The Drama Chef

Prose – Travel – Recipes

Month: June 2016

Troglodytes in Purullena

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“Stop!!!” she screamed at me. I almost got off my lane, the car’s wheel turned sharply when I jumped in the driver’s seat. “What the hell?!” “Stop, stop, please!” There was an exit from the motorway in 100 meters, I flashed and pulled over. I stopped the car, my heart still pounding. “I saw something in the valley, it looked like Petra, please, let’s go and have a look” she said in a soft voice, her eyes not meeting mine. It wasn’t the first time she almost got us killed by shouting “stop!” out of the blue. Sometimes it was a village, sometimes a bridge, sometimes a beach. This road trip in Andalusia was turning out to be more dangerous than I’d have thought. This time it was a troglodytes’ neighbourhood, some miles away from Purullena.

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Erica’s Lemon Pancakes

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part I is here: Erica’s Strawberry-Vanilla Jam

She was working as a translator. Grew up in France, then moved to Spain, then Germany, now Scotland. Never met her father, her mother here and there, they don’t talk anymore. Her teeth didn’t show when she smiled. She had 7 beauty spots on her right shoulder and 3 on her left palm. She hated dogs and loved lemon pancakes.

She talked to me. She really talked to me like if I was an adult, for the first time in my life. She gave me books and CDs, she chose the movies we watched. I was holding her hand in the dark, she was grabbing my ass in the elevator. It was too good to last.

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In all colours memoriam

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All men are equal, but some men are more equal than others.

I reach for his hand, I hold it tight in mine. He turns to me and smiles, the same old smile full of tenderness. I want to carress his cheeck, I want to kiss his lips. But I don’t. Holding his hand is enough. Smiling to him is enough. Let’s not push this.

The toughest part is when I haven’t seen him for a while. Waiting at the airport arrivals, twisting my umbrella in my hands. He comes out, I wanna jump and kiss him, I wanna hug him tight, I wanna tell him how much I love him, how I missed him. I bite my lips hard, I bleed. We shake hands speechless instead. In the tram, my shoulder trembles when I touch his.

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The rock of Gibraltar

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Let me take you somewhere you have never been before. Up on a rock which stands next to the sea, green and magnificent. No, we are not alone here and we’re just uninvited guests. That’s their home and we’re intruding, so be kind and quiet. But beware, for they like to harass you when you least expect it, jump on your back, pull your hair and steal your jacket or your camera. This is the rock of Gibraltar, their rock, and they’ll do what they want.

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