and I
can
be
pretty
dumb,
I will never be dumb enough to pull this. Amen.
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Sunday, August 29, 2010
I love Paris - Part Deux
(...continued from below) The Hummus and fatayer helped me attain inner peace. We walked around aimlessly for miles, and found ourselves at Palais Royale, where a group of street musicians were playing wonderful symphonies of Beethoven and Mozart.
We strolled toward The Louvre, a majestic piece of modern architecture nestled in a histortic neighborhood. I'm more of an architecture person than an art one, and I had already been to Louvre on my last trip to Paris, so we just decided to be tourists and took some pictures of the museum and its surroundings:
We crossed the Seine and walked on Pont Du Carrousel, a wonderful bridge overlooking both left and right bank:
From here on out, I went a little bit insane. Allow me to explain: for the longest time, I've coveted this Burberry handbag. I love the concept of being creative with plaid and am impressed with the number of ways in which they can make it hip. Not to mention, Hermoine asked me to buy Burberry. And we all know that if Hermoine says it's good, then it must be true. So, while we were crossing the bridge, I had an epiphany. I deduced that with the low Dollar-Euro exchange rate, the bag wouldn't be all that expensive.
But we had a situation: I didn't know where the Burberry store was located. So I whipped out my ancient smartphone and looked up the address of the store on the left bank. We found an address on Google, and since google never lies, we trusted it enough to make our way to St. Germaine, where I was assured the store stood. Alas, Google had joined forces with Steve Jobs and conspired against me! For we were at St. Germaine, where we found Chanel, MaxMara, and other stores, but no Hermoine's Burberry. Desolate, I made my way back to the right bank. It was just as well, because I discovered something truly startling in my hunt: Hermoine was no longer the face of Burberry! If they abandon Hermoine, then I abandon them! What I eventually ended up buying in place of the Burberry bag is too traumatic and shocking to be put in writing. Let's just leave it at that.
At night, we had dinner at the Loving Hut, a wonderful Asian vegetarian restaurant, not far from the Bastille. The food was delish, and neither the brother nor I uttered a single word and were focused on the eating the entire time.
We walked to Bastille after dinner, and the monument, in the shadow of the moon, made for a pretty sight:
This is where I explain to you what stood between me and creme brulee: it was my pants. I committed a grave fashion faux pas, you see - I only packed two day dresses. So I was forced to wear pants in the evening and was thus physically unable to indulge in any creme brulee, due to lack of flexibility to stuff anything else in my stomach. Nevertheless, we marched on and continued strolling along Bercy, soaking in wonderful moonlit castles:
and caught sight of the Eiffel Tower towering as a beacon of light and making the city dance in its lights:
You could close your eyes and almost hear the sounds of carriages riding along the river and of street stalls wrapping up for the day, as they would have hundreds of years ago. The night was perfect. Sure, there was a situation where I thought one of the towers of a castle was Eiffel Tower, which earned me a shocked look from my brother, but that's a rookie mistake, right?
The next day, we went back to Sacre Coeur, a beautiful church atop a hill:
And made our way back to Place de la Concorde. We chilled at Jardin des Tuileries where we grabbed a quick lunch, took a nap, and then do the one thing that I had still not done in Paris - have creme brulee. We walked along Rue Rivoli, and I'm proud to let you know that success was met:
This concludes an exhaustive recap of Paris. This post is no shorter than the previous one, in fact, it's even longer, if possible. So if you're reading this and are still awake, I'll just say that if you ever get a chance, do visit Paris, at least once in your lifetime. And let me know if you also feel its magic the way I do. It will make you feel fulfilled and yet will leave you wanting for more. It will transport you to a different world, all the while allowing you to enjoy the convenience of this one. Paris, je t'aime!
We strolled toward The Louvre, a majestic piece of modern architecture nestled in a histortic neighborhood. I'm more of an architecture person than an art one, and I had already been to Louvre on my last trip to Paris, so we just decided to be tourists and took some pictures of the museum and its surroundings:
We crossed the Seine and walked on Pont Du Carrousel, a wonderful bridge overlooking both left and right bank:
From here on out, I went a little bit insane. Allow me to explain: for the longest time, I've coveted this Burberry handbag. I love the concept of being creative with plaid and am impressed with the number of ways in which they can make it hip. Not to mention, Hermoine asked me to buy Burberry. And we all know that if Hermoine says it's good, then it must be true. So, while we were crossing the bridge, I had an epiphany. I deduced that with the low Dollar-Euro exchange rate, the bag wouldn't be all that expensive.
But we had a situation: I didn't know where the Burberry store was located. So I whipped out my ancient smartphone and looked up the address of the store on the left bank. We found an address on Google, and since google never lies, we trusted it enough to make our way to St. Germaine, where I was assured the store stood. Alas, Google had joined forces with Steve Jobs and conspired against me! For we were at St. Germaine, where we found Chanel, MaxMara, and other stores, but no Hermoine's Burberry. Desolate, I made my way back to the right bank. It was just as well, because I discovered something truly startling in my hunt: Hermoine was no longer the face of Burberry! If they abandon Hermoine, then I abandon them! What I eventually ended up buying in place of the Burberry bag is too traumatic and shocking to be put in writing. Let's just leave it at that.
At night, we had dinner at the Loving Hut, a wonderful Asian vegetarian restaurant, not far from the Bastille. The food was delish, and neither the brother nor I uttered a single word and were focused on the eating the entire time.
We walked to Bastille after dinner, and the monument, in the shadow of the moon, made for a pretty sight:
This is where I explain to you what stood between me and creme brulee: it was my pants. I committed a grave fashion faux pas, you see - I only packed two day dresses. So I was forced to wear pants in the evening and was thus physically unable to indulge in any creme brulee, due to lack of flexibility to stuff anything else in my stomach. Nevertheless, we marched on and continued strolling along Bercy, soaking in wonderful moonlit castles:
and caught sight of the Eiffel Tower towering as a beacon of light and making the city dance in its lights:
You could close your eyes and almost hear the sounds of carriages riding along the river and of street stalls wrapping up for the day, as they would have hundreds of years ago. The night was perfect. Sure, there was a situation where I thought one of the towers of a castle was Eiffel Tower, which earned me a shocked look from my brother, but that's a rookie mistake, right?
The next day, we went back to Sacre Coeur, a beautiful church atop a hill:
And made our way back to Place de la Concorde. We chilled at Jardin des Tuileries where we grabbed a quick lunch, took a nap, and then do the one thing that I had still not done in Paris - have creme brulee. We walked along Rue Rivoli, and I'm proud to let you know that success was met:
This concludes an exhaustive recap of Paris. This post is no shorter than the previous one, in fact, it's even longer, if possible. So if you're reading this and are still awake, I'll just say that if you ever get a chance, do visit Paris, at least once in your lifetime. And let me know if you also feel its magic the way I do. It will make you feel fulfilled and yet will leave you wanting for more. It will transport you to a different world, all the while allowing you to enjoy the convenience of this one. Paris, je t'aime!
I love Paris
To quote the great Cole Porter:
Every time I look down on this timeless town
whether blue or gray be her skies.
Whether loud be her cheers or soft be her tears,
more and more do I realize:
I love Paris in the springtime.
I love Paris in the fall.
I love Paris in the winter when it drizzles,
I love Paris in the summer when it sizzles.
I love Paris every moment,
every moment of the year
There's just something about this city that resonates with me. It's hard to explain what, or justify the why. I look forward to walking around and assaulting the locals with my pathetic French, and am still in awe every time I walk on Voie Georges Pompidou or am walking past The Louvre. The buildings and churches and castles never change, but each time I walk past them, I discover something new. Whether it's a missed sculpture, or a particularly unique coffee shop, Paris awakens the dormant explorer in me, and makes me feel like a little kid in a candy store. I can walk around for miles and miles without a care in the world, and even though my feet cry for respite, my mind and heart yearn for more. It's always had a special place in my heart, and if this trip was any indication, it will continue to do so for some time to come.
On my way to Paris, I had decided to blog about this the "right way." I was going to make a note of names and places of all the restaurants where I had a meal, and list all the cafes and do some actual critiquing. The plan was foolproof, I had my ever handy IPod Touch and was making a note of everything both days. But my lifelong aversion to Steve Jobs and everything Apple reared it's ugly head yet again. On my way back form Paris, I realized that my entire notepad had been wiped out, as had all my music. I had a mini breakdown in the train. It was not pretty. There was no knight in shining armor to rescue me either. So details of the Paris trip will not be like I imagined it to be and I'm going to have to wing it. Please send a letter of complaint to Steve Jobs for me, will ya?
I took train out from Zurich to Paris on Friday evening. It was a five hour train ride, with stunning views of rolling green hills and pretty farms along the way. The train pulled into Gare Du Nord at around 9:30 in the evening, and my hunger levels had reached insurmountable heights. The brother met up with me at the station and we walked to the hotel, which was about a five minute walk from the station. My brother tried to make conversation with me, but all I could think and talk about was food. Since the brother has seen the monster that I turn into when denied food, we quickly dropped my bag off at the hotel and made our way to the nearest falafel joint. It was only after devouring an entire falafel and some halloumi and some fatayer did I feel human again. I was exhausted from a busy week at work, so we decided to call it an early night and made our way back to the hotel.
Next morning we woke up reasonably early, and made our way to a pretty decent Crepe place. I've always believed in the saying, "Why have one crepe when you can have two?" and I proceeded to do just that:
Some people double fist on alcohol; I double fist on crepes. That's how I roll. After crepes, we walked around on Rue Lafayette, home to many a stores and smaller cafes. We stopped at a cafe for some coffee and made our way to Place de la Concorde. This is one of the biggest squares in Paris, with sweeping views of The Eiffel Tower, Arc De Triomphe, Jardin des Tuileries, and the Louvre. The weather was perfect, with not a cloud in the sky, and we took at least a dozen pictures around the fountains and of the entire square:
From there, we walked on Champs-Elysees and made our way to Arc de Triomphe - a monument about the Napoleon wars.
The top of the arch lists names of all the soldiers who fought for Napoleon, while the inside lists the names of all the cities and towns Napoleon conquered.
I know all this because of the hired tour guide a.k.a my brother. He was willing to share his fountain of knowledge in exchange for good cafes and crepes. Everyone in my family will work for food. We're cheap that way.
Interesting fact: Did you know that Napoleon was only 5'2? Who says short people can't conquer the world? This gives me hope of one day turning my dreams of world dominion into reality.
The inner child in me that needs to be fed every two hours started to scream for food again, and we began our hunt to find a good place for lunch. Came across a wonderful Mediterranean place, whose name I'd give you, were it not for Steve Jobs. Instead, all I can offer you is a picture of what we ate:
This post is turning into an encyclopedia, so I'm going to continue the rest in a Part II of this post.
Every time I look down on this timeless town
whether blue or gray be her skies.
Whether loud be her cheers or soft be her tears,
more and more do I realize:
I love Paris in the springtime.
I love Paris in the fall.
I love Paris in the winter when it drizzles,
I love Paris in the summer when it sizzles.
I love Paris every moment,
every moment of the year
There's just something about this city that resonates with me. It's hard to explain what, or justify the why. I look forward to walking around and assaulting the locals with my pathetic French, and am still in awe every time I walk on Voie Georges Pompidou or am walking past The Louvre. The buildings and churches and castles never change, but each time I walk past them, I discover something new. Whether it's a missed sculpture, or a particularly unique coffee shop, Paris awakens the dormant explorer in me, and makes me feel like a little kid in a candy store. I can walk around for miles and miles without a care in the world, and even though my feet cry for respite, my mind and heart yearn for more. It's always had a special place in my heart, and if this trip was any indication, it will continue to do so for some time to come.
On my way to Paris, I had decided to blog about this the "right way." I was going to make a note of names and places of all the restaurants where I had a meal, and list all the cafes and do some actual critiquing. The plan was foolproof, I had my ever handy IPod Touch and was making a note of everything both days. But my lifelong aversion to Steve Jobs and everything Apple reared it's ugly head yet again. On my way back form Paris, I realized that my entire notepad had been wiped out, as had all my music. I had a mini breakdown in the train. It was not pretty. There was no knight in shining armor to rescue me either. So details of the Paris trip will not be like I imagined it to be and I'm going to have to wing it. Please send a letter of complaint to Steve Jobs for me, will ya?
I took train out from Zurich to Paris on Friday evening. It was a five hour train ride, with stunning views of rolling green hills and pretty farms along the way. The train pulled into Gare Du Nord at around 9:30 in the evening, and my hunger levels had reached insurmountable heights. The brother met up with me at the station and we walked to the hotel, which was about a five minute walk from the station. My brother tried to make conversation with me, but all I could think and talk about was food. Since the brother has seen the monster that I turn into when denied food, we quickly dropped my bag off at the hotel and made our way to the nearest falafel joint. It was only after devouring an entire falafel and some halloumi and some fatayer did I feel human again. I was exhausted from a busy week at work, so we decided to call it an early night and made our way back to the hotel.
Next morning we woke up reasonably early, and made our way to a pretty decent Crepe place. I've always believed in the saying, "Why have one crepe when you can have two?" and I proceeded to do just that:
Some people double fist on alcohol; I double fist on crepes. That's how I roll. After crepes, we walked around on Rue Lafayette, home to many a stores and smaller cafes. We stopped at a cafe for some coffee and made our way to Place de la Concorde. This is one of the biggest squares in Paris, with sweeping views of The Eiffel Tower, Arc De Triomphe, Jardin des Tuileries, and the Louvre. The weather was perfect, with not a cloud in the sky, and we took at least a dozen pictures around the fountains and of the entire square:
From there, we walked on Champs-Elysees and made our way to Arc de Triomphe - a monument about the Napoleon wars.
The top of the arch lists names of all the soldiers who fought for Napoleon, while the inside lists the names of all the cities and towns Napoleon conquered.
I know all this because of the hired tour guide a.k.a my brother. He was willing to share his fountain of knowledge in exchange for good cafes and crepes. Everyone in my family will work for food. We're cheap that way.
Interesting fact: Did you know that Napoleon was only 5'2? Who says short people can't conquer the world? This gives me hope of one day turning my dreams of world dominion into reality.
The inner child in me that needs to be fed every two hours started to scream for food again, and we began our hunt to find a good place for lunch. Came across a wonderful Mediterranean place, whose name I'd give you, were it not for Steve Jobs. Instead, all I can offer you is a picture of what we ate:
This post is turning into an encyclopedia, so I'm going to continue the rest in a Part II of this post.
Saturday, August 28, 2010
Progress!
I'm finally done sorting the 503242 pictures that I took in Paris. On a Saturday night, instead of going out like the rest of the world, I'm holed up in the apartment doing this. If this doesn't prove my love for you, I don't know what will. And don't listen to those pesky rumors flying around about exhaustion and food coma being the real reason why I'm home today. It's all lies, I tell you, LIES! I'll be back tomorrow to write about it. Meanwhile, here's a taste of what's to come:
I absolutely love this picture, because it reminds me of the timeless nature of Paris. When you walk around, you can visualize how life must have been 50, 100, 500 years ago. But more on that tomorrow. For now, I'm going to be like a grandmother and go to bed at 10. On a Saturday night. Somebody please slap me.
I absolutely love this picture, because it reminds me of the timeless nature of Paris. When you walk around, you can visualize how life must have been 50, 100, 500 years ago. But more on that tomorrow. For now, I'm going to be like a grandmother and go to bed at 10. On a Saturday night. Somebody please slap me.
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Facebook "Like" of the week
"Inside me lives a skinny woman crying to get out...but I can usually shut the bitch up with cookies."
This week is killing me, but I'm hoping to be slightly less dead on Sunday and finally blog about Paris. Right now, my knee pain is back, my tooth hurts, and I'm googling "how to make your ear pop" because my left ear has been blocked since Monday. Now you understand why I had to finish a pint of ice cream this week? Hope you're all having a better week than I am!
This week is killing me, but I'm hoping to be slightly less dead on Sunday and finally blog about Paris. Right now, my knee pain is back, my tooth hurts, and I'm googling "how to make your ear pop" because my left ear has been blocked since Monday. Now you understand why I had to finish a pint of ice cream this week? Hope you're all having a better week than I am!
Monday, August 23, 2010
Paris details
are on their way, but you'll have to wait until the weekend to hear about the crepe consumption, the thing that stood between me and creme brulee, and about taking a nap in Jardin des Tuileries. Meanwhile, here's a high level summary of the entire weekend:
Thursday, August 19, 2010
Off to Paris for the weekend...
...but before I go, here's a rundown of all the things I did in London last weekend:
Reunited with my sweetheart:
Yes, this is nothing but a good oldfashioned mall. With escalators and more than five stores and food stalls and everything. Oh, how I have missed thee! I'm not much of a shopper, but whenever things were down, I'd always find solace int eh mall. Often, I wouldn't even buy anything, but just watching teens line up outside Hollister and continuing my quest to find Petite clothes that fit me always made me feel that everything will be alright in the world. Alas, Switzerland may have Alps and cows and beauty, but it doesn't have malls! So it was time for much needed retail therapy. I went to the Westfield mall in West London and basically walked around for three hours. I exited the mall and made my way to:
Leicester Square:
It's a really nice square, very close to Covent Garden, and a Mecca for food, movie, and theater buffs like me. I had drinks with a friend and we went for dinner to the most amazingly fantabulous Indian Restaurant called Masala Zone. In the past, I have often had heated discussions on the lack of authenticity in the Indian food in London, but after having dinner here, I take it all back. The food was authentic Indian food, more from the western part of India. All of us had a Thali, which looked like this:
I loved this restaurant chain so much that I went to each one of their locations over the weekend. Everyday, I had dinner at a different location. I did takeout from their Soho location Saturday night, and after placing my order, the guy at the counter asked me if this order was for two people or three, so he could provide that many plates and utensils. I didn't have the heart to tell him that it was all for just one person, so I said it was for two people. Yes, I realize normal people don't do these things. But if there's anything you know about me by now, then it is the fact that I'm not quite normal.
Flower Market and more food:
On Sunday, my friend T, with whom I was staying, met up with another friend D, and all of us went to the Columbia Flower Market, which is very close to where T lives. I love flowers, so I just walked around taking in the smells and the scents, and of course, some pictures:
We then briefly stopped by at a kids' birthday party, but since I'm secretly afraid of kids, I just went there for some cake, and D and I left as soon as I had consumed a piece. We walked around Oxford Street, Regent Street, and Piccadilly Circus. It just felt so good to be in a big city, surrounded by rude people, where you weren't the only person in the entire country who was jay walking.
D and I had dinner at Masala Zone one last time, and we met up with T and walked from Covent Garden to London Bridge, just talking about food and life and the veritable lack of hot men on this planet. It was a great trip; I caught up with many of my friends whom I hadn't seen in a while, shopped, ate, ate, ate. And now I'm off to Paris to eat some more! Crepes, here I come :)
Reunited with my sweetheart:
Yes, this is nothing but a good oldfashioned mall. With escalators and more than five stores and food stalls and everything. Oh, how I have missed thee! I'm not much of a shopper, but whenever things were down, I'd always find solace int eh mall. Often, I wouldn't even buy anything, but just watching teens line up outside Hollister and continuing my quest to find Petite clothes that fit me always made me feel that everything will be alright in the world. Alas, Switzerland may have Alps and cows and beauty, but it doesn't have malls! So it was time for much needed retail therapy. I went to the Westfield mall in West London and basically walked around for three hours. I exited the mall and made my way to:
Leicester Square:
It's a really nice square, very close to Covent Garden, and a Mecca for food, movie, and theater buffs like me. I had drinks with a friend and we went for dinner to the most amazingly fantabulous Indian Restaurant called Masala Zone. In the past, I have often had heated discussions on the lack of authenticity in the Indian food in London, but after having dinner here, I take it all back. The food was authentic Indian food, more from the western part of India. All of us had a Thali, which looked like this:
I loved this restaurant chain so much that I went to each one of their locations over the weekend. Everyday, I had dinner at a different location. I did takeout from their Soho location Saturday night, and after placing my order, the guy at the counter asked me if this order was for two people or three, so he could provide that many plates and utensils. I didn't have the heart to tell him that it was all for just one person, so I said it was for two people. Yes, I realize normal people don't do these things. But if there's anything you know about me by now, then it is the fact that I'm not quite normal.
Flower Market and more food:
On Sunday, my friend T, with whom I was staying, met up with another friend D, and all of us went to the Columbia Flower Market, which is very close to where T lives. I love flowers, so I just walked around taking in the smells and the scents, and of course, some pictures:
We then briefly stopped by at a kids' birthday party, but since I'm secretly afraid of kids, I just went there for some cake, and D and I left as soon as I had consumed a piece. We walked around Oxford Street, Regent Street, and Piccadilly Circus. It just felt so good to be in a big city, surrounded by rude people, where you weren't the only person in the entire country who was jay walking.
D and I had dinner at Masala Zone one last time, and we met up with T and walked from Covent Garden to London Bridge, just talking about food and life and the veritable lack of hot men on this planet. It was a great trip; I caught up with many of my friends whom I hadn't seen in a while, shopped, ate, ate, ate. And now I'm off to Paris to eat some more! Crepes, here I come :)
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
It's a Hard Life
This week was supposed to be all about London and what I did there and what I ate. I figured the Land Of the Queen deserved more than one post. But things happened, as things tend to, that lead me to alter my agenda a little bit. For today is the day that I introduced a whole new set of people to the horrors of my gluttony. My friend Julie had organized a dinner for, get this, 22, that's right, TWENTY-TWO women, at my favorite(and perhaps, the only) Ethiopian restaurant in Zurich. As I am an idiot wrapped in a moron, I got lost on my way to the restaurant, even though I have been there numerous times now. Julie and Carla were standing out on the street trying to spot me. This is why I wore a bright red jacket today; I knew something like this would happen that would require me to be spotted from space. We finally united and I made my merry way into the restaurant.
The fellow vegetarians in attendance united and formed our own front. We were a varied bunch, from U.S., Canada, Germany, and Sweden. It was a great group of people and good conversation was had, with much of it centering around food, to my delight. You all remember what happened the last time I went to this restaurant. Well, this time, I decided to take it up a notch. So we got two servings, yes, two servings, of this:
When I finally stopped eating, as usual, I couldn't breath due to the food coma. I almost wanted to lie down on the couch and find the will to move again. Julie did an absolutely wonderful job organizing everything and the company was exceptional. I also caught up a bit with Jenny, whom I met on my disastrous bike trip back when I first moved here. After she was done playing hostess, I had her look at my knee, which was bothering me. She moonlights as a knee expert, so I'd highly recommend that you solicit her services when required. She did some complicated looking things with my knee and concluded that I may have some tendon inflammation in my right knee.
I don't really know what could be the cause of this knee inflammation - the only thing I can conclude is that maybe leaping across the table to get the last bite chocolate before someone else ate it may not have helped the situation. I've been asked to lie down, wrap an icepack around my knee, and perch it at an angle such that it's above my heart. So here I am, in a comically awkward position, with my laptop in my lap (but not really), looking like I'm doing more acrobats than those at a circus. Thank you, I'll be here all week.
The fellow vegetarians in attendance united and formed our own front. We were a varied bunch, from U.S., Canada, Germany, and Sweden. It was a great group of people and good conversation was had, with much of it centering around food, to my delight. You all remember what happened the last time I went to this restaurant. Well, this time, I decided to take it up a notch. So we got two servings, yes, two servings, of this:
When I finally stopped eating, as usual, I couldn't breath due to the food coma. I almost wanted to lie down on the couch and find the will to move again. Julie did an absolutely wonderful job organizing everything and the company was exceptional. I also caught up a bit with Jenny, whom I met on my disastrous bike trip back when I first moved here. After she was done playing hostess, I had her look at my knee, which was bothering me. She moonlights as a knee expert, so I'd highly recommend that you solicit her services when required. She did some complicated looking things with my knee and concluded that I may have some tendon inflammation in my right knee.
I don't really know what could be the cause of this knee inflammation - the only thing I can conclude is that maybe leaping across the table to get the last bite chocolate before someone else ate it may not have helped the situation. I've been asked to lie down, wrap an icepack around my knee, and perch it at an angle such that it's above my heart. So here I am, in a comically awkward position, with my laptop in my lap (but not really), looking like I'm doing more acrobats than those at a circus. Thank you, I'll be here all week.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Gatwick Airport - Stuff that nightmares are made of
Whenever a little kid refuses to eat his veggies, his mom probably tells him, "Have your veggies, or you will be forced to fly into Gatwick airport the next time you go to London". I had heard stories about this, but after flying into Gatwick this time around, I am convinced of their authenticity. By the time I landed in Gatwick on Thursday night, hunger had started to hum. As a result, I was already a bit disoriented. And we all know what kinds of things happen when I'm hungry. On top of all this, many of the exits from the Gatwick terminal to the Shuttle were closed, and the Detour signs were unclear, to say the least. I ended up going through Baggage claim and customs at least twice. And I didn't even check-in any bags! I had that vacant look that people get in their eyes when they go to watch The Predator and find out that Adrian Brody only took his shirt off once. You begin to question your very existence. Fortunately, before the questioning got too intense, I found my way to the shuttle and then to the train station to take the Express train to my friend's place in East London.
Aforementioned hunger made me buy a Same Day return Ticket from Gatwick to London bridge. Yes, Same day. Apparently my hungry mind decided that riding the Gatwick express back and forth would be an ideal way to resolve my hunger issues. At the train station, I saw something marvelous: I saw Subway. Yes, the fast-food chain. It has been exactly 4.5 months since I last saw one of these. I just stood outside in adoration of the store for a good five minutes. Who knew I'd get so sentimental over limp lettuce and canned olives? I wanted to grab a sandwich before I boarded the train, but the display kept blinking at me and informed me that the arrival of the train was imminent. I rushed to the platform, only to find another blinking display - this one announcing that the train was delayed by 20 minutes. I wanted to rail against the gods and ask, "Why, god, why?" Alternatively, I could also have run back to the Subway stand and bought my sub, but the thought of lugging my carry-on up and down non-escalated stairs didn't sound too appealing at the time.
By the time I made it to London Bridge, I was blinded by hunger. Literally blinded for two seconds, but then I realized it's because I had closed my eyes. I grabbed a cab and made my way to my friend's place. I made the cab driver drop me a block away from their home because I spotted an Indian restaurant and wanted to grab some take-out before I went over to their place. Most people bring gifts to the people they are visiting. But I don't follow any such norms. Me, I took take-out. For myself. Before I went to their place. My friend T was out of town that night but her husband S let me in. Instead of making conversation and catching up with him, the first words out of my mouth were, "Hi S! So good to see you!! I'm very hungry and desperately need to eat right away!" I then proceeded to make him watch me wolf down some Naan and curry. In between the chomping I'd come up for some air and mumble something at him in an attempt to make conversation, but such was my hunger that my eyes didn't even leave my dinner plate until everything was swept clean. Never let it be said that I don't give my hundred percent to anything that I do.
S, who was probably in shock and awe, had plans to leave early the next morning and went to get some sleep. Poor bloke probably had nightmares about a crazy houseguest who ate all their food. Satiated, I switched the TV on, and found English channels! For these three days, I wouldn't have to watch Castle in German, or Monk in Italian, or CSI in French - all the shows and channels were in English. I cried a few tears of joy and watched some NCIS before I went off to bed. Tomorrow, I introduce you to my lovah...
Aforementioned hunger made me buy a Same Day return Ticket from Gatwick to London bridge. Yes, Same day. Apparently my hungry mind decided that riding the Gatwick express back and forth would be an ideal way to resolve my hunger issues. At the train station, I saw something marvelous: I saw Subway. Yes, the fast-food chain. It has been exactly 4.5 months since I last saw one of these. I just stood outside in adoration of the store for a good five minutes. Who knew I'd get so sentimental over limp lettuce and canned olives? I wanted to grab a sandwich before I boarded the train, but the display kept blinking at me and informed me that the arrival of the train was imminent. I rushed to the platform, only to find another blinking display - this one announcing that the train was delayed by 20 minutes. I wanted to rail against the gods and ask, "Why, god, why?" Alternatively, I could also have run back to the Subway stand and bought my sub, but the thought of lugging my carry-on up and down non-escalated stairs didn't sound too appealing at the time.
By the time I made it to London Bridge, I was blinded by hunger. Literally blinded for two seconds, but then I realized it's because I had closed my eyes. I grabbed a cab and made my way to my friend's place. I made the cab driver drop me a block away from their home because I spotted an Indian restaurant and wanted to grab some take-out before I went over to their place. Most people bring gifts to the people they are visiting. But I don't follow any such norms. Me, I took take-out. For myself. Before I went to their place. My friend T was out of town that night but her husband S let me in. Instead of making conversation and catching up with him, the first words out of my mouth were, "Hi S! So good to see you!! I'm very hungry and desperately need to eat right away!" I then proceeded to make him watch me wolf down some Naan and curry. In between the chomping I'd come up for some air and mumble something at him in an attempt to make conversation, but such was my hunger that my eyes didn't even leave my dinner plate until everything was swept clean. Never let it be said that I don't give my hundred percent to anything that I do.
S, who was probably in shock and awe, had plans to leave early the next morning and went to get some sleep. Poor bloke probably had nightmares about a crazy houseguest who ate all their food. Satiated, I switched the TV on, and found English channels! For these three days, I wouldn't have to watch Castle in German, or Monk in Italian, or CSI in French - all the shows and channels were in English. I cried a few tears of joy and watched some NCIS before I went off to bed. Tomorrow, I introduce you to my lovah...
Monday, August 16, 2010
Aaaand I'm back!
I'm back from London; had an amazing time there! It's a LOT different from what it used to be about four years ago, when I lived there for a few months. Overall, it just felt so damn good to be in a big, English-as-the-main-language city, full of hustle and bustle, and feel the beat of a big city once again. I've got loads to share, but I need to unpack, do laundry, eat, watch True Blood, watch Mad Men, have a long debate about whether or not I want to have dessert, probably end up having some dessert, and do the dishes, before I can really talk about the trip. In the mean time, one of these things didn't happen on the trip - I'll let you try and figure out which one it was:
1) I did takeout before I even reached my friend's apartment in London
2) I got a papercut on my arm
3) When doing takeout, I was asked, "Is this for two people or three?"
4) I had to wake up at 3:30am to catch the first flight back to Zurich and go to work
5) I hugged clothes in the Petite section in stores
6) I finally turned down an offer of food
Will either be back later today or most likely tomorrow with the first snippets. Until then, keep guessin'!
UPDATE: I JUST WATCHED LAST NIGHT'S EPISODE OF TRUE BLOOD AND I AM @#$%$^%$. THIS SHOW HAS TAKEN AWAY MY ABILITY TO TYPE IN LOWER CAPS. HOLY COW. WHAT AN EPISODE. SUFFICE TO SAY, DETAILS ABOUT LONDON WILL HAVE TO WAIT. WOW.
1) I did takeout before I even reached my friend's apartment in London
2) I got a papercut on my arm
3) When doing takeout, I was asked, "Is this for two people or three?"
4) I had to wake up at 3:30am to catch the first flight back to Zurich and go to work
5) I hugged clothes in the Petite section in stores
6) I finally turned down an offer of food
Will either be back later today or most likely tomorrow with the first snippets. Until then, keep guessin'!
UPDATE: I JUST WATCHED LAST NIGHT'S EPISODE OF TRUE BLOOD AND I AM @#$%$^%$. THIS SHOW HAS TAKEN AWAY MY ABILITY TO TYPE IN LOWER CAPS. HOLY COW. WHAT AN EPISODE. SUFFICE TO SAY, DETAILS ABOUT LONDON WILL HAVE TO WAIT. WOW.
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Busy, busy, busy...
I'm having a busy few weeks, so posting will be minimal at best. The schedule has been somewhat like this: had a brunch for 10 people at my place over the weekend, meeting various people for dinners this week, and then off to London on Thursday for the weekend. I promise to come back with details about the trip and about the insanities that ensued while there. Until then, I'd like to leave you with this exchange that I had with a friend at work:
Me: I'm thinking of cutting down on the dessert.
Friend: NO you can't do that! You will make life extremely difficult for all of us. At the moment, if we eat dessert, we always think "oh, it's ok, Jigz has probably eaten more dessert than me today" and then carry on munching. What are we supposed to do if you cut down on your dessert consumption?
So there you have it. I must continue eating dessert for the betterment of mankind. Remember, you heard it here first.
Me: I'm thinking of cutting down on the dessert.
Friend: NO you can't do that! You will make life extremely difficult for all of us. At the moment, if we eat dessert, we always think "oh, it's ok, Jigz has probably eaten more dessert than me today" and then carry on munching. What are we supposed to do if you cut down on your dessert consumption?
So there you have it. I must continue eating dessert for the betterment of mankind. Remember, you heard it here first.
Saturday, August 7, 2010
To smell or not to smell
Summer is a beautiful season. It brings out flowers and the green and fun skirts and dresses, and...some men who don't use deodorant and wear wife-beaters. This is not only an assault to the eyes but also to the olfactory. This assault is exacerbated when you're on a tram, and you begin to dread the moment someone lifts their arms up to hold on to the railing. You pray to every god, wishing and hoping that they wore deodorant. Sometimes god obliges, sometimes he doesn't. When he doesn't, you feel like you are doomed to a lifetime of disappointment.
I went through such an experience just last week. I was on the tram, on my way back from work. Halfway through the ride, there was a strange stench that filled the tram. My nostrils lodged a protest and immediately shut down. My quest to find the source of the stench brought me to to a wannabe-rockstar-but-couldn't-ever-be-one guy wearing a wife-beater and sporting a wonderful beer belly, lifting his arms up to hold on to the railing. I doubt he knew the devastating impact such an act would have on society as a whole. You could almost see the fumes emanating from under his arms. This is disgusting, I know, but if I get to live through it, you get to read about it.
The entire tram must have felt the waves of stench, and it ended up being each man for himself, because I kid you not, we ended up losing people at every tram stop. Within three stops, almost everyone was off the tram, with the look of fear on their faces, and tears in their eyes. I stuck around for one more stop, but then abandoned ship and leaped out of the tram before the doors closed. There was no time to warn unsuspecting on-boarders of what awaited them inside the tram. I just hope they made it out okay. Maybe one day we'll run into each other and reminisce about this shared torture that we went through. But for now, I'm armed with Febfreeze and am ready to launch my counterattack on any tram at a moment's notice. "They may take our lives, but they will NEVER TAKE OUR FREEDOM!!!"
I went through such an experience just last week. I was on the tram, on my way back from work. Halfway through the ride, there was a strange stench that filled the tram. My nostrils lodged a protest and immediately shut down. My quest to find the source of the stench brought me to to a wannabe-rockstar-but-couldn't-ever-be-one guy wearing a wife-beater and sporting a wonderful beer belly, lifting his arms up to hold on to the railing. I doubt he knew the devastating impact such an act would have on society as a whole. You could almost see the fumes emanating from under his arms. This is disgusting, I know, but if I get to live through it, you get to read about it.
The entire tram must have felt the waves of stench, and it ended up being each man for himself, because I kid you not, we ended up losing people at every tram stop. Within three stops, almost everyone was off the tram, with the look of fear on their faces, and tears in their eyes. I stuck around for one more stop, but then abandoned ship and leaped out of the tram before the doors closed. There was no time to warn unsuspecting on-boarders of what awaited them inside the tram. I just hope they made it out okay. Maybe one day we'll run into each other and reminisce about this shared torture that we went through. But for now, I'm armed with Febfreeze and am ready to launch my counterattack on any tram at a moment's notice. "They may take our lives, but they will NEVER TAKE OUR FREEDOM!!!"
Thursday, August 5, 2010
I'll Stand By You
When I started this blog, I decided that it would be a non-political one. Those of you who have known me for a while know that I have very *ahem* strong opinions on all things political. So if I started talking politics here, this could quickly derail into just another political blog, and the idea of talking about Zurich and my experiences here would be nothing but a distant memory.
But something pretty monumental happened today that I think deserves a mention. Prop 8, an intensely discriminatory ballot initiative that was voted into law in California has been ruled unconstitutional. As someone who has long propagated equal rights for all human beings, regardless of their race, religion, gender, and orientation, you can imagine how happy this makes me feel. In fact, I was so happy this morning that I decided to be a good girl only had one lunch. And one dinner. I just hope that people finally do the right thing and realize that discrimination under the veil of moral outrage and societal concerns is still discrimination.
In honor of this decision, I'm going to share a story with you that I absolutely, positively, never wanted anyone to be aware of. But such is my joy that I am going to reverse my decision and post it, for your amusement, as always:
During my first couple of weeks in Zurich, I went to Blue Monkey, a really good Thai restaurant for dinner with some colleagues who are visiting from New York. The restaurant itself was one of the better places I had been to here in Zurich. Food was good, conversation was interesting. As usual, I zoned out when I was getting intimately acquainted with my green curry and fried rice, so details of the conversation, of course, cannot be recalled. I do remember that at the end of the meal, we were satiated, and decided to forgo dessert (a heartbreaking decision for me, but I was outvoted). The waitress started to clear the table, and in the process, took a burning candle off the table and promptly poured a generous amount of melted wax on my wonderful and recently washed black pants. I watched the whole thing happen in slow motion, certain that the wax wouldn't find itself attached to my pants. But oh how wrong was I!
Now I don't know about you, but having a huge blob of melted wax covering a majority of your pants doesn't exactly scream "fashion". At first, everyone at the table was in shock. Then everyone started laughing. Actually, they didn't laugh out loud, but I'm sure in their head they were cracking up. The waitress profusely apologized and confessed that that day was her first day at work. I felt bad and decided not to demand free dessert, which I totally deserved. I covered the white on black with a tablecloth while we were seated, and wore my overcoat as soon as we got up to leave. I was clutching the overcoat so tightly around me, you'd think I had a million dollars hiding underneath it. Instead, I was hiding melted wax on black pants.
Tell me honestly - do you know anyone else who had hot wax poured on their black pants at a restaurant? Why do such things only happen to me - and that too on a global level? What have I done to deserve such things? Let us together find an answer, for I cannot solve this mystery alone.
But something pretty monumental happened today that I think deserves a mention. Prop 8, an intensely discriminatory ballot initiative that was voted into law in California has been ruled unconstitutional. As someone who has long propagated equal rights for all human beings, regardless of their race, religion, gender, and orientation, you can imagine how happy this makes me feel. In fact, I was so happy this morning that I decided to be a good girl only had one lunch. And one dinner. I just hope that people finally do the right thing and realize that discrimination under the veil of moral outrage and societal concerns is still discrimination.
In honor of this decision, I'm going to share a story with you that I absolutely, positively, never wanted anyone to be aware of. But such is my joy that I am going to reverse my decision and post it, for your amusement, as always:
During my first couple of weeks in Zurich, I went to Blue Monkey, a really good Thai restaurant for dinner with some colleagues who are visiting from New York. The restaurant itself was one of the better places I had been to here in Zurich. Food was good, conversation was interesting. As usual, I zoned out when I was getting intimately acquainted with my green curry and fried rice, so details of the conversation, of course, cannot be recalled. I do remember that at the end of the meal, we were satiated, and decided to forgo dessert (a heartbreaking decision for me, but I was outvoted). The waitress started to clear the table, and in the process, took a burning candle off the table and promptly poured a generous amount of melted wax on my wonderful and recently washed black pants. I watched the whole thing happen in slow motion, certain that the wax wouldn't find itself attached to my pants. But oh how wrong was I!
Now I don't know about you, but having a huge blob of melted wax covering a majority of your pants doesn't exactly scream "fashion". At first, everyone at the table was in shock. Then everyone started laughing. Actually, they didn't laugh out loud, but I'm sure in their head they were cracking up. The waitress profusely apologized and confessed that that day was her first day at work. I felt bad and decided not to demand free dessert, which I totally deserved. I covered the white on black with a tablecloth while we were seated, and wore my overcoat as soon as we got up to leave. I was clutching the overcoat so tightly around me, you'd think I had a million dollars hiding underneath it. Instead, I was hiding melted wax on black pants.
Tell me honestly - do you know anyone else who had hot wax poured on their black pants at a restaurant? Why do such things only happen to me - and that too on a global level? What have I done to deserve such things? Let us together find an answer, for I cannot solve this mystery alone.
Monday, August 2, 2010
"I never thought I was smart enough to get depressed, but here I am."
Is anyone else watching True Blood this season? If you are, then the title of this post will make complete sense to you. If you're not, then I just want to let you know that I am not depressed. Sad about living in a currently ice-creamless apartment, but definitely not depressed.True Blood keeps blowing me away on a regular basis. I laugh, cringe, swoon, salivate, and get grossed out all at the same time. Can't wait for next week's episode!
This weekend was amazing, food-wise (going forward, just remember, if something is amazing, it's most likely due to a food related activity). Fellow True Bloodies (Blooders?) Julie and Carla hosted a housewarming party at their place this weekend. Since I've sampled their cooking before, I most certainly didn't want to be in a situation where I'd show up and all the food was gone, so I came up with a strategy: I decided to show up at their place well in advance, under the pretext of "helping them out." And boy am I glad I did that. There were three different kinds of empanadas, amazing chili cheese enchiladas, corn salsa, pico de gallo, roasted red pepper and garlic hummus, chocolate chip cookies, an assortment of meat dishes, and sangria. This is what the spread looked like, and the reason why I had to employ my strategy of showing up early:
Here's the roasted red pepper and garlic hummus, veggies, and pico de gallo:
The rest of the evening was also a lot of fun. I'd love to give you details about the guests and share some interesting anecdotes, but I was basically in a food coma approximately sixty minutes after I got to their place. In fact, the coma got so bad at one point that I physically couldn't stand and had to lie down on their couch. Yes, I have to lie down on couches now because I can't control my eating.
I reluctantly made my way back way too early, which, in my heart I knew it was the right thing to do, for the eating would not have stopped any other way. As it was, I woke up in the middle of the night thinking how full I was. But it was worth it. My only regret: I forgot to take leftovers back with me. I cried the entire train ride back. You may think I'm exaggerating, but I really did. Little children ran away in fear. Oh well, it was worth it. Now if only I can get myself to stop dreaming about the cookies...
This weekend was amazing, food-wise (going forward, just remember, if something is amazing, it's most likely due to a food related activity). Fellow True Bloodies (Blooders?) Julie and Carla hosted a housewarming party at their place this weekend. Since I've sampled their cooking before, I most certainly didn't want to be in a situation where I'd show up and all the food was gone, so I came up with a strategy: I decided to show up at their place well in advance, under the pretext of "helping them out." And boy am I glad I did that. There were three different kinds of empanadas, amazing chili cheese enchiladas, corn salsa, pico de gallo, roasted red pepper and garlic hummus, chocolate chip cookies, an assortment of meat dishes, and sangria. This is what the spread looked like, and the reason why I had to employ my strategy of showing up early:
Here's the roasted red pepper and garlic hummus, veggies, and pico de gallo:
The rest of the evening was also a lot of fun. I'd love to give you details about the guests and share some interesting anecdotes, but I was basically in a food coma approximately sixty minutes after I got to their place. In fact, the coma got so bad at one point that I physically couldn't stand and had to lie down on their couch. Yes, I have to lie down on couches now because I can't control my eating.
I reluctantly made my way back way too early, which, in my heart I knew it was the right thing to do, for the eating would not have stopped any other way. As it was, I woke up in the middle of the night thinking how full I was. But it was worth it. My only regret: I forgot to take leftovers back with me. I cried the entire train ride back. You may think I'm exaggerating, but I really did. Little children ran away in fear. Oh well, it was worth it. Now if only I can get myself to stop dreaming about the cookies...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
