Scorpion in the Kitchen

The title of the post explains it all. This evening, as Carlos and I were fixing some tea, I walked towards the kitchen table and saw a scorpion. It's black. I always thought they were red, so I asked Carlos if this was a joke. His mom has some plastic rats and snakes that have terrified the grandchildren, so I thought that this could just be a joke...

It wasn't. Yes, his family had other plastic creatures, but not scorpions. I was terrified. I felt trapped and didn't know what to do. So I sat on the kitchen counter while Carlos looked for the broom to sweep it outside. He didn't want to kill it, even though before he thought of the broom he grabbed a small chair, presumably to smash it with. He couldn't find the broom, so I suggested he asked his dad, who was upstairs, for some help...and just to confirm that it wasn't a joke of his...

It wasn't. Dad came downstairs and helped Carlos sweep it out the house. It did move a little while being nudged with the broom. I was still sitting on the counter, terrified. I'm still terrified. Carlos assured me that that was the first scorpion that he's seen in the house. That didn't make me feel much better. I would have preferred to hear that he has never seen a scorpion in Cuenca. I'm still afraid to go into the kitchen, even though I know the scorpion isn't there. Maybe I'll be over it tomorrow, but for now no more slippers to breakfast.

Lazy

Well, I think maybe just fatigued from lack of oxygen at this altitude. Though I have lots of stories and photos, they won't be posted now. Or for at least a week or two. Tomorrow Carlitos and I head to DC for my cousin's wedding.

I should be packing now.

We will be stateside for about a month so I will find time to post then. I hope.

Notes on Ecuador

I'm getting used to this country. I still miss heated buildings, but I'm getting used to it. Cuenca and the surrounding areas are beautiful. Carlitos and I have spent the past few weeks hanging out with his family and friends and doing a bit of hiking among various local Incan/Cañari ruins. I know that everyone wants to see photos. They're coming. Just not today.

In a few hours we are going to Quito for a few days. Then a week or so at the beach. Maybe I'll find a faster modem somewhere there and post some photos, but it's unlikely that any will be posted before heading home in September. Sorry.

Bureaucracy

I'm getting a bit more comfortable here, though my Spanish still sucks. The thing that has surprised me the most so far is how bureaucracy functions here. For example, last week Carlitos needed to get a new driver's license (his was misplaced). In Chicago, if you loose your license you get a duplicate and pay $5 and have to wait in line for maybe an hour or two (though there are some offices that only print and reprint licenses, like when you change your address, that take 5 minutes). That's not the case in Cuenca.

So we went to one police station for some document, they said no, you need to go to another place for a different document. We went to the second place, no they said, you need a notarized statement saying that you lost your license. We go to the notary, get the statement, go back to the second place. The statement is not valid. We go to a different police station, and find out he needs more documents. So we call it quits for the day.

The next day we go back to the first place from the day before (by the way, we need to drive to all the places, since they are scattered all over the city, not the most legal thing when one is trying to get a new license). We get a document that the day before they said he didn't need (proving he has not criminal record). We go to another place and get another document, some sort of judgment statement that needs to stamped at a different place. Finally we return to the second police station, I read my book while Carlitos needs to take an eye test and a written driving test that was a joke. And finally after two days and about $80 he got his license.

I think I'm going to get my international license when I am back in Chicago rather than attempting to get one here.

Cuenca

I finally made it to Ecuador. Actually, I arrived last week, but it has taken a while to acclimate. I'm a flatlander. Chicago is about 200m above sea level (I didn't know that but I just googled it) and Delft is below sea level. Cuenca is about 2500m above sea level. I flew into Guayaquil, on the coast, where Carlitos met me at the airport. We spent the night there and the next morning walked around the city a bit. That's where my ailments began; I got sunburned.

That afternoon we went by road to Cuenca, only three hours away and through Cajas, the national park where Carlitos used to work. I didn't see the park. I was asleep, or maybe had just passed out due to the lack of oxygen, since the park is at about 4000m. When we arrived at his house in Cuenca I felt alright, which was fortunate, since about half his family was there to meet me (his family, i.e., parents, siblings, in-laws, nieces and nephews, are about 26 in number). I met the rest of the family a few days later.

However, that night was terrible. I was up sick half the night and spent the next day in bed just resting. I was trying to convince myself that I didn't drink the water in Guayaquil (I should know better, since I now have a masters degree in "don't drink the water"), but then remembered that my juice had had some ice in it. After a day in bed, I was ready to emerge and meet the rest of the family. Carlitos' parents have a summer home (not really a summer home since here by the equator it's almost seasonless, but what is referred to as a summer home in the US) a bit outside of town where on weekends the whole family goes to BBQ, garden, gossip, drink, play, etc. While I had a very nice time there, the affliction of the day was shortness of breath.

On Monday morning Carlitos had an interview in a city about an hour away. We drove there with his father and while Carlitos was in the interview, I talked with papi in my best Spanish (now at about a first grade level, but improving). After the interview, we drove a bit further down the road for some sugarcane juice. In the afternoon, I finally made it into the central part of Cuenca. We saw few churches, wandered through the market, and dodged traffic. I was really surprised by how many cars there were. The historic center is beautiful, but unlike Delft, there are cars everywhere (and the sidewalks are quite narrow). Maybe that's why I started sneezing.

Or maybe the cold that I woke up with on Tuesday was due to the climate. The temperature here is relatively consistent, between 10-20C (50-70F) year round. Therefore, they don't have indoor heating. And I am one of those people who is always cold. I have layers, but I just don't like wearing a jacket indoors. Also, the air here is dry. Therefore, we spent the afternoon in neighboring town of Baños, at a Turkish bath (a steam room with a cold shower). It was very very nice.

OK, this had gotten a bit long so far. Up next, how to get a drivers license in Ecuador and why I can drink the tap water in Cuenca. And photos too. I'm having a bit of an uploading issue right now. Sorry.

Where am I?

I'm currently in Chicago, on Connie and Greg's couch petting their dog. My adventures are in a holding pattern until next week. I know there is some adventure in Chicago, I sensed it as I stepped of the plane to the distinct aroma of O'Hare (that looks so wrong with the apostrophe, but wikipedia assured me it is correct, maybe I'm just not used to it anymore). The airport smells like cinnamon and disinfectant.

Anyway, whatever adventure there may be in town, I am not having it right now. I am spending my three days here unpacking and repacking. And hanging out with the family a bit. The day after tomorrow I move to Cuenca, Ecuador, to be with my boyfriend Carlos. I am very excited, but a bit nervous, since I haven't practiced my Spanish in weeks, almost months. Though he speaks English, most of his family does not. When I met his parents a few months ago the conversation started simply and during the first few days my head was aching from language immersion, though after a few weeks my Spanish conversation skills had improved. However, as soon as they left I promptly forgot everything I had learned to make room in my skull for my thesis. Even though I graduated a months ago, those thoughts are still lingering since my engineering skills are a bit stronger than my language skills (which is why I'm an engineer, duh).

So, more adventure and more photos will be posted soon. I am sure that Ecuador will be an adventure like The Netherlands was. Probably even more so.

Itinerary

Today Delft. Tomorrow Dublin. Thursday NYC. Sunday Chicago. Thursday Ecuador.

More stories on the blog? I'll get back to you.

Back in Delft

The last six weeks were a bit busy. A month of my life was sucked away by my thesis, though with good results. Then, two weeks of port hopping, now I'm finally back in Delft. I will more entries after, packing, shipping, cleaning, editing...I hope.

Graduation (April 24, 2008)

First, to be clear, I did not graduate, though most of my classmates did. I will graduate at the end of June (my project has two months extra) in a small ceremony with about half a dozen of my classmates. Since the majority of students graduate in April (about 150 of 180) there is a nice ceremony and party. Carlitos' parents arrived a few days prior, as well as friends and family of other classmates. It was great to finally meet the husbands, wives, parents, and children of my friends.

The institute requests that students graduate in their "traditional dress". About half the class actually does, and it looks amazing. I love the traditional Ugandan dresses, which have enormous puffy shoulders and lovely sashes that I never expected. The Nepali men wear colorful hats with white tops and pants and then add a navy blazer on top. The Ethiopians are also in white, but usually with a scarf that is patterned like the flag.

The rest wear suits and cocktail dresses. I didn't. I wore my sari instead. I figured that that would probably be the only chance to wear it for a while. And fortunately two of my Nepalese classmates saw me attempting to wrap 15 feet of fabric around me and helped me dress. I had googled it beforehand and figured that it can't be that difficult to wrap. But I was wrong. I wouldn't have made it without their help.

The ceremony itself was a typical graduation, followed by drinks at the auditorium, then a typical IHE party, plus an after party that is rumored to have finished in a fight. There's not much to say about the graduation, except that it was very sad having to say goodbye to my classmates...some left for home the very next morning, though most went a day or two later.

It's a bit lonely now. But I have a thesis to keep me company :)

Month Off

It's been ages since I've written, but truly there has not been time, and not much will. Graduation (for most) was April 24, so the last two weeks of April were filled with parties and saying goodbye. Also, Carlitos' parents are visiting, so I have been exhausted after practicing my improving Spanish all day. And then there were the holidays to consider, for it would have been wrong to not go out on Queen's Day.

The lab takes time too, I've been spending eight hour days there, when the lab is open and my chemicals are there. Writing my thesis too, since I am supposed to submit it in three weeks! Finally the sun, it's been showing itself for the last week. So I've been everywhere instead of in front of this computer.

Hmmm, sun. Today looks nice. I'll write more later.

Day Off

Last week was a tough week for many of my friends, so we decided to get our of town yesterday. Just north of Amsterdam, about a half hour by bus, is the fishing/tourist town of Volendam. Elena, Carlitos, and I got there at about 1PM and wandered by the harbor, watching the sun shine on the IJsselmer and having a beer at a local bar. This bar was about 100m from the main tourist area, but a world away. It looked like a 1970's basement with wood paneled walls, crocheted curtains, and a pinball machine (actually, it sounds like I'm describing Hilary's basement now that I think of it, just like that but darker and will a bar).

After the beer we met Alejandro and Maria, who took a later train than us, and proceeded to our main activity of the day. The photo session. More specifically, the Dutch photo session. The photo below was entitled by Elena as "Primos Politicos Hollandse" (which can roughly be translated from Spanish and Dutch as "Dutch Cousin-in-Laws").


The scariest part of the photo is how Dutch I look. I mean, how Dutch we look. Ale looks a bit drunk already with his bottle of Bols, Carlitos is way too happy to have a basket of fish, Maria looks like she is about to throw the cheese at the photographer, Elena is jealous that I am holding the flowers and she got stuck with the accordion, and I just look Dutch.

After a lunch of fried fish, we wandered through the town again, drank some coffee in the sun, and watched the clouds by the sea. The day was beautiful and sunny, though a bit windy. As evening approached we took the bus back to Amsterdam, without much of a plan.

When we arrived in Amsterdam, I had the idea to go visit an art exhibit, but it was almost 7PM and already closed. So Plan B was to have a drink. There is a bar that a friend of Alejandro's had told us about six months ago. When my brother and I tried to find it, it was closed. When Alejandro and I looked for it a few weeks later, we arrived at last call. This time we made it in for a drink.

The bar is called Wynand Fockink (yes, you are allowed to laugh at the name) and has been distilling its own liquors since 1679. It's a tasting room too. So, the bartender, our "doctor" asked us our ailments and prescribed some tasty remedies that did not resemble cough syrup (except for the raspberry one). After filling the delicate shot glasses to the brim, the tradition is to slurp off the top before lifting your glass. I tried some rose liquor, as well as a combination of orange, vanilla, and bitter almond, while Elena had a lovely mix of lemon and ginger. Alejandro enjoyed the jenever (Dutch Gin), while Maria and Carlitos stuck to the fruit flavored liquors. It was a great experience, and a really fun end to our day off.

The Editor Is In

The snow has gone, and so are the photos. But spring is not quite here yet. The past week or so I have been editing. Most of my friends are handing in their theses by the end of the week, so I have volunteered to review some of them. But that's not the only editing I've been doing.

Last weekend was International Sports Day. IHE won, again, this year. While last year I ran, this year I had a different role. I was given a camcorder and now have three hours of footage I need to turn into a 5 to 10 minute video. So, I need to edit.

Spring?

There is snow on the ground. Snow? It is spring. Alejandro, Simon, and I went running yesterday. My first run since the race last week. Not the best idea. Besides the fact that it began to snow during the run, my legs are still sore. I googled the pain to be shin splints (upon advice from the guy in the running store). The treatment is rest and ice. Since I have no ice, I guess that it's lucky for me that there is snow.

Recovery

Yesterday I competed in a half marathon. I ran 21.1k through Den Haag (The Hague) in 2 hours, 16 minutes, and 50 seconds. My time was in the range that I had thought and am quite proud. But, in hindsight I think I could have ran it a bit faster and without a few of the post run side effects if I had done a few things differently. To be blunt, there are some things I did not do right.

First of all, I only trained for a month prior to the race. I only ran one long run (16 km). Therefore, I only realized at about km 10 that there might be something wrong with my shoes. On both of my legs, the insides between mid calf and ankle really hurt. They had ached a bit on short runs but I thought it was due to the one incline on our normal route. Well, I don't think that is the cause anymore, because the race course was quite flat and my legs started hurting halfway through and became more painful with every step. I now blame the shoes. I ordered them online but they were the same make and model as a pair I had about a year ago, just a different color. Grrr.

Hmm, I guess that was two things. More training and better shoes. That is about all I would change. I am recovering now. My legs don't ache too much, I didn't get any blisters, but I did get a bit of chafing. It is in a really strange place that I never expected to have a problem...my lower back. I think it's from the tag of my underwear. I'm actually quite embarrassed to admit that. Anyway, my skin is almost raw, but the Neosporin is helping.

The race itself was lots of fun. As a veteran runner told us on the train over, the weather was perfect. No sun, but no wind or rain either at a balmy 15C (60F). A group of 9 of us from IHE ran and Carlitos was the official photographer and backpack holder. While the boys ran ahead, I ran the first half of the race with Lindsay. She left me half way through because I couldn't keep up due to my aching legs. The route was really nice and I appreciated all the people cheering and bands playing for us along the way ("Sweet Caroline" got me past km 8). We ran for about 2 km along the pier at Scheveningen, staring at the flat North Sea. I saw signs for water after km 16 and after some refreshment kept my eyes open for the km 17 sign. After a few minutes I was sure I had missed it and started looking for km 18. A short while later I saw it in the distance and in my mind was so relieved that I only had 3 km left. But as I approached I realized it was the km 19 sign! Only 2 km left, what a relief. The whole race was so psychological.

Being the last one of our group to finish I found my friends at the end and we decided to celebrate with the traditional form of recovery after any group sport, the third half (though in this case it was proper to call it the second half). After 21.1km we recovered with a beer (ok, I had two). When we finally got home I collapsed in my bed for the rest of the day and have spent today being lazy (though I have read a few papers for my thesis).

The race was fun and though just after the finish line I swore I would never do it again, I actually am now considering a marathon. But only with more training and better shoes.

It's Not Easy Being Green

I have a bag of spinach in the fridge. I actually used it in dinner tonight. And I only cooked for myself. Stranger things have happened, but not many.

Yesterday, as usual, I was thinking about dinner (I usually start thinking about dinner when I wake up, I don't really like breakfast and lunch is easy). I was browsing the Williams-Sonoma website for recipes and found one for a type of ravioli that looked great, it had garlic, veal, and rosemary in a brown butter sauce. I showed Alejandro, and he thought it looked good too, "Spinach," he proclaimed reading the ingredients, "garlic, rosemary..." Wait. I didn't notice the spinach. Hmmm.

I had a dilemma. I had already agreed to cook it for us (Carlitos is somewhere near the Wadden Sea this week), so I couldn't just leave out the spinach. So I bought the smallest bag possible, which was a mammoth 300g. I made the filling. We went running. Somewhere during the run Ale decided to cancel on dinner to watch a futbol match (which was fine with me since I was exhausted from the run) so I went home to make dinner for myself. And I voluntarily ate something that I prepared with spinach in it.

Many people may not think that is a big deal, but I am one of the pickiest eaters around. My general mantra was that I won't even touch it if it is green (the exception was mint chocolate chip ice cream). I'm slowly changing my ways, for I have since expanded to pesto, spring onions, absinthe, and green curry. But spinach? I fear my family will have a heart attack when they read this...

The Surprise

Last weekend I went to London. It's so close, and one of my favorite cities, but I hadn't been there in years. Of course, my motives were not entirely pure. Carlitos was returning from his five weeks in Uganda (for research) on Monday morning, via London Gatwick. I knew what flight he was on, so I booked myself a seat as well.

I had a wonderful time by myself in London. I spent two full days just riding the tube and wandering around town. I saw the Royal Ballet, visited the Royal Academy, National Gallery and National Portrait Gallery (amazing museum, Mom has always told me that she thinks I would like it though I assumed it would be just a bunch of stuffy paintings of earls, but I was wrong, mixed media and brilliantly concise biographies made it absolutely fascinating), found my favorite bookshop in the world (three floors of travel books), walked Hyde Park, bought tea at Fortnum & Mason and biscuits at Harrods, and ate lots of sushi at shops where they sell it by the piece.

Woke up early on Monday morning to take the tube to the train to Gatwick. I wanted to be there as soon as check in opened so I can stalk Carlitos. His previous flight had arrived about an hour earlier so I figured he would be waiting for the check in to open. But he was not there. I waited for about 20 minutes, then went through security, assuming that he had done the same already. I kept scanning the crowd and looking over my shoulder to make sure he did not see me before I saw him. But I did not see him.

I had never been to Gatwick before and hope not to return again. After security there is an enormous two story holding pen. The shops and seats are below and food above. The gates are only posted about an hour before the flights. So I had to navigate this sea of thousands to try to find Carlitos (without him seeing me first). I circled once, twice, back in the opposite direction, up, around, down, back, near security, near the departures screen, more circles. I was about to give up until the gate, when, after an hour, I spotted him at the end of a row of seats. Perfect, I thought. I will just approach him and say something cheesy like, "Is this seat taken."

But wait, as I approach he starts zipping his bags and is getting up. No! He's getting away. I don't want to shout his name so I walk a bit faster towards him...I'm only 10 feet away...and he looks up. He sees me. He looks surprised, confused, but at the same time relieved. I smile and say something dumb like, "I told you that I would meet you at the airport."

Mission accomplished.

Born to Run?

I seem to be taking on a running theme lately. Please note, I do not like to run. I do it because it is good for me and I like the social aspect. So, in about three weeks I will be running a half marathon in Den Haag. I'm not doing this because I love to run, but because I think it will be fun. I know my logic is not solid. The race is known as the City-Pier-City, because you start in town and run to Scheveningen and back. So I better start running...

On the Run

Bluesfest was this weekend, but I will write about it later, once I get the photos from Julia. Also, I can't really type right now. I decided to (attempt to) be a super athlete today. I rode to TU sportscenter (20 minutes), played some badminton (20 minutes), then volleyball (an hour and a half), and tennis (30 minutes, outdoors, below zero, without gloves). Therefore, I can barely move my fingers and my forearms are crying out in pain. It was worth it, I had so much fun. It was also an attempt to cross train, since I have just committed myself to a half marathon in four weeks...

Spanish Lessons

Last weekend I met Elena and Simon in Barcelona. I didn't actually go there to see them, but to practice my Spanish, and Catalan. No, I went there to meet them, since Elena (aka, Brujita) didn't even give me a chance to practice. But I think it was just a ploy to get me to return. Really, I did practice a bit, but mainly after Elena and Simon left.

Since the trip was a bit last minute, we ended up staying in a one star hotel. We reserved a three bed room but ended up in an apartment with six beds and a kitchen. It was around the corner with a separate entrance. Within the 20 meters between the main entrance and our door there was a bar where the prostitutes and drunks hung out. That corner had lots of girls in their too tight jeans, wobbling in stiletto boots, chatting up the local borrachos. Nothing too unusual. When I was traveling in Africa McHale and occasionally I stayed at hotels that often also rented rooms by the hour. But after my attempted kidnapping in India I seem to have developed a slight paranoia, though that didn't stop me from hiking Montserrat alone. I digress.

Six and a half years ago Ruth and I spent a few days in Barcelona. We went to the Picasso Museum, wandered through Barceloneta, and saw everything Gaudi. This time, we shopped and ate. Correction, I shopped, Elena helped, and Simon patiently critiqued. Hours were spent looking for a jacket. I found a beautiful coat that was in a 34. I needed a 36. We went to four or five shops and the racks were full of 34s. Apparently there was one 36 in the whole city, but my hopes were dashed and it could not be found, even though the stores computer had it in stock. So Elena is looking in Zaragoza for me (I hope). I still managed to find space in my backpack for shirts and chocolates, but no olive oil this time since I didn't check any bags.

Saturday was was wonderful day. We had a fabulous 4PM lunch that lasted until sunset. Walking back to the hostel to drop off our bags we came across a parade. It looked like a belated Carnival celebration with drum troupes and costumed groups. But that was just the beginning. In the morning we had seen some guys carrying what looked like the skeleton of a dragon through town. Going out for drinks that night we saw it again, but this time in another parade. We followed the parade to a square where the dragon and other beasts were laced with fireworks. It was the best thing to stumble upon.

From there we continued walking through the Gothic neighborhood, admiring the Roman walls and jumping from cafe to bar to restaurant, snacking and drinking our way home. I'm a sucker for jamon iberico. It is so delicious and just melts in my mouth and goes so well with a glass of cava. I know I'm a bad Jew, but I'm also one of the pickiest eaters around, so finding something I am willing to try and actually like is a feat that is akin to...to...I don't know, but it's rare.

Mmmm, dinner time. Photos and more stories soon. Maybe. If I don't get too distracted by Bluesfest this weekend...

Proof

I was working on my thesis. Really working. Reading some literature and before I knew what happened I wrote a proof. I don't think I have written one since freshman year of collage. It is to find the volume within a RO element, which isn't difficult, but you need to take into account the angle of the spacer grid. I'm proud of myself. I just hope there is not some glaring error which I overlooked.

Carnival

This year I spent carnival in Maastricht. Apparently, in the north of Holland are the reserved Protestants and in the south are the crazy Catholics. So if you want to celebrate carnival, you go south. We went as far south as one can get in Holland, to Maastricht, which is almost on both the Belgium and German borders. Being a Jew from the great white north (OK, I know that's more of a description of Canada than Chicago but with this weeks snow it can share the claim), I'm still getting used to this carnival thing. It's kind of a mix of Halloween and St. Patrick's Day.

Maastricht is two and a half hours away. So we left here early on Sunday morning (early being relative for a Sunday morning). We arrived in Maastricht around noon and headed straight to the center of town. Everyone was in costume. Everyone except for us. I had nice lei, and later on splurged on a wig, but it was too cold to wear anything but a down jacket, lined pants, and comfortable shoes.

There were two things about the Dutch carnival that surprised me (contrasts with last year in Venice). First, there were families in Maastricht. Most people were in groups of a dozen to 20 where everyone had matching costumes (Smurfs, the Chinese pingpong team, hippies, etc), but also there was just mom, dad, and kids all dressed alike. Considering my second observation, I really didn't expect carnival to be a family day. I don't recall seeing any children in Venice.

Now for the second observation. There was beer. Of course. But it was served in glasses. I guess the premise is that even when the Dutch drink, they are responsible enough not to throw the glasses on the ground (or at each other) but return them to the bar when they are done. At Duke when we had bonfires, the deans walked around handing out plastic cups, at Cubs games you get plastic cups, even at bars in the US you sometimes get plastic cups. But in Holland you get decent cheap beer from the tap in real glasses. And in the main square and on the streets we saw waiters walking around with trays to retrieve glasses that were left out. Usually the trays were almost empty.

We watched the parade in the afternoon and only stayed until dark, since none of us were really in the mood to stand outside drinking beer all night. The parade was nice, but very long and it didn't hold our attention for the hours that it went on. Except I really liked this troupe, the costumes were great, as was the music. For a moment I even believed that bikini and feather clad girls would suddenly samba on over. But they did not.



Maybe next year will be in Brazil. Or Cuenca.

Dijon Postscript

I don't have to share my mustard with Giorgia, she was given her own jars!

Pardon me, would you have any Grey Poupon?

This afternoon I met Giorgia for coffee. She has set up an impromptu office in a cafe in cow square. When I arrived I was hungry, so I ordered some bitterballen, a typical Dutch snack. It is minced meat and starch (maybe mashed potatoes, maybe flour, not quite sure) that is mixed into a goo then covered in breadcrumbs and fried, then typically served with mustard. A tasty snack.

Anyway, I ordered some and they came with some Dijon mustard, and other two unidentifiable sauces, one that looked like purple caviar, the other like wasabi. So I enquired, and they both turned out to be mustards. The purple one was made from grapes and was sweet, while the green one was mixed with herbs. Both delicious. I asked the waitress what they were called and where I could find them. She talked with one of the cooks, then came back with two jars. I thought she was going to just copy the names down, but she told me I could keep them! The purple one (Moutarde au Mout de Raisin) is almost a kilo and practically full and the green one (Verte aux 3 Herbes) is about a third of the size. I was so surprised that I kept on asking if she was sure if I could keep them (of course I will share them with Giorgia). Yum!

Burns' Night

Friday night started off as a nice quiet night. A bit windy, but the prospect of sushi was enough to get me out the door. Unfortunately, the sushi restaurant was full. So we (Alejandro, Giorgia, Maria, Angela, Gaetano, and I) went to a Dutch restaurant in Cow Square that I had been to with my parents. The lamb chops were excellent. After dinner Alejandro and I were feeling a bit lazy, but he had been invited to a Scottish party. He called Jairo, who was there, and he said that they were just sitting around talking and drinking. How boring, I thought. But it was on the way home, so we figured that we would stop by...

When we arrived at Wendy's house (our Scottish English (writing) teacher) we found some friends drinking whiskey and reciting poetry. I felt like I was back in college for a moment. It turns out that January 25th is known as Burns' Night. To celebrate the birthday of the Scottish poet Robert Burns, one reads poetry and drinks whiskey and eats shortbread (we had missed the pudding earlier). So, there was poetry, singing, stories, recipes, and even a game.



Then there was the dancing. The rug was rolled up and the socks and shoes came off. The rest of the evening was spent dizzying ourselves by locking elbows and twirling for eight counts. Unfortunately I do not have authorization to show that video.

Alejandro and I came home around 3AM. The Australian Open was on, so he suggested we watch a bit of tennis. I changed into my pyjamas and dragged my duvet two doors down to his room and made myself comfortable on the floor. I think I fell asleep before the first point was over. I woke up at about 11AM the next day feeling great, except for a dream about teaching snakes how to slither in straight line. I think Burns would have been satisfied.

Googling Home

So, I was just looking at maps. I was trying not to read the papers I have. Anyway, I found out that on Google maps, at least within the US, when you Google your address there are photos of your house. I got to visit my parents house (looks like spring) and my place in the city. I feel like I'm stalking my own house. I can even see my curtains through the window! How strange...

Bindia

The photos of my trip to visit Bin in India are finally up in Part I and Part II. I had a fantastic time there and hope to go back, just not to Nandi Hills...

In Calcutta we stayed with Bin's parents. They had just moved there from Shillong. I was also able to meet Bin's sister and her husband, as well as many friends of his. The brother of one friend was getting married, so we were invited to the wedding. We did not attend the ceremony, but the following day there was a New Year's Eve party at the house of the groom's family. The way the house was decorated made me think I was in a movie. There were flowers everywhere and the view from the rooftop was superb. There was a Rajastani band that played throughout the evening, and we drank and socialized until the early morning.

The next day was the wedding reception. Bin's cousin helped me pick out a sari the day before and the mother of a friend of Bin's dressed me. I felt like I was getting a bed sheet wrapped around me for a toga party (granted, it was a very luxurious and elegant bed sheet). After 20 minutes of folding and tucking I emerged.

The reception was nice, we only got to briefly congratulate the couple. Most time was spent eating. The food was excellent with a buffet of dozens of types of foods, including a curried lobster. The desserts were delightfully sweet and after dinner, instead of an aperitif, I tasted some paan. Paan is a digestive. It is a betel nut paste and some spices enclosed in a betel leaf. One is supposed to eat the whole thing at once, but I was forced to bite it into pieces and chew and suck (the leaf is huge). The party was fantastic, though I was happy to shed my sari when we got home due to my excessive fear of spilling something on it through the entire evening (try to delicately deshell curried lobster without making a mess...it's near impossible).

The Incident

Still in India, now in Bangalore, but head back to Delft tomorrow night. Today is Bin's first day at work so I am sorting out all our photos and buying random things for his new apartment (just moved in on Monday). The holiday was great, except for an incident yesterday...A prime example of a tragedy that does not occur...

First of all, we are both alright, but yesterday we were attacked. We had left the city to do some hiking. There was a bit of confusion between us. I guess that I had neglected to tell Bin that there were stairs and our driver thought that we were crazy to climb the road that went to the top of this hill. So we figured out that we can hike up the road and take the stairs down on the other side. It was 8km of road to the top.

There were some vehicles on the road, a few buses and cars, some motorbikes with couples. Just after 3km a bike with two men on it stopped. Bin and I both thought it was odd that one guy looked like he was covering the license plate with a handkerchief, but we kept walking. Then he started to talk to us, ask where we were from, wanting to shake our hands... we kept walking. We walk a bit faster he walks faster (his friend is sitting on the bike with it in gear) we tell him to leave us alone that we just want to be by ourselves. Then he grabs Bin's hand to try to pull him away and then grabs me around the waist and picks me up like he's going to carry me off...

I scream.

I had no idea I could scream like that. Somehow Bin gets this guy off of me and pulls me away. We stare at the guy for a moment and walk the other way and this guy gets on the bike with his friend and they speed off.

We pondered what to do and then walked back down, never reaching the top. I was terrified. I was really bothered that the didn't even make an attempt for the camera or the watch or the backpack, which means that these guys just wanted me.

We made it back to Bangalore safely. I'm ready to return to Holland.