i'm back! the flight was quite arduous (guatemala city to san jose, costa rica, overnight in san jose, san jose to miami, overnight in miami, miami to LAX). my body reacted by developing a large cold sore. i'm not leaving the house until it disappears.
Mouse has forgotten about me, and I am heartbroken. She seems to view me as an unwelcome extra presence in the house, a disruption to her blissful coexistence with my boyfriend. They curl up in bed together and cast hostile stares me way.
Monday, October 09, 2006
Sunday, October 01, 2006
tal vez: perhaps
VIII. TAL VEZ...
Tal vez ya no le importa mi gemido
en el indiferente edén callado
en que el espíritu desencarnado
vive como dormido...
Tal vez ni sabe ya cómo he llorado
ni cómo he padecido.
En profundo quietismo,
su alma, que antes me amara de tal modo,
se desliza glacial por ese abismo
del eterno mutismo,
olvidada de sí, de mí, de todo...
- Amado Nervo (Chilean poet, 1870-1919)
Tal vez ya no le importa mi gemido
en el indiferente edén callado
en que el espíritu desencarnado
vive como dormido...
Tal vez ni sabe ya cómo he llorado
ni cómo he padecido.
En profundo quietismo,
su alma, que antes me amara de tal modo,
se desliza glacial por ese abismo
del eterno mutismo,
olvidada de sí, de mí, de todo...
- Amado Nervo (Chilean poet, 1870-1919)
mariposa negra
Last night while we were eating dinner, the duena (landlady) came to talk to my host mom. The corner convenience store had just been robbed. My roomates and I stared around the table at one another, frozen to our seats. The store is not 75 feet from where we were sitting, and we had heard nothing.
I thought about the night before, when I had walked there alone at 10:30pm, to buy apple juice. I remembered the bored-looking clerks, two of them, young men, who explained to me that one of the refrigerators was broken so if I wanted cold juice, I would have to buy apple, and not grape, as I had originally asked for. I thought about what could have happened if I had chosen to go a day later.
We briefly considered not going out that night, but decided to go dancing anyway. Spent the night dancing (or in my case, trying to dance) to salsa at a club called Casbah under the arch.
Today at lunch, Dona marta told us that there is a black trash bag tied to the door of hte store in the shape of a bow or butterfly. The clerk had not just been robbed--he had been shot dead.
It seems to wrong that at the exact moment I was sitting down at dinner, discussing where to go dancing that night, less than half a black away someones life was slipping away.
There are 200 violent attacks, mostly robberies and mostly in the capital, on the camionetas (chicken buses) every day. Every other day or two the newspapers fill up with the count of people who had been shot dead on the buses that day. Last friday, there were 12. Yet every afternoon, the buses roll by, packed to the gills with passengers and laden with luggage tied to the roof.
I thought about the night before, when I had walked there alone at 10:30pm, to buy apple juice. I remembered the bored-looking clerks, two of them, young men, who explained to me that one of the refrigerators was broken so if I wanted cold juice, I would have to buy apple, and not grape, as I had originally asked for. I thought about what could have happened if I had chosen to go a day later.
We briefly considered not going out that night, but decided to go dancing anyway. Spent the night dancing (or in my case, trying to dance) to salsa at a club called Casbah under the arch.
Today at lunch, Dona marta told us that there is a black trash bag tied to the door of hte store in the shape of a bow or butterfly. The clerk had not just been robbed--he had been shot dead.
It seems to wrong that at the exact moment I was sitting down at dinner, discussing where to go dancing that night, less than half a black away someones life was slipping away.
There are 200 violent attacks, mostly robberies and mostly in the capital, on the camionetas (chicken buses) every day. Every other day or two the newspapers fill up with the count of people who had been shot dead on the buses that day. Last friday, there were 12. Yet every afternoon, the buses roll by, packed to the gills with passengers and laden with luggage tied to the roof.
Wednesday, September 27, 2006
Don´t Move
Once in awhile I come across a book that grips me and doesn´t let go until I have stayed up all night with it, fell asleep clutching it with the lights on, cried into my sheet, and spent the whole next day reading very, very slowly for fear it will end. Don´t Move, by Margaret Mazzantini, is one of those books. It is incredibly graphic, vulgar, gripping, heart-rending and gorgeously written.
English language books sell at a premium here in Antigua, so it behoves me to trade my used copy of this book in for a discount on teh next book I buy. But I can´t. This one I´m lugging all the way home.
English language books sell at a premium here in Antigua, so it behoves me to trade my used copy of this book in for a discount on teh next book I buy. But I can´t. This one I´m lugging all the way home.
Monday, September 25, 2006
nine days left until i leave for san jose to connect to miami to connect to LAX.
over the weekend, my host mom took me to a Quincinera in a neighboring pueblo. The whole town seemed to be there, dancing and celebrating the coming of age of a striking young woman.
My roommate and I met a very friendly family with tons of rambunctious kids at the party, who invited us over the next day for lunch. We arrived Sunday morning and spent a good part of the day teaching the kids oragami. Nancy, the mother, is the same age as I am. She has 4 kids, three her own and one ridiculously cute baby girl that she and her husband adopted a month ago. they are such a happy family, and the parents are so full of love for each other and their children. the kids and parents take turns hugging and adoring the baby. all of them live in a 1 bedroom concrete house about 200 square feet in size, but what they lack in material wealth they more than make up for in an abundance of laughter and smiles.
over the weekend, my host mom took me to a Quincinera in a neighboring pueblo. The whole town seemed to be there, dancing and celebrating the coming of age of a striking young woman.
My roommate and I met a very friendly family with tons of rambunctious kids at the party, who invited us over the next day for lunch. We arrived Sunday morning and spent a good part of the day teaching the kids oragami. Nancy, the mother, is the same age as I am. She has 4 kids, three her own and one ridiculously cute baby girl that she and her husband adopted a month ago. they are such a happy family, and the parents are so full of love for each other and their children. the kids and parents take turns hugging and adoring the baby. all of them live in a 1 bedroom concrete house about 200 square feet in size, but what they lack in material wealth they more than make up for in an abundance of laughter and smiles.
Tuesday, September 19, 2006
lax to gua for $188
yes you read that correctly. LAX to Guatemala City, round trip, for $188. dates are december thru march. Check farecompare.com leaving from LAX and you will find it...at least until it runs out. this is so cheap it makes me want to....oh wait....yes.... i´m already IN guatemala.
Update: Deal is no longer available. Sigh.
Update: Deal is no longer available. Sigh.
Monday, September 18, 2006
comida guatemalteco
i love guatemalan food. love. it.
i don´t know what all the dishes are called, but they are delicious! there is a lot of rice, so i don´t miss chinese food as much as i thought i would.
my host mom doesn´t need to spend that much money on the food she feeds us, but she takes pride in her cooking, and for good reason. other students are not fed meat every day, since their families scrimp on food in order to keep more of the money we pay them. but not marta. she feeds me heaps of meat, usually 3 times a day.
this morning i had pancakes with papaya, banana, watermelon, melon and pineapple for breakfast. for lunch i had pepion, a typical guatemalteco dish with chicken in a spicy chile puree over rice. i cannot wait to see what´s for dinner!
i am attending a salsa & merengue dance class this afternoon. tomorrow i am visiting a macadamia farm, wednesday i am taking a bike tour of the city, and later this week i am visiting a coffee plantation. the cost of all activities, 4 hours of private one on one spanish instruction per day, lodging in an adorable house, and 3 meals a day is $165. that´s less than i would spend per week if i were living in san diego and eating cheap food every day. i will really miss it here when i leave in 3 weeks.
i don´t know what all the dishes are called, but they are delicious! there is a lot of rice, so i don´t miss chinese food as much as i thought i would.
my host mom doesn´t need to spend that much money on the food she feeds us, but she takes pride in her cooking, and for good reason. other students are not fed meat every day, since their families scrimp on food in order to keep more of the money we pay them. but not marta. she feeds me heaps of meat, usually 3 times a day.
this morning i had pancakes with papaya, banana, watermelon, melon and pineapple for breakfast. for lunch i had pepion, a typical guatemalteco dish with chicken in a spicy chile puree over rice. i cannot wait to see what´s for dinner!
i am attending a salsa & merengue dance class this afternoon. tomorrow i am visiting a macadamia farm, wednesday i am taking a bike tour of the city, and later this week i am visiting a coffee plantation. the cost of all activities, 4 hours of private one on one spanish instruction per day, lodging in an adorable house, and 3 meals a day is $165. that´s less than i would spend per week if i were living in san diego and eating cheap food every day. i will really miss it here when i leave in 3 weeks.
Saturday, September 16, 2006
A wise pronouncement
A few days ago I was sitting in a cigar and wine cafe in Antigua, waiting for J to buy a cigar for her boyfriend, when I picked up a random paper and saw the poem ¨For Instances¨ by Jorge Luis Borges.
There was a very, very old man sitting near the entrance of the cafe, by the street, having a glass of wine. I struck up a conversation with him. His name is Peter, and unapologetically, with a friendly smile and a sometimes distant gaze, he told me about his life.
I was born in Germany many years ago. I used to write Nazi propaganda for the government. I fought in the Nazi army in WWII, and in the American army in the Korean War. I was Paris´s first hippie, camping for a year in a park there with two girlfriends. Inexplicably, after Paris I went to the states and spent a year at Brigham Young University. I am not Mormon, but many people there tried to convert me (chuckles). After that I returned to Germany and completed law school. I ended up running for office in Germany, and spent the rest of my life until retirement as a politician. I have been many places in this world, and here, Antigua...this is my last place.
I passed Peter the Borges poem and asked him what he thought of it. I asked him, is this true?
Peter replied,
Well, I am old enough now to be able to make wise pronouncements about life. Yes, this poem is true. But I have something to add. You are young, and I want to give you advice, and it is this: Travel as much as you possibly can, all over the world, and make sure you do it while you are young. Because when you are old, traveling to certain places is no longer feasible.
And in 20 years, K, when you have traveled the world and return to California, you will meet some of your friends who had never left, and you will realize that they are lacking something.
It is so important to travel. Make it a goal of yours to live for a year or two in another country and to see as much as you can of different people and experience different cultures. Not so that you can see different things and discover different things--but so that in doing so you will find yourself.
Peter is obviously not a Nazi any longer. When he talked about his time as a Nazi, his eyes showed what i imagined to be a sort of surprised amusement at how far he had come. There was no remorse, as if he knew what he did was wrong but had come to terms with it long, long ago. He was telling me how much he loved Shanghai, and he was incredibly warm and kind to me.
Sometimes I doubt whether traveling so much is a good idea. Not often, just sometimes. But were it not for my decision to travel, I would never have been there, on a street cafe speaking with a man nearing the end of his life, who had come here to die, and who wanted to tell me how important it is to keep seeing the world. It´s the little magic moments like this one that keep me moving.
There was a very, very old man sitting near the entrance of the cafe, by the street, having a glass of wine. I struck up a conversation with him. His name is Peter, and unapologetically, with a friendly smile and a sometimes distant gaze, he told me about his life.
I was born in Germany many years ago. I used to write Nazi propaganda for the government. I fought in the Nazi army in WWII, and in the American army in the Korean War. I was Paris´s first hippie, camping for a year in a park there with two girlfriends. Inexplicably, after Paris I went to the states and spent a year at Brigham Young University. I am not Mormon, but many people there tried to convert me (chuckles). After that I returned to Germany and completed law school. I ended up running for office in Germany, and spent the rest of my life until retirement as a politician. I have been many places in this world, and here, Antigua...this is my last place.
I passed Peter the Borges poem and asked him what he thought of it. I asked him, is this true?
Peter replied,
Well, I am old enough now to be able to make wise pronouncements about life. Yes, this poem is true. But I have something to add. You are young, and I want to give you advice, and it is this: Travel as much as you possibly can, all over the world, and make sure you do it while you are young. Because when you are old, traveling to certain places is no longer feasible.
And in 20 years, K, when you have traveled the world and return to California, you will meet some of your friends who had never left, and you will realize that they are lacking something.
It is so important to travel. Make it a goal of yours to live for a year or two in another country and to see as much as you can of different people and experience different cultures. Not so that you can see different things and discover different things--but so that in doing so you will find yourself.
Peter is obviously not a Nazi any longer. When he talked about his time as a Nazi, his eyes showed what i imagined to be a sort of surprised amusement at how far he had come. There was no remorse, as if he knew what he did was wrong but had come to terms with it long, long ago. He was telling me how much he loved Shanghai, and he was incredibly warm and kind to me.
Sometimes I doubt whether traveling so much is a good idea. Not often, just sometimes. But were it not for my decision to travel, I would never have been there, on a street cafe speaking with a man nearing the end of his life, who had come here to die, and who wanted to tell me how important it is to keep seeing the world. It´s the little magic moments like this one that keep me moving.
For Instances
If I could I would live my life over.
This time I would try to make more mistakes.
I would try not to be so perfect, I would laugh more.
I would be so much sillier than I have been
that I would take few things seriously.
I would be less hygienic.
I would risk more, take more trips, contemplate
more sunsets, climb more mountains, ford more streams.
I would go to more places I have never been.
I would eat more ice cream and fewer beans.
I would have more real problems
and fewer imaginary ones.
I was one of those people who lived every minute of life
sensibly and productively. Of course I had moments of delight.
But if I were able to go back it would be
for good moments only.
Because, if you don't know it, that's what life's made of: moments.
Do not waste even this one.
I was a guy who never went anywhere without a thermometer,
a hot water bottle, an umbrella, and a poncho.
If I could live my life again I would travel more lightly.
If I could live again I would start going barefoot
when spring comes and not stop till fall's long gone.
I would walk down more side streets, contemplate more dawns,
and play with more children, if I had my life ahead of me again.
But, come now. I am 85 years old. I know I am dying.
This time I would try to make more mistakes.
I would try not to be so perfect, I would laugh more.
I would be so much sillier than I have been
that I would take few things seriously.
I would be less hygienic.
I would risk more, take more trips, contemplate
more sunsets, climb more mountains, ford more streams.
I would go to more places I have never been.
I would eat more ice cream and fewer beans.
I would have more real problems
and fewer imaginary ones.
I was one of those people who lived every minute of life
sensibly and productively. Of course I had moments of delight.
But if I were able to go back it would be
for good moments only.
Because, if you don't know it, that's what life's made of: moments.
Do not waste even this one.
I was a guy who never went anywhere without a thermometer,
a hot water bottle, an umbrella, and a poncho.
If I could live my life again I would travel more lightly.
If I could live again I would start going barefoot
when spring comes and not stop till fall's long gone.
I would walk down more side streets, contemplate more dawns,
and play with more children, if I had my life ahead of me again.
But, come now. I am 85 years old. I know I am dying.
Monday, September 04, 2006
bocas del toro
I'm in paradise. I'm staying at 4 bedroom hotel built on stilts over the water. I can look through the floorboards and see the turquoise water below, clear through to the bottom where lots of starfish hang around. Colorful fish of all kinds swim by the hammock hanging off of our hotel room's deck. The water is warm.
Yesterday while snorkeling I was stung five times by jellyfish, once in the face. We exact vengeance by poking the jellyfish, which causes them to splay out and tumble away in a hilarious state if disarray, tentacles flying in every which direction.
Yesterday while snorkeling I was stung five times by jellyfish, once in the face. We exact vengeance by poking the jellyfish, which causes them to splay out and tumble away in a hilarious state if disarray, tentacles flying in every which direction.
Thursday, August 31, 2006
san jose
we decided to stay up all night in order to make it on to the 6:15 am bus to La Fortuna. Hot springs and an active volcano await, but for now I am trying not to fall asleep.
It is amazing how gross one can feel after a long bus ride. It's not like the bus was dirty or anything, but I still feel grimy at the end of it.
TicaBus, the bus company we have been using to travel around Central America, is an excellent company. The seats are comfortable, they show recent, if somewhat cheesy, movies, and they are very well-organized. It is shocking how much inter-country flights cost in Central America. A one-way ticket from San Jose to Guatemala City can cost $400 if you buy it at the wrong time. That's insane, considering the small distance covered by the flight. There are also no inter-country freeways, so buses take forever to get from one point to another.
It is amazing how gross one can feel after a long bus ride. It's not like the bus was dirty or anything, but I still feel grimy at the end of it.
TicaBus, the bus company we have been using to travel around Central America, is an excellent company. The seats are comfortable, they show recent, if somewhat cheesy, movies, and they are very well-organized. It is shocking how much inter-country flights cost in Central America. A one-way ticket from San Jose to Guatemala City can cost $400 if you buy it at the wrong time. That's insane, considering the small distance covered by the flight. There are also no inter-country freeways, so buses take forever to get from one point to another.
tikal
I wake up at 3:30am to hike through the pitch-black jungle. all i can see is the person directly in front of me. i stunble over rocks and roots and slide around in mud. all i hear around me is the sound of insects, some fluttering by, some buzzing, and occasionally a gross crunching noise, which i suppose is one of the three inch long grubs with black heads that are all over the jungle floor. i live in fear of running into a spider web, as the spiders here are two to two and a half inches in diameter and are all sorts of bright orange and red colors. they look positively menacing.
As we progress further into the jungle, terrifying growling screaming noises start coming from the treetops. Howler monkeys. These things sound like a monster out of a horror movie--the screams they make in no way resemble what i previously thought monkeys would sound like.
our hike takes us to the base of Temple IV at Tikal, where I climb 230 feet to the top and sit silently, waiting for the dawn. all around me circles the chirping of insects and howling of monkeys. I can see nothing.
as the sky begins to lighten, the noise in the jungle gets louder, and all kinds of birds start chirping at once. i can barely make out the shifting veil of fog that surrounded the trees below. Temple IV is so tall that its top, where I am sitting, is above the canopy level of the jungle.
i watch as the sky lightens even more and the trees all around me start becoming visible. the mist shifting through the trees is breathtaking. what other place could have served as the scene of the rebel base camp in star wars?
i am suddenly aware of how very, very far i am from home.
As we progress further into the jungle, terrifying growling screaming noises start coming from the treetops. Howler monkeys. These things sound like a monster out of a horror movie--the screams they make in no way resemble what i previously thought monkeys would sound like.
our hike takes us to the base of Temple IV at Tikal, where I climb 230 feet to the top and sit silently, waiting for the dawn. all around me circles the chirping of insects and howling of monkeys. I can see nothing.
as the sky begins to lighten, the noise in the jungle gets louder, and all kinds of birds start chirping at once. i can barely make out the shifting veil of fog that surrounded the trees below. Temple IV is so tall that its top, where I am sitting, is above the canopy level of the jungle.
i watch as the sky lightens even more and the trees all around me start becoming visible. the mist shifting through the trees is breathtaking. what other place could have served as the scene of the rebel base camp in star wars?
i am suddenly aware of how very, very far i am from home.
Wednesday, August 23, 2006
antigua dreamin
arrived this morning and already in love with the place. cobblestone streets, little cupolas with fountains, candlelight, vines climbing up crumbling walls, brightly painted houses with the most amazing huge wooden doors. a massive volcano as the backdrop.
the hotel i am staying at, meson panza verde, seems like it came straight out of some wonderful honeymoon commercial. absolutely gorgeous. our room opens up into a courtyard with stones set into the moss and a beautiful fountain with vines climbing up it, that is lit with candles at night. we have our own private butterfly and flower filled garden. our room has its own cute little fireplace that looks like an oven. the hotel is full of little nooks and crannies, and semi'secret winding staircases which lead up to an art gallery upstairs where you can swing in a hammock, and then take a small staircase up to the roof where there is a rose garden and an awesome view of the volcano beyond and city below. one of the best restaurants in the city is at this hotel. we have reservations next to the reflecting pool in one hour. i can´t believe this place has no corkage fee. accordingly, we have stocked up on chilean wine.
gonna wander around central park and peek into an old church now.
ciao!
the hotel i am staying at, meson panza verde, seems like it came straight out of some wonderful honeymoon commercial. absolutely gorgeous. our room opens up into a courtyard with stones set into the moss and a beautiful fountain with vines climbing up it, that is lit with candles at night. we have our own private butterfly and flower filled garden. our room has its own cute little fireplace that looks like an oven. the hotel is full of little nooks and crannies, and semi'secret winding staircases which lead up to an art gallery upstairs where you can swing in a hammock, and then take a small staircase up to the roof where there is a rose garden and an awesome view of the volcano beyond and city below. one of the best restaurants in the city is at this hotel. we have reservations next to the reflecting pool in one hour. i can´t believe this place has no corkage fee. accordingly, we have stocked up on chilean wine.
gonna wander around central park and peek into an old church now.
ciao!
Monday, August 21, 2006
granada, granada
arived 2 days ago via bus, and almost checked into a beautiful hotel called El Club. Luckily they were full that night, because although beautiful, we were soon to find out that for the next 2 days, El Club would transform at night into..well..a club, complete with 6 foot speakers and thumping house music. Eardrum splitting beats in a tranquil garden setting...not our idea of a romantic retreat. we ended up getting a room at this adorable little spanish style house with an open air garden.
We had no idea that, by some stroke of incredible luck, we had arrived on one of the biggest party days of the year in Granada-- the Hipica festival! The first night we were there, we found our way to central park, where there were vendors and a free rock concert from a local band from Managua. The entire town seemed to be out grooving to the rock concert (which was a Nicaraguan Rock the Vote for the upcoming Nov 5th Presidential election). Even old ladies and small children were out dancing!
The people here are so, so friendly. They sit around in rocking chairs outside their front doors, and smile and say ¨buenas!¨whenever we walk by. The same old shirtless man across the street tips his hat at me every time we pass by. Everyone stares at us, probably because we are the only asian people in town. Several kids have come up to us to pinch us and touch us, as if to see if we´re real.
Imagine my glee at actually finding a restaurant named Macondo, with a passage from One Hundred Years of Solitude printed on the front of the menu! After my own heart, these people.
Sunday, the day of the Hipica parade, was insane. more later as teh internet cafe is closing.
We had no idea that, by some stroke of incredible luck, we had arrived on one of the biggest party days of the year in Granada-- the Hipica festival! The first night we were there, we found our way to central park, where there were vendors and a free rock concert from a local band from Managua. The entire town seemed to be out grooving to the rock concert (which was a Nicaraguan Rock the Vote for the upcoming Nov 5th Presidential election). Even old ladies and small children were out dancing!
The people here are so, so friendly. They sit around in rocking chairs outside their front doors, and smile and say ¨buenas!¨whenever we walk by. The same old shirtless man across the street tips his hat at me every time we pass by. Everyone stares at us, probably because we are the only asian people in town. Several kids have come up to us to pinch us and touch us, as if to see if we´re real.
Imagine my glee at actually finding a restaurant named Macondo, with a passage from One Hundred Years of Solitude printed on the front of the menu! After my own heart, these people.
Sunday, the day of the Hipica parade, was insane. more later as teh internet cafe is closing.
Friday, August 18, 2006
buenos!
that's hi in costa rican.
T and i just wandered down a coblestoned street to a small, adorably decorated retaurant with local artwork on the walls and a cool carribean band with a guy playing a gut-bucket and another one singing bob marley covers.
I ordered the queso fundido, not knowing anything about it except that somewhere in my mind i remembered it was supposed to be good--and discovered that queso fundido is FONDUE!!! thank you god. there is nothing like fondue and a glass of good red wine on a summer evening with a light drizzle outside and live music inside. everyone in the restaurant seemed to be old friends except for us.
a puttpeteer/ventriloquist came out to tell a heart -warming story about how the soul of a poet resides in his heart, the sould of a writer resides in his imagination, but the soul of a dancer resides in her entire body, and lights up the starless night with its beauty.
i'm understanding more spanish than i thought i would!
T and i just wandered down a coblestoned street to a small, adorably decorated retaurant with local artwork on the walls and a cool carribean band with a guy playing a gut-bucket and another one singing bob marley covers.
I ordered the queso fundido, not knowing anything about it except that somewhere in my mind i remembered it was supposed to be good--and discovered that queso fundido is FONDUE!!! thank you god. there is nothing like fondue and a glass of good red wine on a summer evening with a light drizzle outside and live music inside. everyone in the restaurant seemed to be old friends except for us.
a puttpeteer/ventriloquist came out to tell a heart -warming story about how the soul of a poet resides in his heart, the sould of a writer resides in his imagination, but the soul of a dancer resides in her entire body, and lights up the starless night with its beauty.
i'm understanding more spanish than i thought i would!
Thursday, August 03, 2006
the joy of doing nothing
i woke up at 8:30 this morning, made scranbled eggs, bacon and waffles for my bf before he went to work. then sat around reading until noon, ate leftover thai green curry and thai chicken wings with a mango lassi for lunch, read for a few more hours, fell asleep hugging the cat until 6pm. cooked a dinner of mahi-mahi and giant sea scallops in a cuban mojito simmer sauce. washed it down with a stella artois. ice cream sandwich for dessert.
doing nothing is great!!
doing nothing is great!!
Wednesday, August 02, 2006
Tuesday, August 01, 2006
summer reading list, part 1
today i'm meeting up with j to go to the warhol exhibit at the san diego museum of art. then we'll wander around hillcrest, have some yummy food and browse around some independent bookstores.
i went to borders and picked up the following books to consume during the next week or so:
The Devil Wears Prada by Lauren Weisberger
I'm starting out with this one because after the bar, my brain recoils from anything requiring more than minimal processing ability. So far, it's entertaining, funny and sometimes even witty, and requires no mental capacity whatsoever--everything a summer beach read should be.
The Mortocycle Diaries by Che Guevara
I had no idea until yesterday that this book was actually written Che Guevara. I always thought it was some sort of historical fiction. He's an awesome writer, too. Can't wait to start on this one.
The Know-It-All by A.J. Jacobs
"One Man's Humble Quest to become the Smartest Person in the World."
Hilarious nonfiction. A.J. Jacobs, an NPR contributor, chronicles his quest to read the Encyclopedia Britannica from A to Z. I've always wanted to do that! But I guess I'll just settle with reading this book.
Sidenote: The back cover says something about how astounding reading the whole Encyclopedia Brittanica is, because it's 33,000 pages long. I stopped and thought that I've read more than 33,000 pages these past 3 years in law school, and how much more enlightened (and less in debt!) I'd be if I had just spent the 3 years reading the encyclopedia instead of law textbooks. Okay I'm depressed now.
Blindness by Jose Saramago
Winner of the Nobel Prize for Literature. Oh, the allegorical loveliness of it all!
Blurb from Amazon: In an unnamed city in an unnamed country, a man sitting in his car waiting for a traffic light to change is suddenly struck blind. But instead of being plunged into darkness, this man sees everything white, as if he "were caught in a mist or had fallen into a milky sea." A Good Samaritan offers to drive him home (and later steals his car); his wife takes him by taxi to a nearby eye clinic where they are ushered past other patients into the doctor's office. Within a day the man's wife, the taxi driver, the doctor and his patients, and the car thief have all succumbed to blindness. As the epidemic spreads, the government panics and begins quarantining victims in an abandoned mental asylum--guarded by soldiers with orders to shoot anyone who tries to escape.
In this community of blind people there is still one set of functioning eyes: the doctor's wife has affected blindness in order to accompany her husband to the asylum. As the number of victims grows and the asylum becomes overcrowded, systems begin to break down: toilets back up, food deliveries become sporadic; there is no medical treatment for the sick and no proper way to bury the dead. Inevitably, social conventions begin to crumble as well, with one group of blind inmates taking control of the dwindling food supply and using it to exploit the others. Through it all, the doctor's wife does her best to protect her little band of blind charges, eventually leading them out of the hospital and back into the horribly changed landscape of the city."
Fascinating, no? I heard of this from a Law and Literature class I took a few years back.
i went to borders and picked up the following books to consume during the next week or so:
The Devil Wears Prada by Lauren Weisberger
I'm starting out with this one because after the bar, my brain recoils from anything requiring more than minimal processing ability. So far, it's entertaining, funny and sometimes even witty, and requires no mental capacity whatsoever--everything a summer beach read should be.
The Mortocycle Diaries by Che Guevara
I had no idea until yesterday that this book was actually written Che Guevara. I always thought it was some sort of historical fiction. He's an awesome writer, too. Can't wait to start on this one.
The Know-It-All by A.J. Jacobs
"One Man's Humble Quest to become the Smartest Person in the World."
Hilarious nonfiction. A.J. Jacobs, an NPR contributor, chronicles his quest to read the Encyclopedia Britannica from A to Z. I've always wanted to do that! But I guess I'll just settle with reading this book.
Sidenote: The back cover says something about how astounding reading the whole Encyclopedia Brittanica is, because it's 33,000 pages long. I stopped and thought that I've read more than 33,000 pages these past 3 years in law school, and how much more enlightened (and less in debt!) I'd be if I had just spent the 3 years reading the encyclopedia instead of law textbooks. Okay I'm depressed now.
Blindness by Jose Saramago
Winner of the Nobel Prize for Literature. Oh, the allegorical loveliness of it all!
Blurb from Amazon: In an unnamed city in an unnamed country, a man sitting in his car waiting for a traffic light to change is suddenly struck blind. But instead of being plunged into darkness, this man sees everything white, as if he "were caught in a mist or had fallen into a milky sea." A Good Samaritan offers to drive him home (and later steals his car); his wife takes him by taxi to a nearby eye clinic where they are ushered past other patients into the doctor's office. Within a day the man's wife, the taxi driver, the doctor and his patients, and the car thief have all succumbed to blindness. As the epidemic spreads, the government panics and begins quarantining victims in an abandoned mental asylum--guarded by soldiers with orders to shoot anyone who tries to escape.
In this community of blind people there is still one set of functioning eyes: the doctor's wife has affected blindness in order to accompany her husband to the asylum. As the number of victims grows and the asylum becomes overcrowded, systems begin to break down: toilets back up, food deliveries become sporadic; there is no medical treatment for the sick and no proper way to bury the dead. Inevitably, social conventions begin to crumble as well, with one group of blind inmates taking control of the dwindling food supply and using it to exploit the others. Through it all, the doctor's wife does her best to protect her little band of blind charges, eventually leading them out of the hospital and back into the horribly changed landscape of the city."
Fascinating, no? I heard of this from a Law and Literature class I took a few years back.
Monday, July 31, 2006
I'm done!
The bar exam was three days of hell. HELL.
The minute it was over I went and got trashed and became a very angry drunk. Then I went to Mexico and got food poisoning, yay!
17 days until Costa Rica. Can't wait!
The minute it was over I went and got trashed and became a very angry drunk. Then I went to Mexico and got food poisoning, yay!
17 days until Costa Rica. Can't wait!
Thursday, July 20, 2006
spam hash brown bake
I have no idea why I love SPAM. I haven't let myself eat SPAM in years.
My brain tells me SPAM is evil, but my taste buds tell me to bake it with fried potatoes and sour cream and onions and smother it in cheese and cream of chicken soup, and sprinkle potato chips on top.
I'll never make this recipe, ever, because I feel like my arteries are going to burst just reading the recipe. At 53 grams of fat and 705 calories per serving, this would kill me. Because I'd probably sit down and eat the entire thing. By myself. And then spend the rest of the afternoon being very disgusted with myself.
Ingredients (Makes 8 servings)
1 (32-ounce) package frozen hash brown potatoes, thawed slightly
1/2 cup butter or margarine, melted
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon black pepper
1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
2 cups (8 ounces) shredded Cheddar cheese
1 (12-ounce) can SPAM® Classic, cubed
1 (10-3/4-ounce) can cream of chicken soup
1-1/2 cups sour cream
1/2 cup milk
1/2 cup chopped onion
1 (4.25-ounce) can CHI-CHI'S® Diced Green Chilies, drained
2 cups crushed potato chips
Heat oven to 350°F. In large bowl, combine potatoes, melted butter, salt, pepper and garlic powder. In separate large bowl, combine cheese, SPAM®, soup, sour cream, milk, onion and green chilies. Add SPAM™ mixture to potato mixture; mix well. Pour into 2-quart baking dish. Sprinkle with potato chips. Bake 45 to 60 minutes or until thoroughly heated.
My brain tells me SPAM is evil, but my taste buds tell me to bake it with fried potatoes and sour cream and onions and smother it in cheese and cream of chicken soup, and sprinkle potato chips on top.
I'll never make this recipe, ever, because I feel like my arteries are going to burst just reading the recipe. At 53 grams of fat and 705 calories per serving, this would kill me. Because I'd probably sit down and eat the entire thing. By myself. And then spend the rest of the afternoon being very disgusted with myself.
Ingredients (Makes 8 servings)
1 (32-ounce) package frozen hash brown potatoes, thawed slightly
1/2 cup butter or margarine, melted
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon black pepper
1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
2 cups (8 ounces) shredded Cheddar cheese
1 (12-ounce) can SPAM® Classic, cubed
1 (10-3/4-ounce) can cream of chicken soup
1-1/2 cups sour cream
1/2 cup milk
1/2 cup chopped onion
1 (4.25-ounce) can CHI-CHI'S® Diced Green Chilies, drained
2 cups crushed potato chips
Heat oven to 350°F. In large bowl, combine potatoes, melted butter, salt, pepper and garlic powder. In separate large bowl, combine cheese, SPAM®, soup, sour cream, milk, onion and green chilies. Add SPAM™ mixture to potato mixture; mix well. Pour into 2-quart baking dish. Sprinkle with potato chips. Bake 45 to 60 minutes or until thoroughly heated.
Wednesday, July 19, 2006
i said, we live in a bubble.
whew! just finished writing a monster response to a 1-line comment that i decided belongs on the blog proper, as opposed to being allowed to linger in the comments section. Anonymous's* post was in response to my post titled "we live in a bubble."
*grammar nerd alert--I do believe it is "Anonymous's" as opposed to "Anonymous' ," as, with very few exceptions, proper nouns ending in "s" are expressed in the possessive by using an apostrophe and another "s," a notable exception being any reference to Jesus, where you would write "Jesus' " BUT only when referring to Jesus Christ. Your friend Jesus who is not the Son of God would still be be "Jesus's." Interesting eh? Grammar debate, anyone?....anyone?*
#
At 2:59 PM, Anonymous said…
You mean, “I live in a bubble”. Take some responsibility for your ignorance!
#
At 7:18 PM, K said…
Hm.
By "we live in a bubble," I meant that it's oftentimes hard for me to believe, even though I hear of it on the radio or read it in the news, that the atrocities that happen outside the US are real. Because though I see it on TV, it doesn't affect my life in any tangible way, except maybe paying a few more bucks at the gas station.
When I look out my window, I see palm trees and ocean. When people like BEYFlyer (mentioned in the post below) look out their window, they see the shit being bombed out of Beiruit airport.
It was not until I visited the minefields of Cambodia that I saw beggars with their limbs hanging off them in stumps, and Pol-Pot's regime became something a little more real than a lead pencil smudge on a history test. It wasn't until I spent thousands of hours volunteering for immigrant farmers in Mexico, generations of whom live their entire lives in cardboard shacks, that I realized the true cost of my salad veggies.
The "bubble" is the very sad fact that if I stopped reading certain news websites, and stopped listening to certain radio stations, and stopped travelling...I simply wouldn't find out about the atrocities that happen each and every single day to the majority of the population of this world.
Do you disagree?
As an American, I have the ability to choose between seeking information about the "outside," or simply ignoring it--and it makes me so concerned that some people choose to ignore.
I've had more than a few people ask me why I care about what happens outside this country...and why I bother to ever leave the US. I think it's a tragedy that it's not uncommon for people in this country to think this way.
One law student whom a lot of us at school know famously quoted: "why would I ever need to subscribe to and read TIME, or The Economist, or Newsweek? I'm not ugly! Only ugly people need to read those things." Sigh.
Maybe you do live in a war-torn area, in which case, you have every right to say I, as opposed to "we," live in a bubble. Because I, and a lot of other people in this country, do. But if you live in the US--wouldn't you agree that this place sometimes resembles Truman's world?
Hey, not that I'm complaining about living in a safe place. Just that--the more I read, the more I'm convinced America is this little island of ignorance in a sea of suffering people who for the most part hate our guts. Wouldn't a synonym for that be...bubble? Just travel anywhere else in the world--anywhere!--and ask the locals what they think about our government.
I should add that my comment about not reading the news or listening to NPR anymore was totally in jest. As all who know me can attest, I'm quite the international affairs junkie. Law school puts that on the back burner sometimes, but it's certainly one of my loves in life.
Ignorance is something that happens when you close yourself to the world, and to the opinions of others. I try my best not to do that.
Glad you stopped by to read, but surprised you'd come to such a hasty judgment.
-K
*grammar nerd alert--I do believe it is "Anonymous's" as opposed to "Anonymous' ," as, with very few exceptions, proper nouns ending in "s" are expressed in the possessive by using an apostrophe and another "s," a notable exception being any reference to Jesus, where you would write "Jesus' " BUT only when referring to Jesus Christ. Your friend Jesus who is not the Son of God would still be be "Jesus's." Interesting eh? Grammar debate, anyone?....anyone?*
#
At 2:59 PM, Anonymous said…
You mean, “I live in a bubble”. Take some responsibility for your ignorance!
#
At 7:18 PM, K said…
Hm.
By "we live in a bubble," I meant that it's oftentimes hard for me to believe, even though I hear of it on the radio or read it in the news, that the atrocities that happen outside the US are real. Because though I see it on TV, it doesn't affect my life in any tangible way, except maybe paying a few more bucks at the gas station.
When I look out my window, I see palm trees and ocean. When people like BEYFlyer (mentioned in the post below) look out their window, they see the shit being bombed out of Beiruit airport.
It was not until I visited the minefields of Cambodia that I saw beggars with their limbs hanging off them in stumps, and Pol-Pot's regime became something a little more real than a lead pencil smudge on a history test. It wasn't until I spent thousands of hours volunteering for immigrant farmers in Mexico, generations of whom live their entire lives in cardboard shacks, that I realized the true cost of my salad veggies.
The "bubble" is the very sad fact that if I stopped reading certain news websites, and stopped listening to certain radio stations, and stopped travelling...I simply wouldn't find out about the atrocities that happen each and every single day to the majority of the population of this world.
Do you disagree?
As an American, I have the ability to choose between seeking information about the "outside," or simply ignoring it--and it makes me so concerned that some people choose to ignore.
I've had more than a few people ask me why I care about what happens outside this country...and why I bother to ever leave the US. I think it's a tragedy that it's not uncommon for people in this country to think this way.
One law student whom a lot of us at school know famously quoted: "why would I ever need to subscribe to and read TIME, or The Economist, or Newsweek? I'm not ugly! Only ugly people need to read those things." Sigh.
Maybe you do live in a war-torn area, in which case, you have every right to say I, as opposed to "we," live in a bubble. Because I, and a lot of other people in this country, do. But if you live in the US--wouldn't you agree that this place sometimes resembles Truman's world?
Hey, not that I'm complaining about living in a safe place. Just that--the more I read, the more I'm convinced America is this little island of ignorance in a sea of suffering people who for the most part hate our guts. Wouldn't a synonym for that be...bubble? Just travel anywhere else in the world--anywhere!--and ask the locals what they think about our government.
I should add that my comment about not reading the news or listening to NPR anymore was totally in jest. As all who know me can attest, I'm quite the international affairs junkie. Law school puts that on the back burner sometimes, but it's certainly one of my loves in life.
Ignorance is something that happens when you close yourself to the world, and to the opinions of others. I try my best not to do that.
Glad you stopped by to read, but surprised you'd come to such a hasty judgment.
-K
Tuesday, July 18, 2006
johns hopkins gives a bunch of shrooms to a group of smart people...enlightenment ensues
Wall Street Journal article:
In a study that could revive interest in researching the effects of psychedelic drugs, scientists said a substance in certain mushrooms induced powerful, mind-altering experiences among a group of well-educated, middle-age men and women.
really??? who knew!
multicolored undulating hat tip to tony for the link.
In a study that could revive interest in researching the effects of psychedelic drugs, scientists said a substance in certain mushrooms induced powerful, mind-altering experiences among a group of well-educated, middle-age men and women.
really??? who knew!
multicolored undulating hat tip to tony for the link.
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