Syaffolee

noreply@blogger.com (Sya) — Fri, 05 Feb 2010 04:09:00 +0000

This Blog Has Moved

Since Blogger is no longer supporting blogs using FTP, I have decided to move on to a different blogging platform. The archives since 2000 will stay here. But I am now blogging at Don't Shake the Flask.

noreply@blogger.com (Sya) — Sun, 03 Jan 2010 01:59:00 +0000

Really Cold

Today was clear and cold. Not good weather for walking about unless you want to turn into an icicle.

After checking out, my sister and I left our luggage in care of the hotel while we wandered about Toronto some more before we leave in the evening. We went to Chinatown and had dim sum at Dim Sum Banquet which was a lot more traditional in layout compared to the place we went to in Montreal. Here, the ladies carting around the food screamed out their wares like fishwives--which I found hilarious.

Then we wandered around the University of Toronto and took some pictures (primarily for our father's benefit) before riding a bit on the subway to make use of our day pass. For dinner, we went to Queen Mother's Cafe, which unlike the restaurant we went to on New Year's Eve, truly serves Asian fusion. I had the Pad Thai which was quite good.

At the moment, I'm waiting at VIA Rail Canada's lounge for people taking the sleeper cars. In some ways, I'm excited about taking this transcontinental trip, but then again, I'm not so sure about the other passengers. They're all of a certain type, if you know what I mean. Retirees with money to spend. I'm doing this on a semi-impulsive lark so we'll see how this goes.

noreply@blogger.com (Sya) — Sat, 02 Jan 2010 00:53:00 +0000

Wandering Around Toronto

We had breakfast at a small mom-and-pop cafe called Daily Brew on Bay before heading to a bookstore a block away which claimed to be The World's Biggest Bookstore. Honestly? Not even close. The chain bookstores in Canada such as Chapters and Indigo might even have more square footage.

Later in the day, we headed to Greektown on Danforth where our parents had lived while our dad was in grad school. But since that was about three decades ago, we figured that whatever had been up back then had either been torn down or renovated beyond recognition. We had some appetizers at The Friendly Greek and bought some cookies at a local Greek bakery called Athena.

Then it was back to the Eaton Centre in downtown where I was pretty much dragged along on the next chapter on my sister's quest for the perfect boot. And you guessed it: no boot found.

Also: No blog post for the next week due to my train trip across Canada. If I can get reception on the cell I'm borrowing, any updates will be on my account on Twitter.

From 20100101_Toronto

noreply@blogger.com (Sya) — Fri, 01 Jan 2010 15:37:00 +0000

Happy New Year!

While I'm still in the process of uploading the crazy, grainy video I took with my camera around midnight, here are some photos I took right before the hand hit twelve.

Right before we hit Nathan Phillips Square for the New Year's celebrations, we wandered a bit around downtown Toronto and got dinner at an "Asian fusion" restaurant called Made in China. The atmosphere was cute and chic--definitely for hip, young people--but the food was only so-so. I guess in decor and food, one has to give somewhere.

From 20091231_Toronto

noreply@blogger.com (Sya) — Thu, 31 Dec 2009 22:42:00 +0000

A Train Ride to Toronto

Early in the morning, we headed to Grand Central and took the 57 from Montreal to Toronto. It was pretty much uneventful. The scenery looked mostly misty due to snow. This evening, though, we may see the fireworks at Nathan Phillips Square across from Toronto's Old City Hall.

noreply@blogger.com (Sya) — Thu, 31 Dec 2009 01:41:00 +0000

Climbing, Sort of

After having brunch at Au Pain Dor�, my sister and I headed off to Mount Royal Park. First we passed by Victoria Hospital (where my sister was born) and General Hospital (where I was born). Victoria Hospital had, well, a Victorian sensibility in its architecture which I found interesting. General Hospital was more modern and appeared to be under construction for a new wing. Unfortunately, the hiking trails were closed due to snow so we took a circuitous route via C�te-des-Neiges. At the park, we walked around and went inner tubing.

On our way to visiting the pi�ce de r�sistance, L'Oratoire Saint-Joseph du Mont-Royal, we passed by firetrucks in front of a smoking residence. But aside from that, the visit to the cathedral was intriguing.

And after all the hiking, we went to La Banquise which specializes in poutine. We got a classic one and one topped with chicken and peas. All I can say is: if you get a regular size (the smallest size), you can share it with two people. And it was a good thing we were hiking all day and were hungry because otherwise it would have been way too much.

Oh, and my sister dragged me to more stores to look at boots. Still no perfect boot.

From 20091230_Montreal

noreply@blogger.com (Sya) — Wed, 30 Dec 2009 04:44:00 +0000

Boot Insanity

Was mostly dragged through Montreal's underground city to what seemed to be every store that sold boots in my sister's quest for the perfect boot. No boot found, however.

Other things done today: visiting Christ Church (only the exterior since it was closed), visiting the interior of Basilique Cathedrale Marie-Reine-du-Monde, and having lunch at Boustan famous because it was frequented by former Prime Minister Pierre Trudeau (very good, by the way).

From 20091229_Montreal

noreply@blogger.com (Sya) — Tue, 29 Dec 2009 03:22:00 +0000

Mostly M�tro

Once we finished breakfast, my sister and I headed off to the Mus�e Juste pour rire (or Just For Laughs Museum) because theoretically, they were open on Mondays. Unfortunately, the museum didn't have any shows scheduled for today so they were in effect, closed. So that was a bust.

That left us more time to explore Vieux-Montr�al or Old Montreal. First we wandered around the Basilique Notre-Dame de Montr�al which is an impressive and ornate cathedral. When we got there, there was a service going on in a chapel behind the main chapel--which I thought was a little odd. Afterwards, we spent a little time at a small shop called Canadian Maple Delights where we had maple tea, a maple tart, and maple gelato--definitely a recommended visitor's spot. A warning: the maple tart is very rich--so it was a good thing that my sister and I were splitting one. It was interesting sitting in the cafe and watching the snow come down outside. The atmosphere was sedate and relaxing as very few tourists stopped by. For about another hour, we wandered the shops and boutiques of Old Montreal before heading to the M�tro.

Ah, the M�tro. We had decided that we were going to pass or visit every single stop on the system. Before today, we had traveled partly on the Green, Orange, and Yellow lines. So today, we basically went on all of the Blue line, the rest of the Orange, and part of the Green line from Berri-UQAM to Angrignon. We will try to get the rest of the Green line to Honor�-Beaugrand and the Yellow line to Longueuil tomorrow. While one would think that this would be something tremendously boring to do--it actually wasn't so. When we got off the subway car at C�te-Vertu to take a brief look around, M�tro emergency personnel rushed into the train to look for something. I don't think anyone really knew what was going on, but we're being optimistic and guessing that they were just trying to fix some sort of mechanical failure.

For dinner, we went to Caf� Saigon downtown. It was actually quite good. I think my sister put it best when she said that it reminded her of our parents' cooking. There's a certain quality to the food of most Vietnamese restaurants that makes their food scream "restaurant". Caf� Saigon had a more home style taste to their dishes. Definitely a good choice to end our day.

From 20091228_Montreal

noreply@blogger.com (Sya) — Mon, 28 Dec 2009 15:41:00 +0000

Breakfast and Pictures from Yesterday

Currently we're having breakfast after treking in the snow one block away to Second Cup for some hot drinks. The bagels that we got yesterday from Dad's Bagels (poppyseed and sesame seed) are good but a little more sweet than I am used to.

And here are some pictures from yesterday (Grande Biblioth�que, Mus�e des beaux-arts de Montr�al, and sandwiches at Reuben's):

From 20091227_montreal

noreply@blogger.com (Sya) — Mon, 28 Dec 2009 06:06:00 +0000

Crazy Museum Day

Just a brief update since we got back around midnight. No pictures on this entry since I'm still in the process of uploading them. They'll be up later when I'm not feeling so tired or so busy.

During the day, we visited a couple of places--The Grande Biblioth�que (holy crap, their media collection is extensive. You could just borrow DVDs instead of subscribing to Netflix), Mus�e d'art contemporain de Montr�al (like all contemporary art, some of it is amazing, some of it is crap. Particularly loved the art installation by Tricia Middleton--personally I think just that is worth the price of admission), Reuben's for lunch (because we wanted to try Montreal's smoked meat--great atmosphere, highly recommended), and the Mus�e des beaux-arts de Montr�al (Squee! We came just in time for a Waterhouse exhibition--that was awesome).

As evening fell, we headed to the Biosphere--which is pretty interesting architecturally and has a good view at the top floor--but it is obviously geared towards kids. If I had been ten, I would have been more excited.

Later, my sister and I met up with one of her friends who grew up in Montreal. And he brought along more of his friends who were all loopy after getting stuffed with wine and chocolate. After a near accident involving skidding tires on ice, we managed to get to a theater to see Sherlock Holmes (a fun movie, although lacking a bit in the plot department). And after that was dinner at Mirana--a decent place although the wait for the food was kind of long considering how many other people were in the place (i.e. there was just us and maybe five other people).

And just before we got back to the hotel, we bought some bagels for tomorrow's breakfast at Dad's Bagels, a bagel and curry place that my sister's foodie friends swore was it. We'll see tomorrow morning.

noreply@blogger.com (Sya) — Sun, 27 Dec 2009 05:07:00 +0000

Hello, Boxing Day!

After a brief turn at the tourist office on Peel where the lady who attempted to help us claimed that today was Friday rather than Saturday, my sister and I headed off to Chinatown where we wandered around and found one dim sum place that was open on Rue Clark called Restaurant Ming Do, distinctive because it has a circular entrance way. The prices were reasonable and the food was all right (although the turnip cake was a little burnt). We ordered five dishes but by the time we finished four, we were already stuffed--so we saved the pork buns later for a snack.

We then headed on the metro's green line to Pie IX where we walked about the Olympic Park and had an awesome time at the Biodome--the birds there are absolutely fearless of humans. Then we visited the Insectarium where we mostly spent time searching for insects in the terrariums and watched gardener ants harvest flower petals to put in their fungus gardens. My sister attempted to take a movie of the ants, but her camera battery decided to die at that moment. Since the ticket to the Insectarium was also good for the Botanical Gardens, we went to the Garden greenhouses since the outdoor gardens are blanketed in snow.

By evening, it had started to rain ice and snow. We managed to make it downtown and find a restaurant listed in the guidebook serving North African cuisine, but it looked a little shady (i.e., nobody was eating at the place despite being open). So we settled for Restaurant Amir which is basically a Middle Eastern fast food place before heading down into the underground city to look at shops. However, it was already pretty late and most shops were already closed.

Tomorrow, I think we're going to try to cram as many museums as we can in a day since we got a 3-day museum pass. (Can't spread it out to Monday since they're all closed that day!)

From 20091226_Montreal_Biodome_et_al

noreply@blogger.com (Sya) — Sat, 26 Dec 2009 04:55:00 +0000

Christmas Day in Montreal

After a five hour trip on Air Canada where my sister ate one too many pineapple pastry buns that we had gotten from the grocery store the day before, we reached Montr�al. We took a taxi to our hotel to drop off our stuff before heading out for dinner.

The Montreal Notebook had recommended Ristorante Otto as a place that was still open on Christmas Day. I think their website should have clued me in to what sort of place this was because I think my sister and I stuck out like sore thumbs when we got there. It's a swanky chic place playing techno with waiters looking like Lotharios and waitresses in mini-skirts up to here. (You'd like this place if you're a man with a leg fetish. Otherwise: "Ack, my eyes!") My sister had cavatelli in a tomato and basil sauce (like "plump maggots" she whispered to me) and I had risotto with black truffles. Both dishes were on the salty side. Also, I think our waitress hated us for some reason because our check came back a bit damp.

We dawdled a bit while we walked back to the hotel. It seemed as if there was a lighted Christmas tree on every corner. There was a particularly impressive one on Place Ville Marie. We also passed by the Basilique-Cathedrale-Marie-Reine-du-Monde and the tourist office on Peel--which we will be visiting briefly tomorrow morning. Rue Sainte-Catherine is a bit interesting--ordinary shops and restaurants interspersed with more than one strip club. There was also a drunk guy blowing a horn at passing drivers.

From 20091225_Montreal_Downtown_Evening

My sister has things semi-planned out for tomorrow. Me? I think I'll just go with the flow and not get stressed out about anything. If something crazy happens, it'll just be another story to tell.

noreply@blogger.com (Sya) — Fri, 25 Dec 2009 04:19:00 +0000

Traveling on Christmas Eve

Perhaps only the insane travel on Christmas Eve, but this was just how it fell this year. After getting up at an obscenely early hour and getting to the Pullman-Moscow airport, I was kind of amazed at the number of people who got tunnel vision and thought that enormous Christmas gift lotions could go on carry-ons. Then I ended up sitting next to a biology professor who gave me much unsolicited advice on where to go for a post-doc after I graduate.

Otherwise, the plane trip to Seattle and the subsequent bus trip to Vancouver was uneventful.

I met up with my sister in downtown Vancouver and after stashing my luggage at her place, we hiked around town to find an open sushi place. Because the Olympics are to be held here next year, flags of different countries have been painted on some of the streets in downtown Vancouver--for example, Granville. (For any Americans planning on visiting next February, the United States flag is located on the northwest corner of South Granville and 11th.) We ended up at Ohako Sushi and tried the all you can eat lunch special. It was okay--my sister and I have had better. Then we went to the local T & T Supermarket at the International Village to get pastries for tomorrow morning. And before we caught the bus back to my sister's apartment, we wandered to Robson Square which had been converted into an ice skating rink.

From 20091224_Robson_Square

Currently, I'm helping my sister pack for tomorrow. And I think we may be having Vietnamese for dinner.

noreply@blogger.com (Sya) — Wed, 23 Dec 2009 04:16:00 +0000

T Minus Whatever: Not Really a Countdown, Just Some Musings

Winter breaks are usually not a terribly exciting time, for me at any rate. On most years, I fly back to my parents' house and pretty much vegetate. And during that time, I feel terribly guilty for not being productive. Or even semi-exciting.

This winter break is going to be different.

I don't really know why it's this year. Perhaps lately I've been feeling that life is too short to not seize the moment. Maybe it's because the big three-oh is less than a year away. Or a vague sense that if I don't somehow jumpstart myself, I'll end up as dusty as a defunct instrument in a dark corner of some lab. As I've been telling people, if I don't do it now, when will I do it? Oh sure, I could do it later, but as life goes on most people have the tendency to put things off.

So here's the itinerary for the next two weeks (I'm pretty sure I will have internet access so I can post the occasional photo--but if you don't see any posts here, hope that we're just having too much fun and not accidentally stuck in the boondocks somewhere):

1. Meet my sister in Vancouver on Christmas Eve.

2. On Christmas Day, take a flight to Montreal. Possibly visit Ristorante Otto if we're not totally exhausted from traveling.

3. Spend a week in Montreal. Probably hike Mount Royal. Eat dim sum. Visit the hospitals where we were born. Try poutine and generally get dragged along by my sister's quest to find foodie heaven. Visit a cathedral. Visit the botanical garden. Ride the metro. Shop in the underground city.

4. Before New Year's Eve, take a train to Toronto.

5. Have no idea what we'll be doing, but we'll definitely try to find the Greek neighborhood where my parents lived while my Dad was doing grad school at the University of Toronto.

6. After New Year's: see my sister off as she flies back to Vancouver. Take The Canadian to Vancouver.

7. Approximately four/five days on a transcontinental train! Read, write, talk to strange people, and see the rest of Canada go by.

8. Get back to Vancouver. Meet up with my uncle and then back to ol' Idaho.

But despite all this, my schedule is pretty flexible. So I'm asking all of you readers--what's an awesome must-see place we could visit? Keep in mind it shouldn't be far from the city--we won't have a car since we will primarily use the subway. Let me know if you have a suggestion for Montreal, Toronto, or what to do on a really long train ride.

Note: I'm giving out Google Wave invites to the first ten people who comment on this post and send me a note via e-mail that they want to enter this contest.

noreply@blogger.com (Sya) — Mon, 30 Nov 2009 23:12:00 +0000

Ode to the End

I just realized: Beethoven, a secondary character in this year's Nanowrimo novel, wrote nine complete symphonies. Winter on a Watch Glass is my ninth Nanowrimo novel. I wonder if the choice of Beethoven over other composers was partially based on the unconscious recognition of this coincidence.

It is the last day of November and I am sure many people are cramming in those last minute words. I'm worried about other deadlines at the moment, but for Nano, I'm finished. I passed 50k on the twenty-first but I kept writing because the story wasn't finished. And I harbored the hope that I would beat my record in 2005 of 74k.

I typed in the last word on 1:00 pm, November 29. According to my word processor (Open Office), I had over 90k words. However, due to a discrepancy between Open Office and the validator, I "lost" two thousand words. So officially, I only have 88k words. But still, that's more than 74k.

So what was different this year compared to the previous years? I'm not quite sure. The beginning of the month was somewhat rough emotionally. I knew that if I had decided to quit right then, no one would blame me. There are many things in life that are more important than writing a novel. And I've proved that I can reach 50k eight times already. I technically had nothing else to prove.

But the critical question was, why not? Every year is a challenge of one kind or another. Unless you set out to write the same sort of novel every year, the challenge will always be different. The time is somewhat scattered, but there were six entire days in which I wrote nothing. But skipped days never bothered me before. Why should it now? Besides my grandmother, a stubborn woman herself, wouldn't have wanted me to quit. In a way, Nanowrimo is about persistence. You have to ask yourself: are you persistent enough to keep going even when everything seems bleak? Or are you the sort of person who drops out at any opportunity? I do not quit at things in real life--otherwise, I wouldn't be where I am now--so why quit now?

Another thing that I attribute to my increased word count this year is Twitter and the recently instigated word sprints. Eventually, I did my own self-imposed sprints that were more conducive to my schedule, but I think this actually helped me increase the number of words I got in an hour (along with a little typing game that I had started playing). Where in previous years I averaged about one thousand words for each hour, this year I cut that time in half. There were even times when I wrote more than one thousand words in thirty minutes. This also resulted in chapters that were twice as long as the ones in previous years.

And the story itself? I'm not really sure what to say about it at this point. I think it's a little too close to the time I finished it to have anything about it sink into me. Was I passionate about the story? I'm also not quite sure what to say to that either. However, I knew that I wanted to see the end to it. I think there were times when it was obvious that I was flagging--especially when zombies started appearing. Otherwise, everything in the story was either planned or already simmering at the back of my mind.

So the end result? A historical dark fantasy located in a thinly veiled early 19th century Heidelberg with necromancy, poisonings, zombies, and death by belly dancing. Napoleon is also involved somehow. It's here, which can either be read in installments or downloaded in its entirety.

(Cross-posted at Writing Sya.)

noreply@blogger.com (Sya) — Wed, 11 Nov 2009 16:52:00 +0000

Twenty-Nine Invisible Balloons and Back to the Holiday

Sometimes, it's awkward having a birthday during the holiday. Particularly if the holiday isn't, well, a cheerful one. Pull out the balloons or the blue suit? Since I don't have any balloons (I gave all of mine away to the local Nanowrimo participants at the kick-off party), I suppose I'll just go on about my day as if it weren't my birthday. I think that would be more appropriate to those who have made more sacrifices than I have (or ever would, probably).

noreply@blogger.com (Sya) — Tue, 10 Nov 2009 18:13:00 +0000

A Blogiversary

It was eight years ago that I started this weblog on the now defunct Geocities using Blogger. Mostly, I've used this day to rant about something. Today, I'm just feeling tired and busy because events in the last two weeks pretty much upended my schedule. But here's to another year of, hopefully, more frequent blogging.

noreply@blogger.com (Sya) — Sun, 08 Nov 2009 22:29:00 +0000

If I Could Show Her These Photographs

Last week, my grandmother passed away--a little over a month after her ninety-fifth birthday.

I had planned on going up to Richmond, BC to see her during this year's winter break before my sister and I headed off to tromp around the Canadian metropolitan hinterland, but to say the least, my visit across the border came much sooner than expected.

My maternal grandmother was a stubborn and tough lady. Why just this summer, when she attended my cousin's wedding in Ohio, she humored us with her vocal dislike of all the American food at the reception. She was also quite healthy--so it was a shock, for everyone, when she died. If only I had known that the last time I would say good-bye to her was at a dinky Dayton airport...

I met up with my parents at Sea-Tac before driving up to Richmond.* My sister came down from Vancouver. Two of my uncles ("Big Uncle" and "Sixth Uncle") came over from Taiwan. For the few days that we were there, we stayed over at my other uncle's house ("Fourth Uncle"). The funeral and my grandmother's final resting place were western in the basics but strong with Chinese sensibility. I hope she would have approved.

Knowing that I am an inveterate scribbler and that I was doing Nanowrimo this month, after the funeral service, my father suggested--not for the first time--that I write some sort of epic saga about my grandmother's generation. My grandmother had seen a lot of world changing stuff in her time and it would be fitting to dedicate something like this to her, but while I think this is a cool idea (if I can put my own spin on in), I am afraid I can never do such a story justice.

While we were in Richmond, we went to the Continental Seafood Restaurant for dim sum. There are many, many dim sum places in this area, but this was particularly special because this was the place my mother and Fourth Uncle took my grandmother to eat about a week before she passed away. (Dim sum pictures on my Flickr account are located here.)

That evening, we also had a Vietnamese style dinner which my father, my sister, and I prepared while my mother and uncles were out shopping. This might seem a little strange at first glance, but I think it was very appropriate. My parents and my uncles grew up in Vietnam and I think, in a way, the dinner was a nostalgic reminder of their childhood--when my grandmother struggled as a single mother after her husband, my grandfather, also passed away very suddenly. (Pictures of where we shopped for dinner are here. Ingredients for a Vietnamese style dinner are here.)

And, just for kicks, here are some photographs of my cousins' cat Muffin, a.k.a. Mao. He's up to his usual antics, completely unaware that anything has happened.

*Tip for those of you planning a real vacation: this is cheaper than flying directly to Vancouver.

noreply@blogger.com (Sya) — Sun, 11 Oct 2009 21:17:00 +0000

Belated Photojournal: Germany Day 4

I've added photos for September 19 on Flickr here. Previously, September 16, September 17, and September 18.

The last day in Germany was spent in Ladenburg and Weinheim. Because my father and his college friends were all engineers, it was more of a let's-visit-where-Carl-Benz-lived day. Ladenburg is where Carl Benz had his garage, where the bishop of Worms had his residence, and where we took a little coffee break in a square filled with buildings that had supposedly been around since the 16th century. Later, we visited the Automuseum (not to be confused with the schmancy-fancy Mercedes-Benz Museum in Stuttgart) where I was forced to watch a cheesy German film on how Carl Benz developed his engines before being let loose to explore the museum. Frankly, I was more interested in looking at the late 19th century/early 20th century engines themselves than admiring actual car design.

From the car museum, there was a bit of car pool shuffling and I ended up riding with my father's friend from Munich, another of his college buddies who is the head architect for the aquarium built in Stralsund, and the architect's wife--a French teacher. And let me tell you, the architect was one wacky, wacky, chain-smoking dude. I saw him go through three cigarettes in fifteen minutes. And I was mostly dismayed when he and all the other older folks zoomed past me on the steep climb up a mountain to one of Weinheim's watch towers-turned-beer garden.

If this trip told me anything at all, it's that I need to get out more often from the lab bench and exercise. Or that maybe for some people, beer can be an incentive for practically anything.

noreply@blogger.com (Sya) — Tue, 06 Oct 2009 15:30:00 +0000

Belated Photojournal: Germany Day 3

I've added photos for September 18 on Flickr here. Previously, September 16 and September 17.

One of my father's old college friends and his wife drove from Munich the previous night and took us to visit the town of Speyer on our third day. (For the history-inclined, it's about 40 kilometers south of Worms.) Coming off of the highway, one passes what looks like a gee-whiz museum full of airplanes and an IMAX theater. But past that is a large graveled parking lot to the main part of town dominated by a gigantic cathedral built in the 11th century: the Dom St. Maria und St. Stephan--a World Heritage Site. Underneath the Romanesque cathedral is a crypt, which my father and his friends declined to visit. But being the morbidly curiously sort, of course I went. More than a dozen medieval kaisers are entombed there--and I wondered what they would have thought of all the tourists tramping down there to gawk at their stone coffins.

Afterwards, we did a little walking tour through the main part of town. We crashed an engagement party serving pretzels and champagne--no one seemed to mind--and walked past the Altp�rtel, a medieval combo of clock tower and gate. We took a small break at a coffee house and I downed a shot of espresso, black and straight, despite the wife of my father's friend admonishing me that the Italians saturated theirs with sugar before drinking. We visited another church hidden in a back alleyway in the late summer foliage--the Konviktskirche--which was a little more modern, if you call 1266 more modern. This small gem was virtually ignored by the rest of the tourists. Inside, an organ dominates the back and the windows panelled with jewel-colored stained glass. Outside, a rich and fragrant Monet-esque garden cloisters the church walls.

Before heading back to Weinheim where all the old college buddies were gathering for their reunion, we stopped at a restaurant a little beyond the main square with the fountain. I had sauerkraut, bratwurst, and Riesling (250 mL of it according to the marking on the glass)--and was promptly ill for the rest of the afternoon. I suppose the stereotypical German food does not agree with me at all.

noreply@blogger.com (Sya) — Mon, 05 Oct 2009 15:51:00 +0000

Belated Photojournal: Germany Day 2

I've added photos for September 17 on Flickr here. Previously, September 16.

On the second day, my father and I were mostly on our own. We took the train from Weinheim to Frankfurt--the cheaper train which stopped at every other station in between. At the Frankfurt train station, my father suggested we take a one hour tour on a double decker bus, but like the stereotypical male, he failed to clearly ask for directions to the bus stop when we dropped by the tourist info booth. It was only by accident that I spotted the bus stopping in front of the train station--among all the other busy traffic.

Frankfurt is a very modern city. The square surrounding the train station is international in flavor and shiny skyscrapers seem to be everywhere. After the ride on the bus, we took a boat ride on the River Main. The boat itself was scheduled to stop at a beer garden a little ways down the river, but was thwarted because an unauthorized speedboat was docked where the tour boat was supposed to dock (the captain did some shouting on his loudspeaker, but the owner of the speedboat did not appear).

The rest of the day, we walked along Schaumainkai which is pretty much a street populated solely by museums. The St�del Museum had quite a few paintings of the well known sort, but I was more impressed by their exhibition of Edvard Munch. The second museum we went to was the Liebieghaus--which specializes in sculpture. I'd say at least a solid half of their repertoire was devoted to religious works. The rest was a sprinkling of Greek/Roman, Egyptian, and Asian artifacts.

noreply@blogger.com (Sya) — Sun, 04 Oct 2009 19:03:00 +0000

Belated Photojournal: Germany Day 1

In September, I went over to Germany with my father for a few days, partly to go sightseeing and partly for a reunion with my father's old college buddies (who I've meet before--when I was a baby). We mostly stuck around the region of Frankfurt and Heidelberg.

I've added photos for September 16 on Flickr here. It was the first day we were in Germany. Fresh off the plane at around 8 AM, one of my father's friends took us off for breakfast and then a walking tour through Heidelberg (Main Street, Heidelberg Castle, Apothecary Museum) and the main part of Weinheim which is a small city approximately an hour's drive north of Heidelberg. Exhausting, but wonderful. And it was at the apothecary museum that I got my current idea for this year's Nanowrimo novel.

noreply@blogger.com (Sya) — Mon, 14 Sep 2009 05:02:00 +0000

And the Calves Eye the Rope, Resigned

"When you're young," said the married-with-children lab tech in a recent conversation, "you should take advantage of the opportunity to travel."

I nodded and added, "I also like traveling alone because I don't have to worry about what the other person wants to do."

"I'd rather travel with somebody else," another grad student disagreed. But then again, he's a bit of a blabbermouth homeboy. He must have someone to talk to--to the point of following other annoyed grad students to the bathroom. And he's deathly afraid of anything un-Idahoian, like Mississippi and hibachi grills.

A few days earlier, I overheard some undergrads on a walkway talking about a Palouse fair. Intrigued, I did a bit of Googling and found the Palouse Empire Fair. "Come and enjoy a fair-e-tail" the website proclaims. At first glance, I think most people would peg me as more of a suburban/city type person. Me and agriculture? It's sort of like pickles and peanut butter. But heck, I'm here, and because the juxtaposition is so weird, it's exactly why I wanted to go. I've been to a fair before, but this one had a rodeo and a sheep grooming contest scheduled. I am not used to the smell of livestock or country living, but unlike that grad student who shies away from anything outside of his comfort zone, anything new and different makes me want to jump in.

The fair itself was a couple miles east of Colfax, Washington, located in a dusty tract of rolling yellow hills, out in the middle of nowhere. It's dry and hot with a cloudless sky. I parked near the back entrance to the fair on straw and mud. I'm reminded of the Three Little Pigs. Perhaps a wolf came by and blew their house down so that cars and RVs and trailers could park on the straw foundation. Unfortunately, I didn't get to see pigs or wolves--the swine barn had closed early and a kid with a white t-shirt that had a red X over a picture of a wolf made it abundantly clear what the people around those parts thought about that fairy tale.

I walked about looking at different vendors. I meandered about in the horticulture barn--skirting enormous pumpkins and wilting sunflower stalks, pondering the inscrutability of first prize zucchini and overripe tomatoes. A few old ladies nearby discussed in serious tones lagomorphian diarrhea as one of the rabbits I looked at ran across his cage and stood up on his hind legs to be photographed. In the poultry barn, I came across a black pigeon, beak buried in his chest feathers. His owner hand-wrote a note on a green index card and strung it up on his wire cage. It read: "Sad and Lonely: Last week a hawk took my mate of 6 years."

After looking at some sleepy sheep and some cows (was that seething resentment I saw in their black, black eyes as the flash went off on my camera?), I bought a hot dog and ate it as a woman in a red shirt standing on the steps of a gazebo gave out prizes. Beside her sat three girls in blue dresses, fair princesses, smiling beatifically into the crowd. Beatifically because they didn't have to recite some long speech about agriculture from memory like the other girl in a cowboy hat who had been called up on stage. They just had to wave to get any applause.

There were other buildings housing handicrafts. There were quilts and clothes and flowers and hand-made muffins, of course. But there were also strange things. Like Lego sculptures that were probably made by fifth graders and a gigantic mosaic made entirely of lentils. I also noticed that quite a few quilts, paintings, and even a stained glass wall hanging were made by the same woman. Prolific artist or merely someone who just emptied her house to maximize her chances at getting that blue ribbon?

I bought a funnel cake and munched it as I watched the sheep grooming contest on some shaded bleachers. The teams had one hour to beautify the recalcitrant animals (far more feisty than last year, claimed one woman) before judging. The contestants whipped out carding combs and shears, but toothbrushes and cotton swabs were also used. I saw a grooming instrument that suspiciously resembled a toilet cleaning brush make brief appearances. A husband-wife-daughter team went about the task in a methodical manner, churning out the ovine-equivalent of Audrey Hepburn. The team next to them fluffed their sheep out into a gigantic puff ball. Some kids had to frantically clean their platform in panic when their animal pooped a couple of minutes before the end in defiance. One of the sheep wore sunglasses--cool and slicked up. Another one had to have its head swathed in a towel because it was thrashing around like a victim of the Spanish Inquisition.

And the rodeo--the audience, sometimes, was as fascinating to watch. The seats were made of bleached gray wood underpinned with wire. It was at this point that the sun seemed most intense, rapidly melting the shaved ice pineapple-coconut concoction in my hands. The rodeo queen walked about the audience in her blinding shirt with magenta sequins and gigantic silver buckle. The sheriff took a seat on the bench in front of mine, glaring at some other person from behind his shades. "Are you making trouble?" he demanded. There was some embarrassed murmuring.

Cowboys on horses on the dimpled dirt of the arena. In the afternoon, I felt like I was looking through a photograph, blurry, faded. It wasn't even like television or a movie--it seemed a bit surreal because I was swaddled in constant noise: of the people around me, the hawking of an old man trying to sell ice water, and Bob the announcer with his clown sidekick Ike. Bob and Ike constantly made fun of an absent, hairy-legged cowboy named Stan. "A candidate for Jenny Craig!" Bob exclaimed.

Bob and Ike also made fun of the champion and runner-up buckaroos. The champion clung on his angry horse like a peacock in his bright blue chaps long after the eight seconds were up. His hat fell onto the ground at one point, and his hair rippled like a flag in an angry breeze as the horse kicked up his heels. "He needs a haircut," Bob exclaimed. "But," he added as a reluctant afterthought, "he's single, ladies." Behind me, the champion's fangirls let out piercing screams. The runner-up, unfortunately, was compared to a law firm. And he barely clung onto his saddle as his mount went as crazy as a demon-possessed bumper car, slamming his hindquarters with all he was worth onto the fence that separated him and the audience sitting in the front row bleachers. People screamed then, too.

However, I left the rodeo puzzled. The winner of the women's roping event was a young pre-adolescent boy. While it's cool that the kid won with a time under 2.5 seconds, I'm not quite sure why the organizers thought it was a good idea to lump the boys with the women. What's the point of having a women's division if only the boys are winning?

noreply@blogger.com (Sya) — Sun, 13 Sep 2009 02:24:00 +0000

A Few Snippets from a Wedding Observer

Despite differences in details, most weddings seem to be pretty much the same. The one I attended earlier today was interesting in that the priest (it was a Catholic wedding) did the service in both English and Spanish. And afterwards, during the reception, there was a bit of Polish chanting of which I understood not at all. So here's some amusing observations with all the boring stuff cut out:

* * *
The priest during the wedding ceremony: "Nowadays, young people like to light a unity candle..."

As the priest rambled on, the deacon looked very confused.

"So now, if the bride and groom and come up and light the candle..."

The deacon held up a folder and said something to the priest that was inaudible to the audience.

The priest replied: "Oh, I'm getting ahead of myself! They haven't even said their vows yet. We should probably do that."

* * *
During the reception, one of the undergrads decided to play a small prank.

"Hey," he told another grad student. "Your advisor just called. He wants to know why you aren't in lab."

Her jaw dropped open in stressed-out horror before everyone at the table burst into laughter. (Her advisor is known to be pretty exacting.)

* * *
I was forced to stand with the rest of the women guests for the toss of the bridal bouquet. However, I chose a spot on the edge as quite a few young ladies, eager to catch it, were jostling each other and practicing their wide-receiver poses like mad bargain hunters at a Macy's 50% off sale. The result was fairly mundane--the bride tossed the bouquet and someone caught it.

The tossing of the garter was a different story. The first time the groom threw it, it landed on the floor and no one reached out to take it. The second time the groom threw it, it went far enough to land in the crowd, but everyone ran out of the way to avoid the garter. The third time the groom threw it...

Well, he didn't throw it. One particularly skittish bachelor simply took off running out of the reception hall (probably thinking that the groom did toss it). The groom and his groomsmen took off after him and dragged him bodily back into the reception hall. He was squirming unhappily as they restrained him. The garter was strapped to the hapless guy's head like a frilly headband as people laughed at his futile efforts at escape and took pictures.

Lesson: Although running away might sound like a good idea, it will only make things worse for you.

noreply@blogger.com (Sya) — Sat, 12 Sep 2009 07:16:00 +0000

Book Review: Deanna Raybourn - Silent in the Grave

On a blog post, now forgotten, someone asked about memorable first lines of novels. Several commenters mentioned Deanna Raybourn's Silent in the Grave as it starts with: "To say that I met Nicholas Brisbane over my husband's dead body is not entirely accurate. Edward, it should be noted, was still twitching upon the floor." It's catchy, but then a lot of novels have catchy first lines. Take Moby Dick, for instance. But I've never had much inclination to read that tome--the blame, unfortunately, lies with a certain economics professor who spent most of class time ranting about the financial feasibility of whaling. Anyway, I had mostly forgotten about that blog post until this week when I came across Raybourn's book. And I thought, "Ah, this sounds vaguely familiar."

I usually pay attention to the book summaries and blurbs first. And then perhaps read other reviews to see whether or not I'd like the book. This time, I started reading the first chapter and promptly forgot about putting it down until I realized it was 1:00 AM and that I needed to get some sleep if I wanted to get to lab the next morning in some sort of coherent state.

When Julia Grey's husband Edward expires during a dinner party, it appears on the surface that the Greys' hereditary heart ailment has struck again. But the private inquiry agent that he has hired, the enigmatic Nicholas Brisbane, claims that Edward may have been murdered. Still unsettled by her newly widowed state, she denies such a thing could be possible and sends Brisbane away. It is only until one year after mourning, while cleaning out her deceased husband's desk, that she finds a threatening note indicating that Brisbane might have been right after all. She brings the note to Brisbane to enlist his help on finding her husband's murder. However, the more they delve into the mystery, the more Julia learns how little she knew about her husband and the people around her.

There are several thematic threads running through the novel that I think Raybourn did very well. One was Julia's personal growth. In the beginning, she is a rather timid character, allowing herself to be buffeted by circumstance and the stronger personalities of others. Even her sister Portia accuses her of being a mouse. But as she realizes her independence, she grows in her confidence to the point that she stands as an intellectual equal to the tempestuous Brisbane. The relationship between Julia and Nicholas was complex as it was interesting. The pairing reminded me vaguely of Amelia Peabody and Radcliffe Emerson in Elizabeth Peters' Crocodile on the Sandbank. But while Crocodile's main characters ended up in a rather straightforward happy ending, the characters in this novel were not so simple. Their interactions with each other are volatile, almost antagonistic, fraught with an attraction that neither could act upon. Despite her personal growth, Julia still retains insecurities and doubts about Brisbane's motives--as his actions and demeanor mark him as dangerous.

The mystery portion of the novel was rather--expected. While I enjoyed journeying with the main characters in gathering the clues and putting the puzzle pieces together, I had already guessed at the murderer and the motive. Whether I'm good at deducing mysteries or that I was just lucky, it doesn't matter much in this case. Perhaps this might have been a glaring flaw in a purely mystery novel with no subplots going on. But in this novel, the mystery was secondary at times--as it helped, rather, to spur on character development. Speaking of characters, I enjoyed the secondaries, particularly Julia's eccentric family. And Brisbane was quite mysterious and brooding--a cross between a Bronte hero and Sherlock Holmes with a liberal dose of Frederick Pope. My biggest disappointment was that the illness he was suffering from wasn't malaria, rather something else that would fit perfectly in a Gothic romance.

Will I remember the first line of this novel like so many other people who have read it? Due to my terrible memory for literary quotes (although one should rest assured that my memory for science-y things are much better), probably not. However, I will remember that it was fun and engrossing--the first book I managed to finish after two months of exasperation with other novels. While witty repartee may be the only thing a reader gets from your average novelist, Raybourn ably includes enough detail and style to immerse one into her version of Victorian England that is an intriguing mix of gentility and pretense, unconventionality and action. Now, if only the local bookstores got their acts together and stocked Silent in the Sanctuary....