Cafe Culture

The best part about the six months I studied abroad in Santiago was this little cafe about a 5 minute walk from where I lived. I went there nearly every day. About 3-4 times per week I actually sat and stayed for a while, and the other days I'd just pick up some bread, cheese and cookies for lunch and then be on my way. I had two favourite times to go: Sunday afternoons and weekdays between 5-6. I always ordered a variation of the following things: mendocinos or mendocinos chicos (those dulce de leche/manjar filled cookies I mentioned in the post on dulce de leche), cafe helado (an amazing ice coffee in a tall milkshake like glass with 2 big scoops of vanilla ice cream and sometimes whip cream on top, see picture below), some other manjar filled pastry, or occasionally bread and cheese. On Sundays, the cafe was open for a few hours in the morning, then it closed from 12-2 and then reopened from 2-6. I would usually go around 2:15 or 2:30, order a cafe helado and write letters.

The cafe was on the corner (which is always ideal, I love corner rooms/corner cafes/ anything that has windows on two sides is great with me!) and had big windows on both sides. My favourite table was right next to the big side windows where I could watch people walk down the street. I almost always went alone to the cafe on Sundays, but during the week I'd either go alone or with C. or L. Unsurprisingly, the women who worked at the cafe knew me. One late weekday afternoon as I got up to leave, my favourite woman who worked there asked me if I was writing a novel as whenever I went to the cafe alone I would spend my time there writing. To this day that memory makes me happy. I never wrote so much in my diary as I did in Santiago. I was unhappy for the a lot of my time there and working through why that was and what I could do about it in my diary was what got me through. That, and C. and L. and cafe helados and manjar, of course. Sometimes there were French people in the cafe too as the French Embassy was about a 10 minute walk away, and I loved when French people were there because I could pretend I was in Paris. Almost all of the good memories I have of Santiago are of sitting in that cafe. Renovations had begun on the cafe just before I left, and when they finished a few months later, L. who stayed in Santiago until December (I left in early August), told me they only served to make the place feel generic. So in that respect I'm glad I never saw the renovations. I wonder if that cafe is even still there, and what it's like now. Do they still sell cafe helados? Do the same women still work there? It's a bit odd to think that it probably only exists in my memory now.

Surprisingly, (to me, anyway) I didn't really have one regular or favourite cafe in Paris. I had favourite cafes all over the city, which I liked because it meant I was usually never far from a place I wanted to go. Having a kir or a glass of wine or a beer after work was one of the most enjoyable and relaxing things I did there. The best part about cafes in Paris (and really anywhere, but I felt it especially there) was that it really made no difference if you went with another person or if you went alone. I could have a fabulous time and then head home (or wherever I was going) feeling content and satisfied whether I'd just spent a few hours talking, or writing/people watching. When L. visited me in July 2007, she wanted to go to Le Dome which was the favourite cafe of Anais Nin and Henry Miller. We spent a wonderful few hours there getting slightly drunk and taking lots of photos (see the wine glasses below). We were also fascinated with this old white hair very distinguished looking man who came in alone all dressed up in a suit with a bow tie, and immediately made himself at home with his crossword puzzle. A year later I was back in Paris and having an hour to kill before meeting a friend, I went in to Le Dome alone for a quick kir. Much to my surprise and joy, that same man was there, again working on a crossword puzzle. A lot had changed for me since I'd been at Le Dome with L. to when I was there alone, and it made me glad that some things - like that old man and his crosswords - were still the same.

When I visited J. in Buenos Aires, we spent probably half (if not more) of my visit in cafes. On 5 of the 7 days I was there, we went to this one particular cafe called Retro right by the Argentine Congress (if you're ever in Buenos Aires, go there!), for hours on end. Buenos Aires, like Paris, has a wonderful cafe culture and sitting there with J. talking, trying to do work, talking, eating these amazing croissants called medialunas which have this delicious sweet glaze and are everywhere in Buenos Aires, and talking some more was so much fun and so relaxing. It also provided a nice peek at Buenos Aires culture. I could have kept going back there every day for at least another week, if not two.

What my trip to Buenos Aires helped make clear is that I'm best at going to cafes when I am on vacation, or when my life is in a carefree, lots of free time, no pressure, no deadlines, nothing pressing phase. Though I took classes in Santiago, I didn't take that many and they weren't a lot of work, so I really did have plenty of time to wile away afternoons in the cafe. Similarly in Paris, nothing was ever so important that it couldn't wait until after I'd gone for a kir (or two...) But since I've been in Montreal, I haven't once gone to a cafe just to sit and hang out. Most of the reason for why not is that I'm very busy with school and I don't get my best work done in cafes - I find all the people/noise/atmosphere too intriguing, and thus too distracting. But, spending hours every day in cafes in Buenos Aires with J. reminded me how much I do love going to cafes, and how I should really try to make time for it in my life. I've already identified a favourite Montreal cafe called Figaro. It is on a corner, has bright big windows, and tiny little tables, and openly acknowledges that it models itself after Parisian cafes (see picture below). I try to go once or twice a month for a meal (I've been for breakfast, lunch and dinner) and I'm determined to go much more regularly, and maybe even actually try to work there in May. Once a person identifies something she likes to do, she should keep doing it. And since I know I love going to cafes, and since I've already even found my favourite cafe in Montreal, I need to start going there more.

Cups of Sugar and other Neighbour Related Things

During her second year in Berkeley, K. moved in to a house on Oregon St., just down the block from Berkeley Bowl. Little did she know when she moved in that a guy named D. lived across the street. They met, they started hanging out, they became (and remain to this day) close friends, and they are my most favourite neighbours becoming friends story. That same year, on the other side of the continent, in a city on a different ocean, L. and 6 other girls moved into the first floor and basement of a house in Halifax. In another happy neighbour story, a group of guys lived on the upper floors of the house, and of course the girls and guys all met, started hanging out, and became friends. Some years after K. and L.'s neighbours turned friends adventures, N. made friends with a downstairs neighbour because they shared a porch and started hanging out on it together. That originally struck me as a cool story... But then I had my own porch in Austin, and didn't start really using it until my next door neighbour moved out (8 months into my living there) and I finally knew I could sit out there without having to run into him! I guess some of us are better sitting on porches either alone, or when already established friends come over.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, not all neighbourly stories are as pleasant as K., D. and L's. This past fall (spring, there), J. lived in a tiny room in an apt in Buenos Aires above an angry and obnoxious neighbour. J. has lived in Austin, Texas for the last 5 years, and though she's originally from the Empire State (with an I Heart NY t-shirt to prove it) she's become something of a Texas girl, with cowboy boots to prove it. In winter, spring, summer and fall, J. loves to wear those cowboy boots. Her downstairs neighbour, an old lady, didn't like them. So persistently, every night, she banged on her ceiling / J.'s floor, yelling obscenities in Spanish to J. and her boots.

Now fortunately, I've never had as mean a neighbour as J. But nor have I ever become friends with a neighbour either! When I moved in to the Hilgard apt in Berkeley, I was already friends with some guys who lived across the street. One time that spring, T. even had to come over and use my shower because he had a date and his shower was not working! I did feel pretty neighbourly letting him shower, which was nice. It was also wonderful when I lived on Ridge Road and N. lived down the street and L. lived right around the corner. But again, those were all pre-established friends. Excluding those situations, with one notable exception which will be detailed below and which only kind of counts as a cool neighbour story, most of my neighbours have been average or below, and either non-memorable or only memorable in a bad way (like for being weird and slightly creepy for example). My current neighbours - a girlfriend and boyfriend - with whom I share a small stairway, and a landing, and one fairly long wall, and a back fire escape which neither they nor I seem to use, are just kind of annoying. It's not that they do anything really bad, except constantly leave the stairwell light on after they've either gone out or are back inside their apt, but overall they just seem pretty uninteresting, and definitely not friend material.

So my only cool neighbour story comes from the six months I lived in Paris in 2007. I didn't know any of my neighbours who lived in my actual building, although I would always say hi whenever I saw anyone on the stairs. But, because my street - rue des Batignolles - was quite narrow, I could easily see into numerous apts across from the road from mine. And, because that lovely apt was a corner apt, I could see into other apts in two separate buildings in two separate directions. (Slightly related story: there was a window behind the kitchen sink in my Hilgard apt so I had a really great and direct view into this guy's (I was convinced he was a grad student writing his dissertation because he was always at his computer) apt. That is, I had a really great and direct view for the month of September, until, somewhere around the beginning of October, he must have become aware of (and uncomfortable with) my presence and began pulling down the blind whenever I came into my kitchen. One time I actually saw him do it - he just reached behind him and pulled the curtain cord without even taking his eyes off his computer screen. It bummed me out a little, but mostly I was just disappointed I only had his covered window (although sometimes I could make out a silhouette) to stare at while I did the dishes.) Unlike that guy in Berkeley, most of my Parisian neighbours rarely shut either their curtains or their shutters. I never once shut my shutters the entire time I lived there, although my roommate did at night to make her room darker. During the winter, she closed the living room curtains at night to keep the cold out, but once it got warmer we usually left the curtains open all the time. As for my bedroom, I only closed the curtains at night, and often on weekend mornings I would wake up, climb out of bed to pull back the curtains, and then get back into bed and read or go online and enjoy the natural light coming in.

Of all the neighbours who I regularly saw in their windows (and there were quite a few) my favourite was this old man (maybe in his late 70s/early 80s? so quite old) who was a fairly permanent fixture at his window. He lived directly across from my apt and one floor up (he was the third floor and I was the second). I saw him looking out all the time, and liked to think he was the self-appointed neighbourhood watchman. Sometimes we'd both be looking out at the same time and though I felt too shy to wave, I always hoped he'd wave to me. But alas, he only acknowledged my presence once. So April of that year was my favourite April ever (which is saying a lot, because until I was 18, April was my favourite month... it was then surpassed by June, but now I don't really have one, which isn't good because I like having favourite things, but I digress...). The weather that month had to be the most perfect weather ever. I'm pretty sure I remember reading in the newspaper and hearing from other people there that the weather was setting record highs for April. It was in the mid-20s and sunny and perfect for almost 3 weeks in a row. Everyone was in a good mood, the outdoor cafes were packed, on the weekends I went to the park and tanned, along with hundreds of other people, it was lovely. One weekday evening, right at the beginning of the heat wave, I was home alone in my apt with all the windows flung open to help with the heat, when a bunch of flies bugs flew in. I stood in the middle of the room, clapping (trying to frighten them out) and shouting "Get out" to them in English, when I noticed the old man from across the way, looking right at me and laughing. I'd like to say I smiled or waved at him, but instead I felt really embarrassed and quickly ran into the kitchen to escape. Sometimes I wonder about him, is he still alive? is he still keep rue des Batignolles up to its high standards? I hope so.

To conclude, I hope I do make friends with a neighbour one day. My ideal would be to find/have a K. and D. situation, but interestingly, K. hasn't made friends with any neighbours since then... So maybe it's a one time thing for everyone? Here's to hoping I eventually get mine!

The Delights of Dulce de Leche

Without a single doubt, the best thing about Chile (but only one of the best things about Argentina, since for that country there are many wonderful things!) is the manjar, called dulce de leche in Argentina, (and I think the rest of the world). It has the same colour as caramel or butterscotch, but it is infinitely infinitely better - better taste, better texture, better richness, and I could go on. I'm lucky that grocery stores (Loblaws in Toronto, Provigo in Montreal) carry it, because it allows me to still have it even when I'm not in South America. The first time I found it at Loblaws, I brought it home and before I had even put it in the cupboard I found myself eating it by the spoonful directly from the jar. After about 4 very big spoonfuls, I managed to put it away. But it was hard!

In Chile and Argentina, desserts (pastries, ice cream) are everywhere, which must be why I came back about fifteen pounds heavier after I studied abroad in Santiago. My sweet toothness goes back a long way. Dulce de leche/manjar features prominently in most pastries sold at bakeries. Within the first few weeks of my six month stay in Santiago I discovered manjar, and then proceeded to spend the following five and a half months eating entirely too much of it. My absolute favourite were mendocinos (called alfajores in Argentina – see picture below, sometimes they put powdered sugar on the outside) which is a two layed cookie with a lot of dulce de leche in the middle. This little café I went to all the time had both big ones and tiny little bite sized ones (called Mendocino chicos, in Argentina called alfajorcitos - also a picture below), of which I used to eat on average four a day telling myself that since they were so small, they really weren’t that bad. At the end of many a long day (or sometimes in the middle of the day) I’d stop on my way home for a little mendocino treat. I may have felt like I didn’t belong in Santiago, and I may have spent far more unhappy days than happy ones there, but when it came to a love of desserts and manjar, I fit right in.

Buenos Aires has the best ice cream of any other city I've ever been to (it also must have one of the highest percentages of ice cream shops per capita of any city in the world), and the main reason I believe that is because of the dulce de leche ice cream. Haagen Dazs also makes a dulce de leche ice cream which consists of a light coloured dulce de leche base with swirls of real dulce de leche mixed in. It's very good, but it doesn't come close to the dulce de leche ice cream in Buenos Aires. For starters, there's the colour. The Buenos Aires dulce de leche is a darker colour (a mix of tan and brown) than the Haagen Dazs, and the colour alone is enough to tell that the ice cream’s flavour is just pouring out. The ice cream is also very rich, but not an overwhelming or too rich rich, instead, it has a richness that is just right. It’s perfectly balanced, and perfectly delicious, and makes a person want to have ice cream every day.

Though I do miss the authentic dulce de leche filled pastries and ice cream of Argentina, fortunately, I have been able to find ways to eat dulce de leche back in North America which do not involve a spoon and a jar. Last year, I began mixing dulce de leche into my buttercream cupcake icing to great success. And for my most recent birthday, I had a dessert party at my apt where by far the most popular dessert I served was a homemade dulce de leche cheesecake. Happily, everyone really enjoyed it and it was the only dessert I didn't have any left overs of (much to my chagrin...) I'm glad it was such a success, and I'm also pleased to have found another way to eat dulce de leche.

Just before I left Berkeley for good, I had a dinner party on the summer solstice at my Hilgard apt where I served (what else??) spaghetti and wine. L. brought dessert and surprised me by baking these wonderful afajores. They were delicious, and such a treat! That was before I really got into baking myself (or rather expanded my baking beyond cake mixes) and writing this has reminded me that I should really either ask L. for the recipe, or search for one online myself. I may not be able to indulge in Argentine alfajores whenever I want, but I can at least try my best to make my own version, and to bring a little bit more dulce de leche into my life.

To Eat In or To Eat Out...

My love of take out food goes way back. During high school on the nights my parents both worked late, they'd leave me money to order pizza, or get Thai food from the little place near our house, or whatever other take out I felt like getting. Looking back now, I realize it never occurred to any of us that I should actually cook something for myself, with some left over for them too when they got home :)

Once I moved to Berkeley, and, after my first year was out of the dorms and in an apt, my cooking forays were very basic: spaghetti and other kinds of pasta, and very occasionally pesto pizza (but on store-bought flat bread). Although, I had had high hopes for my first year living in an apt. Over that summer, L. and I went to this book store near her house in the Beaches and both bought a "How to Cook Everything" cookbook, which I unfortunately lost sometime that year, needless to say before I could cook anything out of it. So other than making spaghetti in Berkeley, I ate out. But luckily, Berkeley had really great places to eat. I wasn't eating gross, unhealthy fast food, I was eating giant salads (yeah Veggie Delight, A. and I's favourite!) at Intermezzo, good Mexican food with the best strawberry juice in the world at Cancun, really great Thai food at Cha Am, gourmet pizza at Cheeseboard, not so gourmet (but still appealing) pizza at Fat Slice, daal or chicken tikka masala and lots of naan (sometimes plain, sometimes aloo) at Naan 'n' Curry, the best aloo gobi at Tandor Kitchen, middle eastern food at La Mediterranee, California rolls at Party Sushi, and the list could go on and on. I often went to these places with friends, or I'd call ahead to order, then go pick it up and bring it back to my apt, or I occasionally ate at the place alone (an art I later perfected in Paris in the winter/spring of 2007). All in all, my eating adventures were really fun! And most importantly, I went to different neighbourhoods, and got to know Berkeley better.

I also very much enjoyed the culinary offerings of Paris when I lived there. Though I probably made my faithful spaghetti a few times a week, I would often just bring home a baguette (or a half baguette depending on how hungry I was) from one of the 3 bakeries on my street, and some comte cheese from the little cheese shop across the street and eat that. Or often I'd get an individual size quiche. They also have a lot of great little Lebanese places in Paris, so I would get falafel sandwiches a lot. I also regularly frequented crepe stands to either get my favourite nutella crepes or, ham and cheese if I wanted a more savoury meal. And of course I ate lemon tarts and chocolate croissants on a multiple times per week basis. And then, as I wrote above, I really perfected going to cafes alone, ordering a salad (most cafes in Paris have decent/good salads) and a kir, and writing letters, or in my diary, or just staring off into space (or discreetly at other people). I went all over Paris eating, and could probably a name a cafe or crepe stand to visit in almost all of the city's 20 arrondissements. In many ways, those days eating (and of course doing other things) in Paris were perfect...

Then suddenly in the fall of 2008, I decided I wanted to cook. Prior to really starting to cook, as I've made clear above, pasta (mostly penne, sometimes rigatoni) and always spaghetti, were the only things I ever made. I've always enjoyed having people over for dinner, but until I was 24, I could only ever serve them one thing: spaghetti. And I got tired of, and embarrassed with, the way I would always almost brag to other people that that was the only thing I could cook. I started fairly slow, but have gradually built up my repertoire of dishes. This past fall especially I got more daring and made many new recipes for the first time, usually to a fair amount of success. All in all, I'm really happy to be regularly cooking and trying out new recipes. It's a lot of fun and gives me a good sense of satisfaction. And I now feel quite confident as a cook, and have hosted many dinner parties with a variety of dishes that are not spaghetti! (Although spaghetti is, and always be, my ultimate favourite food, along with raspberries).

My developing cooking skills and repertoire aside, I firmly believe that a person can really get to know a place through eating out, and consequently I feel like I know Montreal way less than I would if I ate out more. And that's a bit disappointing. Since I came back here after the winter break I have made a point of trying to eat out a bit more, but so far I haven't really succeeded. Although I have been to several new bakeries and have tried their delicious breads, almond, and chocolate croissants. But, I'm still lacking on the restaurant front. When walking to the post office or the grocery store or anywhere really, I always see lots of cute restaurants and cafes which I want to try. My Berkeley/Paris self was the Queen of making sure I tried every restaurant or cafe that caught my eye. I need to get that aspect of myself back clearly! Most people make resolutions to eat out less, but mine is to actually eat out more. I think the key will really be to finding a good balance, and hopefully I can do that in the months ahead, especially once it gets warmer and leaving my apt is more appealing.

Delicious still, but Nutritious no longer!

I have liked Vitamin Water since I was first introduced to it in September 2006. My GRE tutor (I was taking the GRE that October) loved them and thought I needed to try them too! For my first ever taste, she decided I should try the Power-C (called Mega-C in Canada) bright pink one. The actual flavour is Dragonfruit (see picture below) which I don't think I'd even heard of until then. Now I hope I'll one day be able to taste it (apparently they're available throughout Central America) to determine if I like the fruit more, less, or the same as the drink. I sometimes wonder what would have happened had the tutor chosen a different one to give me, as I have become a die-hard Power/Mega-C fan and worry that had she first given me one of the boring yellow or orange ones I would never have tried Vitamin Water again. I've dabbled in a few other flavours, Focus - the light pink one (strawberry & kiwi flavour) which is too sweet for me, Defense (apple & raspberry flavour - both fruits I like but the taste is not good) and S.'s favourite XXX (acai, blueberry & pomegranate), which is pretty good and which I will drink if need be; but ultimately nothing rivals Mega-C for my affection.

I have to admit I've always been pretty smug about the fact that I don't like Coke, or pop in general (although I did enjoy taking the Coke Pepsi Challenge when I was a little kid, mostly because it was fun to a. see which one I preferred (I always picked Pepsi) and b. to get the prizes (usually gum!) they gave out). It's embarrassing, but it definitely made me feel pretty good about myself that I didn't regularly ingest sugary, wasteful calorie filled drinks. My little smug bubble, however, came crashing down recently when I read an article about how Vitamin Water actually has a lot of sugar, and is not that much better than Coke or other similar drinks. Sure, it has some vitamins (in my case, C and B) but it's also not just, as the label boasts "Vitamins + Water". It's not that I ever really equated it with water, but reading that it's the equivalent of Gatorade (a beverage I find pretty gross) disappointed me. Just recently, the Advertising watchdog Agency in the UK told Vitamin Water it is no longer allowed to use the slogan "Delicious and Nutritious" (which was only used in the UK) because the nutritious part is simply not true. There has been a similar case going on in the US as well.

My burst bubble aside, these developments actually just made me realize that I wasn't ever drinking Vitamin Water for any purported nutritional value. Maybe I wasn't aware it had a lot of sugar, but I was not under the impression that it was super healthy for me either. I just like the taste and it's a good way to keep hydrated every day. Recently I had a conversation with J. about how North Americans are obsessed with drinking lots of water and always staying hydrated. I have to agree. My first few years at Berkeley I was astounded at how many people I knew/saw who brought their Nalgene bottles with them everywhere - to class, to the library, for walks, to the movies. Fast forward a few years, and I had (and have) one too, and drink from it every day (although I really only bring it to school). I have definitely embraced this hydration culture, and I think Vitamin Water is just a part of it. People have decided they need to be drinking fluids all the time, and Vitamin Water is just another option. I do fill up my Nalgene with regular water every day, but it's nice to also have another non-water beverage every day.

In closing, I will say that Vitamin Waters are the absolute best drinks for long car rides, bar none. When S. and I drove from Austin to LA, and then from Austin to Nashville the next year, I always liked stopping in little towns in the middle of nowhere along the highway and buying a Vitamin water. It may not have been nutritious, but it was delicious, and it definitely brightened up the long hours on the road.

The Wonderful World of Podcasts

A. sent me an email a few weeks ago saying that he was a bit late to the game but had recently discovered podcasts and thought I'd like them too, if I didn't subscribe to some already. I wrote back saying I had come fairly late to the game too, and that he was right - I did/do love them!

My love of podcasts is tied to my love of the subject matter of the podcasts I subscribe to. For a very long time, until really only this past fall, I had no idea there was a whole world of interesting podcasts out there, just waiting for me to discover! It all started just under a year and a half ago when (a different) A. told me that I needed to subscribe to the 'This American Life' podcast since she was sure I'd love it. She was right. Learning about/listening to/reading other people's stories and finding out about other people's lives have long been some of my favourite things, and 'This American Life' combines all that in one perfect podcast hour.

Almost all of the podcasts I currently subscribe to are connected to each other. The 'This American Life' podcast led to me 'The Moth' podcast (where people tell true stories to a live audience, without notes) as they sometimes featured Moth speakers. 'The Moth' podcast is great because, as I said above personal stories are the best, and also because it's usually about 17 minutes long, which makes listening to it all in one go much easier than with hour long podcasts. In November I was telling L. about 'The Moth', and she in turn introduced me to the 'Story Corps' podcast, which is where regular people record themselves having a 1 minute conversation and then submit it to 'Story Corps'. This is a great podcast to subscribe to if you don't have much time because they're super short, but also usually quite poignant and thought-provoking.

Early last fall I decided to search for podcasts about history, another interest of mine. Some googling brought up the BBC History Magazine's podcast, which I promptly subscribed to and now enjoy. It's only once a month, which seems just right, and features interviews with historians who have published articles in that month's edition of the magazine. The topics are a good mix of recent & much older history. For example, one episode (I think October's?) had a feature on Mussolini's mistress whose diaries have recently been released. Another featured an interview about an English Queen from the 1500 or 1600s, which reminded me a bit of a Philippa Gregory book. The 'BBC History Magazine' podcast also led me, from their December episode where they had a special, short feature on it, to subscribe to the BBC's 'Witness' - a podcast released by the BBC World Service. 'Witness' is one of my favourite podcasts! Each day, there is a new episode which contains an interview with a living person who 'witnessed' an actual event in (usually fairly recent) world history. A few times they've broken with this and just interviewed a historian who did not actually witness the event his/herself, but usually they are from real events that took place over the last 50 years. The one I listened to today was actually an interview with the founder of Wikipedia, in honour of the 10th anniversary of the founding of Wikipedia in January 2001. There have also been super interesting ones on the Taliban, on the Iraq War, on the US invasion of Panama in 1989, and all sorts of other things. Since my time at Berkeley I have been really into oral history, and I love having the opportunity to now get a daily dose of it on fascinating topics!

The last two podcasts I subscribe to are also connected. My homepage on Firefox is the BBC International News and one Sunday in November one of the featured articles was a column I'd never noticed before called 'From Our Own Correspondent' which consisted of a series of vignettes written by BBC foreign correspondents stationed all over the world. The bottom of the article mentioned the podcast which I then subscribed to, and now like listening to every week. It's really cool because I love travelling and hearing about what life is like in other places and this podcast does exactly that! After of a few episodes of this though, it occurred to me that there must be a Canadian equivalent. So I searched CBC (kind of like a Canadian NPR) and found 'Dispatches'. It's also excellent - subtly different from the BBC show in that the host has more of a role, and often interviews historians/economists etc, which the BBC one doesn't do. In any event, it, like the BBC one, provides great stories/events/insights on things happening around the world.

The thing about podcasts are that there are just so many (an endless amount really) to choose from. The ones A. just recently discovered are ones I don't subscribe to, and other friends subscribe to other ones that sound equally good but right now I feel like I'm good with the seven I have. I'm sure I will eventually start subscribing to more in the future though because I really adore podcasts. They make things so easy, since though there's technically nothing stopping me from listening to 'Dispatches' on my own radio it's just much simpler to listen when I want, instead of at the exact time it's being aired on the radio. Plus, I don't get 'This American Life' or
'The Moth' or the BBC programs on the radio in Montreal. Additionally, thanks to my ipod, all my podcasts are transportable! My daily walks to and from school have this past fall become times where I'm transported to other people's lives in far flung countries of the earth. Listening to Witness, in particular, on my walk every morning is a great and, cheesy as it sounds, enriching way to start the day.

It's the year 2010 (but not for long!)

One morning in early December 2003 I woke up extremely relieved and glad to discover that it was in fact still 2003. I had just had a dream in which it was already 2004, and in my dream I was so sad because I had loved 2003 (particularly its fall) so much and I didn't want it to be over yet. December is an odd month in that way - it's usually a lot of fun and a good way to end the year; but it's also bittersweet because the year is ending, and even if there's lots to look forward to in the new year, it can still be sad saying goodbye.

I like songs that mention dates; that set themselves squarely in a certain period, such that whenever you listen to that song later you're taken back. The best two examples I can think of are Mariah Carey's Cruise Control which starts with Damian Marley (who was featured on that song) saying "2008...Watch It!" and then Mariah comes in. I love that because whenever I listen to that song now (or have listened to it since it came out) I always think about a. the first time I ever heard it in A.'s old apt in Kansas City in April 2008 and b. all those times that April and May I repeatedly listened to it. On their latest cd which they released in May 2010, Broken Social Scene has a song called "Water in Hell" which contains the line "It's the year 2010" - which I also love. It's so perfect right now... but in just a few days it won't apply anymore! Though it will still be cool to listen to it in years to come and look back nostalgically on 2010.

Though I usually spend a fair bit of time throughout the month of December thinking about the year ahead, I haven't had plans on New Year's Eve since I was 18 - 8 years ago! I like staying home, which is probably why one of my favourite scenes in the L-Word was from an episode in Season 5 when the power went out in LA causing Bette and Tina to get stuck in an elevator en route to their therapist's office. Stranded (at least for a little while) they proceed to sit facing each other, both leaning against opposite walls of the elevator, and discuss why they are good together and what their relationship would be like if they got back together. One of the points Tina makes is that they both like staying home on New Year's Eve. I loved that point! It's not that I don't think a relationship could work if one person loves partying on New Year's and the other likes staying home, but I do think it's easier if both people agree!

I cared a lot (read too much) about New Year's Eve in high school, and always had to be going to a party or doing something with friends because I felt like such a loser if I didn't. A guy at my high school, A.S.R. always went to the movies on New Year's Eve with his mom and her friend. However, they could never agree on which movie to go see, so each of them went to their own, all starting around the same time so they could arrive and leave the theater together. Even though I thought that was super cool, I still felt the urgent need to be doing something with friends. Happily, I now no longer care if other people think I'm a loser (and fortunately, I know they don't) and so I do what I like best and stay home. I'm not sure exactly why I don't like going out on New Year's though since I love champagne and like fireworks - two essential components of the evening. It's also not that I don't like socializing. I enjoy having or attending dinner parties or bigger parties for that matter. Maybe, and I think this is probably the best explanation, it's the hype that surrounds the evening. There seems to be a lot of pressure to have a good time. It's not just a regular party or evening out, it's New Year's Eve !!!! (the exclamation marks are essential!) and everyone must have a fabulous time, or else, it is implied, the year is off to a bad start. All that said, if all my best friends happened to be in the same place on New Year's Eve, of course I'd want to get together with them and of course I'd stay awake until midnight. But when I'm just at home or on vacation with my parents, I like having a glass of champagne with dinner, another with dessert, and then getting into bed with my book, going to sleep in one year and waking up in another.