The Netherlands has accepted our residence applications, so I can stop worrying about those one-way plane tickets or the non-refundable Airbnb sublet. It’s official: I’m moving to a place I’ve never been before and where I don’t know anyone, and I am so, so excited.
King of States! presents: a cautionary tale.
When I got home from the gym this evening, there was a package waiting for me. I thought, “Ah! My new pair of yoga pants* and that orange shirt with the big number ‘5’ on it. Huzzah!” (I think “Huzzah!” a lot.)
I recently spent several days getting extremely lost and eating many kebabs in Istanbul.
Istanbul can be an overwhelming city, so I thought I’d share a key travel tip for those of you planning a visit: be sure to choose a travel partner who looks like a famous actor who currently plays Süleyman the Magnificent on a popular Turkish soap opera.
The travel app I downloaded for the trip to Asia I just began offers translations for phrases of questionable utility, like “You seem confident!” and “Is there a lawyer who speaks English?” In my morning Vietnamese practice sessions — I’ve named the fish who live in the water feature on my balcony for the numbers one through eight, and use them to run through basic math in Vietnamese each morning — I’ve not revisited either of these sentences.
My craw is unusually full this week. Do they make craw extenders?
I bet SkyMall sells them. Hand-hammered copper or prismatic titanium; your choice, only $119.99! Never suffer the discomfort of a bloated craw again!
I realize there’s been a lack of curmudgeonliness emanating from this corner of the internet. it’s because I’ve been in Montreal since late June, pretending to be Canadian, and enjoying jazz and their ability to perfectly cook a duck breast.
I took some pictures. They’re over here. You can look if you want.
(I’m back in the States now, and find that my natural curmudgeonly state has reasserted itself undiminished.)
Spain, that is. I think I could live here, as long as there is no crippling Jamon de Serrano shortage.
Below, some shots of the Alhambra. I could live there as well, but that probably conflicts with the whole UNESCO World Heritage Site thing. Those Moors were no joke, I tell you what.
I have been to IKEA a great many times, and the most exciting thing that ever happens is when I get to the concession stand just as new cinnamon buns are coming out of the oven. Meanwhile, in Toronto, a fucking monkey in a posh winter coat was found alone wandering the Ikea.