“I can’t wait for breakfast!” If you want to join the minority who hang out for breakfast each morning, try eating less the night before. It’s a great habit that my family mostly does when on holiday. On our recent trip to London we couldn’t wait to get to Tinto Cafe in Fulham Palace Road each morning for a generous cup of their smooth Colombian coffee and amazing home-made granola, yoghurt and berry cups. This healthy combo gave us enough energy for at least four or five hours of exploring the wonderful sights of London. Upon our return to Australia I tried to emulate the granola, yoghurt, berry breakfast. It’s not half so good but we still love the contrast of crunchy granola with smooth creamy yoghurt and tart berries. It’s a fantastic start to the day – and it’s good for you.
Only a quarter of Australians eat breakfast each day despite it being a great way to control weight and reduce risk of heart disease. Part of the evidence backing up the new Australian Dietary Guidelines reports that eating cereals is
Posted on : 21-09-2013 | By : Cindy | In : Travelling
“It’s the red sea that the veterans most remember,” Brigette, our Normandy D-Day tour guide, tells us. I look at the gentle waves rolling into Omaha Beach and try to imagine them red, stained with the blood of the 7000 men felled by the deadly 88mm gun behind me. It’s positioned to fire, not out to sea, but down the beach. It can kill a soldier ten kilometres away. I follow the line of the gun imagining what the Germans would have seen: 37,000 soldiers jumping from their metal boats into the icy water and racing across the flat expanse of sand. Today it’s quiet – just a few tourists dotted on the golden sand, their hair whipped by the permanent wind that sweeps across from England. This salty wind flavours the grass giving Normandy mutton a distinctive seasoned flavour. Hovering above the cliffs like brightly coloured poppies are a handful of hang gliders. It’s peaceful, calm, and nothing like what it must have been at 6.30am on the sixth of June 1944.
I try to imagine running up this beach, stomach churning with sea sickness, uniform sodden with seawater, caught in the cross fire of these deadly 88mm guns stationed all along the beach. I look at the clear sweep of sand and imagine trying to run, tripping over hundreds of my dead and injured comrades, and dodging the deadly Rommel asparagus’s which are not vegetables but wooden asparagus shaped mines sticking out of the sand. I listen to the birds singing and imagine the deafening noise of gunfire, shouting and young men screaming. I expect to feel something bad, an echo of the horrors that occurred here but there’s nothing.
Posted on : 01-09-2013 | By : Cindy | In : Travelling
I look out the train window as we swish past ancient stone villages and rolling farmland dotted with hay bales looking like giant bobbins. After three weeks without rain the usually green fields are parched and brown. Normandy is known for its rain and yet we are about to spend five sunny, hot days exploring Bayeux, tasting Norman cuisine and visiting the D-Day sites.
I am not as enthusiastic about war history as my husband and son and the thought of spending two full days visiting war graves, war museums and war sites does not thrill me quite so much as a food tour would have. Fortunately our guide, Brigitte (“My mother named me after Brigitte Bardot”) tells us lots of stories which add the human touch.
One of our first stops is Pegasus Bridge, north of Caen near Benouville. It was here that three gliders each carrying thirty soldiers landed on a narrow strip of grass just after midnight on June 6 1944.