Thebarefootfoodie

LETTER TO MY FRIEND, T T was G's MBA course-mate at MIT in 1998. He was the youngest in the course and was like a brother to G and I. T is funny, witty, always generous with his treats, and he loves food. As you can guess, T is a big guy, with a big heart. T lives in the "Land of Smiles", where there is recently a clash of colours and idealogy that has not reached closure. In less turbulent times, I have been drawn to the local food, the spas and especially the shopping there. Each time, T would be the perfect host, taking me out, buying me dinners, with a pre-booked massage at to round off the day, a boon to my aching feet. Being the itinerant traveller, I have also ended up taking him to places in his own country which he has not checked out before, like the notorious back-packers' haunt where needles and substances are shared and eating sharks' fins in back alleys. I have even taken the water-bus on the river where you have barely sitting room i...

CHRONICLES OF PARIS J une 30th - the day has come. All our bags are packed, we're ready to go. G, the hubby, will be attending a course in Fontainebleau for the month of July; I am tagging along, with the kids, D and A in tow. Both of them, ecstactic, because they won't be attending school for the next 5 weeks. I am filled with anticipation for this opportunity to experience and soak up the guilty pleasures of walking the streets of Paris to eat, shop and pander to the inner culture vulture. Touched down early next morning. Home was to be a cosy house in a quiet suburb called Bois le Roi. 40 minutes of train travel takes us directly to Gare de Lyon in Paris. D-Day Revisited A short weekend getaway to Normandy, before G starts his course. It is a long drive of more than 800 km to revisit history on the sands of the D-day beaches. Littered along this stretch are towns, churches, memorials, museums and cemetries which stand as solemn reminders of the battles foug...

BARCELONA 2010 Only an hour's flight separates Barcelona from Paris, a distance of some 830 km. It was interesting to observe what people carry in their hand luggage. In the queue just ahead of us at Charles de Gaulle Airport, a young lady carried her pet pomeranian  with its furry head and wet tongue peeking out of her handbag. Have doggie will travel. This gives new meaning to the term "doggie-bag" We were headed for Barcelona after G finished his INSEAD course, a well-earned holiday break after all that hard work. Imagine, classes went on as normal on Bastille Day, a public holiday, one would think, for all, but not for INSEAD students. Travelling within the EU is such a breeze - we walked right out of the airport without having to clear immigration or customs requirements of any sort.  Arriving in Barcelona A short but costly 30- minute taxi ride from the airport brought us to our hotel at Abbas Sant. It was to be our one and only cab ride ever. The ...

Preface: The Giving Tree by Shel SilverStein "Once there was a tree... and she loved a little boy. And every day the boy would come and he would gather her leaves and make them into crowns and play king of the forest. He would climb up her trunk and swing from her branches and eat apples. And they would play hide-and-go-seek. And when he was tired, he would sleep in her shade. And the boy loved the tree... very much. And the tree was happy. But time went by. And the boy grew older. And the tree was often alone. Thne one day the boy came to the tree and the tree said "Come, Boy, come and climb up my trunk and swing from my branches and eat apples and play in my shade and be happy." "I am too big to climb and play," said the boy. "I want to buy things and have fun. I want some money. Can you give me some money?" " I am sorry,", said the tree, "but I have n...

Pimple, Wrinkle, Periwinkle, Paralysis Once upon a time, a pimple was about the worst thing that could land on the face. It starts off as a speck not visible to the human eye, which lands on an open pore, and soon, it erupts into a mould that is red, angry, unforgiving, absolutely deflating to the self-absorbed teenage soul. Time went by. A self-absorbed teenager grew older and morphed into a self-absorbed older person, beginning from age 20. She begins to realise that time wields a cruel blow on the face and also on the body. Metabolic rate slows down, and body parts head south, encouraged by gravity. Pimples give way to wrinkles. Age-defying measures become desperate, and even obsessive. Suddenly- there is paralysis. Time stands still, and the face draws a blank, for good times, bad times, at all times. Stop. Let's look at Periwinkle. It's a delightful pink flower that grows in its season, just like any other cycle of a flowering plant.

Just Because I am your Parent Just because I am your parent, It does not mean I can shout and scream at you. Just because I am your parent, It does not mean I can ignore your feelings and opinions. Just because I am your parent, It does not mean I can expect you to fulfil all my unfulfilled dreams. Just because I am your parent, It does not mean I can say things that are unkind. Just because I am your parent, It does not mean I can make you do things I want you to do. Just because I am your parent, It does not mean I can substitute gifts for quality time. Just because I am your parent, It does not mean I expect you to do what I say, but not to do what I do. Just because I am your parent, It does not mean I can ridicule your friends, your tastes, your clothes, your music, your insecurities. Just because I am your parent, It does not mean I understand you are not living in the same time frame as I once ...