So....yeah. Been a long time. Sorry about that. Life went and got crazy there at the end of the semester, in ways I never, ever, want to experience again. Ever. Not that I have any control over it, but I'm just saying. And then....right, a couple of days after I finished my last exam I left for the summer gallivant. (I don't think that's a noun, but I'm making it one.) Said gallivant began with a few days vising the brother and his affianced in NYC, highlights of which include a trip to the Met, a shopping trip with the aforementioned affianced (I'm not that big on shopping, but it was actually a good time), a trip to visit a childhood chum who's now at Princeton being brilliant, and a night at the pool hall with the aforementioned brother. If I remember correctly, I kicked his ass. I also attempted a couple of shots made while lying on top of the table...they didn't go well. Those tables were just too big. Or "regulation size"...anyway...
From the big apple I went to Bulgaria where I spent two weeks on a dig in the southwestern town of Sandanski. Highlights from the dig: digging in the dirt; unexpectedly working on my German, as it was the only common language for me and the director of the dig; a tiny blue glass handle I found; a day trip to Philippi; a night trip to the disco in Sandanski, where it is the Cool Thing to Do to buy a platter full of napkins (for about $7), which you then throw into the air (yes this is in fact exactly as silly as it sounds); the farewell drink...at 10 in the morning....
So that was a good time. At the end of the two weeks, we drove back up to Sofia (the capital) where I met up with my dear mother and my dear cousin. We three rented a car for the weekend and took a road trip through the southwestern part of the country. There were too many moments of awesomeness to enumerate here, but the main thing is the yoghurt. I later learned that the dear cousin didn't enjoy it, but I blame this on her being unaccustomed to the taste of plain yoghurt. This yoghurt will change your life. In the little town of Melnik (where we spied on wedding celebrations, visited a museum and wine-tasting place, and saw a donkey tied up in the dried up river bed that runs through the middle of town) we went to a little shop on what I assume is the main square, and had plain sheep's milk yoghurt, which came served in those cups they use for sundaes. It was thick but not chunky, soft and velvety and delicious and I will never think of yoghurt the same way again. I had previously believed that Greek yoghurt was the best ever hands down. And there is much to be said for Greek yoghurt with Greek honey eaten in Greece, which is just one of those things that can't be matched. But this yoghurt, all by itself, in this tiny village, was utterly blissful.
So there's the yoghurt. And the 12th c. church in the village of Dobarsko where Jesus looks like he's ascending in a rocket ship, where we met a group of women (a mother, her two daughters, their two cousins) who translated the description of the frescoes for us, and invited us to go on a walk to a waterfall, and to stay with them when we come back.
And then the time when we almost drove to Macedonia because we missed a sign for Sofia and were so distracted by the beautiful sunset that we didn't realize that it should have been on the other side of the world, according to the direction we thought we were going. That was fun.
Oh, and the 'doughnuts' and bread made by the monks at the Rila monastery, nestled in the mountains with its beautiful frescoes and interesting architecture (and a set of horns from some animal that greet you as you walk through the entrance). And the pan-fried trout at the restaurant by the river on the way back down the mountains from Rila.
And the village of Kovachevitsa, a world heritage site, I believe, which is teeny-tiny, at the end of the most beautiful drive through the mountains I think I've ever been on, home to the only restaurant in Bulgaria with good service, I'm pretty sure. The food was great too, especially the homemade elderberry juice, and the baklava...yum.
And, well, everything else was great too...but this is getting a bit long, and my memory is a bit fuzzy, and it was only a two day trip, so those are the main things. Basically, if you ever have the slightest chance to go to Bulgaria, do it. It's beautiful, and full of beautiful things. And good yoghurt.
After a few days traveling on my own to Plovdiv and back to Sofia, I went to Munich to visit family, where I really didn't do much but visit family, read a bit of Greek, and read Harry Potter 7 auf Deutsch, which was big fun. We had a grand old time going on bike rides and to lakes and eating white-sausage and celebrating birthdays and so forth.
Munich was followed by a couple of weeks in Donauwoerth with a dear friend, where I read a bit more Greek, a lot more Harry Potter, ate delicious cakes, and hung out. We went to Italy over the weekend. It was beautiful.
After a few more days in Munich, I went back to NYC, went to the Met again, and came home to Mpls, fixed the car (in part) and drove down to Tulsa Town to visit the fam down there, which was good. It was in the middle of a heat wave, so...y'know, that was hot. Back to Spfd, where the car got fixed for real, I wrote the paper that had been hanging over my head all summer after the hellish end o' semester, and I worked in the real world at the bookstore for a couple of weeks.
Back in MN, the cultural discovery of the summer has been topped off with the lumberjack sports and food on a stick at the State Fair. Good times were had by all.
And school starts next week. I'll be auditing Akkadian. I'm pretty excited.
So there's the summer in a nutshell. It's been a bit hectic, but quite a good one, as summers go. Here are some pics from the road trip, with a couple other things thrown in there.
Saturday, August 30, 2008
Saturday, April 12, 2008
confessions of a mcdonald's customer
Hi folks. Sorry it's been awhile...this semester has been way way way more work than I was expecting, and yet I never seem to get anything done. Strange.
Anyway, yesterday I had one of those experiences that you don't necessarily think much of at the time but then it keeps coming back to you and won't leave you alone. I was walking down the street in Dinkytown on the way to school, when a woman approached me and asked for a quarter for the bus. She was wearing shoes with no socks, and clearly isn't doing too well financially. I gave her a dollar, not having any change, and thought I'd done my good deed for the day (which rarely gets done, unfortunately) and went on. I was feeling not terribly well, hadn't slept much, and hadn't had breakfast, so I felt the need for a greasy breakfast sandwich and coffee, and stopped into McDonald's. As I was waiting for my order to come up, the woman who had asked me for a quarter came in and asked for a hamburger. It being 8 in the morning, they only had the breakfast menu, so no dollar menu hamburgers. At this point my food came and I left. As I was walking away, I thought I heard her ask if they had anything for a dollar. I kept walking.
I could easily have given her another dollar, or bought her breakfast with my debit card. But I just walked away, pretending that I hadn't seen her or realized that she'd asked for a quarter so she could eat, partly because I didn't want to embarrass her by offering to buy her breakfast. And maybe that was the best thing to do. Maybe a dollar is enough to give a person. If I were the person I wish I were, I would have bought her pancakes and a coffee and hashbrowns and whatever else she wanted, and sat down to eat with her. But I didn't. I guess that's just the way it goes.
Anyway, yesterday I had one of those experiences that you don't necessarily think much of at the time but then it keeps coming back to you and won't leave you alone. I was walking down the street in Dinkytown on the way to school, when a woman approached me and asked for a quarter for the bus. She was wearing shoes with no socks, and clearly isn't doing too well financially. I gave her a dollar, not having any change, and thought I'd done my good deed for the day (which rarely gets done, unfortunately) and went on. I was feeling not terribly well, hadn't slept much, and hadn't had breakfast, so I felt the need for a greasy breakfast sandwich and coffee, and stopped into McDonald's. As I was waiting for my order to come up, the woman who had asked me for a quarter came in and asked for a hamburger. It being 8 in the morning, they only had the breakfast menu, so no dollar menu hamburgers. At this point my food came and I left. As I was walking away, I thought I heard her ask if they had anything for a dollar. I kept walking.
I could easily have given her another dollar, or bought her breakfast with my debit card. But I just walked away, pretending that I hadn't seen her or realized that she'd asked for a quarter so she could eat, partly because I didn't want to embarrass her by offering to buy her breakfast. And maybe that was the best thing to do. Maybe a dollar is enough to give a person. If I were the person I wish I were, I would have bought her pancakes and a coffee and hashbrowns and whatever else she wanted, and sat down to eat with her. But I didn't. I guess that's just the way it goes.
Saturday, February 23, 2008
Last night I went with a dear friend to a place called Moscow on the Hill, a pricier-than-most-but-worth-every-penny kind of place, where we shared a flight of excellent vodka (the one from Estonia was probably the best, though France, Poland, and Sweden were delicious), had escargot (for the first time - who knew snails could be so delicious), really good entrees, and to top it all off, blintzi for desert. Kindof like crepes, but much smaller, filled with some sort of delicious thick cream, dried fruit, and nuts, with chocolate sauce over the top, served warm. The waiter said the tiramisu is better than any Italian restaurant around, so I'll definitely be going back, if only for vodka and desert.
After dinner, we went to see Charlie Wilson's War. Not realizing this was by Aaron Sorkin (I've been getting into West Wing of late), I didn't know quite what to expect, and good grief it was good. The irony of eating at a Russian restaurant and then going to a movie in which there is frequent mention of trying to kill Russians did not escape me.
It seems more and more I am realizing how much I don't understand present reality. Though relatively well-educated and well-traveled, I know very little about the world and how it functions. I don't understand war or why it happens in the least. And I find myself thinking that things would be a lot better if we still did things like this as they did in the old days...no long range weapons beyond bow and arrow and javelin, no fighting in winter, and political leaders and those instigating the war earned their positions of power, in part at least, through their prowess in battle, and continued (as I understand it) to go to war themselves. Not that there was no brutality or horror. Far from it. But it was much more up close and personal that I understand it to be these days, and perhaps that kept something of a check on things. Or maybe it didn't. As I said, I don't understand such matters. I don't think I ever will. You should see the movie. It's a bit depressing, and quite good.
After dinner, we went to see Charlie Wilson's War. Not realizing this was by Aaron Sorkin (I've been getting into West Wing of late), I didn't know quite what to expect, and good grief it was good. The irony of eating at a Russian restaurant and then going to a movie in which there is frequent mention of trying to kill Russians did not escape me.
It seems more and more I am realizing how much I don't understand present reality. Though relatively well-educated and well-traveled, I know very little about the world and how it functions. I don't understand war or why it happens in the least. And I find myself thinking that things would be a lot better if we still did things like this as they did in the old days...no long range weapons beyond bow and arrow and javelin, no fighting in winter, and political leaders and those instigating the war earned their positions of power, in part at least, through their prowess in battle, and continued (as I understand it) to go to war themselves. Not that there was no brutality or horror. Far from it. But it was much more up close and personal that I understand it to be these days, and perhaps that kept something of a check on things. Or maybe it didn't. As I said, I don't understand such matters. I don't think I ever will. You should see the movie. It's a bit depressing, and quite good.
Saturday, February 16, 2008
μεν...δε
Hokay...so. Here's the earth.
No not really. I'm at school, realizing once again just how much reading of Greek and English I have to do in the next week, and somehow thinking that it's more important that I share this joke with the world at large...or at least the minuscule portion of it that might read this blog. Ready? Okay.
During his coursework in grad school, a classicist became increasingly interested in the Greek men...de construction, which is used to balance or contrast two ideas. (It is often translated as on the one hand...on the other hand..., but it's much more elegant in Greek.) So this guy decided to write his dissertation on the men...de construction, and in so doing focused more and more on the de part of things. He got his PhD, published several articles and a book on de, got a job in a very well respected classics department, and was known throughout the world as the preeminent de scholar. Shortly after he was hired, he met a beautiful, intelligent young woman, and fell instantly in love. Unfortunately, she was the daughter of his department chair. Unable to put aside his feelings, he approached the chair and confessed that he had fallen in love with her daughter. The chair was fond of the young man, said that she didn't see a problem, and would talk to her daughter about it. She spoke with her daughter that night, reminded her of the young man, and his fame as a scholar of de. Her daughter, who had also been interested in the young man but was too shy to approach him, responded, "This is wonderful! After all, I know a lot about men."
And...back to work.
No not really. I'm at school, realizing once again just how much reading of Greek and English I have to do in the next week, and somehow thinking that it's more important that I share this joke with the world at large...or at least the minuscule portion of it that might read this blog. Ready? Okay.
During his coursework in grad school, a classicist became increasingly interested in the Greek men...de construction, which is used to balance or contrast two ideas. (It is often translated as on the one hand...on the other hand..., but it's much more elegant in Greek.) So this guy decided to write his dissertation on the men...de construction, and in so doing focused more and more on the de part of things. He got his PhD, published several articles and a book on de, got a job in a very well respected classics department, and was known throughout the world as the preeminent de scholar. Shortly after he was hired, he met a beautiful, intelligent young woman, and fell instantly in love. Unfortunately, she was the daughter of his department chair. Unable to put aside his feelings, he approached the chair and confessed that he had fallen in love with her daughter. The chair was fond of the young man, said that she didn't see a problem, and would talk to her daughter about it. She spoke with her daughter that night, reminded her of the young man, and his fame as a scholar of de. Her daughter, who had also been interested in the young man but was too shy to approach him, responded, "This is wonderful! After all, I know a lot about men."
And...back to work.
Friday, February 1, 2008
Wednesday, January 9, 2008
what the devil?
So the other day I was at work here in good ol' Springfield, MO, and glancing out the windows in the front it seemed that the weather had turned a bit to the nasty side, after two days of 70+ temperatures. Turned out there was a string of severe thunderstorms/tornadoes heading straight through Springfield and the surrounding area. In January. Thankfully, no one I know was injured, or had damage beyond a few downed tree limbs, but for christ's sake. It's January. Tornadoes belong in August, maybe July or September, but this is just ridiculous. So we sat up for awhile once I got home playing Scrabble and listening to sirens and watching storms just barely miss us, woke up at 2:30 and went down to the basement (which, we realized later, would be pretty useless if something did happen, because we have no blankets, food, or water down there, and were in our pajamas) and stayed until around 3:30 I'm guessing, during which time I heard the loudest wind I've ever heard in my life, and for the first time actually ran downstairs because I thought for a brief moment that things might actually start flying away (at least the windows were rattling quite a bit). So we sat in the basement and I tried to play guitar (that was what I grabbed...weird) and then the power went out. It came back about 8 the next day, so that wasn't too bad. And after the power came back on and I had breakfast and so forth, my dear old dad mentioned that one of the tornadoes had touched down and basically followed a road that runs a little less than a mile north of my house.
So...that was interesting. In other news, the Chicago APA meeting pretty much rocked my socks off. I got the landmark Herodotus (it's like a study bible, only for Herodotus, with lots of maps and pretty pictures and references and other sweetness) for $10 ($10!!!), heard some good papers, saw some old friends, ate some good Indian food, and generally had a grand time.
And...there was something else I was going to say. Oh, right. Missouri...every time I leave, or rather, every time I get into a discussion with people from the northland that fervently believe Missouri is the south, I tend to forget the distinctive accent you find here. I maintain that it is not southern, nor is Missouri in the south. Instead, I would say that Missouri is at the crossroads between Midwest, South, West, and Great Plains. The culture is well reflected in the accent we tend to have here, which I would term "hick", if I can do that in a non-offensive way (both to hicks and non-hicks). It is an accent that has not taken over my speech, thanks to my parents being from various other parts of the country and my having traveled a fair amount and thereby neutralized my accent for the most part. But it is fun, every so often, to return to what I suppose are the closest things to roots I will ever have and indulge in the twangy drawl that I find so endearing.
On that note, I should do some Hebrew...tata.
So...that was interesting. In other news, the Chicago APA meeting pretty much rocked my socks off. I got the landmark Herodotus (it's like a study bible, only for Herodotus, with lots of maps and pretty pictures and references and other sweetness) for $10 ($10!!!), heard some good papers, saw some old friends, ate some good Indian food, and generally had a grand time.
And...there was something else I was going to say. Oh, right. Missouri...every time I leave, or rather, every time I get into a discussion with people from the northland that fervently believe Missouri is the south, I tend to forget the distinctive accent you find here. I maintain that it is not southern, nor is Missouri in the south. Instead, I would say that Missouri is at the crossroads between Midwest, South, West, and Great Plains. The culture is well reflected in the accent we tend to have here, which I would term "hick", if I can do that in a non-offensive way (both to hicks and non-hicks). It is an accent that has not taken over my speech, thanks to my parents being from various other parts of the country and my having traveled a fair amount and thereby neutralized my accent for the most part. But it is fun, every so often, to return to what I suppose are the closest things to roots I will ever have and indulge in the twangy drawl that I find so endearing.
On that note, I should do some Hebrew...tata.
Monday, December 3, 2007
snow and other such things
Well friends, I've made a fool of myself giving my presentation for my big crazy paper which I cannot get excited about, but at least it's over, and I didn't die or burst into tears.
In other news, it snowed. Not too much. Just enough that driving was slightly exciting over the weekend, and I discovered a new ritual, an aspect of life in Minnesota that somehow I find fantastic. This is the plow-parking ritual. I don't know the ins and outs of it, but they plow certain streets at night, and then you move your car before 8 a.m. so they can plow the other streets during the day. I, of course, forgot this was going to happen, so I went out to my car about 7:50, when I was reminded by my roommate, who is responsible (unlike myself), going out to her car. I walked outside and down the street and saw people all over going to their cars, scraping off ice and snow, being Minnesotan. And I smiled and said to myself, "damn, it's cold" and regretted leaving my gloves inside.
As I was driving home from school on Saturday, which was the day of the snowfall, I was reminded of the one day it snowed in Rennes all those many moons ago...it never got too terribly cold in Rennes, since it's somewhat near to England, which tries to pawn its weather off onto Brittany. It did rain most of the winter, though, and wet cold is cold-cold. One glorious wonderful day, however, it snowed. All of five inches or so. Which caused the buses to stop, shops to close, people to drive about 3 miles an hour, and me to laugh heartily, before running off to make snow angels and drink hot cocoa and walk through the park with my friends. With that in mind, I was amazed at the effects of snow on people living in the twin cities...normally, I drive on a Saturday and think, at least once, usually more, that people just don't freaking know how to drive. When it snows, however, it seems people become much better drivers. I guess it makes sense...but still I think it's kindof funny.
Well, I think that's more than enough out of me. Moral of the story: I heart snow. Oh, other moral of the story: www.freerice.com Go here, play a fun word game, give free rice to people. You'll be glad you did. And if you're not, well...then I'll be hornswaggled.
In other news, it snowed. Not too much. Just enough that driving was slightly exciting over the weekend, and I discovered a new ritual, an aspect of life in Minnesota that somehow I find fantastic. This is the plow-parking ritual. I don't know the ins and outs of it, but they plow certain streets at night, and then you move your car before 8 a.m. so they can plow the other streets during the day. I, of course, forgot this was going to happen, so I went out to my car about 7:50, when I was reminded by my roommate, who is responsible (unlike myself), going out to her car. I walked outside and down the street and saw people all over going to their cars, scraping off ice and snow, being Minnesotan. And I smiled and said to myself, "damn, it's cold" and regretted leaving my gloves inside.
As I was driving home from school on Saturday, which was the day of the snowfall, I was reminded of the one day it snowed in Rennes all those many moons ago...it never got too terribly cold in Rennes, since it's somewhat near to England, which tries to pawn its weather off onto Brittany. It did rain most of the winter, though, and wet cold is cold-cold. One glorious wonderful day, however, it snowed. All of five inches or so. Which caused the buses to stop, shops to close, people to drive about 3 miles an hour, and me to laugh heartily, before running off to make snow angels and drink hot cocoa and walk through the park with my friends. With that in mind, I was amazed at the effects of snow on people living in the twin cities...normally, I drive on a Saturday and think, at least once, usually more, that people just don't freaking know how to drive. When it snows, however, it seems people become much better drivers. I guess it makes sense...but still I think it's kindof funny.
Well, I think that's more than enough out of me. Moral of the story: I heart snow. Oh, other moral of the story: www.freerice.com Go here, play a fun word game, give free rice to people. You'll be glad you did. And if you're not, well...then I'll be hornswaggled.
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