This is a procrastination post.
I love this blog for that.
I procrastinate but still feel virtuous.
Scroll down if you wanna jump to the foodie recommendations.
I was down in ChCh having a 3 sister moment with Z & T.
There was a pocket sized restaurant guide of sorts on Z’s kitchen bench.
T was given the job (after i gave up before even starting) on finding us a cafe to lunch in.
I did however visit eat here now in hope, my usual GO TO for food ventures, but alas their site was, like our beloved Christchurch, under construction.
Francesca’s Italian Kitchen was the ‘order’ – thank you very much T.
I reflected in this moment – i had arrived at an all time fantasy.
One where (i as an full blown adult) was lunching with my sisters.
Except the fantasy was different to the real.
In my fantasy we were all dressed up and make-up-uped to the nines and there was a sense of sophistication, and almost celebrity-ness about my 20 year old self’s fantasy, of this luncheon.
In my ‘moving picture’ we were in an Art Gallery like white, with beautiful clear lighting, high ceilings, sunshine streaming into the polished Scandinavian wooden floors, restaurant. There was space around each of the tables and chairs, yet the other diners all felt noticed and all felt connected.
There was red lipstick. There were clean fresh (probably new) pressed clothes. There were high heeled stylish ankle boots. There was perfume. There was hair looking like we’d stepped off a film set.
There was confidence and a sense that we belonged in this world of ‘i’ve got this’.
All of it felt powerful, clear, like we all had our shit sorted and not a care in the world.
That 20 year old fantasised that one day she would feel like she’d made it, had arrived at some version of economic, well-groomed, organised and cool-collected, success. I guess for that 20 year old those things were unreachable and therefore something to aspire to or something to propel towards. That 20 year old dreamed of an easy glamourous-ness about her and her life, and those around her.
I laughed as we crossed a metal Wilson Carpark, beneath a construction site to Francesca’s Italian Kitchen. Me dressed in my Mother’s stylish hand-me-downs ever-so-slightly-torn-in-places-by-impatient-or-nervous-children’s-fingertips, not a whisper of make-up and i don’t recall brushing my hair that morning before a 6am flight, but i did however have one my trusty nearly 20 year old much adored Karen Walker polka dot black woollen trenchcoat.
I confessed this fantasy to my siblings.
I marvelled at how we grow.
For that woman no longer lives in my fantasy.
Or that fantasy no longer lives in my woman.
Maybe a mixture of wanting new ways of feeling and understanding that with glamour comes the shadow of glamour, not only the light.
A new fantasy sits in its place.
Being with my family.
Actually being here and laughing, cajoling, tasting, going slow with my sisters.
And then today, the procrastinating place.
I’m s’posed to be filling our funding applications and contacting teachers for little YOGA festival 2017 and instead i jumped on facebook and read Greta’s post looking for Christchurch recommendations for lunch and dinner spots in the city.
A blog post about one woman’s 20 years.
A blog post about where to eat in Christchurch.
Here is where a friend’s friends’ suggest you go for food in Christchurch
Cafes in Christchurch:
The Monday room
Gentle Giant Cafe
Johnny Sausage Cafe & Pizza Joint
Park Ranger (in Riccarton, really cool place!)
Restaurants in Christchurch:
King of Snake
Francesca’s Italian Kitchen – Christchurch
Pot Sticker Dumpling Bar
The Monday Room
The bicycle thief
Black Estate Vineyard (if you want a bit of a drive)
And finally from the last friend: There’s an alleyway somewhere that has a selection of good restaurants and B and I had a great whiskey sour there! Ask a local, cannot remember.
I hope fantasy comes to light (and shadow) for you this week.
Go well, Eat well, Be well
Emily from wild & grace