The first time I encountered this type of candy was at the annual marketplace every June in the small town where I grew up. I always begged my parents to buy "at least a little." As an adult I found the recipe and now my children are begging me to make "homemade fudge," especially for Christmas. Funny how things turn out.

They are actually pretty simple to make. Here is the recipe:

6,5 dl wheat flour
4 dl icing sugar
1 dl cocoa powder
6 dl sugar
125 g coconut oil
1,5 dl water

Mix flour, icing sugar and cocoa powder in a big bowl. Boil water, coconut oil and sugar until the sugar has melted. Mix it slowly (while stirring) with the rest of the ingredients and then spread it out in an approximately 30x20 cm pan. Let it cool and then cut it into pieces (approximately 250 of them). Store in a cool place.

I'm not entirely sure what the difference is between clementines, satsumas, mandarines or whatever, but I do know that I absolutely love these from Maroc. I suppose it's partly due to the fact that they arrive in the stores at the same time as we all begin to prepare for Christmas, and partly because they indeed taste — and smell — so good.

I received these amazing begonias last weekend, and I just wanted to share. The shape of the flowers are almost rose-like and the colour is an amazingly rich, deep red, which the camera is unable to do justice to. Amidst the white and cream of my apartment they shine. Thanks, Sus!

I made a fake fur throw for our bed yesterday... soft, dark brown, and warm. It works so well against the white and cream that is the default look of our bed, and it is also a really good extra blanket when it's windy and cold outside.

A week ago, my boyfriend's grandmother moved from a bigger apartment to a smaller one. She's almost 84 years old, still pretty healthy, but wants to scale down a bit which means getting rid of many things she doesn't want to keep in her life.

Somehow it feels a bit sad the whole thing... It's clearly a time of transition, and as such there is always some letting go, but it's also a new beginning. When she had decided on what to keep for herself, she told the family to take whatever they wanted and then get rid of the rest, so on Sunday it was time to do exactly that. Precious belongings changing hands. So many beautiful things. Everyone had the opportunity to take a few things they might remember from their childhood or things they might actually need or genuinely like. Myself, I became the happy and grateful recipient of some wonderful old illustrated flower and animal books, some very useful kitchen things, and a stack of beautiful linen table cloths that had been in the family for ages. T. and I were thrilled and will think very fondly of his grandmother when we deck the table for dinners in the future.

Since we're about to move out I thought I should post some images of the apartment where we now live. I fell for the two French balconies (one in the bedroom and one in the living room) the first time I saw this flat and I think they were the main reason why I chose it. That, and the view of the sea when I lean out slightly. :)

Anyway... It's time to say goodbye to this place now and I'd like to do it with photos taken before the place is cluttered by boxes and other signs of moving. In many ways I've liked it here.

After finishing Rabih Alameddine's The Hakawati (which I loved), I was looking for something else to read and decided to bring Salman Rushdie's Shalimar the Clown with me on my journey. I began to read it on the flight home on Thursday and, while trying to rest myself well from a persistent cold, I finished it today. As always when it comes to Rushdie, there is a myriad of characters, innumerable events that trigger chains woven together as by fate, various places from all over the world and very strong emotions.

The starcrossed Kashmiri lovers, the hindu dancer Boonyi and the muslim tightrope artist Shalimar the clown, are in the forefront against the backdrop of the raw Kashmir conflict where neighbours are turned against neighbours. The situation is complicated further when Boonyi decides find means to escape the remote village and her marriage to Shalimar the clown. She seizes the opportunity when the American ambassador is spellbound by her beauty and her dance. Ambassador Max Ophuls, a man with his own stories of courage, resistance, betrayal and loss, wants the best for his newfound love and helps her to dance lessons and schooling, but he also involves himself politically in her native Kashmir. Nevertheless, he is ultimately forced to realise that the two of them simply have been using each other. In the very public wake of their secret liason Boonyi is forced to go back in shame to her village, whereas the fruit of their union, their daughter India/Kashmira, grows up not knowing anything about her past and she does not learn the true story until both her parents are dead and she, herself, is in mortal danger.

What will stay with me is Rushdie's portrait of the Kashmiri conflict, the depiction of the fertile soil for terrorism and the training camps for terrorist, as well as characters affected by it all. I really liked it.

Background image from Jesscail.com.

Late last night I got back from a week away. Today was filled with meetings, e-mails and phone calls, and I'm sure tomorrow will be pretty much the same. Then on Wednesday I'll be flying out early in the morning to hold a lecture at another university, which will be followed by a workshop on Thursday. Then I fly back home again, landing at approximately 10.30 pm. So I guess there won't be that much outside work — and subsequently not much to blog about — in the next few days. I'll try not to go nuts... :)