Blue Moon

The view from here is gorgeous. It’s where I’m standing that’s the problem.

Yes the photos are gorgeous, 5 min a day we get amazing photo ops. So many adorable and amazing photos that I’ve probably done more Instagrams in the past 2 months than it should be legally advised. And those are only a fraction of all the ones I have stored in my phone and computer. But that’s only 5min a day. The rest of the time, I now feel an awkward cloud surrounding the farm. Hardly anything is simple, or just purely easy and lovely.

Even baking a cake is a problem…

I had made another one of my mom’s cakes recipes, a tiramisu. It’s a pretty amazing tiramisu might I had. But when I served it, the farmer went: “Next time make smaller portions.”

“Why?” I have to admit I was expecting a thank you, not an accusation.

Just like the time when Rekha cut his hair, she didn’t hear those two little words coming out of his mouth either.

“Because when there are more people, we have to make smaller portions.”

“Huh… why??”

“Because I said so”

Am I a child that needs to be reprimanded? Because that’s what it feels like.

“Well that’s not a good enough explanation for me. If there’s more people, there’s more money so I’ll just make bigger cakes.”

“No because it’s my prerogative to put a cake on the table, so if I say we make smaller portions, that’s how it’s going to be.”

“Hmmm, this is all of our money, it’s my recipe, it’s Rekha and I’s decision and initiative to bake the cakes and no one else is complaining about the size of what’s in their plates.”

“I don’t know how to tell you in another way, I decide.”

“Ok well I can decide to stop making cakes.”

“That’s very selfish of you.”

And that’s where I stopped myself. I really had this massive urge of spitting out: “You want smaller portions so you can steal our leftovers in the middle of the night and stuff your face.”

But I didn’t.

Rekha and the new Italian kid didn’t know what to do. They didn’t know where to look. It was stupid, it was cake for crying out loud. I mean there are so many stupid things Rob does that I could’ve jumped at. This was just the drop of water that made the vase overflow. I don’t really care that he eats part of the cakes in the middle of the night, as long as he leaves some for all of us. But obliging us to eat less so HE could eat more? And being so ungrateful when I’m trying to do something nice to make everyone happy?

The next day I stopped regretting what I had said. Rob was tiptoeing around me and making sure I was the happiest possible, reserving me the comfiest couch, making sure I had a clear view of the mountains, putting on the surfing competition on the TV…

And then his daughter and her family arrived. I thought it couldn’t come at a better time, so he would lay off our backs and spend all his time with his family. How wrong I was. Rekha and Italy spent way more time with the grandkids than he did. And looking back on the photos of that Easter weekend, Izzy, the little girl, is always either by my side or Rekha’s, her grand-father too busy on facebook.

How deep runs the ungratefulness?


Two days after his family left, Rekha asked the farmer if she could go to Sydney next week to say goodbye to a dear friend of hers. Rob said she could go, but that she had to go alone. Meaning I had to stay. Here. Alone. Without her. Was this payback?

I don’t know but again that made me furious. I understand and respect that this is his home, his animals, his rules, but I feel like he’s just trying to have power over us (so we know who’s the boss?). How does he think that’s going to end? Apart from making Rekha sad and me mad, how is this going to appease the tension growing everyday? And does he seriously think he can tame someone like me that way?

Fat chance.

I didn’t particularly care about going back to Sydney again before the end of my farm work. But I need a break from him. And I am dying to socialize. I’ve been silent, and dutiful and basically good for long enough now.

I need… PEOPLE! Seeing new faces, friends, beach, party, alcohol… I haven’t been in trouble for so long I think it might be unhealthy for me.

It’s nice to feel like Cinderella and talking to the animals but come on… I am dying for a real conversation that’s not about how we are going to stop the bees from stinging us.

So here I am, resorting to emotional blackmail. Manipulation 101, but hey, it just might work…

In the meantime, to cure my boredom I’m trying homemade remedies like this Rose and Honey mask

But I have a feeling I’ll see ya’ll in the city very soon… Come around Bondi to see me 😉


Xoxo – From the Mountains with Love


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