When I was little we lived on a farm near Robertson. My ouma lived across the canal and not far down the way, not even for a small child. The summers were hot and if I close my eyes I can almost feel the heavy silence of those warm, mid-summer Sunday afternoons when you had to be Quiet, with a capital Q, because the grown-ups were napping.
As a child you miss many things, you forget, you just don't notice... Perhaps it was lonely for my mother (my father worked away a lot), but as a small child I remember it being pretty idyllic. My ouma cooked dishes that I haven't eaten since. Haaksel (spiced mince of lung, heart, windpipe and some other choice bits), kaiings (crackling, but so much better), real buttermilk, ouma-made apricot jam, aga-baked bread... I have really fond food memories of my childhood. Baking biscuits with my mom before the summer holidays when all the Transvaal cousins came to visit.
I'm vegetarian now and my heart lunges just at the thought of all that butter, fat and sugar, but back then I ran everywhere, everything was freshly made and we knew where everything came from. My ouma made her own butter, the hens laid the eggs, she baked the bread and her vegetable patch always seem to have beans in it (perhaps that's just because I despised beans and it felt like I always had to eat them).
Living in Schlatt is almost like living on Grootvlakte again. If I took a two minute walk I'd be in the middle of some farmer's corn field. When I arrived a month ago, the wheat fields were swaying heavily in the heat. The wheat's since been harvested and now the walnuts, corn, sunflowers, carrots, onions and apples are just about ready. The little apples with their pink cheeks beckon on every corner.
The local supermarket, the Volg, is not your usual chain supermarket. They stock local. So yes, some of the veggies comes from Spain, but if there's a local farm with produce to sell, you'll find it at the Volg. Our favourite yoghurt (rhubarb flavour) comes from a dairy not far from Schlatt.
And I could, if I wanted to, pop around the corner to some farmers wife for fresh eggs. We drink beer that was brewed in the neighboring town, Schaffhausen.
The photo is from a look-out tower about 15 minutes' walk from Brunnenhofstrasse. It's in the middle of a little forest. We ate berries in the forest and generally lazed about on Sunday after going to Florian and Angilica's pre-wedding feast on Saturday night.
We're heading to the next phase of our Swiss Adventure and we'll be moving in to our Zurich apartment in 2 weeks. Whoop.
We moved to Zurich on Friday night. We don't exactly have masses to move, one trip in the Great White (the company station wagon) was all it took to get most of our belongings from Schlatt to Zurich. 
I need an unabridged marriage certificate from the SA Department of Home Affairs to prove to the Swiss authorities that I am indeed married to my husband and not some harlot who wants to make Switzerland my home by any means possible. I guess it happens. 
When I was little we lived on a farm near Robertson. My ouma lived across the canal and not far down the way, not even for a small child. The summers were hot and if I close my eyes I can almost feel the heavy silence of those warm, mid-summer Sunday afternoons when you had to be Quiet, with a capital Q, because the grown-ups were napping. 
Tennis in Gstaad = a really fun day out. 
I have a new pre-loved bike. Officially it's called Lucifer, as per the name on the light. But I think calling it Lucy (it's a girl's bike after all) is perhaps a little more fitting. 
Wetter: 19°C Bewölkt
