I have come to believe that ginger can heal just about anything. It lifts my mood, calms my stomach and now it cures a sore throat.
I woke up yesterday with a sore throat but didn't do much about it. Today I woke up barely able to swallow, and certainly not without cringing. I've been drinking tea and honey all day which helped a little but out of curiosity I diced up some ginger and plopped it in some boiling water and sipped on that, it felt better. After the tea was finished, again just out of curiosity, I chewed on a couple of those bits of ginger and let the juice settle on the back of my throat where the pain is coming from. Wouldn't you know it in about 20 seconds my throat feels better than it has all day. Even better than the aspirin I had this morning. I am just floored and wanted to share.
Though I'll caution anyone who is also curious, I've been eating ginger for years and have a taste for it, it is way to spicy for some people so don't just go gnawing away on a ginger root.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Sunday, February 15, 2009
To Paris and back in 24 hours
So I got back from Paris around 7 pm today. I know, how cheesy is that, to be in Paris for Valentine's Day?! I assure you all it was a complete accident.
Myriam wanted to go to Paris on Friday night to see a concert. Saul Williams was playing at what turned out to be a reasonably small venue in one of the suburbs of Paris. Tickets were affordable enough, so I decided to go with her. Quell sera, sera! As you guys have read, this is now my third trip to Paris.
We took the bus for a change which worked out nicely. It took significantly longer, but it was half the price of even the cheapest train tickets on Thalys (the high speed train), so no one was complaining. But the ride was fun enough with Myriam's company. We talked mostly about a book of hers I'm reading right now on the way to Paris (it is called Cunt by Inga Muscio, I'd recommend it to just about anyone. In fact, I would even buy you a copy and mail it to you. It's a quick read, light on theory but heavy on emotion and opinion). On the way back Myriam handed me my ass well and thoroughly kicked in a game of Rummy.
So we got to Paris in the afternoon on Friday, just about the time kitchens were closing to prep for dinner. We walked around for a while but never found a suitable place for lunch. We had some odds and ends from a refrigerator case at one deli and called it a meal. Then we promptly walked across the street to and English pub called The Cricketer. Sat down and had a couple of pints before booking it for the concert.
The first band was Anthony Joseph and the Spasm Band. They played for the better part of an hour and got the audience tapping their feet some even danced in the aisle. They had a afro-carribo-jazz sound full of energy.
If you look closely- the woman in the crowd wearing a white sleeved shirt under a black tank top dancing like no body is watching is Myriam. Wee!
Followed by Saul Williams, I wish I had a clip for you but alas you'll have to look him up on youtube or saulwilliams.com I personally preferred his spoken word over his songs, but they were really good nonetheless.
The show let out around midnight and we headed back into the city to meet our Couch Surfing host. Pierre met us in the tiny little bar packed shoulder to shoulder with more quirk in one corner than I've seen in entire pubs before. It was nice to get off the Parisian beaten path for once. We stayed there until we were quite abruptly kicked out. I had to giggle at the experience, one minute we were chatting away in this dark noisy little place the next minute the proprietor flicked the lights on full bright and told us to get out in no uncertain terms. Not mean, just curt. No last call, no warning, just...get out. We wandered around a bit deciding if we were going to stay out or go home. In the end we decided to go home and have a few beers there. Pierre's apartment was tiny with an even smaller bed loft. We found out that we were in fact to be 6 sleeping there. Haha! He had 3 mattresses laid out in the loft and the couch downstairs. I ended up taking the couch around 5:30 am. Got about 4 hours of sleep and laid awake for a while until it was time to get up and pack to leave. Our return bus left at 1:30 which meant we needed to check in before 1.
We skipped breakfast and coffee to be on our way because I suspected the metro ride to the bus station was going to take about an hour. We made a pit stop at a convenience store and picked up some cookies and chips for the road. After we checked in at the bus station, we had a bit of time to kill so we ventured around the corner for a cappuccino and a croissant. That's pretty much all of my tale.
We did end up grabbing some rolls and cheese in the rest stop the bus stopped at en route for a bit of proper food. Topped the sandwiches off with tabbouleh and carrot salad, for lack of other condiments, that was a pretty descent sam'ich. Just in case you were wondering.
Myriam wanted to go to Paris on Friday night to see a concert. Saul Williams was playing at what turned out to be a reasonably small venue in one of the suburbs of Paris. Tickets were affordable enough, so I decided to go with her. Quell sera, sera! As you guys have read, this is now my third trip to Paris.
We took the bus for a change which worked out nicely. It took significantly longer, but it was half the price of even the cheapest train tickets on Thalys (the high speed train), so no one was complaining. But the ride was fun enough with Myriam's company. We talked mostly about a book of hers I'm reading right now on the way to Paris (it is called Cunt by Inga Muscio, I'd recommend it to just about anyone. In fact, I would even buy you a copy and mail it to you. It's a quick read, light on theory but heavy on emotion and opinion). On the way back Myriam handed me my ass well and thoroughly kicked in a game of Rummy. So we got to Paris in the afternoon on Friday, just about the time kitchens were closing to prep for dinner. We walked around for a while but never found a suitable place for lunch. We had some odds and ends from a refrigerator case at one deli and called it a meal. Then we promptly walked across the street to and English pub called The Cricketer. Sat down and had a couple of pints before booking it for the concert.
The first band was Anthony Joseph and the Spasm Band. They played for the better part of an hour and got the audience tapping their feet some even danced in the aisle. They had a afro-carribo-jazz sound full of energy.
If you look closely- the woman in the crowd wearing a white sleeved shirt under a black tank top dancing like no body is watching is Myriam. Wee!
Followed by Saul Williams, I wish I had a clip for you but alas you'll have to look him up on youtube or saulwilliams.com I personally preferred his spoken word over his songs, but they were really good nonetheless.
The show let out around midnight and we headed back into the city to meet our Couch Surfing host. Pierre met us in the tiny little bar packed shoulder to shoulder with more quirk in one corner than I've seen in entire pubs before. It was nice to get off the Parisian beaten path for once. We stayed there until we were quite abruptly kicked out. I had to giggle at the experience, one minute we were chatting away in this dark noisy little place the next minute the proprietor flicked the lights on full bright and told us to get out in no uncertain terms. Not mean, just curt. No last call, no warning, just...get out. We wandered around a bit deciding if we were going to stay out or go home. In the end we decided to go home and have a few beers there. Pierre's apartment was tiny with an even smaller bed loft. We found out that we were in fact to be 6 sleeping there. Haha! He had 3 mattresses laid out in the loft and the couch downstairs. I ended up taking the couch around 5:30 am. Got about 4 hours of sleep and laid awake for a while until it was time to get up and pack to leave. Our return bus left at 1:30 which meant we needed to check in before 1.
We skipped breakfast and coffee to be on our way because I suspected the metro ride to the bus station was going to take about an hour. We made a pit stop at a convenience store and picked up some cookies and chips for the road. After we checked in at the bus station, we had a bit of time to kill so we ventured around the corner for a cappuccino and a croissant. That's pretty much all of my tale.
We did end up grabbing some rolls and cheese in the rest stop the bus stopped at en route for a bit of proper food. Topped the sandwiches off with tabbouleh and carrot salad, for lack of other condiments, that was a pretty descent sam'ich. Just in case you were wondering.
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Fountain Pen tradition
So in Europe, when kids are learning to write, they get to graduate writing instruments. From pencil to pen and then to fountain pen they move as their writing becomes tidier.
Today Matthieu got a note from his teacher that said he was allowed to start using a fountain pen! I was super excited when I read this because, as all of you probably know, I'm a fan of the stylo-plume (french name for a fountain pen).
I ran upstairs and grabbed my old blue Parker, which is one of my favorites for everyday kind of stuff. It is an inexpensive one but writes clearly with a really smooth nib in all directions. I had cleaned it out earlier today for storage because I'm not using it so much anymore now that I have newer better pens. I was so pleased I happened to have a cartridge of ink lying around too. Normally I use a converter to draw ink from a large pot. It's cheaper and makes far less waste, but the potential for mess is too much for a 6 year old.
Anyway, I brought it down and asked Valerie if it was alright if I gave him one of mine. She said that would be fine as long as it was one that I don't use anymore. So I gave it to Matthieu and showed him how to insert the cartridge and put it back together.
I was super excited because it just so happens that a blue Parker was the first fountain pen I ever owned. Mr. V, my fourth grade English teacher gave it to me. Of course I mangled the nib back then and it never wrote again, but I hung on to the non-functional thing for ages until I could figure out what brand it was so I could replace it. That was hard work because I'd never tried tracking down a pen model before...I didn't even know there were models.
So the pen was ready to go and Mathtieu got some paper out to try it. He scribbled a bit, and I was holding my breath, he set it down and I looked to see what he thought of the fancy new pen. All he says is...
"I don't want that one."
Today Matthieu got a note from his teacher that said he was allowed to start using a fountain pen! I was super excited when I read this because, as all of you probably know, I'm a fan of the stylo-plume (french name for a fountain pen).
I ran upstairs and grabbed my old blue Parker, which is one of my favorites for everyday kind of stuff. It is an inexpensive one but writes clearly with a really smooth nib in all directions. I had cleaned it out earlier today for storage because I'm not using it so much anymore now that I have newer better pens. I was so pleased I happened to have a cartridge of ink lying around too. Normally I use a converter to draw ink from a large pot. It's cheaper and makes far less waste, but the potential for mess is too much for a 6 year old.
Anyway, I brought it down and asked Valerie if it was alright if I gave him one of mine. She said that would be fine as long as it was one that I don't use anymore. So I gave it to Matthieu and showed him how to insert the cartridge and put it back together.
I was super excited because it just so happens that a blue Parker was the first fountain pen I ever owned. Mr. V, my fourth grade English teacher gave it to me. Of course I mangled the nib back then and it never wrote again, but I hung on to the non-functional thing for ages until I could figure out what brand it was so I could replace it. That was hard work because I'd never tried tracking down a pen model before...I didn't even know there were models.
So the pen was ready to go and Mathtieu got some paper out to try it. He scribbled a bit, and I was holding my breath, he set it down and I looked to see what he thought of the fancy new pen. All he says is...
"I don't want that one."
Monday, February 2, 2009
Paris: parte deux
We took the Thalys train to Paris and met John at our hotel in north west area of Paris. It was getting late so we dropped our bags in the rooms and set out to find a few drinks. We found a quaint little wine bar a couple of black away and we split a bottle or red and a bottle of rose. I'm not generally a wine drinker, but hey, when in France...
The next day we slept in until 9:30 or so and Kelly, Gudrun and myself ate a late breakfast in the hotel. John was tired so he slept while we ate. We brought him back some coffee though. (Kelly mentioned that we wanted to take a cup of coffee upstairs for our uncle and by the time we finished with out breakfast there was a whole pot of coffee on a tray with every sort of bread and jam/honey/marmalade they had) We took an easy schedule and when everyone was ready to leave we ambled towards the Arc du Triomphe. Specifically, we went to watch the traffic go round and round the round-about there. I've been told that there is no fault in an accident there. Drivers are equally accountable and damages split 50/50 because this particular spot is complete anarchy. There's room for 5 or 6 car widths to circle easily, but there are no lines laid down and no apparent rules for merging or exiting. Every man for himself. They really should install cameras and broadcast it at some sort of extreme sport.
Next stop was the Eiffel tower making a few side tracks along the Champs-Elysee for coffee and shopping. There were something around 668 steps to the second platform of the tower and a lift to the top. Taking a long rest on the first level and a short rest on the stairs (there were few people climbing the stairs that day so it was no trouble to stop) we climbed every one of those. It was cold and windy but the view was worth it and because of it the crowds were pretty thin. The third level, the one that is enclosed by glass, was obviously a bit busier but not bothersome. There were signs all around you labeled with city names accompanied by the distance from that spot to that city. I doubt that I'd ever be inclined to climb it again, but it is definitely worth doing once for sure.
We had dinner at a cute little French restaurant by Saint Michels. Of note there was the french onion soup. It was quite amazing (though I should tell you all that I've never come across a bowl of french onion soup I didn't fall in love with).
On Sunday I slept in while everyone else went to breakfast and we left somewhere around 11ish. John was interested in tracking down an antiques shop and then the plan was to go to the Picasso Museum. While I was looking in the tour book (for lack of better resources) for an antique dealer, I happened upon a listing for the world's largest flea market. Well who could resist that? We immediately scraped the museum plan and decided to spend the whole day at the flea market. We stopped at an Italian restaurant in the area there where I had the best pizza. It was a plain white pizza with fresh rocket leaves piled high. The contrast of the hot chewy pizza with the cool crunchy greens was awesome. The market was on the far north side of the city, quite out of the way. It is tough to describe quickly and in detail so suffice it to say I had a blast.
After we walked around a bit looking for a fancy place to have a cocktail. We found the Hotel du Louvre had a lovely lounge so relaxed there for a bit. I tried my very first Rob Roy there. It is, as far as I know, a bit old fashioned but I quite liked it. Made me feel fancy! Hehe
Well, check the date on this post and you'll see that this Sunday just happened to be Superbowl Sunday so we all went back to the hotel for a nap, had dinner at this great little cous cous restaurant down the street from our hotel around 10 and were back to the hotel before kick-off at 12:30. We opened the Belgian beers I had brought with me and watched the Superbowl in the hotel. John explained beforehand all the rules of American football to Gudrun who was super excited to watch her first American football game. I must admit I went to sleep early in the game but they watched the entire thing drinking (what Kelly dubbed wussy) Belgian beers and listening to the announcers in French.
The next day we slept in until 9:30 or so and Kelly, Gudrun and myself ate a late breakfast in the hotel. John was tired so he slept while we ate. We brought him back some coffee though. (Kelly mentioned that we wanted to take a cup of coffee upstairs for our uncle and by the time we finished with out breakfast there was a whole pot of coffee on a tray with every sort of bread and jam/honey/marmalade they had) We took an easy schedule and when everyone was ready to leave we ambled towards the Arc du Triomphe. Specifically, we went to watch the traffic go round and round the round-about there. I've been told that there is no fault in an accident there. Drivers are equally accountable and damages split 50/50 because this particular spot is complete anarchy. There's room for 5 or 6 car widths to circle easily, but there are no lines laid down and no apparent rules for merging or exiting. Every man for himself. They really should install cameras and broadcast it at some sort of extreme sport.
Next stop was the Eiffel tower making a few side tracks along the Champs-Elysee for coffee and shopping. There were something around 668 steps to the second platform of the tower and a lift to the top. Taking a long rest on the first level and a short rest on the stairs (there were few people climbing the stairs that day so it was no trouble to stop) we climbed every one of those. It was cold and windy but the view was worth it and because of it the crowds were pretty thin. The third level, the one that is enclosed by glass, was obviously a bit busier but not bothersome. There were signs all around you labeled with city names accompanied by the distance from that spot to that city. I doubt that I'd ever be inclined to climb it again, but it is definitely worth doing once for sure.
We had dinner at a cute little French restaurant by Saint Michels. Of note there was the french onion soup. It was quite amazing (though I should tell you all that I've never come across a bowl of french onion soup I didn't fall in love with).
On Sunday I slept in while everyone else went to breakfast and we left somewhere around 11ish. John was interested in tracking down an antiques shop and then the plan was to go to the Picasso Museum. While I was looking in the tour book (for lack of better resources) for an antique dealer, I happened upon a listing for the world's largest flea market. Well who could resist that? We immediately scraped the museum plan and decided to spend the whole day at the flea market. We stopped at an Italian restaurant in the area there where I had the best pizza. It was a plain white pizza with fresh rocket leaves piled high. The contrast of the hot chewy pizza with the cool crunchy greens was awesome. The market was on the far north side of the city, quite out of the way. It is tough to describe quickly and in detail so suffice it to say I had a blast.
After we walked around a bit looking for a fancy place to have a cocktail. We found the Hotel du Louvre had a lovely lounge so relaxed there for a bit. I tried my very first Rob Roy there. It is, as far as I know, a bit old fashioned but I quite liked it. Made me feel fancy! Hehe
Well, check the date on this post and you'll see that this Sunday just happened to be Superbowl Sunday so we all went back to the hotel for a nap, had dinner at this great little cous cous restaurant down the street from our hotel around 10 and were back to the hotel before kick-off at 12:30. We opened the Belgian beers I had brought with me and watched the Superbowl in the hotel. John explained beforehand all the rules of American football to Gudrun who was super excited to watch her first American football game. I must admit I went to sleep early in the game but they watched the entire thing drinking (what Kelly dubbed wussy) Belgian beers and listening to the announcers in French.
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