Waking up to a winter wonderland and porcini on toast

Over the last few weeks the temperatures in Munich dropped from golden, 25-degree autumn sunshine to below zero. I've been collecting coats and gloves, as well as hats and socks and scarves for my first winter in Europe - and now I think I've already used them all in one weekend.

I've been out and about in the snow to run errands over the weekend and quickly learned that a hat with a rim and a good coat work better than an umbrella or a beanie when it snows. The rim of a hat keeps the snowflakes from getting into my eyes (believe me, it hurts!) and, since it's too cold for the ice to melt, I can simply 'dust' off the snowflakes on my coat whenever I reach my destination.

Last night when I walked home after dinner with friends, the sidewalk was already covered in snow dust and I also noticed a thick layer of snow icing the autumn leaves and cars outside. So this morning I couldn't wait to see the winter wonderland in the daylight. It's the season's first snow and it's fairy tale pretty.

One of the greatest pleasures about living in Europe is the seasonal ingredients I can pick up at the open air markets on my way through the central city. Seasons are truly embraced here in Bavaria and meals (even restaurant menus) are planned around the local ingredients available at the time. At the moment porcini mushrooms abound and you can also pick them in the forests yourself if you know what to look for.

In Germany they are called Steinpilz (stone mushrooms) and I love how the vendor around the corner from my office carves little characters into his porcini display.

This morning I celebrated the snow with some of the mushrooms I bought from this stall, sautéed in butter and relished on toasted Bauernbrot (farmer's rye bread) for breakfast. Apparently these mushrooms also have powerful anti-viral properties, which is a perfect health perk for me as my body gets used to this sudden drop in temperature.

Everything is so quiet when it snows. Almost like a hush that highlights special moments such as unwrapping the brown paper from my fresh porcino mushrooms and savouring the aromas as it melts into the butter - and later, in my mouth.

I've saved a few mushrooms for making pasta later so I can set off its earthy, nutty flavours with a glass of red wine, or a little grappa, as the afternoon unfolds.

Summer in the Berchtesgadener Alps

As we set out for our second day of hiking in the Berchtesgadener Alps around Königssee we encountered a neat little patch of snow. I couldn't believe my eyes. Yes, the mist just about lifted and the air certainly had a chill to it - but we spent five hours climbing that mountain in 30-degree heat the day before. It was hot! And yet, snow!

Incredible, I tell you.

The white patch of sand in the photo may seem just as out of place. A beach in the middle of the mountains? Well, sort of. The Alps around Berchtesgadener is home to an abundance of white quartz. This may be why the sand in the area tends to be white, especially around the glittering lakes. The water coming from these mountains is known to be the purest in the whole of Germany - and Germany's water is rated pretty high in general. Swimming in a lake as crisp fresh as this after two days of intensive mountaineering is a regenerating experience to say the least.

But - let me start at the beginning. We (myself and a couple of expat friends) made a three hour train trip from Munich to Berchtesgadener - home to another fantastic beer brewery, just by the way. From here we walked along a footpath that follows a mountain stream running into the Königssee (King's Lake). We continued our journey by boat halfway down the lake to St Bartholomew, a small pilgrimage church and inn. I was totally enchanted by the epic surroundings - yet the challenging climb ahead quickly brought me right back down to earth. The Alps may be pretty - all butterflies and forget-me-nots - but they are deceiving. Every time I thought we had reached the top, there was another climb ahead. My thighs were complaining but my eyes were (almost) in heaven.

Heaven being the view from the Kärlinger Haus mountain hut - once we finally reached it. The tiny little Funtensee (Funten Lake) was almost like a dream image, greatly enhanced with each sip of well deserved Berchtesgadener beer. All the hikers at the hut were on a tangible high - there's something about the fresh air, the altitude and the gentle yet challenging beauty of it all that is a total rush.

At the end of our two day hike, after our swim in the lake on the picture above, we rewarded our tired bodies with a smoked trout meal at a pub around Königssee. Slow food, locally caught, smoked and cooked. Here, we lingered a little longer than planned, unsure whether we were too tired to rush, or too reluctant to leave. I may need a little time to recover, but there may just be another Alpine mountain ahead.

When in Munich, follow the music

The girl sitting next to me on the train hummed quietly and started singing as we got off at the same stop. The sound of her voice travelled on the still evening air and reverberated through my body. As we seemed to be heading the same way I followed her somewhat enchanted - until I met up with my friend Gina - and was temporarily released from the spell.

Some of the most beautiful things about Munich are chance encounters - walking home on a summer's evening and being lured by the sound of a classical street quartet around the next corner. Or a travelling trio livening up the tedious wait for an underground train with a few chords on a Spanish guitar.

Someone told me in passing that the Munich locals sometimes dance at the Diana Temple in the Hofgarten (Court Garden) - weather depending, of course, as this is an open air garden structure. And on this summer's evening Gina and I decided to pass through the Hofgarten on our way to dinner.

It was full moon - and the summer air was thick with humidity and magic.(I know, almost over-the-top romantic but somehow these kinds of moments really do take on a surreal sort of edge).

Gina and I crossed the Odeonsplatz and lingered for a while to take in the passion that a pianist brought to the evening. However difficult it must be to transport heavy musical instruments such as a grand piano, it is so worth it from a spectator's side. These kinds of performances make classical music, theatre and even opera freely available to anyone and everyone - right there on the sidewalk - and adds an incredible soundtrack to the city.

From Odeonsplatz we continued into the Hofgarten. As we got closer to the Diana Temple the tango music increasingly possessed the air around us, gently willing us into a silent awe. Candles flickered on the temple tiles and dancing shoes carefully moved across the scattering of rose petals, infusing the air with the sweet smell of flowers.

And there she was, the girl from the train, dancing the tango as though in a trance, her eyes filled with a collected madness - as though there was no other person in the world but her partner and no other moment than this.

I remain but a spectator, the story teller rather than the story - but moments like this remind me that, just sometimes, its worth taking a step back from this mad rush we call life. There are moments that require one to be truly present. To own your moment. To live with abandon. And to keep dancing even if everyone's watching.

A display of Bavarian summer: pretty flower boxes

My grandmother had green fingers. More than that, she was, like, The Plant Whisperer. Her mere presence could turn a simple garden into a lush paradise. I've never had the chance to test whether any of that rubbed off on me.

Until I moved to Munich.

As with many other apartments in this German city, mine has a balcony with flower boxes. These tiny explosions of colour brighten up residential areas all over Europe. For me, flower boxes really are one of the prettiest things about the summer here. While the public city gardens also celebrate the sunshine with impressive displays of colour, flower boxes are a sort of personal contribution to making the season look even more festive.

For me, it is super exciting to be on the inside making a planter box of my own and not just a passing outsider admiring them.While I arrived in Munich slightly too late in the year to grow my flowering plants from seeds, it was easy to visit a nursery next to the Isar and choose a couple of multi-coloured flower trays. I double checked to make sure that all the elements of my mix & match flower tray palette would be happy to greet the morning sun. Soon I made my way home with arms full of plant trays and flower food.

I never thought it would be this rewarding to see the result of my instant garden. In fact I have never been so excited to see a few flowers in a box. It might be a humble start and only time will tell if I can keep the pretty flowers happy. However, the simple task of choosing and planting them has evoked in me a feeling of joy that makes me wish I can invite my gran for a cup of tea right here on my flowering Bavarian balcony.

Love all around the world

A part of me stayed in Wackersberg after that trip to see my friend Caroline get married in the Alps. It was a reunion of best friends who met in Cape Town while studying years ago and my first flight out of Cape Town after coming back from Dubai.

These people have had such a big part in shaping who I am today. They have loved me through the best and the worst of times. Between Frankfurt, London, Dubai and Cape Town, we’ve managed to stay in touch over the ocean and spend many holidays together over the years. Borders, visas and beaurocracies may make things more difficult these days but it cannot really separate.

Looking back over 2010 I am only grateful. After almost three years of living in Dubai my Capetonian friends received me back in the Mother City with open arms. I felt not only welcome but celebrated and whilst I lost myself a little in the desert they were ready to guide me back onto my path. It is because of the people who love me that I can step into 2011 a stronger, happier and more courageous me.

I realize now that I am incredibly blessed with love. I may have a scattered family and still be very single, but I am surrounded by so many people whose eyes light up at my company - in so many parts of the world. People would take me in at the blink of an eye, who has never used my secrets against me and who are always ready to listen and choose my side no matter what.

It’s my friends, more than anyone, who has taught me what it means to love.

In the Alps with bells on

Encountering so much peace and quiet at the foot of the Alps was almost a shock. Wackersberg, a tiny village at the foot of the Alps south of Munich, was just the place to relax before the wedding. Green pastures, little wooden Heidi houses and cows with bells on.

We stayed at Pension Willibald, a guesthouse in the same style as the wooden houses in the area. All flower pots on the window sills and balconies and animal trophies on the walls. It offered great value; not that there was that much of a choice. The village of Wackersberg is so small that you can walk through it all in 10 minutes. Which means no hotels and no shops; although the closest town of Bad Tolz is only a couple of minutes’ drive away. I guess you can say walking distance if you’re up for a bit of exercise.

On the nights when we didn’t linger at the Altwirt beer garden around the corner enjoying German beer and weiswurst, we cooked up a storm at one of our guesthouse apartments or at the bride-to-be’s little fairy tale house next to the church.

I soaked in the Bavarian way of life, so much so that I bought a dirndl for the wedding. You know, those corset dresses with the white shirt underneath that pushes up your boobs. An apron completes the outfit – no wonder my Capetonian friend Leigh insisted that it looks like a maid’s attire. It was fun shopping for it and of course the first one I picked was all pure silk and cost about as much as a decent wedding dress.

So I chose something more modest and spent the rest of the time on healthy pursuits such as cycling along the Isar from Bad Tolz to Lenggries and riding Iceland ponies at Rosenheim. Slowly my whole life started disappearing – I forgot about my job, my life in Cape Town, all those general fears and worries.

Soon the church bells started ringing and I was all dressed up in my dirndl ready to accompany my beautiful friend to a small chapel in the mountains. For one day, I became Bavarian. It has been a while since I had felt that present.