“This fragment, which is part of the eastern frieze of the Parthenon, depicts a foot and a part of the peplos (dress) of Artemis, and was acquired in 1816, by the British consul in Sicily, Robert Fagan…the fragment is now displayed in a glass case [on the top floor of the Acropolis Museum], within its place in the reconstruction and also to the actual historical site.”

Over eons, Scotland was situated at the intersection of colliding continents, creating an unrivalled geological diversity that is reflected in the stone of our buildings. Before the advent of transport links, materials were sourced locally, giving rise to regional variations that are very much a part of today’s landscape…Stone-built buildings were substantial and able to withstand the test of time, leaving us a rich, architectural heritage.

My mom and dad emigrated from The Philippines to the United States in the late 1960s to work as as chemists/researchers at the University of California, San Diego. A few years later, I was born in La Jolla, California. I’ve been fortunate to travel to my parents’ native land with them three times, and on our last visit, we were treated to a cultural experience that had a deep impact on me. Re-watching a video of the event recently has brought up some strong memories and feelings about my ethnic patrimony.

Let me share with you how the world was created according to the Basques, and then you will understand why Amalur needs the Joaldunaks. Like other ancient beliefs, you will find different versions all around the Basque Country—and all of them are true! Foolish people who don't believe in them, call them legends.

Margaret Reid Farmer, my Granny,  was born on 26 October 1875 in Lochee, Dundee. Her mother registered the birth and “signed” with an “X” her mark. 

The moment I set a foot in that magical place, I realized what she meant. I was Basque, I was home. That smoky smell, the music, the long family-style tables, the Pelota Fronton (pelota court), the wrinkled faces of those old men playing cards (mus, a Basque card game, to be exact) reminded me of my grandpa. It didn't just look like home, it felt like home, it was home. I still get goosebumps when I think about it.

There’s something so evocative to me about pictures of food and the power they have to vividly remind me of mouth-watering meals and moments that I’ve had on my travels.  I can look at my culinary photos and remember exactly where I was, the scent of the dish just placed in front of me, and the way the flavors open up on my pallet. 

Having lived 25 wonderful years in France, but born in Denmark, there's still one thing missing from my birth country, and that is the rye bread. The tasty rye bread is dense, like the image of brooding Scandinavians. It is dark, like the Danish-produced televison crime shows.