i just realized

that everyone i know in london is married or in a long-term living together relationship.

i miss nyc more than ever!

birthdays

on the occasion of my birth, i like to reminisce about birthdays past. it's very cool that i'm celebrating with j.m. and m.r. this year because j.m. figures prominently in one of my best birthday memories.

j.m. and i met while we lived in residence at ubc. her room was next to mine. i roomed with a weirdo (in a bad way) and she roomed with a weirdo (in a good way). we became fast friends and frequently when my weird roommate was being particularly awful to me, i'd crash on j.m.'s (and her roommate f.w.'s) floor.

2 months into first year comes my birthday. it was the first time i had a birthday not at home in g.p. a bit strange. i didn't make a big deal out of it. little did i know that a big deal was about to be made. that evening was like every other. i was sitting around in baggy jeans and an oversized calgary winter olympics sweatshirt when one of the guys in the residence told me we were going to mcdonald's in his car to avoid eating in the caf. i believe him. he asked me if i wanted to change; i said no. we get in his car and drive downtown. we've gone past the mcdonald's i thought we were going to, and asked him where he was going. he said that we should go to mcdonald's downtown. i shrugged. still believing him that my birthday dinner was going to be a filet o' fish at mcdonalds. and actually being okay with that.

anyway, we get out of the car and we walk towards a hotel. the hotel vancouver, in fact. i can't remember what he said when i asked him why we were going there, but he made something up. maybe he had to use the phone or the bathroom. so we walk into the hotel vancouver (which was, at this point in my life, the fanciest hotel i'd ever been inside). the hotel has a restaurant called griffin's. my friend (and i think it was d.s., but i admit i've blanked on whether it was really him or not) and i walk into griffin's. i'm very confused.

but then! i see a huge table with loads of people from residence!! everyone is all dressed up and i'm wearing baggy jeans and a sweatshirt! j.m. had thrown me an amazing surprise party / dinner!! it was amazing! i hadn't expected anybody to do anything for my birthday. j.m. -- bestest ever -- had covertly done all this planning and inviting and no one had leaked the news to me. even now when i think about it, i can't believe how gullible i was.

yay.

today's my brother's birthday and he wrote to me yesterday and we started reminiscing about how when we were kids, we used to have our birthday party together with one giant cake and my parents would invite all the indian people of g.p. and then my brother and i would invite our friends from the neighbourhood and from school and what a strange and motley crew that made.

ah birthdays. good times.
i can't believe that i'm 34 now. but i really can't believe that my brother's 30!

but i have to say, i like being in my 30s. i like feeling sure of myself (even if i am in a career mini-crisis) and i like who i've become (and am becoming) more and more each year. and even if all those things i told myself i'd accomplish (hello, first novel!! haha) are not checked off the mythical list, all told, things are very good.

bookshops

26.10.2009

Work was absolutely dead today (now yesterday). None of the three other people I share my four desk cubicle with were in and it made me ridiculously unmotivated to do anything. Instead, I worked on finding a job. Not exactly a real fun thing to do with my lack of supervision, but necessary – oh so necessary.

I’m starting to freak out about the course I’m teaching in January. Seriously freak out. I decided to go find a couple of texts that might help me understand what I’m teaching at a legal bookstore near the Inns of Court. Another awesome thing about the location of work is it’s proximity to Chancery Lane and the Inns of Court. There are four: Gray’s Inn, Lincoln’s Inn, the Inner Temple and the Middle Temple (how very Indiana Jones-ish!). All barristers & judges who were barristers in England and Wales must belong to an Inn.

Hammick’s Legal Bookshop is on Fleet Street, quite near the Inns. How convenient. It was a heady experience to be in the presence of all those (mighty expensive) law books. And that should tell you something about how much of a geek I am. The international law section (while not as great as the law bookshop in The Hague devoted solely to international law) was quite comprehensive. I wished I had the moolah (and room in my suitcase) to buy so many books. I could spend hours at Hammick’s. I found two books that are useful to my cause.

Next stop: the London Review of Books Bookshop & Cake Shop! Tucked away on Bury Place, a short walk from Hammick’s, this place was amazing. It was not as big as I imagined, but well-stocked. The Cake Shop was packed to the gills. I got a seat and had a delicious latte (made with Monmouth coffee – the gimme coffee of London perhaps?) and a piece of passion cake. Delicious. Two cute boys from somewhere else in Europe were sitting beside me. It’s too bad I couldn’t hang out longer, but I was afraid that if I stayed, I’d spend more money. Sad, sad, sad. It took all my willpower not to buy any books at the LRB bookshop. I had to pull myself away.

After the LRB bookshop, I went to Muji in Covent Garden, where I bought a 2010 calendar (which also had the months of Oct, Nov & Dec 2009 in it – those calendars are hard to find.) At least now I am not relying on a system of post-it notes and paranoia about whether I have somewhere to be. I can put all sorts of things on my new calendar, like going to NY!! Yay!

Wish me luck with preparing for this course.

sondre lerche & lail arad @ the slaughtered lamb

on 18.10.09, i went to see a show at the slaughtered lamb in clerkenwell with k.l. sondre lerche was headlining his own show while on tour with the fray. amazing. k.l. and i bought tickets online, which was lucky cause the show sold out. of course the show sold out, it was sondre lerche! has there ever been a more adorable, cuter, funnier, wittier, better guitar playing norwegian person ever before in the history of the norse? i doubt it.

the show was fantastic. the venue was fantastic. upstairs it's a regular pub, with decent food & drink and the usual post-work pubbing crowd. downstairs is a cosy venue with couches and a very sitting around in your parents' basement feeling but your parents' basement isn't a dive or made to look like a bar mitzvah barfed all over it. in short, it's perfect. not that i have anything against bar mitzvahs or dives, mind you. its just that after being in far too many venues that require having to bring your own hand sanitizer along, it's nice to stand somewhere and not wonder what that sticky feeling under your [insert body part here] is.

k.l. was the perfect lady to attend the show with because she's giddy for sondre like me. and we could be groupies together with no shame. the opening act -- lail arad -- was fantabulastic. she's putting an album out soon, so keep an ear out for it. she has an adorable voice, wonderful stage presence, witty repartee and sings the truth, people. she sings the truth. or perhaps i've become lail's biggest fan because she sings like me: made up in the moment type spontaneous songs, but unlike me, her songs are good, clearly had time and effort go into them, are thoughtful and she can actually sing. go lail!! please please please go find lail's music -- and PAY FOR IT mofos -- because i don't want to have to say "i told you so" when i have tickets to her shows and you have to stay at home.

lail was the perfect opener to sondre lerche. the downside was that lail's too modest. she mentioned her name only once or twice during her gig and i barely heard it. it sounded like it could be spelled lyle or lille or lil' or lily and it took me some heavy internet stalkings to find her webescence. oh, but i did.

so, apart from sondre lerche playing fabulous song after fabulous song with amazing guitar move after amazing guitar move looking and acting increasingly more adorable, he also moved me into a fit of the giggles. man alive, that man is funny! he even took the piss out of the british for their fascination with has-been popstar / reality tv "star" (see an earlier post about reality tv "stardom" for my opinion on the phenomenon) peter andre.

i could go on and on gushing about the night, but i will end by telling you that as k.l. and i snaked our way to the exit / merch table, sondre lerche had already parked himself near the exit bidding a friendly (and very un-affected non-williamsburg adieu) to his fans. as i mulled over which size of man's tshirt to get, k.l. offered to take pictures for people waiting to have their photo taken with him. as a result, we also got our photo taken with sondre lerche. and k.l., being the darling that she is, let me stand next to him and i didn't even have to fight her for it.

yes yes yes!!!! k.l. and i got our photo taken with sondre lerche!!!! i won't post the picture up here to protect the innocent, but i will tell you that in the photo, he looks like he's lunging out into the camera and k.l. and i, by comparison, look like we're standing in the next time zone. he looks huge! it's quite hilarious actually.

someday i'll show you, after i've stopped drooling all over the picture, that is.

here are some other pictures of the show though.

polytechnique :: spoiler alert

25.10.09

the BFI london film festival has been on since oct. 14th and i have been meaning to see a film ever since i saw the posters advertising it on my commute. a lot of the bigger name films have already sold out. yet i could easily blow much of my weekly necessaries budget on tickets to the film festival. i have to be very discerning about what i went to see. at GBP 12 a pop (for evening and weekend shows) (equivalent of about US $20), i have to be very, very, very discerning. but i did want to see one canadian film at the very least.

i chose "polytechnique", a 2009 film directed by denis villeneuve (he also directed maelstrom) and booked a ticket for tonight.

i can't remember the last time images moved me like this.

"polytechnique" tells the story of the "montreal massacre" of dec. 6, 1989 at the ecole polytechnique (an engineering school, part of university of montreal) through the eyes of two witnesses: valerie (a woman who was in the classroom that the gunman first entered and who survived the massacre) and jean-francoise (a classmate of valerie's who was one of the male students removed from the classroom; he too survived the massacre but then took his own life). fourteen female engineering students were shot dead in a 45 minute rampage that ended when marc lepine -- the gunman, who is never identified by name in the film (even in the credits he is identified only as "the killer" -- took his own life.

the film is shot in black and white, the imagery so potent -- a cold, cold montreal day, naked branches and floating snowflakes. the building, that 70s architecture we know so well -- it could be anywhere. ubc, carleton, uvic.

i remember watching the news with my parents on cbc on dec. 6, 1989. we watched "the national" and "the journal" together every night from 10-11pm -- i remember knowlton nash was the news anchor on "the national" that night even though he had been replaced by peter mansbridge by that point. my dad sometimes had to work a night-shift and then we'd watch the national without him, but i am pretty sure he had a day-shift and we all watched it together that evening. when i realized that marc lepine killed 14 women and injured many others because he hated women, i felt like i had been punched in the stomach.

this movie took me back to that feeling. stark. blunt. haunting. for 77 minutes, were were all transfixed. quietly awed, my stomach clenched, my eyes -- wide -- glued to the screen. when the massacre happened, i was 14 and in grade 10. i had a lot of things i wanted to do in my life and i was impatient, just as i am now. on dec. 6, 1989, i was angry. it was a frustrated anger -- the kind of anger that often turns into tears of powerlessness, the salty taste of tears on a pillow. i remember thinking: how dare he take those girls' lives away like that? what gives him the power to do that? why didn't someone stop him?

today, when i left the movie, i felt that anger again, but muted. instead i felt something else. something lonely. there was no one beside me to turn to, no one to say "did you see that" to. i knew that no matter how lax and lazy i'd been about posting to this blog lately, i had to write tonight, even if what i wrote sounded overblown and self-important. i had to write because if i didn't, i wasn't sure where this angry, lonely feeling would take me.

the audience sat in silence while the credits rolled. no one got up until the curtain fell on the screen. the spontaneous burst of applause at the end seemed garish and sounded tinny, somehow. i passively let the escalator carry me down the several flights to ground level. neither i was rushing, nor was anyone quick-stepping around me. at the ground floor, we were directed to exit a particular set of doors. i stumbled out of the theatre and into a melee.

apparently, another film was premiering and the star of that film was attending. there were paparazzi and tourists snapping cell phones photos, shouting over one another and craning their necks. children sat on parents' shoulders. all this -- right outside the exit.

my quietude was shattered. i felt disoriented and pained and i couldn't move fast enough. i broke through the crowd and huffed away. outside, i felt even more alone than inside the theatre when i looked beside me in vain to find someone familiar to share my experience with. i had planned to head home right after the movie to do some work, but as i walked towards charing cross station, i felt not myself. i felt removed. instead, i decided to wander around the dark city.

as i walked away from the national gallery, i was stopped by a belgian couple. they were hopelessly lost. they had to be back at their hotel by 7 pm (it was now about 6:40) and their map covered only a short perimeter around their hotel. i looked up where they needed to be in my a to zed and we realized that they had wandered very far from where they needed to be. they thanked me and, as they walked away to hail a cab, the woman said to me: "it is so big here."

it put a hole in my heart, her saying that. i've realized over the last several weeks that london is the perfect lonely city: it's big, mostly unknown to me, but not foreign. it's streets wind and wend, taking me to places i've never been or back again to places i've just seen. i lose myself in these meanderings and i feel alone in a way i haven't experienced in a long while.

lest you (and by you, i really mean j.m. and m.r. who might think that they are neglecting me somehow and that i'm seriously becoming cracked as a result) think this is a cry for help, i have to admit this alone-ness is sort of a compelling feeling: i am indulging it and seem in no hurry to shrug it off.

funny, while i started typing this out to be a movie review, it's kind of turned into a life review.

things are pretty good all-told. i give it 5 stars. and the movie too.

marathons

i just read an article in the NY times online about how marathon runners are bemoaning the fact that slower runners are entering marathons and crapping on the cache of having "run a marathon", that slower runners have "disrespected the distance" and have "ruined the marathon's mystique."

oh come on.

if your worried that people won't take you for the serious runner that you are and mistake you for some fat-blob who recently decided to don a horrible fashion statement and pant and gasp for 20 some-odd miles, do not worry. we (normal people) can tell that you are serious about your running simply by your body mass index and the high percentage of spandex you are wearing. sure, anyone can buy fancy running gear, but no one carries it off with a marathoners panache. we won't misidentify you, i promise.

we'll also be able to tell who you are because you'll be the first person we see coming off the marathon course, stretching your muscles and carefully heeding the gym teacher's advice of "walk it off" while we sit on a patio scarfing down a marathon of pancakes. you'll be the person that started at the crack of dawn and finished at the slightly larger crack of dawn. we, who never run marathons or half-marathons or even 1/8th marathons (the most i run is for the buss and even that less often than not) have respect for people who train by running for hours and hours and miles and miles, hitting walls and then keep on running.

but what harm is it to the world if not-so-fast runners participate? it certainly doesn't take anything away from the fast runners' time. your less than one minute mile stands strong. plus, not-so-fast runners pay good money to buy gear and join running clinics, keeping those businesses in ... well, business. not everyone has sponsorship from gatorade.

the main consideration shouldn't be the speed of the runner, but whether they will pass out and die on the course. i shouldn't run a marathon because i might just keel over and die in a pool of my own vomit.

the only legitimate concern i see for having slower runners in a marathon is the cost to the organizers of keeping the course open longer. organizers have to pay all sorts of costs to the city for security, etc. not to mention that 20 some-odd miles can be a huge swath of the city to take over for a day. so maybe there could be a generous cut off time after which point the organizers of the marathon are no longer responsible for the runners safety. before you sign up to run, the organizers could let you know that after 7 hours (or so), the marathon will be over and that roads will re-open etc. at that point, slow runners will already have their t-shirts and might have to forfeit a medal of participation [or maybe you can go pick it up from marathon HQ the next day if you can prove that at some point in time you did finish the marathon]. i can't say for sure, but i believe that only a small number of slow marathon runners are doing it for the medal. most people i know who run marathons (but aren't ready for the olympics quite yet) do it as a personal challenge.

we lazy, good-for-nothings have the marathon rammed in our faces - bus re-routings, road closures, sweaty people wearing spandex hanging out in coffee-shops and restaurants after the marathon -- we suffer -- why not let the more ambitious of our class pant and gasp and clutch their sides with the best of you?

what, are you scared we might win?

for a limited time only!

ACT NOW!! DO NOT DELAY!! THIS IS A ONCE-IN-A-WHILE OPPORTUNITY!!

I WILL BE IN NYC FROM NOV 12-NOV 22!!

(yay, can't wait!)

i saw kevin spacey ...

... from about a hundred miles away, in the nosebleeds at the old vic.

i went to see "inherit the wind" on friday night. it was excellent!

highlights:

* the adorable couple sitting next to me (that in itself could be a highlight since i rarely see couples i can non-sneeringly call adorable that aren't already in my circle of acquaintance) who could not understand much of the tennessee-accented english emanating from the stage. [it kind of made me giggle with delight since i myself can't understand much of the high-pitched chirping sounds emanating from giddy englishfolk]
* the adorable couple sitting a row in front of me who were about 7,000 years old and so sparklingly in love.
* did i mention, KEVIN SPACEY! [could this man be any sexier?]
* did i mention, THE OLD VIC THEATRE ITSELF!
* part II of r.m.'s and m.r.'s burgerventure (more on this soon)

there were no lowlights. i lie, of course there were lowlights. to wit,

* having not enough money in my wallet to buy a program or a poster.
* dying of thirst, rummaging around for GBP 1.20 to buy a bottle of fanta on the platform from a vending machine at waterloo east station, finding GBP 1.20, buying the fanta only to have it explode as soon as i opened it, losing about 1/3 of its contents to the train platform.
* arriving at the bus station in blackheath, awaiting the bus to bring me to j.m.'s and m.r.'s, trying to button myself up against the wind, only to have the top-most button on my coat fall off and roll away. [i managed to find it though!]

one windy day in brighton (part 2)

some photos of the brighton pier & pebble beach

after the pier, j.m. and i walked around brighton a bit. we came across a strange church that was all curvy in design and had no windows. bizarre. the pictures i took of it didn't come out so well & could not be photoshopped into anything better, alas. the church stands at the base of a really cute hilly street chock-a-block with really cute, vibrant coloured row houses (can't remember if they were attached or detached), but super cute. j.m. said the street reminded her of newfoundland.

met up with m.r. and c. and went out for dinner at a fantastic restaurant ("terre a terre") j.m. found online. it had well-deserved, great reviews. & the chef/owner is coming out with a cookbook soon.

we had a bit of a hectic dash for the train after a leisurely dinner & even more leisurely dessert, but we made it!!

one windy day in brighton: a resounding success!

one windy day in brighton (part 1)

03.10.09

j.m., m.r., their friend c. & i headed to brighton for the day. j.m. found ridiculously cheap train tickets from victoria station and m.r.'s ladies football team (he coaches) had a match in brighton anyway, so it was all very convenient.

first stop was "vegetarian shoes" where j.m. bought a fun pair of boots.



then the royal pavilion -- george IV, who became the prince regent when he father george III, was declared mad, originally went to brighton in 1783 to seek a cure for gout. he rented a farmhouse in brighton in 1786. apart from gout-related benefits, the farmhouse was the perfect setting (far from the royal court in london) for george IV's naughty-naughties with the Catholic* mrs. fitzherbert (the name rung a bell because in "bridget jones' diary", she introduces him at the book launch as mr. titzpervert).

* important because marrying a Catholic was illegal.

the modest farmhouse was renovated twice & the exterior was designed sort of in a mughlai style of architecture. george IV was a man of extravagant, "exotic" taste. the pavilion is a feat of tacky decadence.

the young queen victoria was a visitor to the pavilion, but being the party-pooper she was, she hated it. her bedroom didn't have much of a sea view. boo hoo. once she became the virgin queen, the royal pavilion was sold by the government. it was bought by the town of brighton in 1850 for GBP 53,000. but being greedy cheapasses, the royal household had many of the original fixtures and fittings removed at the time of the sale. someone should have made sure the bill of sale included these specifically since non-permanent fixtures are chattel property & not considered part of the real property.

the entire pavilion is amazing beautiful (albeit often tacky), amazing colours, textures, wallpapers, textiles, furnishings, etc. many fab examples of the chinoiserie style of decor. BUT notably notable are the kitchen (gleaming copper!) and the banqueting room (an incredible chandelier!) & the huge sample of a banquet menu.

check em out:







after the royal pavilion, we grabbed a yummy lunch at a japanese place that seemed overrun with students.

and then off to the pier ...

i'm home from work today (part 2)

work, work, work.

is great. i like the people, the work is interesting & big perks:

* the stipend situation isn't as bad as i thought. i'm breaking even on transportation and lunch.
* amazing 65p sandwich place just down the street. sandwiches for 65p. and not just ham & cheese or roast beef sandwiches: i've had a brie, rocket & tomato on a pumpkin seed bread, an emmenthal, cress & jalapeno on a bagel & a humous & veggies on a roll. delicious & money-saving! this place is amazing. long live sandwichman.
* the easton pub down the street is also supposed to be yummers.
* i love the neighbourhood, which seems to be at the cusp of angel, clerkenwell, finsbury in the borough of islington.
* my security pass only works from 9 am to 6:30 pm. seriously. i can't be there after 6:30 pm or before 9:00 am.
* casual dress code. jeans! jeans! jeans!
* & i've already been asked for directions & i knew where the place was!
* my commute isn't so bad, so long as (1) the overground train isn't crazy busy (once i had to let a train pass before i could get on) & (2) the northern line on the tube isn't crazy (once i had to let 2 of them pass before i could on). i wish for a seat, but it doesn't always happen. :(

general commuting observations:
* sucking on a lemon dour faces. london - smile! you live in a wonderful city full of history and culture. i promise, smiling doesn't hurt.
* don't walk so slow. move it, move it, move it. don't make me nip your heels.
* no need to be a douche. we're all stuck in this over-crowded train together. hurling your girth around body-checking everyone ain't fun for anyone.
* why oh why oh why does my overground train into london bridge have to stop just short of the station FOR-EVER!? but, no amount of sighing will make it move. if only we could channel the collective energy of sighing on that train, we could probably generate enough power to move it into the station on our own. it's a track space issue. grrrr.
* no crazies on my commute. where are they? has london succeeded in shipping them all off to the colonies? i miss the entertainment.

commute on 5.10.09 was noteworthy for (1) the nasty odor on the overland train to london bridge (a combination of rainy day smell (wet wool) + b.o = i felt like i was suffocating in a men's locker room) & (2) grotty feet on a lady on the tube. i'm talking claw-like toes! and who wears sandals in the rain!? several londoners, apparently.

i'm home from work today (part 1)

my neck is killing me. boo.

at first i figured it was just a wonky night of sleep, but now i don't know. maybe a combination of wonky sleep + poor posture + staring at computer (i think i need to make my workspace a bit more ergonomic. or a lot more ergonomic.) the weird thing is that j.m.'s neck was hurting a few days ago and m.r. says his was in similar shape a few weeks ago. strange coincidence. i'm quite certain that we don't have meningitis. gotta love webmd.

this gives me a much-needed blog break. so much to report. and photos!

mutant vegetables from my parents' garden:




28.10.09 (yes, news to report from last month!)

i decided to explore greenwich. m.r. and j.m. live in the no-man's-land between blackheath (in the borough of lewisham) & greenwich (in the borough of greenwich). i am still trying to figure out the borough / area within borough distinction -- little slow on the geographical uptake). walked through greenwich park, past the prime meridien (always get a kick out of how close i live to time) and down to cutty sark. today's task was to walk the greenwich foot tunnel which runs under the thames and connects greenwich to the isle of dogs (which i've heard doesn't have much to recommend it unless you want to go shiny shopping in canary wharf) (* shiny shopping i've termed shiny/glassy stores).

the tunnel used to be no-flash photography, but they've banned all photography in it, which i didn't realize until i took the elevator up and out the other side (sign in the elevator. elevator run by very nonchalant elevator operator), by which point i had already taken some photos. see below.

greenwich park / kids paddling pond



greenwich foot tunnel





a funny sign i found

keeping up with dr. k

today's my first official day as a tier 5 temporary worker at AI. exciting times. will share more about the day later.

but first. it's been a while since i've reported on the notorious dr. k. the latest from the hague:

PROSECUTION, JUDGES IN KARADZIC CASE STAND-OFF
Stalemate as prosecutors decline trial chamber’s request to trim charges ahead of trial.
By Simon Jennings in The Hague (TU No 617, 25-Sep-09)

Prosecutors bringing the case against former Bosnian Serb president Radovan Karadzic at the Hague tribunal have stood their ground in the face of pressure from judges to cut the indictment.

In the last court meeting between parties on September 8, pre-trial judge O-Gon Kwon, made a number of suggestions as to how the prosecution could limit the time it needs to present its case - including dropping charges related to alleged opportunistic killings in Potocari in the run up to the genocide in the eastern Bosnian enclave of Srebrenica in July 1995.

The existing indictment drafted on February 27, 2009, outlines five such execution incidents involving Bosniak men and boys on July 12 and 13 during the course of the wider Bosnian Serb operation at Srebrenica.

The judge also suggested that the number of municipalities in relation to which the prosecution plans to present criminal evidence should be cut from 27 to between 10 and 12.

However, prosecutors wrote to the three-judge panel on September 18 arguing that “those further reductions would have an adverse impact on the prosecution’s ability to fairly present its case”.

Kwon’s proposal that the prosecution cut the indictment further after it had already agreed to make certain cuts in response to a request from the judge’s predecessor on the case, Lord Iain Bonomy, sparked angry protest in the Bosnian capital, Sarajevo.

Members from some of the conflict’s victims’ associations took to the streets last week and set fire to pictures of tribunal judges outside the city’s United Nations office.

There is concern that if prosecutors limit the amount of evidence presented and reduce the number of crime sites covered during their case, this will jeopardise their bid to prove the most serious charges against the former president of the Serb-dominated region of Republika Srpska.

Karadzic faces an 11-count indictment, charging him with two counts of genocide for the forcible permanent removal of Bosniaks and Bosnian Croats from large parts of Bosnia as well as for the 1995 massacre of approximately 8,000 Bosniak men and boys at Srebrenica.

Read the full story.

greetings from heathrow

i'm presently sitting in the midst of a group of university of exeter freshers who are being coordinated and shipped off to their residences via shuttle bus. the customs officer was delighted that he wasn't going to have to process yet another student visa when i stepped up.

my flight over was grand. i was seated next to a lovely english couple from lincoln, england. we had a nice chat. and lest it be thought that i only write complaint letters, i am actually going to write a letter of commendation to air crapada. their selection of in-flight entertainment today was fabulous. i watched three movies in this order: the pool (from their "world cinema" selection), victoria day (from their "canadian film" selection) and "grey gardens" (from their "avant garde" selection) (i don't really get this last one, but whatever.) also, among the choices for TV show comedies were episodes of "fawlty towers". amazing.

my first observation as i look around the airport is that approximately 25% of the graduating classes of schools all over india have just arrived on the shores of england. the guy next to me just asked me if am from india. he's from gujarat, india & studying chartered accounting at LSE. i offered him a pound to make a call from a payphone but he refused to take it. unfortunately, i don't have a cell phone so i can't loan it to him. but i would. he's looking around for his ride. it's kind of crazy to think that i could have been one of these students too. maybe next year. or maybe not.

my motivation to apply to graduate school for fall 2010 is seriously dwindling. i don't think i can muster up the energy to do applications for admission and for funding and start harassing potential referees. argh. they probably weed out the lazy people like me just by making the application a multi-stage process.

well i should go take a look for j.m. and m.r.
just reporting that i got here safe & sound.

leaving tomorrow!

my visa came through and then it took about forever to get my flights booked but i am finally leaving YVR tomorrow for LHR. i arrive in london on sunday at 10:30 AM. a direct flight on air crapada -- at this point, i would have taken a cargo ship to london! my first day in the office at AI is tuesday!! in the midst of a major packing throwdown. i have 2 checked bags and 2 carry-on (though i haven't actually tested whether my carry-on items will actually fit in the 2 bags i have allotted for this task. fortunately, since the flight is direct, i won't have to wander around in strange airports killing time and causing further damage to my spine, neck and shoulders by hoisting extraheavy carry-on bags. of course, how i get my things from LHR to j.m.'s and m.r.'s place sunday morning will be interesting. and, i predict, sweaty. anyway, i just had to share my happiness with all of you.

also head's up nyc!! i am probably going to be in nyc for a week around t'giving this november. will keep you posted.

yippy skippy!

hiking the chief

a while back, i went for a hike near squamish, bc with s.b. and a.k. the hike -- the stawamus chief -- was definitely a work-out (at least for me). a.k. seems to be running up it, in my estimation. and my tired old body, wayyyy out of shape, was groaning and creaking for days afterwards. but it was good pain. we made it up to the first peak. of course my camera ran out of batteries at the top! i am proud to report, however, that i did not need helicoptor evacuation. you have to climb 2 ladders and use chains to walk up sheer rock. the most impressive route to the top is to rock climb the face of the cliff. and at the top you can see tiny specks of colour -- people climbing up the rock.

i recall my hike because having gone to the ymca here in slurry two days ago for a yoga stretch class advertised for all levels, including absolute beginners, i am now creaking and groaning again! but the ymca is amazing - it's huge & shiny & new & has a coffee shop inside it (an esquire's) -- it puts the y on atlantic avenue to shame.

At LONG LAST

I just received my passport back from the British High Commission with my visa approved!! I am now back to being internationally mobile! SO EXCITING. It's a cool-looking visa actually. I will now promptly return to the online survey the High Commission asked me to fill out. I was scared to do it until I had my passport in hand. Yes, a little paranoid.

HOORAY!

hot for bollywood ...

actors.

Well, Two of them anyway. And both are Bollywood royalty.

Ranbir Kapoor -- The latest generation of the Kapoor Dynasty (son of Neetu Singh and Rishi Kapoor. His family tree in Bollywood goes back five generations.)



Saif Ali Khan -- If the Indian government hadn't abolished royal entitlements, Saif's father (Mansoor Ali Khan Pataudi, the famous cricketer) would still be the 9th Nawab of Pataudi. And Saif's mom is the infamous beauty, Sharmila Tagore (she debuted in the Satyajit Ray film "The World of Apu").



Why settle for a coffee-shop crush which at least bears the possibility of once in a while face-time, when I can crush on people I have no chance of ever meeting?

trials, tribulations

the visa saga has an update. on monday, i went to the visa application center in vancouver operated by "worldbridge" (aka WB = worthless bottomfeeders): the entirely useless service that the british are using to process visas in canada (and a bunch of other countries). and when i say useless. i mean it. the british high commission has nothing to do with you until you've met with WB, been fingerprinted and had them essentially spellcheck your application. (i honestly can't see what value they added to my application -- they checked off that my address was correct and told me i needed supplemental materials, but didn't know what those supplemental materials were). wow. gee thanks. i don't know my own address and, having perused your website about 15,000 times i can tell you that "it's not all on there" and the "frequently-asked questions" section doesn't even begin to cover the half of my questions. i bet mine were frequently asked (and met with blank, cow-like stares). but i digress.

anyway, after WB looks at your application for a hot 15 minutes, gives you electronic fingerprints (though i kind of was looking forward to smudgy ink fingers, leading stranger to wonder what i'd been "booked" for) and pushes you out the door less informed than you were when you walked in, you have to submit your application package to the high commission in ottawa ON YOUR OWN. yes, WB doesn't even do that much. i couriered it and checked that it arrived. it did. at 9:35 am the next day.

so we're off to the races then.

i have a huge knot in my stomach - i'm anxious that the bank letter from citi isn't going to be the ridiculous information they wanted in the ridiculous way they wanted it. that's the number one reason people are rejected. i explained all i could in a cover letter, so i hope for the best.

on a lighter note:

i've been watching 24/7 indian programming. not quite 24/7 but close. one notable game show that airs on sony entertainment asia: "10 ka dum" ("the power of 10"),

"10 ka dum" is hosted by salman khan, a bollywood actor who has lately been on the decline. the show, however, is a raging success. and has led sony entertainment asia to a third-place ranking in the indian television media circus.

in round one, two competitors or teams face off to guess the percentage (closest wins) of indians surveyed (by an IPSO polling service in india) on a series of questions. winner of the first round goes on to (surprise!) the second round, where they face a series of similar questions. instead of coming closest to the correct percentage of indians surveyed, they have to give an answer within a percent range and the correct answer must fall within that range guessed. like "who wants to be a millionaire" you can always walk away and take your earlier winnings. as the value of the questions increases, the range within which your answer must be to be correct narrows. For Rs. 10,000 (about $204.60 USD), you must be correct within a range of 40%, For Rs. 1,00,000 (about $2,460), within 30%; For Rs. 10,00,000 (about $20,460), within 20%; For Rs. 1,00,00,000 ($204,600), within 10% and for the final prize of Rs. 10,00,00,000 ($2,046,000), you have to give the exact percentage.

* india seems to be the only country which uses different numerical separators. weirdos.

the notable thing about the show is the questions they ask! hilarious. last time i was watching they asked:

"what percentage of indian women surveyed said that they had hit their husband with a rolling pin?"

"what percentage of indian men surveyed said that they loosen the button of their trousers before they sit down to a meal?"

"what percentage of indian men surveyed say they bring their wives tea in bed?"

"what percentage of indian men surveyed say that they have used the ladies room?"

"what percentage of indian people surveyed think the story of their romance would make a blockbuster bollywood movie?"

etc, etc. you get the gist. hilarious!!

today's contestants were a trans-sexual versus a male-model a la zoolander. where do they find these people? oh yeah, there are 1 billion to choose from.

amazing.

people: do your jobs! correctly!!

i am royally peeved with the UPS delivery guy who was supposed to deliver a very important, urgent package to me yesterday. yes, the chances that he's reading this are next to nil, but i still need to rant.

in order to prove to the uk border agency that i have had GBP 800 in my account for the past 3 months (this is the piddly amount they expect you to "maintain" yourself on in the UK -- i'm sorry, but GBP 800 would be enough for rent for a month with about 8 room-mates, dining on food salvaged from dumpsters. but fine). the details of what needs to be in the proof that you have these funds borders on ridiculous: official everything, can't be faxed, needs to come from your financial institution (as opposed to notarized statements or something similar) on official letterhead, blah blah blah.

i get in touch with my NYC bank and arrange all these things. they have to send them to me via courier since the time for my interview is nearing. they sent it 2 day-express via UPS (oh by the way, i'm arranging all of this at 6:30 AM PST since my banker is at work at 9:30 AM and i want to make sure i get this done before her day gets ballistic.)

i wait a couple of days. no package. i get up early again - call the bank and ask for a tracking number. check the tracking number. oh wow. my package was apparently delivered yesterday to my front door. hahahaha. i circumnavigate the house looking for the package, tucked into a nook or cranny (incidentally, once a courier left university transcripts for my roommate (A.W.) underneath our welcome mat. the letter was discovered only when J.H. stepped on the welcome mat and felt it was a little weird. he looked under it. meanwhile, A.W. was going nuts because her grad school apps were due and she needed the transcripts.). no package.

i called UPS here in vancouver. they told me that they'd have to put a trace on the package. but that i can't authorize the trace. it has to be authorized by the shipper. so back to calling the bank, speaking to a very lovely person who was very helpful. she requested the trace. in a few minutes - after talking to UPS - she called back to say that the package had been delivered to the wrong address! about 4 houses down. UPS would go pick it up and re-deliver it. but couldn't say when i'd get it.

eventually, i walked over to the house where the package was mis-delivered. the door was answered by a surly lady (ah, slurry/sorry/sorely/surly) who had at her heels a HUGE dog. she had the door opened just a smidge, but i could hear her crazy, rabid dog trying to lunge at me through the closed door! aaaack. she said they didn't receive anything from UPS and was about to close the door in my face, when i asked if she could just take a quick look upstairs.

she begrudgingly agreed. she came back down (crazy dog kept watch over me standing in front of their closed door) with my package. apparently her elderly father had signed for it.

argh UPS and their illiterate delivery-people. yes, yes, anyone can make a mistake, i know. and i've made many, but for right-now, i'm going to be a meanie.

what a scary thought!

ever since i've been visiting in surrey, my dad and a couple of family friends have been suggesting that i open my own law firm. to which i always roll my eyes and say no way. i like law. i'm not a business person. if i were to open a business, it would be a combination stationary store / book store / music venue / art gallery / coffee shop / publishing house. not a law firm. today, my dad was on my back about it again. he then suggested (and i sincerely hope this was in jest though he wasn't smiling) that i open a firm and he will work at my law firm. as a consultant. to which i said "in what". he said "immigration matters." i said "no immigration work at my fictional firm, at least not for indian people because i am a racist." then he said he'd be my secretary. to which i replied "you can't type! and you have surly telephone voice."

oh dear god, i hope he wasn't being serious.

"star"

is it just me or is the word "star" used too liberally to describe people who have achieved a modicum of renown. for instance, a "reality-tv star" (and i think with very few exceptions, reality-tv personalities are not so star-like) is alleged to have killed his model (ex?)girlfriend (not model girlfriend as in best girlfriend, we should all attain to her level of girlfriend-y-ness, but model as in that's her profession) and then escaped across the porous border waters of canada / us. he's been found dead (apparently a suicide) in a hotel in hope, b.c. he's being described as a "star". his claim to fame is a dubious professional life in calgary, ab followed by a move to california where he "starred" on a show called "megan wants a millionaire" -- the fact that i never, ever heard of this program is telling (and frankly reflects on his lack of star-dom) since i watch a lot of tv.

anyway, that's my rant for the day. guy is not a star. he was a tv personality for a hot minute and is now renowned primarily (at least in these parts) for being allegedly a murderer. the details of his ex-girlfriend condition when found are particularly gruesome and worthy of a law & order SVU episode.

i'm sitting at esquire's coffee in surrey (am trying to find an amusing, mildly derogative word for surrey -- have heard both "sorry" and "slurry" both are good. maybe i'll set up a poll for the name once i have a few other entries) nursing a latte and abusing wifi.

c.h. is in town for a week or so, which is excellent news for my social life. already have plans to leave sorry / slurry tomorrow. woot-woot!

RED FM IDOL

as part of my long exile in surrey, bc, i'm taking in the cultural sights and sounds. sounds mainly tonight. i went with my mom and my aunt to see the RED FM idol finals. RED FM is a south-asian (mainly punjabi tho') radio station in the lower mainland (vancouver and environs) that my parents listen to religiously. the commercials on RED FM are hilarious. you'd have to know punjabi to really get the hilarity of them (unintentional hilarity on occasion) but let's just say there's one about going to the capilano suspension bridge and eating fudge that makes me so happy.

below are some pictures from the competition. the woman in white won, after 2 tie-break extra song performances, narrowly edging out the guy in the red jacket (who, incidentally, contracted an eye cancer when he was 2 years old and has been blind ever since). there were 9 finalists performing tonight (well, actually 8 because one person got sick and couldn't perform) in 3 rounds - from 8 to 5 to 3 and then down to the winner.

anyway, it was well worth the $5 price of admission.

adventures in air-con

i traveled with my parents all over the greater surrey region (including south surrey and parts of langley/white rock) in search of a portable air-conditioner for my parents. traveled from big box store to big box store (all blessedly air-conditioned) only to find out that all air conditioning units & fans (of the non-ceiling fan variety) were sold out. everywhere. well, not true. at "canadian tire" they had a $10 "desk fan" that looked like it could cool one of my elbows. at most.

as a consequence of the trek through vast swathes of suburbia, i did get to check out the super duper crazy huge "wal-mart" in south surrey. it puts "target" on atlantic avenue to shame. the square footage of this "wal-mart" might actually rival that of rhode island. seriously. it's huge. you need homing devices just to find your way back to the entrance. "wal-mart", "home de(s)pot", "canadian tire", and all the other places we either went to check out (just cause we were in the 'hood -- which means we were a 20 minute drive away) or called were all out of stock on air-conditioners. nothing left. (my dad made me walk around the stores because he didn't think the salespeople working the department would really know if all of the units were gone!) "home depot" said they'd get another shipment in the following day, but couldn't say when they'd receive it (their last shipment of air-conditioners arrived at noon and sold out in an hour -- when did air conditioners in the lower mainland become as scarce as U2 tickets during the "achtung baby" tour? -- anyway, they advised us to call them at 6 AM (!!) and to be prepared to be there at 7 AM (!!) for an air conditioner. suffice it to say, we didn't call or show up. lucky, lucky -- the heat appears to be breaking or i'm just recalling the halcyon days of NYC and dealing.

as for "(500) days of summer" -- the movie is great! compelling characters, great narrative. but. the movie theatre lost power at the most critical point of the plot (where all the windows into the motivations and actions of the female lead were to be opened unto a sky of blue). and something was wrong with their generators. power was out not in the city, not on the street ... just the movie theatre. at first, they said it would be right on again, but after about 15 minutes of waiting around, they told us it's a no-go. all the movies for the rest of the night were canceled and we got free movie vouchers (only 1 apiece though). i'm surprisingly less upset about it today, now that i have had time to ruminate on what could possibly have been the end of the film. it's a choose-you-own-adventure in a way. maybe i'll drop all my films at 10-15 minutes before the end?

the last day.point.five has been awesome: hanging out with friends and doing normal friend-type things that people do when they live in the same city and aren't in town for a hot minute and proceeding to see 20 people in a 2- to 3-hour time slot.

i will write more on poland. and on the hague. maybe just highlights.

how about the first highlight being g.g. the super-cute & darlingly french-accented guy on whom i developed a 2.5 week crush, only to have all my hopes of even just friendship dashed by no response to email (i sent only 2 emails: one email, saying i'd email pictures and the other email actually attaching pictures). not even a thank-you. wtf!? comprenez-vous "douchedeluxebag"?

anyway. i got over that pretty fast. because. well, i had to. it's hard to keep a crush going (even for someone as wildly imaginative and deluded as me) in the absence of any further contact. but, as a word to my male-readers out there: do not spill your heart out to someone over a 10-day period, invite that person to visit you in your foreign country, insist that you will look that person up next time you are in their soon-to-be foreign home if you do not plan to have any other contact with said person. ever again. at all. at best, it's a misunderstanding. at worst, it's a damn lie. and i ask again: comprenez-vous "you suck"?

ok, yeah, so clearly i'm over it.

oh, another surrey moment to report: went to get a massage from a massage-therapist here that my mom has been to, who has (what i was lead to believe) a perfectly fine home-business. half-way through the massage, the massage therapist (an indian auntie -- this fact will be come relevant in about one second) asks me if i'm married (see, it's entirely relevant) and i say no. then i get myself into a conversation (i use that word loosely, more like a soliloquy with more and more hostile grunting in response from me) about marriage and partnership and child-bearing. i'm seriously starting to lose it. of course i am trapped under this persons deft (i have to admit, she did give me a pretty good massage) fingers, lying half-naked on her massage table.

my mom is sitting within hearing distance, but i think she might have dozed off. still i can't take the chance of using one of my usual responses, which is either (a) i am barren. i will never marry. who would want my useless womb?; or (b) i was married. to a tree. it didn't work out; or (c) my parents used up all their money on my brother's wedding and now i can't have one; or (d) my livestock dowry died (a variation on (c)). hearing any of those responses could have had a devastating effect on my mother, who (bless her heart) has not one mean bone in her body. (yep, i got them all -- hit the DNA jackpot!!)

ahhhhhhhhhrrrrrrrrrrghhhhhhhhhhh. anyway, i said & did nothing. once she realized that i was pissed off, she was trying to be all "live and let live about it", but in that judgey, unconvincing tone that meant that i was surely going to rot in the whatever-religion-she-was version of hell for all eternity for living my life in opposition to the laws of man and god and all things good and virtuous and wonderful.

as an aside: i was actually quite impressed by quickly she deduced that if i were born in october 1975, i'm 33 years old now.

good math skills. shitastic business acumen. even if my back falls off and my shoulders calcify, i will never go back to her.

over & out. for now.

weather report

vancouver is so disgustingly hot and humid. it's like nyc in the dead of heat. but one big difference is that people don't typically have air conditioning here. we're off to go find a portable unit for my parents. good lord, i'm melting. still here kicking it in surrey, awaiting news on my visa. any day now is what i've been told. i'm tiring of the idle life of living with parents and being a mooch. i'm already up to my eyeballs in work for AI, and it would be so much better to have a proper work-space. and to not be melting while i work. went to the public library near-by. it's a tiny little thing, their wifi was on the fritz and some guy was using a drill INSIDE the library. what the? i have to reread my last post to remember what i was going on about. am going to see "(500) days of summer" tomorrow. looking forward to it, in large part for the air conditioning. i am amazed that i spent SO long in nyc with no air conditioning unit. poor j.h. suffering along with me.

i am so aware that i'm not one of those "self-motivated" types who jump onto projects and get them done. i'm more of the need-a-deadline-and-without-one-i-will-procrastinate. that kind of throws working for myself out the door. unless working for myself entails being unemployed.

ok. off to find air conditioning.

will pick up where i left off, i sware. be patient with me. i have elbow sweat, ok.

it's been high time i blog

hello, hello.

terribly sorry (esp. to D.G.) for the lengthy absence from blogging. it's been a crazy month with homelessness leading to scant interwebs access. i can't remember when i last had a fixed address (though i call L.C.'s place in toronto home -- at least for purposes of passports, etc.).

i am now in surrey, bc. a place that perpetually smells like masala and is populated by more indian people than pockets of india. i am not certain of that, but it can't be far off the truth. my parents live in the heart of it, having built a house here to retire to a long time ago, when it wasn't so stinky. ah well. i do have a bedroom and semi-fixed domicile. mooching off parents, i've become a statistic.

(at the mo', dad is asleep on the couch, snoring that reaches richter-scale levels, while i sit at the kitchen table, scarfing down fresh blueberries.)

starting in reverse chron order.

i arrived back in canada a few days ago (to toronto) and arrived here yesterday afternoon. tis lovely to see L.C. and to wander the corktown/leslieville area. caught up with some culture (saw 2 plays, one at the fringe fest. and an outdoor art show!) arrived in toronto fresh from poland, where i was participating (along with about 37 other cool people in a course offered by the ICRC (red cross) on int'l humanitarian law. great course! awesome people (have now secured invites to finland, switzerland, belgium, holland, azerbaijan (!), italy, spain, etc.). hooray. met some people i hope i will stay in touch with (& am thinking seriously about (a) learning french for real, (b) learning to drive (again) & manual and (c) seeking some field deployment (afghanistan, anyone?) the conference center we were staying at was more like a summer camp, set about 30 minutes from warsaw and in the woods (wild rabid wolf dog kept me up at night, spotted a fox one morning).

to be continued ...

This man is my hero!

Taiwan 96-year-old grad student: All-nighters work
By ANNIE HUANG Associated Press Writer

Jun 11th, 2009 | TAIPEI, Taiwan -- A 96-year-old Taiwanese man who will receive his master's degree in philosophy this weekend said he was able to compete with younger students by pulling all-nighters before exams.

Chao Mu-he, better known to his classmates at Nanhua University in southern Taiwan as "Grandpa Chao," said he began graduate school after being told he was too old to continue as a volunteer at a local hospital.

"I was bored after I left the hospital," Chao said Thursday. "I don't play mahjong or have other hobbies. I felt I had to do something with my life."

In London, a spokeswoman for Guinness World Records said she could not say if Chao is the oldest recipient of a graduate degree because the company does not keep records in this category.

Chao said the most difficult part of his studies was coping with a poor memory.

"I can't remember things as well as my fellow students," he said. "So before a test I would wake up at midnight and study all night. That way, the material was still fresh in my mind when the test began."

He specialized in the works of Chuangtze, a 4th century B.C. Taoist master.

Twenty-five-year-old classmate Liang Yu-chen described Chao as a polite and modest man who got on well with fellow students and paid great respect to younger teachers -- making a deep bow before addressing them.

"Grandpa Chao is a living example of Chuangtze's teachings" Liang said. "He is always at ease, not fighting anyone."

A spokeswoman at Nanhua's graduate school, where Chao will get his degree Saturday, confirmed that he was born on July 4, 1912.

Chao, who lives alone, said he was uncertain about his future plans.

"I just want to stay healthy," he said.

oh, i can't believe i forgot!

one of the highlights (low lights?) of v.k.'s visit was our eurovision concert watching fireplace mishap.

i have a working fireplace in my apartment. v.k. and i decided to start a fire since it was a chilly evening. we ventured out first to buy snacks and a lighter. there was firewood and i had paper for kindling so we were good to go. of course, we had to open the flue. it was the most bizarre flue i'd ever seen. it sort of flicked up and out to open, or so it seemed.

v.k. opened the flue, or so we thought. she proceeded to make a fire. and it truly looked like the smoke was going up the chimney. until it smoked us in the living room! of course, only one of the windows in the living room opens, so we were sputtering and coughing for a while before it cleared out and we attempted again.

this time, the flue was properly opened and a roaring fire made. hilarious. i'm glad my upstairs neighbours were away for the weekend since the smoke was pretty potent and i'm sure they would have imagined i had burnt the house down.

can't believe i forgot to add that!

d.g. visits!

hot on the heels of v.k.'s visit, d.g. was in town. well he was in amsterdam, passing through the netherlands in the middle of his holiday to london. he was persuaded to visit me in ye olde haguee. i picked him up at den haag HS station and we wandered around town. first stop: herring. i have photographs of d.g. and his herring. i abstained, mainly because herring + early in the day = weird rumbles in my gut. actually herring + any time of day = weird rumbles. but especially so early. we wandered past historic hague monuments (most of which i don't know anything about) and walked down to denneweg for lunch. grabbed a salad and "burger" at cafe dendy. (burger was alright, but not really the burger experience i was craving).

post-lunch, we hit the escher museum. maurits cornelis (m.c.) escher was born in leeuwarden, the netherlands. d.g. revealed that, as an undergrad, he was the proud displayer of many iconic works of art by escher. seems to have been a universal undergraduate decor scheme. i forget the name of that group that would come to campus at ubc and sell posters, but they had a bunch of escher prints. the highlight of the escher museum, however, was birdman!!



ah, birdman. so creepy, so weird. so amusing.

post-museum, we ambled back to my place, stopping at bagel & beans for a coffee to-go (a rare treat in the hague: it's nigh impossible to find places that offer stuff "to-go"). d.g. had to be back in amsterdam for dinner, so we booted it back to my place and then went two doors down to "de paas" for drinks. delicious.



& then, a few specialty beers later, d.g. had to head back to amsterdam. & my whirlwind long weekend of visitors was over. boo.

a lovely day in london

took a break from my work to walk in greenwich park. 'tis such a lovely day here today. making it difficult to work. but work i must. i walked through the park to greenwich village, found a cafe there for lunch and ambled back to j.m.'s and m.r.'s lovely abode, which is spacious and bright.

anyway, back to the grind.

v.k. visits (part 2)

monday (con't):

before i keep going on our dining experience at cafe de punt, i forgot to mention our process of getting to amsterdam. v.k. was staying at an airport hotel in an place called hoofddorp, which is one of those places that grew up out of the fact that the airport was near. we took the train to schiphol and then took the airport shuttle to the hotel. we check in. then we proceed to wander and wander and wander around looking for the hoofddorp train station (which the concierge at the hotel said was a 10-minute walk away). it was closer to half an hour. we finally get to the train station and buy our tickets from the convenience store/ticket sales desk and are on our way. pretty funny. theme food of the day: kit kat mcflurry. but we never actually had one. :-(

so cafe de punt. cute waiter, named mark (as i found out later). we figure we'll stop at cafe de punt for a drink and then make our way back to homey italian restaurant. we strike up a conversation with our waiter, who is lavishing attention on us -- likely because we are the only customers except for 3 weird old men, playing video lottery machines in the corner. yes, we went to a classy place with v.l.t. machines. one of the creepy old men was a total lech. he kept staring at us. i made the mistake of smiling at him once when he walked by. apparently in his world that was an invitation to be ogled. perv.

the waiter convinces us that we should eat at cafe de punt. the food, he says, is the best in de pijp. the owner is the chef and he is a fantastic cook. the food is wonderful. in particular, he recommends a salad. actually, he recommends everything. i wonder if he receives a commission for each meal he sells. so we shrug our shoulders and decide to eat at cafe de punt.

the conversation was mostly about our single status and how outrageous it is that two fine ladies such as ourselves are lacking in the romance department. i suspect that the waiter is listening in on our conversation. we talk to the waiter - a lot. we ask him all sorts of questions. he lives in an abandoned office building with a bunch of other people. his room is a former corner-office. and he is legally living in this place to keep out illegal squatters. it's some strange law in the netherlands where you have building management companies filling up abandoned buildings with legit tenants to avoid having illegit ones. strange.

we are flirting like mad with the waiter. all is fun. creepy guys stares. we tell on him - the waiter comes back to announce that he's left. in the meantime, another patron had come into the restaurant: a middle-aged dutch man. he sits to my right and also orders a drink and dinner. he starts doodling on the paper place mat. we pay him no mind, until we strike up a conversation with him. v.k. asks him what dutch men are known for across europe. he tells us that dutch men are known to be good husbands, but kind of boring. haha. turns out he went to law school but never practiced - he ended up working for an academic publisher. he was pretty curious about our work as lawyers, and said that he could tell we had lived in ny because of how quickly we bantered with one another.

it turned out that the dutch man -- his name is martin -- was doodling a picture of me in side-profile. as v.k. noted (and i agree), he made me look older than i am, and gave me some sharp features, but you can tell that it's supposed to be me. there's enough of a resemblance. so, we continue to chat up our waiter, leave a too large for europe tip and head back to the train station.

we'd spent the entire evening at cafe de punt. whew. it was a long drawn-out dinner, punctuated with moments of ridiculousness. for example, i had written a list of all the qualities we want in a man (qualities that no one person could ever hope to have) in a little book i carry around for brainstorming. then i got the idea of asking mark for recommendations of places to go for music, drinks, dancing, etc. he started telling me some places and then told me he'd write them down in the book. he took the book from me, a pen (the pen that the dutch man used, actually, to draw my profile) and started diligently setting out his recommendations. i was convinced that he had seen our list of man-qualities and was laughing his ass off.

anyway, we did finally leave cafe de punt, and make our way back to the aiport, catching the last shuttle back to the hotel. an excellent day.

v.k. visits (part 1)

v.k. came to visit for a whirlwind long weekend of hilarious times. theme songs for the weekend: flo rida's "right round" and lady gaga's "poker face" (which mysterious did not play at all on mtv when v.k. was here, but otherwise plays all the time).

saturday:

v.k. arrived early on a saturday. after i convinced here that she would be jet-lagged and that running around amsterdam on saturday could result in us curling up under a bridge and napping for about 6 hours, she came to meet me at the hague. we got her settled in and then promptly napped. we got up, did some hague-walking around. commented on how like victoria this place is. we headed into de paas, the bar two doors down from my apartment, where i make everyone go. we found seats inside. the talk: our lack of mans and yet our amazingness. seated beside us was a group of about 8 guys, one of whom was dressed like robin hood, complete with a chapeau (that another friend was wearing). all while we were sitting there, they kept looking over at us. i felt like they wanted to talk. we finally asked them about the robin hood costume. turns out it was a bachelor party for their friend. well then! apparently, it is a typical thing to make the bachelor dress up in a costume, like robing hood, for instance. they surrounded us and took pictures of us with the bachelor, making him sit between v.k. and me and asking us to get close. essentially, draping us over the bachelor. so, some of the bachelor's friends were cute -- one was hottt. but of course we got no time with them. anyway, we were invited to catch up with them later on the plein, where they were going post-drinks. sounds like a wild, raucous night, right.

wrong. i lamed out and v.k. and i returned to my apartment, where we gorged on junk food and watched from start to finish the eurovision song contest, to watch norway's triumph. ah yes, a visit to the hague always ends up with me and my visitor in my apartment watching tv. sad, sad. i apologize to v.k. for subjecting her to my typical saturday night.

sunday:

but sunday, we were amazing. we left early, and went to keukenhof, which is the netherlands' version of butchart gardens. it's a tulip-y delight. the day was overcast with off and on spitting rain and sunny periods. a typical day in the netherlands. we had the world's friendliest bus driving to take us from leidan to keukenhof. best keukenhof highlight, beside the flowers of course -- the south indian "bollywood-type" production we witnessed. what we witnessed & heard was: a song that could have been sun by alvin, simon and theodore (the chipmunks) and a guy repeatedly jumping off a banister doing a spin in the air and landing with a thud, arms out in front of a glamourous sari-clad woman. the woman was pretty. the guy was beastly. there is a group of baffled dutch people and an embarrassed me watching. me embarrassed lest everyone think i'm part of the shooting. egad. other highlights included: weird cafeteria-type lunchtime dining & walking on man-made "stones" on a pond. highlight also include about 7000 photos of beautiful flowers. amazing. the last highlight, which was perhaps the highlighty-ist was when we stopped in one of the pavilions to listen to an old-man choir. we waited for them to sing a song in dutch. it didn't happen at least not while we were there. anyway, we were standing up against a planter. as we decided to leave, a strange dutch ladies (who had been staring at us off and on) stopped me, telling me that v.k. had that yellow stuff that's inside flowers on her hoodie. we stopped and i tried to brush it off. she grabbed v.k. by the arm and said ominously, "you'll NEVER get it out." huh? thanks for nothing.

on the way back to the hague, we decided to check out leidan and grab some food there. much to our surprise, sunday was the date of the leidan marathon. amazing. we kicked around leidan for a bit & made our way back to the hague to grab dinner at garoeda (delish indonesian food). post-garoeda, we found a bar (supermarkt) with live "music" (using that word loosely). the patrons of supermarkt were wholly bizarre: first of all there was a guy we nicknamed "mr. miyagi" -- he seriously looked like pat morita. then, there was the woman in the tiny, silver lame dress, who was seated on a stool and had no apparent awareness of the length of her dress and the peep show she was giving everyone. the crowd was ranged in age from 17 to 67. we had G&Ts which meant that were each handed a glassful of gin & a small-sized bottle of tonic. i thought i would pass out from the fumes alone.

made our way home, in anticipation of our big day in the big city on monday.

monday:

we woke up late. grabbed breakfast en route to Den Haag HS station and got into amsterdam a couple of hours later than we'd hoped. two items on the agenda: cheese & chocolate. v.k. is the most generous traveller i know. she bought a tonne of chocolate for friends at work. my friends are lucky if they get a post card or a magnet. we went to puccini bonbons (something like that) for chocolate. across the street was reypenauer (something like that) cheese shop. gouda & goat cheese. strictly. then we went to this amazing cheese shoperie called "kase kamer" (cheese room). there we had many samples and bought much cheese. we wandered around with our purchases eventually stopping for a snack (i introduced v.k. to stroopwafels, a delicious treat that i will miss when i leave -- two flat waffles with caramel inside. delicious!) we gave up on going to the opera (we'd spent considerable time trying to find things to do for our evening in amsterdam). we then went on a boondoggle search for a place to have dinner. we hit one of the streets a guidebook said was good for dining. we weren't really impressed by anything we saw. we finally decided to check out an italian restaurant that had rave reviews. we walked past the window and a surly man sitting at a table just inside the restaurant gave us a very odd, very unfriendly look. forget you, assface. so we continued our quest. we headed south and got to the pijp area of amsterdam, having again found a place in the guidebook that sounded promising. we finally found it (after a slight mishap where i thought the restaurant might have closed down but we were on the wrong street). we got to the spot where the restaurant was in existence, but it looked closed. we sat down on the bench outside, dejected. not yet starving, but coming close to real, gnawing hunger. we saw a guy park his bike and go inside, returning with a pizza. we asked if the restaurant was open. it was. hooray.

we went in search of a place to get a drink before we would head back to the restaurant (it was a homey italian place) for dinner.

we wandered and meandered. and found a place called cafe de punt, which looked like a good place for a drink. the bartender was a very young man, who looked like he could be about 14. we settled in with wine and started what would become a quite humourous night.

to be continued.

interesting discussion re Holbrooke-Karadzic Agreement

i don't know if this work-related blogging is interesting to anyone reading (save me), but since is public and involves my otherwise unpublic worklife, i'm blogging about it. just try to stop me.

check out the following link discussing the agreement on opinio juris. fascinating stuff. the link is here.

comments. spirited discussion. welcomed.

a damn fine cup of coffee

as part of my saving money exercise (which will take on more urgency when i'm living in london, surrounded by glitter and fabulosity that can only be purchased with many, many GBP), i have been saving on the cost of a latte a day by making coffee at home in a french press.

i've taken heed of all those studies that show just how much you can save in a week / a month / a year if you give up your "starbucks habit". what those studies fail to consider, however, is the value of the increased quality of life that comes with a damn fine cuppa joe.

i make bad coffee. it's why my career as an intern didn't take off until my 30s. my coffee is so bad that even i won't drink it. i could never foist it upon anyone else. now that i'm making coffee at home again, i've come to realize just how bad my coffee is. it's wretched. i pour most of it down the drain and fantasize about those halcyon days of yore when i would wile away hours at coffee shops, throwing down cash for lattes and croissants. ah.

but this morning, something kind of amazing happened. i just enjoyed my homemade cup of coffee. and i actually ENJOYED it. i finally made a good cup of coffee! i'm going to stop typing to pat myself on the back. ok, done. so now i just have to replicate the formula for today's cup of coffee every day for the rest of my life.

yeah, good luck with that.

press conference photos!

may 25, 2009
photos of the press conference.