It’s all in the details

In photography, sharpness, precision and depth are the rule of the thumb. Or at least, are supposed to be (Some of of my buddies will even factor in wind velocity before clicking). Then there are others who prefer the more artistic side of life, and will go for the hazy, dreamy look. Believe it or not, this blog entry has nothing to do with photography, but with the details. Because that is the one thing every photographer in the world agrees on – regardless of how razor sharp or blurry your image is, there is one focal point, the core of composition that transforms the image into a photograph, the moment into a memory.

©FrogDiva Photography

In the same manner, when it comes to the quality of life or comforts of my existence, the details are what spell all the difference between going sane and insane. Sometimes it was the tiniest detail that kept me from going over the edge, or the one detail that did indeed do me in.

As I came out of therapy the other night, I passed my new favourite little Turkish supermarket, which happens to be right next door to the clinic. They are new to the neighbourhood and are still struggling a bit to establish themselves among the bigger and older shops. I found them quite by accident because they had a special offer on lemons that I just couldn’t resist, and they were far cheaper than the fancy organic shop across the street. The ginger too was of acceptable asian sizes, and not usual ridiculous small portion in the German supermarkets that will cost an arm and a leg. The owner is also the cashier and is always cheerful, reminding me very much of my C-Block shopkeeper in Vasant Vihar (New Delhi). Short, chubby and very moonfaced, this lovely man goes around his shop several times to make sure that every can and jar is in place, no dust is visible, and that everything the children might have pulled out previously is put back properly and neetly.

I love the aroma of the the familiar spices, the dried dates and apricots, and the general feeling of being outside of Germany even just for a few minutes. It is incredibly comforting and familiar, especially when I look at at lot of the items and don’t consider them exotic or strange. I went in, searching for vegetables but without any real plan in mind, but decided to have a look around the other things as well. The good man approached me and asked whether he could help me find anything, to which I replied “Yes, if only I knew what I wanted!” He looked at me and smiled “Ah, that I cannot help you with, and you have to figure out on your own.” Ouch.

In the end, I walked away with zucchini, aubergine, lemons, ginger, and corned beef. Yes, corned beef. This is one of the little details that delights me about this shop. Ask any Filipino around the world, and they will have some sort of childhood memory of corned beef with steaming hot rice or fresh pandesal, and after the session I had just had, I was desperate for some major comfort food. Normally I lean towards the Argentinian corned beef as an acceptable substitute for the corned beef you get at the butcher or make at home (too much trouble to go through for one person). The Turkish version, however, is not bad.

Details, darlings, details!

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