Testosterone powered Holidays

13 Sep

 

In January 2010 we had a French boy living with us. My son always enjoys the international students we host in our family. In a way Henry has a lot of brothers and sisters living all over the world. Once they lived with us for a while, they like to stay in touch and I have a big guest book to keep track.

The French boy, Quentin (13) and Henry (now 11) loved everything that looks dangerous to me and they kept me busy with keeping them busy. To entertain the boys, we visited every skate park and concrete ramp in a circle of 50km and I had to watch all bicycle and skateboard stunts ever invented. After the first day l decided to carry a first aid kit, 20m of plaster and a set of tools in my handbag to be prepared for any accident, vehicle break-down or other emergency. 

I have never seen so much blood in my life. But now I am used to it and I can even eat my sandwich while rinsing another open wound. Humans get used to everything, it seems… The last three holiday weeks I needed more Antiseptic fluid for wound preparation than olive oil for cooking. 

One day I even had to go fishing! The boys made fishing rods and off we went to the beach. To be honest, I really hoped, they didn’t catch anything, because my kind of “personal religion” and my sensitive artist nature plus the admiration for Ghandi and Mother Theresa don’t allow me to hurt or kill any animals and people. I am sure, if I had to kill what I eat, I would definitely be a Vegetarian! I just can’t hit a fish until he dies and then even pull out its inner organs. Just thinking of it kills my appétit for the next two days. But I have no problem to walk into “Fish World” and buy the most beautiful fish filet, killed by somebody else. Maybe because at the end of the day I am just a European city-girl, that normally hunts for bargains, not for living animals.

Thank God fishing turns out to be not as easy as it looks. After 25 lost hooks, 1 kg of wasted bait and 5000m of terribly tangled fishing line we had noodles for dinner.

I really hope, “pig hunting” is not the next big thing…

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