Tuesday, 15 March 2011

When You Walk With Purpose You Collide With...poetry? 1/2

Ah sweet serendipity….can't you and I be lovers? For I surely love you, you make my heart dance and twirl! ‘Why so metaphoric?” It happens when I feel particularly inspired :) Given the events of Friday the 11th of March I surely did so feel.well.

I’m such a contemplative one, always musing on this or that.

My travel dream is to go to Italy. Not to be confused with my occupational dream which is to teach English in S. Korea for 6 months to a year some day...which is a dream that kind of cheats and will find a way to plop itself squarely under any category I can come up with (I really love South Korea) Yes, my dreams ARE categorized, cause I’m orderly like that, but I digress…

Going to Italy is on my bucket list. Just imagine a marvel-er like myself in a place like that of fine food, fine architecture and fine scenery, not to MENTION cobble stone, I LOVE cobble stone! You’d never hear the END of it!

On this Friday in particular I went to Italia! (saying it that way makes me happy happy joy joy) Well okay not ALL of me just my taste buds and they didn’t stay long... but it was enough to renew my appreciation for the fine fine country and made me want even more to bring my entire body there instead of just my food tasters...

Well after the events of the Friday  (I discovered a jazz and poetry night but lets not get ahead of ourselves, separate post on that) before, you know your girl wasn’t going to miss this! I was poised and ready. 

Sure I felt like crap and everything was daunting me: my bag was too heavy for an evening out, the work day had been too long, just got back from the doctors' where I had a four hour wait for a LITERAL MINUTE'S’ worth of attendance (I can forgive it easy the Dr. in question is wonderful, super understanding, super nice and told me that I’m 'all better' so I can live with a four hour wait to hear that) I lacked sleep and on top of that I was late yada yada. Cry me a river…BUT I was out there! Poetry at the ready, lookin' artistic in my long black flowy skirt and with matching gifted gloves. I walked with PURPOSE baby, I could DO this, I was going to OWN THIS!
Wait….where…did this ballet studio COME from? What do you mean no jazz and poetry night tonight!!? I kid you, not. I arrive to find ballerinas finishing up their evening practice and alerting me that it’s ‘not happening tonight’……………..blink blink blink.

Not going to lie, I only recently discovered that ballet classes were even available here in Grenada via the local news doing a story on it and even then it was not this instructor standing before me who'd been showcased.

So I bombarded her with a question or ten (not like I had any place special to BE *mumble grumble*) and she told me that there were at least three major Grenadian ballet schools. She clarified the difference in levels of classes they offer, difference between what she called ‘modern’ and ‘ballet’  both of which are being offered and told me how much it costs, which of course I don’t remember now. All I remember is that it was rather interesting, the entire turn of events.

Regardless, after my super duper concise education on what they offered and looking around at their seemingly recently white washed studio with its ballerina bars for training and black music notes painted on to their walls in beautiful contrast.

I stepped outside and noticed my surroundings for the first time that night.

I somehow had stepped into a small nook in Italy and had not noticed...? I was now facing small, too seater square wooden tables, they had that cosy warn look to them. Their aqua-ish green paint chipped in multiple places. REAL vines were hung from posts here and there. There was a thick lit burgundy candle placed atop a thin, long candle holder just at the top of the few steps I’d just climbed to get to said platform.

In my short time on the inside, the day light had receded and the moonlight had settled in comfortable above head. There was no covered roof so when you sat, you sat at a restaurant under the stars. And I DID sit, gazing up at the overcast sky as the sky and moon played peek-a-boo with each other.

My companion for the night was late, as is usual for her. I suddenly didn’t mind being with myself on that night however. The moon and I are very good old friends you see, we can speak with just gazes.

The tables were very few. If only six of them with two two seater coaches to my right up against the wall of the building . Straight ahead and beyond the little aqua tables was the bar, with three high chair seats. The bar was the only part of the set up actually unmovable and a part of the building. From where I sat I could see that behind the bar was not drinks but a fridge from where they pulled wine, just beyond that was the kitchen were they prepared the dishes you ordered. EVERYTHING was within sight.

I got the impression that the Italian chef was annoyed with me, just sitting there not buying anything but I stuck it out as I waited. I watched him explain what was on the menu for the night, how he would not cook a chicken if he did not buy one that morning, the same goes for any fish, so that no flavour is lost, about how that is how it is done in Italy and how you NEVER mix cheese with fish. Some people would be bothered over the fact that the chicken they are eating was alive yesterday, fortunately for my tummy I am not one of those people.

I met so many people I haven’t seen in a while, like a wonderfully cheerful and positive friend of mine…. Moreen St Clare, she is a Grenville member of the Writers Association of Grenada. On that night she was accompanied by her daughter, niece and the other person with her was her…sister…in law? I didn’t ask. After those joyful hellos and good byes I met Mayres a French member of the Writers Association of Grenada. She came bearing her German lady friend and Spain originate friend with her. They invited me to sit with them.

Surprised and just a tad shy (it happens) I complied and I don’t regret a moment of it! Within second of sitting down I learned that they were ALL artists. Spain Lady, a diver and seascapes painter. German Lady, an earring maker among other things like: qualified herbalist, candle maker, stained glass painter.

We had good fun of the clean and dirty kind; (lets just say the intellectual discussion was of all colours of the rainbow :) but we all have artistic license so dont worry that's legal.

Our order came, and for 30 bucks we had stuffed potato, a tomato also stuffed with something cheese and delicious, do you know how much I HATE tomatoes? Not THIS tomato! It was HEAVENLY. Mahi Mahi, in a delicious light lemon garlic sauce, fried cassava. Just pure heaven on a plate ok?!

I couldn’t speak, all that came out was a series of ‘mMMm’s and ‘aaah’s and ‘omg! So good!’

You know when you watch those shows where people get dressed up in couture evening wear and buy something that only fills a quarter of their plate and you think ‘Psssh girl I’m GROWN, needs me some gown people food!’ No? The hungry voice in your head doesn't sound like that? Huh…...thought that was normal.... but they’re enjoying every tiny bite when you watch them, each even more than the one before it…and you say to yourself ‘Pssh cause it cost so damn much for so little they want it to last as long as they can make it and fool their mind into THINKING they full…’

NO! This was not such a case!!

It was so good I didn’t want it to end! I wanted every last morsel to melt on my tongue slooooow. I also had a cup of ginger beer to go with it. Everything was more than amazing!

The conversation and the food were delicious and fed mouth and mind simultaneously. By the time Eli showed I had eaten every last crumb and was not ashamed.

I convinced her to try it and wouldn’t you know she had the exact same reaction! Good to the last bite! But Eli is a food lover and has what i like to call a 'plush pallet' so I expected as much haha.

My tummy sang my praises for the rest of the night and way into the first part of the next day. I don’t know how he did it but the unique mix of herbs and spices, both of which my dear Spice Isle is well know to be plentiful in :), were as mind blowing as the moonlight that night.

I can only explain it with one word: skill! Or maybe two, the next being: experience! Or three, the next being: magic! But I’m leaning strongly towards the first two!

After more wonderfully stimulating conversation, I said good bye with hugs and double cheek kisses as I’m not sure when next I will meet these wonderful women. :(

Eli and i took a few fun snaps to remember to evening in Little (Grenadian) Italy by:


Then high tailed it across the street to the ART EXHIBITION. A friend I’d met on my way to the ‘poetry and jazz night’ Mayres, and both her friend told me they had pieces on display and considering how this night had started and how awesome it was shaping out?! I was going to ride that wave till it caved! 

There was no way I was going to miss this!

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