I have arrived in Massachusetts, thanks to a miraculous woman at one of the dozens of United Airlines counters in O'Hare. The people at O'Hare remain true to their word. I have no doubts that that place is indeed the busiest airport in the world.
My flight to Manchester was delayed many multiple times before it was finally cancelled. Indeed, I'm not sure how even Boston was able to clear the massive amounts of snow from their runways in time for planes to land. I spoke to a woman at a localized counter in lieu of standing in a customer service line that was quite literally a quarter mile long and two to three people thick. Having observed many harried passengers and employees alike, I decided that good humor and a smile are really the weaponry of the cunning when it comes to getting your way in the airport. I'd watched the poor woman at my chosen United counter get harassed by anxious and irritated travelers with a variety of twangy and lilted voices. I approached her with sympathy and politely explained my situation and my hope that I'd be able to put on stand by for the next flight to Boston. She didn't say much, but tapped on her little computer furiously, ripped my boarding pass to Manchester in half and promptly issued me a new ticket. I'd just witnessed countless people get denied... probably for lack of manners, so I felt pretty special. I called the lady magical, wished her a happy holiday and danced my way over to a seat. There must have been hundreds of people-- maybe thousands with no flight in that concourse.
Anyway, I made it out of there. I'm not sure how-- I'm sure the winds of Chicago would have blown us all to hell if the plane had been any less stalwart. It was pretty thrilling either way. I'm not sure how I made it, but I did. Driving home (which usually takes 40 minutes) took us an hour and a half... people were driving through the slush like getting where they were going quickly was a matter of life or death haha... how ironic. The difference between here and Saint Louis? When people do it here, there aren't car crashes all over the road. There's something to be said for knowing how to handle in the snow pretty well at high speeds-- but there's also something to be said for the "i've never been in an accident so I probably never will" naïvety.
My brother is schlepping me up to Manchester to collect mes baggages perdues, probably not out of goodwill as much as a strong desire to show off his new method of transportation... 2009 WRX in gunmetal gray. A car well-suited to the perenially insane driver. Afterward, a sibling reunion of sorts will occur over lunch.
I think I'm going to Maine tomorrow to visit my grandmother. I haven't seen her in over a year-- probably more like two years. She's suffering from Alzheimers so I'm not sure she'll remember anything about me. It'll be good to see her regardless.
Anyway, huzzah-- I'm back in New England. Home. Off to collect the baggageses. 8')
The cold, cabin-confined months of winter are the perfect time to mull over the state of the nation's bicycle commuting infrastructure.
The good news! Obama is knocking around names like Earl Blumenauer (congressman from Oregon-- perhaps the friendliest state toward bicycle traffic) and Jim Oberstar (congressman from Minnesota, mountain biking state extraordinaire) for Transportation Director. These bicycle advocates would almost surely make some positive changes in our lagging national transportation network. If you look at Blumenauer's site and transportation priorities, it all looks incredibly positive. I'm hoping that a bipartisan effort will be made to renew and reinvent (sometimes for the second time) our infrastructure. A return to rail and bicycles? It really, really, really wouldn't hurt to gradually abandon our car culture.
Synopsis of that site:
- Street cars and "Smart Starts"
- Amtrak and Rail Freight
- Bicycle and Pedestrian needs
Anyway.
St. Louis proved to be a harrowing bicycling experience, mostly for lack of light and space on Ladue Rd. Now that I'm downtown, I'm more concerned about the kinds of people lurking nearby. There seems to be ample space for bicyclists to assert themselves-- downtown is hardly cramped. The western portion of the city could really benefit from some city street redesign. By that I mean slapping some paint down on the pavement and declaring it bicycle and scooter territory. I can't help but feel anxious as I see scooter drivers in open lanes asserting themselves as cars. They're so very vulnerable.
Is cramping automobile traffic so very bad? They would perhaps be obliged to drive a bit slower, perhaps.
Bike commuting news!
A big no-brainer
New bicycle lanes in Manhattan
Pedal powered cabs in Pensacola now!
The case for separated bike lanes. And how.
While it wasn't too long ago, that my colleague and I were driving to work solo, we have recently joined the seeminly small population of carpoolers in St. Louis city. With highway-40 closed for 5 miles of critical commuting territory, you'd think other people would get a clue as well.
Just this morning Tara observed that most of the east-bound traffic on Forest Park Parkway were cars with just one passenger. Carpool, fools. I cannot tell you how wonderful it is to sit in a car and ride for a week at a time than contend with traffic behind the wheel personally.
Apparently, we're part of something that's developing
On a final note,
Are you kidding me? Metro to make cutbacks in St. Louis.
Dinner Club this week:
Roast Goose with gravy
Glazed and roasted carrots
Lobster Bisque with brandy
Arugula and endive salad with a honey vinaigrette
A variety of mashed potatoes
Cabbage cooked with apples
A chocolate bûche de noël
Pastries filled with vanilla cream
Best yet. Thank you, Wes!
Food glorious, food. I've stumbled into something fabulous.
Every week (or two) there's a dinner served at one of two stupendous St. Louis eateries-- The Scottish Arms and The Shaved Duck. The dinners each have a theme. So far I've been lucky enough to attend three-- The British Empire, All the Trimmings and tonight, Mint. I've been fortunate to have ducked Foot and Face and Organ Meats... but I'll bet even that was phenomenal. And really my fear and reluctance is more talk than anything-- I did have the haggis at the Arms the first time I was there.
Tonight we were served several dishes, each containing mint.
Pappardelle with mint pesto
Mashed Parsnips with Mint
Pork with Mustard Mint Sauce
Spinach Salad with Mint and Duck Fat Dressing
Braised Rabbit with Mint and Vegetables
Chicken Curry with Mint
Chocolate Truffles filled with Mint and some kind of nut
Carrot french fries with mint mayonnaise
I think that might just about cover it. As usual, it was phenomenal. I may take pictures of the meal next week. It's a traditional French Christmas complete with a roast goose. The week after that? Lamb. Oh baby.
Additionally! Agave!
Jim and I went out to a wonderful dinner at Agave on Manchester this weekend. It's safe to say that it was there that I experienced the best Margarita I've ever had. El Mayor Blanco tequila, Gran Gala, Cointreau, fresh lime juice and agave nectar. My god. I also had the snapper with tomatillos and roasted chiles. It was quite phenomenal. It was pricey, but you pay for presentation and atmosphere. Go for the margaritas if nothing else. You will NOT be disappointed. They do a tamarind margarita as well that was pretty stellar.
Toodooloo for now!
The best chair in the world! 89 bucks at Treasure Aisles. Oh baby.
Please ignore the clutter, I am still settling in.
Contrary to what the title suggests, I actually really enjoyed this film.
All I'm really mocking are the hordes of teenage girls clawing at their faces as they anticipate the film. It probably includes some of my eighth grade girls, and frankly, back in my teenage years? I'd probably have clawed at my face a little too.
For those who have not read the book or seen the previews, Twilight centers around a girl named Bella. Delightfully ordinary, but with a sharp wit, an isolationist attitude and a serious problem with clumsiness. Bella decides to leave her mother and her new step-dad behind in one of the driest places in the US for one of the wettest to live with her father for a while. In a tiny town named Forks, Bella quickly is navigated through the limited social workings of the local high school. She encounters a strange and inhumanly beautiful guy there who seems about bipolar as they come and they develop a nearly immediate fascination with one another.
Push comes to shove? He's a vampire, he wants to both eat her and spend the rest of his days with her and she could care less of the danger at hand. Cue gratuitous girl-porn love story!
While I enjoyed this movie-- and I'll tell you why momentarily, I would like to get my gripes out of the way.
1. The score. I am a self-described connoisseur of movie scores and soundtracks. This movie had an appealing theme, but I found that most of the music written specifically for the movie was mishandled. While the writing was good the *scoring* was bad. It was not applied to the film as seamlessly as it should have been. I was pretty disappointed. On the other hand, a lot of the songs that were used (mostly inappropriately with a couple of exceptions) were phenomenal and I'm looking forward to actually buying the soundtrack. Go figure.
2. The movie was criminally underfunded and it shows. A lot of its shortcomings probably stem from this low budget, but none more so than in the special effects and camera work. The cinematographer did mostly terrible work. Some of it was directorial, I admit, but it kind of seemed like the camera man couldn't pick a style and stick with it. It went to shaky hand held, to sweeping (but shaky low budget) fly arounds, to another style to yet another style... all within the space of one scene. It was distracting and amplified the cheese. Sad. You could see some of the scenes where they had actually spent a lot of their money, but unfortunately they were often overshadowed by the ones with bad special effects. Let me be clear! By bad, I certainly don't mean old school-- just, obvious CGI or something.
3. The most pivotal love scene in the movie, really a mishmash of a variety of scenes in the book was totally mishandled. Instead of the intense, poignant, sweet and sweeping scene it could have been it came off as sloppy and cheesy. The actors did what they could but this was clearly a directorial mistake. I was sad about that. A combination of bad blocking and bad camerawork really killed it.
4. A lot of stuff was overdone. I mean, did there really need to be a crazy effect when Bella touched Edwards ice-cold skin the first time? Wouldn't a recoil by the actress have been enough? A movie like this needs to achieve a balance of the magic of the Cullen family (the vampires!) and the ordinaryness of the humans. Sometimes that balance was thrown because of the little overdone parts.
Anywayyyy, moving on. Reasons I really, really enjoyed this film.
The obvious ones!
2. Gory, gory, gory love. Oh to be a teenager and to write stuff like this again! There's a purity and an innocence about this love story that few can actually craft once they've experienced the real ins and outs of love. It's this ideal we cling to-- it's written into fairytales and myths. It's no different here. A little grotesque at times... not gross... just fanciful, but oh so good. Like secret stash of Reeses Peanut Butter Cup good. The kind of good that you don't want to let people know that you're secretly enjoying oh so very much.
3. The casting was just terrific, especially with the bit parts which are often forgotten. The team of kids that played the supporting high schoolers played their roles with heart. They may be the most believable group of high schoolers I've seen on film in a while, at least in this kind of teen flick.
4. The handled the suspense well near the end. I wish they spent more time with it in a way, but the book doesn't, so why should they have? I wanted them to linger on the hunt a little longer. Still it was handled well.
5. Kristen Stewart as Bella is a brilliant, brilliant choice. People say the character isn't likeable and perhaps that's because we see a bit too much of what is going on in her head. The sad reality is that teenage girls everywhere think those same thoughts about completely fallible, normal, idiotic teenage boys. Sad really. I don't disqualify her because she has pathetically naive and needy tendencies. Anyway, well done, to her as well.
well, there is a monkeypants asleep in between myself and this laptop and it's getting increasingly awkward to share. Toodles my friends. Toodles.
Jamie Oliver, you can have my heart
Posted by Larissa Labels: chefs, cookbooks, cooking, food, risottoOne of the first cookbooks I ever owned was The Naked Chef by Jamie Oliver. I almost certain that somewhere along the line, I was given a copy of The Return of the Naked Chef, and that later along that same line I lost it.
I ignored it for many years, mostly because I lacked an appropriate kitchen and the necessary budget to create some of his brilliant recipes.
Inspired by my friend Todd's amazing Saffron Porcini Risotto I'd had December 2007. I decided... it is time. Time to make risotto. Time to try my hand. I'd remembered that The Naked Chef had some risotto recipes, so I went at it. I made a Cranberry Bean, Rosemary and Bacon risotto. Those who ate it told me it could have been from a five star restaurant. Yessss! Success! I mean-- with enough butter, bacon fat and parmesan anything could be a success, but success nonetheless! Jamie, you served me well.
This Thanksgiving I'll be making a roast chicken a l'Oliver. I'm giving you my heart, Jamie Oliver. Clog it if you will. I expect you'll make every meal a little sweeter from now on.
Also, on a separate note, Monkey really enjoys cotton balls.
Three months in brief, details to come:
1. School = good.
2. Bicycling to school? To damn dark and as a result, dangerous. No longer bicycling to school.
3. New apartment downtown!
Some have argued that I've been criminally negligent about this blog. Rather than post tasty little stories about the day to day experiences, my negligence has relegated my blogs to sweeping updates over many months which must, then, omit any interesting little details.
Schoolio
I'm not going to carry on about school very long, other than the fact that the kids are amusing, my job is interesting, my co-teacher rules and the other co-workers are all an incredible nice bunch. I feel fortunate to have stumbled upon this position. If I thought I could get away with it, I'd post the entertaining bits from my students papers that I've been stockpiling. Tara (co-teacher) and I shared many a laugh over the gross leaps and assumptions the students made in their papers. Sadly, though, I don't think I could get away with it.
Bike Abandonment
It goes without saying that I had a hard time hitting the saddle again after that crash. There were a couple things that happened that led to the decision to quit commuting by bike. I will only really dwell on the major issue, darkness. When I first started to commute, I would begin my route in darkness in south Saint Louis. Thankfully there were street lights wherever I needed them and they guided me safely until the sun came up around 6 am. I did not, however, take into consideration the gradual shortening of the days and I soon found myself navigating streets without street lights in total darkness. Wydown was manageable, save dodging the packs of stay-at-home wives that jog down the street toward Forest Park. Ladue Road however was terrifying. Even in the light, Ladue had its share of problems. The "pedestrian and bike only" shoulder that is reserved was commonly littered with sticks and pebbles, dangerous to anybody riding a roadbike. The solution was to then ride the white stripe, which I did knowing that morning commuters could see me in the wan light. Once it got dark though, I was doomed. I went out and spent an unacceptable amount of money on a super bright headlight and tail light only to give into my anxieties about riding in the morning. In short, I gave it up.
Fear not, however! I am now carpooling to school, effectively elimating one car from the highways each morning. Why don't more people do it? It's lovely.
The New, Not-So-Humble Abode
Interestingly enough, the new apartment has many fishbowl like qualities. Not as many as Glass House once had, but I do have a set of four 8 foot tall windows. The view from within? A derelict building. The massive kitchen makes up for that though.
Anyway, I'll write more later and I'll try to get some pictures up. Business calls!
The joys, terrors and frustrations of bicycle commuting
Posted by Larissa Labels: agony, bikes, injury, St. LouisSo my friends, I've been commuting to work for two weeks now. Not every day mind you and that has to do with some of the more frustrating moments. I ride 12 miles to school at 5:30 AM and 12 miles home whenever I finish up there. Aside from the woes of it all, riding to school in the morning is joy. There are no cars on the road, I can move swiftly through empty intersections and arrive at school within one hour. The ride home is admittedly hairier, requiring maneuvers through shoulderless streets in a one mile stretch at rush hour. Cars typically heed me, mostly because I have a fluorescent yellow jacket, a bright orange messenger bag and two blinky LED lights tail and front. They do their best to accommodate me in narrow conditions.
The woes!
1. Getting a flat tire at 5:50 in the morning 5 miles from home with no cell phone, patch kit, pump or spare. That was a treat.
2. Purchasing new tires and tubes the next day only to have some kind of pinch flat during the school day. The new tires are snazzy puncture resistant ones that are an upgrade from my Bontrager Race x-Lites that just aren't built for the stresses of city streets.
3. Taking my new, shiny, unused tires home after changing said flat and completely slipping as I corner at 10 mph or so onto the next street.
4. The effects of a good bike crash! I missed the first two days of classes, spent one of them in the ER getting cat scanned, x-rayed, urine sampled and pregnancy tested. All manner of tests. Only for the doctor to go... "Yep, you've got a big bruise on your hip, a wrist sprain etc. Here's a script for some fancy drugs, off you go!" (I didn't even see the doc actually, he just wrote me some nice paperwork.) My boss made me stay home the next day and rest and I relaxed all weekend, my muscles recovering from the trauma gradually.
5. Today another rear tire flat that happened *during* the school day. I'm starting to wonder if trouble is afoot and if I shouldn't park my bike elsewhere. Literally I took my bike over to a coworker who also rides to repair my crooked handlebars with an allen wrench, put it back and then an hour later the rear tire is flat! What? Suspicion! I will have to stash my bike somewhere more secret I think, my god. I was near crazed with frustration, yelling like a mad woman.
Needless to say I'll be going to the bike shop to do some sleuthwork with them tonight. Figure out if some little bastard is popping my tire because "it's fun" or whether I'm just getting pinch flats or something... during the school day. (Which makes no sense whatsoever)
For now, I am determined to keep riding. It's keeping me in good shape and it's fun for the most part. There's a lot of joy in feeling the breeze on my face and the strain of my muscles before and after a work day.
Toodles for now.
I have arrived! In this great land of beer, giant rivers, conservative minded folk, unnecessarily large arches and uh... thunderstorms? Truthfully, I've been here for a week and a half and I've been handily avoiding posting a blog, much to my mother's chagrin. She decreed that I should write a new one yesterday (I believe anyway... all the days blend together when you essentially have nothing to do). I'm not quite settled in because my motivation to settle in declined exponentially after the first week. It's also a function of my lack of storage units. Lots of closets and space, not nearly enough shelving!
Anyway, this might be more interesting if I were equipped with a Star Trek tricorder. I could tell you about the air quality schematics, local carbon density and whether it can sustain a New Englander like myself. Alas, I must rely on more primitive methods like trying stuff first hand.
I will organize this all for your benefit! You can thank me later
The Crib/Pad/Homestead/Base of Operations/Lair
I could not be more pleased with my domecile. It's a large "bungalow" (I know not what to call it otherwise) on a street jampacked with other 1920's era homes of a similar style. It's pretty idyllic, I'm not going to lie. 300 yards away from me is a really, really excellent Italian place called Onesto's. My Dad, who
helped me move, went with me the very first day. Pesto chicken pizza!
My roommate, Dana, is an interior designer so naturally it is impeccably decorated. I imagine that one day if I own it will be a chaos of color and flea market finds and hardly as sophisticated as this. 
For now, it is nice to have this elegant experience. My room is pretty big! It's also got two, not one, walk in closets. The bathroom is huge. I could practice yoga in there if you get what I'm saying. The shower even has old person seats built into it for times-- like today-- when I've been reduced to an old woman by my one time personal trainer at the gym. Sitting in the shower is lazy and awesome.
I like the kitchen. I hesitate to call the stove "vintage" but it looks vintage to me. It's probably from the 80s or something. I like that it's gas though. Electric stoves can eat my human waste products. Also I have several basil plants growing in the kitchen window that isn't pictured as well as a thyme plant. I've been line drying my clothes, out of conservation as much as necessity (we don't have a dryer) and stepping around the minefield of the house dog's doo in the back yard. We should totally look into a pet poop composter for his crap!
Sightseeing with Reesh
I will post pictures of the Mushroom Kingdom, which is my new, fond name for the back yard. I woke up yesterday morning and was delighted to find a veritable trail of large white mushrooms growing in the back yard. It's like they found the fungal version of the Northwest Passage and are all jumping on the bandwagon. I'm an odd person and I like mushrooms (and not just in my Marsala). Also, please note the attack against the kingdom by the fearsome monster Berrin.
So that wasn't really sight seeing, and maybe I'm not very good at compartmentalizing my blog. Let's try again.
Sightseeing with Reesh!
Saint Louis is a city unlike any I've ever visited. Quick observations:
- It's a driving city-- public transit is much more limited, everything is spread out and linked by more than a few major highways. Even taxis are expensive and less common.
- People routinely ask each other what high school you went to. I was told about this phenomenon and joked about being asked that question before I ever experienced it first hand. Sure enough, it's the first test you'll need to pass if you're a native Saint Louisan out and about.
- Nobody stops for four-way stop signs. Rolling stops all around. In fact I was told I'd be rear-ended if I stopped fully. I haven't been rear-ended yet, but maybe people cut me a break because I still have my NY plates?
- The Cardinals and Budlight are king. Don't mess with them.
- Don't ask about where you can find organic food, odds are if it's not Whole Foods or Trader Joe's you won't find it.
- All the museums are free! Weeeee! I've already been to the zoo... for free.
- Saint Louisans are otherwise pretty good, polite drivers. I have seen very little auto-aggression so far.
Anyway, in spite of the love for Anheuser-Busch and that sadness over its recent sale to InBev, there are a lot of really, really good beer stores. People like beer here! Yay! Just a mile up the road is a great beer/wine store cleverly disguised as a deli. Haha, Deli, I'm on to you. They make good pastrami sandwiches, but I like being overwhelmed by uncommon beer brands. There's a bar I've been to twice now that only sells beer in cans. It's been around long enough that it's actually called the "Tin Can" but tonight I went and sampled some of Milwaukees finest libations. I think there will be a forthcoming blog entry about that actually.St. Louis Folk
I could really use a copy editor here, because I'm almost certain that I'm not organizing this blog well. An observation: there are definitely men here that have a distinct "midwestern" look to them. Not all men, but definitely some. I'm not talking about clothes or attitudes, I'm talking about their faces. I can't define what it is that makes them look "Midwestern". All I know is that we don't have guys that look like that in the Northeast and that I know them when I see them. Maybe I'll steal a picture some time of said "Midwestern-faced man"? If I ever snag one, I will know without a shadow of a doubt that this man is from the Midwest and he's not lying to me about it.
The people are *really* friendly. Even when they're ultra conservative and cannot possibly find a way to agree with me! However, Dana mentioned that a lot of guys who are from Saint Louis are often pretty miserable. This is because they've lived here their whole lives, have had the same group of friends their entire lives and secretly yearn for a change but stay right here. Thus they become embittered and angry men. I would argue that they become unnecessarily staunch about their conservative values. The dating scene is probably a minefield of self-righteous Republicans. I gotta watch out for those. We'd bicker til we're finished.
Anyway, I suppose this is enough for now. This is MY decree, take that, Mom. I will regale you with my beer observation tomorrow, maybe even at dawn's first light if you're lucky.
Cheerios!
I went with Mandy's hair. I love, love how it came out. Big tip for the hair dresser, yay!
I'm getting my hair cut on June 4th, so I'm looking for everyone's advice on how I should do it.
Here's its current look... it's been growing out for a while but there are no layers and extra long bangs that I've intentionally gone without trimming for two months maybe.
Now here's what I'm looking at:
or
I have successfully completed my first 110 mile bike ride. It was the Placid Planet Century ride. Why 110, then, you ask? I'll explain later.
Sunday did not start out well. In a moment of brilliance the night before I'd decided to have two Caribbean Cowboy painkillers, paint my fingernails a striking magenta color and not stretch out for a good thirty minutes. Or ride my warm-up 15 miles on my periwinkle blue (admittedly it's a little girlier than periwinkle, but that's marketing for you).
I woke up at 5 am and thought to myself, well... I could just do the fifty. Get some more sleep in... feel more refreshed. My stomach was unhappy about the various kinds of rum I'd put in my body the night before and I was almost certain it would reject food if I tried to choke some down. 7:15 am, T-45 minutes before the ride, a friend convinced me that I really out to get my ass out of bed and do the 100. I did pay $35 bucks and it would be quite the feat. I pulled myself out of bed, threw on my shorts, my favorite bike jersey-- a bright pink Louis Garneau, ate an energy for a quick pre-breakfast and sped off to Lake Placid Health and Fitness for the start.
I felt like the lone amateur in a crowd of Ironman and racing vets, clad in their fanciful team jersey/shorts combos. I might have been one of the few with a mismatched jersey and shorts but you know what? My fingernails were painted magenta to match my jersey, which is more than I can say for them. Suck on that Team Placid Planet. So I was a bit self-conscious riding with a bunch of hammerheads who will ultimately bike 100 miles in five hours. "Pacing yourself" to them means 20 mph average speed. Christ.
Still apprehensive amongst the leagues of team jerseys I moved toward the back of the pack as we set out both intentionally and unintentionally. A. I'm not as fast as those guys and B. I didn't want to push it too hard at the start.
The weather was gorgeous-- cool to start and warmed up to a sultry 72 degrees by mid day. We started off going downhill toward Wilmington and it's really nice to get a tailwind on the gradual slope. I mowed on some peanut butter fluff sandwiches on Wonderbread at the first aid station 20 miles in. It's hard to believe the first 1/4 of the century took a little more than an hour. I made it to the second feed station in Peru by noontime, feeling good. The route had taken me on some rolling back roads with a good ratio of climbs/decents. Decents got the edge. Peru was the lowest part of the trip and naturally the second half of the day involved climbing.
I met a nice older guy named Dan who wanted to take it easy as well at the second feed station and we hung in with each other through the next twenty or so miles. After a while he just dusted me. I guess a former racer like himself might get a little annoyed/bored with a slow rider like me.
The last 30 miles were total agony. Between the pressure on my cooch for an extended amount of time, my decreasing abdominal strength and subsequent back/arm/neck pain from resting my weight on the handlebars, I was done. I was alone on the long sweeping climbs between Hawkeye and Blackbrook but climbed them steadily stopping a few times to call someone for moral support. I suppressed whimpers and sobs of pain and exhaustion. I routinely tried to shake my arms and shoulders loose, mostly failing.
By the time I arrived at the last feed station the sag-wagon guy was packing up to go look for me. I was moving slowly but steadily between 7 and 15 miles per hour depending on the terrain. I pulled over and was so overwhelmed by relief/other mixed emotions/trauma that I could barely pull together the will to speak. They gave me cookies and a banana to eat and lots of water. He promised he'd stop at pull offs and wait for me to pass before moving on to the next.
I pressed onward. Lots more elevation to go riding through the notch. I prayed for a tailwind. Much of it is gradual from Whiteface to Riverside Drive and if you have a strong enough wind on your side it's pretty much a coast. Somehow, I mustered some extra energy and ignored my ailing back and shoulders and carried my ass all the way into Lake Placid.
Once I reached Northwoods Road, the last of the mega-climbs I knew I'd make it. I patiently ascended the last of the hills toward the gym and rolled in at exactly 6 pm, streaked with grit, sunblock and bike grease. My cheeks were encrusted with salt where my sunglasses had collected sweat over the last ten hours. I'd failed to put sunblock on my fingers so I had a lovely bike glove sunburn. I rode straight by the last aid guys packing up. I sat in my car and mumbled to myself "I did it," over and over like I just might be partially schizophrenic. Then I made some phone calls, put away my bike and drove home, achey and shakey and unsure how to treat my body.
I may have been last but I feel good about that. I made my peace with the concept last year during the mini-triathlons. Most of those guys out there weren't pushing themselves or challenging themselves. They were just going out for a fun ride to keep them in their peak professional conditions. I, on the other hand, set out to finish in ten hours and that's just what I did, rest of the pack be damned. If you subtract my breaks at feed stations and other places probably 9 hours of riding all together. Considering I began road riding last June and just started this year a month or so ago, I am really thrilled with my accomplishment. Most of the people I told called me 'sick' or 'crazy', but they also said they were proud of me.
Today I feel pretty good. Sore, but not as sore as I'd been after climbing Street and Nye. I feel like I could actually run a few miles or god forbid it-- bike a few. Tomorrow I'm planning on riding in Keene Valley so that should be good, hopefully my poor, bruised rear hiney is up for it.
I also plotted an approximate profile for the ride based on actual elevations of the towns I rode through and the major climbs in between that I could remember and estimate elevations for. The last 40 miles are nutso.
I want to take a moment to appreciate quaking aspens, easily my favorite tree. I walked to the school building this morning and was overwhelmed by the beauty of the aspens which tend to burst into a crown of April green earlier than any other tree around here. I love their pristine silver tree trunks and the way the leaves jitter and spring alive at the slightest breeze. I love how they're the largest single organisms on the planet, several trees sharing the same root system over hundreds of square kilometers. Behold the beauty!
First movement. Well, I've found someplace to live! (Huzzah!) I'll be living on Finkman St. in the Princeton Heights neighborhood of St. Louis in a beautiful brick bungalow with a very cool lady (who also happens to have red hair). I'll be a whopping 12 miles away from school, which is a lengthy bike commute, but I think I can shave it down to 11 using my awesome powers of google map manipulation. I guess I'll just have to spend some time once I get down there learning
In the meantime, I spent some quality time with my co-worker Jeff in a van full of children on the way to Platts Vegas and back. We talked about everything from gold plated bicycle nipples to the efficiency of certain European auto engines. If you're unfamiliar with Jeff, he's a fountain of knowledge on all things science and tech and quite possibly more. He mentioned how nobody uses the word conservation anymore. Everyone is obsessed with how to find the newest latest energy source to support gluttonous energy consuming habits while invariably ignoring the concept of conservation.
I mean... are biofuels really a sustainable alternative? Take powering cars with leftover vegetable oils, animal fats. Or cellulose based ethanol from corn. Or fuel derived from sugar cane. Do we really want to be using our food supply to power our cars when the earth's population is growing exponentially? Check this out.
Before I leap into this conversation about conservation (I did smirk a bit as I wrote that), I can't deny the growing need for fuel alternatives. Wind power, solar power, biofuel, etc... the research is necessary. Watching our desperation for petroleum shape our suffering foreign policy is vomitous. But finding fuel alternatives is not enough.
Conservation is a broad term and we all know what it means in terms of environmental issues. But you just don't hear the term thrown around anymore. I did a search on CNN.com and found just one result that actually had the word "conservation" in the title on the first page when sorted by relevance. It appears that nobody in this country is interested in hearing about ways to save on energy. Obviously things are being done about it. Technology is improving to improve heat efficiency, electrical efficiency, etc. Rather than depend on technology to save our precious lifestyles, what ever happened to plain old saving?
Heat/cold efficiency?
People are working to make their homes more energy efficient with heat efficient windows.
Here's a fantastic article on how to naturally cool your home rather than turn on the AC. You can bet your panties that I'll be referring to this once I move to St. Louis. I mean people lived for thousands of years without AC. What did they do? They worked with what they had... built light colored homes made of earthy materials, rooms underground where you could spend time. I've never been in a basement where it wasn't cool. It's amazing the kinds of old school tricks we ignore in favor of our 'easy' central air. I don't know about you, but I'm not real interested in depending on an air conditioner to keep me cool.
Transportation
Firstly...
look what Paris has done!
The solutions are pretty simple, but it requires commitment and dedication on everyone's part. Walking! Biking! Heck even little Vespa motorbikes. Using public transportation. It makes me crazy that we as a nation don't invest more into our rail systems. Anybody who has been to Europe and even Asia has experienced the ease and efficiency of their train systems. When I lived in Belgium, I'd ride my bike to the station, hop a train to Brussels and then hop out and walk or use Brussels' local transit system. It was brilliant. It was a way of life. What will it take for people to realize that rail is a more fuel efficient way to move goods (rather than semis), people and their pets?
Another interesting article about the future of rail in the U.S.
It would be so very simple if cities would just paint bike lines. More people would be willing to take to the streets on bike if the city as a whole was more aware of cyclists and bike commuters. Apparently St. Louis is in the process of making itself more bike friendly, but in my opinion, it should be every major road, not just the major major ones (short of highway). I always loved coming to a red light in Bruges with a pack of twenty or so cyclists on their way to work/school in the morning. We were expected. It was lovely.
If you want my honest opinion, we should just cut to the chase and seek the technology for Star Trek transporters. But wait? How fuel efficient would they be?
Anyway, I'm losing grip on my focus here, so I suppose I'll cut it out for now. More later perhaps!
With a new job on the horizon that isn't
nestled deep in the rumpled interior of New York's Adirondacks, I've decided that next year, most of the year, I will be riding my bike to work.
If the reasons aren't immediately obvious to you, I'll spell them out.
*Gas is up to nearly $4.00 a gallon. As is, I live at work and have no commute and filling up my tank on occasion cuts me deep. If I lived 8 miles away, I'd be spending a lot of money on gas. I'm just not interested.
*Instant work out! If I lived just 8 miles from school I'd be putting in 16 miles a day... that's about an hour or so of cardio built into my schedule.
*None of the headaches of waiting in a car at traffic lights. The thrill of zipping by long lines of frustrated drivers.
*Extending the life of my beloved purpley-blue Toyota Corolla. The longer that things lasts and looks nice the happier I'll be. It's at 70k miles right now, I'd love to have it many more years. Not driving it every day will make it last!
Anyway, those are the main reasons. I haven't thought as far as winter yet, but I could always drive during those times of the year. Or outfit my bike to handle it! I want a bike I can go pick up groceries with.
Here's a really interesting article about bike commuting
I wish bike commuting was better supported, frankly. Bike lanes in more cities and towns. Places to stash your bike. More share the road signs. If more people commuted by bike our nation would be healthier, less congested and polluted.
Once upon a time I lived in northern Belgium where traveling by bike was a way of life. Even in the rainy, icy winters, I would bike about 14 or 15 miles round trip to school. I'd bike to meet up with friends. I'd bike to the train station. That's just the way of things over there. You'd see crazy mofos riding holding umbrellas or coffees. It was so very awesome.
In another life I biked to all my summer jobs. The hotel housekeeping job at Tory Pines. The ice cream scooping job at Kimball Farm. At the very least it offset the calories consumed at the ice cream place.
Anyway, I love bikes and this is clearly no secret.
The history of my bikes:
The Spoiler
Now this is a modern version of a bike I used to have which was white with white knobby tires. It was a BMX styled sucker that came with training wheels when I first had it. I would ride that bike up Crotched Mountain or down our dirt road full tilt only to skid into our drive way. Lots of scrapes from crashing too. It has those velcro things that went around the handlebars that had the name of the bike. No streamers though. I was more hardcore than that. Here I am riding it on the right! Ha, the years before helmets.
The Raleigh Venture I don't know where we got them but we were given some heavy duty steel street bikes. I got the silver one! I rode this sucker to town or to work wherever I wanted. Sometimes to my best friend's house. I can't seem to find an old school picture. It was probably a late 80's model. We still have it hanging in the basement of my mom's house. They should probably consider selling it.
The Mountain Technium At some point my uncle decided that my Raleigh wasn't cutting it anymore and loaned me his Raleigh Mountain Technium that he'd raced on many years earlier. I used it to make it to the ice cream shop mostly as I didn't transition into recreational riding very well. It was a very utilitarian habit for me. I didn't really know how to take care of it though and was soon lured away from it by fast twitch shifters and shiny new parts.
2005: The Gary Fisher Marlin GS!
One summer day my friend Eli and I made a pact. "I'll get a guitar if you get yourself a new bike." And so we went shopping. Within a few hours he had a new Taylor guitar and I had this shiny new Gary Fisher. He sat on the trunk of my car and played songs while I cruised around the bike shop parking lot. I named my bike Super Taylor and covered it with DC Comics hero stickers. This was my first real recreational bike since the Spoiler I had as a kid. I took it off the road. I learned to mountain bike properly. It transported me to work. It still gets me to the school building and back!
2007: Trek Pilot 5.0
The big investment. A carbon frame road bike designed for distance and climbing. Damn do I love this bike. I've had it tailored to my body geometry. I have put hundreds and hundreds of miles on it. On May 25th, I'll ride it 100 miles as part of the Placid Planet century ride. I love this bike. I love it.
The next bike?
Undoubtedly something designed for commuting and lugging stuff. I'm considering the Kona Ute, but ultimately I'll have to test ride a bunch when I get to St. Louis. Woo!
I'm going to arrange this by FAQ, I think just so it's clear.
You're not going to Korea anymore?
True. Korea is no longer my destination of choice.
Why not? What changed?
Some time ago, really about a month, I made the decision. My sister announced that she was engaged and I decided that that was the perfect excuse to stay close to home. I didn't want to be 8,000 miles from my family when she was planning her wedding nor did I want to be in a place where your employer makes it near impossible for you to get away for a vacation. Or you know, I didn't want to drop the $2,000 on a plane ticket to go home for a brief time.
Upon further deliberation, however, I realized that I had been feeling less and less excited about the prospect of living there. Not because it's not a terribly cool place, but because the change I desired did not have to be quite so earth-shatteringly drastic. I could move somewhere in the U.S. and feel the same euphoric effects.
Did you want to come back to your current school?
Initially, I went to my administrative team at school and informed them of my sudden change of heart. Their response was obvious elation, although subsequent meetings left me less hopeful. I wanted to teach more science, or perhaps even geography, but it became rapidly evident that those positions were not available to me. Geography had shifted toward history and that made me less qualified. No science positions were opening up aside from the one I already held.
Math was offered to me but you know what? I hate math. Well, I don't mind it. But I certainly don't love it enough to make a career of it. Kids deserve a teacher who can make it exciting for them. I simply can't. There was a moment's excitement between two of my former houseparenting team that we might be able to live together and houseparent together. But ultimately that's only part of the whole package.
If NCS doesn't have anything, then what?
So I began my search. I reactivated my Carney Sandoe & Associates account, as this firm had provided me with a referral for my current and last job. Within a week they'd sent me 40 or so schools looking for someone just like me. A middle school teacher with 2-5 years teaching experience gets a lot more referrals than a wannabe middle school teacher with no regular classroom experience. Yay! But I entered late in the game so I wasn't feeling particularly confident about it all. Some schools piqued my interest and I sent out what felt like eleventy-billion cover letters.
A week or so later I got an e-mail from my Carney Sandoe rep who gave me a heads up that I'd be called by the head of the middle school in a school in Saint Louis, MO. My first instinct was "Nooooo! I didn't list St. Louis in my geographical locations of choice!" But lo and behold I received a phone call by a very enthusiastic and insistent head of middle school and we began talking. He talked about the school and how great it is. Then he convinced me to fly down and see the school as soon as possible. Somehow, I found myself agreeing.
Did you interview anywhere else?
I did. I interviewed at a school on the North Shore in Massachusetts. It was a great interview! Nice school... great people. I was very impressed when I left.
Well what happened?
Shortly afterward I went to Saint Louis and I fell in love. Every single person I met was warm and made me feel completely at ease. The city was beautiful and tree-covered, filled with adorable restaurants with umbrellas and terraces. The middle school head welcomed me into his home just hours after meeting me. I ate dinner with science teachers. They were incredibly hospitable.
But the school was just remarkable. Expansive science labs with the latest in learning technology, gender separated classes of just 15 or so kids, curriculum IT support, extensive professional development. If hired, they would pay for me to attend Washington University for grad school... or wherever else I might be interested in studying.
My interview went remarkably well, so well that when I finally met with the head of all three divisions of the school, she extended me a job offer and a salary that is astoundingly high for a city that is so very affordable. Understanding what an amazing opportunity this was, I seized it.
THUS, that brings me to the present. I am planning to move to Saint Louis around August 1st. If anyone wants to come on a roadtrip with me... PLEASE... let me know! It would be fun. I figure I'll get a trailer hitch and a mini u-haul trailer and drive 55 all the way there.
And if you want to come and party let me know!
Inside the Ricebowl Part 3: The spectrum of edible seafood
Posted by Larissa Labels: food, Jeju, Korea, seafoodI will *NOT* eat a sea squirt
Throughout my life, I've fancied myself adventurous. And of course this could be compared to my brother Ryan who found even tuna risky and generally roamed a realm devoid of vegetables and spices. I'd eaten frog's legs and horse meat, blood sausage and sushi, fish roe and steak tartare. Somehow, none of that could have prepared me for the horrifying delicacies that stared back at me during my last week in Korea.
Scene 1. A Chinese restaurant in Bundang. This was of course, a day after I'd been down and out with some kind of stomach bug that I'd contracted in Pyeongchang (see previous post). While they decided not to order me a full meal they instead ordered four for them and gave me small portions. On one level, I was thinking 'Whew, saaaaved!' but on another, I was really genuinely not very hungry. I sat beside a pushy 35 year old Korean lady, a relation of the family I was staying with. I would describe her as woefully culturally maladjusted as of all the people I met in Korea she was the one that understood my stomach the least. There are other reasons, but you'd have to ask me about those.
As the courses come out, I'm naturally apprehensive. Chinese food in Asia versus Chinese food in America is like taking a Monet and dumbing it down into a paint by numbers for the unsophisticated mind. While some dishes had that same Chinesey taste we're all familiar with, they usually contained an array of seafood that I normally wouldn't consider edible. The first soup, for instance, contained not just snails, not just shellfish but baby octopus. And I don't mean baby octopus tentacles. I mean a whole baby octopus, about the size of a golf ball. It goes without saying that I maneuvered around the creepy crawlers and slurped up the broth. While Beechna and her brother egged me on, a comedic glint in their eyes, knowing full well that eating a whole baby octopus is as hard for me as stomaching cream of wheat is for them, their cousin pushed. "Try it, it's delicious." She said this sentence a lot and every time grew more and more stressed. I tried to explain that it was frightening and difficult for me, but she couldn't really comprehend.
Later in the meal, a plate arrived with something that looked like dangmyeon, also known as glass noodles. I was excited because it looked edible. Moments later I learned they were jellyfish tentacles. Pneumatocysts! Pneumatocysts! I justified my aversion with my well-developed knowledge of jellyfish as a result of my coastal biology term abroad in college. How could I eat something that once upon a time was full of destructive little stinging cells? I soldiered through the meal like a kid that had sneaked off to war at the age of seventeen, regretting my previously cavalier attitude. Little nuggets of fish spawn? Yeah, I don't think so.
Not long after my harrowing experience in the Chinese restaurant, we departed for Jeju Island, a semi tropical destination off the southern coast of Korea. I won't go into the details of that 
trip just yet, as I'm sticking to the topic of frightening encounters in the world of food. Jeju is well known for it's vast consumption of seafood and aside from the gorgeous volcano at the center of the island and the beautiful landscape, it could be considered the main attraction for vacationers.
The 'fish' markets all sold a bewildering variety of sea creatures. In the photo to the left, from top to bottom, these fish mongers were selling some kind of snail, sea squirts, sea cucumbers and some kind of creepy nematode. Actually it's probably not a nematode, but it's a nice disturbing name for something equally disturbing in appearance. The most mind-boggling thing of all is that most of these creatures are consumed raw and twitching.
I have a great deal of respect for any person that can consciously down any of these things... and keep it down. I, however, was not raised to have any sort of culinary appreciation for things for which I typically use the latin name. Oh, Chironex fleckeri? Sure, sure, great with a garlic and chili sauce. Not.
Beechna calls it heaven
Jeju Island is charming to say the least. I should stress the island because the natural surroundings are just stunning, with bristly pine trees studding the snowy slopes of a 7000 foot volcano, curtain like waterfalls spilling over black basaltic precipices, beaches with sand that's a hundred different colors. Somebody decided to plant palm trees all around the coast, which is a very manicured look, but it doesn't really match the rest of the Jeju flora. There were places that I visited that could have been a banished piece of heaven.
For the most part though, the island was littered with some of the strangest, tackiest tourist traps that I have ever seen. There's a museum for practically everything, from chocolate to teddy bears to movies. Every one is trying to capitalize on some kind of topic and most of them do it by ignoring their beautiful natural surroundings and instead building either a sprawling theme park of something silly, or a big building filled with crap. Please excuse me, I was embittered by the "Chocolate Museum" which contained more McDonalds Happy Meal toys than actual 
chocolate. Ultimately, I did my best to avoid such destinations and instead opted to see the natural offerings of the island which was far more rewarding.
Jeju is famous for its citrus fruit, and with good reason. I had more delicious oranges on the island than all of the oranges I'd eaten in the U.S. combined. Even California navels paled in comparison to a sweet, over sized Hallabong. Typically I avoid oranges when I'm home because they're usually a labor intensive 
disappointment. These oranges bordered on having instant aphrodisiac qualities (read: orgasmic). When I am in Korea next winter, I will be sure to stock up on these.
After being carted around the island for two days, pressured to choose as many attractions to visit as humanly possible, the best experience I had of all was happening upon the return of a fishing boat. We'd been eating at a restaurant just up the beach and I spotted the boat coming in. Jeong Ha who was with me decided 
that we were going to run to it and meet the diver women that disembarked with their catch. The scene was a flurry of nets, wet suit clad middle aged Korean women, writhing octopus, doomed red starfish and hungry customers. Jeong Ha entered a bidding war over a mollusk the size of a slice of bread. She bid 25 bucks, but the creature went for nearly 100.
I appreciated this experience because it was simply Korea. Not hyped up or marketed or costing money. It was people doing something I'd never seen anywhere else... women no less, divers who spear fished and wrassled octopus onto long hooks and held their breath for unspeakable amounts of time. I felt like I was privy to some secret Korean experience, something most foreigners aren't allowed to see and it was special. I tried to explain to my hosts, but they were ultimately a bit confused. How could I find so much joy in something that was so pedestrian to them?
Regardless, it was the perfect way to cap the final day of my Jeju island stay.
I'll wrap up my Korean trip soon, I promise!
Tempurpaedic, I miss you so!
It's 4:40 am and I am sleepless on one of these spiffy heated Korean floors. On one hand, yes! Spiffy! On the other hand... sleeping on the floor is not something I am accustomed to.
We arrived in Pyeongchang two nights ago. I was weary, presumably from a combination of three things: jetlag (still!), my chaotic schedule and as a group our erratic bedtimes (we'd stayed up until 3 on two occasions just talking). We are staying here in an apartment next to the Pheonix Park ski slopes. I was pretty excited upon arrival, "Woo, bedtime!". They showed me my room, I opened the door and then doubletaked. It was a good sized room, but completely devoid of furniture save for something that looks like a coffee table (but probably isn't... we're in Korea!)
"Uhhh... where is my bed?" They searched around for a minute but found bedding in a closet. The sleep pads were folded up, and there were comforters and fluffy pillows. It dawned on me that, yes, I was in Korea. Koreans like the floor. Rather than use their posh Ostrich leather chairs in their apartment in Bundang, the Lee family liked to sprawl out on the heated wooden floors. I could do that, but not all night.
Thus I laid down on what is arguably, the firmest mattress my wimpy, spoiled backside had ever experienced (I've camped on softer ground) and attempted to sleep.
I managed a full night's sleep although here I am, night two and I'm awake at 4:30 am. Probably had something to do with the fact that I went to sleep around 7 pm.
Ugly snow and child magnetism
And now... skiing. We'd rented skis for myself and Jeong Ha, Beechna's older cousin. She's 35 year old Korean opera singer actually. I think it must be the off season. Also appears to act as Beechna and Jae Hyouk's housekeeper some of the time. The skis I have are new, but are the heaviest skis I think I have ever encountered. Wood core, perhaps? They make me crave my weenie little 140's back at home.
In the morning, when I could actually see the mountain, we went out and scoped it out. The snow here is white and gray. The gray is just filth that apparently gets mixed in when they make snow. I don't know... Whiteface can manage to make snow without spewing dirt out of their snow cannons. The slopes looked icy and as such, I was pretty apprehensive. Icy slopes had been the undoing of my anterior cruciate ligament back in March 2000. I didn't want a repeat in March 2008.
As it turns out, what appeared to be ice was pure slush. I skied on some pretty easy trails. This week there's a ski camp here, so the lift lines were littered with 6-10 year old Korean kids. In spite of their lack of knowledge of any English whatsoever, I showed them how to sidestep up the slope to the lift lines and they gratefully chattered away in Korean. The older kids would deliberately ski over to present me their best "hello". I think it's safe to say that of the 300 or so people at Pheonix Park, I was the only native English speaker. Or Western person.
I am tested at every meal...
And probably fail miserably. Koreans eat things that many of your minds cannot even fathom. Fish spawn, for instance. Little veiny nuggets of fish spawn. I am not that brave. At lunch yesterday I was offered a spicy casserole containing cow intestine and tripe. Jae Hyouk said, "It's very expensive in Korea, and delicious!" My saving grace had been that they'd ordered two entrees and the other one was a soup with ramen, glass noodles, kimchi and-- wait for it-- spam! Koreans love the spam. It works, somehow. So I'd dodged the cow organ bullet, but with a minimal amount of grace. I would eat dog meat over strange animal organs, frankly.
Also! We were watching the Korean "Food Network" the other day and they had a segment on how they eat Sea Cucumbers. Jeong Ha was telling me about how delicious it was, but looking at it made me want to spew everywhere. How anybody could conceive of eating that is beyond me. They seem to have an attraction to finding the strangest sea creature in the Yellow Sea or Sea of Japan and then consuming it raw. Oh my god.
Sungsoon (the mom) is going to try to get me a job teaching public school at Beechna's old elementary school in Gangnam. There are four months of vacation each year and the pay is better than at academies. Apparently Korean mothers prefer American females as their teachers and with my teaching experience, I am apparently a hot commodity. Gangnam is not at the top of places I'd like to live... it's part of Seoul and Seoul is tight, noisy and polluted. Sungsoon said though that I could live in Bundang and commute by bus or train very easily. Maybe it's a possibility after all.
Anyway, I should probably try to get some sleep.
Toodloo!
I've been here for quite some time and amidst the over-scheduled chaos... I've found little time to communicate with others let alone craft a meticulously written blog.
Allow me to summarize my first five days here. Private chauffeur! 5 star hotel with a toilet that cleans my rear for me-- that's right. Incredible breakfast buffet-- huzzah Korean food. Accidentally eating spicy fermented octopus. Lotte World the amusement park. Frightening first impressions of Korea because of it. Giant fruit basket. Fancy haute couture department stores. Crazy crazy crazy grocery stores. (I have a video of it I'll upload eventually). annnnnnd this brings me to the Bath House, the meat and potatoes of my entry.
The Jimjilbang: Adventures in a Korean Sauna
Two days ago, around 8 pm after a deliciously satisfying jet-lag induced nap, I went off to experience the famed Jimjilbang, a traditional Korean bath house.We arrived and immediately took off our shoes (I keep forgetting and walk somewhere I'm not supposed to and I'm automatically met with a chorus of protests from Beechna and her mom and anyone else present). They gave us this doofy pink t-shirt/shorts combo.
Part 1. The actual Jimjilbang
Once we were dressed we went downstairs to the Jimjilbang. It's equivalent to a Korean day spa, except the whole experience only costs 8 buckeroos. There's a few snack bars, places to get your nails done, reflexology, an arcade (??? really?), henna tattoos , etc etc. TV's everywhere for your entertainment while you're relaxing. I'd rather relax to my ipod... I will remember that for next time. Korean television can be best described as... boisterous.
Anyway, there are these different rooms heated from the floor up. They have a temperature reading above the doors so you can decide how hot you want to go. We started fairly gentle and went into a 54˚ C room with smooth quartz crystal tile floors. You lay on the hot floor and put your head on this wooden head shaped block and veg to the TV or something. I fell asleep in this room. It was way cozy.
After a bit Beechna asked if I wanted it hotter. I went into the 79˚C room. This room had the same smooth tiles but they were covered with wicker mats so you wouldn't burn your skin. A better effect when it comes to sweatiness, but this is a dry sauna so to speak so I need HOT. Eventually, Beechna asked if I wanted to see the hottest. Naturally, I did. This one was shaped a bit like a giant ceramic beehive. You had to crawl in through something that closely resembled an oven door and you sat on this mound of burlap mats in dome of dark volcanic stone. It was a toasty 108˚C. I managed to sit there for 10 minutes. It was the kind of hot where you could instantly feel the sweat just pour out of your skin. The kind of hot where your lips are on fire and you feel like you can't breathe (but you can! it's a trick!). I loved it! Beechna couldn't handle more than 30 seconds though. We then went straight to the room that was -7˚C where we cooled our feet and sat against icy refrigerated pipes.
Once your body is cool you are supposed to walk on top of these bumpy, even sharp, stone mosaic walkways. Some are sharper than others. They promote circulation, better health and intense pain. My favorite room though was the room where the floor was covered in about 8 inches of smooth small quartz pebbles. Your feet sink into the hot little stones and then you lay on it and it conforms to your body. It was astonishingly comfortable. We must have stayed in there for 30 minutes.That was the Jimjilbang part of the spa experience.
Part 2. The "Sauna"
The three of us ladies stripped down and walked into the bath room (not bathroom, bath room). There are rows of open showers, showers where you sit on a little wooden stool and scrub the crap out of yourself and several different pools of... I don't even know what. Somehow, I found myself steeping in a giant, bubbling vat of Green Tea. It was maybe 42˚C at best. Nothing astonishing. The other baths were a variety of colors and temperatures. I didn't feel like swimming around in the 18˚C tub for obvious reasons.
I'm fairly positive that I was being scoped out constantly because, shit, who had ever seen anyone with red hair before? Or fair skin like mine?
Sungsoon then asked me if I wanted a massage. I'd watched this process from my Green Tea bath in wonderment. A bunch of naked Korean women were scrubbing other Korean women vigorously all over. I was intrigued. Ladies if you've ever been to a gynecologist, or gotten a bikini wax and have felt... apprehensive... this will surely cure you. I opted for the massage.The whole procedure takes place in a tiled area with a drain so they can slosh giant buckets of warm water over your body during the process. I laid down on a pink plastic cushy bench.
The Korean lady scrubbed the shit out of my skin, exfoliating for at least 30 minutes. It hurt but I knew it would be worth it. She talked to me in Korean the whole time, talked about my hair. Tried to tell me it was brown (it looks brown when wet) and I insisted it was red red red. (She later saw the truth!)
Next. Oh oh oh. She takes face towels, dips them in scalding water and then lays them all over my body! WTF! ow! Then, she kneads the boiling towels into my skin/muscles! But it felt amazing somehow! Oh also the slapping! She slapped my skin a lot, presumably for circulation. There are no secrets in the Korean bath house. None. She kept getting me to turn this way and that, moving me about as she needed. It was quite the trick not to fly off of the wet plastic bench.
Then she cleaned my face multiple times and then covered it in pureed cucumber and wrapped it in a hot towel. While my face was bundled she completely doused me in some kind of lavender smelling oil (I mean drenched me) and gave me more uncomfortably deep massaging.
Some of it is a blur. I was told to get up and shower off a few times during. She washed and conditioned my hair, massaged my face, gave me a bit of a pedicure too. It took about 2 hours. I have never felt so clean in my entire life. Haha it was funny to get slapped like that. Also! The whole procedure cost 85 bucks! You can get the 30 minute exfoliation for 15! It's amazing how much all that costs in the US by comparison.
Needless to say, it's awesome. I loved it. I feel healthy and refreshed and I can't wait to go again!
Until next time... with pictures I hope!
Monday, I sent the L'Arrivée guitar back to Dad.
Today, Thursday, I moseyed on over to my long neglected Myspace music site and listened to my tunes. The regret descended upon me, the way the 2000 lb anvils often descend upon Wyle E. Coyote.
It's true, I've mostly forsaken my little hobby, with the exception of my recently having learned to play the perennial favorite "500 Miles" by the Proclaimers and "Such Great Heights" by The Postal Service. And some others, mostly on request. The creative well-spring is bone dry and has been since ohhhhh April 2007. That's a long time.
The clincher is that I never finished what I consider to be my finest song yet, "Inertia". It's half recorded although completely written. I've tried recording it in full but I can't seem to match the tone and awesomeness of the sample and that's frustrating to no end.
It's a bit of a time issue. I just don't have the energy or room in my schedule to do multiple multiple takes on one song. I used to be satisfied with so little and now my expect
ations are up. My songs were getting better and better and I wanted more moar MOAR!
It's not to say that I don't have a guitar. I have my beloved Baby Taylor pictured above. For recording however, it's just not the best. Then again, I'm not sure I've recorded with it since I got a good mic and an audio interface.
So what will it be friends? Do I abandon my hobby? Do I try to squeeze out some more songs? Inspiration is running low these days (I only really ever write when I'm exploding with sadness-- I don't manage that emotion as well as I do happy), but I suppose I could try really really hard.
I want to get better. I want to write more exciting songs. I just don't know if I have it in me.
In 17 days I'll be in Asia for the very first time.
As such, I've been discussing this with the student who will be hosting me. I've entrusted her with navigating me through the annals of Korean culture and told her I'd try to experience as much as possible before I move there.
Her response?
I will be eating this:
Click!
Naturally, I asked some other Korean students about it. I polled them on whether they'd eaten it. Most of them had.
The responses:
My advisee: *cringes* "I don't like it, but maybe you will. It's so chewy. And weird."
later...
My advisee's brother: "Oh, that's gooood. I like it, you know? You must chew fast and hard."
Me: "So it doesn't move in my mouth?"
Advisee's brother: "Yeah, yeah, exactly."
*shudder*
Now that I am sure she will take advantage of my intrepid nature, I am a bit apprehensive.
Cooked octopus? Absolutely. Bring it. I'd love to eat a cunning hunter like that and wait and see if it increases my IQ.
Octopus still squirming on my plate, however? "Aniyo" (Korean for 'no', which for this situation, appropriately rhymes with the English expression, "F**k no!")
I am excited about the food. Truly. I have this preconceived notion that I'll eat and enjoy everything, which may not be the case. Some of their dishes are mind numbingly spicy and while my mouth can manhandle the hot, I am not so sure about my stomach. My stomach may be cursing my taste buds all the way to the toilet. What's worse is that I may not be able to find antacids with ease. I should probably bring some with me.
The other week in school, the kids in my house and I had an unofficial Korean ramen eating contest. 
A couple of each made a packet of super spicy Shin Ramyeon and sat down slurping. We went by who could sweat the least. It was great, not only because I won this contest by not sweating at all, but also because the one Korean participant lost.
Ha!
Maybe I'll fare eating the fare just fine after all.
Well, it's the time of year again and I'm caught between all that love Valentine's day for all that it represents, those that are disgusted by the commercialism-- the "UNvalentine's Day" camp, those that celebrate Single Person Awareness day and all the other exhausted parents and 'parents' (in my case) of the world.
Tonight was our school Valentine's Day shindig. Cards were exchanged. Kids paired off. Adults flooded the kids' dance floor with horrifying moves and impressions of the giddy children. Ping pong was played.
The adults sat with other adults tonight so the kids could have some semblance of privacy for a bit. It came as no surprise that I sat at the dinner table spending most of the meal crafting clever sentences out of Necco conversation hearts for a friend. This of course is a new phenomenon. I never before realized that Necco had created hearts with the word AND on it for its value as a conjunction. I suppose I envisioned it as a snarky way to spurn a suitor's plea.
"Oh Larissa, I'd do anything for you! I'd climb mountains! I'd cross oceans!"
"...And?"
Well, anyway. Soon enough, I'd found a heart that said TO. And there you have it. Once the meal finished, my place setting transformed into this:
I pooled hearts from other tables and began to create.
I think my favorite expression from the hearts is definitely MAN MAN. Hot. That's my new pick up line. Let's kiss and bear hug and smile, Man Man. What red blooded male could resist such verbal stimulus?
There's a fiesty one.
I exhausted all amusing possibilities after this. If Necco thinks that AND and TO were enough to satisfy the conjunction and preposition needs of this sentence crafting enterprise, they are quite mistaken. Not real big on the verb collection either. ASK ME, SWEET TALK, CALL ME, DREAM and LOVE just aren't going to cut it.
So I turned to design. This was not as exciting but I did it nonetheless. The other option was to shake my booty to Soulja Boy in the other room. I'm sure the children were sorely disappointed. Sorely.
Admire my artistry.
The candy heart lobster being my crowning achievement, the pinnacle of my career, I chose to retire and hang with the cool young teachers.
It wasn't long before my boss strolled by almost too casually and rolled an oversized pair of die onto the table before us.
"Let's wrestle"
"In the closet"
Cue shock and horror and squeals of delight. He then informed us that he'd confiscated them from an 8th grader this morning.
"Let's do it"
"On a chair"
Hahaha.
It's never the girls, you see.
Something... something is driving boys to modify their eyebrows. It's not necessarily those sporting a good old fashioned unibrow. Usually those kids are painfully UNaware of how 'singular' their brows have become in the past few pubescent years.
Is it the increasing prevalence of male sissification? Is it curiosity? Is it an obsessive compulsive need for facial symmetry? A few years ago the very same thing happened. Perhaps they were subconsciously inspired.
Last week, a boy in 9th grade-- a 15 year old boy, decided that his eyebrows were... a bit off. Off enough that he wanted to take his electric razor (note not clippers-- not that that would have been much better) to them. I must add that his eyebrows were fine. In fact they are probably one of his most essential assets as he is quite the comedian. According to his houseparent, he accidentally shaved 2/3 of one eyebrow off.
Now I've been known to be a klutz from time to time, but what kind of convulsion would it take to shave off two thirds of one brow? Maybe secretly, he wanted to. I wouldn't put it past him.
After the first slip, he decided that since his original goal was symmetry, he'd best shave the other brow to match, ultimately resulting in two little tufts of hair toward the center of his face. Hahaha.
A quote from the houseparent's winning e-mail on the matter: "So, whatever random stories may be passed around (and yes, *insert name here* did attempt to make them symmetrical, to no avail, since symmetrical tufts of hair are still smalln random tufts, no matter how even they may be)"
Ultimately, the student decided to shave them off entirely.
The good news? There is absolutely no possibility of his eyebrows becoming infested with lice.