Antibes Antics

Antibes is like a hazy hub where all walks of life, from doosh bag to hero, come together to discuss yachts until their tongues fall off and drink until their stomachs explode. Its magical. No for real, you don’t get better than Antibes and Juan Les Pins during the summer where the sun is shining, people are smiling and there is an adventure around every corner. Although take caution because this time of year also seems to attracted quite a lot of retards and fools.

However, when you’re in the town with your friends something crazy always seems to happen and this was definitely the case when Daisy, Rach and I rocked up to visit Ilz Ilz!

Ilze and I had booked a hotel room, for 2, because we knew this was the logical thing to do. Rach, for some unknown reason, actually thought she was going to catch the last train back to Monaco – at 11pm….um yeah, that never happens because the Hop Store sucks you in, spits you out and then in your confused drunken state you hear the falsely sweet luring whisper of L’Ekinox. You go, and when you come stumbling out at 4am, you have no idea what happened but you know it was epic.

Daisy was sorted with accom at another friend so it seemed all good.

So the night starts off with us getting caught sneaking a bottle of rose into Hop. Pretty standard. Fast forward through dozens more drinks, abdominal workouts and more chatting than my ears could handle, we found ourselves inevitably stumbling into Ekinox.

The Hop Store

More drinks, dancing and more laughing later, we decided it was time to go home. So Daisy, Rach and Ilze armed with some fresh meat headed back to our – 2 sleeper – hotel room, while I walked another friend home.

The alluring sign of L'Ekinox

When eventually I got back to the hotel room I found said fresh meat in the double bed, Ilze K.O. and Daisy and Rach on the floor. I then got told by Rach that I need to :”Turn off the light because people are sleeping”. Well that got me. “EXCUSE ME, but I actually paid for this room you squatters and I will turn on whichever light I please!!”. At this point the fresh meat was smart enough to take his exit.

After things calmed down, we all passed out again. And when we awoke, we realised we had a huge problem. And when I say “we”, I actually mean “I”, because you see, Ilze had snuck out very early to get back to work so I was left with Daisy and Rach, the two stragglers. I decided to have a shower and they left for breakfast – clearly still dressed in their clothes from the night before - which left me with the issue of explaining to the concierge why, in a hotel room booked for 2, 3 people had emerged.

Daisy, Rach and me

I came down and the woman at the desk commented: “Ah zere were srhee of you in zee rhoom zis morning, no?”

“Um yes, we uh, had a very early um…..business meeting?” I replied.

“VERY early.” She said with a smile playing around her lips and a knowing glint in her eye.

“Yes lots to do!” I said already halfway out the door, cringing. A business meeting? Seriously? Why I let Rach put these idea’s in my head I will never know!

After I told the girls, they howled with laughter of course. But our adventure didn’t end there. Due to past experience and our hangovers we couldn’t be bothered to buy a train ticket so off we hop on the TGV and settle into a carriage. As soon as we sat down, still chatting of course, a woman to our right immediately began to sush us. Granted we might have been a tad bit leery in our state but it was the middle of the day and no-one was sleeping in the carriage, a point that Rach brought up after the lady told us to have some respect and that “this is France, not a rubbish bag” (?).

This conversation all happened in French of course so I had no idea what was going on when the girls got up to move and I just followed obediently. It was in our new seats when we caught a glimpse of the train ticket guy one carriage away. So instead of playing it cool, in which case we might have gotten away with it, we all stare at him wide eyed, jump up and literally run for the bathroom, where we shut ourselves in, giggling hysterically and whispering about what we were going to do.

Two seconds later (he must have actually sprinted after us), we hear knocking on the door and we all freeze. “Madams, please come out, madams, I need to see your tickets please.” We all freeze and start gliggling and whispering frantically again while I try and press the right pedal to flush the toilet saying: “Just a minute” (obviously trying to make it seem legitimate that 3 grown woman were all squashed into a tiny toilet together). After incessant knocking, Daisy  and I emerge and inform the man that Rach is getting ill and we were merely looking after her – a fact that she is not aware of- when she emerges yelling “Alright alright man, we don’t have any friggin tickets, gosh!”. We then had to pay a €35 fine each, which was also tedious because we tried to pretend we didn’t have any money for ages until we were threatened with jail.

So when we eventually got back we were nothing less than exhausted but couldn’t stop laughing at everything that had happened in such a short space of time. It just goes to show, you never know what to expect and Antibes is always full of surprises ;)

Sunset 

WINTERS END

April 2013

Hibernation is coming to an end after 5 long months and I must say, Im pretty pleased to see the sun again. Although don’t get me wrong, it has been an AMAZING first European winter.

I learned how to snowboard, found a new job, spent Christmas and New Year in the back country of Ireland where I held a lamb and learned to drive a tractor, drove 7 hours to the middle of France, made tons of new friends, but the cherry on top has to be my last ski weekend in Val d’isere.

A couple of weeks ago I took a trip with Brandon, Courtney and Gilo to a place called Clermont Ferrand which is literally in the middle of France. That’s when I first met JB. Picture a surfer guy, now picture a French surfer guy sense of humour, now picture a French surfer guy who is engaged but had a thing for lady-boys, now picture a French surfer guy who can’t actually surf and that’s JB. Seriously a character if I ever met one, invited us to stay in his home town and have a tour of the surrounding ski slopes. He took us around the slopes, we drank at the local bars, ate out at an amazing beef restaurant and ate biscuits for breakfast.

So after we all hit it off with JB, he invited us to stay in a chalet in Val d’isere 2 weeks later and of course all of our calendars were wide open.

View from the room

Friday after work we pack the car and off we go. Countless farts (from the boys) and 4 hours later we reached the snowy end of a very isolated road. Upon further inspection we found that the road was closed and quickly got the eff out of there because it was starting to feel like a horror movie with wolves howling and abandoned buildings. So we stopped for a meal and directions and found out the road was only open for the summer and we had an extra 3 hours to drive, ahhhhhhh!

So EVENTUALLY we get there at 1am and get a tour of the chalet. I was quite sleepy at that stage but walking into this place woke me up chop chop. We walk into the entrance and were facing an indoor pool, Jacuzzi and steam room in front of which are 2 buddahs imported from a monastery that cost who knows how many euro’s. Not only that but the pool in lined with gold plated tiles and the walls are

decorated by Christian Lacriox. To the left is a lounge filled with the fluffiest couches I have ever seen and the most kitted out cocktail bar you could imagine.

Its so fluffy Im gonna die!!

We were then led up the stairs to our beautiful rooms with balconies looking out onto picturesque views. We then headed up to the top floor where there was a private kitchen, dining room, lounge and another bar. Finally we got into the lift – yes there was actually a lift – to the ground floor, where there was a gym, a games room and a SPA with waterbed massagers, eeeee! We were in heaven.

We had a glass (or 2) of delicious Rose and then went to rest up for the next day. We hit up a great breakfast and then headed off to the slopes. The conditions were perfect, powder off-piste and the sun was beating down. We had an expert on the back slopes take us all around the off-piste tracks until our legs were aching. When we couldn’t take it anymore we went to the famous La Folie Douce which is basically a club, in the middle of the day and in the middle of the slopes.  The music was pumping and people were going off, it was amazing. We partied for a couple of hours and then headed back to the chalet.

La Folie Douce

From the snow to bikinis and boxers we jumped in the pool for a swim while watching the snow falling outside, then it was time to hit the Jacuzzi. By the stage the chalet crew had joined us and Mojito’s and finger food were on the way. Before we knew it, it had turned into a full on pool party. Drinks were flowing, champagne was popping, we were snow bathing and steam rooming, it was like a dream. We then went out to Dicks bar and got silly.

The next day was sadly, our final ski day. After scrambled eggs and toast (cooked by the private chef) we headed out to yet another perfect day. Hours of boarding, a lost ski and a lunch at La Folie Douce made up the day. JB, Jeremy and Antoine were endless entertaining and as usual the conversation turned to lady-boys and threesomes (?). When we could ski no more we headed back to the chalet, dropped off our stuff and hit the shops. Afterwards we had one more pool and Spa session, ordered pizza, watched a movie and went to bed at 10 to prep for our early start.

Activites ensued and we chilled with a pizza and a movie. Off to bed at 10 o clock preparing for an early morning start.

12:40 we woke up and took to the road. Driving like beasts for 6 hours I got to Cannes train station just in time for the train back to Monaco and the rest headed back to St Tropez. Thanks to demon driving we all made it to work on time albeit a little worse for wear but it was totally worth it for the craziest weekend in the snow.

A special mention has to go to Brandon Rowe who made this all happen, you are a legend!

Genova Today

Headlines:

RAIN SET IN UNTIL END NOVEMBER

That’s right folks, it has predicted (according to the captain) that it will rain in Genova until the end of November, although the weather prediction says otherwise http://uk.weather.com/weather/10day-ITXX0031. This so called "forecast", however, will not deter social lives as the weekend ahead is said to be debaucherous and everyone attending should bring rain coats or umbrella’s and probably helmets. This news also yields a possible no-show by the boss which means freedom for the rest of winter. We are on stand-by and will keep you updated.

CHEF TO RETURN

Bruce, our South African-born chef, is said to return on Sunday the 21^st of October for an undecided period of time due to boredom, both on his side and the side of the crew. Thank goodness because I fear my secretly (and surprisingly) good culinary skills are earning me the name of cook for the winter and its just too stressful I tell you! I will now also finally be able to get my Charmaine* on in accordance with aforementioned debaucherous weekend.

EXTRA-CURRICULA's

My search for a yoga centre has sadly bared no fruit and, although I continue to keep my hopes up that perhaps I might get a reply to my class inquiry, I feel I am forced to join the City Gym which Al and Ruben are addicted to. I like to look at it as a crew bonding opportunity and a way to keep the muffin out of my muffin-top during the winter. I went for a try out and I must say there aint no gym like an Italian gym. Step class was hilarious and Boxing kicked my ass, but had the best instructor! He cant speak English unfortunately so Im gonna be hitting them Italian language books hard!

Cervinia

There is also talk of snowboarding/skiing sessions in the upcoming weekends in the mountains of Cervinia. If the snow has started falling is a different question. Nevertheless I look forward to making a fool of myself whilst attempting to become a pro snowboarder.

Gin and Tonic night also seems to be catching on. It is a night randomly picked during the week where I sporadically decide to have a Gin and tonic with whoever will join. This week it was Tuesday night and mention must go out to Simon from Happy Days for educating me on the history of Malta.

On that note, more intelligent reading shall be done so as to involve oneself (me) more in conversations such as the aforementioned one about Malta. “Wow” and “That’s so hectic” can only keep the conversation flowing for so long. (Also note to self, buy a kindle).

HOLIDAY ADVENTURES

I have also officially booked my ticket to Ireland for the 21^st of December and am going to be staying with Tara, a friend from home. I am way too excited considering it is only October and cant help but picture a “P.S. I Love You” type scenario, although without the dying husband part. So more just the part of falling hopelessly in love with a handsome Irishman, and him also falling equally in love with me – that part is quite imperative.

And finally, my broken heart has forced me to spew out a poem to honour a friend that I have lost, explain the waning of relationships and how love just makes you feel shit in general. Enjoy.

To Have Loved and Lost

The sting of winter hits like a thousand knives,

Cutting, cutting, slowly cutting.

The wounds are deep but there is no blood,

Yet is feels like my body is drained of warmth and life.

The tree’s are bare, there’s no-one there,

I wander and wonder why it had to end,

Why the tree’s and blooms we bother to tend.

Year in, year out, they always die,

Their beauty just a passing sigh,

A whisper of what could be,

An empty promise of what you cant keep.

My heart is ice and my eyes are dry,

I have no more tears to cry,

The twinkle I held dear in my eye,

Left without even saying goodbye,

I look back and see the signs,

I really was alone the whole time.

Disillusioned by a giddy love,

Only from one heart and never enough.

And so I sit and feel a fool, for ever having loved you.

*Charmaine (v;ad): Refers to one Charmaine Kerry Crouch. used to describe actions of  raucous proportions, includes but is not limited to, dancing on tables, skinny dipping, running around (naked or otherwise), being the life of the party, causing mayhem etc. Usually linked with drinking (up to and including numerous bottles of wine, vodka and other alcohols). Can be done during the week or on weekends. 

Rocking the Crazies

Home really is where the heart is and there is nothing better than coming home after 6 months knowing that you have money to spend, friends and family to see and good times to be had.

Me and Lanie

Dad and puppy Nietschka

I arrived at JHB international and burst into tears at the sight of my mother (because I was so happy to see her). I went home, hugged my cat and lay on my bed, it felt so good. I visited the spectacular Botanical Gradens with my aunt, cousin, mom and second mom. I got to see Lanie – not under the best circumstances (RIP Leila) but it was great to see her again, always the first to pop in when I get back! I got to see all my school mates at a braai organised by one of my oldest friends, Nikita Saber – we’ve been friends for 17 years! I jammed at Tiger Tiger with the most awesome group of boys I know and even got to meet some Aussie rugby players!

Me and Mom

Botanical Gardens

Then, to spoil my fun, I had to do what I came back to do – renew my visa. Dum dum dum (dramatic music sounding in the background), because as every South African passport holder who wants to go ANYWHERE knows, you simple cant buy a plane ticket and leave. No, you have to give a book size stack of papers proving that you are indeed an upstanding citizen (which I am) and will be returning to your country after a limited amount of time (which I am not). Anyway this time around I had the right papers but still didn’t get the visa I wanted….endless frustration I tell you! So any EU or British passport holders, do not take those things for granted, you have no idea how easy your life is.

Because this time around I had got the visa process (mostly) right, I realised that I had 2 weeks left in SA to play, and as everyone knows, when I have time to play, I pick Cape Town as my playground. In a weird coincidence my brother’s friends’ aunt was on the same flight as me and gave me a lift to Stellenbosch where the adventure began. Staying at my brothers place was definitely more bearable than usual thanks to my OCD complex leading to me providing them with cleaning products which had, suspiciously, lasted a whole year.  Anyway as it was test time Stellies wasn’t its usual raucous self, which was probably not to my detriment. Spent some quality time with my brother and cousin, watched some rugga, drank beer, ate biltong and walked around with no shoes. It was a good couple of days but then it was time to head to Cape Town. Thanks must go to Mike Ceruti for the lifts, shelter and the Mandela-Rhodes place and entertainment during my stay, which was also contributed to by Bronwyn Morris. I got to catch up with an old flame, another school friend and my old flat mate. It made for a great week.

And then….there was this thing that just kept getting in my face, it was everywhere I turned and eventually I couldn’t ignore the signs any longer. So, my plane ticket scheduled for Saturday was excitedly and also bank-breakingly {new word} changed to Sunday. Ticket was bought and plans were made. I was officially going to Rocking the Daisies with Bronnie, her flattie, Randall and the Herms girls. I then got a call from my blood, who was trying to make plans with me for the weekend. To solve the dilemma of me being in Darling and him in Stellies, I got him a ticket. So now the weekend crew was complete.

Darling

So finally Friday came, and what should happen, possibly the worst thing ever, the car we were going to RTD in started smoking from the engine and this was accompanied by a foreboding  electric smell. After opening the bonnet for closer inspection we agreed that we had no idea what we were looking at but that the car was most definitely undriveable {another new word}. This was not ideal but thanks to a lot of tears and sympathy at the VW workshop, we hired a Yaris, cheap cheap. This was one of those truly significant moments where I truly felt all grown up. So up we packed and 5 of us plus luggage, tents and groceries and off we went. After quite a smooth drive and a less than smooth wait in traffic to get in, we finally made it and headed into the camping area. It was unbelievable packed and we found our campsite located a bit too close to the toilets. Later we realised this was only really a problem when the poo truck came. Nevertheless we didn’t plan on spending much time there considering the amazing line-up and attractions that the festival held.

Shanty Town

Me and Bron

After a hubbly session which resulted in some blisters on my leg due to unnecessary pipe tugging, we headed to the main stage to check out what was going on. We managed to see Machineri which had a few good tunes but were a bit too heavy for my taste. Next was December Streets which was definitely a favourite. Unfortunately, because of aforementioned car troubles we missed Short Straws, Two Minute Puzzle and Beatenberg, all definitely worth a listen.

After a large night and not so much sleeping, especially because we were situated on a fairly main thoroughfare, among other x-rated reasons, the next morning was mostly spent waiting in numerous lines for much needed coffee and showers in the Daisy Den (specifically equipped with hot water, hair dryers and mirrors for those not so hippy hipsters). After which we headed back to our stomping ground to see Trenton and Free Radical. We then decided to visit the comedy tent but arrived a couple of hours early and only realised about an hour into waiting to off we went again and I believe we saw The Rudimentals but its hard to tell. My dear brother then led me to the drunk side and roped me into the “eco-friendly”/slightly degrading task of collecting a cup full of stompies to trade for a full can of Black Label. After some more pointless shenanigans and some stuff I cant really recall we enjoyed a smashing performance (as always) by Desmond and the Tutu’s. Some electro tent vibes and some jamming in a tent that looked like a shanty town we headed over to the much anticipated Bloc Party performance. Besides the fact that at this point I had pretty much no idea where anyone I knew was (I later found out my brother had wandered into a vineyard and was reliving his lunch time meall), I thoroughly enjoyed myself. The performance was electric and the crowd was pulsing with energy. The night continued in a similar fashion and did not stop until morning.

Main Stage

Tent view

All-in-all the performances I saw, and remember seeing, were outstanding and all deserve a YouTube search. The next day we engaged in the painful task of packing up in the rain. I then realised that, oh no, my flight was not far off and we hadn’t even exited the farm yet. I filled the car with tension on the drive to the airport. Thank goodness just made it because my mom and bank would have been less than impressed had I missed my flight. I ended up flying with my high school Maths teacher and the December Street’s guys – and yes I did get star struck. Finally made it home and enjoyed my last home cooked dinner before another flight the next day.

Me and the best brother in the world, Siemon Smit

This blog entry is dedicated to all my amazing friends and family who never fail to warm my heart and make me wonder why I left home. 

La La Land

When money falls into the hands of, how should we put it, the slightly eccentric, things can go dangerously awry as I learnt on our last charter. We were given a 10 day charter in the middle of our boss trip, what a relief…..or so we thought. We were about to find out how sorely mistaken we were.

Two days before their arrival, we were to expect 5 guests. The day before, it went up to 7. An hour before it went up to 8 and not long after back down to 5. Eventually it settled on 5 sleep on guests and 3 extra for dinner. The numbers weren’t the problem but the constant changing of plans should have been our first clue about the madness that was about to ensue.

That night we welcomed Madam, her husband, best friend, teenage daughter and friend. The first night went as smoothly as planned as we had the chief of police of Monaco on board, it kind of had to go according to plan. Although he was a very nice chap and didn’t seem to mind chaos too much as it came with him in the form of his 5 year old son (we were literally running after him). This evening lulled us into a false security that led us to believe that this was going to be the easiest charter ever, I mean, 4 stews, 5 guests, maybe a couple more, what could go wrong??

The next day is when the madness began. Now it is all very confusing as the charter was kind of upside down (awake all night, sleep all day) but I think this is how it went…..

View of the boat from Hotel Splendido

View of Hotel Splendido from the boat

We made the 6 hour trip to Portofino where the crew were treated to dinner at the Hotel Splendido. The best hotel in in Portofino required the best ensemble, so off we – I want to say trotted but we were, in fact, chauffeured, looking rather dapper. We were greeted with Belini’s (champagne and peach juice for those who don’t know), whilst listening to the live in-house pianist and made small talk with the teenagers about Justin Bieber (obviously), appropriate club wear and who the best comedians were. I cant remember what I ordered for a starter, so it couldn’t have been that good but the duck I had for main was delicious as was the strawberry tart for dessert. After dinner, feeling slightly fuller and slightly tipsy we returned smack bang to reality and off goes the gorge dress and on with the uniform. My night was made rather exciting though thanks to Tom and his fishing skills. He managed to hook an eel and bring it to the surface but  made the mistake of handing the rod to an inexperienced fisherman who let the bugger get away. I think this was much to Toms relief, he made no secret of the fact that he hated eels.

Not long after sunrise (around the same time we went to bed), we were heading for Nice airport, 6 hours in the opposite direction, to pick up another guest. And then back to Portofino again. And then back to Nice airport for some more guests and then back to Portofino again! We ended up making the trip 3 times in 2 days and clearly burning fuel (and shit load of money) was not their highest concern.

Sunset at anchor in Cannes

Amongst all the mad travelling, we also had slightly made guests. Madame was rather fond of rosè – slightly diluted in a huge glass which was drunk as a breakfast replacement and for refreshment throughout the day. There was also trails of vogue cigarette and jack daniels and coke (a splash of coke poured into a generous amount of jack, that is). Magnesium sachets were also taken at breakfast (rosè), ironically, to prevent complete bodily breakdown from alcohol abuse.

Husband was also quite an interesting character who was equally fond of the vino and had to be reminded everyday where his cabin was, despite it being the only one on the middle deck. When emerging for breakfast (around 12), my “bonjour” was greeted with what I can only describe as a kind of grunted “meeeeeehhhhh” sound and the sight of his shirtless torso – think shrek sized belly, sometimes pants-less and on one occasion wearing his wife’s shirt. Madame’s rather suspicious “best friend” couldn’t speak English (slight difficulty), always carried Madam’s money for her and argued with her like they were an old married couple. Lesbian rumours were hardly squashed when Madam revealed she hadn’t slept with her current husband….ever and after a particularly vino fulled evening and early morning gave Danny kisses on her neck.

Anyway after Nice airport we made our was to Bonafacio where we were treated to a lobster dinner at the islands best seafood restaurant. The lobster pasta was the best and the crumbed mussels are also a definite must-try!

The travelling circus then proceeded to Elba, against the captains wishes as there was a huge strom brewing just off the coast but what charter guests want, charter guests get! The next day I got to experience what the boys had been suffering all trip long – non-stop energiser bunny on a mission to fish water-sport and beat the boys to death. After some fun banana boating and not so fun but rather suicidal manta ray* riding, I walked away with a salt chafed throat, bleeding and grazed, with much higher respect for the boys.

The last day was by far the worst. Two-to-three meter swells, an 18 hour journey with guests who, in the midst of head-splitting crashes of crockery on the floor, vomiting guests and crew occupying all bathrooms, lethargic, seasick teenagers, asks you – who is basically K.O. on the sky lounge floor – in his slow grunty French bur: “ou est le van blanc” (where is the white wine). Most people in my situation would have brought their breakfast back up but luckily I hadn’t eaten for 24 hours so I stumbled over to Tom with a glass and he did the rest thankfully.

After what seemed like a life-time of craziness we waved goodbye to our guests, only to see them an hour later for dinner again. This charter really was lasting forever. So up the hill in Monaco we went to a quaint Italian restaurant where we were force fed not only heaps of food, but also bottles and bottles of wine and limoncello, which is the last thing you feel like after being seasick for 18 hours. Eventually after the longest dinner ever, half of which I found numerous different ways of disposing of countless shots of limoncello on the sly, it was home time. Very disappointingly and after all the cocktail making, cookie baking, mad water sports, drunken ramblings (we were the recipients), cleaning  and cooking critiques, crazy travelling and guests who took the phrase “make yourself at home” way too literally (sometimes eating dinner in the crew mess), we were left with nada.

The Last Supper

Its hard to believe that all this happened in the space of 10 days but as the title suggests, this really is a crazy world and I suggest to everyone who wants to become above financially stable, make sure you are also mentally stable or risk causing madness (and not the good kind) wherever you go.

Nom Nom Nom

This one is for the foodies out there!!

 Now I am in no way, shape or form (excuse the pun) headed for a career on the cat walk or swim suit editions of Vogue and I have come to peace with this fact. So instead of trying to do an all-liquid diet, no carbs after five, a tea only day (my own invention) or my favourite: cutting out EVERYTHING that has sugar in it – yeah right – I am now happy to indulge in whatever delicious treats come my way.

You see the key is not to cut out food groups or food altogether, or tasting food and then throwing it back up again, the key is, everything in moderation. Being the little piggy I am, this is still an on-going battle I am trying to win; striking a balance. It is, however, an extremely difficult feat when your boss buys 5 cakes at a time, making sure he finds out what your favourite is first as well as the fact that the chef on board is extremely proficient at dessert-making as he is an ex-pastry chef.

As a stewardess, its difficult to make it to meal times when guests are on board because we are at their beck and call and when we do get to sit down for five minutes we stuff as much as we can down our gullets because we don’t know when we will get another chance. I suppose that is also why we get extremely fat during the winter months, we are busy preparing ourselves for the busy summers. Anyway, I have picked out my favourite starter, main and dessert that (fellow safa) Bruce Marais has made so far and thought I should share that as well as a few other amazing meals I have been fortunate enough to sample.

Favourite Starter: Crumbed goats cheese with a baked fig.

Favourite Main: Grilled duck with beetroot, carrot and spinach, topped with an orange sauce

Favourite Salad: Salmon, quails eggs, beetroot, rose petal, and truffle salad

Favourite Dessert: Chocolate fondont 

Other delicious treats!

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Villa Life

You might think this is going to be a glamorous entry because of the title, but I assure you it is far from it.

The Villa

Sometimes when people have too much money they don’t know what to do with themselves so they buy a yacht. Basically a floating hotel that can take you almost anywhere in the world at your disposal. But this isn’t always enough so,  what a lot of yacht owners do is buy Villa’s as well. And not in a different place, no sir-ee, they buy a villa that is just up the road from the port that their boat is based in because when you get bored of the boat, you go up to the villa darling. And visa-versa.

So I found myself being taken away from the luxuriously air-conditioned interior of a super yacht where my most strenuous task was perhaps hoovering, to an ancient, dilapidated building where the furniture was older than me, clearly no magic cleaning fairies lived, and had recently fallen prey to a disastrous septic tank leakage and was now entirely covered in mouldy spores.

Beautiful olive tree

It has been the boss’s family holiday house for nearly five decades and not very well looked after. The boss’s wife, refused last year to stay there and I don’t blame her in the slightest. To say it needed re-doing is an understatement. So when the septic tank burst it gave her the perfect excuse to chuck the ancient furniture and start afresh. It was originally meant to be the top three rooms but it soon turned into so much more. Luckily we were left out of most of the upstairs re-modelling but we were dragged, forced smiles and fake enthusiasm on hand, to do all the dirty work. That’s right, there we found ourselves, in the middle of what I swear were the most scorching days of the summer, carting LOADS of crap in a wheel-barrow, up and down the hill. TV’S, couches, toys, tables, chairs, paintings, crockery, you name it, we chucked it.

Poolside view

Between the sweltering heat, heavy lifting and madam’s high pitched voice in our ears, I’m surprised no-one was killed. For four whole days we continued like this. Boris was near resignation point with the shelving incident, Tom, Ruben and Al were getting seriously ripped – against their will, Lisa and I were having our ears drilled and choking on mouldy spores, and all of us felt like we were going to drop down dead if there was so much as a light breeze the blew in our direction.

There was, however, a time at the end of the day that was magical. The boss barbequed all types of meat, there was bread of every kind, tomato tartar, and of course, the cakes. We all got to enjoy the sparkling pool and a cold beer. We also played badminton and boulles on the perfectly manicured lawn. That was our silver lining. But just as we were all getting comfortable with the good life, back to the boat we went, uniform, ice-buckets, dinner service and just like that the French Dream was shattered.

The boys playing Boulles

Pool break for Captain and Lisa

The funniest moment had to be when Madam was toasting us for all our help and said: “Ah but it was fun, and I think everybody enjoyed themselves.” This statement was greeted by silence and everybody hastily took a sip of champagne before they either laughed or swore at her.

Being subjected to this kind of manual labour, which is not in the original job description can really open your eyes. And here are some valuable lessons I have learned:

1)      Don’t marry for money, it isn’t everything, in fact in the greater scheme of life it means nothing.

2)      Everyone deserves to be treated with respect, whether it’s the gardener, the garbage man or Richard Branson, they are all people with lives and families and stories that should not be judged or dismissed because of their occupation.

3)      Don’t let Tom get hold of an electric fly swatter.

4)      Putting yourself in someone else’s shoes always gives you the best perspective.

5)      There’s nothing a cold glass of wine can’t fix.