Language is evolving as we grasp for ways to express pandemic life. People are not only staying in, but hunkering down and practicing self-isolation. We’re actively engaged in social distancing so we can flatten the curve. Some are suggesting we crush the curve…
We’re instructed to stay in place or pause, but officials are avoiding the term lockdown. They’re not telling us to shelter in place, but we know we should. Andy Beshear, the soothing and reassuring governor of my state holds daily press conferences where he repeatedly reminds us that we’re safe at home. He and others are finding ways to soften the harshness of pandemic language, all while communicating the gravity of the day’s developments.
My six year-old nieces tell me about boredom during the quarantine and explain that they don’t have school due to the sickness or the cor-on-a-vir-us. My four-year old nephew seems very happy to be home with his family. He told me that his teachers aren’t at school right now.
Friends in France tell me about their gestes barrièrs (barrier actions) and the effet barrière (barrier effect) that results from maintaining physical distance. They know they must lisser la courbe (smooth the curve). France’s shutdown is called le confinement, and social media is buzzing with tips for confinement cooking, confinement reading, and entertaining kids during the confinement.
It is clear that language is shifting. Which terms will stick? What linguistic changes have you noted? As you practice social distancing, how are you passing the time?
The depth of nothingness is directly related to the experience of everythingness. —Matthew Fox
I’ve spent years combing the internet for tips on preparing my own meals for airplane travel. Especially on long haul flights, I like to bring my own food along for the ride—it is healthy and economical. Some food bloggers prepare fairly intricate, time-intensive recipes for their trips, but with the last-minute chaos I inevitably encounter before I take off, I must keep things simple. In this post I share my strategy for putting together meals for travel and give you a few examples of recent meals I’ve packed.
I am just back from a brief business trip to France and basking in the glory of home. My days in Nantes passed in a flash—meetings, a bit of research, a few get-togethers with friends, and inordinate amounts of bread, cheese, and Muscadet. Then… poof! The week was over and I was headed home.
Every so often I take a day or two to engage in extreme rest. I have created a structured life for myself, so it is never convenient, never easy to drop everything in favor of rest. But I’ve found that stillness staves off burnout. Letting my thoughts fall away energizes me. And successive naps in the span of a few days reengage my creativity, helping me to maintain levity and optimism.
My ten days in Australia were magical. I had never imagined I would travel there, so apart from the Sydney Opera House and kangaroos, I didn’t hold any fixed images of what Australia might be or mean to me. Arriving without expectations left me open to experiencing each day’s offerings—beach walks, fish markets, Aboriginal art. At each turn there was a friendly face ready to welcome me to Australia and perhaps point me to my next adventure.
Inspired by Vladia Cobrodova’s Creamy Mint Pesto, this spread freezes well, so consider making a double batch when mint is abundant.
I’ve been making versions of Daniel Boulud’s gazpacho for almost 20 years. Over time I’ve streamlined the steps, but I still blanch the bell peppers to lessen their sharp bite. This recipe makes a creamy red soup, flecked with basil. Adapted from Café Boulud Cookbook
Outdoor markets and picnics. Quintessential French experiences that join food, fellowship, and nature. Versailles is lucky to have some of the best farmers’ markets in the greater Paris area. So why not take advantage of the abundance and pair a morning market visit with a picnic lunch?