Con te partiro paesi che non ho mai veduto e vissuto con te
Ciao.
I spent the night in Italy, well pseudo-Italia anyway. Actually, Italy is the place I miss the most from my travels. I miss the language, the people, the beauty. I dated someone whose family was from Italy. He sometimes reads this blog (Ciao, Samuzzo), and while I miss having him in my life as a friend, I also miss the inclusion of Italy in my life, even if in bits and pieces. I was learning Italian pretty heavily at the time, and I gave it up since I moved from Chicago, but maybe I'll take it up again. Yeah, right, I'll do that in between 50 page articles on information processing simulation programs. Sigh. One day I'll have my life back.
It's a Wednesday night in Lubbock with no students in sight because they are all on real vacations, not imaginary ones. The traffic lights are all on blink mode, which is just odd. The place is a ghost town, really. I actually like Lubbock better this way, except for the fact that nothing is freaking open. Then again, these aren't spring break hours. Everything always closes at 9, but I am just always working late or home studying so I never noticed before.
Anyway, back to my trip. I decided to let my Botticelli curls down, which I don't do often. I feel exposed with my hair down, and since straight hair seems to be forever "in," I feel very self conscious about it. But it seemed that tonight was a night for curly locks, and I let them fall as they wished, spilling over my shoulders in wild abandon. I then slipped into a little empire waisted sundress and relished the 70 degree weather. I headed to my favorite little shopping area, which is a renovated apartment complex turned boutique quadrangle. No one was around, so it was very, very weird shopping. Everyone was staring at me greedily, so I gave up and went into the little wine cafe, not Italian but whatever. I probably should've ordered an Italian wine, but instead, I got an overpriced but good Argentenian malbec and a shiraz with a rather unfortunate name (Lengs and Cooter) and chatted up the staff since NO ONE was in the place. The chefs were bored and began having an Iron Chef contest, and guess who was the judge? That's right, yours truly. Yummers! Truly, it was hard to decide: Pumpkin and blackberry empanada with a pineapple wasabi (the secret ingredient) cream sauce or a pumpkin, pineapple, blackberry creme brulee with a hint of wasabi. The creme brulee was the better flavored of the two, but the presentation was lacking, and he didn't have a torch to caramelize the sugar. I scolded him for his lack of MacGyver culinary skills and awarded the prize to the empanada, which was unbelievably tasty. They tried to throw away the remains, but I asked them to leave them there. Hey, I'm not a real judge. I'm a hungry grad student who needs some free food, damnit.
Sadly, they had no coffee, so I tried to go to my favorite little place which was closed, as were all the other coffee shops in town. So I headed home in my gilded carriage, turned on some Bocelli and made a homemade cappuccino. And now I'm exhausted. Buon notte.
I spent the night in Italy, well pseudo-Italia anyway. Actually, Italy is the place I miss the most from my travels. I miss the language, the people, the beauty. I dated someone whose family was from Italy. He sometimes reads this blog (Ciao, Samuzzo), and while I miss having him in my life as a friend, I also miss the inclusion of Italy in my life, even if in bits and pieces. I was learning Italian pretty heavily at the time, and I gave it up since I moved from Chicago, but maybe I'll take it up again. Yeah, right, I'll do that in between 50 page articles on information processing simulation programs. Sigh. One day I'll have my life back.
It's a Wednesday night in Lubbock with no students in sight because they are all on real vacations, not imaginary ones. The traffic lights are all on blink mode, which is just odd. The place is a ghost town, really. I actually like Lubbock better this way, except for the fact that nothing is freaking open. Then again, these aren't spring break hours. Everything always closes at 9, but I am just always working late or home studying so I never noticed before.
Anyway, back to my trip. I decided to let my Botticelli curls down, which I don't do often. I feel exposed with my hair down, and since straight hair seems to be forever "in," I feel very self conscious about it. But it seemed that tonight was a night for curly locks, and I let them fall as they wished, spilling over my shoulders in wild abandon. I then slipped into a little empire waisted sundress and relished the 70 degree weather. I headed to my favorite little shopping area, which is a renovated apartment complex turned boutique quadrangle. No one was around, so it was very, very weird shopping. Everyone was staring at me greedily, so I gave up and went into the little wine cafe, not Italian but whatever. I probably should've ordered an Italian wine, but instead, I got an overpriced but good Argentenian malbec and a shiraz with a rather unfortunate name (Lengs and Cooter) and chatted up the staff since NO ONE was in the place. The chefs were bored and began having an Iron Chef contest, and guess who was the judge? That's right, yours truly. Yummers! Truly, it was hard to decide: Pumpkin and blackberry empanada with a pineapple wasabi (the secret ingredient) cream sauce or a pumpkin, pineapple, blackberry creme brulee with a hint of wasabi. The creme brulee was the better flavored of the two, but the presentation was lacking, and he didn't have a torch to caramelize the sugar. I scolded him for his lack of MacGyver culinary skills and awarded the prize to the empanada, which was unbelievably tasty. They tried to throw away the remains, but I asked them to leave them there. Hey, I'm not a real judge. I'm a hungry grad student who needs some free food, damnit.
Sadly, they had no coffee, so I tried to go to my favorite little place which was closed, as were all the other coffee shops in town. So I headed home in my gilded carriage, turned on some Bocelli and made a homemade cappuccino. And now I'm exhausted. Buon notte.
Labels: imagination vacation, iron chef, italy, lubbock
posted by Cranky at 12:08 AM
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