Thursday, May 28, 2009

The Tale of Princess Nanny

by Juanita Viale and Isabella Viale

Once upon a time there was a beautiful princess from Vienna named Princess Nanny. She was the most beautiful princess, no arugas, not viejita, but very beautiful.

One day as she was looking out the window of her majestic castle, she saw the ocean, and how pretty the waves of the crystalline ocean moved, she thought to herself, "ahhh, how much I would love to meet a prince and smell the flowers he would bring me."
Then in the distance she heard something, and it became louder and louder. What could it be?

"Tabouleh, tabouleh, freshly made, buy it today, Taboulehhhh!!!!"

She looked down from her window, and saw this tall, poor peasant selling Tabouleh. However, he didn't look like the usual peasant from the nearby village. There was something different.
He was tall, and she saw the reflection of the sun from the top of his head, and in that moment, as she saw the light, the poor peasant Tabouleh salesman, looked up, and smiled politely at her.

It was as if lightning struck, for the princess could not move, she was frozen. Her heart was racing, but she could not let anyone see her face, because a princess can never be caught with rosy red cheeks. Her dignity as a innocent royal princess might be lost along with her virtue.

She quickly turned around and went to her bed and sat there listening to her heart pounding not knowing what to do next.

The dinner bell rang, and the princess washed her face before she floated down the stairs to the dining quarters. She sat down at the table and the butler removed the sterling silver cover from her dinner plate. She gasped. She couldn't believe it. Tabouleh.

The queen mother Isabelle asked, "My darling Marie, you looked as if you saw a ghost, what is the matter?"
"Nothing Mother, everything is fine. It is just that this is the best smelling Tabouleh I have ever smelled" she quickly replied.
"Yes, we had it specially delivered because your father, King Segundo, tasted it the other day and immediately fell in love with it."

So did she, she thought to herself.

She ate the entire plate, and asked for seconds. She couldn't get enough. King Segundo was so pleased he asked his staff to go fetch the good man that made such a favorable Tabouleh.

A few moments later, the tall peasant walked in and the princess held her breath and kept her eyes on her plate afraid her parents would notice.

"Kind Sir, please tell us where you are from" the King politely demanded.

" I am of Russian descent my Lord, and I come from God's country", he proudly proclaimed.

In that moment, the princess accidentally knocked her wine goblet over, spilling the red wine all over her embroidered dress.

"Ahhh!", she screamed.

Immediately, the poor peasant ran over and took a dining napkin to her big bosoms to wipe of the wine. The princess fainted from the touch of his hands upon her breast and fell into his arms.

After the peasant carried her to the sofa, the King held his sword and knighted the poor peasant for saving his daughter. When the princess woke up, the peasant Tabouleh salesman was dressed in his new knighthood attire and stood on one knee before her.

He asked, "My kind princess, ,would you give me the honor of giving me your hand in marriage?".
She looked at him and asked "Do you have Tatoo?".
"No", he replied, " I don't have Tatoo."
A moment later, she looked deeply into his eyes and faintly whispered, "Only if you give me another bowl of your Tabouleh."

And they lived happily ever after.













The End

Wednesday, May 27, 2009

Taylor's 2nd Birthday BBQ

"A single rose can be my garden... a single friend, my world"-Leo Buscaglia

Nicolas and I decided to celebrate Taylor's 2nd birthday with a bbq with all of our new friends in our new life. Being that we are masters of orchestrating great bbq's, we thought the idea of spending an afternoon in our garden with our new friends would be a great way for everyone to get to know our family, especially the birthday girl.

The day couldn't have been prettier. Blue skies, warm weather and the shade of our wonderful olive tree made for the perfect place to have our special celebration. Nonna came in the night before and helped with the children and the decor. She said to me, "Saquier has changed, the energy is different now", and I replied, "We are here now".

That thought bounced around in my head for the next few moments as I vividly flashed back to all of my long and emotional days in Hosptial de Ninos. Back then, never would I have thought that we would be here in France, on Papi Paul's vineyard, in the same playground that Nicholas played in as a child. And now here we are, Taylor strong, progressing, reacting, smiling, thriving and all of us as well. Really....a miracle.

All of our friends arrived, the music began, and the smell of grilling meats and sausages wafted through the air with the gentle breeze. The conversations flowed with Bellet wine, and the laughter of the kids playing echoed in the background. The surrounding scenery of the blooming vines, the olive trees and the rugged mountains across the valley embraced us and made for beautiful pictures bringing out the natural and kind essence of our friends.
As we sang happy birthday to Taylor and blew out the two candles on her Tarte Tropezienne, I noticed that we were in the center of the circle. I grinned as I knew Taylor and Isabella are the center of our universe.

The day ended, and as Nicholas, Nonna, Girla, Taylor and myself relaxed in the garden, the peaceful quiet returned and we sank back into our chairs and cushions and just felt the love.

Happy Birthday Taylor.

Wednesday, May 20, 2009

The Day that Everything Changed


"Experience is the teacher of all things." -Julius Caesar

When people bear their children, the feeling of one's life purpose sinks in. This new creation, is now the reason for one's existence. I felt it when I had my first daughter, Isabella, and as I was being wheeled into the delivery room for the second time on May 20th 2007, a month earlier than my due date, I knew that the next few hours would define who I am and who I would become for the rest of my life.

After 4 pushes, Taylor flew out, her two strong cries bounced off the walls in the delivery room, but then fell silent. I handed her to the doctor and told him she wasn't breathing. This would be the beginning of what would be the most emotionally painful experience of my life.

The fact that she is alive is a miracle. For her to be able to survive for so long with hardly any lungs is something that I give thanks to God every morning. I will not get into the details that followed, because she is here, alive and well. The obsessive play-by-play details that ensued after she was born and the months she spent fighting for her life in the hospital is more of my own issue, since she was the one who did all the work. I could only pray, and touch whatever part of her tiny little body that didn't have any tubes connected to it...her feet.

Anger, despair, frustration, but most of all, the pain and sadness from my soul that only a mother can understand, filled those eternal days in the waiting room, and the unbearable nights back in the hotel room. I wanted to know why. I wanted to blame someone. I wanted to blame myself. I wanted to blame the doctor. I wanted to blame God.

There was just no way for me to claw my way out of this deep hole, and all I could do was wait. I would agonize over the fact that my sadness had no place since Taylor was the one fighting. I could only give her strength, instead of focusing on my weaknesses. But how? I was an empty shell.

Every experience during those months, with my family by my side, with the families of the other babies, with the doctors, was an unexplainable moment in my life, and perhaps was the reason that I would never see life with the same eyes any more. The life that I had taken for granted so many times, would be the one that I now cherished in every moment and in every second.

It was during these moments, that I regained my faith in God and I what it is to pray. I do believe Taylor is a miracle, a direct message from God, and although the lesson has been extreme, I do believe that perhaps I would have never learned so much had this never happened. How could I? It is as if a rite of passage was laid out before me with no other option but to take it.

The raw painful feelings of those months and of the day she was born still surface from time to time, but have formed a special place inside of me that ironically fuels my strength. I know that her road ahead is long, and the mountain of struggles to climb will require a lifetime of dedication, strength and patience. But in the pool of her deep blue eyes, I can see the spirit of God who will help her every step of the way, illuminating the path. And it is the Love of our family surrounding her that will carry us up to the top.







Monday, May 18, 2009

A Girls Weekend in Corsica


"Happiness is not something ready made. It comes from your own actions."- Dalai Lama


As much as I love my house, I had to leave. Time for this bird to see new things as well as my little birds, Isabella and Taylor. The choice was clear. Corsica
.

Traveling to Corsica was alot easier than I had expected in that I was traveling by myself and the girls. Taking the car was the best idea, and was a breeze on the ferry. We boarded the Corsica Ferry, and within less than a half hour, we were comfortably set up in our handicap cabin, and already on deck with the other passengers waving goodbye to the coastline of Nice speckled with sunbathers.



Girla, well, she just made herself right at home, and by the end of our outward journey, she had won the affection of some Harley Davidson riders on board, as well as a few other passengers.

We arrived and headed south to a small understated town called Folleli. Our hotel was located on the beach on a vast private piece of lush property. For a moment, I thought I was back in Costa Rica as I watched the leaves of the palm trees sway with the gentle breeze.

Our villa was so simple and charming, at immaculately clean. Just being able to wake up in the morning and go out onto the terrace laced with roof high roses made me instantly feel like we chose the right place. By 9am we were eating our 'petit dejeuner' on the restaurant's terrace over looking the blue meditteranean. By no means were we in the most beautiful part of Corsica, but it was the fact that since it was pre-season, and a gorgeous day, it really didn't matter. We were here. Most of the morning was spent on the beach, afternoon lunch in another nearby village of San Nicalao. Pizza, salad, and a small craffe of wine served in a charming little decanter...we were happy. I was continually amazed to see the beautiful flowers everywhere. I guess Corsicans have green thumbs. As for me, I seem to be really good at growing weeds!


The natural landscape of the eastern side of Corsica reminded me of a combination of Costa Rica and France. With the lush nature, high mountains, sprinkled with French villas and vineyards, it was like I had just found my new Tamarindo.

My time with the girls was so wonderful. Their faces beaming with beautiful smiles.

Corsica, we will see you soon.


Wednesday, May 13, 2009

Fighting the Weeds

“If you don't like something, change it. If you can't change it, change your attitude"-Maya Angelou

We planted our first garden in November 2008 with broad beans, lettuce, fennel, onions. As soon as the spring came in 2009 I started adding to it. I planted peppers, tomatoes, eggplant, zucchini...expecting of course to grow some of the Meditteranean's finest harvest.

As our lettuce, beans, artichokes proved likewise, the rest are kind of in a standstill from flourishing. I am not sure why, although I seem to be growing weeds with no problem. I weed, I water, but the plants are still about the same size, maybe they have grown a little. To make my gardener's ego feel worse, Auntie Helen planted tomatoes, zucchinis, and eggplants in her large green house with the help of the vineyard worker, in a neat and professional manner, and the plants have grown so much in just two weeks!

Although I don't have such help at my disposal, I refuse to believe that my little fighters/survivors won't grow in the very soil that nutures and grows so many vines that produce the wine on this family vineyard. The weeding is endless, and just when I think I have pulled them all out, in a day or two, more creep out. I refuse to put any chemical...that is the whole point of this garden. Organically grown for our family.

It seems, that I can't even miss a day tending this struggling garden, otherwise all hell breaks looks.

One of the greatest joys is when Nicholas made our first Saquier Salad with our beans, artichokes, and lettuce. A real Nicoise specialty, and was absolutely divine. We were beside ourselves as we ate our wonderful salad outdoor in the late spring sun, convinced that no restaurant on the Cote d'Azur could provide a salad as fresh as this one. We relished this moment, and all of a sudden we wanted to plant everything possible.



But before I set out on this back breaking, daunting task, (since it is my back which has its own story to tell), I wanted to see what we alreay have in the garden grow.

Everytime I weed, I get into this meditative state and start thinking about life. I realize that this vicious weeds represent all of life's challenges, and if I miss or ignore just one, I know I can expect to see these weeds mulitply ten fold. If you don't pull the weed by it's roots, its like cheating, because the weed is still there and will continue to fester my innocent plants.

After a glass of wine, I relaxed, but the frustration of me being able to continue with the garden lingered, as well as my expectation of disappointment...dead plants.

However, I wouldn't make any drastic decisions, so I told Gira to water the garden while I took a nap hoping that when I wake up, I will have a different attitude. For now, its status quo...so I will go on.



Tuesday, May 12, 2009

Thoughts Speaks Louder than Words

“Unless a life is lived for others, it is not worthwhile” - Mother Teresa of Calcutta

When I search for some clarity, a deeper thought, perhaps an intellectual ephiphany, I ask myself if I would be able to recognize it? Would I be able to really listen and understand the message rather than just to hear the words?

So I began the search, but whose words would help me the most? And would their message be to complicated or too religious for me to comprehend or to use? And in what context? What is it that I am looking for?

Maybe I am thinking to much, for such a great answer, and maybe the answer I seek is in the simplest form. So perhaps, my answer is Love.
Such a long story, a pandora's box really, but maybe its time I open that box, and in doing so...find the obvious of that which I cannot see.

So I begin.