
Dear God, If I can’t be Danish in my next life, please just make me rich enough that I don’t have to fly Ryan Air.

Dear God, If I can’t be Danish in my next life, please just make me rich enough that I don’t have to fly Ryan Air.

So we read The Alchemist (a bit) and had some issues with The Witch of Portobello (a lot), but when Mon Oncle is showing at the beautifully, crumbly, sun-damaged Cinema Rif in Tangier, on the very day we roll up, parched and hungry – mere days after blogging about it – we think we believe in some kind of destiny…we’re not sure what kind…but still…



No Talitha Getty, no opium, no kaftans, no sex parties, and most certainly no Karl. But still the most beautiful fall in Marrakesh.

Jesus was too busy to see us, we watched men in speedos shop for groceries and we drank champagne at the copacabana palace. Then it was time to go home.



How to make the perfect Caipirinha
* 1 lime cut in quarters
* sugar to taste
* 6 tablespoons of Cachaca
* crushed ice
* ipanema beach



Fishing for our supper with the sun in our hair; talking to the horses with mud between our toes; sitting on the porch with a cat on our lap, and a cat at our feet, and a cat at the window; nursing a gin; winning at poker; dancing in wellys; painting our nails; carving our names; reading a book; baking a pie; sewing a quilt; passing the time. (byov disclaimer: this is not a poem, so don’t act like it is) www.vanishingcatskills.us

Top 3 things we learned in Gothenburg:
#1 Hearts in our frothy coffee pleases us no end
#2 Eating cracker bread for breakfast is fun
#3 That it is polite to suppress your Acne envy in public