blog!! Aha. I love you guys. Is it also OK if I say Aki is due soon?! Forgive me but I cannot wait to see my niece! Auntie Anisa is waiting. Are you going to name her Anisa? Oh man, you are, aren’t you? :P
Remember Yuko and her family? She’s the lovely Japanese lady who was constantly cooking for me. Well, in less than a week, she and her family will be visiting. Yes, all the way from JAPON! Can you believe it? I sure can’t! God, I love humanity. What a blessing. I hope we can be good hosts and show them everything. I’m also excited for YOU to enjoy along with me.
I watched Paterson the movie. And I watched it only because of its female lead: Golshifteh Farahani. You guessed it, she’s a Persian lady and one heck of an actress, I believe. Unfortunately, the movie was hella boring (to put politely). It did however, inspire me to restart writing poetry.
I was telling a friend about the age difference
Between me and my lover
Feeling insecure about
Basically being old
When I saw a young girl scurry past
She was one maybe two years old
And we were wearing the exact same jelly shoes
I had been asking my mother to accompany me to The Berry Shop for quite some time
When today of all the days she suggested it herself
It was cold and rainy and my outsides were freezing
But still we sat and ate ice-cream
and we talked
or rather she talked and I listened
and slowly slowly
my insides were warming.
Last but not least, my latest Savvy Tokyo piece on Japanese Christmas Cake HERE.
They say not to confuse love with the ‘idea of love’. But the same people also say that if you don’t imagine, nothing ever happens at all. So I sit here in 12D sandwiched between a snoring ogre and an overweight grandfather whose beer belly is so big that it makes me unbutton my own trousers. I sit here and I bathe in the idea of you. Tall, kind and handsome. I have never cared for colour. You can be blue black or orange but you must be a sweet talker. Comforting. Intelligent. Creative and patient, with me, with us but also with yourself.
They say not to fall in love with that which someone can offer. YOU must be whole first. Well ain’t that utter horse shit? Show me someone who isn’t broken. Who isn’t keeping a secret. Anxious. Vulnerable. Trying. Scared. I sit here and I bathe in the idea of you. The you who holds me while I cry over a broken dish. A rude waiter. Rain.
They say in love to stay independent. To not lose yourself. I say both Shakespeare and Mr. Fitzgerald would scoff at that. I sit here and I bathe in the idea of completely losing ourselves in each other. Abandoning the old and morphing into the new – a sort of superhuman, if you will. Where listening to you talk gadgets becomes my favourite habit and where my kale smoothie trespasses leaping to the very top of your morning checklist and you gladly welcome it. Where your warmth and hunger become my daily concerns. And my happiness your life’s mission.
The plane begins its ascend. The ogre roars from his nostrils and the grandfather shuffles his stomach like a pregnant woman finding a comfortable position, and I progress my float to a steady swim.
We are in Spain. In a narrow alleyway. Drinking juice and sharing tapas. “And,” you say in excitement, “the iPhone 7 plus is water resistant!”
I am in love with a boy I have not even met.
I don’t know the feel of his touch
or the smell of his neck.
I don’t know the sound of his voice
or the swing of his walk.
I don’t know the heat of his skin
or the texture of his hair.
I have my heart set.
I arrange seashells in his name.
I pray for his wellbeing.
I sing him in the shower.
I whisper him in my sleep .
And on the days I pick wild berries,
we share them in my dreams.
And what is the sweetness of
red bean paste
or the tang of wasabi?
What is the fun in slurping ramen
or over the top karaoke?
Why dress as a princess
walking ancient streets,
sampling exotic eats?
What is the fun in shopping
in trying this and that
when you’re not here
to comment on my new hat?
To take good pictures
the ones that look pretty
trying over and over
until I don’t look like me.
I miss you here
I miss you everyday.
But you can come back anytime,
is what I know you’d say.
But it’s not that easy,
I’m trying to find my way…
And it might be up Mt. Fuji
or down a Spanish bay.
Inspired by the ever so wonderful literature of Zelda Fitzgerald.
I don’t suppose I really know you very well- but I know you dream of me often and that the scent of your cologne dancing around your collar bone is my favorite smell and that your one in a trillion smile makes all my worries go away or else, the way you touch my hand, as if it were sacred, as if I were, as if I am.
I know that your eyes are secret islands gradually revealing their treasures day by day, and that your walk is gravitational, in the sense that I yearn to walk with you for as long as I can, and that our lips are the two jigsaw puzzles still clinging together in the pool of fragmented pieces.
What I don’t know is where you are at this very moment and when and how we will meet next. But darling, those are insignificant, compared to the whole, compared to the way my head fits your shoulder as if our bodies were carved by the same sculptor designed to match one another and as if our hearts were planted by the same gardener specialising in companionship – each one of us supporting the other to reach the sunlight first.
Yesterday I had an idea. One that both frightens me and makes me excited. I thought, why don’t I compile a picture book of my time here? Wouldn’t that be the very best way of closing a chapter? No pun intended. Okay, pun totally intended. What do you think? With anecdotes and recipes and maybe one or two poems (because I hear poems don’t really sell). Not that money is a focus for me whatsoever. I swear to God, all I want to do is create. I have dreamt of publishing a book ever since I was a little widdle head-scarf wearing school girl. Won’t you please help? Any ideas, any contacts, any advice, anything at all because I really don’t know one thing about doing this. Will you buy it? Is it a good idea? What do you want to see in it? Who should I contact? How do I do this?
Eagerly awaiting your comments and messages,