#(my only german i know is how to say 'i am a potato salad' so idk)

[givemethedamnflowers]

One thing that always fucked with my head is aftg is how they manage to keep their languages skills with barely any practice

The vocabulary the pronunciation how to form a sentence how to conjugate a verb theese fly out the window real fast when you dont pratice

[bopinion]

2021 / 29

Aperçu of the Week:

"You can tell a person's character by the jokes he laughs at."

Alfred Biolek

Biolek is a veteran of German television. In the 1970s, he produced the most successful TV show, "Am laufenden Band," and then he was in front of the camera himself: first talking and hosting, later also cooking, in each case as the first (!) in his field. Thanks to him, people in this country know Monty Python and The Police, for example. A great man, a star without airs and graces, an innovator and cultural leader, a man who was never prejudiced, never unfair, always in a good mood, always interested, never superficial, always friendly, who stood by his homosexuality - at a time when it was still considered disreputable, not only in his industry. I had the privilege of meeting him almost 30 years ago, as we both shared a valuable experience as exchange students with AFS. Dr. Alfred Franz Maria Biolek died yesterday in Cologne at the age of 87. Rest in peace!

Bad News of the Week:

The fourth wave is coming. It's already there in the UK and Spain. In France and Italy, the values are still (reasonably) low, but the growth is rapid. Thanks to the delta mutant, formerly known as the Indian. Here, everyone is watching spellbound for the infamous "7-day incidence," which so far has been slow to increase. That's about to change. Especially because the longed-for herd immunity will remain a utopia - because immunization above 85% is impossible if all children and adolescents are not considered for vaccination. And more and more so-called skeptics refuse - whereby an obligation to vaccinate would be an immense encroachment on fundamental rights, the justification of which is difficult. But is there a fundamental right to ignorance? I'm torn apart...

What is currently taking place in the UK is a large-scale medical experiment. Not under expert supervision in a laboratory, but completely detached in public. All Corona protections such as mask wearing or social distancing have been completely removed. At a time when the incidence is approaching 500 - the highest since the all-time high in January. In our country, it's under 15, and we're worrying about how to organize the start of school after the summer vacations. And Boris Johnson basically says to that, "Why not now? When then?". Well, for example, when the vaccination campaign is more advanced and the numbers are lower. But he'll know what he's doing - even if it's irresponsible. Let's see how British voters will remember this decision in his upcoming re-election.

But this is not the only area where the British government lacks logic in Corona measures. A work colleague of mine is Irish and was supposed to visit his mother next week. But she lives in Northern Ireland. Since he already has full vaccination protection, he didn't expect any problems - and now he would have to spend ten days in a quarantine hotel without being allowed to see his mother. That's over 70% of his total two-week stay. The reasoning is remarkable: according to British regulations, he is considered unvaccinated because a vaccination in an EU country is not recognized. Although it is the same vaccine in the same dose in the same schedule. But the stamp in his vaccination certificate is just the wrong one.

Good News of the Week:

"Pragmatism and melancholy" is the Tagesschau's headline about Angela Merkel's last federal press conference - a kind of forum for free questions from journalists - as chancellor in Berlin. After all, she will not be running again in the federal elections in just under two months. It was therefore not surprising that, in addition to current political issues, many media representatives primarily took stock of Merkel's 16-year term in office. The financial and the euro crisis, nuclear and coal phase-out, the EU and China, Corona and digitization, and so on. Life without crises is easier, but when they are there, they have to be dealt with, Merkel replied to the question of whether she felt flattered by the title "crisis chancellor." After all, last week U.S. President Joe Biden, another old hand in world politics, had remarked that she would be missed.

In an interview today, climate activist Luisa Neubauer, the German face of "Fridays for Future," accuses Merkel of not tackling the climate crisis in the proactive manner that is her style in other crises. Although this one is by far the biggest and most urgent. One might add, even though Merkel was once environment minister. And seems to overlook two things: first, nuclear and coal phase-out ultimately serve climate protection. And secondly, there is no patent remedy, no reference, no example, no role model. Perhaps that's the point: who should be able to tackle the issue in a decisive way if not someone who is internationally acknowledged, respected across party lines, unpretentious and without any self-interest, scientifically sound, moderating and balancing, pragmatic and energetic? So who, if not Merkel?

Dr. Angela Dorothea Merkel turned 67 two weeks ago. Unlike Helmut Kohl - the other chancellor who ruled for what felt like an eternity of 16 years and ended up looking powerless and burnt out - it's hard to imagine Merkel going from one day to another just reading books and trying out potato salad recipes. And we have learned from the U.S. that the political zenith is apparently not reached until the age of 70+. And from demography we have learned that women live longer and are more efficient in old age than men. So: starting this fall, there will be an "elder stateswoman" in waiting on the world stage, who I personally would like to see again in every conceivable position. EU Council president, UN secretary general, pope, conductor, chef - I don't care. But give her something to do. She won't screw it up. Thank you, Mrs. Merkel, for providing a solid counterbalance to all the testosterone and alpha dog behavior in our nation, in Europe and a little bit in the whole world all these years. Of course, not all that glitters is gold, and even you haven't done everything right. But your taking stock is positive, and that's what remains at the end of the day.

Personal happy moment of the week:

I have never owned a purse. Probably because I never had enough money ;-) So coins always end up in a big box that the kids carry to the bank by the kilo on World Savings Day. And for bills, I had a plain money clip by Danish designer Georg Jensen, whose functional-style silversmithing helped shape industrial design in Scandinavian countries. I had already lost it once and after much research was able to purchase one again. A good half year ago I scatterbrained lost it again. Fuck the 20, 30 euros - but my beautiful clip was gone. And this time it was impossible to find another one. Yesterday, I put on a suit that I obviously hadn't worn for a long time - because in my pants pocket I found my money clip. Empty, but valuable. I got it back. And my personal happy moment of the week.

I couldn't care less...

...for the Olympic Games. Because they are so far from the original ideal of the sporting high office of the amateurs, endlessly commercialized, run by a corrupt organization, without any grounding and leaving the same too often burnt. I can still remember the promises made before the Summer Games in Beijing in 20008: sport would be an ambassador of peace and democratization, the Olympics would have a lasting effect on politics and society. Really? Nothing at all has happened. Except that the 2022 Winter Games will once again be held in Beijing. Bravo!

As I write this...

...it's thundering and lightning in the mountains again. And everybody is afraid that there will be heavy rain, squalls and hail again. Because the soils, especially in the disaster areas of the last week, are still waterlogged and loose and many dams no longer exist. So it only takes a comparatively small amount of rain to have mudslides, rivers overflowing their banks, and flooded homes again. I'm keeping my fingers crossed for all of us.

[drmedicsgamesurgery]

Danganronpa Togami Volume 3 Part 4 (Summary)

Continuing where we left of in chapter 2!

Thanks to @enoshima-pyon @shockersalvage​ @jinjojess​ @hopeymchope​ for helping out!

3. Continued

"Hey what's with that smile, do you think I’m really that great of a mood? I’m looking for my sister, so this is no time to be eating." says Hiroyuki.

Shinobu asks about Yuika and the Ketouins to which Hiroyuki says that he has no idea what she is talking about. This is not his identity, what made her think that? Shinobu answers that Borges gave her all the info she needed.

"You really are proud of Borges, the information retrieval library developed by the Togami’s. It seems that you’re convinced of the information given to you by this gadget is correct, but what if it isn’t? Is it really ok to believe everything Borges says?”

Shinobu searches for references about the Ketouin’s in Borges to check.

Borges = Search results

#67910104

Title "Dialogue after 7pm yesterday"

"The Ketouin Conglomerate... You ever heard of it?"

"Never."

(OMITTED)

"Ketouin Conglomerate. I remember hearing about it."

"Way to go, little master! Let me carry your bags! Should I fetch you some sandals and warm up some onigiri too?"

"Unlike the typical conglomerate, they're one of those 'underworld conglomerates', and top of the list, at that. Even I haven't met with someone from an underworld conglomerate before."

(OMITTED)

"What an honor. I'm Hiroyuki, the grandson of the Ketouin Conglomerate's current head,

Hatakiyo Ketouin. And that's my twin sister."

"You may call me Yuika."

"After that conversation, I searched the "KETOUIN CONGLOMERATE" #87654321 in your base inside the car factory. Even if Borges fails, you shouldn’t doubt the Togami’s.”

"Borges failing? And what did the little master say? Things are getting too complicated, it’s giving me a headache."

"Are you trying to say that the world I see is just a product of fantasy."

"'This is the world I want to see'. Hmm, I quite like that way of thinking," Hiroyuki chewed on some chicken. "Of course, this world is not just a dream you want to see, I live in the same world as you, but it seems that our Weltanschauung[1] is not the same."

"Weltan... Hey, what do you mean?"

"What I want to ask is about your talent, that is the key to your self-awareness."

My talent.

Secretary.

"Milady, do you know that it is said that the profession of ‘secretary’ was born in the Middle East around 3,000 BC, but the secretaries of that time had only one job, for centuries, despite the ability to use the privileged class of words. That's all they had."

"What kind of job?"

"Recording."

"What?"

"Recording, like, keeping records. How many beans are there, how many potatoes, how many slaves, recording these was the task of a secretary."

“They didn’t write books?”

I don’t know much about history. It’s really unexpected when I say it. I used to think that the job of secretaries were to write biographies of great emperors or a story that prospered the country with lyrical words. It seems that the earliest books are as clean as I am. Lies, exaggerations, and ambiguous expressions, they ruled out all of this, only recording the facts, and implemented this principle all the time. I felt that my approach was not wrong and I couldn't help but feel relieved.

"For centuries, the secretary has been making records," Hiroyuki nodded. " I have to ask some questions. What are the reasons for these secretaries to start writing stories?"

"Are you asking the reason why the modern day secretary has declined?"

"I don't know if this should be called declining. In short, from a certain period of time, the secretary no longer needed to record, so they started to write biographies and lyrics and such. So why?"

"Maybe because I am tired of endlessly recounting records..."

"Because of unemployment."

"What?"

"Unemployment, like, no longer having that job. Countless kingdoms collapsed, and the bureaucracy where they lived ceased to exist. At that time, the secretary found that he was abandoned like Wakame [2] on the beach, losing his original status and reputation. These secretaries have the ability to read and write words. In the past, they served the people of the national center. Their self-esteem was devastated and they felt despair."

"It is because they are in despair that there will be a story to write."

Those who have been abandoned by the world and whose desires are not satisfied, they use their only ability - literary talent, to try to find the glory of the past, if so, how much-

“Somewhat disappointing.”

Hiroyuki talks about how greek and egyptian mythology was likely written by these despair filled secretaries. They were at the top of the country in power structure, but were reduced to nothing but sheepherders living a boring life. Those people wanted to make something interesting out of their lives and pictured their ideal world, out of despair.

"You really know a lot." Shinobu answers.

"Oh, it's nothing really... When I was young, I spent my days at the library."

Shinobu feels like she is a person who feels like she has a duty to write a book, and record things, to which Hiroyuki jokes that maybe now she is out of employment she has become one of the despair fueled secretaries too. 

4.

"Your Borges, your partner, your writing aid, your left and right hand, your comrade and your mentor..."

"What's with the cool speech, are you saying that I couldn't write anything without Borges?"

Shinobu thinks about how she is in fact extremely dependant on Borges, and without it, most of “Journey Under The Midnight Sun” would not have been recorded. However she never once thought that this would make her talent somewhat fake or forced, but it's because of Borges she is able to have an ability like this. She only wants to write down and record the facts.

The reality I have witnessed including my self-consciousness - this layer of extra filters, misreading, mistaking, and thinking wrong, all these human-specific errors are excluded, only the truth is recorded, to be recorded so factually like this, Borges is essential.

"You are indeed a true secretary. The original job of the secretary is to record the volume of goods in a warehouse. So to ask a new question, what would happen if the actual volume of the storage space itself is wrong?"

"What do you mean?"

"What would you do if the information Borges told you were fake?"

"Borges is perfect."

"There was a crash because the meter was broken. The pilot always believed that the meter had no problems, which caused the plane to fall. No matter what, believing 100% in something is very dangerous."

"Do you want me to doubt?"

"You have to doubt everything."

"That’s too cliché."

"I’m serious. Only prophecy can guarantee that there is no impurity in the real world."

"Prophecy……"

"If you don't find the 'Kudan' quickly, be careful that you won't be able to keep yourself. If you let the fat man take the fake goods, don't say how the world is, you must be finished."

"Who the hell are you?"

"My identity isn’t really that important."

"You aren’t answering me, Hiroyuki."

"So, uh, this person, Hiroyuki, never even existed in the first place. Hiroyuki Ketouin, Yuika Ketouin, the Ketouin Conglomerate, the Hasegawa Research Institute, Taeko Kanai, the Red Ribbon Army [3], the Black Gema-Gema Gang [4] and the International Criminal Police Organization [5], are all fiction. Fictional individuals and groups. If you think they are real, then well, your crazy. Well maybe not you who is crazy, but rather it’s Borges that is the crazy one.”

I have also noticed the differences between my memory and his testimony. However, I cannot agree with him. If I agree, then I won’t be able to trust myself, and I can't keep my story going.

"You want to get the 'Kudan' first. Be the first one to find the truth: it’s the only way to save you." continues Hiroyuki "You should let your mind run at full speed to deal with this event, as you did during The Biggest, Worst Incident in the History of the Togami Family.”

"Who are you?"

"I am your companion. I have been your companion since a long time ago. I hope you can be happy from now on. This is my only wish."

"Who are you?"

"You don't have to think about it. If you can't remember it, then blame Borges."

Hiroyuki showed a short but soft smile.

Do I... know? Do I know this unnatural smile?

"I asked, who are you. Please, answer me..."

"You can't remember. Maybe Borges not only eroded your present, but also eroded your past. You have to hurry, this has nothing to do with the Togami family and the world, for your own sake, please hurry..."

A hole opened in Hiroyuki’s head. Hiroyuki, who had a big hole in his eyebrow, still had a smile on his face, and held my hand in his. "Be yourself." his head fell onto his plate. We were under attack, so I rushed back. At that moment, there was a sharp impact on my face. I fell into the corner of the room as my face was shot. Aah, aaaaaah, lies, lies, lies, lies, aaaaah, I was hit, lies, lies, hit, aAH, I was hit, my face was hit, face, face, AAH, Byakuya-sama, I'm so scared, so scared, Byakuya-sama, I want to see you again, aaah, lies I don't want you to see, because my face is hit, I am going to die, am I going to die? I am alone, in a foreign country, I am going to die, are you going to die? A person? So scared, I don't want to be hit, █ hit, ███, I want ██, Byakuya-sama, Bya██ya, I ██ dead, █ want to see you, Byakuya-sama, want to see you, don't want to ███,█████ want to die, don't want to see you, want to see you, I want to die, I don't want to██████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████

Translations notes:

[1] Weltanschauung is German for Worldview

[2] Wakame is a type of seaweed used mostly in soups and salads.

[3] The Red Ribbon Army is a paramilitary criminal organization from the Dragonball series.

[4] The Black Gema-Gema Gang are a group of evil-doers from the Di Gi Charat series.

[5] The International Criminal Police Organization, or INTERPOL, is an intergovernmental organization facilitating international police cooperation from the Marvel Cinematic Universe series.

To be continued?

https://drmedicsgamesurgery.tumblr.com/GameSurgeryDRTranslations

[gotham-ruaidh]

Truth to Triumph

Previously…

Chapter 7: The Invitation

August 25, 1904

Article published in the New-York Daily Tribune on Sunday, August 28, 1904. Captain Van Schaick was at the helm when the Slocum burned. Bellevue is world-renowned for its mental illness ward. This small story, of a man literally gone mad with grief, humanizes this tragedy. And is emblematic of just how deeply this disaster scarred the city. 

--

In early August, Mr. Pulitzer gave Jamie a hearty raise.

 Jamie thanked him by donating it to the World’s Slocum widows and orphans fund.

In turn, the German community thanked him – for the fair, honest depiction of their community he had shared with the world, and for his own personal generosity – by declaring they would host a dinner in his honor, at one of the beer gardens on the Bowery.

 This invitation was the prime topic of conversation the next time he dined with Claire, the Beauchamps, and Henry – who brimmed with joy at being invited to sit with the grown-ups. True to his word, Jamie had breathed not a word of Henry’s existence to anyone. He had continued to call on Claire – and she had surprised him with a few unannounced appearances at his office – all the while remaining respectful of her boundaries.

 He’d invited her to dinner at his cramped rooms on Stanton Street; she insisted on buying groceries from several Italian pushcart vendors along the way, and together they cooked a simple yet delicious meal. Swapping stories about growing up in the city – the crowded public school he had attended in Chelsea, punctuated by occasional ferry trips across the Hudson to visit his mother’s brothers in Newark; playing hide-and-seek with her funny Uncle Lamb in the basement of her grandfather’s department store, and sneaking into dusty libraries to find a respite from yet another boring social occasion.

 Learning each other.

 Jamie had continued to impress all three adult Beauchamps with the way he partnered with Claire to shine a light on stories that the public may otherwise ignore or overlook – lending her work the credence it deserved.

 “I’ve been to a few dinners at these beer gardens,” the elder Henry shared, tucking in to the cool asparagus salad that Claire had helped the cook, Mrs. Crook, prepare. “They’re outside – or if they’re inside, the ceiling is made of glass panes that can be opened to let in the air. Entire families will come, squashed side-by-side onto picnic tables.”

 “Is it safe to presume that plenty of beer is served?” Julia smiled from behind her napkin.

 “It is, dear wife,” Henry replied. “Along with a good deal of other food – sausages, sauerkraut, potatoes. All very good, if a bit monochromatic in appearance.”

 “What’s mono-chromatic?” Young Henry speared an asparagus on his fork and wobbled it a bit over his plate.

 “‘Mono’ means ‘one,’ lovie, and ‘chromatic’ means ‘color.’ Anyway, Papa, It’s remarkable how the Germans do everything together – how they bring entire families to an event.” Claire gently pushed her son’s elbows off the table. “That’s why so many families were on the Slocum to begin with – they don’t like separating the men from the women, the women from the children.”

 “In that respect, they’re not so different from many of the other immigrant groups in New York,” Jamie reflected. “The Jews, the Italians, the Syrians, even the Chinese – everything becomes a family affair. They live together, work together – and have fun together. It only seems that the Americans – or to be specific, the Knickerbockers – don’t have this same custom.”

 “That’s because they can choose to pack away the children with the staff – and because the men are too idiotic to want to spend time with their wives,” Henry huffed. “Not for me to share now – with the little pitchers at the table. But Julia knows full well, the number of times I’ve had to turn down certain…invitations.”

 Claire raised an eyebrow at her father, then turned to look at her son – blissfully unaware as he munched on a cold chicken leg.

 “Still.” Jamie sipped his whisky. “I’m honored to be invited. Truly.”

 “You’ve done so much good, Jamie. Honorable good.” Henry raised his own glass of whisky in a toast. “And I’m pleased it’s being recognized.”

 “By the people whose opinion matter most,” Claire added, clinking her own glass of whisky against Jamie’s.

 He looked into her eyes. Knew that she wasn’t just referring to the Kleindeutschlanders.

 --

 Later, after the dessert plates were cleared, Jamie refused the elder Henry’s offer of a nightcap and welcomed the younger Henry’s enthusiastic good-night hug, before retreating alone to the parlor that overlooked East Twenty-Second Street. As was their custom after dinner, Jamie waited as Claire put her son to bed – sometimes reading from one of the storybooks Jamie had so thoughtfully given Henry for his fifth birthday – before they shared a quiet hour or two in the parlor. Alone. Getting to know one another.

 Always on Claire’s terms.

 Sometimes they talked about her work – a challenging patient she had treated; a new doctor who had doubted her abilities; a recent scientific breakthrough she had learned about in one of the journals she subscribed to.

 Sometimes they talked about his work – how he had had to fight his editors to use true and honest language and avoid sensationalism in his Unsung series; salacious stories that the newspaper had trumpeted – or ignored – based on Mr. Pulitzer’s whims and relationships; the faces and stories of everyday New Yorkers he had met in the course of his travels around the city.

 Sometimes they talked about their families – her, of happy childhood memories growing up in this house, or traveling with her beloved Uncle Lamb as he lectured about anthropology in various colleges across the Northeast; him, of the foods his mother had cooked in their tenement on West Thirteenth Street, and the happy life his sister and brother-in-law led on the farm in Nova Scotia he had heard so much about but never visited himself.

 Usually they sat side-by-side on the settee, facing each other, both nursing a glass of brandy. He never drank very much in her presence – knowing how gravely she had suffered at the hands of a drunk man. And he never touched her – never even took her hand – without her touching him first.

 Silently signaling how much he respected her.

 Aching for more with her – this woman whose strength inspired him, whose grace astounded him, whose beauty haunted his days and his dreams.

 How deeply he wanted everything with her – to have her at his side, as his wife and partner and confidante. To provide for Henry – to be a father to him, to give him his name, to guide him as he grew. To give Henry sisters and brothers to play with.

 The settee shifted beside him – and she was there. Smiling. So beautiful and radiant.

 She held out her hands – and immediately he took them within his own. Caressing. Eyes intent on hers.

 “Is he asleep?”

 She nodded. “He so loves the book of Mother Goose rhymes you bought him. He can read them on his own now. So he insisted on reading to me tonight.”

 He returned her smile. “He’s a smart boy.”

 “He is.” She glanced down at their hands. How his fingers so perfectly twined with hers, thumbs gently stroking the pulses and tendons on the inside of her wrists.

 “Will you come with me to the dinner, Claire?”

 Her eyes snapped up to meet his. “The one at the beer garden?”

 He nodded. “I would like nothing more than for you to be at my side. I wouldn’t be there – wouldn’t have been able to meet such wonderful people, or to have had such an impact – had it not been for you.” He swallowed. “But for you to do that, would mean that we – we would be seen together in public. As a couple.”

 She didn’t speak, silently squeezing his hands.

 “I don’t want you to think that I’m – I’m ashamed of you in any way, or that I don’t want to be seen with you. It would make me so proud, to have you there – to introduce you as the most important woman in my life. But Claire – Claire, I don’t know if you want that.”

 “Of course I want that,” she replied, incredulous.

 “But are you ready for that? To be in the papers again, potentially? I know you didn’t care for it very much the last time it happened – and now that my name is becoming more well-known…it may be a topic of interest to some people.”

 She pursed her lips. The fine lines at the corners of her eyes creased in the lamplight. “I understand that – and I accept it. I can’t hide from it forever, Jamie. I’m ready for it.”

 “Are you sure?”

 “I am. Do you know why?”

 “Why?”

 She shifted closer to him. “Because you came to me through what I can do. Not because of my family. Or my looks. Or our money, our house. The influence we have. You came to me because of something terrible, which allowed me to express how skilled I am. Because of what I can do. Because of what I have worked so hard to demonstrate.”

 She paused, considering her words very carefully.

 “Jamie – other people see those things first. You don’t. You see me for who I want to be – for how I want to be seen. Purely because of me. Do you know you’re the only person – except for my son, perhaps – who has ever done that for me?”

 Now the words flooded in a torrent. “You make me stronger – more confident. You don’t owe me anything, and yet you support me anyway. So I know that your support – your faith in me – is genuine. And you demonstrate that faith by allowing me to help you find people whose stories need to be told – and then by telling them honestly. Earning their trust and respect. My trust and respect.”

 She dropped his left hand. Reached to cradle his cheek for the first time. Overcome, he brought her left hand to his thrumming heart – and closed his eyes, nuzzling her palm.

 “You one said that you wanted to know me. Do you remember?”

 He nodded.

 She swallowed. “I think I’ve come to know you well, Jamie Fraser. Would you say the same about me?”

 “Yes,” he breathed.

 “So of course I’ll accompany you. To the beer garden, and anywhere else you go.”

 His eyes opened, and joyfully he kissed her palm.

 “Always?” he whispered, so hopeful.

 “Always,” she promised, bringing their joined hands to her own heart so that he could feel it racing.

 “I – I…” he stammered. “I would very much like to kiss you, Claire. May I?”

 Forever she remembered that moment, when the world seemed to stand still, and she lost all sense of her surroundings – save for Jamie’s eager face, and his burning eyes, and his soft, soft touch on her wrist.

 “Yes,” she breathed. And the world exploded with color.

[druckenglish]

Season 4 Episode 2: “Palpitations”

Amira’s mum: Hey, what are you planning to do with that?

Amira: What do you think, mum? I have to test it before I leave

Amira’s mum: What, you want to go camping?

Amira: Yes

Amira’s mum: Do you have any idea how dangerous that is? Mum said I was crazy to let you go to Australia on your own

Amira: Yes and she watches way too much TV

Amira’s mum: Yes, but she’s right. (in Arabic): That man in Christchurch (in German): He was Australian, wasn’t he?

Amira: Yes, but that doesn’t mean they’re all racist

Amira’s mum: But that’s only a tent. It doesn’t have a door. (in Arabic): What will you do when someone comes during the night?

Amira: My good, mum, I really don’t want to talk about this nonsense now

Amira’s mum: And there’s wild animals

Amira (in Arabic): Don’t be scared

Amira’s mum: You always said you were going to stay at a hotel

Amira (in Arabic): Don’t be scared. (in German): Hold on

Text from Sam: Hey Queen, do you happen to have Mohammed’s number? That would be awesome. Or what’s his name on Insta?

Amira’s mum: Here, look, take that with you. See, it works like that

Amira: Mum, careful, that’s dangerous

Amira’s mum: You take that with you, for your own safety. Your friends get married and you go to Australia. What did I do wrong? (in Arabic): My lord, may you protect her. (in German): I just want you to return safely

Amira: And I don’t want to plan everything. And, how do I look?

Amira’s mum: I’ll go and cook now

Essam: Slave

Amira: What?

Essam: Come here!

Amira: Yes, and?

Essam: Or I’ll tell baba and mum that (couldn’t understand what he said there) See, there we go

Amira: What bs are you talking about?

Essam: (I swear, his mumbling is almost worse than Matteo’s, I really have trouble understanding what he’s talking about, something about ice and Amira not fulfilling her duties)

Amira: You really have a problem, Fruchtzwerg (name of a yoghurt for kids, Frucht means fruit and Zwerg means dwarf)

Essam: My only problem is that I don’t have cold ice tea in my hand

Amira: And? That’s not my problem. The bet is already over.

Essam: The bet is on until Monday 8pm. I’m not making the rules

Mohammed (in Arabic): That’s unfair

Essam: And besides, do you really want to get ten clouts every day for the rest of your life? I don’t think so

Amira: Fine, you’ll get your stupid tea. But that’s the last time

Essam: With extra sugar. And a splash of lemon

Mohammed: Do you need help?

Amira: No thanks

Mohammed: They’re melting. Ah, the ice cold look again. That’s a good tactic, then it’ll turn into ice tea. Didn’t Essam have a special wish? Well, the splash is relative

Amira: There you go

Essam: You’re a really good slave

Omar (in Arabic): Thanks sister

Amira (in Arabic): You’re welcome

Essam: Looks good. What did you put in there?

Omar: Nice sis

Text from Jonas: I’m organizing that soliparty on Friday, could you help me with it? That would be really cool!

Text to Jonas: Sure, I’d love to

Text from Sam: Hey sweetie, I found Mohammed’s instagram. What does that text mean?

Text to Sam: It says that family is everything to him and that he’s grateful for it

Biker: Take off your headscarf, then you might be able to see something

Amira: Excuse me?

Biker: Next time I won’t stop

Amira: Idiot

Text to Sam: Watch out, he’s an Arab, they fuck you over

Trainer: Remember the 90 degrees, keep your elbows close to your body. Just like that. Last ten seconds, give me everything you’ve got

Sam: Amira! Break, finally!

Amira (in Arabic): Uhm mum, could you bring us some of the…

Amira’s mum (in Arabic): I’m coming, I’m coming, look

Amira: Thanks

Amira’s mum: Of course, darling. I’m so happy to see you at our place again. I’m sure you have a lot to talk about, don’t you? I’ll leave you alone. Don’t forget to eat

Amira: Thanks, mum

Nadia: Thanks

Amira: Yeah, nice to see you

Nadia: Yeah

Amira: I never thought you’d be the first of us

Nadia: Me neither

Amira: So you and Achmed. Wow, how come?

Nadia: Well, I met him again at the mosque a year ago. He’s become really nice. Not a poser like all the others. He’s gonna be a great dad one day

Amira: Doesn’t sound like you at all

Nadia: And for our honeymoon we’re going to Dubai

Amira: Dubai? Didn’t you always say you hate Dubai?

Kiki: Oh, you have a visitor, I didn’t know. Your mum told me to just come in

Amira: Kiki, hey

Kiki: Hello

Nadia: Hi

Kiki: I just wanted to give you that as a little thank you because of the flat

Amira: Thanks darling

Kiki: I still have to do something with Carlos, so don’t be bothered by me

Nadia: No, sit down

Amira: Sure, sit down

Kiki: That looks super yummy! Is all of that vegan?

Amira: Yes, help yourself

Nadia: Amira told me a lot about you back then

Kiki: Oh god, yeah, I believe that. Remember the bitching when I had that crush on Alex? Anyway, that was a long time ago. But meanwhile I’ve learned that Amira speaks with Arabic wisdom and you better not mess with that. How do you know each other?

Amira: Nadia and I know each other from the youth group at the mosque

Kiki: You’re the friend that’s getting married now, aren’t you? Amira told us about that. Oh my god, congratulations, I love weddings, especially your kind, I mean the dresses alone are such a dream and is that really like in Bollywood where everybody’s dancing and it’s super colourful? So nice. In weddings everything’s always good, isn’t it?

Nadia: Yes, totally

Kiki: Where did you meet your boyfriend? Or was that…

Nadia: Arranged? Why do Almans (stereotypical German) always think that? We met very normal through friends and talked and liked each other

Kiki: And then, did you kiss?

Nadia: No, we don’t just kiss, we went out for over a year and then I knew that he’s the man of my life

Kiki: So nice, Amira, can you get married soon as well?

Amira: Kiki

Kiki: Please: I also want to go to an Arabic wedding!

Amira: No, I really don’t have any mind for that right now. First, it’s Australia

Nadia: Australia?

Kiki: Yes, Amira’s going to Australia for a year. Super cool

Nadia: Really?

Amira: Yes. Does anybody want more tea?

Kiki: Yes, I’ll take some

Amira: Sure

Amira: Hey

Mohammed: Hey

Amira: What are you doing here?

Mohammed: I’m helping setting everything up

Amira: Sam is already inside?

Mohammed: Yes. But I’m not here because of Sam

Amira: Okay

Hanna: David’s design is super cool

Matteo: Yes, I think so, too. He’s an interesting guy after all. In contrast to ... Steffen?

Amira: Na, are you gossiping?

Hanna: Nope

Matteo: No

Amira: What am I supposed to do?

Matteo: You can help Sam in the kitchen, she needs help

Amira: Hey Sam

Sam: Hey. Do you know anything about potato salad?

Amira: No idea, potatoes and salad?

Sam: And then? 

Amira: I don’t know, maybe add mayonnaise?

Sam: I only have hollandaise sauce. That always works said Abdi

Amira: Well then...we’ll poison everybody

Sam: Jonas didn’t want it any other way

Amira: Mohammed is here

Sam: I know, I told him about it and he wanted to help. I think he has the coolest instagram I’ve seen in a while

Amira: Okay

Sam: He’s so hot I can’t

Amira: But you have Abdi

Sam: Of course I have Abdi, but he doesn’t have instagram

Amira: So? 

Sam: That thing with Abdi and me is open. Staying flexible is way cooler. Everything okay?

Amira: Yes, everything’s fine

Sam: What’s the matter with you? You’ve been so weird lately

Amira: I’m fine

Sam: I think it’s starting

Amira: I’m gonna go pray very quickly. See you in a bit

Sam: Okay

Jonas: But before that I’ve organized a musical act, from Lebanon, big applause please, get on the stage

Singer: Welcome everybody, how are you? We are feedback and we’re from Berlin

Mohammed (outside): Two or three more minutes

Girl: That’s too long, we need more bottles. Can I go inside now?

Mohammed: Yes

Amira: Hey

Mohammed: I hope we didn’t bother you

Amira: Did you really stand watch in front of the door? Cool, thanks!

Mohammed: With pleasure

Amira: You wanna have a drink?

Mohammed: Yes. I think it’s really cool that your friends do something like this, for the refugees I mean, it’s important that we do something

Amira: Jonas will be chancellor one day, that’s what our yearbook said

Mohammed: No, you will be chancellor

Amira: The girls always say that as well, but I don’t think anybody wants that

Mohammed: Yes. We need someone like you who fights for us. You’re good here, even if you don’t believe that

Mohammed: Your plan didn’t work. With Sam. Give me your phone

Amira: What, why?

Mohammed: I want to look something up

Amira: No

Mohammed: Don’t you trust me?

Amira: No

Mohammed: Come on, I just want to look something up

Amira: What are you doing?

Mohammed: Nothing

Amira: Hey, no, no

Mohammed: Hold on. What did you do there?

Amira: Nothing

Mohammed: Let me see. Hold on

Amira: Cute

Mohammed: I always have that with me for the kids. I’m doing an internship at a preschool

Amira: I love that song

Mohammed: Me too

Amira: Wanna go inside?

Mohammed: Yes

[haltandcatchfiretothemax]

Headcanon that Cameron and Donna celebrate the 4th of July, and make a point of seeing a fireworks show every year

[CW: temporary sickness, food/eating]

Naturally, Cameron and Donna feel very differently about the holiday itself. When Donna initiates the annual, “So, the 4th, what are we doing?” conversation in June, Cameron mutters, “What a bullsh!t holiday,” and Donna rolls her eyes, and says, “Yeah I know, Apocalypse Now, your conscientious objection is noted….” Cameron will argue, “I (still) don’t understand how you don’t object!” and Donna will literally throw up her hands, much the way she used to when they would argue in the Mutiny conference room and say, “I don’t know, probably because I’m (still) not actually in the service? And I won’t be drafted? And we’re not at war?” (She ignores Cameron’s incredulous, “You really think this country isn’t at war? I mean maybe not that we know of….”) “It’s a federal holiday celebrated by many of this nation’s citizens,” Donna sighs, “and it’s a great excuse for a party.” “Well of course you think so, Party Girl,” Cameron smirks at her. “You love that I’m a Party Girl,” Donna scoffs, “especially after everyone else goes home for the night.” 

This of course is entirely true, and so after their annual bickering, objection voiced, Cameron goes with whatever it is that Donna wants to plan. Every few years, they spend the day together, just the two of them, and they go up to San Francisco to see the fireworks, and to recreate one of their first dates. More typically though, Donna hosts a barbecue for their loved ones.

Unfortunately, that second July after Cameron finally, completely moves in, Donna gets sick

On the 2nd of July, after they get home from work, Donna realizes that she feels exhausted and overwhelmed by the desire to sleep. Cameron takes care of dinner, but when she offers to make a plate for Donna, Donna says, “I think I’m too tired to eat? I must be coming down with something.” She describes a mild headache, mild nausea, and feeling a little warm. When Cameron anxiously asks if they should go to a clinic or even the emergency room, Donna says, “No, It’s not that bad,” and then when Cameron protests (“but what if it is that bad, what if it’s worse than it feels?”) says, “I’ve given birth to two actual human beings, Cameron, I know when something feels serious.” (“I’ve given birth to two human beings” will become Donna’s standard reply when Cameron starts to fret about Donna’s health.) She doesn’t have chest pains, blurred vision, or neck stiffness, so Donna spends the rest of the evening sipping ginger tea, and manages to eat some saltines before turning in

When Donna wakes up feeling even more exhausted the next day, Cameron asks if they should cancel the barbecue. “No, no, it’s too late,” Donna groans, “and besides, most of the prep work is already done, we bought all the food and supplies.” With a heavy sigh, she says, “You guys can deal with the food. I’ll just have to stay inside, and also out of the kitchen.” “Okay,” Cameron nods. And then she says, “Wait, what do you mean we can handle the food, are you saying you want me to work the grill?” Donna chuckles, “No, I meant that Bos, Haley, and Vanessa can do the grilling.” 

Donna spends most of that day in bed, not so much resting as passed out, as if she hasn’t slept in a month. After clearing it with the girls, Cameron makes a hasty trip to the market for some chicken, and then spends that afternoon channeling her anxiety and disappointment into making a large batch of chicken noodle soup

When Cameron brings her a bowl of soup and sleeve of crackers, Donna is grateful for it, and able to sit up comfortably to eat it. “This is perfect,” Donna sighs, “it’s a little bland, but, that’s what I need right now.” “Seems like you’re feeling better,” Cameron says hopefully. “A bit,” Donna nods, between spoonfuls. “I don’t feel possessed by the need to sleep, I don’t feel so warm or headachey…stomach still feels weird, that’s the only thing.” She downs the rest of the soup, though.

Later that evening Cameron goes up to the bedroom to see if Donna wants a snack. Donna responds with an exaggerated grimace, and says, “I don’t think you should sleep in here tonight, I would offer to move but, I’ve already got the bathroom in here, and you can use the other bathroom, and then it will be clear for any guests who need it tomorrow.” Cameron frowns at the idea of sleeping separately, “Okay. Well, I’ll grab my toothbrush now so I don’t have to bother you again —“ “Cameron, do not go into that bathroom,” Donna entreats her. “You probably need a new toothbrush anyway, just grab one of the spares in the linen closet.” Cameron looks at her and asks, “Are you alright?” Donna says, “I’m gonna be fine, I just, I have a stomach bug, and it is gonna get uglier before it clears is all so just trust me and spare yourself!” Cameron snorts and then somberly says, “Okay, okay, I get it.” When she leaves the room, Donna cries after her, “Wash your hands, please!”

Despite Donna’s absence, the barbecue goes smoothly, and is enjoyed by all. With Haley, Vanessa, and Bos tending most of the food, Cameron is free after helping them set up to ferry soup, toast, fluids, and party chatter up to Donna at regular intervals. “This works out well for you, having an excuse to leave the party over and over again,” Donna says. Cameron says, “Yeah I thought it would be super cool but, nope, plot twist, I’d like it way better if you were out there with us and I had to be out there with you, stuffing my face while I stand next to you, like the trophy wife I am.” Donna grins up at her and says, “You are most definitely a prize, thank you for all of the soup. Now go back to our guests, and go have some fun! Or try, at least.”

She does try, when she goes back outside Bos throws a fatherly arm around her shoulders and says, “I know, it’s hard to feel festive when the missus is under the weather, but we all got to soldier on somehow....” Cameron makes the rounds, trying to chat with everyone the way Donna usually does, it’s harder than Donna makes it look, but she does her best. After that, she lets herself sit down with Risa and Tanya and has some short ribs, some grilled peppers, and another generous helping of German potato salad. She plays hackeysack with Haley and Lev, cackles at one of Diane’s kooky Bos stories, and then toasts marshmallows for everyone’s s’mores. 

As always, Cameron is relieved at the end of the evening, Tanya and Bos help her put everything away, and then she sees them and the other guests off before they go to the park to see the local fireworks display, and then she goes up to the bedroom to see Donna, ginger ale and a pair of Donna’s favorite crystal glasses in hand. 

When she gets up there, Donna already has their television on and set to the local network that’s broadcasting the San Francisco fireworks show. Cameron pours two glasses of soda for them, hands one to Donna, gets into bed next to her, and harrumphs, “I think I had one s’more too many. I also probably had more of that potato salad than I really needed to.” “That’s my girl,” Donna smiles. “If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em, and if you can’t join ‘em, out-eat ‘em.” 

After the fireworks show begins, Donna says, “It is a bullsh!t holiday. You’re right.” Swallowing a mouthful of her soda, Cameron says, “And it is an excuse for a party, so you’re right, too. Like always.” Then Donna says, “Yeah. But you know that I get why you don’t like this holiday. Or, any holiday, really, right?” “I know,” Cameron says. “When we met you,” Donna continues, “Gordon and I were drowning. Our lives weren’t bad, we both had college degrees, we had a house and cars, and I was also putting the girls’ dentists appointments on three different credit cards to be able to pay for them.” Cameron remembers hearing Donna and Joanie in the Cardiff ladies’ room and grins reflexively. “And we were lucky! We were better off than most people,” Donna says. Still staring ahead at the tv and the fireworks, Donna says, “this country is full of people living with all kinds of deprivation and misery, as in real deprivation, and every year, we’re supposed to just celebrate all of that.”

“Not celebrating won’t change that, though, I guess,” Cameron shrugs sadly. “Moping by ourselves won’t make things better for anyone. Thank you for not letting me mope, even when you’re too sick to actually be at the party.” Clinking her glass gently against Cameron’s Donna says, “My pleasure.”

[thetherobio]

WELCOME

William S. Burroughs,  in the introduction of his novel ‘Naked Lunch’, claims Jack Kerouac, his fellow Beat Pioneer, suggested the book’s title, maintaining that “It means exactly what the words say: naked lunch, a frozen moment when everyone sees what is on the end of every fork." Alan Ginsberg, the third literary iconoclast in that particular group of authors, was said to have misread the title of the manuscript, which was, purportedly, ‘Naked Lust’.   Either story works for me, because, as an overweight, middle aged white man, I admit that I lust for whatever is on the end of my every fork on any given frozen moment of my life.  

Lunch is an abbreviation taken from the more formal North English Word ‘Luncheon,’ derived from the Anglo-Saxon word nunchin, meaning ‘Noon Drink’, a tradition carried on in the Financial District of Manhattan with the 80% tax-deductible ‘3 Martini Lunch’.  Which is probably why the Stock Market is so fucked up.  

Lunch is the popular pastime of groups of middle aged women immortalized by Steven Sondheim, in his  song ‘Ladies Who Lunch’ from his Musical ‘Company.’ The most famous rendition performed by Elaine Stritch, a venerable Broadway Diva, (or  Old Bag, depending on your point of view) whose voice might actually make you LOSE your lunch.

But since 1580 AD, the word has been used to describe the meal taken between two more substantial meals.  

However, there are parts of the world where Lunchisthe main meal of the day.  In some countries, such as Germany, Portugal, Hungary, parts of Eastern and Southeastern Europe and Asia, lunch is when a person really chows down.

In Bengal, where a traditional lunch is a SEVEN course meal, consisting of vegetables in a coconut sauce, a vegetable curry over rice, a fish curry over rice, a meat curry over rice, deep-fried sweet semolina balls, yogurt, and capped off with ‘Paan’, which is a bitter leaf which acts as the final palate cleanser.  Even a fat bastard like me think that’s just a bit much.  You shove all that shit down your piehole, you’re not going back to work.  You’re napping for about 4 hours.

In Scotland, a country whose sole contributions to humanity are Golf and Whiskey, the NUMBER ONE lunch item, popular to the point where it almost qualifies as The National Dish, is a deep fried Mars Bar.  Let me repeat that.  THE NUMBER ONE LUNCH ITEM IN SCOTLAND IS A FUCKING DEEP FRIED MARS BAR.  Which is not altogether that surprising, when you consider that their most famous dish is Haggis, a savory pudding containing sheep's pluck (heart, liver, and lungs); minced with onion, oatmeal, suet, spices, and salt, mixed with stock, and cooked encased in the animal's stomach.   It’s my contention that this is why they began distilling scotch in the first place, because you’d have to be pretty fucking drunk to eat that shit.

Here, in North America, lunch is a moderate meal, generally consumed between 11 AM and 2 PM, depending on your hours.  It’s usually a quick meal, if not taken at a restaurant, office cafeteria or food cart, then brought from home and eaten at your desk.  The majority of children bring theirs to school in a brown paper bag, in which is usually a sandwich, (traditionally bologna, cheese, tunafish or peanut butter and jelly) and a piece of fruit which is almost always used to barter for something better, like a cookie.  My mother used to habitually pack me a smoked turkey on white bread with mayo.  Not exactly barterable, especially because it looked like a sliced raw baby sandwich, although I think raw sliced baby would probably taste a shit ton better than that that Anemic, Light Pink Colored Processed Mystery Meat.  I know it was supposed to be turkey, but, if it was, I’d bet my next lunch check it was from the neck.

At least in this country, Lunch is really only one of three meals between Breakfast and Dinner.  One on either side of the feast the very entity you are reading celebrates.  

One is ‘Brunch’, which is a hybrid of a late breakfast and early lunch, hence the compound name. It is almost always served on weekends, and involves standard morning fare: eggs, bacon, pancakes, et. al, combined with menu items that are usually reserved for later in the day;  various carved meats and seafood items from the raw bar) The latter, arguably, is merely included to justify day drinking. Which is the only reason anybody ever goes to Brunch.  (“Bloody Marys and Mimosas!  They’re not ‘Drink Drinks’!  They’re both based on Breakfast Juices!’ )  

The second meal between Breakfast and Dinner is ‘The Early Bird Special’.  There should be an asterisk alongside the phrase, as it is, in reality, actually a dinner, albeit one that is eaten not more than one hour after 3 O’clock.  ‘The Early Bird Special’ is not just a meal, it’s a phenomenon.  

Because,

1 - It’s usually only found in areas located in warmer climes.

2 - It is generally only available at mass market chain restaurants known for being open 24 hours a day and feature menu items with cute names like ‘Moon Over My Hammy’, and

3 - The demographic of those who partake in it is traditionally one that resides in retirement communities: Men wearing green polyester pants hiked up to their nipples and women sporting angora sweaters draped around their slight, bony shoulders.

Seemingly, it’s the bargain offered by the restaurant on the meal that holds the allure. There appears to be no person over the age of 62 who can resist the temptation of Pot Roast and Gravy, Mashed Potatoes and Creamed Corn, with choice of soup or salad, coffee or soft drink and dessert of the day, even if it means they have to take it between 2:59 and 3:59, and they’ve just finished lunch at 2.

But at whatever time, in whatever form it’s embraced, Lunch is the magical meal that is universally adored.  No matter the country, culture or creed, the siren call of the break in the middle of the day to consume sustenance to keep us going until the last school bell rings or we punch out on the time clock, is anticipated with great eagerness.  

In the pages that follow, we will discuss how this culinary gift of God is done in the different parts of this country.  We will explore menu items germane to specific geographical locations, and how the fare varies from State to State.   Some of the opinions voiced between these covers will, no doubt, be fraught with controversy, causing passionate, sometimes hostile debate over which city has the better hot dog, what constitutes a ‘chili’, or the proper way to eat a slice.

But in the end, it is my fervent hope that we can all find common ground in the delightfully diverse meal that, ultimately, unites us all.

So...have your girl call my girl. 

 Let’s do lunch.

[theolivechickken]

Come to Salzburg they said. It will be easy they said.

Brace yourself: here’s week 1.

Jan 15

Scarfed down an egg, cheese, and spinach cake-looking omlette before running upstairs for German. Katharina printed out little character cards and we had to translate them out loud to each other.

Hallo, mein name ist Brigitte (also had to spell my name out in German). Ich bin dreiundsiebzig Jahre alt. Ich komme aus Klagenfurt, Kärnten.

Oof why are numbers so difficult? Hopefully I’ll get the hang of it. It’s pretty easy if you know 1-10 but you have to know 1-10 and I don’t yet.

I like our Austria in Europe class. Normally, I think history is boring and it’s hard for me to stay engaged, but I thought it was really interesting how we opened the class. Wolfgang asked us, “What does history mean to you?” For me it’s a recollection of individual stories and how they play into the greater picture/shape society, as well as how society shapes individual’s stories. We also had a debate and discussion on how is identity formed. I’m glad we’re in a small lecture class. I almost never speak aloud in discussions/class, but I feel pretty comfortable speaking up in our group.

Remind me not to drink 2+ cups of black tea in one sitting. I was wayyyy to hyped on caffeine. Kinda felt like I shaking like that squirrel from Over the Hedge.

Oh my, our Sights and Sounds of Salzburg class was a looooooong one. Our professor has a thick accent so it’s hard to keep up and understand what she’s talking about. Sometimes she would ask a question and we wouldn’t know that she did until she just kept staring at us. We flipped through a thousand slides of historical art pieces.

Since we ended class at 15:30, there wasn’t much time to go out into the city before dinner. We ended up hanging out in the house to do homework or take a break before going out to Paul Stub’n. I had chicken, a baked potato, and a light salad.

Let me start by saying I have never seen any full length mirrors since we arrived here. So in the bathroom, you can understand that I was confused by the mirror and thought it was a weird hallway to another part of the bathroom. Only till I actually walked up to it and TOUCHED IT did I see my reflection and realized OH it’s a mirror and I’m dumb. Glad Aubree was there to witness it. We were dyiiing.

After dinner, we navigated through the city and found the lift on the other side of the mountain. We rode the elevator up since Aubree’s knee hasn’t been the happiest lately. Up on the Mönchsberg, we walked the scenic backway and found a museum as well as a stunning view of the city at night (photos will never do this place justice).

Jan 16

Had another egg, cheese, potato cake-looking omelette for breakfast and hiked up the stairs to German. For our Austria in Europe class this morning, we took a walk on the Mönchsberg and stopped at sites that had historical backgrounds and were essential to Austria/Salzburg’s development. He also pointed out the Eagle’s Nest and the church that was used in the Sound of Music (but the inside of a different church was used for interior scenes).

We trekked back to our building and had a potatoey crispy mac and cheese-esque dumpling casserole thing for lunch. I wished I knew the names of the foods Marcus cooked for us.

After this lunch break, we continued our Austria in Europe class and had a history lesson on the Habsburg family. My background on European history is rough/ basically non-existent since the last time I studied it was early-on in high school and I never retained any information because it was a butt-load of history to remember. So I’m happy to be getting another crash course. Turns out the Hapsburgs were a family who happened to be at the right place at the right time They managed to come into power and dominate the Holy Roman Empire for 600 years.

Nadia, Raine, Aubree, Patrick, and I went out to hang and do homework at a coffee house but ended up walking around town and stopping at Spar to buy chips and snacks. I need to learn how to ask, “Can I pet your dog?” in German. I keep seeing too many good bois, big woofers, and smol puppers that are all SO well trained and absolutely adorable. When we walked out of the grocery store, we found a little long-haired dog tied to a bench. Patrick went up to pet it while the rest of us stared and admired from a distance. We walked through the Hospital parking lot (and realized just how small this town is and how all these separate pieces of the city are finally connecting to a solid map) and then hung out at a little pastry shop before crossing the street to meet the rest of the group at the Aug (Augustiner braü).

Inside, there was a whole wall lined with small and large ceramic beer mugs (Steins?). You picked up a mug, washed it out in this grand sink station, paid 3-5 euros at the stand, and then walked over to the bar where the guy would fill your glass up from the tap. Honestly it was pretty good. 10/10 recommend and would come back- and the food wasn’t too bad either. I got a Riesen Käsekrainer mit senf (basically a giant sausage with cheese and mustard). Patrick and I also went to a stand to get some fries. I was confident in my German and ready to order and then I panicked mid-sentence but the lady still understood what I meant.

Jan 17

COME TO SALZBURG THEY SAID. IT WILL BE EASY THEY SAID. Our sounds of Austria professor just dropped a homework bomb on us. And the binders she passed out for our class are so unorganized (my OCD is killing meeeee). Why am I already overwhelmed with classes? I’m hoping this week is just chaotic from trying to adjust and process everything as well as from trying to establish somewhat of a routine. On the bright side, we had more comfort carbs for lunch (pasta with red sauce, bacon bits, and broccoli).

We ~finally~ ventured out to get our sim cards. Managed to buy a ticket and hop onto the bus (but am I supposed to scan my ticket or something?). Wasn’t sure what our stop was for the train station, but I was happily along for the ride (no need to stress yet folks). Salzburg is an interesting city. It’s always suuuuper quiet. People walking around town are silent. Individuals and families sitting on busses don’t talk. In restaurants, volume is kept to a minimum. I’m sure we all look crazy just existing out in the streets as Americans especially since we like to talk and travel in groups. It was quiet on the bus, but the ride was calming and it was nice to see parts of the city that we hadn’t seen before. Also, we saw some cute babies all bundled up and smiley. They look like miniature Michelin Tyre men.

We missed our stop for the train station?? So we just got off at the last stop which was the Europark (the large indoor mall). We stopped at the A1 store to get sim cards, but it was a hassle with such a large group and so many of us not really knowing what we need or what we’re getting. It sounds like we were trying to get one plan but ended up with a different one since the guy misinterpreted us? I’m still confused, and I feel like I spent a lot of Euros, but my phone works abroad now and it’s only a month plan so if it doesn’t work out or I don’t use/need all it’s perks I can just change it when the plan is up.

The mood drastically changed from when we went in, to when we came out. A lot of stress for both us, and the poor two workers who were trying their best to help us out. We hopped on a bus to head back to Old Town. Got off and scrambled to find a quick restaurant to eat at before attending a concert. Some split off to McDonalds, and some of us went to a fish food store. I ended up getting a fried fish sandwich thing, but it was either served cold, or cold from sitting too long. It was aight and definitely cheap. I’ve been missing fruit and veggies in my diet. I think Marcus does his best to include them in our meals, but I could really go for a smoothie.

How to save money by going out :)

don’t go out

get kids meals

fast food

street food

Also, here’s the rundown on the types of places to eat:

super fancy restaurants

sit down restaurants

sit down coffee houses

take out coffee houses

fast food

street food

We met up with the rest of the group in front of Haus für Mozart (Kleines Festspielhaus) for the concert: Bergen Philharmonic Orchestra. It’s quite an experience sitting at a concert. I think so many of us are used to having a lot of visual stimulation, but this was mainly a listening experience. Of course, you can watch the musicians playing their instruments or the conductor throwing his body into the music, but it’s a different kind of visual that we are not used to. The music was lovely, but it was also long. We were supposed to take notes throughout the concert, but I kept getting lost in thought or lost in the story of the music. Or maybe just lost. At some points it really was just music and I didn’t really know how it made me feel or think.

[agwnowb]

At least you don’t miss them until they are no longer there when you want them.  Like the ability to turn the faucet on and have water pour forth in abundance.  Early this morning my water went away as I was rinsing the soap off my hands.  The bright spot was that it dribbled out long enough to get rid of all of the soap residue,  a very fortunate plus since I had been doing some greasy cleanup in the kitchen, making up for a few days of forced inactivity due to an infection somewhere inside that caused my temperature to rise.  So, while I am so used to taking water for granted, today I count as a very huge blessing the fact that I have plenty of bottled water on hand for drinking and for a limited amount of cooking.  No pasta probably, but pasta, while delicious is not necessary for life (I can say that because I am English/Irish/German ancestry).  I also have a fridge and freezer filled with burgoo, potato salad, and sandwich fixins!  

This is actually my second water main break since I moved to town.  The first one wasn’t quite as conveniently placed as this one.  I was living in a house that time and had a guest for a few days, it was Sunday morning and to top it all off, I was in the shower covered completely by the huge handful of shampoo and shower gel I had decided was absolutely necessary that morning.  To be honest, I just squeezed the tube too hard and half the contents squirted out on me so not being wasteful I had to bring up the biggest bunch of soap bubbles you can imagine!  When totally certain I was completely soaped, scrubbed, bubbled and shampooed to perfection I turned the faucet back on, and to my absolute horror, nothing happened!  Not a single cupful of extra water anywhere in the house.  I didn’t even have a wet washcloth, since I prefer the scrubby on a stick that I’ve used for years — no, no, not the same one–I change them out regularly for, well, just fill in the blanks there on your own.  It’s amazing how sticky soap that is only toweled off can leave a person feeling.  Especially soap that has been so liberally applied.

My guest had awakened by the time I left the bathroom and she made a remark about how stiff my hair was, then said she was going to take the shower she had been looking forward to for almost an hour after my moving around woke her.  A little demon almost made me let her try it and possibly soap up before she realized the predicament, but the angel emerged in time to let her know that there was no water, no way of cooking much for breakfast, no coffee — her drink, mine being cherry coke, and no hope of that shower.  We tried phoning some restaurants in the off chance there would be one with some actual food for sale, but of course, no one was open for business that day.  Seems we never think about all the uses for water until it’s gone, or at least I hadn’t, until it is no longer there.

I sometimes make lists of things to be thankful for, and on that fateful Sunday morning water was placed at the top of that list.  That particular afternoon the National Guard trucked in several tankers of water and we were told to come to the places they were dispensing it, bringing our buckets, jugs, jars and whatever else we could pack up to hold this wonderful life giving nectar.  Jane had elected to remain with me for the duration, even though she could have driven off at any time.  We found as many containers as we could pack in the trunk of my car and drove to the station for our first of many trips to fill them, empty them in the bathtub, sinks, and every other pot, pan, pitcher and other container that could be found.  I was finally able to rinse the soap off, drench my pruny skin with lotion, and feel human again and Jane elected a sponge bath rather than dirty up our tub full of fresh, clean water!

Things You Don’t Miss At least you don't miss them until they are no longer there when you want them.  Like the ability to turn the faucet on and have water pour forth in abundance. 

[type-a-nomad]

First REAL weekend in South Africa--  Sat Feb 17- Mon Feb19

Weekend

Feb 17 Today I went on a surfing day to the beach at Big Bay.  The beach faces the main city of Cape Town and you can see Table Mountain looming over the entire place.  The view is spectacular.  Basically, the premise of the surfing day was a collaboration between two NGOs in Cape Town dedicated to helping the kids in the townships get out of the townships through extracurricular activities.  One of them is SAVE Volunteers (my people) and the other is Wings, an organization started by one of the SAVE employees from Norway who raises money to buy surfboards and wetsuits for the kids here.  Surfing has a reputation of being kind of airhead-y or unambitious, something people who just want life to be easy and relaxing seek out.  The organizations I am working with prove that wrong on so many fronts.   The most critical, to me, is the water.  The ocean is so powerful and so healthy.  I might be the only one, though this is unlikely, but when I go into the water, I am entirely filled with energy and life and consciousness.  Further, physical activity is so important for mental wellbeing and it helps these kids channel energy and frustrations from the hardships they experience daily into something that isn't self detrimental (like joining a gang or being swept up in the alcoholism and drug addiction that plagues a good amount of their parents and family members).  Another critical part is the challenge.  There is a very tangible outline of success: getting up and surfing the wave.  Thus, surfing is saving these kids’ mental wellbeing.  Or at least aiding it.  It’s incredible to see how appreciative they are for everything.  They are so excited to be there and are having fun from the second they show up till the second they leave.   I went into the water for about 45 minutes.  The waves were enormous.  I have never experienced anything like it.  There were swells of 10 feet.  A lot of the volunteers didn't go out because they were so uncomfortable with the swell.  Apparently, the waves being this big is rare.  But, this is the first time I have surfed in a year and I was anxious to just try.  So, I forced myself into a wetsuit and decided to make myself uncomfortable because that’s why I'm here— I’m not about to live timidly even though a lot of my brain wants me to.  Carpe this fucking diem.  All that.   When I got out of the water, after being crushed by many waves and ignoring the cramping in my shoulders from paddling, I was starving and grabbed my German friend, Nicole, to go to a smoothie place right near the big beach.  When we got there, I noticed they had wraps so I got a breakfast wrap.  I know this is super boring.  Who cares what I’m eating? Right? Except it’s actually a big deal, because I only eat carbs for breakfast and lunch and my body is not used to only having a small amount of protein at dinner on good days.  I’m trying to go shopping more to supplement the fact that I just eat peanut butter toast to survive here because I’m so emotionally and physically exhausted all of the time from giving every piece of myself to the kids that making something more than that is basically impossible. When I got back, I had potato salad and meatballs out of the fridge that was apart of the dinner the night before.  It was yummy but also a second lunch at 4pm and, thus, I was not very hungry when dinner rolled around at 6pm.  I got my portion of pasta and put cling wrap to save my rations for the next day.  I ate the salad and then most of a chocolate bar that I bought and designated as my “emegency chocolate bar”.  I guess craving sugar constitutes an emergency for me.  

Feb 18

I woke up at 6:20 am today because I had a zipline tour that I booked.  It was an hour and a half there and the tour was at 9 so we were going to leave at 7 so we would be sure we wouldn't be late.  I was a bit loud getting ready because I was so exhausted.  Linda, my roommate who is 60-ish, from Canada, and now retired and living in Oaxaca, Mexico.  She’s super cool and even says “eh”.  It’s very exciting.  We are starting to get kind of close.  We even gossip sometimes.   Anyways, back to ziplining.  The way I got into this in the first place was because Natasha, a British girl who lives in my house and has been very outgoing and nice to me so far, was talking about wanting to do it with somebody and asked (out of semi-desperation because others didn't want to do it) me.  I’m still not in great physical condition.  I’ve had a really bad cough since I’ve gotten here and it is showing no signs of leaving anytime soon.  Please, Mr. Cough, you are overstaying your welcome.   Natasha and I called an uber at 7.  The guy pulled up and seemed nice enough, but I was worried that he was going to kick us out when he realized how far we were going.  Directly inland 90 minutes is basically to the middle of nowhere.  When he noticed the destination he did something very, very weird. He says “Is this a cash or card trip”, uber doesn't let you pay in cash so I found this very sketchy.  We told him it was a card trip, to which he said “ don't have any cash or cards, can you pay me in cash so I can get us all the way there��.  Obviously, I am feeling a little more than weirded out at that moment because of all the horror stories we have heard about transportation, safety, and being a woman in Cape Town.  However, we were stuck.  It’s 7am, we are already out of town, we have to be at this place before 9, and this guy is offering us to take us there, just being sketchy about it.  We allow him to pull over and cancel the trip.  The quote that uber originally gave us was 750 Rand for the way there (rand to dollars is around 11:1).  He says he’ll take 500 Rand for the whole thing.  For him, it’s not actually a discount because uber takes 75% anyways and he doesn't need to pay taxes.  For us, we save 250 rand.  It’s a win-win.   We spend another hour in the car.  The man driving the uber was named Gabriel and he had lived in Cape Town for 28 years.  He didn’t even put in directions to where we were going even though it was way outside of Cape Town.  Of course he gets lost.  I don’t get why people feel the need to prove how “local” they are by doing things like that.  Just use your map.  Jeez man.  We end up having to put the map into Natasha’s phone because there is basically no service where we were so her wifi hotspot is the closest thing to internet that we had.  We roll up to the nature reserve where we are going zip lining, finally, and there is a gatehouse where you need to check in before driving one more kilometer up the road to the actual headquarters/cafe of the zip lining company.  Natasha and I realized how far in the middle of nowhere we were, but we figured we could call an uber when we were finished and it would take maybe 30 minutes to get there.  The zipline company offers no transportation to or from the middle of nowhere, there is no public transportation anywhere close, and taxis in cape town are basically unusable because they're so sketchy and they will charge you crazy amounts because they know they might get away with it.  When we get out of the car, we are told almost immediately that we need to tell our uber driver to WAIT for four hours while we zipline because we will be unable to call one when we are done because we are in the middle of the middle of nowhere.  Great!!!! What a reasonable request.  The woman at the front desk phones the gatehouse and tells Gabriel to turn around and wait for us until we are done.  He is so sweet he says that he will and we don’t even need to pay him.  Just 500 Rand there and 500 Rand back.  So $50 per person round trip for over 3 hours of driving.  Not bad.   Ziplining was hard to describe.  It was so insane every time I’ve trie dot describe it, it sounds hyperbolic.  We were driven in a big jeep-truck thing about 20 minutes through the bumpiest road I’ve ever driven on.  Several times I actually thought we were going to tip over and fall down the cliff.  The entire thing was so full of adrenaline even the car ride felt wild.  We zip lined for four hours.  Besides walking to the first platform and hiking out of the canyon, there was literally no walking, just zip lining from mountain to mountain.  It was insane.  We were hundreds of feet up.  Each zipline was 500 feet or longer.  Below us was hundreds of feet and then a rocky canyon with waterfalls and rovers throughout it.  The drought isn’t as serious the farther you get out of CT so a lot of the vegetation was green and full.  There were trees and bushes and flowers and lizards.  It was beautiful.  The dirt is red and full of clay.  Everything seemed so saturated.  In our group it was me, Natasha, and a Dutch couple who were in CT for vacation.  They were very nice.  Every time we got to the next zipine (approximately every 10 or 15 minutes), we had to jump off ourselves.  I cannot describe the amount of self control it takes to willingly jump off of a platform above a canyon hundreds of feet in the air suspended by nothing but a wire.  We were flying at up to 40 miles an hour suspended hundreds of feet above the ground.  Calling it exhilarating feels like an understatement. When I got back to my hostel, I decided to rally and go to the beach before dinner.  I covered myself in sunscreen and walked down to the ocean with some girls who live in the same building as me named Sydney, Emilie, and Natasha (same Natasha).  It was really nice.  I’m reading a book called When Things Fall Apart by Pema Chodron and every paragraph makes me stop and think about my worldview.  It’s totally fantastic and spiritual without being annoying about it.  As I am writing this, it is Monday.  This morning was rough because I have very little food here besides bread and cereal and whatever is made for dinner.  I usually go for peanut butter toast but this morning there was no peanut butter so I just had bread and butter.  I thought i could make coffee with a lot of milk for protein and I heated up my milk but then we were out of instant coffee.  Thankfully, Coll showed up and handled it and got us new food.   Coll is actually superwoman.  It is a great injustice that I have not payed tribute to her or her daughter, Shannon, since I have been blogging about my experiences in Africa.  Shannon basically runs SAVE volunteers as far as I can see. She is the go-to manager.  She runs our lives.  From having enough food, to transport, to daily activities, it’s all her (and another manager Robyn who is equally great).  Shannon is Coll’s daughter.  Coll is around 65 years old and makes dinner for us every night Monday-Saturday.  She’s vegetarian and is very evangelical about it.  At least 3 days a week I have very long conversations with her about politics, gender identity, sexism, vegetarianism, and general humanity among other things. She’s brilliant without being self important or condescending towards younger generations, even though she totally could be.  Did I mention she cooks for over a hundred people every day? Yeah, pretty wild.  Today there was no peanut butter or instant coffee and when I told her, all of a sudden peanut butter and instant coffee appeared. Here, where food is not diverse and sometimes scarce, that is nothing short of a miracle.  So, yeah, the ladies who run this program are badass and fun in all of the right ways. 

Currently, I am having a lot of trouble deciding if I’m leaving South Africa.  If you are reading this and have advice, I need it.  Fill my ears.  I want to be on the beach and the project I thought I was going to go to next is in Turkey and it’s cold and not on the beach.  I know this sounds small and kind of self-indulgent and a priority only a teenager would have, but it’s actually a big deal for me.  My quality of life by the water changes a lot.  Having access to go to the beach, and swim, walk, etc. gives me so much energy.  I love the energy of towns near the beach and it makes me want to stay in Table View, South Africa because everything here is set up and I’m near the beach, even though I don’t particularly feel a strong need to do exactly this kind of volunteering for a whole extra month.  I have been looking for places in Central and South America because I would love to improve my Spanish, but almost all of those would be working at a hostel which I think would be fun and I could meet lots of people and work on my language skills, but my parents would see it as pretty meaningless and I don’t blame them.  It doesn't help other people, it would just be fun, new, casual, and something I probably an experience I would never have again.  If anyone knows of a permaculture farm on the beach somewhere where it is warm (besides Australia, I know there are tons there but I don’t want to ask for the money for that plane flight), please let me know.  I don’t want to take away from my experience here by looking everywhere for a new project, but I am also itching to go new places after this and only have clothes and supplies to be in warm weather, and the emotional disposition to be at the beach.  I don’t want to just sit around.  Meaningful work is, well, meaningful, but the environment in which I am doing that work is super important to me as well because I only get one Gap Year and it is going to be a while before I go to do something this eccentric and carefree again.  Harvard isn’t a beach vacation.  

Peace, Q

[100tipshealth]

Your Christmas Day feasting game plan

  Prep yourself this Christmas with our extensive game plan that will see you enjoying the festivities without the guilt. Stephanie Osfield writes.

  Christmas dinner is one of the biggest culinary deals of the year. If you only had to navigate that one day, things would be sweet – but it’s the drinks and parties and picnics and BBQs throughout the festive season that can bite. This means you’re out of your usual routine and not always cooking. You don’t want to look like you’re being all bah-humbug and not getting into the Christmas spirit, so you’ll be eating festive food. But you also don’t want to spend each event battling recriminations because you had too many chocolates.

Overthinking it? Absolutely not. Recent research published in The New England Journal of Medicine showed that in Germany, Japan and the US, holiday celebrations such as Thanksgiving and Golden Week do lead to weight gain. But the biggest kilos spike across the board occurred in the 10 days after Christmas. During this time, Germans gained an average 0.8 kilograms, Americans 0.6 kg and Japanese participants an average of 0.5 kg. And although most of those study participants shed roughly half of that weight, some of it remained. Consider the cumulative impact over time (the term ‘kilo creep’ persists for a reason).

If you’re torn between sanctioned excess and an ascetic festive season with BYO almonds, follow our experts’ plan to have your Christmas cake and eat it.

1. All Or Nothing Thinking

  You Think: ‘I just broke my eating rules – I might as well eat whatever I want for the rest of the night.’

The Fallout:

“All or nothing thinking is a worrying cognitive distortion that contributes to overeating,” says Sarah McMahon, psychologist and body image expert at Sydney’s BodyMatters Australasia. “It can lead you to eat far more than you would have done if you had just given yourself permission to have a little of what you like.”

Your Christmas Comeback:

» Be compassionate towards yourself: “The fact is that most of us will eat more ‘sometimes’ and ‘occasional’ food at Christmas time,” says McMahon. “The best thing to do is to allow yourself this pleasure, enjoy the food and trust that you and your body can handle it.”

» Eat mindfully: “When you slow down to savour each mouthful of food, you not only enjoy it more, your body and mind connect, so you start to notice when you are full,” says McMahon.

» View treats as a temporary detour: Yes, last night you had garlic bread and canapés. And today? You’re back on your usual track, eating three healthy meals and healthy snacks.

» Plate up your snacks: Even at parties where you can bring a food contribution like sushi and paper plates to serve it on. “This helps you to see how much you are eating so it is easier to realise when you’ve had enough,” says dietitian and nutritionist Rebecca Gawthorne.

» Serve your leftovers to go: If you’ve had friends over for dinner and know you won’t be able to resist the rest of the cheesecake or lasagna, serve it into take-away containers and send your guests home with the leftovers.

    2. Nostalgia

You Think: ‘I love fruit pudding, mince pies, White Christmas and the turkey stuffing – they all remind me of when I was a child and how easy and uncomplicated life was.’

The Fallout:

“Christmas foods typically have many layers of emotion attached to them,” says McMahon. “Firstly, some of the foods on offer, such as crackling or Christmas pudding, are things you only eat once a year. This in itself can make the food more desirable.

“Often we feel comfort and nostalgia in relation to Christmas food. Unfortunately this can lead us to keep eating more and more to fill an emotional void with food, when in reality, eating that is driven by emotions and not hunger is rarely satiating.”

Your Christmas Comeback:

» Reality check: “Ask yourself  ‘Am I hungry?’ and, in particular, ‘What am I hungry for?’”  suggests McMahon. “If you know that what you really crave is closeness or connection, honour those feelings and respond to them. Talk to your partner or a trusted sibling about your feelings or write them down. Satisfy those emotions but don’t feed them. Ask someone for a hug or do something nostalgic – look through old photos, or maybe write a journal about your feelings.”

» Give old favourite foods a health spin: For example, if you associate Christmas with fizzy drinks, buy some mineral water and add a dash of a colourful juice like grape juice. Or if Christmas chocolate was your favourite thing, still have a little, but make it a handmade dark chocolate so that it looks amazing (and has health benefits for your heart), and only eat two.

» Channel your inner child: Engage in some games you used to play as a child rather than hoeing into the food. Try board games such as Scrabble and Monopoly, or charades, or picnic games like tag and stuck in the mud.

          3. Using Food To Self-Pamper

You Think: ‘I’ve had a really difficult year and I deserve to give myself this reward of lashings of yummy food and wine.’

The Fallout:

“Using food as the ultimate holiday treat puts food on a pedestal, as though it can magically fix everything that’s not working in your life and make you feel better,” says McMahon. Fast-forward a few hours after the chocolates and chips or second serving of dessert and you will still be carrying the same emotional baggage. But now you’ll have some food guilt to add to it.

Your Christmas Comeback:

» Take just a few bites: Serve yourself a little of the foods you wouldn’t normally indulge in but just take a few bites to satisfy you and don’t eat the rest. Or enjoy just a small sliver of dessert. Research from Cornell University shows that people who eat small serves of treat foods feel just as satisfied 15 minutes later as those who ate far bigger portions. Another study at Stanford University has found that people who ate only three salty crackers were more satisfied than those who ate 15 crackers.

» Seek non-food rewards: Treat yourself to a few great books for Christmas and daily indulgences over the holidays such as enjoying breakfast al fresco or going for a sunset walk with all the family. “Remind yourself that the major perks of Christmas are not the meals but spending time with family and friends and enjoying a break from work,” says McMahon.

» Avoid second serves: Instead, have a tall glass of water or a nice hot cup of tea. If that doesn’t work and you still feel hungry, go back to have a second serve of salad and vegetables.

        4. Suffering Clean Eating Fatigue

You Think: ‘I’m tired of being good. I’m going to feast all through the holidays and work it off at the gym later.’

The Fallout:

“Gorging yourself during the holidays and thrashing yourself at the gym later is a dangerous trap that perpetuates an unhealthy and disconnected relationship between food and your body,” says McMahon. “A feast and famine kind of approach is not helpful to maintaining a healthy weight.” Losing weight is also a trickier prospect than many people realise so you may find that your holiday weight does not all come off, even if you’re working out hard and eating clean.

Christmas Comeback:

» Stick to your usual eating pattern: “If you’re eating out, choose the grilled fish and vegies instead of the creamy pasta," says Gawthorne. Meanwhile, skip foods you would never normally have, such as soft drinks, bread rolls at dinner, gravy and sour cream on your potatoes.”

Eating at a friend’s house? Offer to bring a huge salad so that you can serve a big plate of that and eat less of the more kilojoule-laden healthy fare.

» Work out as usual: Abandoning your exercise routine at the very time of year that you normally eat more doesn’t make any sense. “Exercise makes every cell more sensitive to insulin, so glucose enters your cells more easily,” says Christine Armarego, exercise physiologist from Sydney’s Glucose Club. “This means your pancreas doesn’t need to send out as much insulin to manage your blood glucose levels.” In turn this helps to reduce weight gain over the festive season.

» Remember – this effect is dose-dependent. “Twenty-four hours after you work out, your insulin sensitivity peaks,” Armarego explains. “Within 48 hours it has returned to what it was. That’s why daily exercise is best to keep insulin sensitivity at its highest. If you can’t manage that, try not to let more than 48 hours pass between exercise sessions.”

By contrast, if you’re a couch potato all holidays, “Higher glucose levels and insulin can lead to increased fatigue and make it harder for your body to access fats stores to burn for energy,” Armarego says.

So keep up some kind of exercise all through Christmas. And if at all possible, exercise on Christmas day – either by engaging in a workout after the present opening, or by enjoying a long family walk over lunch.

        5. Starving to Save Up Kilojoules

You Think: ‘I purposely haven’t eaten a thing all day so that I can let my hair down at Christmas lunch.’

The Fallout:

“This is a classic Christmas mistake,” says Gawthorne. “You are likely to be so ravenous that you serve a huge portion and then go back for seconds, which could cause a huge kilojoule blowout.”

Christmas Comeback:

» Eat three meals: Have a simple breakfast of eggs and rye toast and eat a salad for lunch. This will ensure you’re not starving with hunger and supersize your helpings at Christmas functions and then regret it the next day.

» Go for vegies first: “Serve a stack of salad and vegetables (at least half your plate) first then serve the other foods,” Gawthorne suggests. “The more vegies you eat, the more nutrients and fibre you enjoy and the less likely you will be to overindulge in other foods. It will also help portion control the other high-kilojoule foods because you will only have a little room for them on your plate.”

» Choose a smaller plate: Put a larger plate underneath it so it has the illusion of looking even bigger. When you serve your meal, you will feel that you are eating a huge feast even though you are not overdoing your intake of kilojoules.

» Pick three favourites: Rather than go for everything from the roast potatoes and gravy to the crackling, pick three favourite high-kilojoule foods to really savour in small portions. Then fill the rest of your plate with super-healthy salads and vegetables.

        6. Using Alcohol to Unwind

You Think: ‘That champagne is really giving me a nice buzz after weeks of stress. I’m going to help myself relax by having a few more.’

The Fallout:

Because it’s a drink, we often completely ignore that alcohol can pack a powerful kilojoule punch. “Beer, wine, spirits and cocktails are all high in calories and devoid of any good nutrition, so there is no nutritional benefit gained from consuming them,” says Gawthorne.

“While I don’t think there is too much of an issue with consuming small, safe amounts of one to two standard drinks of alcohol on social occasions, it’s important not to look at Christmas and New Year’s as an excuse to drink to excess. This will lead to weight gain and could cause potential health issues (such as hangovers and stomach irritation).”

Remember, alcohol often comes alongside foods like salty nuts and chips that may be harder to resist once we’ve had a few. “And if you’re feeling worse for wear the next day, you may also indulge in a big fatty breakfast,” Gawthorne adds.

Christmas Comeback:

» Make a trade-off: Decide how you are going to spend your kilojoules before each function. “If you want to indulge, for example, in a slice of your favourite Christmas cake after dinner, then you won’t want to be drinking lots of alcohol,” Gawthorne says. “Or if you want to enjoy a few alcoholic drinks, then you might need to forgo the dessert or avoid the high-kilojoule cheeses after dinner.”

» De-stress without alcohol: Not only is the lead-up to Christmas rushed and stressed for many people, but being with family is often super stressful too. So take time to stop and recharge your batteries. That may mean you engage in daily meditation, a morning swim or time out to read a book from cover to cover. The less stressed you are and the more enjoyable your Christmas holiday, the less likely you are to use food as a Christmas feelgood crutch.

  NEXT: Beat the Christmas snacking blowout with these top tips. 

  {nomultithumb}

  Source : Diet & Nutrition http://ift.tt/2kOxEcr from Blogger http://ift.tt/2BkM92G

[acrossthemar]

Europe 2019

5 countries, 6 cities, 18 days, 3 planes, 2 trains, and 1 rental car later, our European adventure is over.  This blog is mostly for my personal documentation of our trip, but I hope that it might also serve as a somewhat enjoyable read for anyone who might be interested in our travel! 

First Stop: Lake Como, Italy 

Day 1: An overnight flight from NYC to Milan, followed by an almost two hour car drive to Lake Como, we were quite tired when we arrived at our inn around 4pm. But our first mission was to beat the jet lag––absolutely no going to bed before 9pm despite our exhaustion. Our inn, Villa La Rosa B&B, was absolutely lovely, a beautiful family run property overlooking Lake Como and the surrounding mountains. We walked into the village, a short walk down a cobblestone alley, and quickly familiarized ourselves with the area. We then came back to our inn to sit by the pool for a bottle of champagne and a meat and cheese platter. (This would soon become a theme of the trip––18 days later and I think our ending ratio was 1 meat and cheese platter per every 2 days). We came back inside around 7 and both accidentally fell asleep––we woke up again at 8 and forced ourselves to head to the village for gelato. It was still light out and we were firm about our 9pm bed time. Eating gelato while half asleep was an experience I’m not sure I’d recommend.

Day 2: We started the day with a three mile run through the village. I love how this kills two birds with one stone, fitting in a workout on vacation and seeing areas you otherwise wouldn’t get to on foot. More thoughts on exercise and vacation below (a). After our run we spent the morning by the pool to read and have breakfast...and then very soon after have lunch at an Italian sandwich shop. When in Italy right? We hopped on a ferry to the nearby town of Veranna––spent the afternoon walking around, exploring, and kayaking. Came back to the inn and played cards over a bottle of champagne. Dinner that night was at La Punta, a lovely restaurant on the water. Favorite dish was the Salmon Pasta! (Cheese & meat plate #2 was also ordered.)

Day 3: This day was hard for me, I was absolutely exhausted. The jet lag plan didn’t work, and I was up more than half the night. Really jealous of those who can sleep on planes and aren’t affected by jet lag. Anyway, we took it easy that day. Spent some time reading by the pool and then we found an amazing pizza spot (Antico Pozzo) in town for a very late lunch. Such. good. pizza. (below). We were so full that dinner ended up being a combination of a beer tasting, cheese and meat plate (#3), and gelato.

Day 4: We then spent the morning reading by the pool and got another meat and cheese platter (#4) before we headed back to Milan to catch our flight to Munich. Quick note about the drive from Lake Como to Milan Airport––the streets were SO narrow and clearly built for only one car but they were all two way streets! Very scary! (see below)

Overall: LOVED Lake Como. Quaint city, stunning views in all directions, Italian food, cobblestone streets, the list goes on. It was far less touristy and crowded than we predicted, and the beauty felt natural. I think in my head I was picturing a similar feel to Santorini, which don’t get me wrong I loved, but Santorini is SO touristy and so manicured that it almost doesn’t feel real. I would DEFINITELY come back here.

Second Stop: Munich, Germany

Day 1: We successfully navigated public transit from the Airport to our hotel despite there being 1) no one to ask for help 2) no information desk 3) not speaking a word of German. Our hotel (Hotel Excelsior) was in a perfect central location. More on this below (b). We had a DELICIOUS dinner our first night in Munich at Munchner Stubn. Highlights included sausage, meatloaf, pretzel, potato salad, and absolutely massive beers. My gosh I felt so full after. Quick note about the sausage––the dish came with two sausages, one was really tasty and the other truly tasted exactly like a Yankee Stadium hot dog. I left that one on my plate.

Day 2: Still very jet lagged. For the first week or so of the trip I wasn’t falling asleep until at least 2 and couldn’t wake up until 10 (very different from my normal 11pm-7am). We found a local gym in Munich––unfortunately we paid 20 euros each for the gym and right after we paid a kind man came up to us and let us know about a gym with a free trial right down the street. I had a VERY weird experience in the sauna at this 20 euro gym. After my work out, I hopped in the sauna to sit and attempt some planks. A *completely* naked middle aged German lady started SCREAMING at me (I know I tend to exaggerate a lot but really this time I am not exaggerating, she was screaming) saying that I was not allowed to be in the sauna unless I was naked. What???? Big language barrier here, but she knew enough English to convey that I had to be nude if I wanted to stay. Anyway, she proceeded to tell me that if I had a towel it would be okay so I went to the front desk and asked for a towel, came back to the sauna to sit on the towel and she then yelled at me again and escorted me out. Never got my planks in that day. Anyway, post work out we had a great lunch at Hofbrauhaus Beer Hall. Delicious Spatzle and a cheese and meat platter (#5). I also found a beer that I LOVED called a Radler that I really wish was more prevalent in the states. I’ve really converted into a beer drinking person this summer, and finding a beer that tastes mostly like lemonade and not at all like beer was instrumental in moving this along. This beer hall felt very touristy but there seemed to be a ton of locals there so we couldn’t quite figure out how touristy it actually was. There was live music (on a Monday at 2pm) and a woman carrying a pretzel box selling pretzels. Yankee Stadium or Beer Hall in Germany am I right? We then did a ton of exploring by foot––Victual’s Farmers Market, the Jewish Quarter, the Munich Residenz, and finally rented Lime Scooters to head to the English Garden. Loved the English Garden! Super beautiful and serene. There was a really heavy current in the stream and people were surfing!  I’ve said this 8 million times before but scooters really change the transit game and I wish that NYC was more scooter-compatible. We then walked to Marienplatz Square and went up the tower for city views. After this we were exhausted and went home to read. I finally finished Educated! We then went to an Italian restaurant for dinner which we found *ironic*.

Day 3: We took the kind stranger’s advice and found the gym with the free trial. Although I forgot the conversion of Kilometers to Miles so I accidentally ran a VERY slow 3 miles on a treadmill. I remember thinking “wow, this feels so easy I have so much energy today!” Nope Mara you were really just running at 6 MPH pace and so it actually was easy. We found a funky lunch spot called Marais which doubled as an antique store, and then took public transit to Dachau Concentration Camp. Public transit in Munich is so weird! First, no one checks your ticket––it’s total honor code. Apparently they occasionally check tickets and if you’re caught without one it’s a big fine, but 9 times out of 10 no one is checking. We did buy a day pass and I kinda wish we instead beat the system and didn’t pay haha! The second wild thing is that trains SPLIT in half and go in different directions, so you have to pay super close attention to which car you get on. So an 8 car train will go together for the first 5 stops, and then at stop 6 it will physically split in half and the first 4 cars go one direction and the other 4 go another! I feel like I never have a good sense of which car I’m on in a train so this sounds stressful. And while I’m naming funny Munich transit things––this one might be the most bizarre. Absolutely NO ONE in Munich crosses the street until it says ‘walk’, even when there are literally no cars coming in any direction. We were the ONLY people to cross the street, even after carefully checking that it was clear in all directions. They don’t even think to LOOK to see if it’s safe, they just sit there and passively wait. Am I really that much of a rushed and brainwashed New Yorker or is this totally bizarre? I really think it’s the latter! Moving on, Dachau Concentration Camp was really powerful and definitely worth the trip. I liked how it offered both a museum and preserved + reproduced areas of the concentration camp. We thought it was powerful how Dachau managed to simultaneously portray the Holocaust as part of our. history while still providing emotional, personal, and humanizing stories.  After this, we headed back for a final round of German beer and then dinner in Marienplatz Square. On our last morning it down-poured, see below (c), so we fit in a quick work out at the free gym and headed to the train station.

Overall: Munich was a series of oversized beers, lots of walking and exploring, and really good but filling food. We liked Munich a lot, but we both actually rated is as our least favorite stop on the trip if we had to rank. It’s a very modern city, which at least to me makes it feel less exciting, and almost as if I could be anywhere?

Third Stop: Prague, Czech Republic

Day 1: We took a 6 hour train from Munich to Prague and had an entire cabin to ourselves! The train split in half mid way through the ride, so we were grateful to have been in the right car! It was a long trip, but overall painless. We were able to walk directly from the train station to our hotel. Quick shout out to train travel, isn’t it awesome? You don’t have to show up early, you don’t have to check luggage, train stations tend to be more centrally located than airports so it’s an easy trek to your final destination (Hotel Innside Prague in this case), and you don’t have to worry that you’ll die in a plane crash! Shout out to all my anxious flyers. Anyone? Anyway, we started the night at Lokal Beer Hall for beer (shocker) and Bread and Potato Dumplings with Goulash sauce. This is a local food that truly looks like poop but tasted so good! We then went to Kolkovna restaurant for more traditional Czech cuisine––Smazeny Syr (fried cheese balls, yum) and more goulash sauce and meat.

Day 2: Our hotel had a gym which I’m going to rename as a “fitness room” as it consisted of one treadmill and one semi working elliptical. But hey it got the job done. I’m sad to say that neither Munich nor Prague had nice river paths to run on (this was a major perk of our Portugal trip a few years ago, both Porto and Lisbon have beautiful running paths on the water). This hotel had a very nice buffet breakfast (see footnote on breakfast struggles below) so we made sure to get there in time. Read: one minute before it closed. We started the day with a walk to Old Town and a trip to the top of the Astronomical Clock Tower for city views. We were the only people in our group to opt for the stairs/ramp to the top…everyone else took the elevator. Isn’t half the fun of getting to the top the hard work you put in making the trek? Or maybe I really do like stairs more than I give myself credit for! Next stop was the Prague Sex Machines Museum, which was unexpectedly really interesting? Think rooms full of preserved ancient sex toys and machines. We then walked to the Jewish Quarter, saw a few Synagogues and got Trdelnik (bread with cinnamon). We then walked to the Vltava River all the way up to the Zofin Gardens where we rented a paddle boat. Sounds fun right? What was even MORE fun was when we found a “drive through” bar where we got beers for the “road.” This was a fun activity and we got a great feel for both sides of the river. After that we went to Wenceslas Square and stopped at the Vytopna Railway Restaurant: think train tracks at every table and the train delivers your drink! I feel like if we opened up one of these in NYC it would be a hit. Anyone want to be my business partner on this? Next stop was IcePub Prague (an ice bar, where everything even the glasses and chairs are made fully of ice). It was FRIGID. We were only allotted 20 minutes and I lasted just 15 of them. Last stop was dinner at Noi Thai Restaurant across the river. We walked along the Charles Bridge to get there which was really lovely and is one of the most beautiful bridges in Europe! We hit 29,500 steps this day according to my FitBit and then I *cried* when it hit midnight and I realized we were so close to 30k but just. not. quite.

Day 3: Morning started in the same way––buffet breakfast in the hotel. This has been the summer of only dairy/carbs so I really had to capitalize on the fresh fruit at the buffet. Today was also LAUNDRY DAY. Yes, the less glamorous parts of an 18 day trip, especially when you like to work out so have a bag of sweaty gym clothes to lug around.  The laundry was so damn expensive, it cost us $70 to do a day of drop off. Even in NYC this would be like $20 so I’m confused because Prague is otherwise SO CHEAP. Like so cheap-–two beers, an appetizer, and two entrees and we’d walk away with a $30 bill. Uh can I keep my job at Schoology and work remotely from Prague and pocket all the extra cash? Yes please! After dropping off our laundry we went to the John Lennon Wall––we liked this but it felt more like “here’s this thing in Prague you have to see to check off your list.” We then walked to Petrin Hill which ended up being a VERY STEEP HIKE that we did not expect but ended up going through with. I was very sweaty.  We finally got to the top and went up a very high tower for extraordinary views. The wind was shaking the top of the tower and I definitely spent a few minutes worrying for my life. I think I’ve become more risk averse with age and I’m not sure how to process the shift. The bathrooms at the top of Petrin Hill were 2 euros each so I decided to hold in my pee because #principles. see footnote (d). We then went to the Church of St. Nicholas which was really beautiful, and then the Castle District. We mostly just walked around here, decided not to pay the steep price to go inside. Next stop was Letna Park for the Letna Beer Garden. This was our first 30,000 step day (wahoo) so we very much needed the beer and Smazeny Syr (cheese balls). Dinner that night was at Cafe Mistral––Eric loved his burger if you’d like a recommendation. We then stumbled upon a jazz concert in the old town square, stayed for a bit and then headed back to the hotel to play Cribbage!

Overall: We loved Prague! Prague is a city that I wished I’d visited back in the day when I studied abroad, so I was super excited to check it out. It has the old European feel, and there’s a ton to do AND yummy food.

Fourth Stop: Vienna, Austria 

Day 1: We took an easy four hour train to Vienna and checked into our hotel (Hotel Capricorno) by 5pm. There was champagne and a fruit platter (grapes!) waiting in our hotel room! We started with a walk to the Hundertwasser House and accompanying street––basically funky artwork and paintings on a pedestrian only street. The building is an actual apartment building and it was the first in Vienna to allow residents to decorate the outside of their windows. And THEN!!!! I found my NAME on a souvenir license plate at a souvenir shop. Why am I so excited, you might ask? This is a huge deal. I have spent almost three decades stopping at every single name-souvenir shop to check if they had Mara. They have NEVER HAD MARA. My name does not exist in any of the name banks. Anywhere! But it existed HERE!! I only bought one and I’m now regretting that choice and wishing I bought a few more to go around! After my excitement died down and I could breathe again, we walked to Prater Park and went up the massive Ferris wheel for city views. We then found some apple strudel (a staple in Vienna) for some pre dinner dessert, and then walked almost two miles to Said the Butcher to the Cow––a great restaurant that specializes in burgers and gin!

Day 2: Today I found the only spin studio (Super Cycle) in Vienna and I went to a class! This was really cool. First of all, I love spin and was having some withdrawal, and it was so cool to see a spin class in another country! It was rhythm based, similar to a studio I frequent in NYC (Ryde). And interestingly enough, even though almost everyone there was Austrian, the class was in English? We then went to tour the Vienna Opera House which we loved! A fun fact from our tour is that the emperor who initially commissioned the opera house actually hated it so he’d sit in the intermission room during shows instead of watching. A lot of the opera house was destroyed in WWII (which is true of a lot of Vienna), so a lot has been rebuilt. We then rented Lime Scooters to head to the Vienna Zoo which is situated in Schonbrunn Park by the castle. Favorite animal by far: elephants! They are just mesmerizing, I think we could have just stared at them for a full hour. We also watched a cheetah chase his/her lunch which was cool because I don’t think I’d ever before seen a cheetah run in real life. After the zoo, we took a steep walk to the castle and then Uber’d home. This is day #3 in a row of 30k steps so my legs were GIVING OUT. At night we went to a Mozart and Strauss Concert at the Kurlason Theatre. We had no idea what to expect but it was phenomenal––a mix of orchestra, dancing, and opera. It was really impressive, a lovely venue, and just overall fun because this is not something we’d normally do back at home. After the opera we just really wanted pizza so we found a pizza shop and chowed down. We then came home and played (maybe 6) games of Rummy. Our hotel had a set and we really took advantage. I beat Eric in all 6 games and thought I was the better player but STAY TUNED for later evidence that we are in fact evenly matched 😞

Day 3: FINALLY, a running path by the river! Very nice path by the Vienna River, we ran 4 miles and I was thrilled. There was a ton of cool wall art and murals surrounding the path. We then walked to NaschMarkt (massive permanent market with way too many lunch options to choose from!). We then went outside of Vienna proper to the Vienna Woods for some hiking! Eric found the hike online and I was pessimistic because sometimes it’s really hard (even in the states) to successfully find the start of a hike and I didn’t want to get lost. But this ended up being a major success. It was roughly a 5 mile hike, and instead of hiking to the top for a great view, the entire hike was filled with small outlooks and scenic areas. Every half mile or so we stumbled upon something beautiful and stopped to take in the scenery. Enter: 30k step day number four!!! We then took the scariest Uber ride home of my entire life, this driver was out of his damn mind, swerving like a maniac. I wrote a complaint to Uber and they refunded the entire trip which was good of them but really this man needs to be off the road. For dinner that night we went to Frattelli’s Italian Restaurant followed by gelato…and then played more Rummy.  On our last morning it rained (duh, see point (c) below), and Eric tried to check out the Spanish Horse Riding School but the line was too long so we couldn’t get in. We then picked up our rental car for the last two legs of our trip and my gosh it was so expensive. The fee for returning a car in another country is EXORBITANT.

Overall: We liked Vienna a lot. We made amazing food choices on this entire trip and truly didn’t have a single meal that we didn’t like. We really enjoyed our activities in Vienna, they felt unique and really added to the overall variance of our trip.

Fifth Stop: Ljubljana, Slovenia

Day 1: Before I get to Ljubljana, quick note about how we got pulled over at the Austrian-Slovenian border by border control! We were randomly chosen, we didn’t actually do anything wrong, but two border control officers started running and waving their hands for us to pull over. They made us open our trunk and checked our luggage, scanned our rental car agreement and took our passports to some back room. I was relieved when they said we were free to go. Anyway, separate from that minor hiccup, Ljubljana is absolutely amazing. Truth be told, I don’t even think I’d heard of Ljubljana before starting to plan this trip. A few people told us it was a hidden gem in Europe and if possible we should really include it in our itinerary, and they were really right! I LOVED this place. Just everything about it, the culture, the aesthetics, the food, the ADORABLE pedestrian only village. It felt magical. On our first night, we rented bikes from our hotel (Adora Hotel) and biked to Tivoli Park. We then walked into the village and bar hopped for the night. The village is so cute, there are lots of adorable bridges and every restaurant has outdoor seating by the water. At our first stop we got two beers for a total of 4 euros (yay for inexpensive European beer), then we went to Dvorni Bar for a beautiful looking Meat and Cheese Platter (#6) and then to Slovenska Hisa for cocktails served in Smucker’s Jam Jars and ANOTHER meat and cheese platter (#7). My cocktail had vodka and apple juice in it––this might not mean much to you but if you knew how much I loved apple juice it would! My mother gave me apple juice every morning as a kid and it’s her biggest parenting regret because her now adult-aged daughter is still borderline addicted to apple juice.

Day 2: We started the day with a four mile run around the Ljubljana River. Very nice path but very crowded so by the end of our run there was some weaving through people required. We then drove to Smarna Gora (the highest hill in Ljubljana) for a hike. We followed some sketchy Google Maps directions to the bottom of the mountain but it ALL WORKED OUT and it was beautiful! Very steep, passed a lot of cows, and made it to the top very sweaty. The top was really gorgeous––we got some ice cream truck quality ice cream and sat on a bench to cool down. The hike back down was so steep that I almost had to run to give into gravity. We then drove to Bled Lake. We parked in a grocery store parking lot and stopped to buy some snacks (grapes and beer, lol). Aren’t foreign grocery stores fun? We walked about half the perimeter of the lake (it was a range of paths, docks, and swim areas), and then picked a spot to drink our beers and read. At night we went back into Ljubljana’s Village and bought a love lock for the bridge. Right after I put the lock on the bridge (pictured below) I stood up too quickly and absolutely SMASHED my head on the bridge overhang. Hey if you don’t know me I’m a struggling hypochondriac and I DID think I was going to die in a similar fashion to Natasha Richardson (who had no symptoms at first just like me) and I also made Eric wake me up in the middle of the night to make sure I was still alive. (I was). After I decided I was well enough to move again, we had a DELICIOUS dinner at Pop’s Place. I don’t even like burgers and it was the best burger I’ve ever had.

Day 3: Eric and I split up on this day––he wanted to tour the castle and I wanted to check out the craft market in town. We hardly bought any souvenirs on our trip. The craft market in Ljubljana was the only time I bought anything (a few small trinkets and a pair of $10 pants that I’ve now worn for the last three days straight). Oh AND, and this is important, I found a toy store in Ljubljana and bought us a set of Rummy. We were so addicted after playing so many rounds in Vienna that we absolutely needed it for our last stop. We then got really yummy tuna sandwiches (love tuna) and it obviously started to rain right as we were heading to our car to go to Italy. (See (c) below).

Overall: Just going to reiterate how amazing of a city (and country) this is. We had such a nice time and it was the perfect addition to our trip. I would definitely go back and spend more time here.

Sixth Stop: Countryside Retreat near Verona, Italy

Day 1: What a perfect last stop to our trip (Tenuta La Cave). I can’t even explain. A beautiful retreat nestled in the mountains of wine country Italy. It was so gorgeous and just a perfect place to relax and rewind after an adventurous two weeks in Europe. I love Italy so much (ask Eric how many times I’ve said this over the last few days lol he will roll his eyes). Beautiful views, well manicured and simple property, and so high up that you have a view of multiple cities below. We ordered a bottle of champagne and played a few rounds of Rummy before having dinner at the hotel outdoor restaurant. We discovered the best dessert ever (crostini? Basically ricotta cheese with peach and ice cream in a thin crust?) that we proceeded to have all three nights in a row. 

Day 2: Swam some laps in the pool, played a lot of rummy, read a ton of my book, had lots of yummy Italian food (meat and cheese platter #8 for lunch), what more can you ask for? I also splurged on a massage at the hotel Spa. I got a “Californian Massage” which I assumed (based on the description) was similar to a Swedish Massage which is what I normally get back home. It was similar except that you had to be completely naked, like totally naked with a stranger which felt very weird to me.

Day 3: Similar to yesterday, soaked in the views, read by the pool, lots of Rummy, lots of champagne, lots of pasta, (meat and cheese #9). We then went into Verona (the nearest city) for the evening. We walked around and found the most incredible homemade tortellini shop, truly the best tortellini we’ve ever had in our lives. We took it to go and ate on a bench by the river. It was so good that we went back to get more, but it was CLOSED!!! Isn’t that the worst feeling? We were mentally committed to getting more tortellini and it was CLOSED!! Anyway, if you are ever in Verona go to Trattoria Della Gina and order tortellini! We then came back to our hotel and had champagne and the Crostini desert under the gazebo for our last night. And then played rummy (duh). Eric beat me 5 times in a row so circling back to my earlier point, I lost my rummy-ego and I now believe him that we are *similarly* matched.

Footnotes

(a) On our 18 day trip, I fit in 15 workouts. Some were short, only 20 minutes or so, but some form of exercise on 15 of the 18 days. I love staying active––it’s part of my routine, it makes me happy, and is really a form of therapy for me. I love maintaining this part of my life on vacation––I like feeling active. It gives me both physical and mental energy to carry with me throughout the day. Reflecting on this, I realized that in the past I might have felt embarrassed, and not gone out of my way to admit that I worked out all but 3 days on an 18 day trip. "It’s vacation!" "Why aren’t you relaxing?” “You’re the only person to actually use the hotel gym!” "You’re crazy!” I’ve been told all of these things. Previously I might have believed them and kept my workout habits to myself. As I reflect on this, I’d like to boldly reject all of that. I am proud as hell to have the discipline and motivation to stay active on a 2+ week trip to Europe. I am grateful that I truly like exercise, and I will continue to prioritize this when I travel.

(b) Our last Europe trip together was in 2017 to Portugal and Greece. This time around, with two more working years under our belt, Eric and I decided we could afford a “nicer” trip. Not to say our last trip wasn’t nice, it was wonderful, but our hotel budget was less than $100/night and we stayed at primarily upscale hostels and b&b's. This year we agreed to treat ourselves by upping our budget and letting ourselves splurge a bit on “real" hotels. A few takeaways from this. 1) It’s great to stay in a nice place, but we realized that we value it MUCH more when staying in a remote area (read: Lake Como + Italian Countryside), rather than in a city. Realistically, the purpose of your hotel in a major city is to sleep, and so it felt less important to be in a nice place, as we were mostly out and about anyway. So note to self, splurge more in remote areas, less in big cities. 2) The most important thing is a central location. I have to say, and Eric would attest, we did an AMAZING job finding centrally located hotels for this trip. Every single one of our hotels was in the absolute prime location, and it really made the trip wonderful. All this to say, when in a city, central location is the first most important thing, then comes how nice the hotel is. 3) When planning a trip, I find I’m always enticed by breakfast being included in the rate. Yet every time, I regret this decision. Here’s why: When breakfast is included, I feel an obligation to eat it––we’ve paid for it haven’t we? It feels financially irresponsible to skip the free breakfast and eat elsewhere. BUT a) the breakfast always ends so early that we have to force ourselves up (especially when you account for jet lag) b) we’re usually not even hungry that early c) as someone who likes exercising on vacation, this means I have to not only wake up in time for breakfast but wake up in time for a work out AND be back in time for breakfast. Not happening. d) Eric and I are foodies. Half the reason we travel is to explore new cuisines and try the local food. If we have the hotel breakfast, then we aren’t really hungry for a full lunch, and then we miss out on local cuisine! ALL THIS TO SAY––note to self, stop caring about the free breakfast when booking hotels in the future. That said, not to toot my own horn but I really plan great trips, I believe I am the perfect amount detail oriented to make strong itineraries and I’m considering opening up a side business called “Mara’s Maps” where I sell my itineraries. Do you think this could work? If you have a better name idea please let me know!

(c) We really lucked out with weather on this trip. Oddly enough, it rained on EVERY single travel day of our trip, but never on a full day at any of our stops. Truly, it rained when we traveled from Lake Como to Munich, Munich to Prague, Prague to Vienna, Vienna to Ljubljana, and Ljubljana to Italy. Is this travel fate or what? Separately, we also are so grateful that nothing went actually wrong on this trip. In addition to the weather, every flight and train was more or less on time, our hotels were all great, no major hiccups, overall a very smooth trip (which to be honest, with 6 stops is a pretty impressive win!).

(d) It really is bonkers to me that you have to pay to use the bathroom and pay for water in most European countries. In some ways, Europe feels very progressive compared to the US (think gun laws + health care), but this just feels so backwards to me. Shouldn’t water and bathroom usage be viewed as basic rights? For them to cost money is outlandish to me. Also, just something I noticed, I didn’t spot a single gender neutral bathroom ANYWHERE. Completely unrelated and on a positive note, European bike paths feel much safer than US bike paths (or maybe I shouldn’t generalize and I’ll just say NYC bike paths). There is a separate side walk area just for bikes that’s further removed from the cars so it really feels safer.

This trip was really something special. We are so acutely aware of how lucky we are to have been able to travel like this. We both have salaried jobs with flexible PTO where we don’t have to worry about missing a pay check to travel and I’m just so grateful that this type of vacation was possible. Reflecting over dessert on our last night, we talked about a few of the reasons this trip was really great. First, it was really varied. We had a great mix of cities and activities, so it didn’t feel like a lot of the same thing. This was partially due to the nature of the different cities but also due to strong planning and building diverse itineraries. Eric and I don’t plan our days in advance, we put together a document of bullet pointed recommendations for each city, and each night we talk through our plan for the following day. We love this because it means we’ve done all the heavy research in advance so don’t have to worry about finding a Wifi connection to look something up, but it also leaves room for unexpected or spontaneous ideas and recommendations. Another thing that made this trip great is we found a really great balance of relaxing and ‘go go go’. 18 crazy packed days would have been too much, I don’t have that kind of energy. We never set alarms, we let ourselves have leisurely mornings, and we planned days that had a good mix of activities. This made it so that even after 18 days of travel, we don’t feel burnt out or exhausted. This blog is mostly for my own documentation so I can look back on this trip, and because it makes it easier to give friends recommendations in the future, but if you’ve chosen to read and have made it this far I hope you enjoyed!

[mutualhighmaintenancemachin-blog]

I need a fix cus I'm going down

Made the mistake of appraising myself sufficiently healthy to attend a bonfire with normal decent tax-payer type folks. Stood up too fast in my chair and blacked out completely, hit my head on concrete. When I came to i had no earthly fucking memory of having driven to the bonfire, nor could i really recall the names of the three concerned hipsters perched over my limp doughy abscessed jaundiced shit heap of a body. Told them it was a problem with blood sugar, i had forgotten to imbibe my afternoon orange juice! Translation-haven’t slept in four days, taking in roughly two hundred calories a day all in ginger ale. Meth heads opt to sustain themselves on a diet of paranoid resentment in lieu of proteins and grains. The cook gets super spun and lectures us like we’re babes about the dark leftist forces presently waging war on the masculinity of the white man-for one thing, he's convinced that jews run the porn industry and that fucking pornhub is riddled with overtures both overt and subliminal intended to brainwash white guys into identifying as weak and feminine and to associate men of color with heroism and strength. He also believes that soy causes gender dysphoria. All of these batshit crazy delusions act like stars in the broad constellation of the cooks worst dystopian fears-a workforce with no room left for traditionally male-centered leadership characteristics dominated from top-down by a host of future ladies who make their trade in creative collaboration, rather than fear and theft of other peoples ideas. Without a need for a provider, our nazi-bespectacled methamphetamine cook envisions a new sexual economy in which women will jettison their attachments to the family structure in favor of like, industrialism, i guess, and men will have no other resort but a desperate turn to cross-dressing and dick-taking and i guess maybe stitching scarves. It was at this point that i was really tempted to tell the cook something he needs to hear-if you really believe that large shadow societies are orchestrating history just cus they want to make you some dudes boyfriend, its probably cus part of you wants to be. I get that, sucking dick is a blast. if you’re terrified that you can’t compete in a post-modern job market, it might just be because you aren’t. There’s no place left for cowboys or outlaws or methcooks cus those professions only make sense in the context of an insanely violent frontier. You feel obsolete and useless because you are, but make no mistake, that hurt has nothing to do with the world everything to do with your soul being severely malnourished. I know cus mine is too! Real moral christian courage is showing up to your crucifixion with a smile on your face ready to graciously thank the romans for every nail they put through your wrist. You feel empty because your a paranoid fascist meth cook, i feel bad cus I'm a junkie. We are bad. The nazi pilots who blitzed france in two sleepless, speed-fueled nights probably felt fucking fantastic, as if they were aloft on the trade winds of history itself and their momentum across europe must have seemed like proof enough of the moral righteousness of the german cause. But then the morning comes and the meth wears off and your skin smells like piss and your back aches and you can’t stop grinding your jaw and the first wave of survivors begin to trickle out from the camps and presumably in that moment a few nazis had the epiphany-that the very same starved beaten traumatized jewish women and men and children they had aspired to extinguish from human memory were now going to tell the story of what had happened. Power loses, grace is its own kingdom, etc etc. Furthermore those german officers who managed to transition back to civilian life and start families must have experienced a very strange new parental dynamic-can you imagine a family at a dinner table and the proud head of household instructs his small son to finish his vegetables and after pausing to mull it over for a few moments his son turns to him and says Father having thought about it a great deal i don’t think ill be following your instructions-after all you were only following instructions yourself when you helped to engineer the greatest cruelty in human history! To which ostensibly the father mumbles to clear his throat and asks his wife to pass the potato salad. Not even to invoke the possibility that the Fuhrer himself Mr. Adolph Hitler probably died surrounded by a swarm of shadow people, fucking hilarious just the thought, him yelling in that distinctive manic patois of his that he’s the leader and the abeyance of his will is sacrosanct blah blah blah while the little invisible mites under his pale skin shift and swell and scratch and the shadow people dancing around his peripheral vision taunting and cajoling and ridiculing him and the absurdity of his final solution and because he didn’t know speed the way we now know speed he probably didn’t know anything about the shadow people at all from his perspective they might just as well have been the ghosts of his victims come to taunt and ridicule him in his lowest hour pointing and laughing and daring him to pull the trigger!   

The same entitlement motivates the mass shooter who imagines a world full of seven billion perfect strangers as an attack on his rightful pursuit of happiness. No one will sleep with him and he can’t make sense of his place in a world built on fucking so he begins to indulge in fantasies of coercion, revenging himself on the very public space he so craved Now if our hypothetical douchebag had any pretense of self-awareness he might have looked into the possibility of adopting several dogs, and in turn coming to see his life as a story about caring unconditionally for animals. That’s a helluva life-Saint Francis got into the catholic hall of fame for doing not a whole lot more. Or perhaps he could adjust his expectations of intimacy in consideration of the countless plain-to middling-to ugly folks who are forced to come to terms with the truth early on that all of our bodies are grotesque and hideously deformed billboard advertisements for our big beautiful impossibly dense souls-come see a kernel of divine inspiration made self-aware, shimmering in the glory of creation,  just two exits past the tits and chin and ankles and all the rest of our faulty parts. 

Now a discerning reader(however unlikely you’d be to find one in an audience consisting of absolutely fucking nobody lol) might have already begun to detect a certain heady strain of hypocrisy in this authors conclusion. Because while I'm not much of anything the one thing i certainly am is a self-destructive drug addict. So maybe its one thing for me to make fun of the cook for his wrath-filled flu-stricken infants tantrum of a way of viewing the world, assigning to his solipsism a generation-hopping solidarity with his nazi forefathers who came before and identifying in his politics the germinal seed of fascisms future, a politics so personal and self-contained that every divorce will be debated as if it were a stand in for larger cultural decay, every morning hangover a portent of spiritual decline, the vitals of the stock market remeasured and reassessed each time someone finds on the sidewalk a loose dollar bill. Political assemblies with real largesse exclusively devoted to trolling the instagram of a nebraskan man named doug’s now ex-wife  for pictures of her maui vacation with husband number two drinking mojitos on a beach with sand bleached white as bone and both of them grinning with surgical precision an opulent almost confrontational kind of public grinning Doug couldn't recall that bitch ever having felt for him and the kids off playing in the surf and well how could any concerned and conscientious citizen fail to see the basic threat to democracy that whole scene represents? Donald Trump is probably the loneliest man in the world. He’s never met another person. He spends his time wandering the halls of his head checking for reoccurrences of his own reflection, a lifetime spent pathologically re-telling the same story about how he came to be the most powerful person in the world, so that by the time he really became who he had always pretended to be, the most influential figure in the free world, he had long-since bought into his own fraud to such a great extent that even the real thing couldn’t compare. Only a selfishness and self-centeredness as grandiloquent as his could explain the mindset of the modern mass shooter and the micro-politics informing him. He confuses his head for the world and then becomes enraged when it won’t do as he wishes, cursing the rain for its cold lash against his shoulder where he’d rather there have rested warm summer glow, furious at the thought of all the people he would never meet in far-off places he would never see who never paid him any attention whatsoever. Playing peek-a-boo a little bit of cheating peer through chubby fingers arrayed like a geisha’s fan and for the first time see that objects don’t disappear without our gaze to ontologically anchor them to earth. What a hurt. Now it might be technically correct that my addiction does to my loving family what the selfishness of the mass shooter does to public space. It intrudes like an alien thing and turns the air chilly in our childhood home and it transforms the medicine cabinet into a contested territory in need of defensive fortification and now that Cassies marriage has crashed on the rocks of addiction nobody could blame her if she never allowed another addict to darken her doorstep again and there was the sight of Jan opening my trucks passenger side door and a few rigs fell out onto the floor and all the spoons in the house have one side burnt-and-bruised like a black-eye you say you got from falling down a flight of stairs despite body language that says something entirely else why is it we don’t have a single spoon in the house what ghost spends all night punching the walls full of holes 

recently went to an Alanon meeting to sneak a glimpse of how the other half lives...this lady said my addiction is to loving my addict. Bawled rivers out from red raw-rubbed rubber eyes and said my addiction is to my addict Not her person or qualifier or partner but her addict. Syntax almost seeming to suggest that something about the existential plight of the addict gets her intoxicated dizzy on pain. It’s quaint though cus that sort of sentiment is for fucking rookies-guarantee you no ones crying over me like a romantic. Not anymore. My thing these days is of a distinctly more shakespearian strand of tragedy, with wittgenstein and derrida’s influences also undeniable. I’m sick now in a way where people stop crying and praying you’ll find God and change and decide instead it’d be easier to just cross the street. Schizophrenics lost in a chorus meant only just for them, apocalyptic street preachers who stand on soap boxes while reeking of shit and give voice to visions of an America not our own, an alternate dimension where european arrival at the shores of the new world stalled out somewhere halfway across the pacific ocean on a wave so tall it scraped the heavens and America grew up a nation of nomads who set their watches to the rumbling migration of herds of buffalo and not even the highest priest could dream of a more beautiful idea than that of motion, movement without cease, the only acceptable fixed still frozen property being the burial mounds where the dead went after all their motion had gone-if they could view us on the other side of the looking glass stolen away in our own personal homes they would almost certainly come to the conclusion that this place where we live is just the land of the dead, a negative photograph of everything vital and good. Who would i be to disagree though, right? 

The point is anyway that some alchemical reaction of A. Mental illness and B. Amphetamine abuse has more or less stranded me in words. Verbs and nouns and adjectives and adverbs in place of sky and grass. What Fredric Jameson called the prison house of language. Where derrida’s difference goes to play for eternity, never quite meaning what it had meant to say. What shook wittgenstein speechless. The president’s rhetoric so hollow that you can almost see him suffering a kind of dementia or spiritual torpor that results from the badness of his faith. Chewing and chomping consonants and sounds till they all are made to mush and shearing syllable after syllable off the network of signification until all that’s left is one satellite pinging a distress call hello is anyone there off of its own side. It’s own side like Adam plucked Eve from his rib and said put on this dress-after they ate the fruit and God cast him/her out to walk the world alone reportedly God said have fun all alone you worthless slut. Imagine trumps final state of the union-i am very sick, i have been alone for as long as I can remember, i wish i hadn’t lied so often, i wish i had occasionally told the truth, i would trade all of it to have known just one person. 

Anyways, barring that miracle of political theater, the body gets sick and dissolves while the spirit is lost in words. I’d like to die in a bathroom stall in haughville with a rig stuck in my arm and the words I'm sorry stuck at the tip of my tongue and God decides to show some compassion and makes me a deal says you were never much good to people didn’t believe in a thing but you sure could do some impressive vomiting up of nonsense words and so what ill do is your soul will dissolve and turn into ink and for the rest of eternity you’ll be a naughty joke or a half-scribbled doggerel scrawled on the wall of a piss-soaked bathroom stall in the ghetto or you could say call this number here for a good time and don’t forget to ask for large marge and nobody’d ever suspect you were trapped in there or maybe a joke like this favorite of mine about my son it goes something like Jesus Christ was a God-awful carpenter, couldn’t pull a nail to save his own life. Christ was a God-awful, couldn’t pull a nail to save his own life. Couldn't pull a nail. Christ was God-awful. Couldn’t nail his own couldn’t save a carpenter terrible couldn’t pull god-awful a terrible carpenter he couldn’t pull a nail to save his own life. I can’t pull this nail to save my own life. It’s right there sticking out of my wrist, but for whatever reason I just can’t find the right words to pull it out he was a carpenter who couldn’t pull a nail even if his life depended on it couldn't save his own life he couldn't-

For a good time call this number 1-555-555-5555 and don’t forget to ask for-

[syrupeel6-blog]

marbled raspberry pound cake

This small, fearless wildling we literally just brought home from the hospital turned three a couple weeks ago, but despite my certainty that we just got her, I won’t lie, this feels like a gazillion years ago because when did she not have hair. Strangers on the street often ask us about her hair, and I get it, I do. She’s small, it is big, and also red and with spiral curls going in every direction and there are three other members of our family and none of us have spiral curls or red hair. This isn’t the only way she’s already her own fierce little person. I was definitely not into dolls or dresses growing up, so I watch with awe as she plays for hours with her very pink baby doll, the doll’s stroller, the doll’s purse, the doll’s crib and high chair; when she comes home after being out all day, she likes to sit quietly with her baby on her lap on the sofa for a while to catch up and it is, objectively (I am known for my objectivity when talking about my kids), one of the cutest things I’ve ever seen.

So when asked what kind of birthday cake she wanted, she said “PINK!” And I said, “But what flavor?” “Pink.” And also, “Not brown, Yacob likes brown.” (This is true.) And I thought about making the pink lady cake but we ended up not having a big party that required so much cake, just bringing cupcakes to camp* and then going out to dinner with family. Instead, I went in a simpler direction, loosely inspired by a marbled pink and white cake we saw in the pastry case at Starbucks (but didn’t try so no idea how the taste lines up), a few weeks before. Adding a spoonful of raspberry puree into the glaze turning it ferociously pink, much to her glee, and stretching it into this doughnut-shaped pan I bought earlier this summer on a whim made it look like a giant pink emoji of a doughnut, an unequivocal hit with three year-olds, eight year-olds, and everyone who saw the cake go by at the restaurant. [I resisted the urge to say “And the color is all natural! And that’s not plasticky fondant!” — for once — but it was hard.]

Of course, you do not need a cutesy cake pan to make this. You can make it as a single loaf or double it in a traditional tube or bundt. You also don’t need much time; I made this entire cake in under two hours and it goes even faster if you don’t have to cool it so the glaze stays in place. As a birthday cake after a big dinner, it was exactly right — not too heavy or sweet, but still cute as a button. It would be great for brunch or lunch this weekend or, you know, now. It’s Cake O’Clock somewhere, right?

* I used the berry buttercream and sheet cake from The Smitten Kitchen Cookbook to make pink frosting on vanilla cupcakes.

Previously

One year ago: German Chocolate Cake + A Wedding Cake Two years ago: Eggplant with Tomato and Yogurt Relish and Blueberry Bread and Butter Pudding Three years ago: Takeout-Style Sesame Noodles with Cucumber Four years ago: Summer Squash Gratin with Salsa Verde and Bourbon Slush Punch Five years ago: Mama Canales-Garcia’s Avocado Shrimp Salsa and Banana Nutella and Salted Pistachio Popsicles Six years ago: Zucchini Bread Pancakes and Zucchini Tomato and Rice Gratin Seven years ago: Corn Buttermilk and Chive Popovers and Sugar Plum Crepes with Ricotta and Honey Eight years ago: Scalloped Tomatoes with Croutons, Raspberry Brown Sugar Gratin and Summer Succotash with Bacon and Croutons Nine years ago: Watermelon Lemonade, Light Brioche Burger Buns, Blueberry Boy Bait, and Lemony Zucchini Goat Cheese Pizza Ten years ago: Nectarine Mascarpone and Gingersnap Tart and Herbed Summer Squash and Potato Torte Eleven years ago: Pearl Couscous with Olives and Tomatoes and Zucchini Bread

And for the other side of the world: Six Months Ago: Banana Oat Weekday Pancakes and Stromboli, Scaccia-Style 1.5 Years Ago: An Easier Way To Make Cookies and Guacamole 2.5 Years Ago: Cabbage and Sausage Casserole and Leek, Ham, Cheese and Egg Bake 3.5 Years Ago: Make Your Own Vanilla Extract and Fried Egg Salad 4.5 Years Ago: Homemade Dulce de Leche and Cheese Blintz

Marbled Raspberry Pound Cake

Servings: 8

Time: Less than 2 hours

Print

The cake, as written below, makes 1 standard loaf. To make it in the doughnut-looking pan I show, you’ll want to use 150% of the recipe (it bakes in 38 to 40 minutes). To make a bundt or tube cake, you’ll want to double the recipe (it will take anywhere from 45 to 60 minutes, as shapes range a lot). For the doughnut or bundt cake, I double the glaze. For the raspberries, fork-mashing is easier, but if you’re bothered by seeds or want the smooth appearance you see in the top photo, you’ll want to blend the berries and sieve out the seeds. For the glaze, you could make it with a spoonful of raspberry puree (for this, you’ll definitely want a seedless puree), you could make it with lemon juice, or a mix of both. Or you can skip it for a less sweet cake; it’s perfectly lovely with just a dusting of powdered sugar to finish. For a little more lemon flavor, you can squeeze that half lemon you use for zest and measure the juice (it should be 1 to 2 tablespoons), then use that much less sour cream in the white portion of the cake, adding them at the same time. Finally, a little shopping note: Around here, raspberries come from the grocery store in 6-ounce clamshells, which neatly provides the 1 cup (5 ounces) you’ll need for the pink portion of the cake and the last few you’ll need for a pink glaze.

Butter or cooking spray to coat pan

1 cup (200 grams) granulated sugar

1/4 teaspoon fine sea or table salt

Finely grated zest from half a lemon

1/2 cup (115 grams) unsalted butter

2 large eggs

2 teaspoons baking powder

1 cup (130 grams) all-purpose flour plus 1/2 cup (65 grams) all-purpose flour, divided

1/2 cup (125 grams) sour cream, creme fraiche, or full-fat plain yogurt

1 gently heaped cup (140 grams or 5 ounces) fresh raspberries

3/4 cup (90 grams) powdered sugar

1 tablespoon raspberry puree (for a pink glaze, from a few tablespoons or 1 ounce fresh raspberries), or lemon juice

1 to 2 tablespoons milk

Heat oven to 350 degrees F. Coat a standard loaf pan (either 8″x4″ or 9″x5″, or any size between, will work here) with nonstick baking spray or butter, making sure to get into the corners.

Place sugar and salt in a large bowl. Zest lemon into sugar and rub it together with your fingertips; this helps the lemon release the most flavor from it. Add butter and use an electric mixer to beat it with the sugar until fluffy. Add eggs, one at a time, beating well with each addition. Scrape down bowl. Sprinkle cake surface with baking powder and mix it until very well combined. Scrape down sides of bowl again. Add 1 cup (only) of the flour and beat just until it’s no longer visible.

Place raspberries in the bottom of a second medium-large bowl and mash with a fork until mostly broken down but still a little lumpy; you’ll have about 1/2 cup mashed. [If you really dislike raspberry seeds and/or want a smoother look, you can blend the berries until smooth and press them through a fine-mesh strainer — into this second bowl — to remove seeds.] Pour half of the cake batter on top of raspberries (if you have a scale, you can zero out the weight of the bowl and raspberries; half the batter weights 277 grams) but wait, don’t mix it yet.

Instead, go back to the first bowl of batter, the one without raspberries, and add sour cream. Beat to combine. Add 1/4 cup flour, and beat just until smooth. (By beating the “white” batter first, you can reuse you beaters without washing them for the pink batter without muddying the look.)

Beat the raspberries and second half of the cake batter together until smooth. Add final 1/4 cup flour, and beat just until smooth.

Dollop batters in alternating spoonfuls into bottom of prepared loaf pan. Roughly “checkerboard” the rest in, meaning that you’ll drop a pink batter dollop and then a white one and vice-versa until both batters are used up. Drop your pan onto the counter a couple times from a few inches high, to help tap out air bubbles. Use a butter knife or small offset spatula to make a few figure-8s through the batters, marbling them together — but just a little, say, 4 to 5 figure-8s. Any more and the swirls may not look distinct when you cut the cake.

Bake loaf cake for 50 to 55 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted into the center of the cake comes out batter-free. Let cool for 15 minutes in pan, then run a knife around cake and gently remove. Let cake cool completely on rack (I hasten this along in the freezer) before glazing, if using a glaze.

To make your glaze, place powdered sugar in a medium bowl and add raspberry puree (for this, it’s best if you press the berries through a fine-mesh sieve to remove seeds, or it won’t have a smooth pink look) or lemon juice. Whisk to combine, but it will almost definitely be too thick. From here, add milk, a teaspoon at a time, until you can whisk the sugar into a thick but loose glaze. Spoon on top of cooled cake and nudge it to the edges with your spoon or an offset spatual so that it drips where you’d like it to. Cover with sprinkles, if using.

Cake keeps for 4 to 5 days in the fridge. If there’s no milk in your glaze, you can store it at room temperature.

Source: https://smittenkitchen.com/2018/08/marbled-raspberry-pound-cake/

[isabellafaulkner-blog]

Meeting Fiona

[I’m so sorry! This RP happened between the introduction interviews and the welcome ball but for some reason I forgot this had happened. Anyway, @lady-fiona-rossi thanks so much for the RP even though it was so long ago! Again, I’m really sorry about posting it only now…]

I am on my way to the gardens when I spot a girl with red hair standing in the hall. “Hello! You’re Fiona right?” I say as I make my way over to her. Fiona was the one who send us all a message asking for our favourite flowers.

“Yup, and you are?” I extend my hand, “Isabella. Nice to meet you!” Fiona shakes my hand. “It’s nice to meet you too.” She thinks for a moment. “Isabellaaaaa…you’re one of Debbie’s friends! And you had the poppies as your favourite flowers, right?”

“Yes, I had the pleasure to get into contact with Debbie before we arrived at the palace. We clicked immediately and she is so amazing!” I smile at the thought of my new found friend. “And yes poppies are so beautiful! Plus they have some special meaning. A long time ago there was a war between Germany and the rest of the world. Once the war was over, Germany lost by the way, poppies appeared everywhere. The German citizens saw this a sign of hope, that the world would get better. My grandparents told me this, it’s a story that is being told from generation to generation. I am 50% German, so it kinda means something to me. Anyway, sorry I’m rambling. What are your favorite flowers?” I ask.

“I like peonies. Not for any particular reason other than them just being pretty. It’s nice that you have stories like that in your family. Poppies really are pretty.” I nod my head, “Yes peonies are very beautiful! And they smell amazing as well! How have you been?”

“I’ve been good. This place has been fun to be with. I’ve been avoiding seeing my maids though. I’m worried about what it’ll feel like to have maids. How have you been?” Fiona says.

I smile, “The palace is so beautiful! It feels like I’m in a fairytale to be honest. I know the maid idea is a little weird.” I laugh a little at the thought of having maids, “you don’t even have to run a bath yourself though I will still do a lot of things myself out of habit, you know?” The people running around at modeling gigs reminded me a little of the whole maid thing.

“Yup. I’m really not used to people doing things for me. Changing in front of them won’t be a big deal since I’m used to changing in front of all of my roommates. But I don’t like the ideas of them dressing me and having to worry about me, or washing me. So I just left a note asking them to help me as little as possible. So I haven’t really had the chance to meet them. Not only that but I’ve been spending most of my time outside of my room.”

I can see on her face that it worries her a little. “I know exactly what you mean, I appreciate their help but I can and want to do certain things myself.” Quickly, I change the topic. “Is there any place at the palace that is your favorite already?”

“Yup, there’s a tree in the garden I like to sit in. There’s a great view from there and it’s relaxing.” Fiona’s face relaxes a little again. “Have you found one yet?”

“Yes I can imagine! It must be so peaceful!” Mental note: go to the gardens. “I really like the library. It is so quiet, I can sort my thoughts ánd read books. What else does one need?” I laugh.

“Not much else.”

It’s quiet for a little moment before I ask, “How do you feel about meeting prince Dom very soon?”

“Not too worried. He’s just another boy. What do you think?” She doesn’t show any sign of being nervous. None. How do people do that?

“I am a little nervous but I’m not sure it’s because he is the future king of the country or because I could be falling in love with him.” I admit.

“I don’t really mind either of those things. So his future will be sitting in a room determining which cheeses can and can’t be in the country. Or so he may end up being the love of my life, either way it’s nothing to be worried about to me.” This girl has to teach me her trick.

“I guess you are right! The thought of love just scares me for some reason. I love that you used cheeses as an example.” I laugh. “I love cheese.” It’s my one true love to be honest.

This makes Fiona laugh as well, “does cheese scare you then. Since love scares you, and you have a love of cheese?”

I think about it for a second. “Oh no, now you know my secret.” I laugh. “Joking of course! There are just so many types of cheese and you can eat them with everything!” This whole talking about cheese is making me hungry.

“Cheese and sushi?” Fiona looks at me questionably

“Okay.” I laugh, “not everything then! But salads, pastas, pizzas, sandwiches. I haven’t even mentioned cheese fondue yet..”

“Cheese fondue?”

“Yes! It is the best dish in the entire world!” I exclaim and smile.

“What is it?”

I look at Fiona with some sort of shock visible in my face. How can someone not know what cheese fondue is? “It’s like a big bowl of melted cheese, and then you can dip bread, potatoes, or vegetables in it and then eat it! I think it’s originally from either Austria or Switzerland. But it is so delicious!”

“Really, it sounds very interesting. I’ll have to try it sometime!” I’m glad Fiona is open to try it. There are people who don’t want to eat things they have never eaten before.

“I think you will enjoy it if you like cheese! I will make it for you sometime soon!” I promise her.

“That’d be lovely! I recently learned how to make cookies, specifically snickerdoodles, so I’ll have to make you some of those in return.”

“Ooh I love cookies! That would be amazing!” Yes. I realize that I might sound like a food monster. But I can’t help it. Food is one of my passions.

“I’m looking forward to trying your fondue as well! Be warned once you start eating my cookies you’ll never be able to stop. I make the best ones in the world.”  She laughs.

I smile. “I can’t wait to try them! But I guess you will have to make a bunch because I won’t be able to stop eating them.” I laugh. Fiona is so sweet, I’m glad I introduced myself to her.

“Yup I will make as many as I can. If for some reason we have extras we can give them to some of the other selected.”

“No they are all for me!” I laugh, “joking of course! Yes we can share them!”

We’re both laughing. When we finally can contain ourselves again, Fiona asks “I have a quick question for you if you don’t mind me asking.”

“Yes of course! Go ahead!”

“Why did you join the bitch squad with Melody and them all. You don’t seem like a particularly aggressive person. You, Charlotte, and even Vad confuse me in your place there.” The questionable look is back on her face again.

I think about my answer for a moment. “Well, it is nice to have some reassurance in this whole thing! And even though the name bitch squad might suggest otherwise, we are not going to create drama out of nowhere. At least I am not going to, and I think the others won’t do that either! But when something happens to one of us, we will have each other’s back. It is nice to have this kind of alliance, and they have all been very kind to me. I smile, “It is just the name of the squad, not our personalities!”

“Thanks. I was just curious about you since none of you really seem like the traditional definition of a bitch.”

“No problem.” I smile, “I am glad you don’t label us right away as bitchy, mean, manipulative et cetera, and that you are still open to talk to me!”

“Well I’m glad I didn’t offend you by asking. I was worried I might upset you.” Fiona smiles as well.

I laugh. “No of course not! I am happy you asked!” Over the years of modeling and dealing with my mom, I have built up a thick skin. It’s difficult to make me upset.

“So what did you think of Prince Dom? Not to sound like a reporter by asking though.” Fiona laughs.

“No you’re fine!” I smile, “I think Dom is so friendly! And good looking of course!” That last statement makes me blush a little. “What do you think of him?”

“I think he’s adequate. He didn’t seem particularly interesting to me, but not bad either. Thus adequate.”

This makes me curious. “Why do you feel like he is not particularly interested in you?”

“I doubt he is. He didn’t seem to be. I don’t really mind though since I only signed up to get off the farm and have some fun. I think Princess Alina is fun to hang out with so I’ll just spend time with her till I’m kicked out.” Fiona laughs. She seems so carefree.

“I hope you are having lots of fun! I haven’t met princess Alina yet, but I heard she is so sweet and cool! Have you spend a lot of time with her?”

“I don’t know if I’d say a lot. I believe we’ve had 5 conversations as of now.”

I smile at her. “I think you can call that a lot, since we haven’t been here that long.”

“Ah right. Well she’s a delight to talk with. Have you spoken with any of the royals aside from Dom?” Fiona asks.

“No I haven’t yet. I am waiting for the right moment, I guess. The ball seems like a good opportunity!” I admit. Mental note 2: go talk to some royals.

“Oh yes the ball. I don’t know if I should be excited for it or dreading it. I’m probably going to embarrass myself but it seems like such a fun event.”

“Why would you embarrass yourself? I think you are a very kind person!”

Fiona laughs, “It’s not that. I don’t know how to dance, and I’m not exactly up to date with the formalities of the upper class life considering I’m a seven.” She’s still laughing.

I join her laughter. “Don’t worry about the dancing! I heard a rumour that prince Dom is very stiff while dancing, don’t know if it is true but we will see.” I wink. “I wonder what kind of music they will play: slow and classic, or a little faster and dance-able. I hope the last one! And with the formalities, I’d say don’t worry about that either! If you act like how you’d act around prince Dom, or the Kind and Queen, then you should be fine! Just be yourself and enjoy yourself.” I smile.

“I hope it’ll be fine. I’m probably just gonna stick to Alina the whole time and hope for the best.” The sound of Fiona’s laughter fills the air.

“I am sure she won’t mind! And girl you will be fine, believe me.” I reassure her and smile, “there is nothing you can do wrong!”

Fiona smiles back at me, “thanks! Well I look forward to seeing you at the ball.”

“Yes me too! Have a good day!” I wave at her. “Bye, see you later!” I say before I walk away.

As I am walking up the stairs, I realize that I’m walking back to my room. I wanted to go to the gardens and have a look at the beautiful flowers. But now that I am standing in front of my door, I feel really tired. I can’t bring myself to walk down those stairs again, so I enter my room and decide to read a book instead.

[laraimaustria]

Day 1: Planes are Not Fun, but Also Not As Bad as I Thought

Well I survived. Despite my hatred of flying I lived through three consecutive plane rides.  Travel Tip #1: Don’t eat Ben and Jerry’s at 11:PM the night before you’re getting up at 3:45 am to go to another country. Don’t do it. (I did it). This morning (or technically yesterday morning) I think I was basically using adrenaline and sheer willpower to get myself pumped to go on all these planes considering I probably got 2-3 hours of sleep prior. 

Travel Tip #2 When you almost lose your wallet in the airport bathroom before you’ve even gone anywhere or done anything, don’t have a panic attack. They’ll call your name over the intercom when they find it and everything. 

I persisted and made it through the first leg of our journey to Toronto, Canada. I didn’t sleep on this flight, mostly because I was pumped up and they actually have legit free movies on Air Canada flights, so I watched Guardians of the Galaxy Vol 2. to pass the time. Turns out I thought Toronto was way more in the middle-ish part of Canada then it really is. Only downer to this part of trip was my earbuds conking out, but I just bought some new ones in the airport. I also didn’t freak out once, not even when I was using the void that is an airplane bathroom (even though there was turbulence.) Apparently nobody in our group, including myself, knows how time works, because what we thought was a three hour layover in Toronto turned out to be like a 45 minute layover since we forgot that Toronto is, in fact, in a different time zone from Oregon. But we all got on the plane to Prague so it all worked out.

It’s no secret that I hate flying, and I hate long flights because, like I mentioned above, that means entering the airplane bathroom. All I’m saying is, if the plane starts going down I refuse to die on a jank toilet in the back of an airplane. But the plane didn’t start going down, not once in the whole 8 hour trip from Toronto to Prague. I tried to sleep on this part to try and trick my body into converting to Vienna time, but I was only partially successful and slept maybe 2 hours. (This makes a whopping four hours of sleep in two days!!!! Traveling is fun!!!) There were no movies on this flight, but there were some slightly odd tasting cheesy noodles for our in-flight meal and some banana bread just before we landed. 8 hours seems like a long time but it goes by fast when you’re trying to convince yourself that the tray table does make a good pillow. 

After landing in Prague (the airport doesn’t actually seem to be in Prague??? Maybe the windows we were looking out of were facing the wrong way) and making ourselves look like idiots through the Czech security line, we finally went on our last plane to Vienna, which only lasted about 40 minutes.Vienna is BIG. I think my brain was a little confused because a lot of the buildings in Vienna actually look like some of the older ones in San Francisco, so I had to keep reminding myself that this is a completely different continent. It wasn’t hard once we started rounding corners and everywhere we looked we saw massive gold statues, opera houses, museums, and political buildings. Vienna truly is gorgeous, and I only saw the most touristy part during our slightly whirlwind tour with someone from our school. After we walked around we were free to get lunch with our BRAND NEW EUROS, so just to get it over and done with I had schnitzel (with potato salad instead of noodles but still good.) It was pork, not the traditional veal, but still very tasty. 

After briefly getting confused and slightly lost on the Vienna bus system, we decided that once you start having out of body experiences on public transportation it’s time to call it a day and take a nap. So back to our adorable pension hotel we went, where I’m planning on blacking out until we go to dinner as a group. It’s so surreal that I’m here and that this is real, and even though it slightly feels like I just got thrown into a shark tank, I’m reminding myself that I just got through Day 1 (and now 2 actually) and that it’ll just get smoother from here. Well maybe until I have to start using my German skills.