Blogging has opened the door that unleashed treasures of the heart long time buried but never forgotten. Memories of the past that at times replays automatically as though it has a life of its own. Not all are bad or sad. Like the time I was window shopping in Bern, Switzerland and came across what looked like a store with racks of pants and I started going through it looking for my size (they were mostly jeans). The lady kept saying “beleg” but I just continued what I was doing until I got fed up with her following me around and left the store. I went to a bookstore across the street and asked one of the Sales Clerk who luckily spoke English why the lady in the jeans store repeatedly asked for “beleg”. She told me that I went to a Dry Cleaning store and pointed out the sign “Reinigung”! How would I know that “beleg” meant Slip/Receipt and the sign meant dry cleaning ?? That was my first trip. This will always make me laugh when I remember it.
Then there’s the memory of being a guest of a very hospitable family in Barcelona, Spain who owned a cork business. Mounds and mountains of wine/ bottle cork in the yard. Paella aldente was cooked outside in a big caste iron deep pan. Lunch was served in the garden amidst flowers and ferns. A small wooden wine barrel sat among cheeses, fruits and freshly baked Pan Rustico. After a long lunch, I was escorted to a room upstairs that had a open veranda that overlooked the garden. I was told it was ” siesta time ” (nap). Such event is hard to forget.
Sitting on a chair in the corner table of a restaurant in Salzburg, Austria would have been uneventful except once this was where the famous Mozart sat most mornings composing his classical music. His name was engraved in the chair I sat. There was one also with the name Haydn. It was a privilege to be in the same room and imagine what it was like in those days and time. So rich in culture.
Another warm recollection was some winter nights when I had to walk the family dog Suzette. The air was crisp with scattered stars and the snow covered grounds looked immaculate through the lamppost light. Whenever we reached the end of the road, I would stand infront of the street sign “Sandrainstrasse” and know that one day I will leave, look back on this night and miss it. Although being there was a prelude to an impending permanent move, my heart seemed to know then that it was not going to happen and true enough, it did not. After a year and three months I passed that street sign one last time, looked around and whispered my goodbye to Bern.
I am blessed to have many memories tacked away. I chose to remember only those that will bring a smile, warmth and giggle. Pleasant thoughts of people and lives once shared. Of all the treasures I have stored, some made a niche hard to forget. So here I am dear Blog sharing a few of those buried treasures deep in my little heart. A short and simple account of a past well lived with no regrets.