Every once in a while I find myself thinking about the possibility of having a past life. More often than that I picture myself being born in a different decade...which may be because I haven't quite found my place in my generation. But either way, I think about it more often than not. And usually the whole "past life" question comes to mind when I'm reading Vonnegut or Hemingway, something harsh and modern...usually tearing mankind a new one. But today it struck me in the middle of a Philosophy class...which may sound like just another place for ripping mankind a new one. But today was different. I just faded out of our conversation about Moral Luck and into a new world of possibility. Maybe the whole reason I feel estranged from my generation is not because I should have been born in a different time, but maybe it's because I was in fact born in another time.
There are so many things that I don't agree with in this world: war, vengeance, and the general disapproval of carbohydrate-loaded foods. I know that if I had been born in some other time I would have found something to be upset about, something to disagree with. That's human nature in a nutshell. We all want to be right even if it means disagreeing with someone who holds our same opinion with a twist.
But how did I get here? Obviously I understand how the whole process works, but how was my existence chosen for this place, at this point in time? I was born into a wealthy and free society. Bur what about everyone else in the world who was not as fortunate? Was it written in the stars millions of years ago that my ancestry would work down to my birth? Do I have that "twin" soul people believe in, who walks on the Earth but never finds a match? Or was I really somebody else before this time, sent to do something more for this world?
Sometimes it is so overwhelming to think that I have thoughts in my head that are entirely different from the person sitting next to me. And to add to that, I will never fully understand why or how they think differently. I often wonder if there is another person out there with my exact same history, my exact same present, and my exact same manner of thinking. I wonder if there is someone out there (dead or alive) who shares my exact feelings.
And to take this crazy train of thought even further, I wonder if I will one day become somebody else too. I wish I could make a time-capsule that my future self will one day find and understand that they too are an old soul. Maybe I'll find a time-capsule with my name on it. And if I do, I guarantee a heart-attack will follow.
Okay, enough craziness for one day.
Peace, love, and cheers to being an old soul in a 21 year old's body...
Monday, November 14, 2011
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
When honey and maple syrup meet...
Anytime I have to venture into downtown Miami I find myself moaning a bit, dreading the traffic and the strange one-way roads that appear to stop and start whenever they feel like it. Normally I would opt for the metro method, but I just couldn't be bothered today. So I crossed my fingers and hoped that three hours would be enough time to get downtown, eat lunch at a restaurant, and drive back to campus.
A few months ago I bought a Groupon for ten bucks. I received $20 to First and First Southern Baking Company. The menu seemed like any other southern menu, with a few healthier kicks involved. What I didn't realize was that there was not only a wide variety of baked delicacies, but a pretty good array of meals too. Of course I waited until the last day the Groupon was valid, aka today, to go over there and try out the food.
When I stepped inside, I immediately thought I was in Crowne Candy Ice Cream joint back in St. Louis. The smells were incredible. Empanadas. Cake batter. Fried chicken. The works. And to top it all off, the Cooking Channel was playing in the front window. Julia Child was chirping away, telling the world how to best make a French stock for beef soup. Everything was so bright and inviting. Exactly how I picture my bakery to be one day. The cases held homemade cupcakes of flavors I would never have considered, along with a few others that I've managed to play with. But I had to eat lunch before I could stare at and/or drool over the baked goods.
Obviously I opted for the most Southern meal on the menu. Chicken and waffles. With honey maple syrup. YES, I said....honey maple syrup. The two best liquid forms of sugar out there, and they have been combined to go alongside one of the best breakfast and one of the best dinner time flavors. I skipped out on the side of macaroni and cheese, and chose to get a nice helping of green bean casserole. There really is only one way to make green bean casserole. Oober creamy, with a crunchy top. So that would be the determiner for how good this place really is.
About ten minutes, and two segments of Julia Child later, I am surprised by an incredible plate of food. I'm not sure why restaurants choose to give you a huge helping of main course and a HUGE helping of side, but for some reason, the South has given us the concept of smaller portions for sides. I am greeted by a warm, golden (homemade) buttermilk waffle sitting underneath strips of fried chicken in a secret battered recipe. From what I could tell, there was definitely some paprika and cayenne involved. The green beans were invisible underneath the layer of fried onions sitting on top of the mini casserole dish. Inside, I found each green bean smothered in a white gravy sauce, and bits of (I believe) mushrooms were found every few bites. But I could hardly tell, they may not have even included them...which would be great.
Every bite was great by itself. Chicken, awesome. Waffle, awesome. Green bean casserole, fantastic. But what brought it all together was that amazing medley of honey and maple syrup. They just started a ménage à trois of goodness in my mouth with anything I bit into.
I could have stayed there all day, but I knew the garage fee would cost more than my meal did. So I grabbed some cupcakes to give a try, and I will obviously try to recreate the recipes on my own if they seem worthy. I will return to try to the Mojito Cake on a day they actually have it, and I WILL try everything on that menu before leaving Miami.
Did I almost forget to mention they have gift cards? Well, they have gift cards. ::cough cough::
Now, drool over this picture and envy my adventure. Or, invite me along when you decide to venture over to First and First Southern Baking Company.
A few months ago I bought a Groupon for ten bucks. I received $20 to First and First Southern Baking Company. The menu seemed like any other southern menu, with a few healthier kicks involved. What I didn't realize was that there was not only a wide variety of baked delicacies, but a pretty good array of meals too. Of course I waited until the last day the Groupon was valid, aka today, to go over there and try out the food.
When I stepped inside, I immediately thought I was in Crowne Candy Ice Cream joint back in St. Louis. The smells were incredible. Empanadas. Cake batter. Fried chicken. The works. And to top it all off, the Cooking Channel was playing in the front window. Julia Child was chirping away, telling the world how to best make a French stock for beef soup. Everything was so bright and inviting. Exactly how I picture my bakery to be one day. The cases held homemade cupcakes of flavors I would never have considered, along with a few others that I've managed to play with. But I had to eat lunch before I could stare at and/or drool over the baked goods.
Obviously I opted for the most Southern meal on the menu. Chicken and waffles. With honey maple syrup. YES, I said....honey maple syrup. The two best liquid forms of sugar out there, and they have been combined to go alongside one of the best breakfast and one of the best dinner time flavors. I skipped out on the side of macaroni and cheese, and chose to get a nice helping of green bean casserole. There really is only one way to make green bean casserole. Oober creamy, with a crunchy top. So that would be the determiner for how good this place really is.
About ten minutes, and two segments of Julia Child later, I am surprised by an incredible plate of food. I'm not sure why restaurants choose to give you a huge helping of main course and a HUGE helping of side, but for some reason, the South has given us the concept of smaller portions for sides. I am greeted by a warm, golden (homemade) buttermilk waffle sitting underneath strips of fried chicken in a secret battered recipe. From what I could tell, there was definitely some paprika and cayenne involved. The green beans were invisible underneath the layer of fried onions sitting on top of the mini casserole dish. Inside, I found each green bean smothered in a white gravy sauce, and bits of (I believe) mushrooms were found every few bites. But I could hardly tell, they may not have even included them...which would be great.
Every bite was great by itself. Chicken, awesome. Waffle, awesome. Green bean casserole, fantastic. But what brought it all together was that amazing medley of honey and maple syrup. They just started a ménage à trois of goodness in my mouth with anything I bit into.
I could have stayed there all day, but I knew the garage fee would cost more than my meal did. So I grabbed some cupcakes to give a try, and I will obviously try to recreate the recipes on my own if they seem worthy. I will return to try to the Mojito Cake on a day they actually have it, and I WILL try everything on that menu before leaving Miami.
Did I almost forget to mention they have gift cards? Well, they have gift cards. ::cough cough::
Now, drool over this picture and envy my adventure. Or, invite me along when you decide to venture over to First and First Southern Baking Company.
Sunday, October 2, 2011
Une vraie féministe.
Il me semble que les femmes du 18ème siècle ne sont pas heureuse. (Insert large "DUH" here...) Mais il me semble aussi que les femmes de l'époque présente ne sont plus heureuse. Alors, qu'est-ce qui se passe? Pendant le dix-huitième siècle, les femmes n'ont pas de droits, pas d'argent, et pas d'éducation (si elles n'ont pas d'argent). Et maintenant, nous avons presque les même droits, un rôle plus important dans la société, et nous avons le choix de mariage. Pourquoi sommes-nous si furieuses tout le temps?
Je n'ai pas de talent de converser et de m'instruire avec eux, ni l'activité que je voudrois avoir. Je porterois mes défauts dans les charges publiques, et j'aurois, de plus, le tort de m'y être placé moi-même, au lieu que la Providence m'a placé ici. -Les lettres de Mistriss Henley publiée par son ami
Femme intelligente, très belle, et absolument misérable. Et pourquoi? Elle a toutes les possibilités du monde, mais elle ne le réalise pas. Pendant cet période, elle ne peut pas avoir toutes les possibilités du monde à cause de son sexe. Mais maintenant, nous n'avons pas de raison d'être misérable comme elle. A mon avis, nous aimons râler trop...et puis nous croyons pourquoi les hommes n'aiment pas nous écouter. (Uh, hello...it's because we're annoying!)
Je sent pour les femmes de l'époque des Lumières. Tout le monde est en train de changer, sans elles. Tous les hommes sont en train de changer leur point de vue, de leur manière de penser, d'avoir une voix, mais les femmes n'ont pas d'espace dans ce monde. Aujourd'hui, nous avons une grande place de vivre librement, mais je ne pense pas que les femmes le savent. Elles s'attendent que le monde va être emballé, avec un ruban luisant-- mais ce n'est pas le cas. Si nous avons le droit de faire ce que nous voulons, nous devons le prendre. Nous devons accepter ce défi de l'époque. Parce que à mon avis, les femmes du dix-huitième siècle, elles ont battu nos ânes si elles avaient une moitié des possibilités que nous avons aujourd'hui.
Elles étaient les vrais féministes, avant que le titre a été créé.
Je n'ai pas de talent de converser et de m'instruire avec eux, ni l'activité que je voudrois avoir. Je porterois mes défauts dans les charges publiques, et j'aurois, de plus, le tort de m'y être placé moi-même, au lieu que la Providence m'a placé ici. -Les lettres de Mistriss Henley publiée par son ami
Femme intelligente, très belle, et absolument misérable. Et pourquoi? Elle a toutes les possibilités du monde, mais elle ne le réalise pas. Pendant cet période, elle ne peut pas avoir toutes les possibilités du monde à cause de son sexe. Mais maintenant, nous n'avons pas de raison d'être misérable comme elle. A mon avis, nous aimons râler trop...et puis nous croyons pourquoi les hommes n'aiment pas nous écouter. (Uh, hello...it's because we're annoying!)
Je sent pour les femmes de l'époque des Lumières. Tout le monde est en train de changer, sans elles. Tous les hommes sont en train de changer leur point de vue, de leur manière de penser, d'avoir une voix, mais les femmes n'ont pas d'espace dans ce monde. Aujourd'hui, nous avons une grande place de vivre librement, mais je ne pense pas que les femmes le savent. Elles s'attendent que le monde va être emballé, avec un ruban luisant-- mais ce n'est pas le cas. Si nous avons le droit de faire ce que nous voulons, nous devons le prendre. Nous devons accepter ce défi de l'époque. Parce que à mon avis, les femmes du dix-huitième siècle, elles ont battu nos ânes si elles avaient une moitié des possibilités que nous avons aujourd'hui.
Elles étaient les vrais féministes, avant que le titre a été créé.
Thursday, September 29, 2011
Cookie dough bliss.
"Jeez. Is there anything you can't make?"
I'd love to be able to say, "Of course there is...." but I wouldn't have anything to follow-up with after the beginning of that sentence. Ever since I can remember, when I was handed something, (whether it be a homework problem, a sport challenge, or a recipe) I could usually figure out how to make it work in the end. Frustrations would rise, tears may have fallen, but in the end I made it work. And that's how baking has always been for me.
I find a recipe, either slightly challenging from an oldy-but-goody, or extremely new and exciting, and I just have at it. I don't expect perfection, I crave it. When it comes to baking, all bets are off. I feel safe when I work the dough through my hands, adding each ingredient in its perfect amount, at just the right time. All the problems of my own personal world can be solved while the blender is on and I'm scraping the sides of the bowl.
Brown sugar makes me smile. It's sweet and mysterious. But I don't think that's why I love it. I think it's because of how many different ways it can be used. You can toss it on a peanut butter sandwich to make it a dessert. You can throw it on top of a cookie to caramelize in the oven. You can make butterscotch candies in about ten minutes. And who doesn't love butterscotch? It's such a simple ingredient, but it demands the right amount of attention. Too much and you end up getting a crunch on your cookie (is that what she said?), too little and you might as well have never added it in. Brown sugar may be subtle when baked into a recipe, but it'll kick your recipes ass if you don't watch out. Sweet, but fierce. Yeah, that's why I love it.
And cinnamon too. Man I loveeee me some cinnamon. Warm in flavor, it adds just the perfect amount of home we all crave when we bite into a cookie. Sometimes I see the questioning look in a person's eyes just before they bite into one of mine. Slightly skeptical of whether or not the cookie will hold up to their mother's old recipe from way-back-when. But it's usually the cinnamon that brings them home. There's a small change in flavor that takes place, and it starts something new with whoever is chowing down. A little affair never hurt anyone, right? Well, not really...but with finding new cookies I think it's safe to say Moms won't be hurt.
I may bake to bring smiles, but I mostly bake for myself-- for the challenge, for the relaxation, for the time to myself. It's my one time to shine, where I know I won't screw up, where there's no pressure. It's just me, a few sticks of butter and the intuition my grandmothers bestowed upon me. So here I sit, putting off my French literature paper while I dream about the butterscotch cookies I'm about to make. Maybe I'll even figure out a way to find world peace. Wouldn't that be quite the challenge?
Peace, love, and butterscotch morsels in my mouth.
I'd love to be able to say, "Of course there is...." but I wouldn't have anything to follow-up with after the beginning of that sentence. Ever since I can remember, when I was handed something, (whether it be a homework problem, a sport challenge, or a recipe) I could usually figure out how to make it work in the end. Frustrations would rise, tears may have fallen, but in the end I made it work. And that's how baking has always been for me.
I find a recipe, either slightly challenging from an oldy-but-goody, or extremely new and exciting, and I just have at it. I don't expect perfection, I crave it. When it comes to baking, all bets are off. I feel safe when I work the dough through my hands, adding each ingredient in its perfect amount, at just the right time. All the problems of my own personal world can be solved while the blender is on and I'm scraping the sides of the bowl.
Brown sugar makes me smile. It's sweet and mysterious. But I don't think that's why I love it. I think it's because of how many different ways it can be used. You can toss it on a peanut butter sandwich to make it a dessert. You can throw it on top of a cookie to caramelize in the oven. You can make butterscotch candies in about ten minutes. And who doesn't love butterscotch? It's such a simple ingredient, but it demands the right amount of attention. Too much and you end up getting a crunch on your cookie (is that what she said?), too little and you might as well have never added it in. Brown sugar may be subtle when baked into a recipe, but it'll kick your recipes ass if you don't watch out. Sweet, but fierce. Yeah, that's why I love it.
And cinnamon too. Man I loveeee me some cinnamon. Warm in flavor, it adds just the perfect amount of home we all crave when we bite into a cookie. Sometimes I see the questioning look in a person's eyes just before they bite into one of mine. Slightly skeptical of whether or not the cookie will hold up to their mother's old recipe from way-back-when. But it's usually the cinnamon that brings them home. There's a small change in flavor that takes place, and it starts something new with whoever is chowing down. A little affair never hurt anyone, right? Well, not really...but with finding new cookies I think it's safe to say Moms won't be hurt.
I may bake to bring smiles, but I mostly bake for myself-- for the challenge, for the relaxation, for the time to myself. It's my one time to shine, where I know I won't screw up, where there's no pressure. It's just me, a few sticks of butter and the intuition my grandmothers bestowed upon me. So here I sit, putting off my French literature paper while I dream about the butterscotch cookies I'm about to make. Maybe I'll even figure out a way to find world peace. Wouldn't that be quite the challenge?
Peace, love, and butterscotch morsels in my mouth.
Friday, September 2, 2011
New Favorite Buttercream
The art of icing is actually a lot easier than most people think. There's not much to a great icing-- butter, confectioners' sugar, maybe some milk, a dash of vanilla, a bit of salt, and of course any other flavor you want to incorporate into the mix. For years though, I've only played with the easy flavors...vanilla, chocolate, and lemon. You either make the recipe just how you're supposed to; you add a little mocha powder instead of just confectioners' sugar; or even better, you toss in a little lemon juice. And voila! You have your homemade icing.
But sometimes a girl wants to make strawberry-lemonade cupcakes, right? Right. So here's where the difficulties come into play. The recipe is the same, but now I have to add a high water content fruit. And a sometimes tart one at that. My first attempt at this icing was with chopped strawberries...and it kind of worked? The flavor was right, nice and fluffy with a bit of that syrup-y sweet strawberry taste we all love. But then you chewed a piece of strawberry and got that kick of sour. Sounds like Heaven so far, right? Kind of.
The problems settled in when the icing began to settle to room temperature. The juices in the strawberry were released and that made the icing a little watery in general. So then there were streaks of strawberry sliding down the edge of the cupcake. Not as cute.
So this time around, I was making a decadent chocolate velvet cupcake-- a light and fluffy cake that needs very little to make it any more incredible. But I would never leave a cupcake naked, that would just be cruel. Especially because I just got these awesome cupcake lingerie liners that are peeled off after cooking is complete. And while a piece of chocolate cake is incredible anyway you slice it, I just felt wrong leaving that little cake out there in the cold in it's birthday suit.
Here's what I did:
1 cup (softened) unsalted butter
a pinch of coarse salt
6 tbs. strawberry puree
1 tsp. vanilla
3 1/2 cups confectioners' sugar
The trick is to mix the butter with the salt right off the bat to get the creamy and salty flavors incorporated. Then I used my smoothie maker to puree about ten strawberries. Before adding in the strawberries, I slowly blended in the confectioners' sugar, one cup at a time. Then came the vanilla. (Thank goodness, because this icing was literally just butter and sugar...amazing, but not very icing-like). Once those were all tossed in, I just added the puree two tablespoons at a time until I got to my chosen flavor. Enough strawberry that covers up the insane amount of confectioners' sugar, without going over the top. And at the end of the six tablespoons, I decided to throw in three drops of red food coloring. Because you can never have too much pink or red on top of your cake, right? Right.
Yes, I just admitted to liking the color pink on my cake. I dare you to laugh at me.
Anyhow, so that's where I ended up. Now I have about twenty chocolate velvet cupcakes smothered in my strawberry puree butter-cream icing sitting on the counter of my apartment. This could end badly.
TGIF? Si.
But sometimes a girl wants to make strawberry-lemonade cupcakes, right? Right. So here's where the difficulties come into play. The recipe is the same, but now I have to add a high water content fruit. And a sometimes tart one at that. My first attempt at this icing was with chopped strawberries...and it kind of worked? The flavor was right, nice and fluffy with a bit of that syrup-y sweet strawberry taste we all love. But then you chewed a piece of strawberry and got that kick of sour. Sounds like Heaven so far, right? Kind of.
The problems settled in when the icing began to settle to room temperature. The juices in the strawberry were released and that made the icing a little watery in general. So then there were streaks of strawberry sliding down the edge of the cupcake. Not as cute.
So this time around, I was making a decadent chocolate velvet cupcake-- a light and fluffy cake that needs very little to make it any more incredible. But I would never leave a cupcake naked, that would just be cruel. Especially because I just got these awesome cupcake lingerie liners that are peeled off after cooking is complete. And while a piece of chocolate cake is incredible anyway you slice it, I just felt wrong leaving that little cake out there in the cold in it's birthday suit.
Here's what I did:
1 cup (softened) unsalted butter
a pinch of coarse salt
6 tbs. strawberry puree
1 tsp. vanilla
3 1/2 cups confectioners' sugar
The trick is to mix the butter with the salt right off the bat to get the creamy and salty flavors incorporated. Then I used my smoothie maker to puree about ten strawberries. Before adding in the strawberries, I slowly blended in the confectioners' sugar, one cup at a time. Then came the vanilla. (Thank goodness, because this icing was literally just butter and sugar...amazing, but not very icing-like). Once those were all tossed in, I just added the puree two tablespoons at a time until I got to my chosen flavor. Enough strawberry that covers up the insane amount of confectioners' sugar, without going over the top. And at the end of the six tablespoons, I decided to throw in three drops of red food coloring. Because you can never have too much pink or red on top of your cake, right? Right.
Yes, I just admitted to liking the color pink on my cake. I dare you to laugh at me.
Anyhow, so that's where I ended up. Now I have about twenty chocolate velvet cupcakes smothered in my strawberry puree butter-cream icing sitting on the counter of my apartment. This could end badly.
TGIF? Si.
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
Theodoseus the Great
There once was a spider warrior by the name of Theodoseus the Great. For years he feasted on the remains of mosquito families and dragonfly babies he captured in his great webs. When humans came into his territory he creeped into their quarters, only to force them out minutes after his arrival.
His reign of terror spread from the jungles of Vietnam, to the countryside villages, and even as far as the metropolitan area. For Theodoseus, every human he encountered screamed and ran in the opposite direction.
One night-- as Theodoseus preferred to travel by nighttime so as to avoid being potentially stomped on by human feet, he stumbled upon a gated community. Oh, this will be great, he thought to himself, a bunch of sleeping people I can scare awake...then I'll take over the whole building to myself and get to work on creating an empire. So he crawled through the somewhat rusted white bars, past the sign reading Hoa An Center.
Once he reached the white tiled stairs, he decided to clear out the first floor of rooms first. Creeping through a window, he mounted himself right next to the bathroom door. Surely an unsuspecting human would stumble towards the bathroom in the middle of the night and then shout out upon finding Theodoseus. So he sat, and waited-- not even bothering to spin a web to settle down. This would all be his soon enough, no need to rush.
Around 5:00 am, Theodoseus heard an alarm clock ring, and a shaded image moved towards the bathroom. No flashlight. Perfect.
The human entered the bathroom, did their business, and as they began to wash their hands their eyes must have adjusted. Sitting there perfectly still next to the mirror, Theodoseus heard the scream. But it was not nearly as loud as he expected. They're not terrified? Merely taken back? This had never happened before. The human left, probably to tell the others they needed to get out because of this great spider. But instead, one by one, the humans came out to do their business and just avoided Theodoseus like the plague. They completely ignored his very presence!
Thinking that a better location would give him the results he wanted, Theodoseus moved into the actual bathroom and sat next to the window across from the showerhead. The humans hardly reacted. They just closed him into the room and continued to use the other stall.
Hanging his head in shame, Theodoseus decided these humans were a new breed-- no longer afraid of his kind, and so he headed back into the jungle. He would wait each night, hoping to see these humans leave, and a new breed arrive. A new breed that he could once again torment and terrify.
Humans- 1
Theodoseus- 7435198374
His reign of terror spread from the jungles of Vietnam, to the countryside villages, and even as far as the metropolitan area. For Theodoseus, every human he encountered screamed and ran in the opposite direction.
One night-- as Theodoseus preferred to travel by nighttime so as to avoid being potentially stomped on by human feet, he stumbled upon a gated community. Oh, this will be great, he thought to himself, a bunch of sleeping people I can scare awake...then I'll take over the whole building to myself and get to work on creating an empire. So he crawled through the somewhat rusted white bars, past the sign reading Hoa An Center.
Once he reached the white tiled stairs, he decided to clear out the first floor of rooms first. Creeping through a window, he mounted himself right next to the bathroom door. Surely an unsuspecting human would stumble towards the bathroom in the middle of the night and then shout out upon finding Theodoseus. So he sat, and waited-- not even bothering to spin a web to settle down. This would all be his soon enough, no need to rush.
Around 5:00 am, Theodoseus heard an alarm clock ring, and a shaded image moved towards the bathroom. No flashlight. Perfect.
The human entered the bathroom, did their business, and as they began to wash their hands their eyes must have adjusted. Sitting there perfectly still next to the mirror, Theodoseus heard the scream. But it was not nearly as loud as he expected. They're not terrified? Merely taken back? This had never happened before. The human left, probably to tell the others they needed to get out because of this great spider. But instead, one by one, the humans came out to do their business and just avoided Theodoseus like the plague. They completely ignored his very presence!
Thinking that a better location would give him the results he wanted, Theodoseus moved into the actual bathroom and sat next to the window across from the showerhead. The humans hardly reacted. They just closed him into the room and continued to use the other stall.
Hanging his head in shame, Theodoseus decided these humans were a new breed-- no longer afraid of his kind, and so he headed back into the jungle. He would wait each night, hoping to see these humans leave, and a new breed arrive. A new breed that he could once again torment and terrify.
Humans- 1
Theodoseus- 7435198374
Monday, August 15, 2011
Phu Quoi?? Phu Quoc!
Holy day of learning lessons. We started our morning with finding a legitimate taxi driver in Ho Chi Minh City after a blank silver car rolled up and the man inside started to cart away our luggage. Luckily, the real taxi driver took us directly to the domestic terminal without delay. Once we arrived we searched around for a luggage storage area to keep our big bags for the next week while we went around. The airport personnel informed us we could store our bags at International (which would be better in the end anyway) so we lugged everything over to International and were greeted by a glorified storage closet with a few shelves and three or four people sitting around a desk. There were maybe two bags sitting on the shelves. Completely sketchy in my mind. But we forked over forty American dollars and they took down our flight information and names and we watched as they locked our bags and put them together by flight arrival time. So here's to hoping my bag is still in Ho Chi Minh on Saturday evening.
Once we got into the airport, we waited in the small gate area. When the time finally game to board, we walked down a set of stairs and out into the open air. A bus was sitting outside and carted us to a plane with wind-up propellers. The runway for take-off seemed entirely too short but the plane really had some power to it! Our flight was gorgeous-- white fluffy clouds painted the skyline and just underneath us, thousands of houses were crammed together along windy roads. Once we hit the skyline everything turned grey. But before we knew it, we were once again descending into Phu Quoc, a mere 127 miles away.
The airport was pitifully small, but quaint. We stepped off the plane into the overcast daylight, and stepped directly into the greeting area/baggage claim. A man met us with a Saigon Resort sign and motioned us to a mini-van that drove us all the way to the Resort. Once there, we had to wait in another room for three-person room to be ready, which was well worth it because they gave us vouchers for the day-spa. But after we settled in a bit, we rented a bike from the hotel (for free!) and the six of us headed out on an excursion ride. We headed to the right at first but couldn't find much outside of coffee shops and other resorts. Then we headed back past our Resort and found the highly-acclaimed night-market. We stopped for a bite to eat at a random place that had a sign advertising various types of sandwiches.
Phu Quoc Lesson #1: Never eat at a place that advertises their best dishes on a sign. You will end up with pieces of raw meat in your sandwich, but not realize that fact until your last bite. No, I'm not sick yet.
After we had our mediocre meal, we headed back to shower and meet up with Amy and Erika who had just arrived to the island. Around 5 we headed to the Resort restaurant for dinner, which was over-priced but American. I had two Blue Lagoon drinks; (Yes Diane, that does mean Happy Times Lemonade) vodka, blue curacao, lemon juice, 7-Up. I also got a cheeseburger with fries. Nomnoms.
After I paid my $25 bill (by far the most expensive meal since I've been here, but still better than Miami), we grabbed some more cash and went to the night-market in search of cheap, but very real pearls.
The vendors had ridiculously jacked up prices in comparison to what our director said from last year, but we managed to find a few good deals. It was great to bargain some more, even though we probably only bargained down to what their actual prices would be. You win some, you lose some. Gonna go back tomorrow for a couple more gifts and a book about the war. Wednesday night I promised the girls I would eat seafood if we ate at the market...there was an elephant snail there. It literally had a trunk coming out from under the shell. Everything looked so fresh that I can't help but trust it.
On our trek back home we stopped in a wine shop to browse around for tomorrow night and a woman recognized our group and asked if we were the bike group from earlier. We said yes, and she immediately told us her bike tour was better than the "crappy Saigon ones" we were riding. So then we got to talking about where she could take us and how, and she said that last minute we could get a mountain bike tour to a waterfall for only $5!! Amazing. So when in doubt, talk to the Vietnamese. They always "give discount" and will always give more discount when you stay longer and/or buy more from them.
That's my only news so far. The weather is kind of a bummer, but we're making it work anyway! Too bad I'm burning a hole right through my pocket with all these excursions.
Hope the final days of summer are treating you wonderfully. Can't wait to see some American faces soon.
Peace, love, and shrimp on a stick!!
Once we got into the airport, we waited in the small gate area. When the time finally game to board, we walked down a set of stairs and out into the open air. A bus was sitting outside and carted us to a plane with wind-up propellers. The runway for take-off seemed entirely too short but the plane really had some power to it! Our flight was gorgeous-- white fluffy clouds painted the skyline and just underneath us, thousands of houses were crammed together along windy roads. Once we hit the skyline everything turned grey. But before we knew it, we were once again descending into Phu Quoc, a mere 127 miles away.
The airport was pitifully small, but quaint. We stepped off the plane into the overcast daylight, and stepped directly into the greeting area/baggage claim. A man met us with a Saigon Resort sign and motioned us to a mini-van that drove us all the way to the Resort. Once there, we had to wait in another room for three-person room to be ready, which was well worth it because they gave us vouchers for the day-spa. But after we settled in a bit, we rented a bike from the hotel (for free!) and the six of us headed out on an excursion ride. We headed to the right at first but couldn't find much outside of coffee shops and other resorts. Then we headed back past our Resort and found the highly-acclaimed night-market. We stopped for a bite to eat at a random place that had a sign advertising various types of sandwiches.
Phu Quoc Lesson #1: Never eat at a place that advertises their best dishes on a sign. You will end up with pieces of raw meat in your sandwich, but not realize that fact until your last bite. No, I'm not sick yet.
After we had our mediocre meal, we headed back to shower and meet up with Amy and Erika who had just arrived to the island. Around 5 we headed to the Resort restaurant for dinner, which was over-priced but American. I had two Blue Lagoon drinks; (Yes Diane, that does mean Happy Times Lemonade) vodka, blue curacao, lemon juice, 7-Up. I also got a cheeseburger with fries. Nomnoms.
After I paid my $25 bill (by far the most expensive meal since I've been here, but still better than Miami), we grabbed some more cash and went to the night-market in search of cheap, but very real pearls.
The vendors had ridiculously jacked up prices in comparison to what our director said from last year, but we managed to find a few good deals. It was great to bargain some more, even though we probably only bargained down to what their actual prices would be. You win some, you lose some. Gonna go back tomorrow for a couple more gifts and a book about the war. Wednesday night I promised the girls I would eat seafood if we ate at the market...there was an elephant snail there. It literally had a trunk coming out from under the shell. Everything looked so fresh that I can't help but trust it.
On our trek back home we stopped in a wine shop to browse around for tomorrow night and a woman recognized our group and asked if we were the bike group from earlier. We said yes, and she immediately told us her bike tour was better than the "crappy Saigon ones" we were riding. So then we got to talking about where she could take us and how, and she said that last minute we could get a mountain bike tour to a waterfall for only $5!! Amazing. So when in doubt, talk to the Vietnamese. They always "give discount" and will always give more discount when you stay longer and/or buy more from them.
That's my only news so far. The weather is kind of a bummer, but we're making it work anyway! Too bad I'm burning a hole right through my pocket with all these excursions.
Hope the final days of summer are treating you wonderfully. Can't wait to see some American faces soon.
Peace, love, and shrimp on a stick!!
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