Cool cheesecake discovery

Have I ever posted my cheesecake recipe?  No?  Well, here it is, with tips at the end, AND A NEW TRICK I LEARNED!  Yes, I’m YELLING!  It’s COOL!  (Almost as cool as when Brittany taught me something about shampoo.)

Marble Cheesecake

Ingredients:

1 cup crushed graham crackers

3 tablespoons melted butter

4 (8 oz.) packages softened cream cheese

1 ¼ cups sugar

4 eggs

2 tablespoons orange-flavored liqueur or orange juice

1 teaspoon grated orange peel

½ cup semi-sweet chocolate

1 ½ tablespoons instant coffee granules

  1. Preheat oven to 375F.
  2. Combine crushed crackers and butter.  Press into bottom of ungreased 9-inch springform pan.  Bake at 375F for 10 minutes. Cool on wire rack.
  3. Reduce oven temperature to 325F.
  4. In large bowl, beat softened cream cheese at medium speed of electric mixer until smooth and creamy.  Add sugar; mix well.  At medium speed, add eggs 1 at a time, beating just until blended.  Add orange liqueur and orange peel; mix well.
  5. Melt chocolate chips over low heat; stir in coffee granules; blend well.  Reserve 1 ½ cups batter; mix with chocolate mixture.  Pour remaining batter into crumb-lined pan.  Drop spoonfuls of chocolate batter onto light batter.  With table knife, swirl gently through batters to marbleize.
  6. Bake at 325F about 60 minutes or until center is set.  Cool 10 minutes on wire rack.  With sharp long knife, carefully cut around outside of cake.  Remove sides of pan; cool completely on wire rack.
  7. Cover with plastic wrap.  Refrigerate several hours or overnight.

Graham crackers: I crush 1 package (8 pieces, or 16 squares) of graham crackers.

Butter: I melt an entire stick (1/2 lb) of butter.
Cream cheese: remove the cream cheese from the packages and let it sit in a mixing bowl for several hours.  The softer it gets, the easier it is to beat, and the smoother it gets.
Sugar: you can cut this down to 1 cup of sugar.
Orange: I grate the peel of an orange and mix about 1 teaspoon with the graham cracker crumbs to bake in the crust and stir the rest into the cheesecake batter.  I also squeeze the juice from half of the orange into the batter.

Baking: using a water bath helps prevent the cheesecake from cracking.  If there are two racks in your oven, I recommend setting one rack in the middle and another rack just below it.  The top rack will be for the cheesecake; the bottom rack will be for a pan of water.  Use a Pyrex or other glass pan (11×7 is fine) and fill about halfway up with water.  Set it on the bottom rack when you preheat the oven, and it’ll heat up and be ready to keep the cheesecake moist as it bakes.

Marble: I alternate putting spoonfuls of chocolate and original cheesecake batter in the pan so that the rest of it is marbled, too, and not just the top.  This is a personal preference thing.

To tell if the cheesecake is ready, jiggle it a little.  If it looks pretty firm, you’re fine.  If it’s not firm enough (a lot of jiggle), but it’s already starting to crack, just turn off the oven but leave the cheesecake in there a little longer.  After you take it out and let it cool for several hours, refrigerate it overnight.
Exciting new tip!  Somayeh was a little impatient and wanted to try it right away.  Here’s what we discovered: cheesecake slices very cleanly if you do so while it’s still hot.  (But you should still let it chill before eating–it tastes better that way!)

How to get a boyfriend

How does one get a boyfriend?  Try not to make boys cry.  Last night, I went out dancing with a friend from lab and her two friends.  Not being in the sort of mood to smile and make nice with random bro-tastic Columbus denizens, I was a little harsher than was absolutely necessary when approached.  This is why I don’t have a boyfriend.

Caveat: I do realize that many people go to bar/danceclubs to meet a collaborator in a one-night stand.  It’s a hot dog and hamburger market out there, kids.  In knowingly going to a place like that, I realize that I am placing myself right in the thick of it.  That’s fine.  I just also reserve the right to accede to or deny a proposition, invitation, or condemnation.

  1. My friends and I were on the dancefloor when a muscle-y man in a hat approached and try to insinuate himself into our group.  I gave him a couple minutes, then made fun of his shirt and his team.  We had a football game against his school yesterday in which we beat them resoundingly, which was the expected outcome anyway.  Sidebar: it’s very interesting to me that at this kind of venue (multiple bars + patio + dancefloor), you’ll see people hella dressed down (football jerseys and tattered jeans), people in “picnic wear” (I was wearing a sundress), and people in glitz and glam (men in ties, women in gowns), all in one place.
  2. A friend of the muscle-y man from above was dressed in the uniform of Bros everywhere from Park St. in Columbus to the Marina District in San Francisco: khakis and a sky blue polo.  He was all up on me (yeah, that terminology is required.  Please.), so I shot him a skeptical look, to which he asked me, “What?”  I patted his shoulder and said, “Well, it’s cute that you tried.”
  3. Two of us were dancing when a young man/boy approached and tried to dance with us.  Avoiding any sort of eye contact with him for 5 minutes, we just danced and enjoyed ourselves without any sort of acknowledgment that he was in our presence.  Nay, he was not in our presence. A melodramatic statement has to be italicized, ok?  He slunk away.
  4. One of my friends almost ran into someone, so I made a surprised/apologetic face at him.  He said, “Oh, come on now, you gotta make a better face than that!  Show me your best face!”  I told him, “Please, you’d have to be much better to see my best face.”  While this could be prelude to flirtation, I ignored him thereafter so he finally had to stop talking.  Later, when I was sitting at a table with one of the girls, he tried to approach again, but my friend humored him a little, so I didn’t make him cry any further.
  5. While sitting at the table, a guy from the same group as #4 came over.  I mentioned the Bro uniform earlier.  This group was all wearing plaid shirts.  True story.  At any rate, this guy leaned in and asked conspiratorially, “Why aren’t you ladies dancing?”  I asked him, “Why are you talking to us?”  He tried to say something about a friend and a birthday, but I looked past him so he had to walk away.

I don’t tell these stories to “show off trophies”–I don’t even really feel like they’re trophies.  It is rude of me to treat other human beings this way, and I fully realize it’s bad dating karma.  These small interactions here and there do give me small measures of inner satisfaction when I can giggle and think, “Zing!”  Furthermore, none of them actually cried.

Fucktard of the night: Some girl in an LBD took a beer bottle and whacked it against the side of the table repeatedly until it broke.  Then she giggled.  Five minutes later, she was doing it again while her friends watched.  WTF, are you 5???  We had a lab barbecue yesterday, two little girls (roughly 16-months old) came, and I would have expected that kind of behavior from them, but not at a bar!  (Well, not this kind of bar.)  Another woman went off on the beer-bottle-wielding girl.  It was a musing.

The one boy I didn’t make cry asked permission to sit down at our table (near the dancefloor) while he was waiting/looking for his friend.  He seemed a little befuddled and completely out of his element, so I didn’t mind talking to him a bit.  Eventually, the conversation turned toward Jack Kerouac and Buddhism.  Right.

Yes, so the above is why I don’t have a boyfriend.  Which I’m not okay with these days, incidentally.  Er, it’s fine to repel the uninteresting ones.  But, I find myself seeking more long-term companionship these days, I’m frustrated that I can’t just rely on myself for my happiness, and I’m even more frustrated that I have chosen to get involved with guys who were a) pretty upfront about being unavailable (no, they’re not married–what do you take me for!?) or b) not someone with whom I felt tingles.

It’s a process.

Summer 2010

Summer at OSU is from mid-June to late September, so it’s about time to have a little mid-summer check-in.  The official rules dictate that I get three weeks off, although many people just research the whole time…and some people take whatever time off they feel like, mentally.

Summer is for sports, barbecues, fireworks, friends, and family.  Summer is steamy, bright, and fleeting.  Summer is adventures, journeys, and…lab.  That being said, here’s what’s gone down and what’s on deck.

-PoD barbecue.  Everyone contributed, and there was a great sense of unity to kick off the summer.  Burgers, kebabs, guacamole, salsa, cake, cold drinks.  Life was good.

-Late nights.  So what else is new.

-The Columbus Zoo.  I saw a lot of bears :D

-Sports!  Cal Rugby was in town, but fell in the championship match to Utah, which is now part of the Pac-10.  Craziness.  I also went to an Indians game (@Cincinnati Reds); Cincinnati was sweltering and hosted a Justin Bieber concert that same night, neither of which eased the pain of a Cleveland loss.  Speaking of a Cleveland loss…

-Sports craziness!  The World Cup has taken the world (ha ha) by storm, Lebron James singlehandedly revived the media industry (if it needed to be revived in the first place), and we were unsurprisingly disappointed by his departure.

-Lab: I joined a permanent lab at the beginning of the summer.  This should be my home for the next 5 years.

On deck:

-More sports: I’ll be going to an Indians game (in Cleveland) with some lovely ladies of the Dooce Comm.  I’d also like to go to at least one Columbus Clippers game this summer.  It seems like a really nice ballpark.  Cal Football!

-Going home: I’ll be watching a Cal Football game when I go home this summer.  I guess going to a football game is a true sign of autumn, but I’ll still be on summer vacation.  On my way home, I’ll stop by Denver to see Katie and…

-Mile High Music Festival: so. excited.  As you know, I’m not so good at la musique.  So, that brings me to one more goal for this post.

-Music: I’m going to try to listen to at least one song per artist/group in the lineup at least once before going to Denver.  Yay, summer project :D

This wasn’t a particularly thoughtful treatise on anything, but is a nice reminder of summertime fun.  More to come.

Small World

I met Julia the summer after freshman year of high school.  We were the Goodrich Girls.  I met Mike sometime in late high school.  He was the year below me, and our paths sometimes crossed.  I met Sam in college.  We were both microbiologists, and we graduated together.

Now, Sam knows Mike, because they’ll be attending grad school together.  And, in jumping from Sam’s Fbook to Mike’s fbook, I discovered that Mike also knows Julia!  Thank you, Fbook, for making it so easy to creep.  Rest assured this will not become a lengthy diatribe on the creep potential of Fbook; I have embraced its creepiness since 2005 and have not yet given it up.  Ohioans like their cigarettes, and I like my Facebook.

But take care of your privacy, kids!  Once it’s out there, you can’t get it back!  Check your privacy settings and don’t complain about a service you choose to use!  This is why you can no longer tell simply from reading my profile that I am a female interested in men.  Apparently, there wasn’t much informative data from my profile in the first place.

Far be it for me to compose a blog post without some rambling.  Let’s talk missed connections.  If I had but arrived in the world one year earlier, I would have gotten to know my mom’s cousin, the one who was like her protective older brother, the one who promised to take me everywhere.  If my parents had chosen the Bay Area instead of Cleveland, I would have experienced the ’89 earthquake firsthand.  If I had moved to Boston after graduation, I would be seeing Tiffany and Stephanie all the time.  Because I missed all these connections, I was busy making others.

Going on Loveboat led to Pit of Doom four years later.  Going to CTD led to New York and Boston extravaganzas eight years later.  The connections are there.  I marvel at how many people that I know also know each other.  Still, this pales in comparison to all the people I have yet to know, and I question how much I’ll remember in the future, how meaningful my interactions are today, and how deep friendships run.  People often let friendships lapse, but I operate from the assumption that friendships can be resumed and rejuvenated.  I refuse to let periods of inactivity void significant relationships…but perhaps I just can’t let go.

Who doesn’t like cute high school photos?  Sadies from my senior year of high school.  Aww we were so young.  Oh, wait, I haven’t changed.

Hair Today

I forgot to mention that my journal entries are entitled, “Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow.”  Ha!

From http://vanityhair.shutterfly.com/139:

February 21, 2010
Alright, so I didn’t intentionally do this to my hair.  And to be quite honest, I’m not sure how to replicate it.  But, I must have slept kind of funny, because I woke up to find half my hair wavy; the other half, its natural state of straight.  Like, must-be-closeted-because-its-homophobia-is-overcompensating straight.

1. It looks like it’s loosened, like a morning-after hair curled with a curling iron.

2. It’s actually wavy!

3. I tried to take a picture of the back of my head; you can kind of see the ends and how they’re different on each side, but this is not a great picture.

4. Also, it looks like I have two bald spots.  So, let’s stick to the pictures from the front, shall we?  This is several hours later.  I couldn’t believe it was still wavy!  And the other side is, you know, the usual.

How do I connect my Internet identities?

Some things should remain anonymous.  But, other things are happily connected through such technologies as OpenID.  Well, since I don’t know how to directly import my entries from Vanity Hair, my new Shutterfly share site, I’ll just have to copy/paste for the time being.

Originally from http://vanityfair.shutterfly.com/138:

20 February 2010

Braiding hair is a good way to keep it out of the face and eyes.  And, this style (starts out as a French braid at the hairline across the top of your forehead) can be good for multiple days because the braid is in the front, so it won’t be as mussed if you sleep on your back.  I don’t like to do things with my hair the day of washing, as the dents last until the next washing, so this is good a day or two after.

1. I didn’t think to take pictures until the day after I braided my hair, but even after a full day and night, it seemed socially presentable.

2. But that was just to show you that the rest of the hair didn’t yet look stringy.  Now for a shot of the braided part, which is concealed by how my hair falls in this picture.  (And, in life.  If your hair also has a tendency to fall forward but you want the braid to be constantly visible, then you need to incorporate more hair into the braid.)

3. Again, because this was the day after, I thought about doing something else with it.  How about a high pony?

4. It’s a look that’s perfectly acceptable, but seems more characteristic of a high priestess in a video game or something.  (Note that I have very little experience in video games, so this may not be an accurate description.)  Take it a step further by tucking it into the pony.  But wait, more can be done.

5. Wrap the section of hair (mine is still bundled in the small hair-tie) around the pony-tail holder.

6. Then secure the end underneath the pony-tail with hairpins.

7. Kinda nifty, huh?

Resolved

I’m neither “really good” nor “really bad” at New Years’ Resolutions.  There are years when I fail miserably at what I resolve (e.g., when I told myself to stop wearing socks with holes in them).  This year, I didn’t make any and am only talking about them now…in mid-February.  The only thing that keeps me from thinking I’m “really bad” at resolutions is the fact that I don’t make them every year.  It’s the ultimate defense mechanism- you can’t fail if you didn’t try in the first place.  Or, rather, failure isn’t your fault; it could’ve happened if you’d tried (or believed enough!).

At any rate, Lent just commenced, so I suppose now is as good a time as any to talk about resolutions.  First, I shall pontificate.  Not coming from a Western religion background (or that much Eastern religion, either), I don’t always understand why people uphold these rituals.  I am of the mindset that you should be pious all year long, not just for 40 days, you should honor your parents everyday, not just on Mothers’ Day and Fathers’ Day, and if you’re in love, you should love daily, not just on Valentines’ Day.  As high-minded (or at least high-handed) as that sounds, I realize that maintaining a constant stream of piety and love (constitutive expression, if you will) is difficult and sometimes phony.  Moreover, the peaks aren’t quite as satisfying when not juxtaposed with the valleys.  That is why I’m not completely opposed to these holidays; I just like to spread out the special feelings!

Sharing is caring, my friends, unless we’re talking STDs.  In fact, beware the Ides of February!  Get checked out for any VDs you may have acquired on VDay!  (Unfortunately, I wasn’t quite as clever or witty as I’d like to think.   After I posted this as my Fbook status, Mik looked it up in her Rome book; it turns out that the Ides of February is the 13th.)

And now for resolutions.  I’ve noticed that some of my friends resolved to take a picture a day.  I think that’s a pretty cool project.  I’d like to take more pictures, and this coincided with Shutterfly offering free prints with the creation of a Share Site.  I’ve now created multiple Share Sites simply for the free prints, which might defeat the purpose of the site, because I stop sharing on all except my primary one (Cindy’s Thousand Words), but the newest one is tied into my semi-resolution.  It’s called Vanity Hair (ha  ha I’m punny!), where I will be trying different styles while I still have my long hair and posting pictures of the results.  Right now, the only thing that’s on there is the photoshoot Karen was nice enough to hold just before I got my hair cut the last time.  That was in November 2007…geez, it’s been awhile!  I probably won’t get another haircut for about half a year, though.  I’ll wait until I go back to California for two reasons: my mother’s hairdresser usually does a good job, and that way, I’ll be able to make a longer donation.

A picture to tide you over:

July 4, 2009

Happy Independence Day, america.  Yesterday, we went to temple and my grandparents hired a new servant.  Both should be discussed.

We are Daoist…but also kind of Buddhist.  I asked my grandmother if she learned what we pray to as a child, and she laughed, “Who learns these things?”  So, I really don’t know who knows, and if I were more adept at reading Chinese, I could probably look up the names of deities written beneathe each figure, but I only know maybe one out of every three characters, if that, so it’s a bit impossible.  In high school, I did a group project about Daoism, but reading about the traditions in English is very different from doing things.  The customs are also so engrained culturally that it can vary from region to region and family to family because it’s how you lead your life, not a separate “religion compartment” that you open up to find an instructional manual.

My paternal grandmother told me to “make wishes,” but I find prayer a complex undertaking.  English?  Mandarin?  Taiwanese?  Does it matter?  Putting my desires and aspirations into words feels false, for these thoughts, not typically verbalized, are ill-fitted to my stilted prose.  So, too, are my aspirations prosaic.  If I ask for one “thing” for each member of my immediate familiy, I feel guilty for neglecting my grandparents’ health.  If I rotate through my relatives, who am I to decide what would most benefit each of their lives?  Then, too, if i am judicious in selecting spiritual boons, shouldn’t I concentrate my summoning powers on starving children and war-torn communities?

The whole experience is smoky, from the incense sticks we light to the god money we burn.  You enter from the right-hand door and exit from the left.  The doorways often have raised thresholds, because the gods can float; they don’t need to step over the panel the way we do.  My family takes a rather agnostic approach; my mother laughs a bit at some of the bizarre attributes we ascribe to our deities, but still teaches us the customs because she respects the institution.

Yesterday also saw the advent of a new servant.  JP once made the odd claim that Mongolia is the Mexico of Asia.  Not true.  I think East Asian nations have a relationship with Southeast Asia similar to the US with Mexico.  My grandmother explained to me that, in the early days, Taiwan hired many Filipino laborers.  The problem was that “they liked to go out on weekends, and they didn’t do work on Sundays because they would go to church.”  The labor force thus shifted to the Vietnamese, and I’m not sure if there was any problem with them.  Lee Papa mentioned that Taiwanese men started marrying Vietnamese women, so perhaps households were loathe to exploit “their own.”  At any rate, most workers now come from Indonesia.

Whether motivated by an intent to prevent exploitation or to protect Taiwanese menial laborers, the government passed laws restricting who could hire workers from Southeast Asia.  Households may only do so if someone is elderly or disabled.  Because my grandmother has been having knee troubles, my grandparents have hired a worker to help out around the house.  Two years ago, they had Anda, who was boisterous and claimed girlfriends all over Taiwan.  she ran away with one of them.  Because of the labor laws, they had to wait 6 months; then, the agent brought Lily.  Lily was very delicate and didn’t last very long.  She suffered from depression and went home.  Anda was my age; Lily, a couple years younger.  Yesterday, the agent brought Dina.

The interview with my uncle and his wife ranged from more understandable questions like, “Are you going to run away?” to odd/preposterous pronouncements from the agent, “She only looks dirty because she’s dark.”  the agent didn’t strike me as particularly genuine, sharing details of Dina’s life about which she was quite mistaken.  She tried to assure my family that this would be a good fit, but it became clear that she didn’t know much about Dina.

The entire system is exploitative, but my grandparents do need the help, and they treat their employees with respect and care.  at the same time, I don’t feel comfortable having Dina do things for me, as I’m neither old nor infirm.  I left all my laundry until today to do, so I was about 3/4 done this morning when Dina took over.  (I’m slow.)  It’s the guilt thing again.

She calls my aunt tai-tai (wife, or the Chinese equivalent of Madame), my grandparents Grandma and Grandpa, and me jie-jie (older sister).  Which is cute, but she’s 27, so she’s older than I am.  On the other hand, everyone in my family calls me jie-jie, because my mom’s younger sister is cute and affectionate, and she started calling me that.  So, I guess it’s not really a subservient thing.

My uncle, aunt, and cousin went to Kaoshiung today.  Before he left, my cousin talked to the fish: “I’m leaving now.  You guys be good!”  So cute!

I don’t think I’ve adequately worked through the power structure thing, but I’ll take a break now to share some pictures.

Here’s what a temple looks like.

TempleI didn’t take pictures inside, but I did take pictures of the god money part.

Burning God MoneyThis was the temple we went to with my maternal grandparents.  My dad’s village is in the mountains, and the temple there is set against this backdrop:

Fu HsinIt’s enough to make you feel spiritual, isn’t it?

Should be writing

As always, I turn to blogging when I should be working.  Don’t worry; it’s all to your benefit.  I bring you…more travel tales!  Youki, I’ll do you one better and include pictures when I post to FIT.  I promise.  Onto Day 3:

We had originally planned to go to Rouen on January 3, but rearranged our itinerary and decided to go to the Picasso Museum instead.  (Oh yes, there was quite a bit of itinerary-changing!)  Not so much French this time around.  I think I was too tired/cold when I was writing!

samedi 3 janvier 2009

Tiff needed a hat, so we started at the mall next door.  Auchan opens at 8h30, but the shops don’t open until 10.  Uhh…H&M finally rolled up the gate at 10h07.  Good job, guys.  Off we went…

We wandered around for awhile, searching for the museum.  Because we got off at Châtelet, we passed by Pompidou, so we went in.  There was a HUGE line in the back…for the bathroom.  (That was originally mis-written, and then crossed out.  That’s how tired I was when I wrote this.  I meant the library!)  Right.  We didn’t have museum passes yet, so we browsed a bit and headed out.  Actually, that’s not completely true.  We had just gotten the passes, an adventure in and of itself.  I knew we could go somewhere in Les Halles, possibly at a store?  The information guy [by the way, my handwriting got very sloppy here; I was definitely nodding off as I wrote!] said no, no passes here, but gave us a couple maps.  (Which I used for the rest of the trip, by the way.  Very handy…and slightly ragged by the end!)  I asked at a telephone store.  “Maybe FNCP???”  Turns out, I was close.  FNAC.  It’s a Virgin-like store.

We walked through the free part of Pompidou, then checked out a blindfolded painter in the courtyard.  Across from this glass monstrosity is an ancient cathedral/cloister; the juxtaposition seems so Paris.

Pompidou

Che

Cloitre

I spotted a crêperie en route to the Musée (ok, that’s not hard to do), so I picked up a Nutella one and finished its gooey awesome-ness just as we arrived.  Both the museum and the artwork were pretty cool; in fact, there was a temporary exhibit going on, and when we asked about it at the end, we found out we had been walking through it the whole time.  A contemporary artist had erected huge mirrors and replaced some of the windows with colored panes.  (Other observations previously noted.)

***

[I interrupt myself to note that no, I have not noted my other observations here for the blog.  So, I will delineate my scribbles and perhaps find supporting Internet evidence for some of my favorite pieces...]

  • pic of Diego Giacometti in Musée Picasso
  • Picasso and ace of clubs-why?
  • <<Le Baiser>> 12 janvier 1931
  • <<La Suplicante>> 18 décembre 1937-wardrobe malfunction, missing shoe
  • retrato = portrait (Sp.)
  • I like <<Retrato de Dora Maar>>

Musee Picasso

***

We then met up with Joyce’s friend David underneath a statue of Danton at a Mètro station.  I think we saw a movie about Danton starring Gérard Depardieu in Barnett’s class.  David took us around the Latin Quarter.  We stopped in at a café whose doors, like many French doors, do not swing shut.  You must push them shut.  Later, Tiff and I had Cuban food.  I think I’m bad at picking cocktails–they’re always too sweet.

Latin Quarter

Day Two

As Tiffany mentioned, we stayed at her mom’s friend’s ex-husband’s place right outside of Paris.  So, for future reference, Shu Shu = uncle and Ah Yi = auntie.  For about the first week, I have actual travel journal stories, so I’m just typing out what I wrote in the lovely journal Michelle gave me for Christmas :)

vendredi 2 janvier 2009

Aujourd’hui, nous nous reveillons à 9h45.  Pour le petit-déjeuner, nos hôtes nous offrent du pain, de la confiture des fraises, et 雞肉醬.  [Today, we awoke at 9:45.  For breakfast, our hosts offered us bread, strawberry jam, and "chicken paste."]  The jar wouldn’t open, though, and when I looked at it, I noticed it was <<de grenouilles.>>  That’s not 雞.  That’s 田雞!  (雞=chicken.  田雞=farm chicken=frog!)

Plus important, il neigeait!  [More important, it snowed!]  As we finished eating, the snow stopped falling, and the sun came out.  Before we left, we saw the snow start to melt.

Neige

Nous partons pour le gare.  Aujourd’hui, c’était un voyage plus facile que lequel d’hier, car nous n’avons pas eu nos bagages aujourd’hui.  Nous avons pris le RER C à Champs de Mars pour rendre visite à la  Tour Eiffel.  À midi, la tour était fermée car il faisait trop froid et, comme un officiel nous dit: <<It’s too icy.>>  Tout de même, il y avait un queue long ne bougeant pas.  [We leave for the station.  Today, it was an easier trip than yesterday's, because we didn't have our luggage today.  We took the RER C to Champs de Mars to visit the Eiffel Tower.  At noon, the tower was closed because it was too cold, and, like an official told us, "It's too icy."  All the same, there was a long line, not moving at all.]

Ainsi, nous nous sommes promenées au parc.  Une femme avec hijab nous a approché: <<Do you speak English?>>  Elle voulait de l’argent.  Nous avons pris de photos, de la tour et au mur de paix.  Nous avons marché plus, en passant l’École Militaire, un chocolatier, une libraire, des autres magasins, et beaucoup de cafés.  [And so, we walked around the park.  A woman in hijab approached us: "Do you speak English?"  She wanted money.  We took pictures--of the tower and of the Wall of Peace.  We walked some more, passing the Military School, a chocolatier, a bookstore, more shops, and many cafés.]

Paix

Les immeubles de la rue sont dans un style classique, avec des portes merveilleux.  J’aime bien ces portes.  [The apartment buildings in the street were in a classical style, with marvelous doors.  I really like those doors.]

Immeuble

En retournant à la tour, nous l’avons découverte ouverte, avec des queues tellement longs!  [On returning to the tower, we found it open, with so very long lines!]  There was a pair of girls in front of us around our age from some sort of place with white people that did not speak English, Spanish, or Italian.  They didn’t talk enough for me to figure out what language they were using.  In front of them was an American family; behind us were 3 Midwestern college students, possibly?  (Definitely American, maybe Midwestern.  Sidebar: while in the park, there were 2 little British girls “cantering” around yelling, “Giddy-up!”  Also, many cute little doggies.  Adorable.)

To climb the tower, it costs 3,10 € and many steps.  With the wind blowing, it was quite easy to become short of breath, although the stairs were pretty manageable in height-length ratio.

Gorgeous views of course.  Upon descent, we headed south and walked along Avenue de Suffren, which was mostly residential.  In search of lunch and the métro, we turned onto Motte-Picquet.

Pain au chocolat. Win.  Public telephone.  Lose.  We peered into the booth (3 stuck together in a triangle) and spied no coinslots; only a card slot.  I tried inserting my ATM card, to no avail.

We had to ask the lady at a desk of a hotel for help twice.  The calling card didn’t work.  The guys at a phone shop told us to buy a carte téléphonique at le tabac, which we hadn’t been able to find, but it was INSIDE the café!

Finally, we could call David, but he was on his way to his uncle’s for tea, so we decided to just stick around the area and browse.

Monoprix- amazing!  First floor: clothing, household items, boulanger, pâtisserie.  2nd: grocery store.  Coke is made with sugar, not high fructose corn syrup.

McDonald’s- really popular!?  Many kinds of coffee, breakfast sandwich: bacon & egg sandwich.

We meandered down the street (Commerce), which had many cute shops, at least three Asian buffets, and lights arching over the street.  There was a church at the end.

Eglise

Asian Buffet

We headed back to the métro stop and got home just in time for dinner at 7h30.

*Random observation of the day: Placard on side of l’École Militaire in memory of 743 Jews sent to Auschwitz was rather non-descript.

***

Alright, now for some meta-commentary.  Here are some “dumb American” things on my part: the lady in a hijab?  All the ladies in hijab that I thought were Muslim?  Were probably gypsies.  I never did end up trying the frog paste, even after it was opened (but Tiffany did, so maybe she’ll tell you about it), but I did have snails, ok?

Oh, and David is Joyce’s friend from Princeton who is parisien and was nice enough to show us around (later in the trip).

I’ll post pictures of things at some point.  They have been uploaded to the Internet, but I’m not sure if I want to insert them in blog posts or not.  Anyway, Ashley had greatly recommended Monoprix to me, so I was super excited to check it out (continuously throughout the trip), and since it was across from McDonald’s, we looked at its menu, too.  Also, I believe buffet in the French sense is like “smorgasbord,” or “spread,” rather than “all-you-can-eat.”

I’m visiting Davis this weekend, though, and Allie is lying in bed yelling at me/talking to Sichen, so I should excuse myself.  À bientôt!

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