tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-71941572012-01-20T15:21:17.060+01:00Paradise was Very Nice for Adam and His MadamNathalie's Travels through the Wide Wide Worldnathaliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09969519382999234012noreply@blogger.comBlogger561100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7194157.post-1112919461690614002005-04-08T02:17:00.000+02:002005-04-08T02:18:47.246+02:00New Parking Spot!.flickr-photo { border: solid 2px #000000; }.flickr-yourcomment { }.flickr-frame { text-align: left; padding: 3px; }.flickr-caption { font-size: 0.8em; margin-top: 0px; } cabkingheadero1f, originally uploaded by azurenath. I'm moving the blog: from now on, check out http://cabbagesandkings.typepad.com. See you there! NJnathaliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09969519382999234012noreply@blogger.com53tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7194157.post-1110098488957397842005-02-08T09:41:00.000+01:002005-03-07T03:12:05.330+01:00Dinner at The French Laundry; or, the Realization of a Well-Worn DreamThe first time I ever heard anyone talk about Thomas Keller or The French Laundry was in a book called “The Soul of a Chef” by Michael Ruhlman. I was a sophomore home for Christmas in Miami, and the story was so captivating that I stayed out in the sun way too long and burnt myself to a crisp. That day I swore I’d make it to the French Laundry at some point. And that day came last week.nathaliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09969519382999234012noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7194157.post-1110096713186430852005-01-25T09:11:00.000+01:002005-03-06T20:38:22.546+01:00Taking StockWell, it's been a hell of a ride. To be specific: Providence—Miami—Tokyo—Beijing—Xian—Shanghai—Kunming—Guilin —Dali—Lijiang— Hong Kong—Ho Chi Minh City—DaNang—Hanoi—Seoul—Miami—Gossau—Hamburg—Rome—Lecce—Garda—Abruzzo—Lecce—Rome—Lecce—Rome—Geneva—Annecy —New York—Lecce—Corfu— Patra—Peloponneseus—Lecce—Milano—Zurich—Geneva— Annecy—Charleroi—Tournai—Bruxelles—Paris—Bruxelles— nathaliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09969519382999234012noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7194157.post-1107599986981158462005-01-23T11:39:00.000+01:002005-02-05T11:43:18.960+01:00Finally Home miami, originally uploaded by azurenath. I love Miami. Have I ever told you that? I love it. In the past week I’ve engaged in a ritual that I repeat, or try to, every time I’m down. That is, seeking out and consuming, in no particular order: --Knaus Berry Farm cinnamon buns (the Amish come down for the winter and bake them, or pretend to; it’s actually Mexican migrant workers that do the nathaliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09969519382999234012noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7194157.post-1106515417663434372005-01-06T22:23:00.000+01:002005-01-25T03:25:23.236+01:00egypshan contradicshan nathaliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09969519382999234012noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7194157.post-1106513633984303252005-01-06T21:53:00.000+01:002005-01-23T22:21:54.836+01:00The Jordis go on McVacation; or, Boogers Bring Peace1/3/05 I am on vacation with my family in Egypt. We have, for the first time in our lives, gone on a tour-bus vacation. Not just any tour-bus vacation, either. This year, the Jordis are spending eight days with the Club Med. To me, the Club Med calls to mind middle-class French families taking lambada lessons under a foreign sun while natives prepare the damp towelettes and lemon slices. Maman’snathaliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09969519382999234012noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7194157.post-1106515448208435682005-01-06T14:24:00.000+01:002005-01-23T23:04:36.316+01:00jordis go wild jordis go wild, originally uploaded by azurenath.nathaliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09969519382999234012noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7194157.post-1104969935730719262005-01-06T01:57:00.000+01:002005-01-06T01:05:35.730+01:001000 RecipesCheck out this project y'all-- http://1000recipes.blogspot.com/ ...pretty cool! Love things that remind me that people crave personal contact and handwrought artifacts still.... nathaliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09969519382999234012noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7194157.post-1106544110265810382005-01-02T06:21:00.000+01:002005-01-24T06:28:50.416+01:00In Which I Reveal Some Family Character Traits That May Or May Not Reflect Upon Me dalcq women, originally uploaded by azurenath.I come from a line of extremely fastidious women. When I was ten my cousins and I collaborated on a drawing of my grandmother. We titled it “Post-It-O-Saurus” and it was a picture of a Post-It-wielding dinosaur that was supposed to represent her. We have ample evidence to back this allegation. Any drawer you open in this house; any cupboard doornathaliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09969519382999234012noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7194157.post-1104968068764020392004-12-27T01:33:00.000+01:002005-01-06T00:34:53.150+01:00Books on the Shelf in the Guest Room of My Grandparents' HouseMy Mother, My Mirror Living your Anger Helping Yourself Nervous Depression and the Body Unblock Your Emotions Stop being Nice, Be Real Intimate Death The Art of Dying God? Albert? Neither Marx Nor Jesus All Gods are Not Equal Poor People’s Problems nathaliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09969519382999234012noreply@blogger.com66tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7194157.post-1104967159347441072004-12-27T01:19:00.000+01:002005-01-06T00:31:21.456+01:00Record Of The Past Few Days christmas, originally uploaded by azurenath.I set my alarm for 0400 Christmas Eve. I had to be at work by five, and wanted to make sure I’d have enough time to finish packing and assure the cleanliness of Alisha’s kitchen floor, which I’d found carpeted by soapsuds the evening before after I put hand soap in the dishwasher following a fruitless search for pellets. It was still dark, and the nathaliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09969519382999234012noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7194157.post-1104967116895500742004-12-19T01:18:00.000+01:002005-01-06T00:41:14.030+01:00Saturday Night ripshit, originally uploaded by azurenath.On Saturday night, ripshit after a ten-hour shift and several more spent at the pub, I got off the tube at Sloane Square, walked to Bibendum, and ordered twenty pounds’ worth of Chardonnay and crab salad. Then I stumbled home, as I had to be at work before dawn the following morning. Above are pictures I took on the walk.nathaliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09969519382999234012noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7194157.post-1104272000969332842004-12-17T23:13:00.000+01:002005-01-06T00:41:45.043+01:00Ode To The Dairy cheese, originally uploaded by azurenath.Just as, despite my best intentions, I can’t seem to avoid cold, gray winters, I can’t escape early fucking mornings either. If I had to judge by my first thoughts at waking up, I don’t think I’d be able to tell between Belgium and England (or Providence)—in each case, I slap my alarm clock, glance slanty-eyed at the sky outside the window, and groan withnathaliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09969519382999234012noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7194157.post-1104269504042099122004-12-10T22:31:00.000+01:002004-12-28T22:33:35.273+01:00Comparisons comparisons, originally uploaded by azurenath.On the left, Oxford University. On the right, the London Borough of Hackney: home, sweet home.nathaliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09969519382999234012noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7194157.post-1102558028594951612004-12-03T03:07:00.000+01:002004-12-09T03:14:03.293+01:00London london, originally uploaded by azurenath.If I was in a bar, and someone asked me to graphically represent my transition from Belgium to London on a cocktail napkin, I’d scribble out the cell-reproduction diagram we first learned in ninth-grade biology. Wherein one pod splits into two, which split into four components, and then eight, and soon all hell’s broken loose, an orgy, bedlam. Except thatnathaliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09969519382999234012noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7194157.post-1104967090822528582004-11-10T01:18:00.000+01:002005-01-06T00:31:49.013+01:00Bloody Boudin Blanc butcher, originally uploaded by azurenath.Had a flash of feeling really American in Bohan-sur-Semois the other day. I was on my way to a butcher’s whose address was “Rue de l’Eglise 44,” or 44 Church Street, and all the streets in the village were unmarked, or seemed to be. In front of a church I rolled to a stop beside a woman carrying a shopping bag and a little boy. “Excuse me,” I asked, “butnathaliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09969519382999234012noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7194157.post-1106521475167553812004-11-07T01:03:00.000+01:002005-01-24T00:04:35.166+01:00Your Opinion RequestedLong debates with my Dad and Grand-père. Both think the profanity I occasionally sprinkle in my blog entries detracts from the writing. What do you think? As a matter of fact, can I get some feedback onthis thing? Who's out there reading this? Email me even if it's just to say you're checking up from time to time. (Send me something even if I already know, just for hello's sake!) Much love-N .nathaliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09969519382999234012noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7194157.post-1106521088768681282004-11-04T23:55:00.000+01:002005-01-24T00:06:35.516+01:00Election Reflections, by Lizzie Goodfriend.I've been mulling over the results of the recent elections and trying to figure out what, if anything, to write about it. Then I got an email from Lizzie, which I've excerpted below. My sentiments exactly, Goodfriend. I took off yesterday from work--partly because I wasn't feeling well, physically, but also because I wasn't feeling anything at all, emotionally. The results of Tuesday's electionsnathaliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09969519382999234012noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7194157.post-1099824539023125932004-11-03T11:48:00.000+01:002004-11-10T00:44:34.266+01:00Milky Teats Mr. Raymond Sizaire has the most mesmerizing face I’ve seen in weeks. His forehead is scored with two deep grill marks, as if he’d been smacked twice with a red-hot shovel. Later he tells me they’re from the birthing forceps. “I weighed six kilos when I was born,” he says. “Now I’m a little more, but it’s all muscle.” He pats his belly. “Except for here!” His shoulders shake, and bellows of nathaliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09969519382999234012noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7194157.post-1106520880296177062004-11-02T23:53:00.000+01:002005-01-23T23:54:40.296+01:00Jacqueline et Roger; History made PersonalPersonal History 11/2/04 Since my most recent investigations have taken me into deep, deep Belgium, I’m spending the night at my great-aunt Jacqueline and great-uncle Roger’s country house in Chassepierre, because if Amélie’s car has to drive one kilometer more than it has to its wheels will fall off. Roger and Jacqueline’s house is an old farm on the border with France, near where Voltaire’s nathaliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09969519382999234012noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7194157.post-1099598558893479162004-11-02T21:02:00.000+01:002004-11-10T00:13:48.520+01:00The Twenty-First-Century Artisan chocolate, originally uploaded by azurenath. I drove across Belgium again today, through its gray fog and brilliant redheaded landscape, its gingham leaves and soil. But it wasn’t a farmer I was coming to meet this time. Everything else about the trip there was the same: the sleepy villages, tractors on the road, the piles of beet pulp and tired cows munching them. But buried inside the small nathaliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09969519382999234012noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7194157.post-1099396292485002902004-11-02T13:48:00.000+01:002004-11-02T12:51:32.486+01:00Blog sees the light!Two pieces that originally appeared on the blog have made the big time, check out www.mytravelbug.org and click on "Current Travelers" on the left, then scroll down to "China." Woo! nathaliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09969519382999234012noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7194157.post-1099595754865453732004-11-01T20:15:00.000+01:002004-11-08T15:25:31.630+01:00Barcelona barca, originally uploaded by azurenath.I had too much fun to take notes in Barcelona, and I know that no matter what I write Care will mock me (“Spiky??”), but I wanted to mention a few highlights anyway. A bulleted list seems least likely to offend.--Spent some Q.T. with Care, who is fabulous as ever, loving Barcelona and life as only she can. Missed her like mad as soon as she was gone.--She nathaliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09969519382999234012noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7194157.post-1099600266791951702004-10-26T21:23:00.000+02:002004-11-10T00:23:14.170+01:00A Nut and His HoneyM. Lucien Godeau had just sat down to lunch with his cleaning lady when I called him, lost, from the outskirts of his village. “I can’t find your house,” I said. “Is there a sign in front of it that I’m missing?” He laughed. “No, there’s no sign,” he said, “but my mailbox is a beehive. I’ll come out and meet you.” A big belly of a man, all corduroy and suspenders, M. Godeau came out wiping his nathaliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09969519382999234012noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7194157.post-1098666915134235862004-10-22T04:15:00.000+02:002004-11-10T00:25:39.926+01:00Les Ardennes en Automne, Part I: Jam with the Bartholomé Brothers jam, originally uploaded by azurenath. Belgian’s bus, tram and metro drivers had planned a strike yesterday, so Brussels was jammed with thousands of extra cars trying to circulate the city. Once out, though, the road smoothed, and Amé’s shuddering car bounced along the autoroute like a thirteen-year-old boy’s nervous hand on his first girlfriend. I was as excited as a thirteen-year-old boy, toonathaliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09969519382999234012noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7194157.post-1098667001062442852004-10-22T03:16:00.000+02:002004-11-10T00:31:20.876+01:00Les Ardennes en Automne, Part II: A Restaurant Review autumn, originally uploaded by azurenath. The jam-making was over around noon, but I’d driven such a distance that I was reluctant to return to Brussels so quickly. I had errands to run, but fuck ‘em, I decided. The best thing about my life right now is my uninhibited access to self-determination and autonomy. Plus, for once, the sun was actually out and the weather warm. I wasn’t about to guiltnathaliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09969519382999234012noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7194157.post-1098672618729177402004-10-21T04:50:00.000+02:002004-11-02T03:39:14.186+01:00Ssss... wind, sand, originally uploaded by azurenath. Seaboard towns the world over have something slightly seedy about them, in Greece as in Jersey. Even if ships no longer sail in and out of their bustling ports carrying syph and sailors they remain seamy somehow, retaining a circus-just-passed-through vibe, an aroma of stale buttered popcorn. Discarded candy wrappers on the ground, the inside exposednathaliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09969519382999234012noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7194157.post-1098673223976370982004-10-20T04:58:00.000+02:002004-10-25T05:00:23.976+02:00A Night of Belgian TelevisionJust wanted to insert a little note about what I’ve been watching on TV. I haven’t spent that much time with it, but television is so excellent, especially in other countries. In one night I flicked between: • Fat Nation: The Big Challenge, a BBC reality show about fat people who are trying to lose weight. Two fit people on one side of a table filled with food critique the alimentary choices nathaliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09969519382999234012noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7194157.post-1099268868062396642004-10-20T01:27:00.000+02:002004-11-10T00:40:03.676+01:00No Half-Baked Tradition couques, originally uploaded by azurenath. Every Belgian I know wrinkles their nose at the idea of couques de Dinant. “Imagine the hardest, stalest cookie you’ve ever eaten, and then multiply it by ten,” says Amélie. “You could break your teeth on them,” adds Grand-mamy. “I never quite understood the appeal…but they always showed up around St. Nicholas’.” Ahem. That is because they never knew. nathaliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09969519382999234012noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7194157.post-1097887154403728342004-10-16T02:39:00.000+02:002004-11-01T00:44:36.876+01:00Maffe, Ville du Fromage cheese, originally uploaded by azurenath. The one thing that may keep me from becoming an artisan farmer is how goddamn early they all wake up. This cycle of 6 a.m. wakeups after 3 a.m. bedtimes is getting utterly exhausting. Maybe I’ll develop and market nocturnal beekeeping or nighttime cheese. Thankfully, everyone driving a car at 6 a.m. is going into Brussels, not leaving it. I reflected onnathaliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09969519382999234012noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7194157.post-1097871052081734902004-10-11T22:10:00.000+02:002004-11-01T00:52:03.043+01:00Today I Helped Kill Ostriches ostrich, originally uploaded by azurenath. Dinant is fucking far. But it’s the only place in Wallonia to find an artisan ostrich farmer. Which is why I found myself lost at 7 a.m. on Monday morning, cursing Amélie’s 1989 Mazda (275,000 km and counting!), which, even at a full stop, trembles so furiously that reading a map is impossible without shutting the engine off. Obviously, once I got to nathaliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09969519382999234012noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7194157.post-1097868097714815232004-10-07T21:21:00.000+02:002004-10-15T21:37:23.946+02:00Snapshots of Lunch: Fil Américain.flickr-photo { border: solid 2px #000000; }.flickr-yourcomment { }.flickr-frame { text-align: left; padding: 3px; }.flickr-caption { font-size: 0.8em; margin-top: 0px; } gps et gm, originally uploaded by azurenath. My grandparents always start lunch with soup. Today we spoon up a thin potage aux poireaux, because Grand-mamy knows how much my mom loves leek. Always the same nathaliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09969519382999234012noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7194157.post-1097016683322340152004-10-06T01:51:00.000+02:002004-10-06T01:02:16.350+02:00Greece.flickr-photo { border: solid 2px #000000; }.flickr-yourcomment { }.flickr-frame { text-align: left; padding: 3px; }.flickr-caption { font-size: 0.8em; margin-top: 0px; } Greece.JPG, originally uploaded by azurenath. Alex and I spent a magnificent week in Greece, which I refuse to spoil by writing about.nathaliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09969519382999234012noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7194157.post-1097019089045625262004-09-12T01:31:00.000+02:002004-10-06T01:32:11.813+02:00New York City.flickr-photo { border: solid 2px #000000; }.flickr-yourcomment { }.flickr-frame { text-align: left; padding: 3px; }.flickr-caption { font-size: 0.8em; margin-top: 0px; } new york city, originally uploaded by azurenath. 9/12/04 There is, I swear, one of everything in New York City. My first day there--the day of my interview with the “incomparable” J.S., I went to Union Square for a nathaliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09969519382999234012noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7194157.post-1097019298438928932004-08-30T01:34:00.000+02:002004-10-06T01:36:06.186+02:00Laughter Trumps Every Ill.flickr-photo { border: solid 2px #000000; }.flickr-yourcomment { }.flickr-frame { text-align: left; padding: 3px; }.flickr-caption { font-size: 0.8em; margin-top: 0px; } laugher trumps every ill, originally uploaded by azurenath. 8/30/04 I am so tan right now it's disgusting. A caca color. But boy does it feel great to be young and brown and healthy and well-fed. When I lay out nathaliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09969519382999234012noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7194157.post-1096478054716199172004-08-25T19:14:00.000+02:002004-10-06T01:06:22.116+02:00Sensual Living: Fact or Fiction?.flickr-photo { border: solid 2px #000000; }.flickr-yourcomment { }.flickr-frame { text-align: left; padding: 3px; }.flickr-caption { font-size: 0.8em; margin-top: 0px; } stoned by the lake, originally uploaded by azurenath. 8/25/04 At this point in the summer we have so settled into the terroir mentality that we sprinkle lavender over our joints before rolling them. Yesterday we went nathaliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09969519382999234012noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7194157.post-1097018975323713342004-08-18T01:29:00.000+02:002004-10-06T01:30:34.530+02:00Cogitations d'Annecy.flickr-photo { border: solid 2px #000000; }.flickr-yourcomment { }.flickr-frame { text-align: left; padding: 3px; }.flickr-caption { font-size: 0.8em; margin-top: 0px; } cogitations, originally uploaded by azurenath. 8/18/04 It’s gotten to that part of the summer where, less than pleasantly, my thighs start rubbing together and I know I’ve gone overboard with the nutella-and-butter nathaliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09969519382999234012noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7194157.post-1097017749562511792004-08-07T01:09:00.000+02:002004-10-06T01:37:58.613+02:00Leaves that are Green.flickr-photo { border: solid 2px #000000; }.flickr-yourcomment { }.flickr-frame { text-align: left; padding: 3px; }.flickr-caption { font-size: 0.8em; margin-top: 0px; } Leaves that are Green, originally uploaded by azurenath. 8/5/04 Since my last entry, The Marxist has admitted to finding and reading my blog, and I have unfortunately had to admit to seeking out and reading his email. nathaliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09969519382999234012noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7194157.post-1097019608437733412004-07-23T01:40:00.000+02:002004-10-06T01:41:16.846+02:00One Happy Housewife.flickr-photo { border: solid 2px #000000; }.flickr-yourcomment { }.flickr-frame { text-align: left; padding: 3px; }.flickr-caption { font-size: 0.8em; margin-top: 0px; } Happy Housewife, originally uploaded by azurenath. July 23, 2004 Yesterday I was on the phone with my mom. As she walked around her bedroom in Miami I was sitting on a wooden chair in mine, with my feet propped up on the nathaliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09969519382999234012noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7194157.post-1089650564310629842004-07-12T18:42:00.001+02:002004-07-20T02:37:12.196+02:00Up to SpeedSorry to skip so quickly over Vietnam and Korea, but I temporarily lost my compulsive documantarianism in the vast sea of beer and renewing friendships. Suffice it to say that I enjoyed a160-hour conversation with John about every topic under the sun, punctuated by steaming pho and Tigers in every dive bar between Saigon and Hanoi (see johninvietnam.blogspot.com for more detail). This was nathaliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09969519382999234012noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7194157.post-1089650590542734612004-07-12T18:42:00.000+02:002004-07-12T18:43:10.543+02:00Surfing into the G.U.7/9/04 Sunsets viewed from above clouds are magnificent. I’m on the plane over to Switzerland for Muetti’s 90th birthday party. This means I’ve gotten to the point of the summer at which I relinquish control over my life and fate/fortune/future takes over. China with the family—check. Vietnam with John, Korea with Mike, Judy and Alex, Miami with MPJ—check. College friends, comfort zone, nathaliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09969519382999234012noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7194157.post-1089002422018818782004-07-05T06:39:00.000+02:002004-07-05T06:40:22.016+02:00Non-Update IIYeap. Another non-update. Just that I'm in Seoul but going home tomorrow, and will probably start writing again for real once I get to Italy in a few weeks. Stay posted.nathaliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09969519382999234012noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7194157.post-1088594443154728062004-06-30T13:19:00.000+02:002004-06-30T13:20:43.153+02:00Non-UpdateNo time to post, but sorry for not updating. I'm in Vietnam with John, we're having a fabulastic time, and I will post again soon, I promise. Just not today.nathaliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09969519382999234012noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7194157.post-1088039353162212532004-06-24T03:07:00.000+02:002004-08-03T01:10:43.410+02:00Hong Kong6-24-04 Hong Kong is crazy. I thought Tokyo was the future. But no, my friends. Tokyo was just the future of Japan. Hong Kong is the universal future. What follows may sound like a paranoid’s delusions, but really, coming from rural China, I think it’s just the culture shock talking. Also, I’m writing really fast and don’t have time to make it pretty, sorry. I’m dead tired and just want to go nathaliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09969519382999234012noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7194157.post-1088039224544113972004-06-24T03:04:00.000+02:002004-06-24T03:10:54.546+02:00Random Disorganization6-23-04 And now, some thoughts, for a change. (Ha.) I'm running out of time but wanted to set things down before leaving. Sorry for the half-baked rambling. 1. Speaking of modernization. It’s good and all that, but I am wondering what the hell people are going to do once farm technology reaches China’s rural areas. Right now people still sow, transplant, and cut rice by hand. Road workersnathaliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09969519382999234012noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7194157.post-1088039041791924302004-06-24T03:01:00.000+02:002004-06-24T03:04:01.790+02:00The Travails of our Travel6-22-04 Today everything went wrong. Guilin’s curse on us began as soon as we stepped out of the airport. On the way to the hotel, the taxi driver passed my dad his cell phone and said, “It’s for you.” Jerry was on the line. Jerry is the Chinese version of Don King, only slight and sort of dorky-looking (how he got my dad on the phone is a mystery we’ll never solve). Jerry wanted to organize anathaliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09969519382999234012noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7194157.post-1087916463542918712004-06-22T16:58:00.000+02:002004-06-22T17:01:03.543+02:00Panorama Whore Waxes LyricalSorry about the delays, I am having a lot of trouble accessing the page in the rural areas. 6-18-04 I think I can say, with some assurance, that I’d be hard-pressed to find myself more comfortable than I am right now. It’s raining over Lijian—has been ever since we got here last night—and my sister is still sleeping, so I’ve taken my laptop outside to a wicker chair in the hotel’s small nathaliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09969519382999234012noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7194157.post-1087916320883150372004-06-22T16:56:00.000+02:002004-06-22T16:58:40.883+02:00Kunming inspires a meditation on Yin, Yang, and Traffic6-15-04 We’d flown into Kunming and spent just a night there, but the changes in the anthropological landscape were immediately striking: this was now quite obviously Central Asia. The people were swarthier and spoke less (no) English, and architecturally buildings were still very communist, concrete apartment cubes hung with window boxes sporting plastic flowers. The music was different, nathaliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09969519382999234012noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7194157.post-1087320326848554082004-06-15T19:17:00.000+02:002004-06-22T17:02:46.713+02:00Shanghai6-16-04 Think China: pagodas and calligraphy come to mind, or dim sum and Mao (or if you’re Caroline, geishas, even though they’re Japanese). But this country’s bigger than ours is, and once you’re here you realize that checking out another city takes an airplane and a few hours, more if your flight happens get canceled for “fault of plane” as our Xi’an-Shanghai passage did (they served us nathaliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09969519382999234012noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7194157.post-1087314761864090722004-06-15T17:48:00.000+02:002004-06-15T19:26:20.036+02:00Pat, Meiling and Johnny6/15 So I just got back from spending time with CC Rowell's roommate for last summer, his girlfriend and his cousin—fantastic. I'd never met any of them before, but CC had given me his info, so I took a deep breath and called Pat anyway, figuring I can't talk shit about how much of our meals we eat at the hotel (too many) and then not call up a local if I’ve got a phone number. We small-talkednathaliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09969519382999234012noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7194157.post-1087269016735147222004-06-15T05:08:00.000+02:002004-06-15T05:24:10.600+02:00Xi'an6-12-04 Déjà vu today. In period-piece movies there’s always a scene where the camera follows a character as he strides through a town in his armor/dusty chaps/waistcoat/toga, weaving a path between horses getting shoed/drunkards getting tossed out of swinging saloon doors/matchstick girls huddled over vents/centurions on their way to war. In this sequence, epoch notwithstanding, there’s alwaysnathaliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09969519382999234012noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7194157.post-1086799899499428882004-06-09T11:50:00.000+02:002004-06-10T04:52:19.106+02:00BeijingJohn, After a 747 ride filled with Asian businessmen in black suits with Mao hairdos (except one dude with a fauxhawk!) we finally arrived in a country where I speak even less of the language than I did in Japan. Today dealing with the taxi driver (notwearing white gloves—in fact, caged in by bars and Plexiglas) involved Caroline and my grinning idiotically as mom my spurted out “Esta bien, nathaliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09969519382999234012noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7194157.post-108656783232108472004-06-07T02:23:00.000+02:002004-06-07T02:23:52.320+02:00TokyoAlex, Tokyo is BUGGING ME OUT. I’ve never been to a place this different from my world. But at least my childhood fantasies about what ‘the other side of the world’ is like have been somewhat validated. This morning on the subway a man calmly reading a golf magazine seemed the picture of sanity, until I realized he was flipping the pages left to right. Taxis—upholstered in white lace, with nathaliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09969519382999234012noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7194157.post-1086567803938488762004-06-07T02:22:00.000+02:002004-06-07T02:23:23.940+02:00L.A.X.Hi Judy honey, It's weird how being thrust out of your element makes everything seem like it took so much longer. Even though I guess Miami is my element in some ways, the bad mood I wrote my email in disintegrated when I woke up the next morning to the shining sun and I realized no one had *actually* died. Whew! I just needed 24 hours to grieve anyway, I guess. Right now I'm writing from nathaliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09969519382999234012noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7194157.post-1086567767797468632004-06-07T02:20:00.000+02:002004-06-07T02:22:47.796+02:00Here's the planThe Jordi whirlwind tour of Asia is such that I think that I'm just going to have to post my emails verbatim. Sorry! I'll try to make them more cohesive when I get back.nathaliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09969519382999234012noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7194157.post-1086235356190764452004-06-03T06:01:00.000+02:002004-06-03T06:05:16.050+02:00first entryParadise was very nice for Adam and his madam, until they filched the fruit and took the fall. They lost their place and fell from grace and you can bet we can’t forget that eating is the oldest sin of all. -- Victor Buono, Heavy nathaliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09969519382999234012noreply@blogger.com0