Christina Catzoela Is an Awesome Attorney
I had the privilege of meeting her in law school and becoming close friends with her when we worked together.
When she was a junior associate, she tried to help the customer of one of her law firm's clients.
She was rewarded with praise in a letter written by the customer.
Unfortunately, because the remainder of the letter was full of complaints, and it was posted to a complaints board, her name is now associated with a search result link whose title gives the opposite impression. If you read the letter, you will see that despite the author's negative opinions of the remainder of the treatment they received, they had nothing but good things to say about Ms. Catzoela.
This post serves two purposes: (1) to attempt to inject some additional explanation and positive mojo into Ms. Catzoela's Google juice. (2) to observe the effect, if any, a single blog post by me can have on a fairly low-volume search term in Google's results.
Update: Cool! Google apparently just slurps blogger posts straight into the index. Instant gratification!
March 27, 2011
Lake Sammamish Half
Vegetable udon soup may be my new pre-race meal, and the leftovers with extra sauteed udon were even better than the original (the mushroom flavor soaked into the broth and the added fat made it much more delicious). Healthy, hearty, but light.
A good night's sleep and an easy wake-up made me feel like this was going to be a good race.
I conned E into driving me to the start, which was awesome, since the course is one-way and the last bus was much too early for my taste.
We walked down to the Starbucks in our building, caffeinated, and we were off. Only problem was, Google maps decided to give us directions to the finish, not the start. Apparently, "Lake Sammamish" will give you directions to the Marymoor park, not Lake Sammamish State Park. They are both on the lake, but Google decided it knew best without informing me and by the time we figured it out, we were a 20 minute drive from the start (and we needed gas).
By the time we arrived, the centipede of runners was snaking away from the start and I had to run against them to try to get my chip activated. I finally turned the corner to see the start archway deflating.
Oh, well. I turned around, now the last person in the centipede and tried to make the best of it. My initial miles were on pace for my hoped for goal of breaking 2 hours. Unfortunately, around mile 6, I bonked and just couldn't keep that pace anymore. So, I did the best I could and completed 12.49 (I lost a bit of distance in the beginning madness) at the fastest pace I've in run a race in 2 years.
All in all, it was a great day. The weather held perfectly cool without raining. I pushed myself physically and found that yes, I am regaining my former fitness level, but, I still have a ways to go.
Vegetable Udon Soup
3 garlic cloves, chopped
1 tsp ginger, chopped
Olive Oil
1/2 lb mushrooms, sliced
3-4 carrots, chopped into rounds
bunch of chives, chopped
1 small head of radicchio, chopped
2 blocks of frozen udon
Somen soup base
broth
chili paste
Night 1: Sautée ginger and garlic in olive oil on high until garlic starts to brown. Add carrots and stir. Add 2-4 cups broth, some somen base and water and bring to a boil. Add mushrooms and radicchio and simmer for 10 minutes. Add chives and 1 block of frozen udon, simmer for a few minutes until the udon is cooked through. Taste broth and add somen base if not flavorful enough. Serve with chili sauce as a garnish.
Night 2: heat leftovers in the microwave and sauté udon in olive oil and a tsp of somen soup base. Add sautéed noodles to re-heated broth and enjoy!
Vegetable udon soup may be my new pre-race meal, and the leftovers with extra sauteed udon were even better than the original (the mushroom flavor soaked into the broth and the added fat made it much more delicious). Healthy, hearty, but light.
A good night's sleep and an easy wake-up made me feel like this was going to be a good race.
I conned E into driving me to the start, which was awesome, since the course is one-way and the last bus was much too early for my taste.
We walked down to the Starbucks in our building, caffeinated, and we were off. Only problem was, Google maps decided to give us directions to the finish, not the start. Apparently, "Lake Sammamish" will give you directions to the Marymoor park, not Lake Sammamish State Park. They are both on the lake, but Google decided it knew best without informing me and by the time we figured it out, we were a 20 minute drive from the start (and we needed gas).
By the time we arrived, the centipede of runners was snaking away from the start and I had to run against them to try to get my chip activated. I finally turned the corner to see the start archway deflating.
Oh, well. I turned around, now the last person in the centipede and tried to make the best of it. My initial miles were on pace for my hoped for goal of breaking 2 hours. Unfortunately, around mile 6, I bonked and just couldn't keep that pace anymore. So, I did the best I could and completed 12.49 (I lost a bit of distance in the beginning madness) at the fastest pace I've in run a race in 2 years.
All in all, it was a great day. The weather held perfectly cool without raining. I pushed myself physically and found that yes, I am regaining my former fitness level, but, I still have a ways to go.
Vegetable Udon Soup
3 garlic cloves, chopped
1 tsp ginger, chopped
Olive Oil
1/2 lb mushrooms, sliced
3-4 carrots, chopped into rounds
bunch of chives, chopped
1 small head of radicchio, chopped
2 blocks of frozen udon
Somen soup base
broth
chili paste
Night 1: Sautée ginger and garlic in olive oil on high until garlic starts to brown. Add carrots and stir. Add 2-4 cups broth, some somen base and water and bring to a boil. Add mushrooms and radicchio and simmer for 10 minutes. Add chives and 1 block of frozen udon, simmer for a few minutes until the udon is cooked through. Taste broth and add somen base if not flavorful enough. Serve with chili sauce as a garnish.
Night 2: heat leftovers in the microwave and sauté udon in olive oil and a tsp of somen soup base. Add sautéed noodles to re-heated broth and enjoy!
March 26, 2011
Can I have a Back-Up Camp?
When I informed her that I'd found a lego-mania camp for her summer visit, my almost not but thankfully still child-niece, sweet juvenile meaning-giving love of my live, asked me innocently, "Can we have a back-up camp?"
Perhaps this had something to do with last summer, when I sold the idea of lego-mania camp in May, only to call and find out that they all were booked, and then I booked her for gymnastics and rock-climbing camp (which was run by a former college gymnast colleague of mine and she appreciated and attacked with appropriate vigor).
If we are honest, her request may also be attached to my sale of "space camp" the year prior, only to learn it was no longer a local option at Moffett Field despite the signs on the road when you exited the 101, but rather, the camp was only in Alabama.
Regardless, the phone call, when you say, "I've got 8/1 (August 1) marked off for you to come and stay with us for lego camp," and she says, "Uhhh... ummm... if that doesn't work, can I have a back-up camp to go to pottery camp? And, I think I may have schoool..."
And I realize -- Oh shit: Last year. Your dad was paralyzed and you were dealing with it. You, a child, learned to think about things that are out of your control. We didn't get around to putting you in the lego camp we promised. You ended up in rock climbing camp and gymnastics camp. That would have been my heaven, by you are taller and less bendy, and more social and creative. You, adorably polite, never let us know, but you probably wished it were lego camp every day (which had been fully booked by the time we managed to schedule it... not this year, captain lego-mania!)
In short, NO. You may not have a back-up camp. Lego-mania is booked for you, my dear. And we are excited to have you as our guest. (Also, we'll go to color me mine with friends, so if anyone is interested, let us know.).
When I informed her that I'd found a lego-mania camp for her summer visit, my almost not but thankfully still child-niece, sweet juvenile meaning-giving love of my live, asked me innocently, "Can we have a back-up camp?"
Perhaps this had something to do with last summer, when I sold the idea of lego-mania camp in May, only to call and find out that they all were booked, and then I booked her for gymnastics and rock-climbing camp (which was run by a former college gymnast colleague of mine and she appreciated and attacked with appropriate vigor).
If we are honest, her request may also be attached to my sale of "space camp" the year prior, only to learn it was no longer a local option at Moffett Field despite the signs on the road when you exited the 101, but rather, the camp was only in Alabama.
Regardless, the phone call, when you say, "I've got 8/1 (August 1) marked off for you to come and stay with us for lego camp," and she says, "Uhhh... ummm... if that doesn't work, can I have a back-up camp to go to pottery camp? And, I think I may have schoool..."
And I realize -- Oh shit: Last year. Your dad was paralyzed and you were dealing with it. You, a child, learned to think about things that are out of your control. We didn't get around to putting you in the lego camp we promised. You ended up in rock climbing camp and gymnastics camp. That would have been my heaven, by you are taller and less bendy, and more social and creative. You, adorably polite, never let us know, but you probably wished it were lego camp every day (which had been fully booked by the time we managed to schedule it... not this year, captain lego-mania!)
In short, NO. You may not have a back-up camp. Lego-mania is booked for you, my dear. And we are excited to have you as our guest. (Also, we'll go to color me mine with friends, so if anyone is interested, let us know.).
March 20, 2011
Rollin'
Thanks to the commitment of Z and our joint registration many months ago, I completed my first half marathon in 9 months (and my 20th ever) today. It was even more important because it was the first half I *ran* since November 2009 as my last completed effort was a 3-hour run-walk to support a friend in her first (and post-pregnancy) half marathon.
Apparently, Z sent our weather down to the Los Angelese Marathon where hundreds were checked for hypothermia (and Ethiopians won both categories. Yay for underdogs!). The hypothermia concern is interesting to me, since the LA Marathon was merely 60F and rain, while we, up in the Seattle area literally cheered on command at the start to celebrate the first clear day of spring weather of sun and 45F and the only concern you might have heard was whether hands were too cold. I guess acclimatization is a much stronger force than I realized. Certainly, I have become much better at running in the cold since moving here. At least once or twice a week, I head out without hesitation between guaranteed rain in search of good weather that even if it holds would have been enough to keep me home in California.
So, here I am, in Washington, training for my first marathon in 2 years, 10 months, and I'm almost a year and half after running my last half. I gleefully finished today's half 5 minutes slower than my last real effort. Not so much slower that I felt bad, but enough to encourage me to work harder.
Overall, it was a perfect re-entry to racing. Doing it with a friend who flew up for a multi-day visit and who used to live here? Awesome. She directed us to delicious restaurants, asian bakeries, grocery stores (yay Uwajimaya), and cute neighborhoods we should check out. Also, magically, she brought fairytale weather for her visit so that we could enjoy a perfect day today for the Mercer Island Half. After an early Saturday night, we woke to sunshine and clear skies, which was important since the views of the lake and the snow-capped mountains behind the Seattle skyline were necessary to distract us from the hilly course.
Note: Just because a course is along a shoreline does not mean it is without hills. Particularly on an island (where obviously something is pushing it out of the water!). On the other hand, my ignorance of the elevation changes made today an awesome hilly training run for next weekend's small and supposedly flat along-the-lake race, where I'm hoping to test my fitness.
As for that marathon -- I'm registered and it's 10 weeks out. Wow. That's soon. Wish me luck!
Thanks to the commitment of Z and our joint registration many months ago, I completed my first half marathon in 9 months (and my 20th ever) today. It was even more important because it was the first half I *ran* since November 2009 as my last completed effort was a 3-hour run-walk to support a friend in her first (and post-pregnancy) half marathon.
Apparently, Z sent our weather down to the Los Angelese Marathon where hundreds were checked for hypothermia (and Ethiopians won both categories. Yay for underdogs!). The hypothermia concern is interesting to me, since the LA Marathon was merely 60F and rain, while we, up in the Seattle area literally cheered on command at the start to celebrate the first clear day of spring weather of sun and 45F and the only concern you might have heard was whether hands were too cold. I guess acclimatization is a much stronger force than I realized. Certainly, I have become much better at running in the cold since moving here. At least once or twice a week, I head out without hesitation between guaranteed rain in search of good weather that even if it holds would have been enough to keep me home in California.
So, here I am, in Washington, training for my first marathon in 2 years, 10 months, and I'm almost a year and half after running my last half. I gleefully finished today's half 5 minutes slower than my last real effort. Not so much slower that I felt bad, but enough to encourage me to work harder.
Overall, it was a perfect re-entry to racing. Doing it with a friend who flew up for a multi-day visit and who used to live here? Awesome. She directed us to delicious restaurants, asian bakeries, grocery stores (yay Uwajimaya), and cute neighborhoods we should check out. Also, magically, she brought fairytale weather for her visit so that we could enjoy a perfect day today for the Mercer Island Half. After an early Saturday night, we woke to sunshine and clear skies, which was important since the views of the lake and the snow-capped mountains behind the Seattle skyline were necessary to distract us from the hilly course.
Note: Just because a course is along a shoreline does not mean it is without hills. Particularly on an island (where obviously something is pushing it out of the water!). On the other hand, my ignorance of the elevation changes made today an awesome hilly training run for next weekend's small and supposedly flat along-the-lake race, where I'm hoping to test my fitness.
As for that marathon -- I'm registered and it's 10 weeks out. Wow. That's soon. Wish me luck!
March 19, 2011
Bump on a Log
When we were being lazy or not moving fast enough, my dad used to say, "Don't just sit there like a bump on a log."
This saying annoyed the hell out of me when I was a kid.
So, Imagine my surprise to find that it's slipped out of my mouth a few times this week.
I used to think this saying was corny. For some reason it reminded me of the farm where my dad grew up. Perhaps because I'd heard my grandfather (papa) say it as well, and he lived on the farm until he died. I think I used to think it was provincial. Unsophisticated.
This week, when I've used it, I've been thoroughly amused. The first time, I thought, "Woah brain, way to dig deep back in time!" The second time, I smiled and thought, "Yeah, actually, he does physically resemble a bump on a log on that couch." And, the third time, last night, I mentally pictured a woodpile full of oak rounds, many of them with individual bumps and smiled at the appropriateness of the simile.
And, of course, every time I say it, I feel close to my father and his extended family.
So, if I start sounding more and more like a country bumpkin hick seed from the sticks, you can recall that it all started with a bump on a log.
When we were being lazy or not moving fast enough, my dad used to say, "Don't just sit there like a bump on a log."
This saying annoyed the hell out of me when I was a kid.
So, Imagine my surprise to find that it's slipped out of my mouth a few times this week.
I used to think this saying was corny. For some reason it reminded me of the farm where my dad grew up. Perhaps because I'd heard my grandfather (papa) say it as well, and he lived on the farm until he died. I think I used to think it was provincial. Unsophisticated.
This week, when I've used it, I've been thoroughly amused. The first time, I thought, "Woah brain, way to dig deep back in time!" The second time, I smiled and thought, "Yeah, actually, he does physically resemble a bump on a log on that couch." And, the third time, last night, I mentally pictured a woodpile full of oak rounds, many of them with individual bumps and smiled at the appropriateness of the simile.
And, of course, every time I say it, I feel close to my father and his extended family.
So, if I start sounding more and more like a country bumpkin hick seed from the sticks, you can recall that it all started with a bump on a log.
March 8, 2011
Fast and Focused
2011 is flying by.
There's never enough time to do everything, but the temporary move has helped me change my priorities.
I'm nowhere near on-track for my 30 book challenge -- I haven't even finished the first book I started this year! I do love reading, but it's just not as important as many of the items that get my time lately.
I told myself that 2011 would be the year I finally got back into running shape and I seem to be committed (at the expense of books, clearly). I'm more or less in sync with my running goals, especially if you count last weekend's downhill skiing at elevation as acceptable cross-training instead of weekend long runs. I guess I'll find out when I head out for a 12 mile Saturday run with Z (who's flying up to join me for for my first half marathon this year!) followed by a 10 mile Sunday run through the Sierra Nevada foothills.
Work is busy for both E and me. Since we both work for ourselves, this is a good thing. We never have trouble making time for work a priority. On the other hand, it's hard to leave work at work when you work from the kitchen table of a rented apartment in a city away from your home.
By moving, we've eliminated the casual daily social interruptions, like business lunches or evenings/weekends outings with friends. Instead, our social life is much more dense but only in bursts. When I'm in California, I jam pack my schedule full of visits with clients, friends, and family as well as events -- but it's a limited time and I can only see those who have time to see me when I'm available.
In Washington, I'm basically free of social obligations except for time dedicated to people who made the effort to travel to see me and a few scattered friends who, because they live in WA, are not a daily part of my life. Over time, of course, if we were to stay here for longer, this would change. No doubt we'd develop a new social fabric in WA and slowly drift away from the California network. But, since we are so busy and we are only here temporarily, it's very easy to just focus on ourselves.
Between our travels and visits from family and friends (which clearly have been made a priority by everyone involved), we're living simply -- walking everywhere we can, eating healthy, enjoying lazy weekends without any obligations, basically, just enjoying being married to one another and building our businesses without too much external social interaction. It's interesting how easy it is to do this here, whereas at home it would probably feel unbalanced since it would be at the expense of all of the normal things we are used to doing.
Despite the WA social break (or perhaps because of it), this year is shaping up to be quite intense on both the social and the travel front. We already did South America and Whistler, and it doesn't look like we're going to slow down very much for the rest of the year.
Between almost weekly flights back to the Bay Area by me for the next 3 months, visits from family and friends, 3 weddings to attend (and all of the associated events for the two that involve family-like friends), training for and running a memorial day marathon in Idaho followed by a road trip through Yellowstone and a drive back to California, the incoming niece and nephew we are expecting (within 1 month of each other!) and visits to meet them, a half business/half pleasure 3 week trip to Europe, the annual week-long visit from my oldest neice to attend summer camp, and, holiday travel for Thanksgiving and Christmas, it looks like our entire year is spoken for.
Oh, also, back in California, we need to get a new roof, fumigate the house, and we keep going back and forth about the kitchen remodel.
Off to run!
2011 is flying by.
There's never enough time to do everything, but the temporary move has helped me change my priorities.
I'm nowhere near on-track for my 30 book challenge -- I haven't even finished the first book I started this year! I do love reading, but it's just not as important as many of the items that get my time lately.
I told myself that 2011 would be the year I finally got back into running shape and I seem to be committed (at the expense of books, clearly). I'm more or less in sync with my running goals, especially if you count last weekend's downhill skiing at elevation as acceptable cross-training instead of weekend long runs. I guess I'll find out when I head out for a 12 mile Saturday run with Z (who's flying up to join me for for my first half marathon this year!) followed by a 10 mile Sunday run through the Sierra Nevada foothills.
Work is busy for both E and me. Since we both work for ourselves, this is a good thing. We never have trouble making time for work a priority. On the other hand, it's hard to leave work at work when you work from the kitchen table of a rented apartment in a city away from your home.
By moving, we've eliminated the casual daily social interruptions, like business lunches or evenings/weekends outings with friends. Instead, our social life is much more dense but only in bursts. When I'm in California, I jam pack my schedule full of visits with clients, friends, and family as well as events -- but it's a limited time and I can only see those who have time to see me when I'm available.
In Washington, I'm basically free of social obligations except for time dedicated to people who made the effort to travel to see me and a few scattered friends who, because they live in WA, are not a daily part of my life. Over time, of course, if we were to stay here for longer, this would change. No doubt we'd develop a new social fabric in WA and slowly drift away from the California network. But, since we are so busy and we are only here temporarily, it's very easy to just focus on ourselves.
Between our travels and visits from family and friends (which clearly have been made a priority by everyone involved), we're living simply -- walking everywhere we can, eating healthy, enjoying lazy weekends without any obligations, basically, just enjoying being married to one another and building our businesses without too much external social interaction. It's interesting how easy it is to do this here, whereas at home it would probably feel unbalanced since it would be at the expense of all of the normal things we are used to doing.
Despite the WA social break (or perhaps because of it), this year is shaping up to be quite intense on both the social and the travel front. We already did South America and Whistler, and it doesn't look like we're going to slow down very much for the rest of the year.
Between almost weekly flights back to the Bay Area by me for the next 3 months, visits from family and friends, 3 weddings to attend (and all of the associated events for the two that involve family-like friends), training for and running a memorial day marathon in Idaho followed by a road trip through Yellowstone and a drive back to California, the incoming niece and nephew we are expecting (within 1 month of each other!) and visits to meet them, a half business/half pleasure 3 week trip to Europe, the annual week-long visit from my oldest neice to attend summer camp, and, holiday travel for Thanksgiving and Christmas, it looks like our entire year is spoken for.
Oh, also, back in California, we need to get a new roof, fumigate the house, and we keep going back and forth about the kitchen remodel.
Off to run!
February 23, 2011
Snow is Better than Rain
So, after two full nights in our new (temporary) home in Bellevue, WA, I feel qualified to state that snow is much better than rain.
Snow bounces off of your jacket and you stay dry whereas rain does not bounce and makes you wet.
Snow is quieter than rain but it muffles outside sounds equally well (or perhaps even better?).
Snow is more picturesque than rain, especially when viewed against a streetlight.
Catching snowflakes on your tongue is much more fun than drinking rain.
E and I are very much enjoying our shared introduction to the snow culture as part of life (as opposed to only a ski vacation and freak weather situation). For example, we both now know that snow sticks to idle cars first, then dirt, then grass, then, if it's cold enough, cement/asphalt.
Also, we had a great dinner tonight at Seastar, but we won't be back for dinner. Oh, hell no, it's within walking distance -- next time, we're going to maximize the happy hour for all it's worth!
So, after two full nights in our new (temporary) home in Bellevue, WA, I feel qualified to state that snow is much better than rain.
Snow bounces off of your jacket and you stay dry whereas rain does not bounce and makes you wet.
Snow is quieter than rain but it muffles outside sounds equally well (or perhaps even better?).
Snow is more picturesque than rain, especially when viewed against a streetlight.
Catching snowflakes on your tongue is much more fun than drinking rain.
E and I are very much enjoying our shared introduction to the snow culture as part of life (as opposed to only a ski vacation and freak weather situation). For example, we both now know that snow sticks to idle cars first, then dirt, then grass, then, if it's cold enough, cement/asphalt.
Also, we had a great dinner tonight at Seastar, but we won't be back for dinner. Oh, hell no, it's within walking distance -- next time, we're going to maximize the happy hour for all it's worth!
February 21, 2011
Leftovers
One of E's colleagues took us out to a Vietnamese dinner a couple of weeks ago.
These were half of the leftovers with which we were sent home:
Culturally, it was clear something was going on. The feast to feed 25 when there were 6 of us at the table? No idea what it was, but it was clearly something, culturally. I just tried to make it clear that we were very grateful and that we were enjoying ourselves (and I was -- it was the best Vietnamese meal I've ever had in my life, by an order of magnitude, even if I was stuffed before we were 1/3 through).
Bonus -- the leftovers made for a wonderful lunch and a great seafood soup base for dinner with a friend a few days later.
One of E's colleagues took us out to a Vietnamese dinner a couple of weeks ago.
These were half of the leftovers with which we were sent home:
Culturally, it was clear something was going on. The feast to feed 25 when there were 6 of us at the table? No idea what it was, but it was clearly something, culturally. I just tried to make it clear that we were very grateful and that we were enjoying ourselves (and I was -- it was the best Vietnamese meal I've ever had in my life, by an order of magnitude, even if I was stuffed before we were 1/3 through).
Bonus -- the leftovers made for a wonderful lunch and a great seafood soup base for dinner with a friend a few days later.
February 20, 2011
Northward Bound -- the friendliness increases
After a chaotic blitz through pouring rain on our way out of the bay area (car loaded with necessities for 3 months or so), we made it to the Sierra Nevada foothills north of Sacramento for a quick visit with family.
Dinner. Pictures. Catching up. Early sleep.
This morning, the skies were blue, the air was calm (and allergen free, post-rain) and I was able to do one of the best long runs I've done in years, from Lincoln, CA to Newcastle, CA.
This time of year, California is gorgeously green and fertile. The verdant hills were peppered with ewe, llamas, horses, and cows, which, along with the clear blue skies and foliage were a pleasant distraction from the shocking elevation changes (turns out, 10 miles around the San Francisco bay is a little less effort than 10 miles through the Foothills of Tahoe-Donner).
Typical for being out in the country, I found myself waiving hello and thankyou to all the huge pick-up trucks that felt it was necessary to pull to the middle of the road and straddle both lanes at least a mile before they came near me to let me know I was safe. Also, along my course, I waived hello to about 5 runners and gave one a high five. And, no doubt due to the amazing crisp weather and rolling elevation changes, it felt like I was passed and crossed paths with about 100 cyclists.
So, in short, my run was on track to be perfect, but I did need to stop for a pit stop and Gatorade. I'd hoped I could hit one of the general stores or, worst case scenario, a dive bar, along the route.
But, then, I turned the corner, and found Trailhead Coffee and Cycling Lounge, and I was filled with relief.
Runners are to cyclists like sisters are to brothers. And, much like the love you feel for a sibling, I knew with certitude I'd be welcome for a quick stop, even if I didn't have a bike or want any coffee.
As I expected, I was welcomed. I walked in, and before I could speak, the man behind the counter said, "Over there," pointing at the bathroom. I quickly walked past several middle-aged men in various stages of undress/lycra (most of whom had passed me on the way up the hill), smiled a thank you, and asked if they had Gatorade. It was on the counter waiting for me when I exited.
I paid, trying to avoid too long of a break in my run. While counting my change, between yelled exchanges with the various cyclists, the man running the show explained that I, like all runners, was always welcome to just come in and fill my water bottle there, get ice over there, and use the bathroom.
My only regret is that I didn't have my camera to take pictures on the run.
After a chaotic blitz through pouring rain on our way out of the bay area (car loaded with necessities for 3 months or so), we made it to the Sierra Nevada foothills north of Sacramento for a quick visit with family.
Dinner. Pictures. Catching up. Early sleep.
This morning, the skies were blue, the air was calm (and allergen free, post-rain) and I was able to do one of the best long runs I've done in years, from Lincoln, CA to Newcastle, CA.
This time of year, California is gorgeously green and fertile. The verdant hills were peppered with ewe, llamas, horses, and cows, which, along with the clear blue skies and foliage were a pleasant distraction from the shocking elevation changes (turns out, 10 miles around the San Francisco bay is a little less effort than 10 miles through the Foothills of Tahoe-Donner).
Typical for being out in the country, I found myself waiving hello and thankyou to all the huge pick-up trucks that felt it was necessary to pull to the middle of the road and straddle both lanes at least a mile before they came near me to let me know I was safe. Also, along my course, I waived hello to about 5 runners and gave one a high five. And, no doubt due to the amazing crisp weather and rolling elevation changes, it felt like I was passed and crossed paths with about 100 cyclists.
So, in short, my run was on track to be perfect, but I did need to stop for a pit stop and Gatorade. I'd hoped I could hit one of the general stores or, worst case scenario, a dive bar, along the route.
But, then, I turned the corner, and found Trailhead Coffee and Cycling Lounge, and I was filled with relief.
Runners are to cyclists like sisters are to brothers. And, much like the love you feel for a sibling, I knew with certitude I'd be welcome for a quick stop, even if I didn't have a bike or want any coffee.
As I expected, I was welcomed. I walked in, and before I could speak, the man behind the counter said, "Over there," pointing at the bathroom. I quickly walked past several middle-aged men in various stages of undress/lycra (most of whom had passed me on the way up the hill), smiled a thank you, and asked if they had Gatorade. It was on the counter waiting for me when I exited.
I paid, trying to avoid too long of a break in my run. While counting my change, between yelled exchanges with the various cyclists, the man running the show explained that I, like all runners, was always welcome to just come in and fill my water bottle there, get ice over there, and use the bathroom.
My only regret is that I didn't have my camera to take pictures on the run.
February 18, 2011
Latest Legal Spam
I received this gem in my law firm inbox today:
Dear Counsel,
we are in need of a litigation/business lawyer that will handle our case.
revat back to me for details.
Wow. Targeted enough to clear my spam filter (which is impressive since sometimes my clients' messages get stopped), but boy do you have the wrong Counsel.
And, "Revat"? What does that even mean?
I received this gem in my law firm inbox today:
Dear Counsel,
we are in need of a litigation/business lawyer that will handle our case.
revat back to me for details.
Wow. Targeted enough to clear my spam filter (which is impressive since sometimes my clients' messages get stopped), but boy do you have the wrong Counsel.
And, "Revat"? What does that even mean?
February 14, 2011
On the Road Again
My last attempt to train for and run a half marathon resulted in a turn-around and torn off number at the 2 mile mark, whereupon I ran back to the hotel and enjoyed a hot shower instead of continuing in the crowd of miserable people slipping and falling in the pouring rain.
I can now say I've *started* the US Half Marathon every year since 2005. I've finished it sub-2-hours 3 times, sub-2:15 once, and bailed at the 2 mile marker once (so far).
Overall, 2010 was a medium running year. I totaled 1067.7 miles, or about 20 miles per week. But, I didn't complete even a single race with a sub 10-minute-mile pace. When I look at my logs, the years I felt best in my running, I was doing marathons and totaling between 1200 and 1400 miles.
So, that's the goal this year. I'm working on my speed, and I've registered for two spring races and a memorial day marathon. By the time I toe the line at the marathon, it'll have been more almost 3 years since my last marathon, and 3.5 years since my marathon PR.
Ideally, I'd love to set a new PR. That will require much hard work and some luck, but it's good to have goals.
In fact, as a result of my renewed commitment to running, yesterday, I joined a Beer Run through Golden Gate park. Gorgeous weather, good post-race beer and food at Social, and new friends.
Not a bad start to the return to running.
My last attempt to train for and run a half marathon resulted in a turn-around and torn off number at the 2 mile mark, whereupon I ran back to the hotel and enjoyed a hot shower instead of continuing in the crowd of miserable people slipping and falling in the pouring rain.
I can now say I've *started* the US Half Marathon every year since 2005. I've finished it sub-2-hours 3 times, sub-2:15 once, and bailed at the 2 mile marker once (so far).
Overall, 2010 was a medium running year. I totaled 1067.7 miles, or about 20 miles per week. But, I didn't complete even a single race with a sub 10-minute-mile pace. When I look at my logs, the years I felt best in my running, I was doing marathons and totaling between 1200 and 1400 miles.
So, that's the goal this year. I'm working on my speed, and I've registered for two spring races and a memorial day marathon. By the time I toe the line at the marathon, it'll have been more almost 3 years since my last marathon, and 3.5 years since my marathon PR.
Ideally, I'd love to set a new PR. That will require much hard work and some luck, but it's good to have goals.
In fact, as a result of my renewed commitment to running, yesterday, I joined a Beer Run through Golden Gate park. Gorgeous weather, good post-race beer and food at Social, and new friends.
Not a bad start to the return to running.
February 3, 2011
Iridium Flare
Two nights ago, E announced that a big bright shiny point of light would magically appear in the night sky at about 45 degrees at a certain point in time.
We went outside.
Nothing happened.
E then realized he had the date wrong.
So, last night, we went outside at the same time. And this time, as promised, the iridium flare was briefly the brightest thing in the sky.
It was cruising at a high speed when it lit up for 5 seconds or so, and then it returned to the brightness of a super small star zipping across the sky.
If you're interested, you should check one out.
Two nights ago, E announced that a big bright shiny point of light would magically appear in the night sky at about 45 degrees at a certain point in time.
We went outside.
Nothing happened.
E then realized he had the date wrong.
So, last night, we went outside at the same time. And this time, as promised, the iridium flare was briefly the brightest thing in the sky.
It was cruising at a high speed when it lit up for 5 seconds or so, and then it returned to the brightness of a super small star zipping across the sky.
If you're interested, you should check one out.
January 29, 2011
Kosher, but not so healthy...
For the last few years, I've kept boxes of Mannischewitz Matzo Ball and Soup Mix in the pantry as a go-to quick delicious light and healthy (or so I thought) soup meal. All it takes is water and eggs and you have a light but filling delicious soup in 20 minutes. Also, adding a bit of Sriracha makes an extra special treat.
Today, I pulled out the last box in the pantry for lunch and amused myself by reading the ingredients.
MSG? Really?
54% of my daily sodium?
9 Servings in this little box?
Holy Moley.
Seeing as how E and I often divide a box into 2 large servings with a 3rd serving left over, it would appear that every time we do so we're getting > 162% of our daily sodium and an extra dash of MSG to boot.
I will be learning to make this meal from scratch!
In hindsight, I'm not sure why I thought the general rule that pre-prepared foods are bad for you didn't apply to Matzo ball soup in my mind. But, I've learned my lesson. Beware the pre-prepared foods! Even when calorically sound, they often have other gotchas you just don't need.
For the last few years, I've kept boxes of Mannischewitz Matzo Ball and Soup Mix in the pantry as a go-to quick delicious light and healthy (or so I thought) soup meal. All it takes is water and eggs and you have a light but filling delicious soup in 20 minutes. Also, adding a bit of Sriracha makes an extra special treat.
Today, I pulled out the last box in the pantry for lunch and amused myself by reading the ingredients.
MSG? Really?
54% of my daily sodium?
9 Servings in this little box?
Holy Moley.
Seeing as how E and I often divide a box into 2 large servings with a 3rd serving left over, it would appear that every time we do so we're getting > 162% of our daily sodium and an extra dash of MSG to boot.
I will be learning to make this meal from scratch!
In hindsight, I'm not sure why I thought the general rule that pre-prepared foods are bad for you didn't apply to Matzo ball soup in my mind. But, I've learned my lesson. Beware the pre-prepared foods! Even when calorically sound, they often have other gotchas you just don't need.
January 23, 2011
Argentina Food
Many other folks have written extensively about the amazing food of Argentina.
So, I'll just keep it to photos with minimal comments.
First, there is the glorious culture of the parilla:
Which results in juicy awesome steaks (Note: contrary to popular opinion, in our experience, the word Jugoso will get you a rare steak.):
But, the appetizers were the big surprise. Salads -- construct them from the ingredients on the menu. And, if you've never had fresh hearts of palm, order some palmitos. The fresh meristem of the palm has to be one of the most wonderously delicious vegetables on the planet (and, it's healthy!) Think artichoke hearts without the chokey flavor and an order of magnitude more succulent and yummy. Simply add a little balsamic vinegar, and some olive oil, and you are in heaven.
At one lunch, when I ordered sautéed vegetables as a break from the meat orgy, I was blessed with palm stringy things. I asked and more or less understood them to be related to hearts of palms, but easier to come by (and slightly less delicious, but still oh-so-salivation-inducing-tasty). Yet, upon arrival back home, despite at least 5 minutes of internet research, I was unable to identify what they were.
At the time, the server seemed so complacent that I figured it would be easy to figure out. But Google has thwarted me and instead distracted me to this hilarious video about someone stealing palm trees.
Back to Argentina. Have you heard of Empanadas?
Ay! Dios Mio! Que rico! And baked. The baked ones are to die for. They come in vegetarian cheesy goodness with tomatoes and other veggies, and of course, a full selection of meaty varieties, including chicken with curry flavors, which surprised me. I am sad that the ones we have in California are almost always fried. On the other hand, I'm trying to be caloricly deficient since our return, to eliminate the excess of Argentina that attached itself to me. So perhaps I'm not that sad...
And, now, to my favorite appetizer: Provoleta.
A huge hunk of locally made cow's milk cheese covered with herbs and grilled? As a starter? What a wonderful thing!
And, if you are lucky, you can order Provoleta a la napoletana or Provoleta completa which comes with ham and an onion tomato garlic sauce or just fresh chopped onions and tomatoes. Either way, it's a brilliant appetizer and I wonder why, with all of the Real California Cheese marketing they haven't figured out that this is an easy way to convince diners to order and consume half a pound of cheese, no problem.
Ahumados. Smoked Goodness. Ciervo (venison), Trucha (trout, including pink trout, delicious!), and Fabali (wild boar), plus, of course, queso (cheese, which they often interlace in meats prior to smoking... how cool is that?)
Many other folks have written extensively about the amazing food of Argentina.
So, I'll just keep it to photos with minimal comments.
First, there is the glorious culture of the parilla:
Which results in juicy awesome steaks (Note: contrary to popular opinion, in our experience, the word Jugoso will get you a rare steak.):
But, the appetizers were the big surprise. Salads -- construct them from the ingredients on the menu. And, if you've never had fresh hearts of palm, order some palmitos. The fresh meristem of the palm has to be one of the most wonderously delicious vegetables on the planet (and, it's healthy!) Think artichoke hearts without the chokey flavor and an order of magnitude more succulent and yummy. Simply add a little balsamic vinegar, and some olive oil, and you are in heaven.
At one lunch, when I ordered sautéed vegetables as a break from the meat orgy, I was blessed with palm stringy things. I asked and more or less understood them to be related to hearts of palms, but easier to come by (and slightly less delicious, but still oh-so-salivation-inducing-tasty). Yet, upon arrival back home, despite at least 5 minutes of internet research, I was unable to identify what they were.
At the time, the server seemed so complacent that I figured it would be easy to figure out. But Google has thwarted me and instead distracted me to this hilarious video about someone stealing palm trees.
Back to Argentina. Have you heard of Empanadas?
Ay! Dios Mio! Que rico! And baked. The baked ones are to die for. They come in vegetarian cheesy goodness with tomatoes and other veggies, and of course, a full selection of meaty varieties, including chicken with curry flavors, which surprised me. I am sad that the ones we have in California are almost always fried. On the other hand, I'm trying to be caloricly deficient since our return, to eliminate the excess of Argentina that attached itself to me. So perhaps I'm not that sad...
And, now, to my favorite appetizer: Provoleta.
A huge hunk of locally made cow's milk cheese covered with herbs and grilled? As a starter? What a wonderful thing!
And, if you are lucky, you can order Provoleta a la napoletana or Provoleta completa which comes with ham and an onion tomato garlic sauce or just fresh chopped onions and tomatoes. Either way, it's a brilliant appetizer and I wonder why, with all of the Real California Cheese marketing they haven't figured out that this is an easy way to convince diners to order and consume half a pound of cheese, no problem.
Ahumados. Smoked Goodness. Ciervo (venison), Trucha (trout, including pink trout, delicious!), and Fabali (wild boar), plus, of course, queso (cheese, which they often interlace in meats prior to smoking... how cool is that?)
January 15, 2011
2010: The Year in Books
Despite my Slow Start, I made it to27 28 (forgot one). My best showing since I started keeping track. And, this year feels like it's got potential, so I'm going to challenge myself to 30. Any suggestions?
1. The Year of the Flood, Margaret Atwood. Awesomely complex characters riddled by religion/society/scars from other humans. Primarily strong women, which is, of course, if repeated throughout many books, a flaw, as an author should be more balanced with well developed characters of all genders, but much like most male authors throughout history who have favored their male characters, hers is a common and easily overlooked flaw. Also, there are lyrics of song and worship that reminded me of Blake, one of my favorite poets. In the afterward, she noted Blake as one of her inspirations. Overall, this was one of the most enjoyable books I read this year.
2. The Four Hour Work Week, Tim Ferris. No doubt you've heard of it and some of the many opinions it has incited. I found its perspectives interesting -- some useful, but most ridiculous. Good preparation for going out on my own as a solo.
3. World Without End, Ken Follett. Masterful storytelling -- twisting and turning plot with complex, flawed, but loveable characters. Excellent historical research.
4. The Blind Assassin, Margaret Atwood. Amazing, painful, at times chuckle-worthy, but at all times clear descriptions of raw humans and their wrinkles and bows, set firmly in the details of the mid-20th century.
5. Tales From the Pancake Guy, Jamis MacNiven. Hilarious insider stories from Silicon Valley, Berkeley in the 60s and the random travels of a true adventurer (and likely a tall-tale-teller, but a great one).
6. Shanghai Baby, Wei Hui. A crazy tale of a foreign life lived by a young female author in a foreign city, but told in a way that felt eerily familiar. It made me want to spend some time in Shanghai.
7. Zorro, Isabel Allende. A mythical lyrical tale of adventure in the early 19th century combining the Spanish missions in California, Native American magic, gypsies, fencing, pirates, secret societies, unrequited love, prison breaks, travel across the world, and more. A delightful escape.
8. Prodigal Summer, Barbara Kingsolver. A multi-character narative told from the interwoven perspectives of a Mountain woman, an aging farmer, and a "city-girl" widower. An impressively researched biologically fact-heavy story of life and interdependencies. One of my favorite books of the year.
9. Animal, Vegetable, Miracle, Barbara Kingsolver. As E said, "You've got a complete girl-crush on Barbara Kingsolver." This book tells the story of an adventure after my own heart. As a gardner and food enthusiast, I couldn't agree with her more. It was entertaining, educational, and inspirational.
10. Farm city: The Education of an Urban Farmer, Novella Carpenter.
11. Girl With a Pearl Earring, Tracy Chevalier. Simply written sentences told a bold and intriguing tale. A study in character development -- I could not help but fall for and root for the heroine.
12. Women Food and God: An Unexpected Path to Almost Everything, Geneen Roth. Interesting combination of Zen and Yogic philsophies as applied to women's compulsive eating issues. While I had difficulty relating to the majority of the eating issues displayed by the author and her clients, I was surprised as the application of philosophies I have come to embrace in the face of my own patterns -- it helped me understand that the zen and yogic philosophies are, at their core, about how we, as humans, can learn not to hide from our true nature.
13. The Other Boleyn Girl, Phillipa Gregory. An excellent tour of pre-Elizabethan British Courts and the ridiculousnous that ruled the world therefrom. Also, a great life story of one who loves despite the power struggles that make it unintelligent to do so.
14. A Thousand Splendid Suns, Khaled Hosseni. A poignant love story that graphically depicts the fate of women in Afghanistan.
15. The World to Come, Dara Horn. A mystical tale of birth, death, life, love and art built on Jewish, Hebrew, Yiddish, Russian and American culture.
16. Halting State, Charles Stross. A mystery science fiction novel set in Scotland post UK economic meltdown setting forth a super-speedy tale of esponage, crimes perpetrated in virtual reality, and one possibility of the future of economics and trusted computing.
17. The Gold Coast, Nelson Demille. A novel in the Gatsby Tradition regarding the fading gentry of Long Island's Gold Coast, their social mores and traditions, and how they mix and react with the only new money that can buy them out: mafia, foreign royalty, and others.
18. The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, Steig Larssen. A gripping crime trilogy with a whiplash-inducing plot focused on drawing attention to violence and hatred against women by men.
19. The Girl Who Played with Fire, Steig Larssen.
20. The Girl Who Kicked the Hornets' Nest, Steig Larssen.
21. A Short History of Nearly Everything, Bill Bryson. A lighthearted skim of the little bit humans have learned the development of life on earth. Informative and funny.
22. Gang Leader For a Day, Sudhir Venkatesh. A fascinating look inside the daily life of one of Chicago's largest projects and the various power brokers within it.
23. Tinkers, Paul Harding. A woven story of fathers and sons, told in non-linear time, and sad but precise poetic language.
24. The Solace of Open Spaces, Gretel Ehrlich. Language paints the rugged sadness and lonely beauty of Wyoming and how the space can heal.
25. Woman Hollering Creek, Sandra Cisneros. Beautiful Vingnettes. Strong Language. Often painful Stories, achingly told.
26. Kate Vaiden, Reynolds Price. Best female character I've ever read written by a male author. An orphan due to tragedy tells her story of survival and the choices she made in hopes of reuniting with the son she gave up for adoption 40 years ago.
27. Run with the Horsemen, Ferrol Sams. Languid biography of growing up in the South interspersed with vivid displays of racial tension and race/class roles all told from the view of a child who's known nothing else.
28. A Civil Action, Jonathan Harr. A gripping real-life tale of a self-destructing lawyer chasing a complex toxic tort case.
Despite my Slow Start, I made it to
1. The Year of the Flood, Margaret Atwood. Awesomely complex characters riddled by religion/society/scars from other humans. Primarily strong women, which is, of course, if repeated throughout many books, a flaw, as an author should be more balanced with well developed characters of all genders, but much like most male authors throughout history who have favored their male characters, hers is a common and easily overlooked flaw. Also, there are lyrics of song and worship that reminded me of Blake, one of my favorite poets. In the afterward, she noted Blake as one of her inspirations. Overall, this was one of the most enjoyable books I read this year.
2. The Four Hour Work Week, Tim Ferris. No doubt you've heard of it and some of the many opinions it has incited. I found its perspectives interesting -- some useful, but most ridiculous. Good preparation for going out on my own as a solo.
3. World Without End, Ken Follett. Masterful storytelling -- twisting and turning plot with complex, flawed, but loveable characters. Excellent historical research.
4. The Blind Assassin, Margaret Atwood. Amazing, painful, at times chuckle-worthy, but at all times clear descriptions of raw humans and their wrinkles and bows, set firmly in the details of the mid-20th century.
5. Tales From the Pancake Guy, Jamis MacNiven. Hilarious insider stories from Silicon Valley, Berkeley in the 60s and the random travels of a true adventurer (and likely a tall-tale-teller, but a great one).
6. Shanghai Baby, Wei Hui. A crazy tale of a foreign life lived by a young female author in a foreign city, but told in a way that felt eerily familiar. It made me want to spend some time in Shanghai.
7. Zorro, Isabel Allende. A mythical lyrical tale of adventure in the early 19th century combining the Spanish missions in California, Native American magic, gypsies, fencing, pirates, secret societies, unrequited love, prison breaks, travel across the world, and more. A delightful escape.
8. Prodigal Summer, Barbara Kingsolver. A multi-character narative told from the interwoven perspectives of a Mountain woman, an aging farmer, and a "city-girl" widower. An impressively researched biologically fact-heavy story of life and interdependencies. One of my favorite books of the year.
9. Animal, Vegetable, Miracle, Barbara Kingsolver. As E said, "You've got a complete girl-crush on Barbara Kingsolver." This book tells the story of an adventure after my own heart. As a gardner and food enthusiast, I couldn't agree with her more. It was entertaining, educational, and inspirational.
10. Farm city: The Education of an Urban Farmer, Novella Carpenter.
11. Girl With a Pearl Earring, Tracy Chevalier. Simply written sentences told a bold and intriguing tale. A study in character development -- I could not help but fall for and root for the heroine.
12. Women Food and God: An Unexpected Path to Almost Everything, Geneen Roth. Interesting combination of Zen and Yogic philsophies as applied to women's compulsive eating issues. While I had difficulty relating to the majority of the eating issues displayed by the author and her clients, I was surprised as the application of philosophies I have come to embrace in the face of my own patterns -- it helped me understand that the zen and yogic philosophies are, at their core, about how we, as humans, can learn not to hide from our true nature.
13. The Other Boleyn Girl, Phillipa Gregory. An excellent tour of pre-Elizabethan British Courts and the ridiculousnous that ruled the world therefrom. Also, a great life story of one who loves despite the power struggles that make it unintelligent to do so.
14. A Thousand Splendid Suns, Khaled Hosseni. A poignant love story that graphically depicts the fate of women in Afghanistan.
15. The World to Come, Dara Horn. A mystical tale of birth, death, life, love and art built on Jewish, Hebrew, Yiddish, Russian and American culture.
16. Halting State, Charles Stross. A mystery science fiction novel set in Scotland post UK economic meltdown setting forth a super-speedy tale of esponage, crimes perpetrated in virtual reality, and one possibility of the future of economics and trusted computing.
17. The Gold Coast, Nelson Demille. A novel in the Gatsby Tradition regarding the fading gentry of Long Island's Gold Coast, their social mores and traditions, and how they mix and react with the only new money that can buy them out: mafia, foreign royalty, and others.
18. The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, Steig Larssen. A gripping crime trilogy with a whiplash-inducing plot focused on drawing attention to violence and hatred against women by men.
19. The Girl Who Played with Fire, Steig Larssen.
20. The Girl Who Kicked the Hornets' Nest, Steig Larssen.
21. A Short History of Nearly Everything, Bill Bryson. A lighthearted skim of the little bit humans have learned the development of life on earth. Informative and funny.
22. Gang Leader For a Day, Sudhir Venkatesh. A fascinating look inside the daily life of one of Chicago's largest projects and the various power brokers within it.
23. Tinkers, Paul Harding. A woven story of fathers and sons, told in non-linear time, and sad but precise poetic language.
24. The Solace of Open Spaces, Gretel Ehrlich. Language paints the rugged sadness and lonely beauty of Wyoming and how the space can heal.
25. Woman Hollering Creek, Sandra Cisneros. Beautiful Vingnettes. Strong Language. Often painful Stories, achingly told.
26. Kate Vaiden, Reynolds Price. Best female character I've ever read written by a male author. An orphan due to tragedy tells her story of survival and the choices she made in hopes of reuniting with the son she gave up for adoption 40 years ago.
27. Run with the Horsemen, Ferrol Sams. Languid biography of growing up in the South interspersed with vivid displays of racial tension and race/class roles all told from the view of a child who's known nothing else.
28. A Civil Action, Jonathan Harr. A gripping real-life tale of a self-destructing lawyer chasing a complex toxic tort case.
Uruguayan Fried Fish
It's a thirty-five minute flight from Buenos Aires to Montevideo, which I believe is the shortest flight I've ever taken in my life.
Montevideo on a Sunday evening in early January is an overwhelming horde of people lounging, wading, eating, sunning, swimming, biking, and walking along the 20Km stretch of beach that makes up much of the city's border.
Our cab driver probably cheated us by taking the long route (along the coast) from the airport to our hotel, but it was very helpful in helping us decide between the beaches of Punta del Este or the historic town of Colonia. The masses on the beach made it clear -- we were going to head for the sleepier northern town on the river rather than the crowds of the beaches.
We walked to dinner at El Fogon. E's pulpo a la gallega was amazing. My order of merluza a la marinera came as a lightly fried filet without tomatoes or any kind of sauce.
Assuming I knew what I'd ordered (to some degree, expecting at a minimum some tomatoes) I told the waiter that my dish was not what I had ordered.
After a look of confusion, he apologized profusely. He took the dish away and returned, triumphant, 5 minutes later, with the same fish, obviously much more elaborately battered and fried.
At this point, I remembered that a la napolitana was what I wanted, and E laughed hysterically at the likely conversation in the kitchen, because clearly, in this restaurant, a la marinera just meant *fried*:
Those Americans sent this marinera back because it isn't fried to their standards. You know Americans. They invented KFC. Could you please fry it some more for them?
It's a thirty-five minute flight from Buenos Aires to Montevideo, which I believe is the shortest flight I've ever taken in my life.
Montevideo on a Sunday evening in early January is an overwhelming horde of people lounging, wading, eating, sunning, swimming, biking, and walking along the 20Km stretch of beach that makes up much of the city's border.
Our cab driver probably cheated us by taking the long route (along the coast) from the airport to our hotel, but it was very helpful in helping us decide between the beaches of Punta del Este or the historic town of Colonia. The masses on the beach made it clear -- we were going to head for the sleepier northern town on the river rather than the crowds of the beaches.
We walked to dinner at El Fogon. E's pulpo a la gallega was amazing. My order of merluza a la marinera came as a lightly fried filet without tomatoes or any kind of sauce.
Assuming I knew what I'd ordered (to some degree, expecting at a minimum some tomatoes) I told the waiter that my dish was not what I had ordered.
After a look of confusion, he apologized profusely. He took the dish away and returned, triumphant, 5 minutes later, with the same fish, obviously much more elaborately battered and fried.
At this point, I remembered that a la napolitana was what I wanted, and E laughed hysterically at the likely conversation in the kitchen, because clearly, in this restaurant, a la marinera just meant *fried*:
Those Americans sent this marinera back because it isn't fried to their standards. You know Americans. They invented KFC. Could you please fry it some more for them?
January 11, 2011
Happy
The greatest thing about this trip is the uninterrupted time with my best friend. In hindsight, I remember saying the same thing about our Asia trip in 2008. And, historically, we've left the country together at least once every 12 months, so the last 20 months have been something of an anomaly. But still, the wonderful togetherness and sharing of things that haven't been shared with anyone else -- they are the happiest and most unique glue in our relationship.
I'm not sure what I did to deserve such a wonderful husband who feels that travel in my style is good (e.g. with partial-planning of the big things but with lots of seat-of-the-pants adventures). But, I hope to keep it up.
Traveling the world with someone who shares my values is an amazing gift. I am grateful. We've been to two Catholic churches this trip, and in both I've left an offering and taken the time to kneel and give thanks for many things (you may note, I feel free to worship in pretty much any sacred place). My wonderful husband, best friend, supporter, and fun travel friend -- this has been the object of the first of my thanks in each case.
In many touchy-feely events and classes I've attended throughout my life, I've been asked to define what "success" means to me. I've never really known how to answer. Generally, my feeling has been, "I'll let you know if I get there."
Yesterday, I thought of those events and smiled. We were sitting outside under a metal awning in a restaurant that looked like a 50's drive-in but had table service, in Montevideo, on the corner of Ejido and 18 de Julio (the main street of the capital of Uruguay). I was enjoying a chivito sandwich (with a fried egg!), while E was eating mushroom raviolli, and, of course, both of us sipped on agua mineral con gas y vino while sharing a salad of palmitos. For more than 2 hours, we watched the world go by in the city with the highest literacy rate in South America, and leisurely felt at home in the pace of life and language of our 5th continent and 13th country together.
I don't think I've never smiled when thinking about my own definition of "success" before. So, I guess that's something kind of big.
The greatest thing about this trip is the uninterrupted time with my best friend. In hindsight, I remember saying the same thing about our Asia trip in 2008. And, historically, we've left the country together at least once every 12 months, so the last 20 months have been something of an anomaly. But still, the wonderful togetherness and sharing of things that haven't been shared with anyone else -- they are the happiest and most unique glue in our relationship.
I'm not sure what I did to deserve such a wonderful husband who feels that travel in my style is good (e.g. with partial-planning of the big things but with lots of seat-of-the-pants adventures). But, I hope to keep it up.
Traveling the world with someone who shares my values is an amazing gift. I am grateful. We've been to two Catholic churches this trip, and in both I've left an offering and taken the time to kneel and give thanks for many things (you may note, I feel free to worship in pretty much any sacred place). My wonderful husband, best friend, supporter, and fun travel friend -- this has been the object of the first of my thanks in each case.
In many touchy-feely events and classes I've attended throughout my life, I've been asked to define what "success" means to me. I've never really known how to answer. Generally, my feeling has been, "I'll let you know if I get there."
Yesterday, I thought of those events and smiled. We were sitting outside under a metal awning in a restaurant that looked like a 50's drive-in but had table service, in Montevideo, on the corner of Ejido and 18 de Julio (the main street of the capital of Uruguay). I was enjoying a chivito sandwich (with a fried egg!), while E was eating mushroom raviolli, and, of course, both of us sipped on agua mineral con gas y vino while sharing a salad of palmitos. For more than 2 hours, we watched the world go by in the city with the highest literacy rate in South America, and leisurely felt at home in the pace of life and language of our 5th continent and 13th country together.
I don't think I've never smiled when thinking about my own definition of "success" before. So, I guess that's something kind of big.
January 10, 2011
Bariloche
We splurged on a fancy-pants resort for our 3 night stay in Bariloche. We checked in to gorgeous views of the lake on a uniquely calm day.
The first night, our buddy Ivan at the front desk recommended the best (and best priced) parilla experience of our trip: El Boliche de Alberto. It was a nice 1.5 Km walk, each way, which was a good thing because we opted for provoleta, salad, and huge Entraña in addition to wine and water. This may have been my favorite meal of the trip.
The next day we walked to Teleferico de Cerro Otto and took the old-school two-cable gondola to the top of the mountain for an awesome lunch of local specialties (smoked venison, wild boar, fish and cheeses) and salad while we rotated through the 360 degrees of views in the rotating restaurant. After 2 hours of rotating, we hiked to the nearest peak and enjoyed the views.
From there, we headed downtown and walked until we'd worked up an appetite for gelato at Jauja heladeria (mmmm... thanks for the recommedation ALV). We walked around town, watched a windsurfing race, toured the cathedral and eventually figured out how to catch a bus to somewhere near our hotel.
We liked our first night's recommendation for dinner so much that we asked Ivan for advice on night two. He recommended El Patacon (check out the picture of Bill on the homepage!). Upon entrance, they pour you rosehip pulp mixed with white wine -- a bit odd, but quite delicious, actually, and it makes their guerrilla jewelry salon sales efforts more tolerable (thanks to their efforts, I bought a handmade necklace of leather and metal, so perhaps they know what they are doing). The fire with the splayed lambs in the lobby won E over on first sight, and, fittingly, after smoked venison and glazed mushrooms starter and an empanada, they served him his favorite meal of the trip -- an amazing medallones de lomo preparation with mashed potatoes (my trout was bright pink and flavorful in a light acidic break from the red meat orgy).
The last day, after a false start with the bus system and waiting "ten minutes" (aka 40 minutes) for a cab, we headed out to the much fancier than our digs resort of Llao Llao, where we were unable to take the hike we'd scheduled, but were mistaken as guests of a wedding (American daughter of ex-pats who live in Bariloche marrying a Central American man, I believe) and, so, they allowed us to sit for lunch in the fully reserved lobby bar. (Score!) Food was good, but the views, eavesdropping, and people-watching were phenomenal.
Perhaps this is why the port for our boat tour out to a peninsula and an island in the middle of the lake left from their driveway. You know what they say: Location, Location, Location. The entire boat ride, E and I couldn't help but gape in awe at the majority of the lake's edges and their pristine state of undeveloped nature. Thank you Perito Moreno (think the John Muir of Argentina).
Upon return to our hotel (we made the bus system work for us on the way back), we learned we'd been upgraded to a suite with an in-room sauna for our last night (double score!).
For dinner, we walked to the finest meal of our trip at Butterfly. With only 7 tables and two seatings, reservations are very difficult, but ALV had given us the head's up so we'd made it a priority ahead of time. Wow! Assuming I can find the time, there will be a whole separate post to rave in particularity with pictures. Regardless of my schedule, suffice it to say that this group of folks is on the rise. In an amusing coincidence, the Irish chef, Edward (from Cork) had attended the wedding at Llao Llao the night before and he, like the Llao Llao staff, mistook us for guests he'd met there. He was embarrassed and apologized profusely, but we were very amused. Apparently, the parents of the bride are very good customers and fans of his restaurant, so he was invited to the wedding -- this explains the unexpected cancellation of our original reservation and their request to reschedule. A nearby table during our dinner was 4 obvious guests on the American side, as well, all currently living in New York.
This was one of those times that travel really makes you think -- events that have nothing to do with your life prior to arrival can become extremely relevant during your stay. To travel well is to be aware of your own frame of reference and your life's state of relativity.
Speaking of frames of reference. While it occasionally annoyed us (buses, dry dirty roads -- or choking dust, as E liked to call it), for the most part, Bariloche spoiled us.
We splurged on a fancy-pants resort for our 3 night stay in Bariloche. We checked in to gorgeous views of the lake on a uniquely calm day.
The first night, our buddy Ivan at the front desk recommended the best (and best priced) parilla experience of our trip: El Boliche de Alberto. It was a nice 1.5 Km walk, each way, which was a good thing because we opted for provoleta, salad, and huge Entraña in addition to wine and water. This may have been my favorite meal of the trip.
The next day we walked to Teleferico de Cerro Otto and took the old-school two-cable gondola to the top of the mountain for an awesome lunch of local specialties (smoked venison, wild boar, fish and cheeses) and salad while we rotated through the 360 degrees of views in the rotating restaurant. After 2 hours of rotating, we hiked to the nearest peak and enjoyed the views.
From there, we headed downtown and walked until we'd worked up an appetite for gelato at Jauja heladeria (mmmm... thanks for the recommedation ALV). We walked around town, watched a windsurfing race, toured the cathedral and eventually figured out how to catch a bus to somewhere near our hotel.
We liked our first night's recommendation for dinner so much that we asked Ivan for advice on night two. He recommended El Patacon (check out the picture of Bill on the homepage!). Upon entrance, they pour you rosehip pulp mixed with white wine -- a bit odd, but quite delicious, actually, and it makes their guerrilla jewelry salon sales efforts more tolerable (thanks to their efforts, I bought a handmade necklace of leather and metal, so perhaps they know what they are doing). The fire with the splayed lambs in the lobby won E over on first sight, and, fittingly, after smoked venison and glazed mushrooms starter and an empanada, they served him his favorite meal of the trip -- an amazing medallones de lomo preparation with mashed potatoes (my trout was bright pink and flavorful in a light acidic break from the red meat orgy).
The last day, after a false start with the bus system and waiting "ten minutes" (aka 40 minutes) for a cab, we headed out to the much fancier than our digs resort of Llao Llao, where we were unable to take the hike we'd scheduled, but were mistaken as guests of a wedding (American daughter of ex-pats who live in Bariloche marrying a Central American man, I believe) and, so, they allowed us to sit for lunch in the fully reserved lobby bar. (Score!) Food was good, but the views, eavesdropping, and people-watching were phenomenal.
Perhaps this is why the port for our boat tour out to a peninsula and an island in the middle of the lake left from their driveway. You know what they say: Location, Location, Location. The entire boat ride, E and I couldn't help but gape in awe at the majority of the lake's edges and their pristine state of undeveloped nature. Thank you Perito Moreno (think the John Muir of Argentina).
Upon return to our hotel (we made the bus system work for us on the way back), we learned we'd been upgraded to a suite with an in-room sauna for our last night (double score!).
For dinner, we walked to the finest meal of our trip at Butterfly. With only 7 tables and two seatings, reservations are very difficult, but ALV had given us the head's up so we'd made it a priority ahead of time. Wow! Assuming I can find the time, there will be a whole separate post to rave in particularity with pictures. Regardless of my schedule, suffice it to say that this group of folks is on the rise. In an amusing coincidence, the Irish chef, Edward (from Cork) had attended the wedding at Llao Llao the night before and he, like the Llao Llao staff, mistook us for guests he'd met there. He was embarrassed and apologized profusely, but we were very amused. Apparently, the parents of the bride are very good customers and fans of his restaurant, so he was invited to the wedding -- this explains the unexpected cancellation of our original reservation and their request to reschedule. A nearby table during our dinner was 4 obvious guests on the American side, as well, all currently living in New York.
This was one of those times that travel really makes you think -- events that have nothing to do with your life prior to arrival can become extremely relevant during your stay. To travel well is to be aware of your own frame of reference and your life's state of relativity.
Speaking of frames of reference. While it occasionally annoyed us (buses, dry dirty roads -- or choking dust, as E liked to call it), for the most part, Bariloche spoiled us.
Mendoza
Wine. Food. Wine. Food.
I felt like I was living a fairly healthy tourist lifestyle in Buenos Aires. Lots of walking. Working out. No bread or pastas except for the occasional empanada. Sharing delicous portions of meat on the side of full portions of vegetables. With a few modifications, we followed this pattern in Iguazu as well.
With no scales to be had, I convinced myself I must be getting healthier and losing weight on this Atkin's diet of sorts.
And now, I'll never know if it was true. Thanks Mendoza.
We flew from Iguazu back to Buenos Aires and, despite the chaos and confusion of the Mitre Omnibus Terminal, we managed to board our bus for the overnight ride to Mendoza. Apparently, this is the standard mode of transportation in Argentina. So, while our trip was too short to do it for every leg of transport between cities, we figured we'd give it a try at least once.
Pros: it's less expensive than flying and much more comfortable than 13 hours on a plane in economy class. Also, there's a dedicated attendant, and since we opted to pay the extra $25 US or so to get leather seats that fully reclined, our seats came with sparkling wine and our dinner came with wine.
Cons: The flight would have been about an hour and forty minutes. More importantly for me, a rocking bus in traffic is much louder than a plane. So, I spent much of the night almost dozing off to be woken by a horn, a jostle, cross traffic, or my fellow passengers. While awake, I cursed my stupidity for leaving my earplugs in my checked luggage.
Eventually, we arrived in Mendoza unshowered and sleepy. Thankfully, we were immediately checked in, and after a shower, we sat for a 2 hour Italian lunch including a meat and cheese plate, salad, beet and squash gnocchi with lamb in a tomato sauce, and pounded veal cutlets for E in a white wine olive sauce. You know, a light lunch.
Siesta.
A flight of wines at Vines of Mendoza Tasting Room (highly recommended).
Dinner at the hotel and sleep. Glorious sleep.
A weak excuse for a workout. Wait for the driver, who is 30 minutes after the rescheduled late arrival. Coffee. Of course, the driver arrives once the coffee has been ordered.
A gluttonous day of wine tasting and food including the lunch of infinite awkwardness. Suffice it to say that we are not wine buyers, but we were the guests of a winemaking family who had come under this impression for some reason. They were not thrilled with our honest questions, like "Rioja? As in Spain?" (Note: we have since learned that there is a wine region known as Rioja in Argentina as well)
Thankfully, despite the mix-up, we had a superlative day of fabulous wines and great food, which makes everything wonderful.
For dinner, we followed the advice of the amazing Carolyn of Uncorked Argentina and enjoyed a deliciously multi-regional meal at Siete Cocinas (Note: best scallop ceviche I've ever had. Order it.)
On our walk home, we stopped to buy water. We re-hydrated until sleep.
The last morning in Mendoza, I rose to work out, guiltily. Restraint of any sort had not been in effect for several days and the workout felt as you'd imagine.
From there, we were to fly to Bariloche, the land of chocolate.
(pictures and more details to come)
Wine. Food. Wine. Food.
I felt like I was living a fairly healthy tourist lifestyle in Buenos Aires. Lots of walking. Working out. No bread or pastas except for the occasional empanada. Sharing delicous portions of meat on the side of full portions of vegetables. With a few modifications, we followed this pattern in Iguazu as well.
With no scales to be had, I convinced myself I must be getting healthier and losing weight on this Atkin's diet of sorts.
And now, I'll never know if it was true. Thanks Mendoza.
We flew from Iguazu back to Buenos Aires and, despite the chaos and confusion of the Mitre Omnibus Terminal, we managed to board our bus for the overnight ride to Mendoza. Apparently, this is the standard mode of transportation in Argentina. So, while our trip was too short to do it for every leg of transport between cities, we figured we'd give it a try at least once.
Pros: it's less expensive than flying and much more comfortable than 13 hours on a plane in economy class. Also, there's a dedicated attendant, and since we opted to pay the extra $25 US or so to get leather seats that fully reclined, our seats came with sparkling wine and our dinner came with wine.
Cons: The flight would have been about an hour and forty minutes. More importantly for me, a rocking bus in traffic is much louder than a plane. So, I spent much of the night almost dozing off to be woken by a horn, a jostle, cross traffic, or my fellow passengers. While awake, I cursed my stupidity for leaving my earplugs in my checked luggage.
Eventually, we arrived in Mendoza unshowered and sleepy. Thankfully, we were immediately checked in, and after a shower, we sat for a 2 hour Italian lunch including a meat and cheese plate, salad, beet and squash gnocchi with lamb in a tomato sauce, and pounded veal cutlets for E in a white wine olive sauce. You know, a light lunch.
Siesta.
A flight of wines at Vines of Mendoza Tasting Room (highly recommended).
Dinner at the hotel and sleep. Glorious sleep.
A weak excuse for a workout. Wait for the driver, who is 30 minutes after the rescheduled late arrival. Coffee. Of course, the driver arrives once the coffee has been ordered.
A gluttonous day of wine tasting and food including the lunch of infinite awkwardness. Suffice it to say that we are not wine buyers, but we were the guests of a winemaking family who had come under this impression for some reason. They were not thrilled with our honest questions, like "Rioja? As in Spain?" (Note: we have since learned that there is a wine region known as Rioja in Argentina as well)
Thankfully, despite the mix-up, we had a superlative day of fabulous wines and great food, which makes everything wonderful.
For dinner, we followed the advice of the amazing Carolyn of Uncorked Argentina and enjoyed a deliciously multi-regional meal at Siete Cocinas (Note: best scallop ceviche I've ever had. Order it.)
On our walk home, we stopped to buy water. We re-hydrated until sleep.
The last morning in Mendoza, I rose to work out, guiltily. Restraint of any sort had not been in effect for several days and the workout felt as you'd imagine.
From there, we were to fly to Bariloche, the land of chocolate.
(pictures and more details to come)
January 9, 2011
Argentina Tidbits
Sadly, we're almost done with Argentina. More details and photos to come. But, since we've stamped out of Argentina except for our last visit before our return flight from EZE, and we now have Uruguayan Pesos in our wallets, I need to take a moment to remember the small things about Argentina before I forget them.
Amazing coffee. Oh, how I will miss thee. In some ways, Argentina takes the coffee ritual even more seriously than Italy or France. I never saw a single person walk up and order a shot (or double or triple) of espresso just to shoot it, pay, and leave. Always, there was a pause. A seat, even if just on a bar stool. Sipping and Savoring. And of course, a longer pause that is entirely outside of the consumer's control for the server to return and collect payment. The way we saw it, unless you find yourself in a Restaurante Auto-Servicio (which is a cafeteria monster with lines and trays you slide along like school), Servers control access to the change and receipts, not the person running the cash register.
Agua con gas, you are easy to find at home. I already stock it in our fridge, but I'm thinking I will try to continue its part in my daily routine (thereby replacing many diet cokes).
Palmitos. Oh dear. I can't believe this vegetable has been missing from my life for so long. After its discovery, I tried to eat it at least once a day, always just with olive oil and balsamic vinegar. Apparently, according to the server I asked, they farm them in Argentina, which is why they are ubiquitous (i.e. they grow sustainable multi-stemmed plants and selectively harvest instead of killing wild palms by harvesting the single stem). Yay! Guilt free deliciousness. Too bad the only state in the US where they are farmed is Hawaii. More investigation will occur.
Roxette. They are huge here. Unlike most Americans, I was a big fan back in the day, and I listened to their cassette tape incessantly. So, in Argentina, I often find myself singing along in taxis, on the overnight buses, etc. I blend.
80s revival. Clothes. Music. Everywhere. Is this true in the US as well?
Hoarding of change and small bills. Metamatt warned us, but it's still shocking. So let's say you are lucky enough to find an ATM with cash, but you don't get small denominations. Well, merchants will refuse to do business if they think the bills presented are too large for the transaction. Vendors sell stacks of change at the bus terminal in Buenos Aires and call it out as you walk by Hay Moneda! Hay Moneda!. On several occasions I have walked away from a purchase in surprise due to the rejection of my 100 peso or 50 peso bill. The economic forces at play are mind-boggling.
General inefficiency. Yesterday I shocked myself by thinking that the municpial bus system in Bariloche was less efficient than *BOTH* the Italian and the Mexican solutions to the same problem. I can honestly say I'm unaware of thinking that about anything else. Ever.
Airport trade-offs. After this trip, I will have taken more flights in close succession from Aeroparque than from any other airport in the world. This is not by choice, it's just that most flights within the country are on spokes of a wheel that centers on Aeroparque. As promised, the security line is usually super-speedy and reasonable. For example, I watched them let a teacher with a collection of rounded-tipped scissors through after a brief questioning, although I did get a 5 minute questioning on my facial powder on one occasion -- rather than upset me, it made me smile -- good point! Why aren't they looking for large amounts of contained powders? (Now I've done it...) No matter what I'd been told, however, the time saved in security was easily replaced by other inconveniences. Instead of jetways or good old fashioned walking on the tarmac, on multiple occasions, we have exited airport gates, to wait for a bus to slowly load and spasticly transport about half of the passengers (and their luggage) 50 meters so we can slowly disembark and walk the last 20 meters to the stairs (while the other half load the plane in front of us or the bus behind us). On one occasion, a driver revved the engine multiple times but failed to move until the exasperated driver in the bus behind him exited, tapped on his window and explained how to put it in first and release the clutch while all of us passengers looked on. Often the airport bus does not start, it does not have air conditioning, or the bus doors do not open properly. On one flight, after disembarking the bus, passengers were simultaneously told to board the front stairs and the rear stairs of our MD-88 -- no thought was given to which entrance should be used by passengers assigned to which seats, so, after E and I took the rear stairs to our seats in the rear of the plane, we got to enjoy the show for 15 minutes while folks fought their way past each other for access to their seats and luggage space.
10 minutes means the same thing as 15 minutes or 20 minutes. AKA, "sometime in the next hour."
Baked empanadas. (Read: not fried). E tried to eat these every day.
Provoleta -- or, let's take some local provolone cheese and brush it with olive oil, top it with herbs and grill it. Or better yet, let's add some tomatoes and onions and make provoleta a la napoletana. In honor of which genius should I build an altar?
And steak. Great steak. Oh, how I have loved thee. E is of the opinion that either brochette de lomo or bife de lomo is best. Me? I'm a simple girl. I just love me a good Entraña (jugoso, por favor).
Argentina, we're missing you already.
Sadly, we're almost done with Argentina. More details and photos to come. But, since we've stamped out of Argentina except for our last visit before our return flight from EZE, and we now have Uruguayan Pesos in our wallets, I need to take a moment to remember the small things about Argentina before I forget them.
Amazing coffee. Oh, how I will miss thee. In some ways, Argentina takes the coffee ritual even more seriously than Italy or France. I never saw a single person walk up and order a shot (or double or triple) of espresso just to shoot it, pay, and leave. Always, there was a pause. A seat, even if just on a bar stool. Sipping and Savoring. And of course, a longer pause that is entirely outside of the consumer's control for the server to return and collect payment. The way we saw it, unless you find yourself in a Restaurante Auto-Servicio (which is a cafeteria monster with lines and trays you slide along like school), Servers control access to the change and receipts, not the person running the cash register.
Agua con gas, you are easy to find at home. I already stock it in our fridge, but I'm thinking I will try to continue its part in my daily routine (thereby replacing many diet cokes).
Palmitos. Oh dear. I can't believe this vegetable has been missing from my life for so long. After its discovery, I tried to eat it at least once a day, always just with olive oil and balsamic vinegar. Apparently, according to the server I asked, they farm them in Argentina, which is why they are ubiquitous (i.e. they grow sustainable multi-stemmed plants and selectively harvest instead of killing wild palms by harvesting the single stem). Yay! Guilt free deliciousness. Too bad the only state in the US where they are farmed is Hawaii. More investigation will occur.
Roxette. They are huge here. Unlike most Americans, I was a big fan back in the day, and I listened to their cassette tape incessantly. So, in Argentina, I often find myself singing along in taxis, on the overnight buses, etc. I blend.
80s revival. Clothes. Music. Everywhere. Is this true in the US as well?
Hoarding of change and small bills. Metamatt warned us, but it's still shocking. So let's say you are lucky enough to find an ATM with cash, but you don't get small denominations. Well, merchants will refuse to do business if they think the bills presented are too large for the transaction. Vendors sell stacks of change at the bus terminal in Buenos Aires and call it out as you walk by Hay Moneda! Hay Moneda!. On several occasions I have walked away from a purchase in surprise due to the rejection of my 100 peso or 50 peso bill. The economic forces at play are mind-boggling.
General inefficiency. Yesterday I shocked myself by thinking that the municpial bus system in Bariloche was less efficient than *BOTH* the Italian and the Mexican solutions to the same problem. I can honestly say I'm unaware of thinking that about anything else. Ever.
Airport trade-offs. After this trip, I will have taken more flights in close succession from Aeroparque than from any other airport in the world. This is not by choice, it's just that most flights within the country are on spokes of a wheel that centers on Aeroparque. As promised, the security line is usually super-speedy and reasonable. For example, I watched them let a teacher with a collection of rounded-tipped scissors through after a brief questioning, although I did get a 5 minute questioning on my facial powder on one occasion -- rather than upset me, it made me smile -- good point! Why aren't they looking for large amounts of contained powders? (Now I've done it...) No matter what I'd been told, however, the time saved in security was easily replaced by other inconveniences. Instead of jetways or good old fashioned walking on the tarmac, on multiple occasions, we have exited airport gates, to wait for a bus to slowly load and spasticly transport about half of the passengers (and their luggage) 50 meters so we can slowly disembark and walk the last 20 meters to the stairs (while the other half load the plane in front of us or the bus behind us). On one occasion, a driver revved the engine multiple times but failed to move until the exasperated driver in the bus behind him exited, tapped on his window and explained how to put it in first and release the clutch while all of us passengers looked on. Often the airport bus does not start, it does not have air conditioning, or the bus doors do not open properly. On one flight, after disembarking the bus, passengers were simultaneously told to board the front stairs and the rear stairs of our MD-88 -- no thought was given to which entrance should be used by passengers assigned to which seats, so, after E and I took the rear stairs to our seats in the rear of the plane, we got to enjoy the show for 15 minutes while folks fought their way past each other for access to their seats and luggage space.
10 minutes means the same thing as 15 minutes or 20 minutes. AKA, "sometime in the next hour."
Baked empanadas. (Read: not fried). E tried to eat these every day.
Provoleta -- or, let's take some local provolone cheese and brush it with olive oil, top it with herbs and grill it. Or better yet, let's add some tomatoes and onions and make provoleta a la napoletana. In honor of which genius should I build an altar?
And steak. Great steak. Oh, how I have loved thee. E is of the opinion that either brochette de lomo or bife de lomo is best. Me? I'm a simple girl. I just love me a good Entraña (jugoso, por favor).
Argentina, we're missing you already.
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