New York, New York!

Oh New York, how have I missed thee. Ten minutes into being back in the city, I was under a dual pronged cold and wind attack, witnessed a large woman yelling at a cab driver, and sat in a cab that smelled really bad. And I felt like I was home.

I'm not going to lie, most of this week has been spent eating and shopping. I'm staying with one of my best friends for part of the trip, so there has also been a lot of "chin wagging" going on. That's right - apparently I talk so much that I'm considered a "chin wagger". Certain people from the Land of the Queen coined this phrase to specifically be able to describe just how much I talk. One day when I'm done being mad about it, I might even find it amusing.

Anyway, I digress. Due to the fact that I'm only back for ten days, each meal matters. So the day I landed, I went to the nearest Chipotle, had a veggie burrito bowl, and cried in joy after the first bite. After being able to check off one of the food joints off my long list of restaurants, I made my way to Fifth Ave. By this time, the wind had picked up and I was also under the influence of food, so before I knew it, I was walking out of Aerosoles with a pair of boots. I don't quite remember how that happened. One minute I was simultaneously cursing the gods because of the frigid weather and thanking them for inventing Chipotle, and next minute I found myself holding a pair of brown suede boots. I guess god does work in mysterious ways.

The next day, I went to Crate and Barrel with a handy list of 54 items that I needed to buy for my new apartment in Zurich. I ended up buying out pretty much the entire store. I believe they shut down right after I was done because they ran out of everything. In fact, I bought so much stuff that I needed to make three trips to carry it all back to my friend's apartment. I made two trips that day alone, and decided to make the third and final trip the following day.

I went to Macys yesterday, and I kid you not, I just lost it. Do you know just how hard it is to find petite clothing in Europe, where everyone is 800ft. tall? You think solving the economic crisis is challenging? Try being five feet tall in a country where the average woman is 5'8. You will understand devastation. And only when you have experienced such devastation will you truly appreciate the power of Macys. Swimming in a sea of petite sized clothing and hanging out with Michael Kors handbags while coveting Via Spiga shoes was just too much for me to handle. I was walking around the store looking like a freak, with a huge smile plastered on my face. I think I scared all the sales associates at the store. One of them even came up to me and asked me if I was alright. I have lived in New York long enough to realize that no one really smiles here, so I immediately understood her concern and rearranged my face to depict a sulk, which was a much more appropriate look for the city.

After I was done with Macys, I went to Kati Roll (another one of the places from my list) for a quick lunch, and suddenly found myself holding four different dresses in the dressing room at Lord and Taylor. The exact events that led to me getting possession of these clothes are a blur, much like the Aerosoles incident from the night before. By this time, exhaustion was starting to rear its ugly head, but I was determined not to let it win. So I decided to mix it up a little and ended up going to Barnes and Noble for a bit and picked up a few books.

All this culminated in me going to Crate and Barrel to pick up part 3 of my shopping collection. Even the sales associate who brought out the remaining items from the warehouse looked at me in awe. Probably because he was thinking, "how can a tiny person like you POSSIBLY need SO. MUCH. STUFF?" But I like to awe people and boggle their mind, so I just gave him my best mysterious look and left the store with a grand total of 4 bags and 3 boxes. The associate wasn't sure how I'd even make it out of the store with so much stuff. But if there's one thing a woman knows, it's how to shop AND how to haul it all back.

This weekend, I've decided to take a mini-break from shopping, in order to devote all my attention to eating. I am visiting family in Jersey, and have only now recovered from the food coma that I was in for the last three hours. I'm now going to bed to ensure that I have enough sustenance to deal with all the food related plans that I have for tomorrow. Good night, and hope you have a good food-related weekend!

Tell me what you want to hear

I am OBSESSED with this song right now - I can't stop playing it over and over and over again:



Today I went to Julie and Carla's for yet another gluttonic event. If gluttonic is not an adjective, well, it should be one. As I have done in the past, this time I didn't eat anything all day before going over to their place, and as usual, it was SO worth it. About 10-12 women feasted on veggie enchiladas, picco de gallo, avocado-mango salad, some pork thing, beans and nice, cinnamon rolls, and copious amounts of other drinks. At one point, I had to be in the horizontal position for a good fifteen minutes, in order to facilitate breathing, which was restricted because of all the eating.

Once I was able to move into a vertical position again, I rejoined the conversation, which, to my delight, revolved around food. After being completely satiated, we proceeded to play Monopoly, where certain people, who shall not be named, did end up creating monopolies and taking away all the money from the little guys. But not me! I decided to fight against the establishment, and even tried to start a revolution! But I guess everyone else wanted to build houses and hotels and spaceships, so my partner Carla and I had no choice but to join the capitalistic society and build some houses of our own. But after a while, I cried out and said, "Enough! Is this the kind of world that we want to bring our children into, where all people want is MORE? Let's all go back to a simpler time, when we helped each other out, and cared for each other. Let's end this insanity, once an for all, and let people pass by our houses and hotels without having to pay rent." Okay fine, I may have made a couple of bad real estate calls, which may have led to Carla and me getting kicked out of the game. But I'm sure had I survived another round, I would have given the exact speech that I just quoted.

I got over my loss against capitalism by eating cinnamon rolls and having Irish coffee. How I managed to even walk out of their place and get back home, I don't know, but I'm glad I did, because I am currently in a food coma. In fact, I think even typing anything more is difficult, if not impossible, so I'm just going to put an end to this and go to bed. Hope you had a good, food filled weekend!

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 :)

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.