I know, I know. It's been too long. When even my parents start complaining about having to look at the same craigslist blog post for almost a month, I know it's time to stop being lazy and start blogging. And it helps that I have tons of other things that I should be doing. So of course I'd rather blog.
And it's not like I haven't had things to blog about. There's been lots to blog about: funny, strange people I've met, crazy unfoldings in my life path, major life decisions, etc.
So with no further ado, some highlights of the last month:
1) My friends Darren and Miranda took me to the Alley, got me super drunk and managed to get me to sing, by myself, in public. Twice. Anyone who knows me well can tell you that at the top of the list of things I am terrified to do is sing in public by myself. So the fact that I did it twice is an indication of just how drunk I was. And you know how they say that the anticipation of the scary thing is worse than the actual thing? It's a load of crap. The singing was scary, and not just for the people who had to listen. That will not be happening ever again.
2) Met a guy in a bar named Sean (from now on, he'll be referenced as Crazy Sean). Crazy Sean knows every bartender and every bar regular in every dive bar in Oakland, he has nothing but beer and cat food in his kitchen (literally. Not even condiments), and he thinks it'll be fun for us to go hang-gliding and then get grills from the Gold Teeth Master on Broadway in downtown Oakland. I'm looking forward to it.
3) I've decided that I'm done with the progressive non-profit/activist world (at least as a profession), because frankly, I've never really enjoyed it and I think I got into it for the wrong reasons. Some people take jobs they hate because they feel they have to make money. I think I've been taking jobs I hate because of white guilt and a misguided notion that I could and should save the world. The outcome is the same though--being stuck and miserable in a job I don't enjoy, unable and unwilling to envision a future that I could be happy with. And that's really no good--life is too short not to enjoy it.
4) So now that I've sunk 5 years into progressive activist work, what do I see myself doing? Um, not entirely sure yet. But it will involve pursuing something I love--writing, movies, travel--or some combination thereof. Maybe I'll make movies. Maybe I'll write about other people's movies. Maybe I'll take videos of other people traveling. I don't know. But I'm already excited about it. And that's something I haven't been able to say about work in a very long time.
5) Started doing temp work this past week. Wow. Being a receptionist is BO-RING. But heck, it pays the bills while I figure out what's next, so it'll do.
6) Met an Irishman named Peter at a football-watching party last weekend. He was visiting SF for a few days before continuing his world travels. As I was not yet working, I convinced him to let me show him my perfect SF day: the Exploratorium (this has been on my agenda with every guy I've dated and friend I've made in the last two years, and finally it got fulfilled!), the Golden Gate Bridge, Baker Beach at sunset, the Mission for burritos, a movie and a bar. Perfect. And I think Peter had a good time too. :-)
7) I've seen something like 7 movies in the theatre in the last 3 weeks. (It's Oscar time and I've got to get caught up!) Most of them have been fantastic, but also extremely violent. Seriously, I wish I'd been keeping a body count. What have I seen, you ask?
--Pan's Labyrinth
--Letters from Iwo Jima
--Children of Men
--The Last King of Scotland
--Volver
--The Good Shepherd
--Little Children
While I could rave about almost all of them (with the exception of The Good Shepherd, which I just wasn't in to), I'm giving a big thumbs up to Volver and Pan's Labyrinth. See them. They were amazing: resonant and beautifully made.
Et c'est tout, je crois. That's all I've got for the month of January. Sorry for the long delay, and I'll try to be better in the future.
Sunday, January 28, 2007
Thursday, January 04, 2007
Seen on "Best of. . . Craigslist"
This is why I love the Bay Area, Love BART, love craigslist and have a blog about awkward and funny things:
BART 24th-W. Oakland. You threw up on my dog. - w4m
Date: 2006-11-26, 4:35PM PST
I was hiding my new mutt puppy (Sam) in a very large bag. You got on at 24th/Mission reeking of stale booze. You sat next to me. You suddenly grabbed the bag containing Sam and vomited into it. Kudos on not dirtying the train, but I just spent the last hour desanitizing my dog with doggy shampoo. Thanks for the best BART ride of my life.
BART 24th-W. Oakland. You threw up on my dog. - w4m
Date: 2006-11-26, 4:35PM PST
I was hiding my new mutt puppy (Sam) in a very large bag. You got on at 24th/Mission reeking of stale booze. You sat next to me. You suddenly grabbed the bag containing Sam and vomited into it. Kudos on not dirtying the train, but I just spent the last hour desanitizing my dog with doggy shampoo. Thanks for the best BART ride of my life.
Tuesday, December 26, 2006
Search words
I have a site meter on my blog, which lets me keep track of how many people are looking at my blog. It also tracks all sorts of other information, like where the people who looked at my blog are, whether they use a Mac or a PC, and who their Internet Service Provider is. But one of the best things the site meter keeps track of is how people found my blog--whether they just typed in the address or if they found it through some sort of search, and if so, what words they used for the search.
This has been very educational. The blogs I wrote about IPod Dater and Mobile Alibi have apparently brought in quite a few blog readers who searched for those terms. But there have been some more unusual search terms that have somehow brought people to my blog:
"Claire in the Big City"
"Covered in Tumbleweeds"
And, my personal favorite search so far: "I hate hanging out with middle aged people"
I have no recollection of trashing middle aged people in my blog, so I'm a little puzzled how exactly searching for that would lead you to me, but there it is. I hope this middle-aged person hater enjoyed my blog, or at the very least, is now writing a blog of his or her own called "I Hate Hanging Out With People Who Are Either Middle Aged Or Embrace the Awkward." That would be pretty sweet.
This has been very educational. The blogs I wrote about IPod Dater and Mobile Alibi have apparently brought in quite a few blog readers who searched for those terms. But there have been some more unusual search terms that have somehow brought people to my blog:
"Claire in the Big City"
"Covered in Tumbleweeds"
And, my personal favorite search so far: "I hate hanging out with middle aged people"
I have no recollection of trashing middle aged people in my blog, so I'm a little puzzled how exactly searching for that would lead you to me, but there it is. I hope this middle-aged person hater enjoyed my blog, or at the very least, is now writing a blog of his or her own called "I Hate Hanging Out With People Who Are Either Middle Aged Or Embrace the Awkward." That would be pretty sweet.
Friday, December 22, 2006
Tumblin' Along With the Tumblin' Tumbleweed
As bad as the blizzard that hit Colorado on Wednesday was, the worst--or at least strangest--aspect of the storm was in Pueblo, CO, where people's homes and cars were completely covered by tumbleweeds. Some folks were literally trapped inside their homes because of the massive accumulation of tumbleweeds outside their doors.
Now don't get me wrong. In Pueblo, people were also struggling with snow and ice, but there were also the flying tumbleweeds to contend with. Apparently, when the blizzard's wind picked up, it was launching tumbleweeds all over the place and they were blocking roads, accumulating against fences and cars and buildings and gnereally making a big pain in the ass for the good people of Pueblo.
Fortunately, now that it has stopped snowing, the tumbleweed problem is fairly easy to handle. According to the news, people are just setting them on fire and watching them burn.
And just because I know this sounds odd enough that I have to think you might not believe me, I found some pictures to prove it:
Now don't get me wrong. In Pueblo, people were also struggling with snow and ice, but there were also the flying tumbleweeds to contend with. Apparently, when the blizzard's wind picked up, it was launching tumbleweeds all over the place and they were blocking roads, accumulating against fences and cars and buildings and gnereally making a big pain in the ass for the good people of Pueblo.
Fortunately, now that it has stopped snowing, the tumbleweed problem is fairly easy to handle. According to the news, people are just setting them on fire and watching them burn.
And just because I know this sounds odd enough that I have to think you might not believe me, I found some pictures to prove it:
Thursday, December 21, 2006
Welcome Home
So I'm home in Colorado for the holidays right now. Within 12 hours of my arrival in the state, nearly a foot of snow was dumped on Colorado Springs (with even more in Denver and other parts of the state) in what has been called one of the 5 worst blizzards of all time. It was so bad that Denver International Airport is SHUT DOWN, both the North-South and East-West freeways in the state have been completely closed, and Governor Owens has declared a state of emergency and called in the National Guard to help rescue and evacuate people stuck in their cars.
While it'll be nice to have a white CHristmas (assuming, that is, that any of it lasts until Monday) it has reinforced for me how much I don't really care for snow. I certainly don't care for snow enough to need to have some in the winter. I definitely don't care for snow enough to want to move back to a place like Colorado (or Boston) just to see it. Rainy and (semi-)cold is crappy, but I can accept it as a substitute for snow any day.
Also, I just want to note that my bad flight karma has finally (apparently--knock on some serious wood) broken. For the first time in years, I am not the person stranded in the airport without a flight home. And while I really feel terrible for all the people who are stranded and might not make it home for the holidays, I am grateful that for once, I--along with my luggage--safely made it home. And on time, no less.
Also, just a side note: my parents adopted yet another dog last year. His name is Sammy. He's cute enough, I guess, although kind of lacking in personality. The only thing of note about him is that he is afraid of the dark. He will literally not go outside into the yard after the sun sets. If the rest of the family goes out into the guest house (yeah, there's a guest house. I know it sounds pretentious) to watch movies, he will not follow. If he has to pee, he just won't. He'll hold it until daylight. Apparently, the dog has quite the capacity for holding it.
While it'll be nice to have a white CHristmas (assuming, that is, that any of it lasts until Monday) it has reinforced for me how much I don't really care for snow. I certainly don't care for snow enough to need to have some in the winter. I definitely don't care for snow enough to want to move back to a place like Colorado (or Boston) just to see it. Rainy and (semi-)cold is crappy, but I can accept it as a substitute for snow any day.
Also, I just want to note that my bad flight karma has finally (apparently--knock on some serious wood) broken. For the first time in years, I am not the person stranded in the airport without a flight home. And while I really feel terrible for all the people who are stranded and might not make it home for the holidays, I am grateful that for once, I--along with my luggage--safely made it home. And on time, no less.
Also, just a side note: my parents adopted yet another dog last year. His name is Sammy. He's cute enough, I guess, although kind of lacking in personality. The only thing of note about him is that he is afraid of the dark. He will literally not go outside into the yard after the sun sets. If the rest of the family goes out into the guest house (yeah, there's a guest house. I know it sounds pretentious) to watch movies, he will not follow. If he has to pee, he just won't. He'll hold it until daylight. Apparently, the dog has quite the capacity for holding it.
Monday, December 18, 2006
A pre-holiday weekend rundown
1) Always check the name of the bar before you go in and buy yourself a drink. This way, if you're not actually at the bar where you said you'd meet your friend, you don't have to either abandon a perfectly good beer when you leave to go to the correct bar, or pound down a Fat Tire in 30 seconds flat. That's kind of rough.
2) Red Velour Pants Suit? (On a man, no less.) Never a good going-out option, even if it is December.
3) Even if you suck at pool, it's still possible to win. Just hope the person you're playing scratches when they try to sink the 8-ball. Then talk shit the rest of the night like you really schooled them, despite the fact that 5 of your balls were still on the table when he scratched.
4) Chicken and Waffles? Always good. Chicken and Waffles at 3 in the morning? A gift from god.
5) If you're going to hang out in Jack London Square at 3 in the morning, be prepared to be the worst dressed people there.
6) The holiday tradition continues: get really dressed up, pretend to be swanky, then go to a posh bar and try to fit in. (While making fun of the midwestern tourists who clearly don't fit in!)
7) Even better: go to some really sketchy hole-in-the-wall place for dinner and watch people stare at you. (This year we went to Shalimar--an Indian joint in the 'Loin, and yeah, it was sketchy. Really good food, though. I highly recommend the eggplant.)
8) The Redwood Room: Where apparently it's acceptable for unattractive middle-aged people to make out and grope each other on a couch in the middle of the lobby.
9) If your waitress who looks like Natalie Maines doesn't want to get you "berry juice," don't push it. She'll hate you so much she actually trades you to a different waitress.
10) $600 on New Year's Eve at the Redwood Room will get you "a table for up to 5 people, a bottle of champagne, and admission to the party. It's a really good deal."
11) If you're looking for a good time, bring along the guy who's willing to bust out the greatest hits of the white man's dance repertoire (despite the fact that he was not white himself). He was using moves I've never even seen before, like one I'll call "the jump-rope."
12) Finally, tye-dyed pants are never never never acceptable. Especially in a place as pretentious as the Redwood room.
2) Red Velour Pants Suit? (On a man, no less.) Never a good going-out option, even if it is December.
3) Even if you suck at pool, it's still possible to win. Just hope the person you're playing scratches when they try to sink the 8-ball. Then talk shit the rest of the night like you really schooled them, despite the fact that 5 of your balls were still on the table when he scratched.
4) Chicken and Waffles? Always good. Chicken and Waffles at 3 in the morning? A gift from god.
5) If you're going to hang out in Jack London Square at 3 in the morning, be prepared to be the worst dressed people there.
6) The holiday tradition continues: get really dressed up, pretend to be swanky, then go to a posh bar and try to fit in. (While making fun of the midwestern tourists who clearly don't fit in!)
7) Even better: go to some really sketchy hole-in-the-wall place for dinner and watch people stare at you. (This year we went to Shalimar--an Indian joint in the 'Loin, and yeah, it was sketchy. Really good food, though. I highly recommend the eggplant.)
8) The Redwood Room: Where apparently it's acceptable for unattractive middle-aged people to make out and grope each other on a couch in the middle of the lobby.
9) If your waitress who looks like Natalie Maines doesn't want to get you "berry juice," don't push it. She'll hate you so much she actually trades you to a different waitress.
10) $600 on New Year's Eve at the Redwood Room will get you "a table for up to 5 people, a bottle of champagne, and admission to the party. It's a really good deal."
11) If you're looking for a good time, bring along the guy who's willing to bust out the greatest hits of the white man's dance repertoire (despite the fact that he was not white himself). He was using moves I've never even seen before, like one I'll call "the jump-rope."
12) Finally, tye-dyed pants are never never never acceptable. Especially in a place as pretentious as the Redwood room.
Friday, December 15, 2006
Wednesday, December 13, 2006
Tango
I just came back from my first post-Argentina tango lesson. I learned a fun new fact: while being in Buenos Aires definitely makes learning tango fun, tango is still fun even when you are no longer in Buenos Aires. It was really great; I wanted to keep dancing and learning new steps all night. And I actually remembered what I had learned in BA, still managed not to step on toes or full-out trip and fall on my face, and I'm slowly but surely learning how to let the guy lead. When one of my tango partners started mixing up the steps a little, I actually was able to roll with it. I think we even had moments where we almost looked graceful and like we knew what we were doing. Awesome. I will definitely be keeping this up. If anyone else is interested in joining me, it's 7:00 pm on Wednesdays, at the Lake Merritt Dance Center .
Sunday, December 10, 2006
(Belated) Weekend Update
Sorry kids--this post isn't actually about this weekend, but rather, about last weekend. I meant to get around to blogging it, but laziness and busy-ness kept me away. Still, it was random and strange enough that it deserves to be blogged. So here goes:
My friend Marcos was celebrating his 26th birthday (oh. . . .they grow up so fast!) last weekend, and since I've bailed on the last few throw-down shindigs he's had, I knew I needed to do more than just make an appearance. I needed to bring my game face. And boy did I pick the night to do it!
Things started with dinner, and cryptic whisperings between Marcos' other roommates about the rest of the evening's plans. We then walked to a club a few blocks away called Asia SF, which is best known for being a. . . wait for it. . . .
Tranny Bar.
Yup. Men dressed up as really hot women putting on quite the dance show. We spent most of our time on the lower level, dancing with a combination of transvestites and bachelorettes. (Seems Asia SF is also the place for bachelorette parties.)
After Asia SF, we got in a cab and hit our next stop of the night: a tranny Karaoke bar called Divas. This is where the night got interesting. The sight of a 6'6" man wearing platform heels and a leopard print evening gown, belting out "Total Eclipse of the Heart"--in Spanish, no less--is one that's gonna stick with you for a while. I think my life might be changed forever.
Anyway, the party rolled on into the wee hours (as it has a tendency to do when Marcos is involved. Witness my 8 hour long house-warming party in March as proof) and I think the birthday boy had a pretty good time. I know I definitely did.
My friend Marcos was celebrating his 26th birthday (oh. . . .they grow up so fast!) last weekend, and since I've bailed on the last few throw-down shindigs he's had, I knew I needed to do more than just make an appearance. I needed to bring my game face. And boy did I pick the night to do it!
Things started with dinner, and cryptic whisperings between Marcos' other roommates about the rest of the evening's plans. We then walked to a club a few blocks away called Asia SF, which is best known for being a. . . wait for it. . . .
Tranny Bar.
Yup. Men dressed up as really hot women putting on quite the dance show. We spent most of our time on the lower level, dancing with a combination of transvestites and bachelorettes. (Seems Asia SF is also the place for bachelorette parties.)
After Asia SF, we got in a cab and hit our next stop of the night: a tranny Karaoke bar called Divas. This is where the night got interesting. The sight of a 6'6" man wearing platform heels and a leopard print evening gown, belting out "Total Eclipse of the Heart"--in Spanish, no less--is one that's gonna stick with you for a while. I think my life might be changed forever.
Anyway, the party rolled on into the wee hours (as it has a tendency to do when Marcos is involved. Witness my 8 hour long house-warming party in March as proof) and I think the birthday boy had a pretty good time. I know I definitely did.
Saturday, December 09, 2006
Chemistry
Recently, some friends and I were discussing our worst first dates. It occurred to me that I don't actually have a worst first date story--I've never been on a really bad first date. Now don't get me wrong, they haven't all been fantastic, but the worst I can say is that the guy was nice but we didn't really connect. No horror stories. Nothing more awkward than running out of things to say and neither of us being that interested in what the other person wanted to talk about.
In fact, as I expand the pool to consider all the dates I've ever been on, very few of them have been bad. I can actually only think of two, and both of those were totally my fault.
This is not to say that every date I've been on has led to happily-ever-after. That's not true--certainly not in the long-term, and not even in the stort-term. (Obviously, or I wouldn't still be going on damn dates.) It's just to say that chemistry and attraction are funny things. It's funny and strange and a little mysterious how you can go on a date, and have it be a perfectly good date, with someone who is smart and funny and attractive, and not feel even remotely inclined to hang out with them again. And the fact that possessing good qualities like being smart and funny and attractive doesn't necessarily equal attraction and chemistry makes it even more mysterious when it suddenly does.
I once dated a guy who was getting his PhD by studying online dating. More specifically, he was studying how (or really, if. Or why) online attraction translated into real life attraction. We met online, and the chemistry we had in real life was both immediate and intense. But that was a total crapshoot--who the hell knows why? He was trying to discover if there was a way to determine a couple's real-life success based on how they had interacted online, or what had intially attracted them to each other online. I often wonder if he realizes that that's the 10 million dollar question of dating--is there a way to know that this other person and I are going to hit it off and work out in the long-run?
For now, there's no way to know. For now, we're left with the mystery of why we sometimes don't work with the smart, attractive guy but totally hit it off with the one who's clearly a trainwreck. For now, it's a little bit like trying on jeans. The number on the tag says that the jeans should work, but you still have to try on a hell of a lot of pairs to find one that really fits.
In fact, as I expand the pool to consider all the dates I've ever been on, very few of them have been bad. I can actually only think of two, and both of those were totally my fault.
This is not to say that every date I've been on has led to happily-ever-after. That's not true--certainly not in the long-term, and not even in the stort-term. (Obviously, or I wouldn't still be going on damn dates.) It's just to say that chemistry and attraction are funny things. It's funny and strange and a little mysterious how you can go on a date, and have it be a perfectly good date, with someone who is smart and funny and attractive, and not feel even remotely inclined to hang out with them again. And the fact that possessing good qualities like being smart and funny and attractive doesn't necessarily equal attraction and chemistry makes it even more mysterious when it suddenly does.
I once dated a guy who was getting his PhD by studying online dating. More specifically, he was studying how (or really, if. Or why) online attraction translated into real life attraction. We met online, and the chemistry we had in real life was both immediate and intense. But that was a total crapshoot--who the hell knows why? He was trying to discover if there was a way to determine a couple's real-life success based on how they had interacted online, or what had intially attracted them to each other online. I often wonder if he realizes that that's the 10 million dollar question of dating--is there a way to know that this other person and I are going to hit it off and work out in the long-run?
For now, there's no way to know. For now, we're left with the mystery of why we sometimes don't work with the smart, attractive guy but totally hit it off with the one who's clearly a trainwreck. For now, it's a little bit like trying on jeans. The number on the tag says that the jeans should work, but you still have to try on a hell of a lot of pairs to find one that really fits.
Tuesday, December 05, 2006
Genius
The link to the site Instructables was left in a comment on my blog recently. It's basically a site where people document how they made something. There was also a special link to this project, a cosahedron made out of pecan pie.
As you can see, it's pretty awesome. But what is even more awesome is the amount of work--and mechanical know-how and precision--that went into making it.
I don't know whether to be admiring or horrified that there are people out there with this much time they're willing to dedicate to building structures out of pie.
As you can see, it's pretty awesome. But what is even more awesome is the amount of work--and mechanical know-how and precision--that went into making it.I don't know whether to be admiring or horrified that there are people out there with this much time they're willing to dedicate to building structures out of pie.
Monday, December 04, 2006
Argentina: Favorite Things Part 3
I definitely need to blog about my weekend (which was truly bizarre), but first, one more post about Argentina. The one thing my friend Sejal was insistent that we do before we could leave the country was take tango lessons. We were we all pretty excited about doing that when we were still in the States and it was just a funny idea; however, everyone's enthusiasm (except Sejal's) had severely waned by the time we actually got around to taking the lessons.
Nevertheless, Sejal dragged us all to the Academy of Tango where Rosalinda the Tango Teacher tried to teach us the basics. We all did pretty well, and I think we were even feeling like pretty hot shit until we looked up and saw the students in the advanced class, spinning and dipping and wrapping their legs around each other like they were playing a serious game of Twister.
Nevertheless, Sejal dragged us all to the Academy of Tango where Rosalinda the Tango Teacher tried to teach us the basics. We all did pretty well, and I think we were even feeling like pretty hot shit until we looked up and saw the students in the advanced class, spinning and dipping and wrapping their legs around each other like they were playing a serious game of Twister.
Me and Rosalinda the Tango TeacherI don't know that I'll ever get to that level (although I'm thinking about keeping up the lessons here in the Bay Area), but I felt pretty good that I managed to let the guy lead, didn't step on anyone's toes and never once was at risk of tripping and falling on my face. I think that's about as good as it gets.
See? I'm not stepping on his feet!And it helps that we all looked hot, too. A little overdressed (OK--a lot) compared to our tango classmates, but I like to think it helped my dancing skills.
This is Jeff, the middle-aged close talker from Mill Valley. 
4 Hot Women and a Tango TeacherThursday, November 30, 2006
Ridiculous levels of inefficiency
Today I experienced something that made me (if only for a moment) re-think my opposition to privatization. I attempted to pick up my mail from the post office.
You see, I've been on vacation, so I had the post office hold my mail for me. And knowing that I have a pretty small mailbox and that my postman already has a disposition to mangle my magazines, bills and Netflix envelopes when he attempts to squash them into said very small mailbox, I elected to just pick up my two weeks of mail, instead of having it all delivered to me when I got back.
I did not realize when I made this decision to pick up my mail that it would take me nearly 3 hours, and trips to 4--yes 4--different post offices. I started with the post office nearest my house. (It seemed like a logical place for them to hold my mail.) They said they didn't hold mail there, and that I needed to go to the main office in West Oakland. When I arrived at the main office, they told me they didn't handle mail from my zip code and I needed to go to the Downtown Oakland office. After waiting in three separate lines at that office, I was told that they didn't handle my zip code either and that I should go back to the one in my neighborhood. When I pointed out that that was, in fact, where I had started out, the clerk looked confused, fumbled through two handbooks of postal regulations before she suggested--suggested, because very clearly she had no idea where my mail should have gone--that I try another, smaller post office in West Oakland.
Thankfully, after only 20 minutes of listening to one postal clerk patiently explain to a customer why they didn't sell 37 cent stamps anymore, I was able to explain my situation and finally get my mail. I know it's sacrilege, but I couldn't help but think that if Bill Gates or even Rupert Murdoch were running the US Postal Service, they probably would have known where my mail was and would have found it much much quicker. As it is, I'm thinking I'm gonna forgo holiday cards this year. I'd hate to stand in line for stamps only to find out that they don't actually sell them at that branch.
You see, I've been on vacation, so I had the post office hold my mail for me. And knowing that I have a pretty small mailbox and that my postman already has a disposition to mangle my magazines, bills and Netflix envelopes when he attempts to squash them into said very small mailbox, I elected to just pick up my two weeks of mail, instead of having it all delivered to me when I got back.
I did not realize when I made this decision to pick up my mail that it would take me nearly 3 hours, and trips to 4--yes 4--different post offices. I started with the post office nearest my house. (It seemed like a logical place for them to hold my mail.) They said they didn't hold mail there, and that I needed to go to the main office in West Oakland. When I arrived at the main office, they told me they didn't handle mail from my zip code and I needed to go to the Downtown Oakland office. After waiting in three separate lines at that office, I was told that they didn't handle my zip code either and that I should go back to the one in my neighborhood. When I pointed out that that was, in fact, where I had started out, the clerk looked confused, fumbled through two handbooks of postal regulations before she suggested--suggested, because very clearly she had no idea where my mail should have gone--that I try another, smaller post office in West Oakland.
Thankfully, after only 20 minutes of listening to one postal clerk patiently explain to a customer why they didn't sell 37 cent stamps anymore, I was able to explain my situation and finally get my mail. I know it's sacrilege, but I couldn't help but think that if Bill Gates or even Rupert Murdoch were running the US Postal Service, they probably would have known where my mail was and would have found it much much quicker. As it is, I'm thinking I'm gonna forgo holiday cards this year. I'd hate to stand in line for stamps only to find out that they don't actually sell them at that branch.
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
Argentina: Favorite Things Part 2
So I want to talk more about yummy food. And yummy wine also. Seriously, the food and wine were so good that they merit multiple blog posts.
Argentina is known for its beef, and rightfully so. I took it upon myself to eat beef at least once a day (and sometimes twice!) while we were there, in search of the perfect steak. I discovered it, paired with a nice 2004 Cabernet Sauvignon, at the Ruca Malen vineyard in Mendoza.
This is a picture of me with the best steak I've ever had in my life. See how happy I look! While eating at the vineyard, I also got to experience a tower made of chopped beets and covered with a dusting of parmesan cheese (actually kind of gross, but paired with a really amazing 2004 Malbec--I brought a bottle back that's just begging to be opened) and some sort of flan made of dulce de leche. Now I don't like dulce de leche because it's too sweet. And I have the sweet tooth of champions, so I feel like that's really saying something. I also don't like flan (because the texture is yucky), but I would happily continue to eat this flan for every dessert for the rest of my life if they would let me. It was that good.
Sejal and the beet tower
Monday, November 27, 2006
Gorgeous
While my friends were most excited about going to Buenos Aires (from here on known as BA), I was more excited about Bariloche, a Northern Patagonia town in the lake district of Argentina, and Mendoza, in the wine country of Argentina, located at the foot of the Argentine side of the Andes.
Neither disappointed. Mendoza looked and felt remarkably like home, with its dry climate, craggy mountains, and lack of vegetation (other than grape vines, of course).
We took the opportunity to go white water rafting on the Rio Mendoza while we were there. And by white water rafting, I really mean brown water. Because the water was moving so fast, it was stirring up all the sediment washed off the slopes of nearby mountains, making the water brown. And we're talking about a lot of sediment in this water--I was wiping brown grit off my face for the rest of the day. But it was totally worth it to get a fast river with non-stop rapids.
Neither disappointed. Mendoza looked and felt remarkably like home, with its dry climate, craggy mountains, and lack of vegetation (other than grape vines, of course).
We took the opportunity to go white water rafting on the Rio Mendoza while we were there. And by white water rafting, I really mean brown water. Because the water was moving so fast, it was stirring up all the sediment washed off the slopes of nearby mountains, making the water brown. And we're talking about a lot of sediment in this water--I was wiping brown grit off my face for the rest of the day. But it was totally worth it to get a fast river with non-stop rapids.Bariloche was pretty awesome also. Cold and super windy, but gorgeous nonetheless. This photo was taken from the top of Cerro Otto, one of many "mountain" peaks in the region. (Mountain goes in quotes because as anyone who knows me well could tell you, I have pretty stringent standards for what I think should technically be considered a mountain, and Cerro Otto definitely falls short. It was still pretty though.)
I should point out that we actually went to the top of Cerro Otto twice. The first day we climbed to the top (because the gondola to the top wasn't running yet), but it was overcast and yes, snowing, so none of my pictures turned out that well. We had no intentions of going again, but when we awoke the next morning and found that the gondola had suddenly decided to run, we thought we'd try again to get some decent photos (and also to witness from above how ridiculously steep the previous day's trail to the top had been).
Forget switchbacks--this trail went straight up the side of the mountain!
Oh. One more thing about Bariloche. I'm convinced it's the hippy new-age capital of Patagonia. The Berkeley of Argentina, if you will. We saw Pilates studios and incense burners everywhere. And then we saw this guy, juggling/interpretive dancing in the street.
It reminds of me the first time I drove through Berkeley, and as I stopped at a red light at the corner of Ashby and College, a guy on a unicycle carrying rainbow streamers wheeled out into the intersection and did a little streamer/cycle dance until the light changed.
It's good to see that some things are universal.
It's a sock. It's a Flip-flop. No, It's a Sock-Flop!
One more example of a horrifying fashion trend that seems to be taking Argentina by storm. . . . the Sock-Flop.
And, here's a photo to prove that you can even wear your Hammer Pants on the hottest of days, because they come in shorts too!
And, here's a photo to prove that you can even wear your Hammer Pants on the hottest of days, because they come in shorts too!
Friday, November 24, 2006
Argentina: Favorite Things Part I
So now that I've gotten the ugly out of the way, I can focus on the fun, fantastic, hillarious, and yummy. Let's start with yummy. Argentines are big on the concept of afternoon tea (even though they don't actually drink tea at tea--mostly they drink coffee). I think this may be the best concept ever. Especially considering that they don't eat dinner until 10 or 11 at night--a late afternoon snack and some caffeine is definitely in order.
In our extensive study of afternoon tea, we came across several options that were always big winners: Medialunas and submarinos. Medialunas are little baby croissants, most often glazed ever-so-lightly with some sugary stuff, but I guess they can be savory with cheese and ham also. We liked the sweets ones. This is my friend Brianne, expressing her feelings about medialunas (with, coincidentally, a medialuna).
In our extensive study of afternoon tea, we came across several options that were always big winners: Medialunas and submarinos. Medialunas are little baby croissants, most often glazed ever-so-lightly with some sugary stuff, but I guess they can be savory with cheese and ham also. We liked the sweets ones. This is my friend Brianne, expressing her feelings about medialunas (with, coincidentally, a medialuna).
Now submarinos (yup--Spanish for submarine) are the perfect beverage pairing with sweet medialunas. The basic deal is that a submarino consists of steamed milk that comes with a small bar of chocolate, that you then dunk in the milk and stir up until it's melted, giving you a slightly less rich, less sweet (but still fantastic) version of do-it-yourself hot chocolate. And while that's already a pretty awesome beverage concept, what makes it even better is that normally, the little bars of chocolate are actually shaped like submarines. (Get it? You're submerging your submarine into the liquid, just like you would with a real one! So smart!) Below, Sejal and I demonstrate the appropriate submarino submerging/mixing technique.
The steamed milk and "submarine" chocolate
Submerging the "submarine"
Stirring up the submarino to prepare it for consumptionArgentina: First the ugly
I'm back from Argentina. It was a fabulous, hillarious and all-together too short vacation with friends I love dearly, and I have tons of great fun stories to tell. But since I'm still feeling a little lazy after all the turkey consumption yesterday, I thought I'd start with something short and fast: the ugly parts of Argentina.
In no particular order, here were the things about Argentina (and Buenos Aires in particular) that I found less than appealing:
1) The men. Actually, that's not quite true. The men were fine; it was the hair that was the problem. It seems that faux hawks, mullets and yes, rat-tails are the hip and trendy look in Argentina right now. It was a little like being trapped in a bad 80's movie starring Billy Ray Cyrus. (And here's some even worse news for other mullet/rat-tail hating women of the world: my hairstylist just got back from some big hair conference and she tells me that mullets are the next big thing in men's hair styles here in the States. I'm shuddering in horror just thinking about it.)
2) Hammer pants. Yes, not only are mullets and rat-tails staging a comeback, but Hammer pants for women are also coming back. (For those of you who were asleep--or not yet alive--in the late 80's and early 90's, Hammer pants were made popular by one Mr. MC Hammer, and consist of baggy pants with a very roomy crotch and tightly bound ankles. They were often found in garish colors, or in gold and silver. And I'm sorry, I know MC has gone on to be a pastor at some church in the South Bay, but there is no number of souls he could save that would un-do the fashion travesty that was--and apparently still is--Hammer pants.)
This is my friend Sejal trying to rock the full-length hammer pants, but even more horrifying were the Hammer shorts that we found on sale all throughout BA.
3) This is probably the worst. According to my new BA-inhabiting friend Angie (and TimeOut Argentina Magazine) the thing to do when you're short on cash but still looking to get something waxed (because apparently Argentines are very big on waxing away body hair--at least on women) is to go for second-hand wax. That's right. That means that they re-heat the wax that has already been used to yank out god knows which hairs from some other woman before they apply it to you. I'm all for saving a buck, but that's seriously disgusting.
In no particular order, here were the things about Argentina (and Buenos Aires in particular) that I found less than appealing:
1) The men. Actually, that's not quite true. The men were fine; it was the hair that was the problem. It seems that faux hawks, mullets and yes, rat-tails are the hip and trendy look in Argentina right now. It was a little like being trapped in a bad 80's movie starring Billy Ray Cyrus. (And here's some even worse news for other mullet/rat-tail hating women of the world: my hairstylist just got back from some big hair conference and she tells me that mullets are the next big thing in men's hair styles here in the States. I'm shuddering in horror just thinking about it.)
2) Hammer pants. Yes, not only are mullets and rat-tails staging a comeback, but Hammer pants for women are also coming back. (For those of you who were asleep--or not yet alive--in the late 80's and early 90's, Hammer pants were made popular by one Mr. MC Hammer, and consist of baggy pants with a very roomy crotch and tightly bound ankles. They were often found in garish colors, or in gold and silver. And I'm sorry, I know MC has gone on to be a pastor at some church in the South Bay, but there is no number of souls he could save that would un-do the fashion travesty that was--and apparently still is--Hammer pants.)
This is my friend Sejal trying to rock the full-length hammer pants, but even more horrifying were the Hammer shorts that we found on sale all throughout BA.
3) This is probably the worst. According to my new BA-inhabiting friend Angie (and TimeOut Argentina Magazine) the thing to do when you're short on cash but still looking to get something waxed (because apparently Argentines are very big on waxing away body hair--at least on women) is to go for second-hand wax. That's right. That means that they re-heat the wax that has already been used to yank out god knows which hairs from some other woman before they apply it to you. I'm all for saving a buck, but that's seriously disgusting.
Thursday, November 09, 2006
A Small Blog Hiatus
I am leaving for Argentina in T-minus 9 hours. Wooohoo! And in remarkably un-Claire-like fashion, I am already totally packed. No crazy drunken packing. No scrambling to throw stuff in a bag at the last minute.
But alas, the downside of going to Argentina is that my blog will be taking a hiatus. But just a baby one. Hardly noticeable even. Certainly shorter than the ones that network television stations take right smack in the middle of the season so you're left wondering if Meredith Grey got blown up by a bomb in the OR. (Or fill in the blank with whatever television show you are embarassingly and unreasonably addicted to.)
I'll be back in the country on Thanksgiving Eve, and the first thing I'll be doing (after consuming ungodly amounts of turkey and pie) will be blogging. I'm planning on having great adventures, doing ridiculous things and taking good notes while I'm gone, so I'm sure there will be plenty to blog about.
See you on the flip side of November. . . .
But alas, the downside of going to Argentina is that my blog will be taking a hiatus. But just a baby one. Hardly noticeable even. Certainly shorter than the ones that network television stations take right smack in the middle of the season so you're left wondering if Meredith Grey got blown up by a bomb in the OR. (Or fill in the blank with whatever television show you are embarassingly and unreasonably addicted to.)
I'll be back in the country on Thanksgiving Eve, and the first thing I'll be doing (after consuming ungodly amounts of turkey and pie) will be blogging. I'm planning on having great adventures, doing ridiculous things and taking good notes while I'm gone, so I'm sure there will be plenty to blog about.
See you on the flip side of November. . . .
Tuesday, November 07, 2006
The Things We Do For Love
My gym is currently being renovated, so they've squeezed all the cardio machines into the back of the weights area, next to the classroom where they hold step aerobics classes. This means that all the cardio machine do-ers have a prime view of the people in the classes.
Now normally, even with my Ipod going, I am somewhat bored while I run at the gym. But not tonight. Because tonight I watched the advanced step class. And more specifically, I watched the one young guy in the class, clearly there with his girlfriend, as he tried to keep up. Mostly he just stood on the top of his step and looked confused. When he actually did the stepping part, he was often facing the wrong direction, or lifting the wrong leg. I felt kind of bad for him. But finally, he seemed to be getting the steps down and was really getting into it.
Until he tripped on his step and wiped out on the floor.
Now normally, even with my Ipod going, I am somewhat bored while I run at the gym. But not tonight. Because tonight I watched the advanced step class. And more specifically, I watched the one young guy in the class, clearly there with his girlfriend, as he tried to keep up. Mostly he just stood on the top of his step and looked confused. When he actually did the stepping part, he was often facing the wrong direction, or lifting the wrong leg. I felt kind of bad for him. But finally, he seemed to be getting the steps down and was really getting into it.
Until he tripped on his step and wiped out on the floor.
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