29 June 2006
cinnamonfoam
Today is our last day in Prague and we had no commitments or obligations, so we have made the most of it. We slept in, a wonderful, wonderful thing to do even when you're travelling, and even though the three of us are starting to nip at each other's ankles over petty arguments and bickerings, we managed to eat breakfast, get dressed, pack, clean up the room, and leave the hotel by 11:30am. We took the metro to Stare Mesto, Prague's "Old Town" which is a very popular tourist visit and the only main area of Prague that we had not yet seen. It was full of tourists and we slowly shuffled our way around, onto the famous Charles Bridge and then in and out of Stare Mesto's quaint, narrow streets, with cobblestone roads and curlycue, pastel-painted Baroque buildings. We had lunch at a tourist cafe complete with sulky waiter, but the food was pretty good, and instead of going for the overpriced, frozen desserts we indulged in Haagen-Dasz ice cream across the street from two friendly girls behind the counter. We wandered into Staromestskenam Square, one of Prague's famous squares, surrounded by three ancient churches, grandiose hotels and dozens of shops. Tourists are everywhere in this area of Prague, tour groups of Asians with cameras and headsets huddling in the center of the street, fashionista American teenagers in leggings and short skirts, many German couples and random other countries represented in the crowds. It is nice that unlike Florence, there is a diverse group of tourists here just like the diverse inhabitants of the city, and I hear foreign tongues just as much as I hear English. I'm glad we came here on our last day, after breathing and seeing and living in real-life Prague first. Stare Mesto is the overpriced, Disney version of Prague; the tourists lap it up, but I prefer seeing the city in which people live, not just dress up for. We wandered through Prague's only market which fills up a long street, and on the left side vendors have stalls with wooden toys, candy, hand-painted eggs, beaded necklaces, junk for foreigners to buy. I did get an interesting "souvenir", my only purchase in Europe: a bunch of brightly-colored wooden tulips in a thin wooden vase. On the right-side of the market was stall upon stall of fruits and vegetables, where Praguers (?) filled their arms with produce. It would be an interesting photo from above: the throngs of tourists on the left and the Czechs on the right. Then we made our way into the Museum of Communism, a fascinating museum about communism in Czechoslovakia from the 1940s-1989. It was small and personal, with informative posters, lots of enlarged photographs and many artefacts from the era. Also, Hannah knew nothing about communism or Lenin or the Soviet Union before the museum and it was a great introduction to the political history of Eastern Europe for her. It was cool too because many of the photos and the film showed protests in large squares in Prague, and afterwards we walked to Wencenslas Square, one of the largest squares in the world and the location of many historic events in Prague's history. Finally, we took the tram to the Globe, a cozy English bookstore-cafe-restaurant where I am now. It's been a great visit to Prague and like Andrea said, I think we had a good balance between really seeing the city and being a tourist, as we've done in Florence and Paris too. I'm quite proud of our traveling skills! Goodbye Prague.
28 June 2006
revolution
Prague is so cool. It's definitely on the upswing of a revival; it has an unpretentious bohemian culture, is pulsing with youth, is a melting pot of cultures and language... Prague is THE place to be. It wasn't until communism ended here in 1989 that Prague started to develop into a global, destination city and after 16 years it is really starting to jump. It isn't perfect or completely quaint or hi-tech, it's everything. There are cute, Disney-esque neighborhoods and more gritty areas. There is the traditional culture that is entrenched in places, and then a whole new teahouse/cafe culture as well as an Asian thing, Middle Eastern thing, French thing... it's crazy. I love it. It would be much more fun, however, if I was here with friends instead of family.
Last night we took the metro home at 11pm... I was a little worried that it might be deserted except for bums and thieves, but it was packed, mostly with groups of twentysomethings, lovers, people out on the town. My stereotypes of Prague and the Czech Republic have turned out to be wrong, which I'm happy about. It is so nice to stumble into a quiet, pretty apartment building after a long day. I can't wait until I have my own flat (and I love that word too). This morning we went on a tour of Terezin, a concentration camp during World War II. It was only us three, this weird Irish man and a super hyper excited female Czech tour guide. Cool isn't the right word to describe it but it was humbling and very interesting. It's an hour's drive north of Prague, so I was able to tune out the crazy tour guide with my iPod for two hours. Then I think we went back to the hotel and had a siesta, which is a really good idea. We had dinner at a bar restaurant literally across the street from us, and then took the tram all over western Prague in vain trying to find an internet cafe. The one we wanted to go to was closed, and then the next one was closed, and just as we gave up and were walking home, we saw a youth hostel with some computers, full of young people. So we're here.
As much as I love my mom and being able to go on this trip, there are times when being with your mother all the time gets frustrating, especially in Prague. I wish I could be with an older Hannah, go to a fun bar, hang out with kids my age, be a college student in an amazing city, stay out late, meet people... but because Hannah is only 14 and our mother is with us, we don't hang out with college students, we sit together alone, pay the bill and leave at a decent hour when my mom is tired. There are lots of backpackers and groups of college kids here for a stop in the summer, wandering around during the day and partying at night and being able to legally drink makes Europe such a fun, chill place to be. So sometimes my mom is like a third leg. As I write this there are about fifteen people hanging out in the lobby behind me, chatting and drinking and having fun, and I will leave here in twenty minutes and go back to a silent hotel room and read until I fall asleep. So to all my college-age friends: whenever you want to go to Europe, tell me and we'll go together. And Eastern Europe is also unbelievably cheap against the dollar (except for accommodation). I'm coming here again.
Czech guys are smoking. This guy on the tram tonight was standing in front of me (I was sitting down) and his ass was a few feet in front of me and it was gorgeous. Jeans, a t-shirt, black leather shoes... I could feel him looking at me but when I finally looked at him he was looking out the window and not at me, so I thought I was wrong and he was never really looking at me. Only when I get off the tram does my mom tell me he was staring at me and after I didn't look at him, he gave up. So hot! There is a disproportionate amount of hot guys to hot girls here too. The girls in general aren't that pretty, and some of their clothing choices are questionable. But the guys... as Danielle would say, break me off a piece of that!
Tomorrow is our last day here, and then tomorrow night we trek (figuratively) westward across Europe again. Only a few more days left before we go back to the US... I don't know exactly how I feel about this. Actually, I do... I'm sad. I love Europe, it's definitely my place.
27 June 2006
praha
The last eastern stop on our magnificent journey is Prague, Czech Republic, and we are here! Prague (Praha to the Czechs) is crazy; it's the most different place that we've visited. Czech is like an alien language and you have no idea what anything even remotely means... at least German and Italian and French share commonalities. Luckily everyone here speaks English and most menus are translated, so you don't accidentally order cow's tongue with pickled onions.
Germany was fantastic. We were only there for about eight hours but it struck a chord in me. First, we took a bus tour of Munich (sitting on the top, of course) which was nice because it both orientated us and acted as a brief history of Munich and Germany. Munich is the 3rd-largest city in Germany and it really is quite large... but 80% was bombed during World War II and it was rebuilt, so much of it looks quite new. It also is very clean and green and hi-tech... my kind of place! While Prague is and Florence was FULL of graffiti, there was hardly any in Munich. The tour passed the famous buildings, the government seats, the river... it was good. Then, back at the train station area, we walked down Merien Platt, a long, wide pedestrian street lined with shops and cafes (which we had walked down at 7:30am trying to find an open cafe when it was completely dead) with the goals of drinking good German beer and eating lunch. At 11:30am it was packed with people, some tourists but many Germans too, and our intent was to get to the food area at the end of the street. Stalls were set up displaying fresh fruit and vegetables, bottled olive oil and fresh honey, fish, juice smoothies, and some random homemade crafts. In the center of the food stall madness, nestled under trees, there was a huge beirgarten (beer garden!) with picnic tables full of happy people. We decided to drink some beer first, and then wander around for food. I got half a liter of traditional German beer (I have the coaster in my suitcase so I'll bust out the full name later) which was my first beer since arriving in Europe. It was dark but quite sweet; very good and I drank almost the whole thing (over like an hour). Still, half a liter is a lot of liquid! Beer is my least favorite alcohol though; it's too bubbly and airy and leaves me feeling sort of bloated. But anyway, it's something you have to drink when in Germany. There was nary an unoccupied table in sight, so we sat next to an Austrian couple on vacation. They spoke little English but my mom - she is just amazing pulling dusty thirty-years-old knowledge of languages out of her head - knows enough German to communicate. So we had (she had) a fun chat with them about beer, football (soccer), Austria, the US... and we nibbled on a few pretzels to absorb the beer. Other than pretzels, the menu was traditional German fare - bratwursts, sourkraut, onion rings, so we decided to skip the food and get it later somewhere else. Oh, and our "waitress" was an older woman dressed up in the traditional costume from a hundred years ago... with the low square neckline, peasant shirt, the whole deal. I tried to indiscreetly take a picture of her but she is looking right at the camera; it's still a great shot though. Eventually we wandered around the food stands and settled on fish. For 8 euros mine was really good... grilled breaded fish with potatoes. Hannah had fish and chips with an emphasis on the chips. The weather in Germany was much better than in Italy. It was basically perfect summer weather... warm but not scorching, breezy, wonderful. The Germans are not as beautiful as the Italians or French as a whole, but there are still very pretty girls and handsome men. It's actually nice because they are more normal than Parisians or Florentines. Yes, there are some gorgeous people but there are also regular people too. We wandered back to the train station, stopping to check out H&M and Galeria (a German department store). While I don't like clothes shopping and wasn't planning on getting any clothes, I found a cute top in H&M and awesomely-priced Birkenstocks in the Galeria! Germany is the place to buy shoes, people. Actually I got two pairs of shoes; one pair is a leather thong sandal (not made by Birkenstock) and the other is the Birkenstock clog (closed-toed, open-heeled). And together they cost only 60 euros... 75 dollars! Finally, we were back at the train station and boarded our train to Prague. I thought that considering we were only in Munich for eight hours we had a great condensed visit. And the train left on time at 4:45pm; good Germans.
At the beginning three men sat in our little carriage with us, making it pretty uncomfortable because it was so hot and because the three of us didn't really want to talk to each other in front of them. One of the men kept staring at Hannah and my mom who were opposite him which was really weird too. Thankfully, they all got off at the first three stops (little towns outside of Munich) and for the last 5 hours of the 6 hour journey we had the carriage to ourselves. We rolled into Prague at 11pm, and although I feared that either a) our taxi driver would abduct us or b) we would get mugged on the metro or c) we wouldn't be able to pay in euros and have to travel around for hours trying to exchange them for Czech crowns or d) our accomodation didn't get my mom's email that we were going to be late so they gave up our room... it all worked fine and we were dropped off at our hotel at 11:15. It's actually not a hotel, more like a modest hotel, but our room is large, clean, with its own bathroom and the beds are great which is all that matters. After each taking showers in our strange little bath-tub-with-a-shower-handle contraption, we collapsed into bed and slept until 9am, when we got up for breakfast. I love that muesli/cereal is popular in Eastern Europe, because I had granola with yogurt and it was awesome! At 11am our tour guide met us at the hotel and we took the tram (I love trams! and metros!) to the Prague Castle, and wandered around its various buildings with her for a few hours. Then, famished, we flocked to her recommended pub across the street and we each ordered the vegetarian quiche. My mom and Hannah have both been widely vegetarian on this trip for whatever reason, but it's nice to have some vegetarian company. The food was ok... nothing to rave about. Then we took the tram back to our hotel, and had a long siesta until 7pm, when we went out in the pouring rain to a vegetarian restaurant that was recommended in our guidebook. It was so. good. I had an all vegan meal, but they had some dishes with cheese and also with fish. I took pictures of it all. The restaurant was pretty sophisticated too... not like the place Ali and I went to in Tempe a few times. It was mostly wooden, fresh, with candles and things. We were basically the only ones there on a Tuesday night, and one of the two waiters was so hot (a guy). I took a secret picture of him too. He was a complete hippie with dreads, but he had the cutest smile and even though he couldn't speak much English... it didn't matter. Hannah agrees with me. Now we're here, and I'm being dragged away to the hotel by my tired mother. I'll hopefully have a better, more Prague-focused update soon!
26 June 2006
gutentag
Despite the fact that Germany is exalted for its efficiency, technology and precision, our train from Florence to Munich was fifteen minutes late arriving into Munich's central station, so we missed our connecting train to Mystery City C. I'm completely fine with this, though, because I've always wanted to go to Germany and now we are here, on an "extended layover", we'll call it, until the next train this afternoon.
Last night we returned to the convent to rest and refresh ourselves, and then we slugged on our backpacks and rolled our little suitcases down the street to Trattoria Gigi, one of the two restaurants open on Sunday night. We got there at 6:50pm so we sat outside, mildly sweating, until they opened at 7pm. We were the only people there for a while until two parties of Americans were seated in our room. Thankfully they weren't exceptionally loud but they did look somewhat uncomfortable. They didn't even attempt to order in Italian ("I'll have the spahgetee with claaam sawse") they couldn't figure out how to eat the forementioned spaghetti without a spoon or understand why a salad would come out with the main meal instead of before it, and one of the girls was bowled over by the fact that there is a 10-hour time difference between Italy and wherever she lives. In general, I hate looking like an American so I try to avoid typical American behavior. I dress well, except on travel days I carry a shoulder bag instead of a big backpack, I keep my voice at a normal pitch, and I speak as much as I can in the native language (it's amazing how much this is appreciated by locals, even just attempting to say hello, thank you, etc). It helps to have a mother with an English accent too. The family appeared to be fascinated with us, for some reason. When we left, suitcases and all, everyone was silent and watched us walk through the room. Awkward! But dinner was wonderful, as always. We caught the last D bus to Firenze's central station and while my mom booked couchettes for our next sleeper train, Hannah and I sat on the ground against a pillar and almost every single man stared at us as they walked by. We weren't looking especially cute or anything, either. It was really odd. With ten minutes to go, we jumped onto our train and found our couchette. The beds were already set up, which was a little weird because it was only 10pm and we all wanted to just sit in chairs like normal people for a while before going to sleep. There were 6 beds, three on each wall, and a youngish guy was already lying on one of the middle beds. I think he was an American college student going to school in Munich. (He looked eerily like Tyler too: mannerisms, clothes, voice... everything. And thanks to Tyler endlessly saying "Dankeschon" (and Scheisse) when I was at CC, I at least know how to say "thank you" in German... and "shit" as well!) It's amazing how nonchalant riding on the train is. It's not like the airport where the whole process is a hullaballoo with the harried dropoff, check-in, going through the "security checkpoint" and taking off half your clothes in the process, walking several miles to the gate, and waiting... and then the whole ordeal of lining up to get seated and settled and its hot and there's no more overhead bin space and the man in front of you is already completely reclined and by the end you take a huge breath and sigh loudly so everyone hears you and hope you didn't leave anything at home by accident. At the train station you just walk in, find your platform, and walk down the platform to your specified carriage, put the luggage under the seat and happily sit down. And then the train just pulls away from the station quietly. It's very nice and unstressful. The rest of the night was pretty low-key; I read more of my book, listened to music, and two more passengers joined us at a middle stop. We turned off the lights when everyone was in their beds and I kind of slept on-and-off. I did get up, go to the hallway, roll down a window (it went half-way down! The Italian train's windows went down like two inches) and stuck my head out the window. Trains go so fast! Very cool. And in the early morning I peeked out between the curtains several times while we were going through Austria and saw chateaus nestled in the gorgeous Alps. We arrived at 6:50am, just after our next train had left the station, so we walked around for a while in sleepy Munich. My mom kept saying there would be cafes up ahead in a beautiful square, but she was wrong... so we turned around, starving, and entered the first decent-looking, open cafe we saw. It was honestly the best breakfast I've ever had... muesli with fresh fruit and plain yogurt (for some reason I can handle yogurt), a hearty whole-wheat roll with jam and honey, fresh orange juice and coffee with steamed milk. Food tastes so much better when you're actually quite hungry instead of just eating on a schedule every few hours. I don't know what we're going to do for the next eight hours but whatever, we're in Germany!
25 June 2006
arrivederci
Yesterday was super. Or ended up being super. We woke up at 8, procrastinated the act of getting up until 8:50, ran into the breakfast room at 9 just before it closed, and then I attempted to eat muesli (unsweetened granola) with actual milk. Of course nuns don't have soy milk. No one in Italy has soy milk. Of course, I poured the hot milk on it by accident, so it was like warm milky muesli. Yuck. The other option was a long, hard bread roll that I'd had the morning before. No grazie. Then we got dressed (I must say I looked cute in a dark t-shirt and white skirt with flip flops) and went into town. First we went to the Mercato Centrale, which is a huge indoor food market. We bought bread, cheese, fruit and olives for another picnic lunch which we ate in the shade on a bench. Have I mentioned it is absolutely boiling here? It's been around 100 degrees with 25% humidity for the last few days and it is not much fun. The locals hide indoors but the tourists are here and we need things to do, so the museums and cafes are brimming with people trying to escape the heat and make their trip worthwhile. After lunch we went to a different internet cafe to kill some time before meeting with our private tour guide. It was nicer than the one I'm in now (leather chairs, Italian MTV, air conditioning) and cheaper too. While enjoying being hermits we killed almost too much time, and at 1:45 we jumped out into the street and practically ran to the Santa Croce church to meet Jannes ("yan") for a three-hour tour of whatever we wanted to look at. He's Dutch so he spoke with an interesting accent but he was so fun and knew Florence like the back of his hand. We ended up going to the Santa Croce church, the Duomo, the chapel of Dante, the San Marco church, and the Accademia in four hours. I won't say much about them because I took pictures which will be more appealing, but I will say I can't imagine the work that goes into building churches, Italy has a lot of stupid rules about tickets and lines and things, and that the chapel of Dante was hidden away on a little side street next to a bar. You'd never know to look inside its little wooden door unless someone told you... and it is Dante's actual burial place. Oh, and on the way to San Marco he scuttled us into an unassuming entryway and we ended up in the mansion of the Borghese family, one of the richest families in Florence in the 18th century. It's now used for balls and conferences and things, and it has the most beautiful rooms with chandeliers and paintings and enormous mirrors. The three of us just followed him in like ducklings and we stood by a door watching a luncheon go on with people all dressed up sitting at dinner tables. Jannes is completely hooked up; he met one of the guys there and slipped him a few euros to take us to one of the ballrooms. It was insane. Then we sweated our way over to San Marco because my mom really wanted to see the Fra Angelico frescos which were amazing. And finally, we thought we were done but Jannes was determined to get us into the Accademia. It is where Michelangelo's David is and you need reservations to get in. We had a reservation for Thursday morning but our train was so late that we missed them, and when Jannes heard this, he said, "I'm not promising anything... but let me see what I can do". A large group was slowly funneling into the ticket office and following Jannes, we sidled along with them, were let through the metal detector because Jannes said so, and got in! It was crazy. Seriously, at least in Florence, tour guides can get you into things most people can't. It's like knowing someone in the Mafia. So we got to see David, who is absolutely beautiful. Michelangelo perfected him down to the veins in his forearms. It really is a masterpiece. Finally, after whirling around Florence for four hours we all were about to pass out, so we said goodbye to Jannes and got drinks at a cafe. I had a glass of Prosecco, a sparkling Italian wine, which was very refreshing... and then we made our way over to a restaurant for dinner. Then we retired to the convent and read for a while, until one by one we curled up in bed. Our room is pretty warm, so we have a fan on all the time and only open the windows after the lights are all out, or else mosquitos and things come in and bite us. As to my booklist... between Julia and Andrea I brought eight books along with one more from the library. I've finished Running With Scissors and I'm over half-way through A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius. It's so good. He writes about the things all of us do and think and wish but simply can't translate into words. I'm somewhat surprised I haven't been reading more considering the long plane journey and train rides, but I guess I also have a supercool book of Logic Puzzles, an iPod, and my sister and mom... a lot of choice for the hours of traveling.
Today we made it to breakfast just in time, and I had dry muesli which was pretty dusty. The coffee they have, however, makes up for the crappy breakfast. We had a lazy morning and left the convent around noon (I must say that I again look cute today in a chocolate-colored v-neck and purple skirt), taking two buses all the way uptown to the Museo Stibbert. Stibbert was a crazy, eccentric man who lived during the 1800s and because he was very rich and lonely and weird, he collected things like full armor suits from the medieval era, and costumes and fine bone china and tapestries, and then made half of his gigantic mansion into a museum. It was something different to do and we were the only visitors, so it was quiet and spooky and fun. It did suck that his house is at the top of a hill, which we had to walk up from the bottom of the bus stop. Thankfully there was a bar where the three of us each had a white chocolate Magnum bar and a cold soda. You know that I'm desperate when I choose to drink a soda but really, whenever you go outside for more than a few minutes, a thin layer of sweat appears on your face and your clothes get sticky and you just want to jump into a swimming pool. Riding the bus today has been a sweaty affair as well, especially when it gets crowded and you have to stand up. So the Stibbert museum was full of interesting junk, but it was cool and different, and afterwards we walked back down to the bus stop via his beautiful gardens. Really, if you moved all the crap to different museums, gave the rooms a good spring cleaning and introduced some light into the place, it was be a sweet luxury hotel. We had been warned that because it's Sunday and we're in far north Firenze, the bus would come only every two hours, we sat in the shade on the other side of the street and caught the bus about fifteen minutes after descending the long hill. We changed buses at the central station and collapsed at a cafe opposite the Pitti Palace for another drink (water, no alcohol yet!) and now we're here. Tonight we leave Firenze and it's the perfect time to go, now that we've had a few great days and before it gets any hotter. It'd be great if this time the trains aren't late...
On a side note, I don't feel like I'm in Italy. It's the first time I've been here and it's not what I had imagined it to be, unlike Paris which I have been to before. But I just don't feel like I'm in a country shaped like a shoe! Florence is a small, beautiful, ancient city that has lots of tourists, great food, and some of the most famous art in the world. I'd really like to visit Rome and Venice, and if we did an Italy trip, perhaps Naples and Sicily as well. Maybe next time.
23 June 2006
notas
Some notes about Firenze.
22 June 2006
buongiorno
A few last notes about Paris before I forget! Our room was in the heart of gay Paris. At every cafe down the street there were beautiful gay men sitting with their lover(s) enjoying themselves. Considering we were only in Paris for 48 hours, we covered a lot of ground by foot and even after seeing a lot of Paris, the area where we were staying was still my favorite neighborhood if I could live anywhere. On the second day we walked to the Musee Picasso, which was fascinating. It had a lot of his lesser-known works that were seized by the government for unpaid debts after he died. The museum is in an unpretentious, gorgeous old villa surrounded by tiny cobbled streets. We ate at a cafe for lunch and I had a delicious piece of quiche, and then finally crepes avec chocolat for dessert! You can't go to Paris and not eat crepes at least once. After that, I met up with Maria and her boyfriend at a cafe for a few hours. Then I quickly checked my email, randomly met up with my mom and sister, bought some cheese, un baguette, and fruit and then went back to the apartment. Hannah and Mom came back soon after and Hannah and I sat by our window on the rue des Archives and ate a wonderful late lunch that cost only 4 euros each. Picnicking is a great way to eat well and inexpensively, and feels more Parisian than sitting in a cafe ordering in broken French, and then being spoken to in English. Also, I love that Tropicana orange juice in Europe comes in glass jars and is 100% juice. Why can't we get that in the US? Then began a long, long journey to Florence starting with a trip on the metro from the Hotel de Ville, to the Gare du Lyon, to Paris-Bercy.
Firenze, Firenze. We arrived this morning at 11am after a fourteen-hour train ride. Florence is hot and full of tourists, but in the last few hours we've managed to check at the nunnery we're staying at (haha I know!) get money from a bank, buy bus passes and a phone card, learn where the laundromat and internet cafe is, and eat a perfect Italian meal. The train ride was interesting. It was full of Americans, mostly young college students but also quite a few high school graduates on their own. Luckily, the three of us had a car (normally for six people) to ourselves, and it looked just like the one in Harry Potter. There was a set menu offered in the restaurant, and at 11pm we all stumbled through the train to the restaurant area. To use a Garrett word, its quite trippy eating as you are flying along in darkness through the French countryside. They had really good thin hard breadsticks which Hannah and I devoured like rabbits eating carrots until the food came. One of the waiters, who also worked the bar, was soooo cute and flirted with us the whole time. These Italian men do know how to woo the women. I bought a half-bottle of red wine before dinner to pass the time in our car and it was made in Tuscany (the region in which we are now)! How cool is that, and only 8 euros too. After dinner on our way back to our car, the bar was packed with eighteen year old American guys getting completely drunk. They were good-hearted, though, and patted all three of us on the shoulders as we walked through. One of them asked for my pear because "it'll be my only dinner" so I gave it to him. Around 12:30am we pulled out the beds and I listened to music until I fell asleep... but after different body parts got pins and needles I got up to use one of the smelly bathrooms and couldn't really fall asleep again. We got up around 8 thinking we were close... only to sit in the car bored out of our minds for another three. Luckily, the cute guy from the restaurant was serving coffee at the bar so I got a cappuccino and everything was better again. In summation, our train from Paris to Florence was two hours late to leave from Paris-Bercy and four hours late to arrive in the Florence train station, and then it took half an hour to get a taxi to go to our room in the nunnery. Luckily, we didn't have any pressing reservations or connections to make, or else we would have missed all of them. Eurail is pretty unorganized and inefficient. There are no signs, no lines, no dispersement of relevant information, no updates or notices... really, its a miracle we even got onto the right train and off at the right station. We're staying in a nunnery because its cheaper than a hotel and because its a cool experience. I thought it was going to be up in the hills or something, but its actually on the edge of town on a busy street and looks like a large mansion. Our room wasn't made up when we arrived but we have a triple with our own bathroom and our window looks over the busy street. It's very quiet and the only people we saw were nuns in their habits. Nuns are weird, you guys. I feel like I'm going to be initiated into a cult. We freshened up, walked down the street and ate at the first trattoria we saw. It ended up being a great place... I had tortellini al pomodoro, tiramisu and a cappuccino. Our waiter Daniel was like the ones in Paris in that at first he was reserved and distant, but by the end he was having a ball practicing his English and answering our questions about where the bank is and how should we get bus tickets. His family has owned the restaurant for fifty-five years! He's cute and was wearing bright blue-rimmed glasses, and he says he changes the color of his glasses every month. We told him we would be back again. Now we're all catching up on things in this internet cafe with an English keyboard (smile!) and we're going to reserve a place on a bus tour for this afternoon, go on that, eat and then retire back to the nunnery early to take a nice shower and get an actual night's sleep (anyway, we have an 11pm curfew). Tomorrow we start really exploring Florence. There are many more internet cafes in Florence than there were in our area of Paris, so I think I'll manage to update more too. And I feel like I've been in Europe for months instead of only one week!
20 June 2006
joiedevivre
Bonjour from Paris! I am in an internet cafe and I dont have much time, but I wanted to get a post in before we leave tomorrow night! Also, the keyboard is French so many of the letters and symbols are in different places; so confusing! I love Paris. Every neighborhood has its own personality; we are renting two bedrooms in an apartment in the 4th arrondissement; cest tres jolie. The lady who lives there was born in 1940 in the bed she now sleeps in! After getting late Eurostar reservations, we ambled around London for a few hours and took the 5:09pm train from London, arriving late last night. We ate outside at a cute little cafe - the bread everywhere is amazing! Today we walked down the Champ Elysees, went to the top of the Arc du Triomphe, went to the area where AUP is, booked tickets near the Louvre for a night bus tour, went back to the apartment for a siesta and then had dinner in another cafe. I love cafes and they are everywhere! I definitely feel helpless knowing so little French, but my mom remembers a lot from high school, which has saved us from being treated like ignorant tourists. Being here makes me want to become fluent so I can understand this beautiful language! I think I will minor in French. However, I do not think I am ready yet to live here alone and I am glad I am staying in the US for university next year. Paris is breathtakingly beautiful. Ive been drinking le vin every day; today at lunch in a swanky restaurant I had the BEST glass of Bordeaux. And of course, le cafe is excellent and very strong the way it should be! Jaime Paris and of course le metro too! The people are relaxed and happy, and the waiters get nicer as the meal goes on. Tomorrow we leave for more adventures in another city!
18 June 2006
two
Alcoholic units yesterday: 3.5
Specifics: 2 Pimms, 1 beer, .5 Bacardi breezer
Last night was a lot of fun. My other two cousins, Tim aged 17 and Alastair aged 14, came home last night from boarding school for the weekend and we (the entire family) hung out outside around the table talking, drinking, eating dinner, taking a walk, then drinking some more. My uncle is so funny; he loves alcohol (in a non-abusive way) and is basically out to get everyone tipsy and happy. Pimms is a British drink that I don't believe in sold in the US... it's 25% alcohol (!) but I liked it a lot. You mix it with lemonade and put a piece of cucumber, a piece of peach and a mint leaf in the glass while you drink it. Odd but really good. The beer was Dutch, I don't remember the name of it, and Bacardi breezers are really sweet, fruity drinks that don't taste like they have a hint of Bacardi (rum) in them. (I didn't even get tipsy last night either). Hannah had one too, as did Alastair. Tim had a beer, like me, and the parents had wine. Everyone here is very relaxed about children drinking, becuase they generally start in the home with their parents and learn to not abuse it but to enjoy it. You start with Bacardi breezers or Schmirnoff ices and then progress, so instead of having your first experience be with shots at a party with people who aren't watching you or making sure you're not downing eight in half-an-hour (ahem Tyler), by the time you go to college you're well-versed in what you prefer and how much you can handle. Much better, in my opinion. My two older cousins, especially Tim, are hilarious. We haven't seen them for two years and they've really grown up in a good way. Actually, English people in general have a wicked sense of humor. We stayed up 'til twelve since I'm not really feeling at all jet-lagged anymore. Today returned typical English weather of clouds although it's not too chilly. I skipped the full English breakfast and had cereal, toast and fruit instead. We're all going to a fancy restaurant for lunch in half an hour and then spending the rest of the day here. Mom, Hannah and I leave the country tomorrow morning, and I'm ready! Also, Happy Birthday to my brother Will who is 17 today, and happy Father's Day to Dad!
17 June 2006
one
I'm in England! The first place should have been obvious; my mom can't pass up a trip to Europe without spending time with her mother and brother. At least it's not for long... I want to get to the mainland!
The plane ride was long and noisy. We took off an hour late, at 8:30pm. It was a 747, so it was enormous compared to the normal=sized planes I've taken recently. I didn't sleep at all; I just closed my eyes and for several hours kept telling myself that I was asleep. A little boy cried/screamed for an hour or two as well. Fuck you, little boy, wherever you are. It's amazing how little room you have, too. I swear when I was younger there was more space... although I was also three feet tall. At least they probably won't get any tighter, or else you wouldn't be able to breathe. I did manage to get a vegan meal (my last for the next two-and-a-half weeks) for dinner and breakfast which was nice. Dinner was (overcooked) penne with marinara sauce, a really good cold couscous salad thing, melon and a bread roll. Breakfast was a bread roll. The coffee with two thimbles of creamer in "the morning" (3am Arizona time) was probably the best part of the flight. We arrived at 1:30pm on Friday after the nine-hour flight, met the grandma, got coffee and shared a toasted cheese-and-grilled-vegetable panini from Starbucks (of all places), and drove (my mom drove, thank god) to my aunt-and-uncle's house two hours away in the country. It's so green here, even right outside London. On the highway you're surrounded by fields and meadows. I didn't sleep in the car, either, so Hannah and I listened to our iPods and took turns lying in each other's laps and/or observing the different kinds of cars. We got to their house (actually it's a little cottage built two-hundred years ago) at 5pm and spent the afternoon sitting in the garden enjoying the amazing weather. It's about 75 degrees and sunny, which is both unusual and unseasonal for this time of year. We had a bit of chocolate and cookies, and then had champagne and ate dinner (cold salads) around 8pm as it got colder. Hannah and I had been awake for 28 hours, I was hungry for a proper hot meal (excluding breakfast on Thursday I had just eaten little things here and there), feeling disoriented, tired of pretending to be excited with family, and missing a male figure like my dad or brother. We're staying in an adorable bed-and-breakfast two minutes away so we left their cottage at 9pm and we were all asleep by 10. I slept soooo well, and after having a shower and eating a full hot English breakfast (minus the sausages and ham) I felt a lot better for a while, until all the oil (from the fried bread and fried egg and fried potatoes) and fat (from the fresh milk) set in and I felt kind of naseous. I'm not used to eating packaged things, ridiculously sweet things and full-fat, oily things, so I've been craving fresh vegetables and fruit. Today we (me, Hannah, my mom, grandma, uncle and 10-year old cousin - oh yes, the entire motley crew) explored the Roman city of Bath (pronounced Bah-th like an English person would). For England it was so hot today, probably around 80 in the sun, but nevertheless we did the Roman bath tour and then walked around the town, checking out the old church and famous bridge too. I had fun since I took a million photos and stuck with Hannah for the day and let my mom listen to my grandma and cousin's non-stop commentary. Hannah and I have decided that as a whole, American teenagers dress better than English teenagers. English teenagers are about a year behind the US styles, they don't really know how to put the look together, and they wear skimpier stuff too. Bath is a big tourist town and I noticed that the only fat people were Americans and Britons; everyone else is normal and the Italians are so well-dressed. We just got back to the house and now it's more of sitting in the garden with tea and cookies. (I don't like tea!) I can't wait to be in coffee-drinking countries...
15 June 2006
ciao
Today I fly far, far away from here... for a two-and-a-half week adventure in Europe! To keep the suspense level unbelievably high, I will keep the journey's itinerary to myself and blog from each city that we are in. I don't think I will be able to post photos while we are traveling but there will be a huge picture post when I'm home again. Besides, even without pictures I have confidence that my charming, witty, and entertaining banter will lure you back...
"We live in a wonderful world that is full of beauty, charm and adventure. There is no end to the adventures we can have if only we seek them with our eyes open." -- Jawaharal Nehru
13 June 2006
calor
I just made an interesting dessert drink by blending almond milk, whole raw cashews, cocoa powder, shredded coconut and a frozen banana together. And surprisingly not tooo terrible for you, either. The cashews were whizzed into little beads so it wasn't completely smooth - minus. Chocolate - plus!
I hung out with Julia last night and looked at her $32 coffee table book called Every Country In The World... or something like that. Each country has its own page of beautiful, high resolution photos and lots of interesting information. You learn all these odd facts about countries and it's pretty cool - such as... Bangladesh has roughly half the population of the US but in landmass it is the size of... I don't really know what state it compares to, but it is small. Ok, Google just told me that Bangladesh is 144,000 square kilometers and the state of New York is 141,205 square km. So half of the entire US population (except they're obviously Bangladeshi) is crammed inside a country the size of New York state. Holy crap, that is squashed. Hmm... what else do I remember? Ah yes, it is possible to be a vegetarian in Prague (very good news for me). And for more interesting facts, just buy the book!
At work there are about four-hundred CDs in the CD player but only about ten of them are ever played. So I hear the same few dozen songs over and over again. They play jazzy airy floaty European music, with a bit of loud American swing thrown in there for good measure. There is one song that I hear all the time and I want to find out what it is and get it for myself but the lyrics are in Spanish. When lyrics are in English I just write down a few lines, Google them with the word 'lyrics' and I almost always find out what the song is. That doesn't work in Spanish. The only words I can detect are, "Tienes calor? Tienes calor?" (Are you hot?) and "de mi corazon" (of my heart). I asked the bartender, who controls the stereo, what the CD was but he gave me the wrong title because I looked it up and the song is definitely not on there; I listened to every clip on Amazon. Sigh. Speaking of work, I trained a new girl today. I find this funny because I've only worked there for about six weeks but I guess it doesn't take long to becoming fluent in hostessing.
I'm battling with another demon. I'm so sick of battling. My mind becomes this exhausting war zone, but no one knows about it but I (me? myself?).
11 June 2006
pearls
It's time we had a talk about organic food. Whole Foods are popping up in every wealthy urban and suburban city in the country. Safeway (the supermarket chain) has introduced its own line of moderately-priced organic foods. Farmers markets are thriving year-round as people grow increasingly wary of the bland, pesticide-ridden produce in supermarkets. Being basically vegan and a concerned consumer, organic food has always interested me. And what exactly is organic? I forget that most people don't care about food as much as I do and might not know the definition. "Organic food is produced by farmers who emphasize the use of renewable resources and the conservation of soil and water to enhance environmental quality for future generations. Organic meat, poultry, eggs, and dairy products come from animals that are given no antibiotics or growth hormones. Organic food is produced without using most conventional pesticides; fertilizers made with synthetic ingredients or sewage sludge; bioengineering; or ionizing radiation." [source]. It's a protected word under the USDA (an agency I scrutinize since they are heavily, heavily influenced by the meat and dairy industries) and the "USDA Organic" sticker is only given to food that is at least 95% organic. It originally involved only produce - fruits and vegetables - but now encompasses everything including bread products, canned stuff, frozen microwaveable meals, snack foods, dairy products and meat. I will be the first to acknowledge that I do not buy all organic produce. One of my more liberal and socially-conscious professors at CC, who is married and has a few kids, admitted in class one day that his family's grocery bills are triple what they used to be now that they buy all-organic. I admire his prioritization of food to the top of the budget because in my family, food quality is not really thought about but simply accepted for what it is. I personally will buy an organic papaya or something for myself but the rest of the family doesn't care about what they eat. When I live on my own, it will be interesting to see where I place food when I have my own income and bills to pay. I think I will buy organic fruits and vegetables, at least. Honestly, the quality of my food comes before many things, including cable television and clothes, in my book. (After all, we are literally what we eat. If you eat a burger, you become a grave for that cow. What you eat becomes part of you. And I've eaten a bit of dairy this week, and now I have several friendly pimples on my face. I really need to take note of these signs.] Of course, locally-grown food is the highest ideal. In Claremont there is a farmer's market every Sunday in the village (that I can walk to!) which I plan on frequenting for fruit and whatever else looks good. There are several farmer's markets here but most are seasonal and about half an hour away. About tomatoes: organic tomatoes taste so much better than conventional tomatoes and therefore I buy organic ones despite them being expensive. The other day I bought organic grape tomatoes and ate some of them, and then saw a few conventional grape tomatoes left over in the fridge. I had one of them and the difference in (i.e. lack of) flavor was astounding. Also, tomatoes aren't all supposed to be round and bright red. Ditto for apples. And bell peppers. Does row upon row of identical apples freak anyone else out? And FYI, the twelve fruits and vegetables are apples, cherries, imported grapes, nectarines, peaches, pears, raspberries, and strawberries, bell peppers, spinach, potatoes and spinach. Also noteworthy is that "over 90% of the pesticides Americans consume are found in the fat and tissue of meat and dairy products" because animals are fed pesticide-ridden food. [source]. God, I could go on about this stuff forever, and so can John Robbins, whose book The Food Revolution is a must-read.
ANYWAY.
Michael Pollan wrote an article entitled Mass Natural, published on June 4th in The New York Times Magazine. It's about the penetration of the organic food industry by Walmart and how it will affect organic food in the future. It's completely fascinating and I urge you all to read it here. Below are some excerpts. The part about Atrazine, a herbicide that affects (i.e. lowers) male sperm count, is especially alarming.
"Beginning later this year, Wal-Mart plans to roll out a complete selection of organic foods - food certified by the U.S.D.A. to have been grown without synthetic pesticides or fertilizers - in its nearly 4,000 stores. Just as significant, the company says it will price all this organic food at an eye-poppingly tiny premium over its already-cheap conventional food: the organic Cocoa Puffs and Oreos will cost only 10 percent more than the conventional kind. Organic food will soon be available to the tens of millions of Americans who now cannot afford it � indeed, who have little or no idea what the term even means. Organic food, which represents merely 2.5 percent of America's half-trillion-dollar food economy, is about to go mainstream."
"[ . . . ] you might want to ask a few questions about how the company plans to achieve its laudable goals. Assuming that it's possible at all, how exactly would Wal-Mart get the price of organic food down to a level just 10 percent higher than that of its everyday food? To do so would virtually guarantee that Wal-Mart's version of cheap organic food is not sustainable, at least not in any meaningful sense of that word. To index the price of organic to the price of conventional is to give up, right from the start, on the idea, once enshrined in the organic movement, that food should be priced not high or low but responsibly. As the organic movement has long maintained, cheap industrial food is cheap only because the real costs of producing it are not reflected in the price at the checkout. Rather, those costs are charged to the environment, in the form of soil depletion and pollution (industrial agriculture is now our biggest polluter); to the public purse, in the form of subsidies to conventional commodity farmers; to the public health, in the form of an epidemic of diabetes and obesity that is expected to cost the economy more than $100 billion per year; and to the welfare of the farm- and food-factory workers, not to mention the well-being of the animals we eat."
And possibly my favorite line:
"To say you can sell organic food for 10 percent more than you sell irresponsibly priced food suggests that you don't really get it - that you plan to bring business-as-usual principles of industrial "efficiency" and "economies of scale" to a system of food production that was supposed to mimic the logic of natural systems rather than that of the factory."
Personally, organic food at Walmart disturbs me and I will not be buying it there. I don't shop at Walmart because I don't agree with their attitude towards things I respect, among them: small businesses, fair wages, health insurance, and good-quality products. Walmart's venture into the organic food industry is motivated completely by profits and not by (even a little bit) a genuine desire to improve the quality of food or our health. All Walmart cares about is the bottom line, and if organic is what's hot, then Walmart wants in. I'm not so idealistic as to forget that all businesses want to stay in business, but Walmart... well, we all know about Walmart. There's no need for a tirade. My fear is that Walmart's tremendous presence in the US and its forceful lobbying power in Washington will affect the definition of organic food in a negative manner, and 'organic' will become just another word abused by marketers along with "fresh", "natural" and "healthy", a word that means nothing.
10 June 2006
tenth
She rolled around on the floor, her mouth a continuous smile, cackling at his stories as his voice piped into the room over speakerphone. It was as if he was lying next to her instead of hundreds of miles away. They marvel at the story: two people meet by chance on a backpacking trip organized by a little college they had both chosen to attend. They spend the next four months entwined, being arguably the closest person in the life of the other. Then she left, while he stayed. Now separated, the two friends manage to reunite every few months in places that neither call home. This summer, they will miss each other when she is in Europe and he is in Asia. While she cannot speak for him, she can think of no better traveling partner. Luckily, they will gallavant around Los Angeles together for a few days in August before the reality of school hits them both. They both live for travel, for the unknown, for the cups of coffee, for aesthetically-pleasing furniture. He questions his major and his desire to go to medical school. She wonders, with a sinking heart, if she made the wrong choice. (But what determines "wrong"? Certainly, Paris would have been amazing. The opportunities in California are plenty, so does it really matter? She'll end up where she should end up. Life is lived everywhere, not just in the pretty postcards in the bookstore. Still, worries of boredom and claustrophobia haunt her by day,and by night, insomnia drags her by the arm.) They exchange reviews of films, descriptions of boring summer days and glimpses into (her) perfect future, flashes of living in Amsterdam or Munich or Barcelona and buying tulips and bread from the market and riding bicycles and having picnics outside. The numbness that settles when one has no contact with another painfully evaporates when a voice is heard. She remembers how much she misses him... she misses many people. Every place she goes, she finds more wonderful people. The ones who are special find ways to stay connected even after both separate.
I want to hide away in cozy coffee shops for hours every stiflingly hot summer night, legs crossed under a colorful skirt, sipping bowls of cafe au lait and continuously clutching the arm of another elusive, long-lost friend whom I've managed to pin down for a night. Unfortunately, there is both a lack of cozy coffee shops and of long-lost friends in the vicinity. So I make do with what I have: a few hours to myself on a late Saturday night, a beautiful blue cup that has been my closest friend for many nights this year, and my drink of choice ce soir: hot chocolate.
08 June 2006
noise
Sometimes, transferring sucks. Actually, there is very little that is positive about transferring. The only thing I can think of is that you get to meet more people and have a broader experience with higher education and possibly a wiser outlook in life (or so we tell ourselves). That's it. Then, of course, you look forward to being excluded from most scholarships, getting a minimal orientation that is completely geared towards freshmen, missing the first-semester freshman experience that bonds everyone, being at the bottom of the list for housing, getting the leftover classes in registration, being in a really awkward position friends-wise, praying that all your credits transfer, and hoping that this college will be a better place for you than your previous one. I got a preliminary evaluation of transfer credit the other week and ludicrously, only 2/4 CC classes were accepted while 4/5 ASU ones were. (The evaluation was quite unclear about which 6 were accepted - actually, now it's 7 including math, see below). I know that some of my CC classes were kind of vague/extremely specific, but I don't understand why I can't get elective credit for those. Not only was my little semester at CC extremely expensive but I spent three of those four months taking challenging, writing-intensive liberal arts classes and I think I deserve to be credited for those. While I can see why Financial Accounting is debatable, it was offered by the Economics department... and Scripps and CC are identical in terms of rankings. Tomorrow morning I have a "telephone appointment" with the Scripps registrar where I hope to discuss (or beg for) more of my credits to be accepted. Over this last year, I took classes in the departments of Political Science, History, Economics, Sociology, English, Mathematics, and French. Admittedly, that's a bit heavy in the Social Sciences side but in my defense, going to two schools in one year makes it pretty difficult to appropriately plan a balanced schedule. So I still need to take classes that fulfill the requirement for Natural Sciences, Race & Ethnic Studies, Womens Studies, and Fine Arts. I was browsing the 5-college schedule for the fall, and it is disappointing that several classes I'd like to take are full. Unlike freshman year where spots are held in classes for first-years because they're helpless and confused, it's impossible to do that for transfers because we're accepted after registration occurs and everyone is at a different place academically. So for my intended major, Politics and International Relations, a required class called Introduction to IR is completely full. So are all the fun Fulfills-the-Science-Requirement classes. So are the introductory Art History classes. Scripps has something called CORE, a three-semester, humanities program that you *usually* take over freshman and the first-half of sophomore year. I've been waived from CORE 1, but not from CORE 2. CORE 2 is only offered 2nd semester, and CORE 3 is only offered 1st semester. I think you have to take them in sequence, so I guess I'll have to take CORE 2 as a second-semester sophomore and CORE 3 as a first-semester junior. That's so weird though! I also want to study abroad (at least for part of) junior year, and I want to continue with either French or Spanish for the rest of college. Basically, there's a lot I need to do if I want to graduate with my (new) class, and not a lot of time if I want to do all the things I want to do - become fluent in a foreign language, study abroad, maybe double-major (this might be impossible) but definitely minor. Luckily, after reviewing the description of my math class at ASU, Scripps determined it would fulfill the math requirement to graduate. So now I'm at 7/8 classes - one class shy of being classified as a sophomore. My goal tomorrow morning is to get one more class to be counted and at least then I'll be on track credit-wise. (I am not a "continuing first-year", for fuck's sake!) The registrar lady sounded old and cranky, though, so I'm not sure how easy this will be. However, I am consoling myself in that if I can't change her mind, then I'm sure I can take a class over the summer at one of the 5Cs (I'll be using that term a lot now; it means "five colleges", referring to the five Claremont Colleges of which Scripps is one, along with Claremont McKenna, Pomona, Harvey Mudd and Pitzer). I just really don't want to spend another unmentionable amount of money and another academic year catching up and have to graduate in 2010 (even if it sounds much cooler than 2009). I'm sure all of this will work out fine but it's disheartening to think about it all right now.
Other than that, I've been eating lots of chocolate, working every damn morning this week but have settled into a nice routine/peaceful acceptance with it, [being one who arduously respects the rules of language, I apologize that my font HTML doesn't recognize accents or else I would use them] dusting off my limited knowledge of Spanish with the Mexican bussers ("Es muy despacio hoy", "Paola, soy aburrido!" "Te llama Miguel? No? Jose? No?! Ah, yo se - Angel!"), swooning over mi amor Gael Garcia Bernal...
...in The Motorcycle Diaries (please let me know when you're done with the DVD because I want to finish it)... and La mala educacion is excellent too, feeling up all the produce in Whole Foods (to Julia's horror), taking spontaneous photos at unintended angles that slice off parts of my friends' faces while mine remains curiously intact (and no, my (finally re-dyed brown) hair is not cut off, it's just messily tied up)...
... getting several allergic reactions (cue me rubbing my eyes for two hours to no avail) from Julia's cat, reading interesting articles in the New York Times, getting excited for the kickoff of World Cup 2006 tomorrow!, rediscovering necklaces that have been buried for months at the bottom of my jewelry pot, talking to Tyler on the telephone, being awkwardly present for the entire duration of a (rare) escalating argument between my loving parents, and getting psyched for Europe next Thursday. So are the joys of being at home in the summer.
05 June 2006
streetboy
Maybe my recent spell of nonchalance with cooking is coming to an end. Last night I put this together. It's gnocchi (pronounced 'nyo-kee') in a garlic and olive oil sauce with cherry tomatoes, mushrooms, zucchini, and cashews. I must admit that I did not make the gnocchi myself, although it's on the list of things to do before I die. And despite the long made-up name of the meal, it was a cinch to make. Gnocchi cooks in three minutes in boiling water, so that's done. I sauteed a lot of garlic (four cloves for just me!) in quite a bit of olive oil (the Mediterranean diet is not a fad) and then added the vegetables and a handful of raw cashews. I'm into lots of raw cashews right now and I'm putting them in everything - oatmeal, smoothies, supper. But that's okay, because they're really good for you! I dashed some basil and freshly cracked pepper into the whole thing, and finally, put the gnocchi in a bowl, tossed it with the vegetables, and voila. Delicious.
Julia tagged people to make a list of ten of life's simple pleasures. There are many, but this is what I came up with last night.
04 June 2006
image
Sometimes I feel paralyzed in self-doubt. I have to keep telling myself, "Katherine, this is all projected by you. No one else cares." We are our own worst critics. Last night the restaurant was beautiful; candles glittered on every table, on the bar, on the windowshelves. As the atmosphere dimmed, I remained hopeful because "I'll look better in less light". It didn't help that the girl I worked with was stunningly beautiful. The same age as me, she had glowing, bronze skin, perfect makeup, a low-cut black halter top that showed off her shoulderblades and stopped above her hipbones. Tall and thin, but not skinny. She could have been a model if she'd been a few inches taller. People stared at her as they told us where they wanted to be seated. I felt obscene. She was nice to me, but we have little in common. How does someone look like that? I wanted to ask her, "Do you eat?" Later, she said she'd woken up hungover that morning, "which, you know, makes food seem gross" and had only eaten a piece of toast since then. Ah, I see. Looking over the menu, she exhaled in hunger and asked if I had eaten there. "Only once, I, uh... have had the crab..." "Crepe? So good." "And you?" "Oh, I've tried everything. It's all amazing. My favorite's the flat iron." The pieces didn't fit together, but I don't pry. She's got the body down, but what else? An elderly man came in with two others, and his eyes twinkled at me. I could tell that he wanted to chat. He took my hand, squeezed it and smiled as he talked about the weather. His face was soft, and he was inches from me, looking into my eyes. It wasn't creepy; he was like a grandfather. They took a seat at the communal table, and I went back to standing. Later I was chatting with a server Aimee when I felt a hand on my back. She did too, and there he was between us, this time his eyes twinkling at us both. "Do you know what's missing on that flag?" He pointed at a dusty framed picture of an out-of-date US flag. Aimee and I played alone with the game. I estimated and said "Two stars?" Again, those eyes lit up. "That's right!" He smiled. The skin around his eyes was wrinkled; I couldn't stop looking at them. "I notice little things like that." Me too. Today I wore a new dress to run some errands. It was green and young women don't often wear dresses to go grocery shopping, so people looked. I felt them looking, but I looked away in order to not discern on their faces if it was interest or disgust keeping their gaze. With the right posture I felt beautiful but do others agree? This is psychological, because I'm in a good place physically. I've been running consistently, doing yoga, drinking cups and cups of water and eating lots of fruit and vegetables. I have to learn to be comfortable in my skin, because I'm stuck with myself for a long time.
A wonderful lazy Sunday includes watching TV with my sister. Some of her comments about the weight and appearance of female characters scared me, though. These girls looked fine. From where is she molding her ideas of beauty? Sarcasm aside, it must be difficult being popular and being friends with throngs of teenage girls, many of whom are really skinny. Not wanting to stand out, their Myspace photos look identical; dark eyes looking seductively into the camera, hair mussed up, pouting. Sex sells; the boys must be drooling. To me, her friends are hollow, stickly, the antithesis of beauty - they look like little girls who have not yet hit puberty. But to Hannah, they are her yardsticks for comparison with herself. I must say that Hannah has done an excellent job of looking beautiful (she really is) on a diet of pizza, poptarts and chocolate. I throw in casual comments to gauge her reaction. Rolling her eyes, she says, "Right, Kath, I'm totally anorexic." For now, she's safe. But I hope that as she enters into high school, into the dangerous years of catfights, drivers licences, cocky boys and flowing alcohol, her head will stay free from harmful ideas about the way women are supposed to look. Salma Hayek and Kate Winslet, not Mary Kate and Mischa Barton. At the end of the day, it's just a body in which we must live. All I can do is keep it healthy and worry about more important things.
03 June 2006
cashews
How To Tell if You're [American, Brazilian, German, etc.] Read the introduction, and then scroll down and read the American one first, because it acts as an outline for all the others. Fascinating!
2:03 p.m.
The PV mall really freaks me out. There are many obese people chomping on Cinnabons and slowly plodding their way around. Packs of goth teenagers huddle together, making the weekly pilgrimage to Hot Topic. Hordes of loud little children go wild; their frazzled, incompetent parents unable to restrain them. Sleazy men check you out, and the guys you wish were checking you out are nowhere to be found because they too think that PV mall is ghetto. Oh, and there are plenty of very old people, usually in pairs, who take their dear sweet time going anywhere. I'm always nervous that I'm going to be mugged in the parking lot; today on the way up the stairs two coke addicts mumbled something to me including the words "ten dollars". Then, as I neared the car I heard strange noises and rustling somewhere very close, so I literally threw my shopping bag into the passenger seat and zoomed out of there. PV is so ghetto. This said, the only reason I ever go to PV mall is because it is so much less of a hassle to shop there than at Fashion Square. FS is fun when you are with (a) friend(s) and have lots of time and money. But this morning I needed something black - a skirt or pants - since I'm covering the night shift for one of the other girls tonight - and I needed to get it ASAP, so I was thrilled that I was able to park, run into Gap, try on a few things and emerge only an hour later poorer but victorious. (Sidenote: I am loving the Gap right now and completely disappointed with Express. Does anyone else think their quality has gone down? Cheap fabrics, boring styles, everything is tiny and they re-sized all their pants! And their jeans are shit!) Now, time for a workout, and then work itself.