DAY 15: Food for Thought

There are approximately six thousand South African families living on the island of Cyprus.  A staggering number – most of which chose to leave South Africa due to the escalating crime rate.  The majority of these fellow countrymen opted for a better future, naively hoping that the grass would be greener on the other side.

It pains me to start my working week with a slightly negative tone (after all, my weight reflected another three kilos off my back, and I should be popping the champagne), but I find myself concerned about the future of my island.  With presidential elections looming nearby, the office discussion surrounds itself around three mediocre candidates, and what each one can do for their country.

I have chosen to look at the smaller picture, and focus on my hometown Pafos.  What appealed to me when I first decided to rest my paws here was the diversity of the town, and the fact that almost everyone chose to speak English.  Pafos is a town that can boast a scenic splendour; from the crystal clear waters of the Mediterranean and the mountainous terrain, to the carefree lifestyle and low crime rate, this exceptional beauty remains a hidden gem, and is the envy of all who do not reside there. 

But lately my perception remains distorted. Driving through the town on my way to work, I am overwhelmed by the number of vacant shops, pleading with cries of availability.   I counted thirteen this morning – located on a main street, and what was once considered the hub of Pafos.

I appreciate that Cyprus is an island, and that its main revenue is generated from its flourishing tourism industry (especially in the summer), but what surprised me the most was the fascinating number of kiosks which lined both sides of the road, competing against the other for the same piece of the pie. 

Is it really necessary to have an overabundance of convenience stores, offering the same product?  Where’s the variety?  And who decides what type of store should go where?  Should we blame the economic crisis, or the inexperienced town planning?

Pafos has recently been acknowledged as the “Cultural Capital of Europe 2017” – a wonderful incentive for my hometown.  I firmly believe that the title rightfully belongs to this culturally-enriched municipality, but I am finding it difficult to absorb the reality of empty shops and lack of motivation.

I’ve recently been on about how wonderful my New Year’s Eve experience was in London.  Paging through the Hello magazine, I noticed a wonderful spread of celebrations, and how cities from around the world welcomed the New Year.  There’s a stereotypical list: Australia, China, Hong Kong, Tokyo, London and New York.  How about putting Cyprus on the map?

Instead of competing against Limassol for the carnival, why can’t Pafos host a magical New Year’s Eve “Fireworks Extravaganza” with the astonishing Pafos castle as its backdrop?  All eyes would descend on this magnificent part of the world and give credit to us as a “Cultural Capital.”

And whoever sits behind the desk at the ‘Town Planning’ office, perhaps they should reconsider their job description and do something about the appalling state of the town.  Start off by renovating the old market, and introduce a programme of weekend events – exciting activities to draw the local crowds, similar to Covent Garden.

How about a Winter Wonderland or at least a ‘Christmas Village’ where we can spend an afternoon in the public park, celebrating the excitement of warm soup, salted pretzels and traditional Cypriot honey balls.  One could even imagine a multi-cultural food hall, sampling the diverse tastes from all the communities Pafos has embraced.

And finally, a large centrepiece that greets you upon arrival to this unique part of Cyprus.  As one enters the town, the inexcusable display of poorly-printed signage at the roundabout, could be replaced by a mosaic wall of history – capturing the essence of what Pafos really stands for; a town of beauty, so much that the goddess of love chose to live here.

Perhaps we could also alter the mindset a little.  A coffee shop opening on the corner does not necessarily imply that there should be one directly opposite.   One should consider opening up within a kilometre radius in order to ensure one’s success.  That way, competition is considered fair, and we will not be forced to play dominoes with seventeen kiosks on one street. 

I firmly believe that there is enough business for everyone – we just need to be clever about how we go about it.  But then again, we also need to appoint the right candidate to guide us through the process. 

Are there any leaders out there?

Weight for me tomorrow. Paul

Paul Lambis is the author of “Where is Home?” – A journey of hilarious contrasts.  

For more information on Paul Lambis, and to order his book online, visit www.paul-lambis.com

DAY 14: Sundays

So I’ve finally made it through another knotty week of dieting.  Mixed emotions are forever there, and the temptations at home are flashing before me like a topless girl on a strip pole.  Not quite what I had in mind, but I’m giving it another week before the dieting habit finally kicks in. My wife has just served my son a lip-smacking serving of French toast, and I have kicked back on the couch with my portion of bran and low fat milk.

My mother called me up last night, inviting us to her monstrous Sunday lunch.  Sadly, I declined; I have a pile of emails to answer, and a few design deadlines to meet.  Truthfully, I could not subject myself to another one of my mother’s appetizing luncheons, when I am so far into my diet.

The phone rang again this morning – my mother inquiring if I had reconsidered her invitation: roast chicken, marinated in Portuguese spices, and slowly cooked with a bountiful group of sweet, honey-glazed potatoes.  Rich lemon and rice soup, dotted with succulent meatballs, Greek salad – drenched with creamy balsamic vinegar and complimented with sun-dried tomatoes, and the finale: the ultimate chocolate sponge cake, embraced by a pool of chocolate Ganache.

A sense of uneasiness overpowered me, weighing me down.  I was sweating, and my breathing – thunderous.  For a split second, I was tempted to accept, but luckily Spiritual Guilt intervened.

My wife turned on the television, and a live broadcast from Nicosia’s main cathedral was on the air.  The mesmerising sounds of the Byzantine chant were reminding me to stay focused, conveying a message that spiritual help was always there.  

I found myself staring at a cliché: I was in the middle, joined by two angels positioned on either side of my shoulders.  The dark angel, a dazzling female with large curvaceous wings, was reaching for me in an open embrace; a heap of mouth-watering foods surrounded her.

The other, a peaceful and saintly-looking angel, appealed to me more sympathetically.  She understood my pain.  She was holding onto a photo – a portrait of me – thinner, wiser, and fine-looking.

I turned to her, and she smiled.  The dark angel disappeared into a cloud of smoke, but I was certain that she would return.  Although I was embraced by a warm, comforting feeling, my mind was insistently referring to the food the dark angel had presented to me...

My wife has graciously accepted my mother’s invitation.  She and my son will be joining the family for lunch and I will remain at home, absorbed by my computer.  I am grateful that I have an angel to watch over me, so I will not be tempted to fault in any way.

Unfortunately, the dark angel has reappeared. She’s brought back an army of support.  The Three Tenors have taken a seat behind her, and I am starting to panic.  Hansel and Gretel are screaming in the background; it appears that my Sunday is going to be a challenging one...

Weight for me tomorrow. Paul

Paul Lambis is the author of “Where is Home?” – A journey of hilarious contrasts.  

For more information on Paul Lambis, and to order his book online, visit www.paul-lambis.com

DAY 13: Technology

I’m alive.  I woke up this morning to another great view of Pafos from my bedroom window.  As I stepped outside to admire the attractiveness, I was reminded that winter was still upon us; the frost covered hills were contrasting blissfully against the cool Mediterranean blue, reminding me somehow of the opening scene from The Sound of Music.  Thankfully, my work colleague’s predictions were off the chart and we did not meet the fate of the supposed meteor, heading for Mother Earth.

The weekends are always filled with promise.  It’s ironic that we spend the entire working week, fighting against the alarm clock for that extra minute; yet, when Saturday graces us with its presence, the race against time is almost forgotten. 

My wife and I spent the first part of the morning making plans: breakfast at Costa Coffee, shopping for school shoes, a possible visit to the picturesque harbour, or even a trip to the snow-capped mountains of Cyprus.

But reality entered the room; my son emerged, engrossed within a high-pitched game on his electronic device.  Our chat reverted to a one-sided affair.  Questions were answered with a series of rehearsed “umms” and “aahs,” as he pursued some ‘villain’ on his gadget.   An infuriating and vigorous tapping ensued, as my wife continued the conversation.

For a brief moment, our world was euphoric. In an instant snap, the bubble burst and all that remained was a rebellious teenager who had his own definition of quality time.  An outdoor excursion appeared to be “lame,” yet, an afternoon of sheer sluggishness, justified his “hard week at school.”

I was labelled “embarrassing,” and an outdoor excursion was simply “not the appropriate thing to do with the folks.”

So when did all of this change?   Has the concept of ‘family time’ dissolved?  Back in the 80s, we leaped at the chance of an afternoon outing with my parents.  My father was always at work, so it was considered a rare treat to be accompanied by both mom and dad.  I even recalled challenging my father to a high score on the Pacman machine, and not complaining when my three chances were over. 

“Go on, have another go,” my father would reply, as he reached into his pocket for another coin.  Elated, my sister and I would hover over the arcade game until it was time for a crispy waffle, topped with vanilla ice-cream and thick, golden syrup.

Perhaps we have Technology to blame for this relationship breakdown.  Imagine flaunting a pocket-sized Playstation in front of your peers, back then?  One would probably end up being the most popular person at school. 

But, does this mean we should be more tolerant of our children?  Should we allow this new age of Technology to overpower our quality time?

An acclaimed nutritionist once stated, “Everything in moderation.”  If this is the case, then we shouldn’t have to diet.  We should embrace each day with an open menu, as long as our intake is minimal. 

But are our children prepared to limit their videogame intake?

So, it’s a new day, and a new rule.  Technology will have to take a backseat as the entire family is off to the mountains. 

“Cheer up, my boy.  It’s a two hour drive to the top; enough to listen to Abba’s Greatest Hits, and the entire soundtrack of Dirty Dancing.”

Weight for me tomorrow. Paul

Paul Lambis is the author of “Where is Home?” – A journey of hilarious contrasts.  

For more information on Paul Lambis, and to order his book online, visit www.paul-lambis.com

DAY 12: Predictions

I can recall an innumerable amount of people who spent the last part of 2012, counting down to Armageddon. Admittedly, as much as I tried to disregard the Mayan prophecy, I found myself stocking up with a sufficient supply of frozen foods and soups from Marks and Spencer, ensuring that my family would not starve for at least two months.

I was overwhelmed with the paranoia, finding it difficult to ignore my work colleagues, who were constantly on the warpath to prove the legitimacy of these predictions.

One of these colleagues, a fellow South African, happens to be the ‘guru’ of Google research.  In fact, any ailment, global concern or spiritual theory – my colleague will dedicate a considerable amount of time to reach her own version of truth. 

Today’s item on the agenda happened to be a meteor, which would be scraping past the earth’s atmosphere in the early hours of tomorrow morning. 

Having my own spiritual martyr does have its advantages.  Through my work colleague, I have acquired a wealth of intriguing finds; ‘royals’ are referred to as “blue-blooded” due to the after-effects of colloidal silver found in their cutlery (in the late 1400s), Cyprus is under “chemical attack” after an alleged conspiracy to reduce the island’s population, and that the entire world is under siege by a group of aliens who are attempting to interbreed with humans…

I’ve been looking at my colleague from a different point-of-view. Despite my grocery cupboard at home bursting with enough cans to open my very own soup kitchen, and the fact that I have spent the last twelve days associating her with food, there might be some truth to her madness.

My Google findings have revealed that chemical trails do exist, and that Cyprus has been protesting these “crimes against humanity.”

Henry VIII appeared to have a blue skin tone, due to the colloidal silver emitted from the extensive use of silverware, but what about the aliens?

Could my work colleague be referring to those who have abducted my body, and transformed it into the Starship Enterprise?

I’ve asked my colleague to investigate a quick-fix solution to my problem.  I have always fantasised about a 'DIY Liposuction machine', but there are no such items on the market.  If I had to dwell on the theory that aliens have inhabited my body, this would make absolute sense, and the reason for my delayed weight loss could be that they do not speak my language.

I better ask her to research an online ‘Alien-English’ dictionary.  If we manage to break the boundaries of communication, then I would be able to hit the beaches this summer season.

Until such time, I will continue dieting.  Grilled chicken again, with a side serving of boiled broccoli and lemon-drenched asparagus – great! 

There’s a cupboard at home, over inhabited by tins of soup and a freezer bursting with excitement.  If my work colleague’s theory is correct, then tomorrow could be our last day on earth.  Perhaps I should make it count?

Weight for me tomorrow (or not?). Paul

Paul Lambis is the author of “Where is Home?” – A journey of hilarious contrasts.  

For more information on Paul Lambis, and to order his book online, visit www.paul-lambis.com

DAY 11: Adam and Eve

I’m a firm believer in formulas. In order for one to diet successfully, the entire family needs to support the weight-watcher – every step of the way.  I’m not suggesting that my family reduces their food consumption, or that my son should snack on carob and muesli bars, but at least when my wife summons us to dinner, there should be one suitable meal on the table.

Last night, I sat across my family (in the kitchen) as we rounded up the events for the day.  I enjoy these few uninterrupted minutes where we bring each other up-to-date on what’s happening in our lives.  At some stage during our conversation, and while my wife was multi-tasking – preparing the meal, setting the table and talking simultaneously, I was presented with a grilled chicken kebab and a fresh slice of lemon.  Contentedly, I entered the final round of eating for the day. 

Suddenly, my worst nightmare appeared before me.  In an elegant white platter, a family of fried pork schnitzels entered my world, sizzling in a mature cheddar cheese sauce.  They were humming a mysterious tune: “Eat me… eat me…”

My eyes began to water.  My hands were shaking, and my stomach – growling for a chance to meet this succulent temptation.  ‘Eve’ had finally shaken the apple off the tree, offering ‘Adam’ a bite of her newly presented heaven.

The Three Tenors appeared, singing their high notes.  I was oblivious to Hansel and Gretel’s cries for help.  I wanted a piece of the apple.  I needed to experience this unpredicted pleasure…

My wife has this infuriating habit of closing her eyes while eating.  This does nothing to curb my appetite.  She drifts into a mysterious abyss where every taste bud enjoys a powerful passion with every flavour it encounters.  As she continued to play intimately with her food, I left the kitchen table frustrated and abused.  The scandalous Kardashians were on the television again, but this time they were working to my favour; fifteen minutes into their show, and I had forgotten that something incredible was happening in the next room.

As the evening transpired, I treated myself to the refreshing joy of Greek yoghurt and honey.  ‘Eve’ entered the room with her Scottish biscuits and coffee.  Seated on the couch, I noticed her eyes were closed, as she continued to enliven her palette with warm sips and angelic bites of shortbread.  I felt defeated.

I was sensing uneasiness again.  With one thoughtless move, ‘Eve’ was able to awaken a ‘Pandora’s box’ of emotions.  And even more annoying, was that my wife had the power to unleash The Three Tenors within (even though they had been imprisoned for many years).  Perhaps I’ve underestimated the strength of a woman.

My work colleagues are questioning my cold stance towards them, particularly the females.  Forgive my weariness dear friends, but last night’s events almost brought ‘Adam’ to the brink of disaster. 

After all, I don’t want to add more problems to my plate?

Weight for me tomorrow. Paul

Paul Lambis is the author of “Where is Home?” – A journey of hilarious contrasts.  

For more information on Paul Lambis, and to order his book online, visit www.paul-lambis.com

DAY 10: Flashback

The alarm clock greeted us this morning with its regular maddening chant.  Caught in mid-sleep, we subconsciously reached for the ‘snooze’ button until it reminded us that 'routine' loomed ahead.

What set this morning apart from all the others, were the sounds which emerged from the radio as I fortuitously hit the music station. 

“Forever young, I want to be forever young…”

Songs from the 80s.  As I lay in bed listening to the radio, I drifted into another era – one that stirred up feelings of comfort, joy, reassurance and happiness.  Positive emotions, encouraging me to sing along; I greeted my morning with a contented outlook.   

There were mixed emotions in the Lambis household.  My son was screaming from the other end of the house, ordering me to keep the peace.  My wife pulled the duvet over her head, hoping to absorb any last minute silence before she too, would have to get up and embrace the day.

The songs continued for another twenty minutes.  A melodious blend of Alphaville, Tina Turner, The Bangles and Gloria Gaynor – abruptly transferring me to a quiet place at my childhood home (where I had spent most of my afternoons).  I could hear my mother and grandmother, two generations of incredible women, preparing the evening meal; a beautiful marriage of warm oven-baked bread, drizzled in olive oil and dusted with home-grown oregano. Fried aubergines – lightly salted, a vibrant Greek salad, snow-capped with creamy Feta cheese, and finally, slow-cooked lamb – embraced in a secret blend of rosemary and spices; a cornucopia of colourful flavours. 

My thoughts transferred me to my school in Johannesburg, where the sound of the ringing bell awakened my senses to curry mince rolls and sticky toffee pudding (from the school's cafeteria).  I could taste the warm apple pie, complimented by a round of vanilla ice-cream, when my father treated us to a Sunday afternoon at the local diner.  I was encouraging my mind to recall the taste of my mother’s mouth-watering chicken pie.

I was soaring above the clouds, associating everything to food.  Unfortunately, a bowl of muesli did not look appetizing at all for breakfast, and a protein shake was certainly not going to fill the void.  I reached for two slices of whole wheat bread and cemented them together with a slice of light cheese and turkey.  After a few seconds in the microwave, a heavenly product emerged, sizzling on my taste buds. 

I was forced to shift my calorie intake around for the day.  Lunch became breakfast, and breakfast will become lunch.  Hopefully, it will not make any difference to the daily calorie count, but if it does, it was certainly worth the flashback and all the wonderful memories. 

I miss my grandmother...

Weight for me tomorrow. Paul

Paul Lambis is the author of “Where is Home?” – A journey of hilarious contrasts.  

For more information on Paul Lambis, and to order his book online, visit www.paul-lambis.com

DAY 9: Kings vs Coffee

I kick-started the second week of my diet with a bowl of wheat cornflakes and a generous serving of skimmed milk.  Seated in front of the television and absorbed by my thoughts, a flashing stream of letters (moving across the screen) caught my attention: “Richard III’s skeleton found in London parking lot.”

Intrigued, I raised the volume with my remote and continued to follow the story.  After 500 years, the remains of England’s last Plantagenet king were finally unearthed.  Simultaneously on another channel, scientists were confirming that green coffee bean extract was the solution to any dieter’s curse.  Seated in my living room, I found myself at a crossroad between History and Science.

Needless to say, I gave King Richard the time off (not that he needed it), and followed the story of the coffee bean.

What has the media and the scientific community so excited about the green coffee bean extract is that people don’t have to do anything different when taking this food supplement; no need for exercise – they don’t even have to follow a strict diet, yet they appear to lose a considerable amount of weight.

I’ve decided to spend most of my afternoon researching the product.  If it’s possible to unearth and confirm (through DNA) the remains of a lost English king, then surely science could develop a magic potion that can transform my anomalous body into a work of art?

And, there’s another incentive: Green coffee bean extract has become one of the most searched products online. It's mostly available in pill form, but Starbucks has added it as part of a new line of low-calorie drinks, which are being promoted as a “boost of natural energy.”

Guess where I’m going?

Weight for me tomorrow. Paul

Paul Lambis is the author of “Where is Home?” – A journey of hilarious contrasts.  

For more information on Paul Lambis, and to order his book online, visit www.paul-lambis.com