So I just read this article in the New York Times about public transportation in European cities being your best bet when traveling this summer, what with the dollar weeping softly each and every time you trade it in for that more expensive euro model. And it made me miss UBahns and subways and RERS and buses- frankly, I wasn't expecting that. I know I love public transportation, mostly because I'm a cheap ass creeper who loves to watch people, but I didn't think it'd be something I would miss.

It all goes along with my desire to assimilate as much as possible is any place, I suppose. I don't enjoy being a tourist- wearing fanny pack/money pooches, socks with sandals, speaking English loudly, and given the set menu (and not just because I don't eat meat). Public transportation puts you with the people, and makes me feel like I might actually live some place, especially if I'm figuring out the lines and such in another language. Plus, I like puzzles. And those mazes for you pencils that are on the backs of kids menus at restaurants.

I miss Europe. I'm already planning a trip back, which is pawing at becoming a trip to Lebanon, which reflects the fact that I'm working two jobs this summer, and much as I love one (Lush!) and love the tips at another (coffee!...... Dunkin Donuts), it's soul crushing. And hard. And I'm feeling the old anxiety come back. Which found me meditating last night, because my brain started freaking out and I kept fixating on baby chicken bones. Yeah. That's what OCD/anxiety is like.

I'm good though. I have an apartment for next year. A bike I'm saving up for. It stopped raining, and I'll be going for a run. This summer turned itself around nicely.

Labels: anxiety, europe, summer, transportation

I've been missing Dublin more and more as I return to cooking. Two days ago I made a tofu curry, and I wanted more than anything as I ate it while reading 'Eat, Pray, Love' (the book that made its rounds through the flats last semester), was someone (Beth, Amanda) to taste it, to eat with me and laugh. I'm sitting outside the kitchen now, waiting for the Lemon Pudding Cake (courtesy of Vegan Dad) to bake so I can prove to my mom that I can indeed cook more than just those crazy chickpeas, and all I can remember is the first/last time I made that cake- still drunk, Easter morning, for our wonderful brunch.

I guess it's no surprise that food triggers these memories- I mean, by the end of the semester I was crazy my mom's zitti and diner food like no one's business (and believe me, it became everyone's business since I bitched so much about it). I still associate the smell of wet parsley with my grandmother (but maybe that's just a generic old folks smell) and cleaning her home out after her death years ago. And now when I look to moving to Williamsburg, I'm basing living off of making sure I have access to kitchen (which is why I'll be living off campus).

Food is a comfort, and a refuge, and a joy. And I hate not being about to share that with those I love, when I want to.

Labels: food, ireland recap, transferring, williamsburg