Sundays in Sarajevo

The tale of the cursed pasta

2012-01-03T20:09:00.001-05:00

Last night, a very sad thing happened. I was ravenous after taking a long run (okay, a short stroll with my dog) and scrubbing the house for New Year's (okay, okay, I forgot the downstairs, the bathrooms, and I didn't vacuum, but whatever). So I made some goat cheese and sundried tomato pasta and I was reallllly excited to chow down. I cleaned up the kitchen, scooped some pasta into a bowl, and decided to grate some fresh pepper on top. I grated to my heart's content, then quickly flipped the grinder to put it back up on the shelf. And the bottom fell off. Annnnnd all the peppercorns fell out.

Into my bowl of pasta.

Well, into my bowl as well as the floor and the counter and the top shelf and the shelf below that. Did I mention we had just refilled the pepper grinder the night before?

I was bummed (and a little annoyed to have to clean some more), but I did the best I could picking out swollen peppercorns in my bowl. "At least," I thought, "I have one more portion to eat tomorrow for lunch."

Oh, hubris, you wiley bitch.

So I go to work with my pasta and my salad and little tupperware of salad dressing and I pile them all in a little stack in the fridge. The fridge is gross, so I tried to squeeze my carrot sticks on top of the pasta, but they wouldn't fit. At 11:30am, I couldn't wait any longer so I went to get my delicious, delicious pasta.

Apparently, our office is full of LUNCH TERRORISTS WHO STEAL LUNCHES. But they leave behind salads and carrot sticks. I put a note up on the fridge that was all light and ha-ha, because maybe -- just maybe -- someone also had a 2-cup snapware container full of goat cheese pasta and they just got mixed up. Two hours later, it hadn't been returned so I put a post-it note on top that said "REWARD: For the safe return of my tupperware, I will offer one snickers bar. No questions asked."

But no luck. That pasta was cursed from the get-go.

In which I should not be allowed to drive.

2011-10-13T22:11:00.002-04:00

I had a meeting in Crystal City today. I don't drive in this area very often, and it can be a bit confusing. I pulled off 395, more concerned with trying to keep up with my coworker's BMW Z4 while I was in my Grandfather's station wagon than actually noticing the street signs. I drove down a four-lane street to our building, parked, attended my meeting, and got back into my vehicle. Since I knew the highway was to my left, it made sense to retrace my steps to the highway, no? I guess it was illogical to think that the aforementioned four lane road WOULD BE ALL ONE WAY.

So I pulled onto a four-lane one-way street, just as a bunch of cars turned onto the street. In a panic, I turned right onto the first available street. Guess what? Also a one-way street. But at least this one was a little round-about deal in front of a hotel, so I wasn't facing 3,496 cars barreling down on top of me. Just one. very. angry. car. So, flapping my arms madly in apology, I maneaurved onto the sidewalk and around him and proceeded up the one-way round-about.

Thinking to myself, "I just have to park! I just have to park!" I tried to pulled into the first available spot. Unfortunately, it was immediately around the curve of the round-about, which was much too steep a turn for my enormous station wagon. I came right over the curb. Okay, so at least I was out of the way of traffic, but the back-half of my vehicle was airborne, and I was in the middle of a busy pedestrian area. And there were three men in suits on a bench just in front of my car, staring at me with their mouths open.

So I proceed to try to get off the curb -- pull forward, reverse; pull forward, reverse-- and just get more and more stuck on the curb in the process. The men just look more and more incredulous as this goes on. At one point, I just started waving and grinning ghoulishly at them in frustration. In the middle of my flippant waving, my boss walks by.

I freeze. It's like he's the cheetah, and I am the antelope. If I remain veeeeery, veeery still, maybe he won't notice the car on the curb, at an angle to suggest she has approached from the wrong direction. He's on his blackberry, texting -- thank GOD they got the blackberry system back up this morning -- and, whew, he's past.

So I finally make it off the curb, get myself going in the right direction, pull onto the main street (in the right direction), and find the highway to get home.

I made this helpful graphic to illustrate:

It's been like this all week. On Monday, I tripped walking into my conference, fell down the stairs, skinned my knee and ripped my hose in front of the really hot guy who was (of course) one of the conference presenters. Once I made it to my seat, I started trying to eat my plate of fruit but each time I tried to spear a blueberry or apple slice with my fork, it would shoot off in my plate into the face of the person sitting to my left of right. So I give up after the VP of God sits down next to me and reminds me of the cantaloupe listeria outbreak right after I put the last bite in my mouth, and went to get my name tag. To get your name tag, you type your ID into the computer and it spits out your name tag, and you rip it off the printer. Except when I ripped mine off, I ripped it in half. Sigh. The only worse part happened at the end of the day when, in a fit of verbal diarrhea, I for some reason felt the need to tell the VP of God that I was a great beer pong player in college (?!?!)

Ah well, you win some, you lose some. It's may be no surprise that my immediate supervisor sent me an email today advising me to take a day off...sometime soon, very soon.

This is a post about our first date

2011-10-09T21:36:00.001-04:00

It's hard to tell the story of our first date without beginning with the week prior to our first date. I tell this story with some trepidation that young nieces and nephews and moms and dads will read this and be shocked and disillusioned...but I'm going to do it anyway. This is my official warning that this post is rated PG13-- and I will leave the R-rated version for those who buy me a glass of wine and a cannoli. Trust me, that version is good.

So I had actually seen pictures of Matt on Facebook and thought to myself "Wow, he's pretty cute." And Matt had heard stories about a young American teacher in town who liked to tell ridiculously uninhibited stories at parties. So, shockingly, when he heard that the hot, young, uninhibited teacher was throwing a party, for some reason he wanted to meet the girl.

I was throwing the party to get the kind-of attractive but very British (read: dreamy accent) guy to hang out with me, and I invited a lot of people I only sort of knew to make it "more casual." I didn't know a lot of the people who came, so I assigned my own names to them -- loudly and obnoxiously -- because there was no way I could remember their real names. I kind of blew my cover with Matt, though, because I had seen his picture before, so I actually greeted him by name even though we'd never met before...reallllly smooth, right?

So the night did not go terribly well the the British guy. He was souped up on liquor and the fact that he had just gotten accepted to some douchebaggy grad school, and was not paying nearly enough attention to me. Matt, however, was sober and attentive and complimented my tastes in music. And when the dumb British guy started throwing sloth-like blows at my co-host, Matt jumped up, broke up the fight, and drove everybody home. I was impressed.

This is us, the night we met:

Can you see the sparks?

I was even more impressed the next night when Matt invited me to a party, where we stayed up all night long talking (well, mostly) and having a wonderful time. The following Friday, we saw each other at another Embassy party and Matt drove me home afterwards. I asked if he wanted to come up, but he said goodnight instead. A little confused -- why did he leave the party and drive me home? -- I started walking the seven flights up to my Bosnian apartment. Then my cell phone rang and Matt came bounding after me. He said he hadn't wanted to come up because everything was moving so fast but then he changed his mind because he liked me so much. Ahh, men and hormones.

So the next night, a friend of ours was throwing a big 70s party that we were both going to. Matt and I had met a week before, and had spent a ton of time together at this point. I really, really, really wanted to make a big impression on him at the party. So far, we had sort of just hung out in these group social settings, but I saw this as an opportunity to take our relationship to the next step. In some weird, twisted girl way, I put a huge amount a pressure on this particular party. I drank way too much out of nerves and came on way too strong. Around midnight, I realized I need to go home now or I was going to make a huge fool of myself. So I asked Matt to drive me home (which of course he could, because unlike me, he was a responsible adult), and he informed me that he would just be dropping me off and would go back to the party. Since I had acted like an idiot, this wasn't a huge surprise.

Come on, can you blame me for being into this guy?

So let me paint you a little picture. Drunk girl in 70s clothes and a side ponytail in your car, her neck covered in salt from the tequila shots she did with all the girls at the party, too tipsy to sit up straight. It's your birthday in fifteen minutes, and you're driving her home instead of celebrating with your friends. She's come on way too strong all night, even if you have had a lot of fun the last week. And then she gives you a hand-drawn birthday card. In crayon. With a limerick. And a little birthday bat.


And this picture was taken before I started drinking.

Yeah.

Anyways, the next morning, I woke up fully dressed, with the full contents of my purse still in my bra from the night before (cell phone, wallet, lip gloss, etc.) and panicked as I slowly recalled my behavior. It was only ~7:30am (because everyone knows you don't sleep well after you've had that much to drink). In a hungover haze, I decided that the best way to show that I was not hungover was to text Matt right away. At 7:30. On a Sunday. On his birthday.
So I texted him to invite him out to a birthday lunch.

Which (finally) brings us to our first date:

We went to a little Italian restaurant in Sarajevo with only six or seven tables. I ordered the calamari to show how worldy I am. Not a good idea with a hangover. Despite the ridiculous night before, and despite how sick I felt, we were actually having a really nice time. Long, lingering glances, great conversation-- everything felt easy and natural. I paid for lunch (with half my rent money that month, practically -- I was very poor, and very bad at managing money) and we got in the car so he could drive me home. Matt was leaving for an R&R (mandatory Foreign Service vacation) in a few days, so this was the last opportunity to see each other for awhile. We got to my apartment, and I asked if he wanted to come up to hang out for awhile. And then he said those dreaded words: "We need to talk."

So yea, he broke up with my on our first date. Funny, when I write it out here, with all the context around it, it sounds a lot less surprising, but trust me, it seemed way out of left field at the time. I just nodded, told him I was having fun, and just wanted to keep hanging out until it stopped being fun, and to give me a call when he wanted to stop being an idiot (or something like that).

And you know what? Three weeks later, Matt called me from the airport when he landed back in Sarajevo. He drove directly from the airport to a little cafe in downtown Bascarsija, where I was grading papers and drinking Turkish coffee. And here we are, three and a half years later.

And that's the story of our first date.

This is a post about awesomeness (and nurses)

2011-10-04T12:52:00.000-04:00

HOW COOL IS THIS????

First, read my email to the NY Times Science section:

From: Elizabeth Hammond <echammond@gmail.com>
Date: Tue, Sep 27, 2011 at 8:16 PM
Subject: The Education of Advanced Degree Nurses - Thoughts from a Reader
To: grady@nytimes.com

Ms. Grady,

As an avid reader of the New York Times Science and Health section, I turn toyour paper for the latest developments in these fields. I am thereforesurprised that there has been little reporting on the upcoming changes in therequirements for advanced degree nurses. In 2004, The AmericanAssociation of Colleges of Nurses (AACN) released a position paper stating thatall advanced practice nurses (essentially Nurse Practitioners) should beeducated at the doctoral level by 2015. This shift in practice isdesigned to answer the need for more advanced-practice nurses and to providemore highly-skilled care for less cost to the consumer. With the deadlinelooming closer, I wonder how close we are to our goal. I am also verycurious how this development will affect the relationship between doctors andadvanced-degree nurses as well as between nurses and patients. Forexample, my initial research shows that many hospitals -- by state statute orregulation -- will not allow DNPs (Doctors of Nursing Practice) to callthemselves doctors in the hospital setting, although they have earned thedegree after five-six years of schooling (The Pearson Report, 2011). Iimagine many readers of your paper are unaware of the role of NursePractitioners or the upcoming role that DNPs will play in their care, but wouldbe interested to learn more. The last time this issue was raised in yourpaper was via a brief mention in an August 10th, 2008 article, and I think itdeserves more exploration.

The AACN position paper has already drastically changed the educational systemof nursing schools across the country, and will have a wide range of effects onour health care system in the immediate term. I encourage you toinvestigate this issue in the coming months and years as it continues to playout.

With kind regards,
Elizabeth Hammond
Springfield, Virginia

Then, check out these two articles on the New York TimesScience Section this week!!

http://well.blogs.nytimes.com/2011/10/01/who-gets-to-be-called-a-doctor/?ref=healthupdate&nl=health&emc=healthupdateemb2

http://www.nytimes.com/2011/10/02/health/policy/02docs.html?ref=health

Yay. Hopefully, you can't even tell how tipsy I was when I wrote the email.

You know boys and their shoes...

2011-09-27T19:36:00.003-04:00

This is a post about boys and their shoes.

Matt went shoe shopping today. These were his old shoes:

And these are his new shoes:

I guess it's good to know what you like, no? But then who am I to argue when I have three pairs of black pumps, two pairs of black flats...and two pairs of black "dress" flipflops.

Ethics

2011-09-25T20:47:00.002-04:00

I'm not sure how to write this post without sounding really high and mighty, but hell, I write a blog, and that's pretty egotistical in and of itself. I was reading an article about friends and grudges today (....yes, it was on Oprah, don't judge), and it got me to thinking about just how highly I value integrity in my friends and colleagues. It's kind of a deal-breaker for me, actually.

Look, it's not like we all don't make mistakes. But it's one thing to make a mistake and own up to it and try to make it right, and it's another to try to excuse it away. To use a fictional example, if you come to me and tell me you're having an affair, I will love you and support as you go through this devastating rent in your marriage. But my patience will get short if you try to tell me that this is somehow okay, or that your husband or wife somehow deserves it.

I had a job once where I watched colleagues consistently leave half an hour early, take hour-long lunches (on a 7.5 hour day), and take time off for personal business at the company's expense. It drove me nuts. Yes, our jobs weren't great. Yes, we were all under-appreciated and under-worked. But how do you expect to improve the situation if you become part the problem?

When I'm around individuals who consistently grey the ethical lines, I find myself feeling really squidgy. Don't get me wrong, there are plenty of times where I think it's perfectly acceptable to fudge the truth, but this isn't a post about social niceties or negotiating a deal in business (ever buy a house? or try to bargain in a flea market?) But I kind of feel like one's close friends and family deserve the gold-standard of ethics. The world is so topsy-turvy, so insane -- there has to be SOME place where you can go that you can trust each other 100%, without question, and know that they share the some of the same basic ideals of decency and justice.

Okay, so yes, I knocked down the display of cough drops at Giant last week, stared stupidly at it and then just kind of kicked them into a pile and walked away. And I have no shame about helping my good friend forge her optometrist's signature to get her contact lens prescription filled in Bosnia. On Wednesday, I left the lights on in my car and got a dead battery in the middle of a workday. I was on my way to a client lunch meeting, and even though I was standing there in a dress and heels in the middle of my office's parking garage -- holding jumper cables with the hood up, no less -- not a single person stopped to help. I got really irrationally upset about this, for some reason. Imagine my chagrin when the very next day, I was rushing to a meeting that I was five minutes late for when I saw a guy with his hood up, jumper cables on the ground, standing in the rain, right outside of the building where my meeting had just started. I totally walked right by. (To my credit, I tried to find him after my meeting ended twenty minutes later, but more because I was embarrassed at myself. Thankfully, he was already gone, because I have NO IDEA how to hook up jumper cables.)

I am not perfect. I miss opportunities to do the right thing all the time, and I have a long way to go before I measure up to my own standards. But there are degrees, you know? You can miss opportunities -- let's blame the inertia of your daily life -- and you can willfully try to get away with something that will end up hurting another person, just to make your life easier.

I don't know why this get's to me so much. I suppose that as I've gotten older, I've realized that I have the luxury to be a little bit choosy about whom I spend my time with. If you have ever had a friend that makes you feel a bit squidgy, you know what I mean. Perhaps they're constantly battling off creditors due to an inability to show good faith with their credit, or perhaps they've - even if it's just once or twice - lied to a friend over something big, like breaking a valuable object, or ruining a borrowed piece of clothing. Even if they offenses aren't happening against you, I really feel they show the mettle of a man, and unless the person shows some degree of guilt or shame over their behavior, I really start to lose respect. Of course we're all going to screw up and make bad decisions and try to rationalize them away from time to time, and we need our friends and family to help us realize when we're being knuckleheads. I hope I'm lucky enough to have friends like this when I inevitably do something stupid, and I hope that my loved ones will trust me enough to come to me when they're struggling with an ethical dilemma, and that I will be able to show compassion instead of judgement.

I am lucky that I have many, many truly wonderful, lovely friends, colleagues, and family. But I really have so little patience for people without an ethical backbone. And what does that say about me? Isn't the flip side to good ethics forgiveness, gracefulness, and kindness?

I'm going to have save that one for my 30s. I can only handle so much self-development in a decade.

Stupid hurricane.

2011-08-28T19:47:00.000-04:00

So we survived the earthquake and the hurricane, but I am NOT happy about my masseuse cancelling my massage on Saturday due to the possibility of the storm hitting in the middle of our session. It's a rain storm people. Wear a slicker. Put on some rain boots. GIVE ME MY FREAKIN' MASSAGE.

I had this whole day planned out, wherein I would get a bunch of work done (after a very long, very stressful week at work), and then go off for a 90 minute hot stone massage with a Japanese facial massage to round things out (sounds kind of dirty, doesn't it?). Then I would come home, get a little tipsy off cheap Chardonnay, and eat my face out from the Hurricane survival kit I'd made. So I was not happy when the masseuse cancelled, meaning that I had no clear reason to stop working on Saturday, or clear point at which I could start drinking. I need boundaries, people.

So I baked:

Please note the clear distinction between the delicious side of the brownies, and the dull side of the brownies. We have to do that sort of thing in our house, because some of us have more discerning palates than others (ahem). My side had toasted pecans and dried cherries. An unnamed member-of-my-house's were plain. This same individual has similar feelings about not allowing pineapple onto his pizza, sauteed apples into his grilled cheese, or onions into his cranberry sauce. Sigh.

I also developed strong feelings against the CooksIllustrated.com website, which apparently utilizes a tiered payment system, which is -- in my humble opinion -- practically racist and communist and anarchist and totally absurd. But I love you, Cooks Illustrated. Without you, how would I know that the toasted pecans would steam inside the brownies, thus necessitating the top-only placement in brownies? Without you, how would I know that chocolate chips have additives that change the taste once they reach temperature in baking, therefore requiring bar chocolate in my baked goods? Do not make me hate you, Cooks Illustrated. Where else would I get my undeserved sense of cooking snobbery from, if not from your we're-too-artsy-to-take-photos-but-hey-learn-from-out-pencil-sketches ouevre?

Anyways, Irene is officially not my friend.

I'm not even the tortoise. I'm like the flea on the tick on the tortoise.

2011-08-24T20:32:00.000-04:00

I realized a sad fact today. Despite running a full marathon and two halfs, I've recently given up running because of terrible exercise-induced headaches that leave me nauseous and in so much pain that all I can do is go to bed for the rest of the day. It doesn't matter whether I run two miles or twenty, I'm wrecked. Thinking that maybe these are just a result of being undertrained for my runs, I'm trying a new training program that builds up veeeerrryyy slowly. For the last two weeks, I've been powerwalking my normal running routes.

And I'm able to cover my normal running distances in the same amount of time.

One time, I actually made it a bit farther.

...

Sigh. No, but seriously, it's enjoyable to go out for a "workout" and come home without having to immediately begin my normal post-run decompression. A normal, two-to-three mile run, with walking breaks if I need them, in regular weather, would leave me so overheated afterwards that I would come home and immediately:

1. Strip off all my clothes. Awkward, because we have floor-to-ceiling windows.
2. Stick ice packs in my sports bra, my underwear, under my arms and on the back of my neck. I've saved special Cinderella and Dora the Explorer kid-sized packs that I tuck under elastic headbands so they stay in constant contact with the back of my head.
3. Drink about a gallon of iced tea or gatorade and swallow three or four Excedrin Migraine, which honestly have seriously decreased in efficacy since I started this little routine ten years ago.
4. When I can think about moving my arms over my head, I get in the shower and take the coldest shower I can think of. My body cools off okay, but my head just never gets there. If it's been a particularly hot or long run, I can't shower -- I'm too nauseous. Matt's had to bathe me a few times.

Then I get out of the shower and try to go about my normal day, pretending like this time I will have beaten it. But inevitably, within an hour or two, a headache will set in that makes it impossible to do the things I love, like talk or walk or breath. Which is why I've never been a morning runner. The only cure I've ever found is a nap. They're not migraines, because I don't get an aura or sensitivity to light or sound, and I never get physically sick. But they're baaaaaad.

Anyways, I'm hoping my new gradual walk-to-run plan over the next nine months will not only improve my eventual running times but maybe even have some impact on my headaches. I really do love to run. Think about the headaches I just described and imagine how it must have been when I trained for the marathon.

Yeah.

Earthquakemageddon = Thanksgiving in August

2011-08-23T21:08:00.000-04:00

So I'd like to say that I handled the 5.8 magnitude earthquake today with aplomb and grace, rather than what I actually did, which is first waiting to see if everyone else in my office felt the shaking, too, then waiting to see if they were going to freak out about it, and when one of the girls ran down the hall shouting "Go! Go! Go!", I hurriedly yelled the same thing into the conference call speakerphone I was on and ran like the dickens after her. I made it four steps before the shaking stopped, and then I pretended like I was just checking the other offices in case a handicapped person needed help. I even said it out loud, with my hands in my pockets, like this: "We should probably check the other offices in case someone, you know, needs help. There could be handicapped people." Then I turned around and went back into my office and sent a tail-between-my-legs email to the people I yelled at on my conference call (did I mention this is my fourth day on the job?) and mocked the people who evacuated, whom I could see from my 4th-floor window.

So between the meteor shower last week, the earthquake today, the impending hurricane this weekend, and the entire Middle East falling apart, we may not make it to see Thanksgiving. I therefore declared it Thanksgiving-on-a-Tuesday-in-August night. Actually, I just woke up Sunday morning dreaming about all the things I wanted to make for Thanksgiving and subsequently put roast chicken with a sherry-thyme pan sauce on the menu for tonight, and it just worked out that there was an earthquake today (thank god), but shhhh. The recipe was featured in this month's Cooking Illustrated as a way to get roast chicken on the table in under an hour, without basting. It was truly juicy and delicious and the pan sauce was oh-my-god good, but it took more like 1.5 hours, start to finish. Basically, you roast the chicken in a super-hot 450 degree oven in a skillet, then turn the oven off halfway through to let the bird finish cooking slowly, allowing all the various bits catch up with each other. I've never cooked meat on the bone before (ew, gross!) so this was a new challenge for me.

While the chicken rested, we made skillet cherry tomatoes with some of the leftover thyme. Also, because Matt loves blue cheese, we whipped up some blue cheese polenta, just to try something other than mashed potatoes for once. It was really good, but in my opinion, the flavor was a bit strong alongside the richness of the pan sauce, which I wanted to drink. In a jar. With a straw. Or maybe just inject in my veins. Whichever.

For dessert, we had a caramel cake with a bourbon-pear sauce. We tried to make it semi-healthy, but honestly, why bother? It was more like pound-cake, and I'd like to see more caramel goodness in the sauce (and maybe soak the cake in bourbon next time? I'm just saying.) But it was still really good. And actually, after the richness of the dinner, it was nice to have a semi-light dessert with lots of fruit tones to wrap it all up. A nice, dry prosecco was actually perfect alongside all of this.

You know, just another Tuesday night.

I'm in a relationship!

2011-08-10T21:20:00.000-04:00

I stayed up way too late last night having a fight about Facebook.

Ugh, I am so ashamed to admit that. But I felt it was necessary, in response to the 13 people who "liked" the fact that I announced that I was "in a relationship" on facebook last night, and in response to my girlfriend who "commented" that "If the two of you weren't so darn cute, I might be feeling nauseous right now." Oh, my friend, if only you knew. As a preface, I am sharing our Facebook relationship status conundrum because I think it's amazing and sad and ridiculous the way Facebook has jumped off the screen and into our bedroom last night. I would love to see how people comment, if at all, on this. Don't worry, no boyfriends were harmed in the making of this post.

So, as background, my significant other and I, met roughly three and a half years ago, and we have been together mostly ever since. To finally get around to announcing this on Facebook is a little late. We own a house together, we have a dog and a cat together, and we've gone through three international moves as a couple. In short, we're committed.

A few months after we met, boyfriend erased his "single" status to non-existent, i.e. just erased it from his profile. I could care less, but apparently this caused Facebook to announce on his "friends'" "walls" that he was "no longer in a relationship". As we had just started dating seriously, this caused an outpouring of sympathy and unwanted inquiry. He was fed up with the way Facebook drop-down menus attempted to define his feelings for me and declared he would never use them again. Fair enough.

Weeeeellll I kind of sort of may have requested to add him as my boyfriend to Facebook last night and announced it on my wall as a blatant Facebook extortionist sort of way, but only because he was updating his profile and what the hell, after three and a half years, surely he felt differently, and we're practically married anyways, what's the big deal? It's just Facebook, just click the little box-- it's nice, completely innocuous little way to share your love for someone with your friends, right?.

Um.

So we had a little discussion about how Facebook is not an appropriate place for feelings. It is an appropriate place for facts, and for events, and for milestones, and no, dating me is not a fact, an event or a milestone.

I do agree, it drives me up the wall when people use Facebook as a place to put extremely personal, emotional information up that leaves readers with no appropriate way to respond. For example:

Or maybe--

Actually, I kind of like that last one. I might make that my status message for a while, just to get his Mormon family excited. Hell, that would get my family excited. I haven't changed religions, quit a job, or moved to a land-mine-ridden country in at least a week-- definitely time to shake things up.

But I digress.

So obviously, the Facebook status drop-down menu is so not a big deal. Let it go. As we calmly and rationally discussed this issue, we found that we actually felt just a tad bit differently about this. That it represented something to each of us. To me, it represented faith that we would never need to CHANGE the Facebook status drop-down menu, plus I liked the PDA-ness of it. He, in his male rationality, thought.... well you know what, this isn't his blog so I'm under no obligation to represent his side of things. But trust me. I was really, definitely, obviously, with no question of a shade of a doubt, the person who was in the right here.

Um.

So I missed my bedtime last night, and instead of making a pot of chili like I had planned, and going to yoga and the gym and having a nice healthy day, I came home craving a nice juicy burger and Reba (yes, the one on Lifetime). There is an amazing place just ten minutes from our house called The Burger Joint. This place is incredible, and it is so out-of-place in a strip mall between a tanning salon and a Whole Foods. We love it because (well, besides the fact that it really is awesome) Tom Sietsema loves it too, and not only is he an awesome food writer for the Washington Post, but he's also the brother of the guy who moved into our house in Sarajevo. Which makes us famous by about thirteen degrees of separation. Small victories today.

Happiness is a medium patty, cooked to order, smothered in cheddar, jalapenos, a fried egg, applewood smoked bacon, and their homemade chipotle sauce.

My breakfast of whole wheat bread (full of ground flax and ground oats), made with applesauce and blueberries and ground almonds, looks a little weak in comparison.

Straticciatella

2011-08-09T22:35:00.000-04:00

We've got to do something about Matt's late hours. I was staaaarving all day, but I was craving this delicious Italian egg-drop soup called Straticciatella, which is best served hot so I managed to hold out until Matt got home by baking up some almond-blueberry bread for tomorrow's breakfast. By the way, I've discovered that my coffee grinder makes an awesome spice grinder and oat grinder and flax seed grinder and almond grinder.

This soup is basically composed of an egg-parmesean mixture slowly stirred into boiling broth. I started with big handfuls of spinach and chopped basil wilted over sizzling garlic and red chilies, making it pretty healthy. This is another one of my go-to fav's from the Moosewood Cooking for Health cookbook. Check out the pics of the prep below. The trick is to get everything out and ready before starting, because once you get going, it comes together in very quickly and easily. Did I remember that this time around? Don't be silly!

After sizzling some garlic and red chili flakes in olive oil for a few seconds, throw in several handfuls of spinach and a handful of chopped basil.

Add two cups of broth and two cups of water.

Once the mixture is boiling, slowly stir in two beaten eggs mixed with several tablespoons of parmesean and salt and pepper

Finish with a squeeze of lemon and salt to taste.

Serve right away with a splash of good olive oil, a dash of fresh pepper, and a couple sprigs of basil. Mum optional. Thanks to Matt for the photos!

Asparagus, Mushroom, and Pattapan Squash Bread Pudding

2011-08-08T19:17:00.002-04:00

I've really missed blogging since we've come back to the States. We're not traveling so much, so there isn't much to write about as far as that goes. We're fully re-acclimated in American culture, so that vein is dead as well. And while my job gives me a TON of hilarious, unbelievable material...I'd rather rather not get fired, or worse, indicted.

So to assuage my need to blather about my life to the world wide web, please accept this humble offering of an Asparagus, Mushroom, and Pattapan Squash Bread Pudding, adapted from the Moosewood Restaurant Cooking for Health cookbook, which is wonderful. I made this with leftover homemade bread, and it baked up nice and bubbly. Matt's on his way home from yet another 12-hour day at the office, so we'll let you know how it tastes later. Honey, I can't promise there won't be a nibble missing by the time you make it back.

UPDATE: We really liked this. It was hearty, savory, and filling, but without being overly heavy. It had a lightness to the egg and milk mixture, which comes from blending them together with an immersion blender, rather than just whipping them with a fork. As it's mostly vegetables, it's super healthy. The homemade, chunky bread as the base really made a difference.

This is a great stand-by dish because it can swallow up whatever leftover veggies you have in the fridge. To start, chop up an onion and some asparagus and mushrooms, and any other veggies you have on hand. You should have about 10-12 cups of vegetables total. Saute the onion with some salt and pepper until translucent, then add the asparagus and cover the pan for about five minutes. Add the other, softer veggies until they're all equally tender. Blend together about four eggs, a cup of milk, two tablespoons of fresh dill, and a nice chunk of feta with an immersion blender. Pour the vegetables over 3-4 cups of toasted bread chunks, and then pour the milk and cheese mixture over top. Sprinkle with Parmesan and bake in a 350 oven for about 40 minutes, or until set. Let the casserole rest for five minutes before serving.

We served this with ice cold vodka martinis and Matt-hattans. Classy!

The renovations continue...

2010-12-04T12:31:00.005-05:00

So, the good news:

1. Our new dishwasher arrived! I have newfound appreciation for this piece of technology, and it has totally improved our quality of life in the last three days. If you cook as much as we do (and as messily), a dishwasher is indispensable. Sure wish I had had one for Thanksgiving!

2. The contractors finally finished! In one glorious burst of activity, they finished all their sanding and painting and moving and electrical work.

When leads to...

The less-good-news:

1. In our haste to move and just buy a dishwasher already, we accidentally ordered the wrong one. We waited a month for the wrong dishwasher.

2. The contractors had to cut a couple of holes in our living room i.e. the one room in the house I had completely finished painting. I had to repaint.

3. Matt has 24 hours to install the hardwood flooring in the basement before he leaves on a business trip. We were up until 2am last night painting the ceiling (which had big holes cut into it from the contractor's work). Painting ceilings is not fun. We both woke up with massive headaches, which I assume comes from over-exposure to paint fumes. Well, we probably could have gone to bed a bit earlier, but the movie "Enchanted" ended up on the TV downstairs, and we had to watch the ending. I was covered in a fine mist of white paint from head-to-toe, and we collapsed on a tarp-covered couch and watched the movie through a plastic-sheeted TV.

As a side note, I must express my loathing for eco-friendly paint. I'm all about the green initiatives, and I eagerly bought this stuff called "Freshaire" paint. We are now on our fifth coat in the dining room, because this stupid, no-VOC paint won't blend and the color differences can-to-can are so dramatic that after painting the 4th wall from a second can, we had to redo the adjoining wall to make it match. The paint refuses to blend, so there are these chalky patches and dark gloppy patches that makes it look like a toddler with muddy fingers scaled the wall. Not happy.

I also hate semi-gloss paint writ large. We finally got around to painting our teeny-tiny half bath this glorious bright red. It was a total pain because that bathroom is roughly 4 square feet. As soon as you painted one wall, you smudged the one behind you because you can't turn around. And when we removed the painter's tape, it ripped off the ceiling paint and the paint around the doorframe, which means....MORE PAINTING.

I guess it would suffice it to say that I just hate painting altogether. If we ever buy a fixer-upper again, we are hiring this task out.

Transitions

2010-12-02T09:22:00.006-05:00

Whenever a long period of time goes by without posting, I find it harder and harder to get started again because it's been too long! There's too much to recap! But rather than wait any longer, I decided to just get back in there. Most of our friends know that we finished our time in Bosnia, moved back to the US, traveled around the country for a month, and then lived out of a hotel while we house-hunted for the perfect place to live. We moved in Nov. 4th and one month later...there are still a dozen unpacked boxes stuffed in downstairs room, walls unpainted, and contractors in our basement.

We have settled in northern Virginia, and our new house has an enormous backyard (half of it is county property and we're technically squatting, but whatever) that abuts parkland and a jogging trail. We live on a quiet cul-de-sac with lovely neighbors from all over the world. We're close to a mall and a K-mart and a Trader Joe's and lots of good consumerism, and I like that when I go shopping in this area, I only hear English about half the time. I guess after living overseas for so long, it kind of feels like home to NOT understand what's going on around me.

Lots of smart people will tell you how reverse culture shock can be just as bad as culture shock upon moving to a new place. Apparently, it can be tough to be home and find that it's not how you remembered it, that your friends have continued growing and living without you and that they're not the same people anymore, and you come to miss the highlights of your life overseas. When we moved back, Matt & I promised ourselves that we would continue to live like tourists, even if we were back in the US. That's one of the reasons why we went on our huge road trip. There are so many amazing things out there to see! And we did see some amazing things. After Houston, which is as far as the blog posts went, we went to San Antonio, and then to Carlsbad, Phoenix, the Grand Canyon, The Hoover Dam, Las Vegas, Utah, Reno, Carmel Valley, San Jose, San Francisco, The Redwoods, Portland, Missoula, Yellowstone, The Badlands, Chicago, and finally, back to Virginia. I was totally amazed at the variety my own country contains and was thrilled to see all the family and friends I hadn't seen in years, (and sad to miss those friends that we couldn't squeeze into our packed itinerary).

Since settling in Virginia, it has been, if possible, even more jam-packed than all the traveling. There hasn't been TIME for reverse-culture-shock, except for the odd moments of annoyance in the grocery store when I think of how easily I could find phyllo dough, pumpkin seeds and cornmeal in Sarajevo. (Trader Joe's has "organic baby pea sprouts" and Mexican "pepinas" but no paprika? Come on, seriously?) Matt & I are living in a constant state of stress because we can't fully move into our house until all the painting and floor building is finished. And we can't do those projects until the contractors are finished with their work. They're currently 1 week overschedule, but doing such fabulous work that we're trying not to complain. When they're finished, we'll have a real laundry room, instead of a laundry cubby in the living room. In the middle of all this, I insanely offered to host Thanksgiving dinner. That was actually great, and I had a fabulous time. I get such a kick out of planning menus and scheduling oven times and spending hours in the kitchen. I'm clearly in the wrong line of work. But yea, it was a wee bit stressful in the middle of all of this.

Anyways, just when things started to seem like they were slowing down, we realized that Matt is off to Mexico City next week, and then after he gets back, it's basically the holidays and we'll be flying to Texas and to Utah to spend time with family. Family, we love you and we are very excited to be able to spend a holiday with you after being gone so long. But I would be lying if I didn't admit that we're really, really tired. Another reason that we haven't had much reverse-culture shock is that we haven't actually seen anyone since we got back, so there's no re-integration to smooth. All we do is paint, sand, build, replace, and write checks.

And I guess that's what I wanted to write about today-- the process of transitioning our new house into a new home. We realized this week than in just six months, Matt has to go to Panama for his next assignment. All this flurry of activity to make our house comfortable, just so we can enjoy it for a couple of months...before we pack it up and rent it out? Wow, my brain is melting just to think about it. Matt & I are searching high and low for ways for me to come with him to Panama and be employed, but haven't had much luck yet and we are trying to deal with the possibility that we might have to be apart for a tour, if we both want to have careers (and we do, especially if we want to ever pay off this mortgage!) Basically, we have absolutely no idea where we will be in a few months-- if I will be in Panama, or somewhere else with a job. I think one of the hardest parts of the Foreign Service lifestyle is the frequent uncertainty about the future. It's really hard to make plans or fully relax and enjoy the moment, because you have absolutely no idea what's going to happen in a few months. Is all the effort to make the house nice going to be worth it when I land an awesome job in DC and have to stay here while Matt's in Panama? Or are we spending lots of money and time so that renters can scratch up our new hardwood floors while we're out of the country? Like we did in Bosnia, I make our home as nice as possible, as if we were going to live here forever. We planted vegetable gardens, built compost heaps, and installed window treatments in Sarajevo. Because, seriously, you can't live your whole life out of a suitcase.

I know, I know, home is where the heart is and let go of material things and blah blah blah. And it takes time for a house to become a home, just through the process of familiarity. In the last few weeks, I've been remembering where I was this time last year. Last Thanksgiving, we were with friends in Sarajevo, recovering from ostrich flu or whatever was going around that year, and spending an unbelievable weekend in Hungary wine-tasting. We spent December throwing parties and building fires in the fireplace and watching Oreo go nuts in the three feet of snow we got before the holidays. Matt had to dig his way out of the driveway every morning, we had our water trucked in, and we had to climb three flights of stairs to take groceries from the car to the house. We had a house on a mountaintop that overlooked the city, cherry trees and apple trees and walnut trees in the yard, and a big cozy house where we lit a fire every night in the grate and cooked gourmet meals in our enormous kitchen. Funny how in retrospect, I don't remember how awful it was to run out of water when the snow blocked the water truck, and how grey, dreary, and interminable Bosnian winters are.

On Monday, I finally took time away from house stuff and took Oreo for a walk on the little path that runs behind our house. It was a like a revelation, and I seriously got a little choked up for a moment. It was so beautiful and quiet and still AND IT WAS RIGHT IN MY BACKYARD! One of the things I missed most in Sarajevo was the ability to just go out for a walk whenever I wanted. Living on a mountain top with unmannered and untethered farm dogs around (and, oh yea, the possibility of land mines, since we lived in a former front line area), made it tough to just go exploring. I am really appreciating the ability to just grab my shoes whenever I need a break and go outside. When I discovered just how great the trail was behind my house, I knew for sure that our house was perfect. Or will be, one day. (As I typed that, the power went out, because the contractors are doing something weird with the electrical downstairs. This happens a lot.)

So yes, I am looking forward to the day when we come home and there aren't stacks of hardwood floor boards in boxes in the TV room, waiting to be aired out and installed, and when Matt has his office back (we can't unpack the downstairs boxes that are in there until we're finished installing the floor, and we can't install the floor until the contractors are finished drilling and installing drywall, and then we need to paint it before we install the floors and blah blah blah....). I am looking forward to the day when we have a dishwasher to put into the big hole in our kitchen. I am looking forward to the day when we don't have a plumbing problem, an electrical issue, or a painting disaster just waiting to happen. I am envisioning us being out with friends, and coming home after a fun and exhausting day out seeing the city, and lighting a fire in our fireplaces, cuddling on a couch on our neatly installed new floors, and looking around all all our neat, uncluttered rooms that are not full of muddy bootprints and half-unpacked boxes. And I will try not to have a mental breakdown when we have to put all those things back into boxes in May...if I have a job, that is.

But in the meantime, it's the holidays and we have a lot to be thankful for. We've had some incredible experiences in the last year-- traveling to Thailand, checking out the Christmas markets in Munich, wine-tasting in Hungary, stocking up on gourmet goodies in Italy, traveling to Croatia and Montenegro for rafting and boating and exploring, and surviving a month in a car together across the United States. I feel pretty lucky to have a guy like Matt by my side for all of this, because he's the kind of guy that makes it all the stress worth it. And I know wherever we end up in the next year will be just as exciting and enriching as everything else. And if we're ever in a place that isn't enriching and exciting...then by golly, I am going to appreciate the peace and quiet!

And now, just for fun, here are some pictures of the beasties in their Halloween costumes. We were in Orlando for Halloween and didn't get to participate in the Trick-or-Treating, but that didn't mean we didn't enjoy dressing up the animals!

Maca was a lady bug

Oreo embraces his part-goat side.

We have very, very patient, adaptable beasties.

2010-09-16T20:59:00.004-04:00

This is Cheeky Monkey, our road trip mascot. We won him at the Fun Fair in TN, and he now lives on our dash.

First, as promised-- this is the picture of our American Chomper winner of Alabama-- Krystal's!!

Okay, moving on. We are currently in Houston, after spending a great time in New Orleans. We arrived after a long drive from Atlanta, and immediately went up to enjoy cocktails by the rooftop pool of our amazing hotel, Le Pavillion.

Then we headed down to Bourbon Street for dinner and grabbed a quick po' boy at the Cajun Cabin. We were a little bit surprised by just how...sticky...Bourbon St was. It was hot and humid, and walking down Bourbon Street at night was kind of like walking through every college frat party I've ever attended, all at once. Strip clubs and hustler bars lined the road, while live bands competed for our attention in neighboring bars. After walking around a bit, we headed back for the free PB&J's and hot cocoa provided by our hotel in the lobby every night. Then, we went upstairs where the hotel staff had drawn me a bath, laid out fresh fruit, flowers, rubber duckies, and tea. We loved that hotel!

The next morning, we woke up early and ate breakfast #1-- beignets and coffee at Cafe du Monde. YUM!

Afterwards, we went to Brennan's, the classic NOLA breakfast joint. We ate gumbo and turtle soup, followed by eggs benedict in a red wine and mushroom sauce, and finished up with bananas foster and crepes Ferdinand. Below, our waiter flames up the desserts!

We were pretty painfully full at this point, so we headed back to the hotel and packed up the car. We started the drive for Houston, making a stop at Oak Alley. It's a classic old sugar plantation in Louisiana, and we rambled around the estate while drinking frozen mint juleps, melting in the heat. The house was beautiful, the grounds were just stunning, and the heat was...edifying. Our tour was great, although we were a bit shocked when the mild-mannered Southern belle who was giving our tour said, "The plantation used slave labor. In their honor, there's a plaque in the garden listing the names of the 92 men, women, and children who worked here, the origins, and their estimated purchase price. Okay, moving to the dining room..." Wow... We couldn't imagine what kind of conditions these people had to worked under.

We made it to Houston that evening, and ever since we've have had a total blast hanging out with my sister, Sarah, her husband John, and their awesome kids, Cameron and Kaylin. After the crazy schedule we've been keeping, it's been really great to just hang out and catch up with family. Tomorrow, we're going to do some sightseeing downtown before heading to San Antonio to hang out with my aunt. I'll be sure to keep you updated on all our plans, and I'll write again soon!

Southern Comforts

2010-09-14T20:01:00.006-04:00

Day three of my captivity. A continuous diet of nutritionally-void food, which I am beginning to suspect is laced with sodium chloride, has necessitated that I change my daily attire, favoring elastic waistbands and generous tunic dresses. I fear all hope of rescue, in the form of a gym, is finally, lost.

JUST KIDDING!! We are having a rockin’ good time on our Super Fantastic, Fully Elastic (waist-bands, that is), often Bombastic, at times spastic, Cross-Country Road Trip of Super Fun Happy Joy. The primary evidence for this super aweomeness of the trip is indicated by the dearth of postings so far—I’m too busy sight-seeing and eating. (Although I won’t lie, I’ve spent more time than I like to admit playing in the car with the silly putty I won at a kid’s fun center in Tennessee.)

Just to get you all up to speed, Matt & I have just returned from our adventures and travails overseas. In nine days, we have visited eight states, eating approximately 37 hamburgers, lugged 4.7 tons of luggage, chased our run-away dog three times, and driven 1,156.3 miles. Getting here wasn’t easy. It was a fifteen hour haul from Sarajevo, complicated a little by the huge dog crate and a lot a bit by the incessantly-wailing cat that we had to take in-cabin with us. Yes folks, in case you were curious, it IS possible for a cat to yowl for fifteen straight hours. It’s also possible to make yourself the most unpopular person on a flight in under two seconds. At least babies are cute! We got death stares while the cat yowls, and stern tsk-tsk’s when we started burying her carrier in mounds of blankets and pillows in a desperate attempt to deafen the noise. Somehow we managed to arrive in Washington without grabbing a beer, throwing the emergency slide, and kicking her off-flight.

Once back in the USA, we immediately descended upon Taco Bell, followed up with Wendy’s for dessert. After gorging ourselves on a massive binge of consumeristic glory in Northern Virginia, we headed south to see my parents/pass on the yowling cat to them in St. Mary’s county, Maryland. (Don’t worry, we’ll take her back. Eventually.) On Saturday, we headed to stop number 2: Johnson City, Tennessee. My little sister, Annelise, lives and works down here doing great work through the Appalachia Service Project. I won’t go into too many details about our time there (we’re pretty sure our parents and potential employers google us), but suffice it to say that we had a fabulous time involving laser tag, batting cages, bumper cars AND go-karts, a hot pastrami on rye, and puzzlement over an interactive ark in the Children’s Hands-On Museum (complete with mounted heads of wild game). We stayed in the incredible Carnegie Hotel, a gorgeous early-twentieth century building with plush armchairs, crystal chandeliers, and floor-to-twenty-foot-ceiling windows—for $70 a night. We loved Tennesse, although we were perplexed by the bible verses posted at each hole of the mini-golf course, and the giant banner with a verse from Corinthians hanging over the batting cages.

On Monday, we left bright and early for Atlanta, Georgia. What a city! We headed straight downtown to see all that Atlanta had to offer. Our first stop was the Georgia Aquarium, the largest aquarium in the world (according to the brochure). We had a total blast touching manta rays, watching beluga whales turn somersaults, and marveling at jellyfish oozing around a neon-lit tank. It was a fabulously-run museum, with plenty of knowledgeable staff at all the exhibits to answer questions and sell you pictures of you with the whales, of swims with you and the sharks, and plush versions of their Nemo fish, Deepo.

After the aquarium, we explored a quintessential part of Americana, the Coca-Cola Museum. It was half freakish, half awesome. The staff in the museum were so friendly and sweet that I started to worry about the diabetes risk of listening to them too long. We enjoyed watching the bottling process and reading about how the business grew over the last hundred-plus years, but less enjoyed the propaganda-filled videos describing Coca-Cola’s four “u”s—universal quality, universal appeal, universal…wait, I can’t remember. “Matt, do you remember the four “u”s from the Coca-Cola museum?” “You mean the four “u”s from the 4-D interactive death-ride at the end of the museum? No. I still have shaken baby syndrome from that. I think the flying grasshopper on the ride severed my spinal cord.” Good to know, since he’s driving right now.

Anyways, the museum was weird but oddly inspiring, although we both noticed they forgot to mention one of Coke’s main ingredients in the first formula that was responsible for much of its appeal, that being, of course, cocaine. We did have an unabashed enjoyment of the tasting room, where we sampled up to sixty coke products from around the world and got to take home a complementary glass bottle of coke that we had watched being bottled earlier in the tour.

From there, we headed to the CNN main headquarters to learn all about one of the biggest news conglomerates in the world. We had fun riding a 13-story freestanding escalator up to see their news rooms and to watch Rick Sanchez live. I was sad to learn that Anderson Cooper, however, works out of their New York office.

From there, it was on to our awesome hotel, the Artmore. We enjoyed a cocktail at their bar and headed out to an incredible dinner in Midtown at a restaurant called “Ra,” which did fusion-type sushi. We woke up early this morning to depart Atlanta, but not before making a stop at the Martin Luther King Jr. History Center, which made me cry for about an hour straight (it was pretty powerful stuff). We’ve been on the road to New Orleans for about five hours, and I can’t wait to get into Louisana, where my guide book promises me the allure of the road-side daiqueri bar, where as long as I don’t remove the tape from the straw-hole, it counts as a covered container and can hang out in my cup holder.

We’re looking forward to a night of great Creole cuisine and Cajun music, and I’ll be sure to update you with our adventures down south. Before I go, I do want to share with you a little feature I shall be calling…

AMERICAN CHOMPER!!!

…featuring the best foods from all the states we visit. This entry is affectionately entitled “Southern Comforts”, as it features three items from our first three days in the South.

The winner from Tennessee is:

The Cheddar Round! This delectable tater-tot stuffed with cheese is a breakfast staple at the local chain drive-through called Pal’s, easily sighted by the giant hot dog on the roof of each restaurant. Greasy, crunchy, and cheesy, this delightful little nosh got us going at 8am Monday morning.

The winner from Georgia is:

The Hot Mess! Yep, that’s the actual name of the most delicious part of our dinner at Ra. It was hard to choose because our meal also featured lobster spring rolls, seared tuna with perfectly ripe avocados, coconut-crème brulee, and green tea spiked with what I think was edamame. The Hot Mess was composed of a fried ball of rice topped with warm crabmeat in a spicy tuna sauce, sesame seeds, a sliver of jalapeno, and cilantro. WOW.

The winner from Alabama is:

ALL OF KRYSTAL’s! This Southern staple chain restaurant, much like a White Castle, features sliders and chili fries smothered in cheese. I’d write more, but I only ate an hour ago and I’m still in a junk food haze, and it’s time to clink our daiquiris in celebration of crossing another state border…onwards to Louisiana!

(picture of Krystal's pending me getting the card reader out of the car...but I'm too busy enjoying the rooftop pool at our hotel!)

A fabulous birthday weekend

2010-01-25T06:48:00.006-05:00

This Saturday, I turned 25, and I have to say that it was probably the single best birthday ever. Matt started treating me like it was my birthday last Wednesday and hasn't really stopped since, so I'm still feeling like royalty. Friday, he sent me off to the spa for a pedicure. Then, we headed out for our dinner reservations at Cetiri Sobe (Four Rooms), one of the fanciest restaurants in Sarajevo. I should have known something was up when Matt requested we sit at a big table, even though it was just the two of us-- until our friends Ana and Matt walked through the door to join us, with flowers and presents in hand. What a wonderful surprise! We had a fabulous dinner, including a poached pear with smoked trout and horseradish cream, a beautiful steak in an inventive (hmm) mole sauce, and chestnut mousse for dessert. And that was just my meal! It was actually pretty delicious, and it was so great to celebrate with friends.

Saturday morning, I woke up to Matt singing me a birthday song of his own invention, and with presents waiting for me next to a cup of coffee. Matt had already given me the complete Harry Potter series on Blu-Ray the night before, and I didn't know how he planned to top that one. When I opened the bag, I found a book...on digital photography...specifically, for the Canon Rebel Eos T1i!! And under the table, there was the camera, along with a bunch of lenses, light diffusers, an 8GB memory card, and lots of other fun goodies.

Oreo poses for my new camera

This was the camera of my dreams, the one I had lusted after for years but figured was still several years away from being affordable, (considering I have no income). I have absolutely no idea how to use it, but Matt knows how much I love to read manuals on anything and everything, (yes, weird, moving on), so I'm going to have as much fun reading the 358-page guide as I will using the camera.

Playing with the incredible zoom

That afternoon, I headed out to a "Julie and Julia" event, where we all made dishes from Julia Child's cookbook, watched the movie, and discussed "My Life in France," (which I thought was charming and hugely enjoyable). I made brioche au fromage, which I've done before using a more updated recipe. Sorry, Julia, you've been fired from future brioche recipes-- the "Rich Man's Brioche" from "The Bread Baker's Apprentice" (with 16 ounces of butter) puts your brioche dough to shame (only 8 ounces of butter?!) What a fun afternoon of eating, and movies, and more eating.

After returning home, I saw that my mom had sent me an email with all the presents she had gotten for me from my Amazon Wish List. Whoops-- I forgot she still had that link. She was probably really confused as to why I had 12 different books on Buddhism in there, but I just saw "Seven Years in Tibet" for the first time, and loved it, and couldn't wait to learn more about the Dalai Lama and Tibet and Buddhism, and just added a bunch of books randomly to the list before promptly getting distracted by something else. No Mom, I am not converting to Buddhism, don't worry. I did feel a little guilty when I squealed even more loudly over the tupperware set she got for me than I did for the camera, (in my own defense, I was so shocked and overwhelmed by the camera that I speechless for most of the morning).

That night, we headed out to a wine tasting led by our favorite wine guy, Stan from "Wine and Chocolates" in Grbavica, (for those in the area). Tonight, he was featuring Spanish wines-- lots of Tempranillo grapes and Rioja varietals. Typically, I love that stuff, but these wines were so huge and big that I was left gasping for breath a few times. Unfortunately, I left my notes there, but some comments I do remember from the night included, "notes of wildebeast," and "no, wildebeast in a rainstorm!"

Anyways, it was a fabulously good time and I was completely overwhelmed when my friends walked out with a birthday cheesecake for me, (YUM!) I brought my new camera that night, and tested out its foodie-pic-capabilities:

While my pictures aren't that great yet, the potential of this camera is so huge and I can't wait to figure it all out. At least in the future, you guys can just look at the pretty pictures if my writing gets boring.

Did I mention that I'm training for a new marathon? After a groggy, post-birthday Sunday morning, I geared myself up for long run #3: ten miles. Well, first off, let me talk about how living in Sarajevo can lead to great creativity. Typically, groggy mornings in the US are cured by the best hangover food of all time-- Taco Bell's Cheesy Gordita Crunch (with beans, not meat-- it's not on the menu and you have to ask for it). There are no taco bells in Sarajevo. Actually, tacos are a relatively new thing here, and when the grocery starting carrying taco shells about a year ago, I gained renewed hope in Bosnia's future. So, while I miss being able to drive down the road for my favorite processed food, it is kind of cool trying to figure out just what goes into a zesty cheese sauce, or how to best mimic a sour cream gun.

Restored by my cheesy gordita crunch attempts, I geared up for my long run. Maybe I should have rethought the whole wine tasting-heavy mexican food combo prior to a ten miler, but whatever, life is short. I run with a few other women, but I was the only one who could make it out this week. I won't go into graphic detail about the horrible-ness and extreme pain that ensued during my 10 miles of treadmill glory, but it was something. Matt, the saintliest of all sainted boyfriends, even had mac n' cheese and a tub of gatorade waiting for me when I got home.

It's runs like that which make me question why I'm doing this all over again. Wasn't one marathon enough? Wasn't the pain and bleeding (oh yes, there was lots of bleeding) and headaches enough one time around? I'll tell you what, though, there is nothing like the feeling of crossing the finish line after 26.2 grueling miles. It's completely addictive. It's just so HARD, and to do it anyway, even when it causes my body to behave like a 89-year-old-woman's, is pretty satisfying. I'm also a very slow runner. So that pain lasts a looooong time. You would think that would equal even more satisfaction, but at some point, you lose a lot of your mental functioning as the pain slowly consumes you. Ten miles would take a (very) average runner maybe 1:45. It took me more than two hours. Two slow, plodding hours.

Okay, okay, I think I've convinced you of the horror that is marathon training. But I bring this topic up now because I have a feeling it will feature in future posts, and I don't want you to be surprised when pictures of me looking swollen and exhausted pop up. I'm running the Prague Marathon on May 9th, so if you don't get enough vicarious thrill from the blog, you can always come join me.

That's all for now-- as so often happens to thesis writers, (or anyone else who works from home), it can be really easy to come up with credible distractions from actually doing your work. My house is generally never cleaner, my cooking is never more elaborate, and my nails are never better-manicured than when I have a writing project hanging over my head. Sigh.

Munich, the Holidays, and the Ambassador

2010-01-21T05:42:00.013-05:00

Picking out ornaments at the Munich Christmas Markets

So my next belated post here will be about the fabulous trip that Matt & I took to Munich on the first weekend of December. I can't remember exactly how we decided to take this trip, but it probably went something like this:

Me: We have no Christmas ornaments! Or decorations! Or giant blow-up snow-globes for the yard! And it's our first Christmas together!! What are we going to DO!?
Matt: Aren't you Jewish?
Me: Well, yea, except at Christmas. And sometimes at Easter, because I like decorating eggs.
Matt: Um, okay.
(Pause)
Matt: Why don't we go check out the Christmas markets in Munich so we can get some Christmas decorations?
Me: The WHAT markets?
Matt: Haven't you heard of the Christmas markets? Where it's just tons of cute little markets selling crafts and ornaments and mulled wine?
Me: (hyperventilating) You mean...we could go...and do nothing but shop...for Christmas...and eat bratwurst and drink German beer and gluwine....for A WHOLE WEEKEND?
Matt: Okay, I'll book the tickets.

That is why I love this man. So off we went to Germany, where we stayed in a cute boutiquey hotel and went from market to market for three straight days. This is me, happily drinking gluwine (hot spiced wine) at one of the markets:

There are a lot of Christmas markets in Europe, and a lot in Munich specifically. Each one had a different flavor. There was a hippy-ish one out where Oktoberfest usually takes place, and most of the vendors out there were selling tie-dye candles, hookah pipes, incense and other hip accoutrement. We got some beautiful stationary and a steel-and-stone sculpture that reminded us of Kevin from "Up".

Kevin comes apart and re-assembles. This is Kevin in his new home, on top of our wood pile. Usually, we have him arranged in less-morbid poses.

Another market was more artsy, while another was more old-world Europe. My favorite market was at the Chinese Tower, in the middle of the English Gardens. At each market, Matt & I drank at least one cup of gluwine. You get to keep the mug, (or you can return them and get a Euro back), but we kept most of them. Now, we have this very cool collection of mugs from each of the markets we went to. Each market was packed shoulder-to-shoulder with shoppers, which normally would drive me nuts, but everything was so beautiful and cheery and delicious that I couldn't get enough of it all.

I'd go back to Munich just for the food.

I'd been to Munich before, as an irresponsible 18-year-old backpacker, and I'll admit I don't remember much from that trip. So it was a bit of a surprise on this trip to find that not only do I like Munich, (that much I remembered), but I LOVE MUNICH. Seriously. I could live here. Some cities just click with you, and this was one of them. I loved the people, I loved the food, I loved all the history, and I loved all the parks and jogging paths and ponds and events and music and...sigh.

A surfer, in the English Gardens (in December!)

Anyways, we returned back to Sarajevo with lots of goodies, and Matt is still cruising from all the brownie points he earned during this trip. That very night, we set up the little Charlie-Brown tree we'd gotten at the local nursery and started decorating.

The next weekend, we threw a big party to celebrate Hanukkah. Honestly, I just love the food and when I started getting all these Hanukkah recipes in my inbox, I knew I needed to throw a party just for an excuse to cook everything. We made latkes and applesauce, focaccia and spinach dip, vanilla cheesecake with chocolate ganache, macaroons, rugelach, cheese straws, and hot chocolate.

(I forgot to take a picture before the party, so these are the leftovers)

We also tried our hand at a gingerbread-house-kit. It was supposed to be a fun afternoon of baking and assembling and decorating, but as so often happens with these "easy to assemble" kits, things weren't quite so simple. Let's just say that there was a lot of sailor language around the house that day, then we both needed some quiet time, and then Matt worked some engineering magic on the house using some ribbon, duct tape, and our fourth attempt at icing to make the following stunning creation:

And this is what it was supposed to look like:

Yea, anyways. Christmas! If you haven't guessed by now, I really, really love the holidays. Starting with Halloween, those three months up until New Year's are just about the most wonderful time of year ever, (until it's summer again, and I get to BBQ and sit outside on the patio in a sundress). We had a really beautiful December, with a snowstorm that left three feet of snow on our mountain, followed by two weeks of 60 degree weather.

For Christmas, we planned to have some friends over for dinner, and I had lots of fun cooking up all my favorite Christmas dishes, like garlicky green beans, and more importantly, pie. Matt made his family's traditional orange rolls, which were fabulous.

We woke up that morning, shared some mimosas and opened our presents, while all the animals ran around in their Christmas finery, (by the way, Mom, thanks for Oreo & Maca's new outfits):

After the present frenzy, (well, in my case at least), we started cooking and welcomed our friends over around two in the afternoon. We opened one of the double magnums of Kekfrankos that we picked up while in Hungary, popped some champagne, and enjoyed a wonderful day. As hard as it was to be away from my family on Christmas, I couldn't have imagined a better way to spend it.

Dessert on Christmas Day

(Chocolate Cherry Trifle, Bourbon Apple Pie, and a disastrous Lemon Cheesecake)

Maca naps after opening all her presents

At this point, Matt & I were feeling some party fatigue, but we had already promised to open our house up for a New Year's Party, since we live on top of a mountain where you have a great view of the city and all the fireworks. I swore to Matt that I would keep the cooking simple, and so we just did chips and beer and champagne that night. At the last minute, we sent out a notice to the Embassy community to feel free to join us, too. We were expecting a big crowd between the hash group and the Embassy community, despite the late notice. The invitation stated for people to come over around 8pm.

Well, 8pm rolled around and no one was there. At 8:30, one guy showed up and we lit off some celebratory bottle rockets. At 9pm, the DCM (the second in command here) showed up with his wife. They're really great people, but it's awkward when it's just the five of you at a party that clearly has enough food and beer for 100 people. Okay, so at 9pm, some of our hash friends showed up, the DCM left, and we started to relax. At 9:15, the Ambassador showed up with his wife. So now there's 12 of us. With the Ambassador.

Let me first say that Ambassador English is an amazing guy-- smart, completely capable, and truly deserving of the job. He is totally connected to the community here, and everyone really likes him. His wife is also a really talented person, who has been nothing but kind to me and has really encouraged my own professional career. These are the people who threw a big caroling party at their place on Christmas Eve, and led us in "The Twelve Days of Christmas" around their 30 foot tree while we all sipped on mulled wine.

But he's still Matt's BOSS! And it's New Year's! And we had planned are very immature, irresponsible evening. We expected the English's to hang out for a while and then move on to whatever very-important-function they really had planned to go to that night. Imagine my surprise when they stuck around while the absinthe shots were being lit on fire, the fireworks started going off at midnight, and the dance party started in our living room. Despite the slow start to the evening, things definitely picked up with the Ambassador started dancing to "Chumbawumba" in our living room at 1:30am. Anyways, they were absolutely delightful and so gracious to us, and I love them for partying with us all night.

(No, there are no pictures)

After New Year's, we took a week or two to recover from all the holiday stress, and then I went off to Aviano, Italy with a girlfriend. Our main purpose of the trip was to hit up the American grocery store at the Air Force Base there. OMG, I nearly cried when I walked into the Commissary and saw all the beautiful, unwilted lettuce, and the cheddar, and the fresh herbs, and the Oreos...let's just say we picked up a few things.

After returning home, our best friends came to town from London. These guys used to live in Sarajevo, and for some crazy reason, they wanted to come back. For vacation. In January. Whatever, we weren't going to say no. We had a wonderful time checking out all the Sarajevo hotspots with them-- sometimes it takes having guests to remember all the cool, interesting things to do in your own city. Plus, their daughter is freakin' adorable.

Samantha, in her fairy costume, at the farewell dinner

Samantha picked out William James's "The Varieties of Religious Experience" for some light reading with Oreo.

So now you are all completely up to date with our lives. Next week, we're likely heading to Zagreb. On Feb 10th, we're off to the UK and the US for an R&R. We'll be visiting all our friends in London, Scotland, DC and LA. Three days after returning to Bosnia, I'll be heading to Paris for the half-marathon. It was a wonderful holiday season, and I can't wait to see all that the new year has to bring for us-- most importantly, moving back to the US sometime later this year, and maybe even a real job for yours truly? Crazier things have happened.

2010-01-05T12:56:00.006-05:00

I love Hungary!

Yes, it's been forever since I last posted, and yes, I'm going to blog about it all. Things have been so busy that in the last two months, I've been so busy DOING that I haven't the time to write about it.

Let's see, I think I'll start with Thanksgiving, (I'll break up this into a few posts so you don't get too overwhelmed). I was still recovering from the goat flu, or whatever the heck I had that week, (let me tell you, it is NOT fun running around town trying to find Tamiflu on the night before Bajram-- poor Matt!) Thanksgiving Day, we celebrated in true Hammond fashion i.e. drinking mimosas and watching the parade on TV. We spent that night with some friends of ours from the hash, and they cooked up the most delicious spread. It was so nice to spend it with all of our friends, but I really missed the family that day. The next morning, Matt & I had plans to go to southern Hungary with some friends of ours for a weekend of wine tasting. Before bed, I asked Matt what he was thankful for this holiday. He replied, "Hmm...I'm thankful for roads and dinosaurs and prehistoric ferns and all the other detritus that are making this trip possible." Classy!

Our Thanksgiving Dinner-- Thanks for cooking, Ruth & George!

We stayed in a part of Hungary that is famous for it's wine, and it was only a few kilometers over the Croatian border, so it was actually pretty easy to get there from Bosnia. I had looked and looked for a place to stay and wineries to visit, but most of the online info was in Hungarian or non-existent, so I took a chance with the only half-English hotel website I could find, and hired a expat in Budapest to set up the rest for me.

The hotel we stayed in turned out to be fantastic and such a steal-- for just 60 euro a night, we had a comfortable room with 12 foot ceilings, a balcony overlooking a private courtyard, and access to their wellness center, which included two hot tubs and five saunas. So yes, we highly recommend the Hotel Kager for all your southern Hungarian needs.

There really is only one thing to do in this part of the country, and that's drink wine. We tried to set up a few other activities so we wouldn't overload on the wine too quickly, but honestly, it was the wine that was the most fun. Our first night, we had dinner at the amazing Polgar winery. Dinner took place down in the cellar, and we had to walk past truly enormous barrels of wine to our table, which was in a cozy little room with a roaring fire. Heads up: I'm going to tell you everything we ate and drank while we were there, because everything so spectacular, and if you ever have a chance to pick up a bottle of Hungarian wine, definitely do it. If you're not into wine or food, just skip the rest.

So yes, dinner that night was served family style and the menu was already set. Our waiter came out and asked how many kinds of wines we wanted to try that night. He brought out the first white, a Chardonnay-Muskotaly Cuvee 2009 that was fruity, but not too sweet. He served it with the most fabulous horseradish soup, with bits of bacon floating in the bottom. It tasted like heaven in bowl. If I never ate anything else that weekend but that soup, I would have gone home happy.

Matt, showing off his belly, at the Polgar Winery

While we waited for the next course, we were served a Rose Cuvee 2009 that surprised me by actually being good-- I'm typically not a rose fan, but this had a huge amount of flavor and was quite dry. Next, we were brought a huge plate of venison goulash and a sort of potato croquette. With this, we drank a 2008 Portugieser, (one of the traditional Hungarian grapes) that was both spicy and light. We had yet another glass with this course, a Rubin Cuvee 2009 that tasted like cherries, with a hint of peat but without being overwhelming, (we took half a case of it home with us). We were served an enormous cheese plate next, but we were already so full at this point that it was almost painful to keep going. With this, we drank their 2006 Cabernet Sauvignon, which Matt gave two big smiley faces. We next drank the Polgar Cuvee Barrique 2004; it had a strong nose, but was sort of disappointing in the finish. For dessert, we ate lemon streduel and a poppeyseed cake, neither of which would fit into my stomach. We were treated with a seventh wine that was so unbelievably good-- the Elixir Cuvee Barrique 2003, which at 8400 florints a bottle was a little out of our price range. As I recall, there were a few more glasses poured after this last, but we were all seriously drunk and full and I stopped taking notes. I vaugely remember a yummy Polgar Pearl Cremant Blanc, but who knows? By this time, the place was completely packed with other people-- and it was entirely empty when we arrived. It was loud, boisterous, familial, jovial, and one of the best dining experiences I've ever had.

The next morning, our friends went off to explore Pecs, but Matt had already been there so we stayed in the Villany region. After the decadence of the previous evening, we wanted to do a little non-wine tourism that morning. First, we set off to visit the ancient castle in Siklos. It was supposed to be one of the main attractions in the area, but as you can see from the picture below, it was pretty much deserted (and mostly shut down for restorations.)

Where will we park?!

Matt, in Siklos Castle

Next, we headed off for the Roman Catholic Church of the Holy Trinity, called Szentharomsag. I was excited about the frescoes, which our guide said were some of the most significant in the country. After driving around for 10 minutes, we realized the church was exactly 54 feet away from the castle. It was also closed.

Not to be deterred, we next headed for the Bey Malkoch Djami, a mosque built during the Turkish occupation in the 16th century. It was supposedly a great example of architecture from this period, surrounded by a lovely rose garden. Well, the architecture was nice from the outside...but it was also closed. As for the rose garden? Maybe we shouldn't have had our hopes very high, being that it was late November.

Bey Malkoch Djami, Siklos

Still unphased, and laughing at our poor luck, we drove off to the little town of Villanykovesd, where we heard that the picturesque row of wine cellars made it one of the top places to stay in the area. I was really excited to wander in and out of wine cellars for a few hours.

Guess what? They were all closed. EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THEM. We walked all over the two streets that made up the little village, and a few people stared at us from their kitchen windows, but other than that, the place was deserted. It was easy to see that it would be really lovely and lively in good weather, and then and there we decided to come back next summer.

Roofs of Wine Cellar Row, in Villanykovesd

At this point, I was really glad our friends had gone off to Pecs, or else I would have felt horrible at the bad luck. Matt and I were still having fun though, but we were definitely in need of a good experience at the next place. We drove back to Villany, and staring at row after row of closed-up shops, I started to worry that our trip was doomed. I asked Matt if we could go to the Gere winery, the only other winery I had heard of in the town-- I was still trying to act like I knew what I was doing.

Gere was FABULOUS. It had recently been completely renovated, and they added a spa and a hotel, so I'd definitely recommend this place if you're ever in the area. Walking into the resturaunt, we asked if they had space for two for lunch and maybe a wine tasting. The place was nearly deserted as well, and really fancy-- I was feeling guilty as I led Matt past white-clothed tables after I had promised him a laid-back, casual weekend. As my parents will agree, I had a weird knack for randomly picking the most expensive item in any store or restaraunt, even if not trying not to.

Matt had the most incredible pork tenderloin, (a special Hungarian variety, called Mangalica) on a bed of mashed potatoes with spinach, with a julienned zuchinni salad on the side. I tried the veal au jus, (which was a little too cute-tasting for me), but the potato croquettes and whipped sour cream on the side were fantastic. The wines, though, were really the treat. First, we had a 2008 Portuguisher that was light, velvety and easy to drink. Then, we had the Athus Cuvee 2007, which I liked for its good tannins and ability to stand up well to our food. Did I mention all these fabulous wines were generally around $6-$12 a bottle? We took a bunch of the Athus home to drink for casual weeknights. The third bottle, a Kopar Villanyi Cuvee 2006 was superb. As Matt said, "That's wow wine. That's 8 1/2 smiley faces." We couldn't resist taking two bottles of this home for special occasions.

Full and happy from our lunch, with the morning's foibles forgotten in a haze of wine and pork, we went back to Polgar to pick up a case of wine now that we had something to compare it to. Next, we went to our first wine tour of the weekend, at Sauska. It was a bit out of the town center, and stood as a big, square, austere building in the middle of the vineyard. After wandering around the outside, trying to get in, we were eventually shown into their tasting room, which I loved for the giant chandelier made out of wine glasses, and the enormous hanging candle circle thingie. What are those called? You often see them in churches out here-- huge wooden circles suspended from the ceiling down to just ten or so feet above the floor, and set with candles. Whatever it is, I want one.

The Sauska Tasting Room

We were still a little unsure of what we were supposed to be doing here, or if we were in the right place, so we just started drinking. This winery was a lot more chic and modern, where Gere had been posh and Polgar had been charmingly traditional. Still, the wines were just as unbelievable as everywhere else. While we waited, we tried a Sauska Chardonnay 2007, a Kekfankos 2008, and their Kadarka 2008. The Chardonnay smelled like "butter, cocoa and pickles" (??), but had a full buttery flavor. I loved it, and gave it 3.5/5 smileys (the rating scale changed with every winery). The Kekfrankos had a nose of holly and chocolate, (again, ??? I must have been in a really good mood when I was jotting down my impressions). It had a great finish, an amazing color with long ruby legs, without being too tannic. Matt gave it 4.27 smileys. Of the Kadarka, we just said, "Um...good?" We bought a lot of wine from this place.

Carrying our half-drunk glasses in tow, we began a tour of the winery. What fun! We learned so much about the process, and poked around their lab, their bottling station, where they store the barrels, and everywhere in between. We asked a million questions, and revealed our true inner nerd. Our tour guide was a great sport, and we really enjoyed our time at Sauska.

After the tour, we headed back to our hotel in Harkany for a little relaxtion before dinner. We took a quick dip in the hot tub, chatted with our friends about their day in Pecs, and then popped back out for dinner at Bock. Matt had tried Bock on his previous trip to the area, and we had been enjoying bottles of Bock wine ever since. We were excited about the tour and tasting we had booked here.

Unfortunately, we were really disappointed in both the food and the service here. We asked for a tasting of six wines, and by the fifth wine, they still hadn't even taken our dinner orders or given us the tour. When the food finally arrived-- a plate of goose cooked many different ways, for me, and a big steak for Matt-- we were bummed that it was all a) very mediocre and b) quite pricey. My first experience with goose was not terribly positive...it was one of those things you're glad you tried once but probably won't order again. Ever. We were also so fed up and hungry since we'd been sitting there for two and half hours by this time, that our patience was a little low. After dinner (and two more wines), we a got a very cursory and rushed tour of their cellar, but it wasn't much fun.

Thankfully, the wine was fantastic, and the bad dinner didn't deter us from buying a bunch from here. I won't go through each wine, but I'll tell you some highlights:

- The Szent Marton Bora, a Villanyi Portugeiser, was bottled just 11 days before we drank it. Apparrantly, they make the same wine every year and bottle it on St. Martin's Day. We thought the wine was a bit thin and young, but we bought five bottles (it was only about $8) to drink every year to watch how it matures. I thought it had notes of chocolate and poinsetta, while Matt's first words were, "notes of poo." After the first sip, he amended, "Mm, that's good poo." I thought it tasted like Christmas.

- Kekfrankos 2006: had huge tannins and was very rich, ("Like scrooge-McDuck rich), and a lot of citris-- we liked this a lot

- Bock 2003 Cuvee: simply wow, with big flavor but very balanced and warm. Our responses:

"it's a hug for my throat!" (Matt) and "My mouth is just, like, full, when I drink this." (Me. Hey, it was the 8th wine of the evening, give me a break)

The next morning, we took one last dip in the hot tub before checking out of the hotel. The only thing to do in Harkany is visit the thermal baths, but our hotel had such nice amenities, we never made it there. We then drove to a statue park just outside of Villany, where we walked around fabulous 70s sculptures in the winter sunshine.

Szabadteri Szoborpark (Open Air Statue Park) in Nagyharsany

Overlooking the vineyards on Szarsomlyo Hill

We drove back to Bock to try to buy a double magnum of their Kekfrankos. Even though it was the middle of the day, it took them nearly 45 minutes (and two wrong bottles) before they were finally able to help us. Despite the annoyance, we really enjoyed the bottle with our Christmas dinner last week. After picking up our last case of wine, we headed back through some of the other small towns in the area. I really enjoyed our "pilgrimage" to the Roman Catholic Baroque church in Mariagyud, as well as all the charming little villages scattered between vineyards.

Church in Mariagyud, a famous pilgrimage site in the area

We were almost too full and tired for lunch, but at the last minute I insisted on hitting up the final recommendation on the itinerary that our guide at set up for us. Our friends had described the incredible place they'd been to the night before, and after our poor meal at Bock, we were really jealous. Our friends had tried to make reservations for lunch on Sunday, but they were all booked. Guess where we had reservations? The same place! It was such a stroke of luck, because the food was delicious and the atmosphere was so much fun. It was called Tenkes Csarda, in Csarnota. There was a live band playing traditional music, all the chairs were long wooden benches covered in sheepskin, and it was full to the brim of families in the Sunday best. Kids climbed over the tables, the music was loud, waiters rushed from table to table, and it was just FUN. And the food! The goulash was one of the best things I've ever tasted. They served it with the most incredible fresh bread, and a little sampler platter of mustards and horseradish. We both ordered the mangalica pork wrapped in bacon for our main course. After lunch, we noticed that there was a little petting zoo with sheep and pigs and donkeys and horses right next to the restaraunt. After petting all the animals, we hopped back in the car, got lost a few times, and made it back to Sarajevo Sunday night laden with wine, full bellies, and some truly wonderful memories.

Goulash at Tenkes Csarda

Live music at Tenkes Csarda

Thanks to Carolyn at Taste Hungary (http://www.tastehungary.com) for setting this up for us! If anyone is ever heading out to that neck of the woods, definitely let her set it up for you. The language is just too hard, and it's too easy to have mis-steps like ours. When I followed her advice, we loved whatever we did. When I tried to go off-schedule, things were less successful. Thanks Carolyn!

Okay, well, that gets things up to December! In the next post, I'll catch you up on our trip to the Munich Christmas Markets, our "Chanu-cocktails" party, Christmas, and New Years, (hint: it involves the Ambassador, our living room, and "Chumbawumba").

Our haul!

2009-11-15T10:43:00.003-05:00

At the Marine Ball with Ambassador English and his wife, Patty

It's been an eventful couple of weeks, and thinking back, I wish I had taken more pictures! The week after Halloween was the Sarajevo Jazz Festival, which was wonderful. Well, it would have been truly wonderful if Matt & I hadn't come down with Swine Flu or Monkey Flu or Turkey Flu or whatever the heck kept us in bed for a week straight. Swine flu has officially made it to Bosnia and to the American community, and it's been a hot issue lately. Last week, there were 89 kids (out of 140) who were absent from the International School on a single day, and it sounds like a majority of them were actually ill. Luckily, we have an incredible medical unit here who has really gone to tremendous effort to keep things under control. Between making house calls to sick Americans (to keep them out of the Embassy) and providing lots of Tamiflu, it hasn't been so bad. I have no idea what Matt & I had, but we were useless for nearly two weeks.

Nevertheless, I wasn't going to miss the Sarajevo Jazz Festival, especially since one of my favorite jazz singers ever was playing. We have a friend who managed to get a bunch of VIP tickets, so we were able to go in style. On Tuesday, I went with my friend to see Kurt Elling, which was just as wonderful as I hoped it would be. I absolutely love his music. That night, he played some great takes on classic riffs, and Ernie Watts, the famous saxophone player, made a guest appearance. I was thrilled to see that my favorite jazz artist was not only really talented live, but was also very gracious and humble. His whole band was very talented, and Kurt, (yes, we're on a first name basis), was great at giving credit to the whole group. My favorite part was when the whole audience erupted into applause at the end, (it's always nice to find that other people like the same things you do), and clapped him back on-stage for an encore. Kurt walked back out and said, "Well, I like you too! And I haven't even gotten drunk in this city yet."

I also had one of those "how did I get here?" moments during the show-- I'm sitting there, listening to one of my favorite musicians, in Sarajevo, hanging out with my friend who got the tickets, who just happens to be the acting Dutch Ambassador. Weird.

On Thursday, Matt & I went back with our friend to see Trilok Gurtu Band. It was really more world music fusion stuff than jazz, but it was really fun. The band leader was this hilarious middle-aged man from India, who gave a stand-up show between sets. The rest of the band hailed from Australia to Canada to everywhere in between.

On Friday morning, our friend Grace came to visit, and we had a really fun weekend catching up, despite us having Bunny Flu. That night, we invited our friend Stan up to the house. Stan owns a wine shop in town, and he helped me set up a wine tasting night for Grace and some of our other friends. Stan told me exactly what to buy and what to cook for the night, so it was super easy. (He did this because when he asked what I was cooking, I replied that I wasn't. He stared. "Um, nothing besides...bruschetta?", I quickly amended. "Okay, that's good," he responded, "But make it like this...." -- lengthy description inserted here-- "What kind of cold cuts will you be serving?" "Oh, I wasn't going to do any meat..." More staring. "Here, I will write down what to buy. You must have meat.")

We sampled a bunch of Italian wines, in addition to too much rakia, and it was a great night. Stan introduced each of the wines and told us about the region. Funny, thinking back, I can't really remember any of the specifics...

We had fun hanging out the rest of the weekend, and on Sunday Grace left for her ten hour bus ride back to Zagreb, where's she's on a Fulbright. This week has been all about Maca getting her lady parts scooped out and the Marine Ball on Saturday. Here's a picture of Maca just after getting home from the vet's:

She was pretty bleary and confused, and it was hilarious/pathetic watching her drunkenly stumble around the house. She managed to weasel out of her bandage that night and to pull out one of her stitches, so the rest of the week we've been busy coming up with creative solutions to get the bandage to stay on. This is one of our failures: (we accidentally duct-taped her hind legs together and she could only walk side ways. Funny, but impractical)

It's amazing the poor thing still lets us near her after all the poking and prodding she's had this week.

Saturday night, Matt & I got all dressed up and headed out to the 234th Marine Ball, held at a local hotel here in Sarajevo. I have had so much fun getting ready for this-- what girl doesn't love an excuse to get all dolled up? When I went to my favorite local spa to get my hair done, it was full of other American women getting ready, too. Amina, my favorite spa lady, handed me a mimosa when I walked in the door, declaring "it's never too early!" When it was my turn to get my hair done, the stylist started one particular hairstyle, and then pulled it out, saying "Your forehead is too short and your ears too big for this one. I'm sorry, but seriously, why don't you get surgery for your ears?" I nearly died laughing.

The Ball itself was a blast. Matt totally wowed me and every other lady in the room when he asked me to waltz and then totally brought out some sweet dance moves. (Romantic sigh.) He even wore a tie to match my dress. Too bad the only red ties he owns include 1) red tie with Santa Clauses all over it, 2) a woolen plaid red tie and, 3) a red tie with teddy bears. He went with number three.

It must be my Navy childhood, but I just love these military ceremonies. It always makes me tear up to see young men & women giving so much of their lives for a greater cause. The Marines out here do a fantastic job; they keep us safe and provide security for the whole community. Here's a picture of some of the guys presenting the cake to the guests of honor:

Anyways, we danced all night and it was wonderful to have an opportunity to see so many of our friends, both Bosnian and American, in one room. I can't wait for the next one!

Halloween in Bosnia

2009-11-02T06:21:00.004-05:00

Happy Halloween!

I wanted to give you all a quick Halloween posting since this upcoming week is going to be so busy. We had a really wonderful weekend, full of parties and treats and beautiful weather. The fun started last Thursday, with a children's Halloween party at the Embassy. I went dressed as the Ambassador, and spent time scaring small children and painting their faces and giving them fake tattoos, etc. et. al other things that parents love. I felt especially victorious that afternoon after discovering the back way from our house into Sarajevo, since they had yet again closed down the road that connects our house to the city. That made three times in one week. I had fun driving through windy mountain roads and asking random people if I was going the right direction, (while wearing a men's suit and speaking very bad Bosnian). A man in a bread truck took pity on me and led me the rest of the way into town. Victory!

Friday night, Matt & I had some friends over for a Halloween movie night. I had a blast cooking up all those Halloween recipes I've collected over the years but have never had the excuse to make. The menu included Baked Rats, (rat-shaped meatloaf with cheese inside), ghost-shaped meringes, mummy pies (little pizzas with eyes and cheesy mummy wrapping), pumpkin bread, pumpkin cookies, pumpkin cream... etc.

The Halloween Feast

Maca and Oreo attended in their own costumes-- Maca was a bat, and Oreo went as a Chippendale's dancer.

On Saturday, I dragged myself out of bed to go on a hike up in Central Bosnia, (Matt said thanks but no thanks, and stayed home to make his costume instead). We drove up to a town called Sutjeska Kraljeva. Our first stop was an old mosque built by Mehmet II. Apparently, this Turkish guy was invading some Bosnian town nearby, and stopped to rest. There was a stick involved somehow. Anyways, Mehmet saw an ant spiraling up the stick, the way the imam ascends the stairs to call people to prayer in the minaret of a mosque. He decided that this was a sign from God that he should build a mosque here. That was about 600 years ago, but the mosque looks quite good for its age:

Next, we stopped by a local distillery for our 10am rakia break. As usual, this seemed like a great idea at the time, but was later regretted. The guy running the still was such a character-- he insisted on introducing himself to all 25 people in our tour group, and ran around filling up our cups with more drinks. It was very cool to watch the brandy being made, and I even got to turn the still!

Adding more fermented plums to the still

After the distillery, we stumbled our way to a Franciscan monastery just down the street from the mosque. The monastery had an interesting history, a really impressive ancient books collection, and a beautiful art museum. I've seen paintings of the Madonna and child from all over the world, but these were really unique-- the Holy Family all had Slavic features and there were some really beautiful pieces unlike any I'd ever seen before.

After the monastery, we began a "nice walk to Bobovac village," as our guides described it. I'm going to pause here for some sarcastic laughter, because this was quite a challenging hike, but that might just have been the rakia. It was truly beautiful, however, and I felt so lucky to have the opportunity to get out and see the fall colors. Autumn is generally quite brief here, so it was a real treat to see such beautiful scenery.

Bobovac Castle

Bobovac village was an ancient stronghold of medieval Bosnian kings, and I could see why-- it's extremely remote. The ruins of the castle stood on one peak, while an old church stood at a twin peak. I didn't get the chance to relax much here, however-- at this point, I was cold, headachy, and hungry, and made a beeline for the warm bus. Next, our guides took us down into the village proper, where some of the local women had prepared a traditional feast for us. We gathered around the fire and drank coffee, trying to escape the chill in the air that suggested winter wasn't too far away. They had set up some traditional medieval games for us to play, but most of us were too tired and cold to get into them. I did try my hand at archery, however. I'm seriously considering a change in career, I think.

I got home around 7:30 that evening, and Matt & I immediately jumped into our costumes and headed out for the costume parties. We had the best costume ever-- I was Frederick Mitterand and Matt was my Thai prostitute. Not terribly politically correct, but it was a lot of fun. I'm not sure how many people got it-- most were distracted by Matt's fabulous legs-- and I had to spend a lot of time explaining that no, I was not a Serb politician. Matt won the prize for the sexiest costume award, and I couldn't have been more proud.

We spend Sunday relaxing and enjoying Indian food with some friends. This week, the Sarajevo Jazz Festival is going to keep us busy most evenings, and we're excited about our friend Grace coming to stay with us next weekend. To tide you over for the next post, I've added a video of the house that is long overdue, (if I can get it to upload). I hope you all had a happy Halloween, and thanks for reading!