Road trip in Namibia

Sossusvlei, Namibia
Credit Photo:  Enrique García Photography

Africa is my soft spot and I am always excited to go back, regardless of the daily challenges (electricity breakdown, water cuts, limited internet connections, blazing sun, dust, rutted roads, chaotic public transportation, misunderstandings, poor infrastructures, Kafkaesque situations…) that leave me perplexed or upset.

But at the end of the day I am happy to be here. I like the simplicity, the ingenuity, the generosity of the people I had met. I always come back refueled with a greater sense of what is important: live in the moment, family and community come first, there is always a solution.

This time my African adventure is taking me to Namibia starting alone with a road trip to the Namib Desert.

Yes, alone. I am going to drive about 1,200 kilometers round trip to see the beautiful sand dunes in the Namib Desert. Everything can happen. The best as much as the worst. Is that safe for a woman to travel alone in Africa? What if you get a flat tire? What if the car get stuck in the sand? What if you get lost? What if… Everything can happen and I will be just fine.

So here I am at Windhoek airport, after 24h spent in planes and airports to get here. Nonchalance, dry heat, dusty horizon, stony hills. This is Africa. As part of the Ebola monitoring, another medical form to fill up. My partner in adventure is going to be a Nissan X-Trail 4x2. Now seating at the wheel, not feeling very bold.  I think this car is almost twice the size of my petite Peugeot. I have butterflies in the stomach. I look left. I look right. 

The epic road trip starts at this very moment when I hit the B6 towards Windhoek where I will spend the night. 40 kilometers to go. The road goes through a flat and mesmerizing landscape with only dust and bush for as far as the eye can see. The sky is dramatic. So when the sun is starting its descent it is absolutely stunning. The last rays of light pierce thick dark clouds and the horizon is incandescent. I get overwhelmed with feelings of peace and freedom. 

Only a few cars every now and then remind me I am not the only witness of this raw beauty. There are as well some warthogs popping up, prancing about along the road and disappearing as fast as they appeared. This is going to be an unrivaled journey.

Once at the hostel it did not take me very long before I meet my new fellow travellers for the next days. Who doesn’t want to go to the Namib Desert? We agreed on an itinerary and set a departure time for the next day.

This morning the headline on Sky News is the poisoning of lions in the Masaï Mara, caused by shepherds who wanted to protect their cows. Some claim that this illegal action will harm the reserve and so the tourism industry; against those whose survival depends on their herd.

Cinnamon pancakes for breakfast and we left.

The Spitzkoppe, Damaraland

We first head east towards Swakopmund. One of us suggested to make a detour and pass by the Spitzkoppe, nicknamed the Matterhorn of Africa. So we did.
This 1728m high sharp peak rises miragelike in the dusty plain of Damaraland. Very dusty plain.

Sometimes we stop and there is no one but us marveling at this unlimited and wild space. Sometimes we stop and a horde of kids pops up from nowhere, runs to us laughing out loud for a gift, money, some attention or satisfy their curiosity.

The Spitzkoppe, Damaraland

Overnight at Swakopmund, a surreal remnant of the German colony. This blend of German and African culture on the African continent is like an anachronism to me. It feels weird.

We inflate again one of our breathless tires and start our driving through the Namib Desert. The journey itself is worth the destination. Hours of driving on an arid land with mind-blowing landscapes from infinite dusty plains to rocky hills and a few cactus.

Namib Desert

Very few drivers on the road that we greet like we would with old friends. This ride is an invitation to daydreams and mind wandering… Ooh! A mysterious biker in black just passed by and said hi… this one was not a daydream...

The tourists mass together by the Tropic of Capricorn sign for a selfie or group photo to immortalize their passing.

The locals – zebras, ostriches, and antelopes - don’t seem to pay attention to our visit. They ignore cars, and the dust that comes along.

Solitaire. What an interesting place. A settlement lost in the open desert. Our tire is still breathless. Are we going to make it to Sossusvlei, our final destination?

I had no choice but to share my giant chocolate chip muffin with the birds. Probably more birds in that place than the number of inhabitants, unless they are the inhabitants. Very hungry ones.

On our way back I went for the giant apricot jam sandwich biscuit, whose both ends were dipped into chocolate. They tend to bake extra large pastries in this small place. This time I shared with this little squirrel. It is a squirrel, right? Yes, I think it is.

Right on time to check in at Sesriem, the gateway to the sand dunes of Sossusvlei. Can’t resist the beautiful chalets facing the silent and mysterious desert plain, so no camping for me tonight, and not either tomorrow night. I am spoiling myself!

Sossus Dune Lodge

View from my balcony in the morning

The next days are going to be all about marveling and wandering in such an inspiring place.

Sossusvlei - Dune 45

The experience of a private sunset over a sand sea:

One hour before dawn we are passing the entrance gate of the park

45 km to drive in the darkness before reaching Dune 45,

A bevy of tourists is already climbing the 150m-high dune

Most stop and seat right where the edge starts 

Sossusvlei - Dune 45

But it takes only a few meters further to find an unspoilt spot to seat

And enjoy a private sunset

The wind murmurs gently but the silence is deafening,

The sun rises slowly and the light uncovers the shapes and colors of the dunes,

The sand warms up our bare feet as the sun rises

Because dunes are being revealed one after another

I just walk further on the edge of that Dune 45 for another private sunset

The sand rolling down under our feet sounds like the sea running through the pebbles

Endless wander and exploration of the untouched and changing dunes

Sossusvlei - Dune 45

Credit Photo:   Enrique García Photography

How long did we stay on the top of the Dune 45? I don’t know. When we started to slide back to the car the crowd had left, running to the next dune. We stayed there another moment still hypnotized.

Sossusvlei - Dune 45

Sorry for the profusion of pictures, but this place is really special. And no words or pictures can actually describe how it felt to have witnessed that sunrise. We all felt very privileged to be there.

And the show is not over. Next is the Dead Vlei, part of the Namib-Naukluft park. Another inspiring place, where you can contemplate for hours and feel at peace.

Dead Vlei
Credit Photo: A wandering kiwi

This clay pan was once a shallow pool. Now this is how it looks like after the climate changed and the trees died.

Dead Vlei

But do not stay too long after noon though as the sand become so hot that you take the chance to caramelize your feet and/or bottom depending on how you decide to slide down the sand dune. I speak from experience here. 

Dead Vlei

That day was our last day together. We shared a last sunset, exchanged email addresses and said goodbye. Some would go back to Windhoek, some would head south, other would decide as the day goes.

The last sunset at Sossusvlei

Hard to leave such a place so I decided to extend my stay for one more night. Now I want to see the sand dunes from a different angle: high up, from a hot air balloon. 

Breathtaking. Only the breath of the balloon disturbs the silence, when the pilot insufflates more heat in the balloon.

Soft landing and champagne breakfast in the middle of nowhere.

Time to head back to Windhoek. I got my breathless tire fixed. I got some food and water for the way in case the desert would not let me go.

At the exit gate the guard introduces me to Junius. He works at the lodge I was staying at and needs a lift to Windhoek. All right, let’s go!

“Oh, and one of your friend is waiting for you at the petrol station…” he added. Very pleased to see him again. More time to philosophize and set the world to rights between two daydreams.

Now we are good to go, so let’s go!

Time is flying when the company is good. I’m already back to Windhoek to pick up my sister at the airport. We are going to explore the north to meet up with the Himba tribe. 

Everything can happen; my sister is a serious adventurer. Are you ready?

The Art of leaving

Cyprus - Road E110 to Troodos

Only when you have to leave, you want to stay
Cyprus was a sweet and unexpected encounter,
Where my passion for baking bubbled up

Only when you have to leave, you appreciate
Places you did not find special at first
And your last days turn into a frenetic tour,

Only when you have to leave,
You urgently need to see the people you will leave behind
Some people will become life milestones,
Others will remain seasonal encounters, but they all matter

We promise to keep in touch,
Knowing that a common chapter of our lives is closing
So I leave sadly without looking back but,
Leaving the door open in case the promise would not be vain

Food Writing and Photography Workshop in Turkey

From time to time it is good to meet with like-minded people to boost your creativity, learn new technics and refresh your inspiration.

So when I found out about this Food Writing and Photography Workshop  in Alacati, Turkey, it did not take me very long before signing up for this new food adventure, with:

- Dianne Jacob, author of the book “Will write about food”,

- David Hagerman, food and travel photographer,

- Robyn Eckhardt, food and travel writer,

And because a meal is not really a meal without an starter and a dessert, I decided to go for a full menu: a few days in Alacati to chill out to start, three days workshop for main course and a few days in Istanbul for dessert.

Starter:

Alacati is a small charming town on the Turkish Aegean coast; the perfect place to chill out at the terrace of a café, watching people passing by in slow motion on the cobbled streets. Always with a Turkish tea and a sweet something next to it.

My days would start with a frugal breakfast. Breads, Greek salad, cheeses and delicatessen, fresh fruits… and, a Turkish tea. The fresh mulberries and honey served on local cheese were interesting.

Then I would go to the beach for a wander or a swim.

In the afternoon I would get around from terrace to terrace, chilling out with a Turkish tea, preferably next to a pastry shop: I am not blown away with the almonds biscuits. I did not like the mastic ones. Maybe I will try the orange and cheese biscuits tomorrow.

One afternoon I would wander at the market or explore the back streets of Alacati. I would go later for another Turkish tea by the windmill overlooking the city to chill out some more before dinner at Mitu bistro: Traditional poached grouper with shallot, fennel and celery… and a glass of Sauvignon blanc produced locally. Chocolate fondant with geranium ice cream for desert. They call it chocolate Savarin on the menu, but nope, that was a fondant.

Another afternoon I would go window-shopping and end up at Samet’s shoe store buying a couple of nice quality and trendy leather sandals made in Greece. Of course a Turkish tea or two were involved in the transaction.

Samet suggested me to go to Babushka for dinner so I went: meze to start – selection of small dishes - and then oven roasted Parrot fish… I cannot believe I was too full for desert and missed the Nevzine, a walnut and tahini desert.

Main course :

And then things got serious…

Robyn introduced us to the art of food storytelling. Be curious, be creative, be open. Investigate your subject, discover the untold culinary stories, find the right angle for a unique story...

Storytelling assignment : What is your food obsession ?

Hum… My mind went blank. So many food obsessions.

Dianne shared literary techniques and advice. Food writing is not about describing food but telling a story about food.

Writing assignment: Tell us about your breakfast this morning.

“I think my waiter is a food stylist. Every morning he stages my table for breakfast with such meticulousness. First comes the Turkish tea on my right hand side.

Then straight in front of me he sets the little wooden board with cheese samples. That one in the middle is really interesting… a spongy texture to absorb a coulis made of fresh mulberries and honey. 
Exactly between the cheese platter and my Turkish tea is the place for the long and narrow tray with a selection of homemade jams. 


Here is when I am very impressed: how can oneself remember to arrange the cup of wrinkled black olives on my left side and the greenish-purple ones on the right? ...”

I must be a slow writer. By the time I finished to write those lines my food stylist already replaced my Turkish tea twice. I guess a Turkish tea without steam on the glass would not look good on the pictures…

I am blissful with my breakfast. If you are not convinced with my storytelling, do not worry, there is going to be a repeat tomorrow morning.

David demonstrated how to tell a food story with images. Observe, interact, compose and... capture the moment.

Photo assignment: Capture the old Greek village of Alacati

It did not take me very long before I spot a place to satisfy my sweet tooth: Rice pudding and Turkish tea at Imeren’s terrace.

I shamefully failed to complete my assignment.

No guilt, there was another playground for photo shooting: Tire market. Plenty of food and nice encounters.

And because we are not living only on food writing and food photography…

Hands-on cooking class at Babushka’s… cheese and herbs pastry with hand-made phyllo dough, stuffed peppers, semolina cake… 

Cheese and herbs pastry with hand-made phyllo dough

Semolina cake

what else? We cracked the secret of the smoked eggplant paste.

Smoked eggplant

In a blink of an eye, the workshop was over and we left each others with lot of food for the mind and insights from the private coaching sessions and the lively group discussions.

Dessert :

Another couple of days strolling about and enjoying the outdoor cafés at Alacati. I am glad I gave another chance to the mastic. The mastic pudding was delicious.

It was not reasonable to get another pair of leather sandals made in Greece so I went for nice and elegant porcelain dishes made in Turkey at Istlondon. 

On the way back to Cyprus, I made a stopover at Istanbul. 

Cruise on the Bosphorus

I like Istanbul. There is always something to discover like this new pastry shop in Sultanahmet area. I went for the traditional Turkish pudding… twice.

Turkish Pudding

Friends asking for their photo when enjoying my Turkish Pudding

To end this trip on a sweet note, I had the chance meet Aylin Yazicioglu, pastry chef at Nicole Restaurant in Istanbul. Exquisite dinner ending with three refined desserts.

Aylen is a passionate pastry chef graduated from the Cordon Bleu School in Paris so we had plenty of things to talk about since I recently signed up for their program. I look forward to this new food adventure. Sweet, sweet, sweet…

Dolce Vita in Rome and Pistachio Macarons

It all started with my husband coming back from a trip in Rome with Granella di Pistacchio di Bronte. Oh! Just the sound of Granella di Pistacchio di Bronte is delicious. But wait until you try out those pistachios from Bronte, Sicily into macarons!

It was not the first time I was baking Pistachio Macarons. I had tried different variations for the filling, with cardamom or not, with flavoring essence or not. But this time, Wow! Those two pretty macaron shells filled with a pistachio custard cream tasted nothing like we had tried before. The flavor of the pistachio was so powerful that no essence or spice could have done the trick.

So for the three days in a row, that lasted those pistachio macarons made with Granella di Pistacchio di Bronte, Nati and I were eating them in an almost religious silence and following a monomaniacal protocol: Clear and clean table. The plate with its precious treasure would be put on the table. No distraction around. We would sit comfortably on the sofa. Both would take one. We would look at each other with a knowing smile meaning “all green light” to savor the first bite. Silence of contentment. Then would come this mute agreement signed with a large smile and a nod: yes, let’s have another one! Another silence of contentment… That is how good those were.

So when came the Orthodox Greek Easter holidays in Cyprus with the opportunity of a long weekend, I sent myself off on a mission to Rome to bring back more Granella di Pistacchio di Bronte.

Not an easy mission as it seems. Nati could not remember exactly where he found those precious green diamonds. “It was somewhere in a pastry shop on a corner of a street, next to Piazza Navona. Inside, they had ice cream. And in another part of the shop they were selling local products…”

I investigated the case prior my departure and contacted Italian online shops for an address in Rome. But no luck. If you want the real thing you need to go to the right place: Bronte in Sicily, only!

So I thought I would figure this out once on the field. The lady at my Bed & Breakfast suggested the Campo de’ Fiori market for local products but I only found multicolored pasta and olive oil, very popular among tourists.

Campo de’ Fiori market

Emanuela from a live chat I had contacted suggested Salumeria Roscioli on via dei Giubbanari, but they only had wine, cheese, ham and other mouth-watering delicatessen. Still no Granella di Pistacchio di Bronte.

Rosciolo Delicatessen

Eventually I found the pastry shop, where my husband had bought the pistachios: I dolci di Nonna Vincenza. This Sicilian pastry shop was just next door my Bed & Breakfast and I had been passing by several times since I was in Rome. I entered the shop with excitement. Amazing traditional Sicilian pastries on display. Everything looks so good and tempting but no Granella di Pistacchio di Bronte. Disappointed, I was so disappointed that I eventually gave up on my mission and decided to only enjoy Rome and la Dolce Vita.

Sicilian pastries at  I dolci di Nonna Vincenza

I sat down, ordered a couple of creamy and puffy pastries with wild berries along with my tea and enjoyed watching people coming in and out, mouth-watering at the pastries. I thought of my trip to Sicily a couple years back when I attended a Food Photography Workshop with Beatrice Peltre at the Casa Vecchie. They had the same pastries on the Saint Joseph’s altars… Oh food memories!

And so now, my next days in Rome would start at this Sicilian pastry shop with homemade brioches that taste like in France and fresh squeezed blood orange juice like I had in Sicily…

Then, forget about following any recommended itinerary on a map. Rome is the kind of city that is appreciated at its best when oneself gets lost… from an ice-cream shop to another ice-cream shop: Pistacchio gelato piccolo, per favore… is what I was ordering the most… this is one scoop of Pistachio ice-cream, always in a crunchy waffle cone… still that pistachio obsession! I tried as well the Garden sage & Raspberry ice-cream at the Gelateria del Teatro. Very unique flavor.

Venchi ice cream shop

Next I would turn left on a corner to avoid the crowd of tourists at the Pantheon and would end up on a much quiet Piazza, time to chill out at the terrace of a trendy lounge bar for a cocktail and a cheese plateau. What a treat! In Cyprus, they mostly have feta, halloumi and anari cheese, which are good; don’t get me wrong. But I am French and I need something stinkier with more character and flavor.

Never go wrong with old style taverns

So that was how my days were slipping… I was wandering, opting for the narrowest and less busy streets. Here I was discovering a tiny farmers market frequented by locals. And there was another delicatessen store call Delizie, food delights… again there were wine, pasta, olive oil… still I asked about the Granella di Pistacchio di Bronte.

Oh! I was so happy when the gentleman smiled and showed me the small wooden shelf with all the products he had made of pistachio: pistachio powder, chopped pistachio, pistachio liqueur, pistachio nougat, pistachio pesto, pistachio spread… I was so excited that I bought all of his chopped pistachio and pistachio powder. I get some pistachio nougat for the way and one small bottle of pistachio liqueur to lift the filling of my next pistachio macarons. Grazie mile senior!

This was what I would call a very pistachio oriented weekend and I had a delicious time! What a shame though that I missed Michelangelo’s painting at the Sistine Chapel… I save the visit for next time!

Busy summer chilling out in Northern Cyprus

November is here and the summer is dancing away. Weather is changing. Wind whistles. Trees bend beneath its strength. Dust fly in the wind. Clouds darken the sky. Thunder rolls. Heavy rains strike the ground. Stretched out on the deck chair, the red cat remains unruffled and continues its nap. He knows it is a matter of time. In a few hours, the wind will have chased away the dark clouds. The blue sky will be streaked with only a handful of cottony clouds and the sun will shine again.

The last six months were no surprise but spotless blue sky and hot temperature, very typical Cypriot summer. Under that blazing sun everything slows down and the main activity is lounging. We discovered our new favorite spot for lounging, in Northern Cyprus*.

Saturdays would start easy with salted butter or homemade jam spread on my tartines, tea and my newspaper. None of my day can start without my tea and my newspaper…

Slowly we would head toward Nicosia, the last divided capital. On the way Nati would practice his French and we would laugh loud… un pain au chocolat à la boulangerie, s’il vous plait… la bou-lan-ge-rie… in French please! Nati is determined to learn French… At the border we would switch driver. Chill out time would start then.

We would continue north, impressed with the Kyrenia range rising in front of us like if there would be no way to escape or cross over. The road would weave in and out the range and we would reach Kyrenia just on time for a lunch at Niazi’s, our place for charcoal mixed grill and mezes.

This restaurant was opened first in Limassol in 1949. There are old yellowed pictures from those days on the walls. They had to relocate in the north after the partition of the island.

Niazi's since 1949

Same waiter, same table and same food… that is how we like it… One of the waiter asking if we knew his father… he lives in Paris and goes to the Eiffel Tower every Sunday… large smiles and friendly conversations…

Satisfied, we would keep going, driving along the coast, turquoise-blue water and golden sandy beaches all the way.

Karpas Peninsula

And the day would go by, enjoying the sun, sea, food and, peace and quiet… an ice cream stop from time to time…

Alagadi Beach

On Sundays we would just follow the same routine… Tartines, tea and newspaper for breakfast before heading the road back home…

Shall we cross the border at Nicosia or shall we go through the Troodos Mountain so we can stop at our other favorite place for grilled fish and salad, by the sea?

Grilled chicken and Haloumi cheese

Village Salad

For a change we would decide to come home crossing the border far west next to Pyrgos village… nice scenic route along the same turquoise-blue water…

Vouni

we would wander around and end up on a hilltop overlooking the sea… there remains what is left of the Vouni Palace, built by the Persian rulers around 5th BC… nice change…

Vouni's Palace

But yet we would stop at our other favorite place, by the sea, for lunch…

Club Güzelyali, Vasilia

Club Güzelyali, Vasilia

We would be home by Sunday afternoon, content and relaxed from our little escapade in the North, looking forward for the next weekend…

* The island of Cyprus is partitioned since 1974 when Turkey invaded the north in response to a Greek military coup. We live in Southern Cyprus, officially call the Republic of Cyprus. Northern Cyprus is a self-declared state recognized only by Turkey under the name Turkish Republic of Northern Cyprus. The UN drew up the commonly called “Green Line” as a ceasefire demarcation line in 1963. Travel restrictions are eased since 2013, enabling people to cross the border.