Unplanned Trip to Portugal

As many of you already know, I went to Portugal! Why the sudden trip to Portugal? Well... I figured I'd have to visit one time or another and I thought it would be better to travel to Portugal now since it's "closer" in my mind than places like Norway or Finland. I realize now, after having hitchhiked there (total hitchhiking time took about 29 hours, but that included a detour to Andorra), it's actually not *that* much closer than Norway or Finland. Too late to realize that now, but still, I'm not regretting my decision. The weather there was beautiful almost every day; sun shining, clear blue skies, and a comfortable heat in the lower 80Fs (upper 20s). Another reason for coming to Portugal: I suddenly got a place to stay, a week of lectures I could delay and put off for June, and I really needed a tan!

Rainy, gray, and cloudy Strasbourg turned me into a pale zombie. In the mornings, I scared myself sometimes, actually. I mean, I really don't like the combination of features I received from my parents. In the winter, when I don't tan, I can become extremely pale. That can be "OK" in itself sometimes, but pale skin combined with dark hair and blue eyes... it looks scary in the morning, trust me. So, as my sister mentioned when I talked to her on the phone, I needed a tan, fast. While this was happening, my ex-boyfriend and I have recently been trying to be friends. We did sort of enjoy each others' company and I like to keep in touch with people and so, in the midst of our conversation, I mentioned that I was planning to hitchhike to Portugal. He enthusiastically insisted that it was a great idea since I could have a free place to stay there. His best friend (whose wedding I'd attended) lives in Lisbon with his Bulgarian wife. They would be vacationing in Malta for the next week or so and they'd be able to lend me out the apartment if I could get there before Sunday.

Thus, armed with my trusty thumb, a cardboard box, and a permanent marker, I hitchhiked southwest from Strasbourg. I spent a night at a friend's place in Toulouse and the next morning, bright and early, I hitchhiked to Andorra to add to my collection of countries visited. After Andorra, I was in Spain. Spain took a lot longer to hitchhike across than Germany. Still, I was at the door of Alexandra and Ben before nightfall.

I took day trips from Lisbon to places in southern Portugal throughout the week, most notably:

Salema

Lagos

... and Faro

Of course, my base was Lisbon

After my stay in Portugal, my ex-roommate Victor, who's back in Madrid, invited me over to lunch to meet a celebrity obsession of mine, Spanish goalie Iker Casillas! I'm still waiting for pictures from Victor since I dropped my camera while taking a picture in Madrid and it cracked open... I break everything... And the camera was relatively new!!! I only bought it last year, so I was pretty sad about it breaking. In any case, after the fateful encounter (it was actually anticlimactic to meet Casillas since I had extremely high expectations), I spent a night at Victor's place in Madrid. I hitchhiked to Toulouse again and spent another night there on my French friend's floor before heading back to Strasbourg early the next morning. 

Now I've been back here in Strasbourg and extremely bored. I want to go travel again!!! 

Today's Random Picture: 

Quiche Basics

Today, I made a quiche with roasted turkey, chèvre cheese, tomatoes, and parsley. (Total Approximate Cost for 8 reasonable or 4 large servings: 4.56€!)

It's a relatively low-labor, fast, refrigerator-friendly, and easy French dish made with a few basic ingredients and uses up any leftovers you may have. If you are able to buy a store-bought pie crust with no MSG and trans fats, it can also be made with a store-bought pie crust. Here is a healthier version of a flaky, whole wheat, "no-butter" quiche crust: 

Crust

Ingredients (Total Approximate Price: (~0.57€)

2 c. (4dl) whole wheat pastry flour (~0.25€)
1 tsp. salt (~0.01€)
2 tsp. sugar (~0.01€)
3/4 c. (1dl and 3 tbsp) canola oil (~0.15€)
4 tbsp. milk (~0.15€)

Directions

Mix flour with salt and sugar in a large bowl. 

Mix oil and milk with a separate bowl then add to the flour mixture. 

Stir the dough with a fork until it starts to form large clumps. 

Press the dough into a ball then flatten it to form a 5-6 inch (12.7-15.24cm) "pancake". 

Roll out the dough between sheets of plastic or wax/parchment paper. 

Peel off the top sheet and flip the dough into a 9-inch pie pan or tart pan. 

Remove the other sheet and press the dough into the pan. Trim if necessary.

To "blind bake" quiche crust, "dock" the dough (by poking it with a fork several time to let off steam as it bakes) then put parchment or foil on top of dough. Fill the parchment/foil with dried beans. Bake in a 350F (176C) oven for 8-9 minutes. Remove the beans and parchment/foil then return to oven to brown for 3-5 minutes. Add quiche filling (see below) then follow directions for baking the quiche.

____________________________________

Quiche

Ingredients (Total Approximate Cost: (~0.99€)

1/2 cup (1dl) heavy cream (~0.40€)

1/2 cup (1dl) milk (~0.30€)
2 eggs (~0.25€)
1/4 tsp kosher or coarse sea salt (adjust depending on your personal taste and your filling combination) (~0.01€)
Freshly grated nutmeg (~0.03€)

Directions

In a large glass or stainless steel bowl, beat eggs along with the cream and milk. 

Once thoroughly combined, add the salt and nutmeg. 

Whisk to combine.

Preheat your oven to 350F (176C). 

Evenly distribute the quiche fillings in the crust (see below for filling options). 

DO NOT overfill the crust with the fillings since the eggs will expand and overflow as the quiche bakes. 

DO NOT pour too much of the liquid into the crust. 

Bake the quiche for 40-45 minutes until set like JELL-O. 

Let cool for 15-20 minutes before cutting into the quiche to make sure it is set.
 

Tried and True Quiche Filling Options (Total Approximate Cost: ~1.50€ - 3€): 

• Sauteed onions, bacon (or "lardons" if you live in France), and Parmesan/Comté/Swiss cheese (any hard cheese will do) (~1.50€)

• Smoked salmon, parsley (or cooked spinach), and blanched or canned white asparagus (~3€)
• Roasted turkey, chèvre cheese, parsley, and tomatoes (~3€)
• Canned artichoke hearts, cooked or thawed frozen spinach (make sure it's dried!!!), and Parmesan cheese (~3€)
• Gruyere cheese, sauteed leeks, and bacon (~3€)

• Cooked spinach, sharp cheddar cheese, and cooked ham cut into cubes (~3€)

• Thawed frozen spinach (dried thoroughly!!!) and Swiss cheese (~2€)

(Be creative and try your own combinations as well! Just make sure not to use non-crumbly, soft cheese like mozzarella... otherwise your quiche will be extremely gooey and cheesy, unless, of course, you're into that stuff.)

Xenoglossophobia

I discovered a new word today: Xenoglossophobia: the abnormal fear of foreign languages.

I didn't think it was possible to be afraid of such an intriguing thing as a foreign language, but I suppose there are phobias for everything, from amaxophobia (the fear of riding in a car) to zemmiphobia (the fear of the great mole rat). Speaking of languages, I should go back to studying them, so I'll keep it short and leave you with a cartoon. 

Today's Random Cartoon: 

Revering Mother

Someone sent me this e-mail, relevant to Mother's Day, I suppose. 

When you were 8 years old, your mom handed you an ice cream. You thanked her by yelling at her and telling her its the wrong kind.
When you were 9 years old, she paid for piano lessons. You thanked her by never even bothering to practice.
When you were 10 years old she drove you all day, from soccer to football to one birthday party after another. You thanked her by jumping out of the car and never looking back.
When you were 11 years old, she took you and your friends to the movies. You thanked her by asking to sit in a different row.
When you were 12 years old, she warned you not to watch certain TV shows. You thanked her by waiting until she left the house.
When you were 13, she suggested a haircut that was becoming. You thanked her by telling her she had no taste.
When you were 14, she paid for a month away at summer camp. You thanked her by not writing a single letter.
When you were 15, she came home from work, looking for a hug. You thanked her by having your bedroom door locked.
When you were 16, she taught you how to drive her car. You thanked her by taking it every chance you could.
When you were 17, she was expecting an important call. You thanked her by being on the phone all night.
When you were 18, she cried at your high school graduation. You thanked her by staying out partying until dawn.
When you were 19, she paid for your college tuition, drove you to campus carried your bags. You thanked her by saying good-bye
outside the dorm so you wouldn't be embarrassed in front of your friends.
When you were 25, she helped to pay for your wedding, and she cried and told you how deeply she loved you. You thanked her by
moving halfway across the country.
When you were 50, she fell and needed you to take care of her. You thanked her by reading about the burden parents become to their children.
And then, one day, she quietly died. And everything you never did came crashing down like thunder on YOUR HEART.
If you love your MOM, repost this bulletin saying "i cried" if you don't... then u obviously don't care if your mom dies or you don't care if she is already dead...
 

I cried. Unfortunately, I can't say that much of the above things applied to me. My mother rarely bought me ice cream since she thought it was bad for my teeth so when she did, I was happy with whatever flavor she gave me. I actually thank her for that since it probably helped me grow into a more healthy lifestyle... though I do indulge in sweets from time to time. 

When I was 5, I started piano lessons and I did actually practice quite often since I wanted to become a pianist after about 10 years (when I was 15-17 years old I wanted to be a pianist/artist). 

When I was 8, I usually got a ride with my friends' parents, walked, or took a bus/public transportation to go to soccer/track & field/etc. practice or games and I thank my mother for teaching me to be independent at such an early age. My mother never took my to the movies, but in a way, she preserved my innocence and naïveté until I left the house.

When I was 12, after outgrowing cartoons, my mother didn't approve of many shows, so I simply stopped watching TV. TV is pretty useless anyway, except for comedies, so I'm glad she didn't let my mind melt with stupid soap operas and dramas. My mother usually cut my hair for me and once I was older, I learned how to cut my own hair, so that was nice. I've never been to a hair salon and I think it's good that I can cut my own hair without wasting money on overpriced haircuts. 

When I was 13, she paid for summer camp... and I do admit, rather guiltily, that I never sent her a single letter during the entire month. 

When I was 14, I started locking my room since I sometimes felt smothered by my mother. Perhaps my relationship with her could be better had I tried to talk to her while my personality and goals were evolving in a direction opposite hers?  

When I was 16, she taught me how to drive her car... and I do admit, I did take it every chance I could.

When I was 17, I was already out of the house and moved 1609km away from my mother. I moved out of my mother's house when I was 16, since I wanted to pursue my career in the arts. My mother taught me an invaluable lesson early on in life: Never depend on anyone else except for yourself. 

When I was 18, I dropped my courses and backpacked alone in Europe. I asked my mother's permission and she, surprisingly, approved (she did change her mind once I was already in Paris), but nonetheless, she approved! This trip opened my eyes and life in ways unimagined so I owe my mother a big "thank you" for allowing me to go (though I'd probably have gone without my mother's blessing, her initial approval meant I could go without feeling constantly guilty about going without her permission). 

When I was 19, I picked up where I left off at the university, 1609km away from home... I do feel bad that while I was studying, I almost never called my mother... I think I called her maybe once every month or every two months... 

I called my mother today. We had a 3-hour conversation about life, love, and everything in between. I feel guilty in some ways. My mother actually really wants me to get married and give her at least one grandchild. "I won't be around forever, Kerstin. I want to know there will be someone who loves you after I die and I want to meet that someone before I die. That will make me happy." I tried explaining to her my thoughts on love, on marriage, on children... I have friends and my siblings to love me after she dies, why would I need a husband? At that, she just nervously laughed and said she hoped I would change my mind in the future... in the near future. She wants me to be married before I'm 30, but that's SO UNFAIR! My mother got married after she was 30! Double standards, much? 

Sorry, mother, if you ever read my blog (which I doubt you ever will)... but I'm really sorry. While I can make some sacrifices, I can't do something I don't believe in. Marriage, to me, is an outdated institution no longer relevant to modern society. Children are a burden on Mother Earth and I refuse to procreate and fill the already overpopulated earth with yet another parasitic being using energy and releasing carbon into the world. While you may think I'll change my mind in the future, I highly doubt it. My decision about marriage and children was made when I was 12. I'm 22 now... it's been 10 years and my feelings about these subjects have only become more concrete and embedded in stone over the years. The older I get, the more sure I am that I will never wed and have children. I love the way I live now, doing whatever I want, being able to pick up a bag and leaving when I want, without something weighing me down and chaining me to one place. I value freedom more than a partnership and procreation and this preference will not change. 

Still, I hope my mother will understand, that no matter how much our views on life, on love, and on any other subject differ, I still love her. It really breaks my heart that she may never see grandchildren before she dies and it makes me sad that she can't comprehend the fact that I'm happy with the way things are now... that money doesn't make me happy and no man will make me happy. I want her to know that for me, my personal happiness depends not on others, but on myself and on my state of mind. I love my mother still, and without her, I would never be the me I am today. Even the points we disagree on, perhaps, are due to the fact that my spiteful nature made me evolve in an opposite direction. We agree on very few, if any subjects... but we still love each other, in our own, peculiar, special ways.

Today's Random Picture: 

Victory in Europe Day

Unlike the U.S., where Victory in Europe Day (aka. VE Day), isn't really celebrated and life goes on as normal, the French actually have a day off for this day. Let me play devil's advocate here for a second, but I think it's a little funny that the French celebrate Victory in Europe Day (most stores and banks are closed) given that the French really didn't do much throughout the war until the very end since it was occupied by Germany. Yeah, I know, I live in France and I'm sure tons of French people will be offended, but I can't help but mention that. WWII wasn't "won" by the French... they lost to Germany after a month and it was mostly the UK and the U.S. who helped liberate France and Russia played a big role in defeating the Axis Powers. The French were basically declared winners by default. Sure there was the "Résistance", but yeah...

In any case, maybe I'm just ranting about the French partly because the supermarkets are closed and I have no more milk left to drink since they're also closed on Sundays. Super! One of the things I need to survive is milk, without it, I'm not exactly the happiest person on Earth.

Actually, there's one stereotype about the French that's partially true. "The French can't win a war alone/without the help of Americans". I'm a history major, so I've had my fair share of studying wars fought by the French... and... while it wasn't always the American who helped the French "win", it's kind of true... OK, Napoleon won a lot of battles, but ultimately he lost the Napoleonic Wars to the Duke of Wellington (after whom the dish beef wellington is named).

If you really think about it though... it's kind of true... the French can't win a war alone... unless of course, it's against themselves:

The Gallic Wars - Lost. The French lost the Gallic Wars to the Italians.

Hundred Years War - Almost Lost. The French mostly lost the Hundred Years War (which actually lasted for 118 years) but it was Joan of Arc who came to the rescue! So maybe the French can only win if the armies are led by someone who's not a Frenchman? Perhaps Frenchwomen are made of sterner stuff?

Italian Wars - Lost. Italy is victorious. No offense to the Italians, who also have a not-so-great record when it comes to winning wars, but how can you lose 2/2 wars to Italy???

Thirty Years War - Occupied. France didn't even participate in this war but the country was invaded and at the end of the war, when it's free again, claims that the war was a tie, but the actual participants really didn't pay much attention.

The Dutch War - Tied. I think this is the only time the French managed an actual tie.

War of the Augsburg League/King William's War/French and Indian War -  Mostly Lost. It was actually technically lost but officially declared a "tie".

War of the Spanish Succession - Lost.

The American Revolution War - The French did help and it's true that the U.S. colonies might not have had enough funds to win the war had it not been for French aid... BUT, in terms of actual fighting, Americans saw most of the action and very few Frenchmen actually fought in the war. There's another stereotype that goes "The French only wins a war when America does most of the fighting." In history, it's not always America, but in terms of a foreign, non-French power doing most of the fighting... yeah... maybe it's true.

French Revolution - Won. But they were also fighting against each other... so yeah...

The Napoleonic Wars - Lost. A few battles were won, but Napoleon was Corsican, which is an island of France that actually wants to secede from the country and be independent... but even he lost in the end.

The Franco-Prussian War - Lost. Germany defeats France.

World War I - Tied. The allied powers are given a boost with the intervention of the United States.

World War II - Lost: Victory only by default. The French were defeated by Germany after a month of "courageous" fighting. In the end, they were occupied until the Brits and Americans came to liberate them.

War in Indochina - Lost. French forces lost and had to give up its Southeast Asian colony.

Algerian Rebellion - Lost. France loses its African colony as Algeria becomes the first non-Turkic Muslim country to defeat a "Western" power since 13th century.

I don't advocate any war, but yeah, that stereotype seems to be true, about the French being unreliable when it comes to military affairs. It's just a matter of when the French surrender, I suppose. I wonder... is this why Frenchmen seem so effeminate?

Today's Random Picture:

Quick and Easy Pizza

My brother's finishing his first year at university now and in our last conversation, he complained a lot about having to cook his own meals. He's become a "health nut" in a sense that he refuses to eat any harmful additives, chemicals, and trans fatty acids (just like me!). Problem is, Ken doesn't know how to cook very well nor does he enjoy cooking or baking. Since I don't like to hear my brother suffer, I've decided to post some of my recipes (especially the easier ones) in hopes that it might help him, or others, who are on a tight budget and still want a healthy, good meal. 

Thus, today's recipe is a whole wheat pizza. White wheat flour has less nutritional value and less fiber, so I opt for whole wheat flour, which not only has more fiber but a higher nutrient content. I say it's "quick" because the time to make the pizza (actual physical labor) is probably less than 30 minutes. Most of the time, you have to wait, during which time you can read or go for a run or do something else! I didn't have much in the fridge in terms of pizza toppings, so mine is topped with homemade tomato sauce, tomatoes, parsley, mozzarella and emmental cheeses.

Pizza (8 *reasonable* servings... or if you're my roommates... 2 servings)
Ingredients:
1 teaspoon white sugar (~0.01€)
1 1/2 cups (3dl) warm water (110F/45C) (~0.01€)
1 tablespoon active dry yeast (~0.15€)
1 tablespoon extra virgin olive oil (~0.05€)
1 teaspoon salt (~0.01€)
3 1/2 cups (7dl) whole wheat flour (~0.50€)
Pizza toppings, sauce, cheese(s) of your choice (~0.50€ to ?€, depending on your toppings)


Total cost for 6-8 servings: ~1.23€!!!


Directions:
In a large bowl, whisk the sugar into the warm water.
Sprinkle yeast on top of sugar water and let it stand for about 10 minutes, until foamy.
Whisk in extra virgin olive oil and salt into the liquid, then add 3 cups (6dl) of the whole wheat flour.
Flour a clean surface with the remaining 1/2cup (1dl) of flour and knead the dough until it absorbs the rest of the flour and forms gluten, making it glossy (approx. 10 minutes).
Rinse out bowl or in a separate large, oiled bowl, put kneaded dough back in, covering with a little more oil.
Cover loosely with a clean kitchen towel or plastic.
Let dough rise until it doubles in size, about 1 hour.
After the dough rises, tip the dough onto a lightly floured surface and divide into 2 pieces for smaller pizzas or leave as one piece for a large pizza.
Knead to form a tight ball and let it rise until it doubles again (about another hour).
Preheat the oven to 425F (220C).
Roll out the dough with a rolling pin (or an empty, clean, wine bottle).
Drape it over your fists and if you're more professional, you can toss it to stretch the dough out further.
If not, gently pull the edges outward to stretch the pizza dough.
(If you want a thinner, crunchier crust, stretch it out as much as you can without tearing it. If you want a thicker, softer crust, don't stretch it out as much)
On a well-oiled pan, place the dough and top with homemade or store-bought tomato sauce, cheese, and any additional toppings to your liking.
Bake for 15-20 minutes, depending on the size and thickness of your pizza.  


Today's Random Picture: 

 The closest thing to a dragon you'll probably ever see?

Love is Deafness

I assume most people are familiar with the expression that "love is blindness". When you're in romantic "love" with someone, you fail to see their flaws and see only the positive traits and are "blinded" by love. While I don't believe romantic love with a significant other can last for more than a few years (5 years would be the maximum, I'd say, in terms of the psychology and scientific explanations, since release of neurotransmitters adrenaline, dopamine, oxytocin, serotonin, vassopressin, etc. all return to "normal" levels after as early as 2 or 3 years but also as late as 5 years) I never thought that it could be the same for languages. As in a previous entry, I noted that language learning is like being married. My love affairs, flings, and short-lived romances with foreign languages I never married and my eventual polygamous marriage to the current languages I'm learning are extremely parallel to the psychology behind human relationships!

I find this realization fascinating. English is my native language so I suppose this language isn't a marriage at all. It's perhaps like a mother to me. I don't love in romantically, but I do appreciate the language and I love English when it's spoken not with an American accent, but with a foreign accent (British, French, German, Irish, Polish, Romanian, Russian). Swedish and Korean were my "second" languages, due to my ethnic background. I was exposed to these languages since infancy, so these are like my "siblings". My siblings in real life I love dearly (in a platonic way, of course. Kar and Ken know I love them =) Love you guys!) But as for my language "siblings" my feelings for them are pretty neutral. I don't hate them, but I do feel appreciative of them and find them interesting sometimes. Needless to say, I do not feel "passionate" about either language.

Then come the real "foreign" languages in my life. Spanish was an arranged marriage. At one point, I hated Spanish since I was being forced to learn it. After having spent a good chunk of my academic life and sacrificing countless hours to learning it, I feel an obligation to be "married" to it. It would be a waste of time and energy if I were to forget it or "divorce" it now. In fact, I've really come to like the way "Castellano" sounds, perhaps because my roommate in New York was a Spaniard from Madrid? I'm not sure.

French was my first love. As a 5-year-old at the JFK airport waiting for my father who was coming back from his military assignment in Germany, I first heard French as an airport announcement while with my pregnant mother and infant brother. The soothing sounds of French enticed even my puerile ears. "What language was that?!" I asked, fascinated by my new discovery. 

"That's French," she replied, while putting a hand over her 8-month pregnant belly. 

"Oh!" I exclaimed. I didn't say the rest aloud, but I clearly remember thinking, Wow, I want to learn French! After this airport discovery, I rummaged through our family library to find an old atlas, looking for France on the world map, discovering its capital, learning about the Eiffel Tower... 

It took 13 years to finally learn French and go to France for the first time. My first few years of being "married" to French were wonderful. It was like a childhood dream that finally came true. Everything about the language captivated me entirely and I devoted innumerable hours to it. My love for it felt endless and limitless. Meeting French people and speaking French with them made my heart beat faster with excitement. These were the blissful early years. 

Now I've come to realize this excitement is gone. It's now been nearly 5 years since I've been "married" to French and the initial burning passion I have for French seems to have waned to a flicker. No longer do I feel so excited and my heart doesn't beat any faster at the prospect of speaking it. Perhaps it's even further killed by the fact that I live in France where everyone speaks it. Not only that, but I've come to realize that French isn't always so beautiful as it sounded to me before I learned it. I love Parisian French. The Parisian accent is by far my favorite. The Alsatian accent (I live in Alsace) in French does not sound very nice. Most people speak standard French here (especially the younger generation) but the older generation and people from villages have strong Alsatian accents which I find unattractive. Québécois, the French spoken in Canada, sounded beautiful when I didn't know a word of French. Now, I really dislike this accent. Sometimes even standard French sounds unattractive depending on the speaker and the way it's being spoken on the streets. Before, everyone who spoke French seemed to me to have beautiful voices and spoke beautifully. Now, I find some peoples' voices to be annoying at times. Before everything sounded beautiful, now, now that I know French relatively well, it doesn't always sound so beautiful and it's a little sad that this initial passion is virtually gone. 

It's not just French either. German was the second language I married for love and even with this, my passion is slowly waning. Before I knew a word of German, all German speakers sounded the same. Now, it's not the case. I know which accents in German I like the best. Standard German I still like very much and I definitely like the northern German accent and the Eastern German accents the best. The southern German accents (Baden-Württemberg and  Bayern being the most notable examples) and the Austrian accents are not very attractive to me anymore. Sadly, the city next to Strasbourg, Kehl, is in Baden-Württemberg... so they all speak German with a rather unattractive accent.

What is insane about French and German now is I even have a preference for people speaking with a French or German accent in English! I didn't think this was possible, but it is. For instance, a Parisian speaking English with a French accent sounds a lot better than a Marseillaise speaking English with a French accent. Sound insane? Maybe. It's worse for German, actually. I really like Germans from northern/eastern (esp. Sachsen) German who speak English with a German accent but really dislike the German accent when someone from Baden-Württemberg or Bayern speaks English with their German accent. All Austrian accents and Swiss-German accents, in both German and in English with German accents, don't sound very nice to me. Strange, since I'm not as picky with French when it comes to the Belgians or Swiss speaking French. But with German, I've developed extreme preferences.

Actually, in the past few months, I've come to realize that my love for Russian has surpassed my love for German. I'm still a beginner in Russian so that passion and excitement is still strong and burning. Everything is so different in Russian that it's fascinating. It's different from French in that while I loved Russian and that's why I decided to learn it, I didn't love it as much as I loved French when I started it. It was my 3rd favorite language when I initially attempted to learn Russian, resulting in the lack of motivation at first and my on and off relationship made it difficult to make progress, especially as I focused on my French or German. Last year, however, I realized I'd begun to like Russian more and more. The more I learned the more it became interesting. It equalized in terms of interest level with German and now I'm sure that I prefer Russian over German. I mean, French was so easy to learn (for me, it was the easiest language I've learned so far) that while I felt satisfied in the early stages, that feeling of satisfaction is virtually gone now. Russian is a little different. It's so hard to learn that I sometimes wonder why I'm so masochistically attracted to this language. Still, the satisfaction level is amazingly high, higher than it ever was with French.  It makes me wonder, though, will I also develop such preferences for Russian once I speak it well? Five or ten years from now, will the passion I have for Russian die just as my passion for French?

Don't get me wrong. I still love French. But the feeling of being wildly and "madly in love" is gone. French is still my favorite language but my love for French isn't growing anymore. Meanwhile, my love for Russian has been steadily increasing. I'm a little afraid to admit it, since I've loved French for such a long time (nearly 18 years) but I think it's a possibility that maybe in the future, my love for Russian will surpass my love for French.

As for Italian, I used to love it almost as much as Russian when I started out but my love for it hasn't been increasing or decreasing and it's been pretty level. Satisfaction levels for Italian are not that high since it's not so difficult to learn, especially not after French and Spanish. I love it a lot more than Spanish, but less than French, Russian, and German.

Maybe I'm just an extremely picky person when it comes to serious relationships, whether with a human or a language? For instance, I even have preferences for the genders of speakers. My favorite speakers for each language are different. For French, I really prefer French when it's spoken by a woman. I don't know why, but it sounds nicer when a Parisian French woman speaks French than a Parisian man. Even in English, I prefer listening to a Parisian Frenchwoman speaking English over a Parisian Frenchman. The language sounds so much nicer to me when it's spoken by a woman. For Russian, I definitely prefer it when it's spoken by a man. I don't have accent preference or anything but I just like it when it's spoken by a man with a nice voice. For German, I prefer it being spoken by a man from northern or eastern Germany. Italian, I prefer when women speak it. I'm not fluent enough to have accent preferences, but I usually prefer listening to Italian being spoken by a woman rather than by a man. Spanish, I guess I just prefer anyone from Madrid over any other city. I'm pretty gender-neutral when it comes to Spanish since it wasn't out of love that I started this language. My preference for the Madrid accent probably comes from the fact that I lived with a friend who spoke with that accent.

Hm, I'm actually not picky but I'd prefer the term sound-sensitive. Out of the 5 sense, if I were forced to give up all other senses and keep only one sense, it would be to have my sense of hearing. Sounds are amazing. Music is capable of stoking emotions. Languages can seduce you. For me personally, the extent of what can be expressed through sound and speech is astonishing. I know I'm not alone in this since my siblings agree with me. They might not choose the sense of hearing over all other senses (the sense of sight is more important for some. For me, the sense of sight comes second after hearing, so sight is also very important), but they're also very sound sensitive. Both my siblings want to date people with a nice voice, in addition to nice looks. I suppose for me this has evolved into accent preferences within language preferences, while it's not the case for my siblings.

Today's Random Picture: 

Rodent Dumbo? Still pretty cute =)

Golden Thumb

My friends, most notably Pavol and Erik, have dubbed my thumb the "golden thumb". I've calculated that over the past 4 years, I've hitchhiked a total of approximately 11,333 miles (18,240 kilometers) give or take a few miles, which is a distance I realize, is pretty impressive if I don't say so myself. To give you an idea how much distance that is, the Earth's diameter at the Equator is 7,926.28 miles (12,756.1 km) and at the Poles is 7,899.80 miles (12,713.5 km). The circumference of the Earth is 24,901.55 miles (40,075.16 km) at the Equator and 24,859.82 miles (40,008 km) at the Poles. Perhaps it's now safe to say, since I've hitchhiked a distance equivalent to nearly a trip halfway around the world, that I'm an "experienced" hitchhiker. 

As such, I've decided to share some advice about this sport for those who are interested in trying out their own thumbs on the road. Here are 5 Golden Rules of Hitchhiking:

1. Hitchhiking is not for the timid or for the weak. You have to have a sense of adventure if you want to hitchhike. It's perfectly normal to feel a little scared or nervous the first time you hitchhike a longer distance, but you should still be fearless enough to smile as you stand and wait for a driver to stop. 

2. Patience is the key to virtue. Sometimes, you might not get a ride. Usually, I hitchhike alone and, I do admit, as a solo female hitchhiker, I have a pretty easy time getting cars to stop. Still, I have had some instances when I wasn't able to find a good ride out of some Albanian and Romanian villages. Be prepared to entertain yourself if you're traveling alone and don't feel down. Hitchhiking can be one of the most rewarding things you can do in your life!

3. Talk with your driver! Oftentimes drivers pick up hitchhikers not only because they're nice people and want to help, but because they want someone to talk to on a lengthy trip. Having a conversation with your driver may lead you to have drinks or dinner or better yet, a floor to sleep on once you reach your destination. If you're especially lucky, you may make a friend for life from someone who picks you up! 

4. Have a sense of humor. Sometimes, when it rains or when it snows or when inclement weather turns its ugly head, you might feel desperate or hopeless. Don't let the weather get you down! In fact, I find it easier to hitchhike in bad weather since people often think, "Oh, that poor hitchhiker standing in the rain". Even if you don't get a ride, keep on smiling and things will work out in the end =)

5. Be prepared. Make a sign if you know where you're going. It increases the speed and efficiency of your trip. In case of an emergency or other situation where a ride is absolutely unattainable, be prepared to either set up a tent outside or have a debit/credit card or enough money to take public transportation the rest of the ride if you're in a hurry. For instance, when I was hitchhiking to the airport in Frankfurt from Poland to catch my plane back home, I managed to hitchhike all the way, but was prepared to pay for a bus or train ticket should I get stuck somewhere with no ride. Also, have some food and water with you since it's very possible to "be stuck" while hitchhiking longer distances. You might get hungry and no one wants to die of dehydration in the middle of nowhere! 

Don't come back and sue me for endorsing this sport! Hitchhike at your own risk and trust your gut instincts! If the driver in the car seems like a total creeper, it's perfectly OK to decline the ride! I've had to decline a couple rides from men who seemed very creepy and I know I made the right decision because after I decline, they yelled and swore as they drove away. Hitchhiking is extremely addictive, so brace yourself for that as well. Now that I'm completely hooked, I can't imagine going back to conventional or "normal" ways of traveling in a foreign country. It is one of the most rewarding life experiences you may have and you may also meet some of the kindest souls on the planet!

Today's Random Cartoon: 

Never Settle

Life is essentially a constant search for happiness. My personal meaning of life is to learn as much as I can, be as happy as I can, and try my best to help as many other people to be as happy as they can. What makes each person happy is different, of course. Perhaps a secure and quiet life in the suburbs, a steady job and income, a nice house and car, a white picket fence with 2.05 kids - the average American family - may make some people happy. Maybe that was their dream and they've achieved all they wanted to achieve in life? I personally can't understand how this can be a dream since we have such a short time to live, but if that is how they find their personal happiness, I have absolutely nothing against them. The people I do critique are those who are too lazy or too scared to take a chance in life, those people who settle for a life they don't sincerely wish for, such people in my eyes will always be poltroons.

Shockingly, my backup plans in life seem to make me reflect on my personal life goals. As of now, my future is completely uncertain. Someone mentioned that I have my entire life planned out: my list of things to do before I die, what my "retirement" plans are should I live to be too old to travel, and that really made me think. While it is true that I have a sketch of my future, or at least, what I want my future to look like, the sketch is all in pencil. Years pass and my life portrait becomes more and more complete. Perhaps most of the background is already painted and finished. Details and other finer points are unfinished and not even dreamed of yet, but I merely have guidelines, not specific, mature goals. Becoming a travel writer is my dream job, but working solely as a travel writer is actually a difficult dream to attain since the way I travel is appreciated by few, if any, publishing companies. No one wants to endorse hitchhiking, sleeping outside, or accepting housing from strangers you meet along the way. Most prefer hotel or youth hostel reviews, perhaps reviews of restaurants, cruise vacation reviews, and other such boring modes of travel I deem should be reserved for the elderly. What I want to write about are alternative, unconventional ways of traveling, in addition to the sites and attractions, in addition to the history of the country, city, language, culture, the people... How I plan about achieving my dream is still in progress. 

Then I realized, my rather, very recent "backup" plan I've been toying with was becoming a professor. This would provide some basic income in addition to spare time during breaks, allowing for me to travel. Yet, I wonder, is this a reactionary development of cowardly adulthood? Intellectual stimulation is something I really enjoy, I admit it, I enjoy learning. I'm very passionate about what I want to study and should I go on to complete a PhD, I already know what I want to research. Though I enjoy it, becoming a professor would be "settling" and I refuse to settle. There's an anonymous quote that goes, "If you live each day as if it was your last, someday you'll most certainly be right." If I were to become a professor, would I really be living each of my days teaching as if it were my last? Probably not. 

To be good at something, I realize you really have to love it passionately. In high school, I loved my history classes, despite going through my surgeon phase, which led me to take many science and anatomy classes. It made me realize I couldn't be a surgeon when I didn't feel any passion for most sciences. How could I force myself to study subjects I didn't like through 4 years of university then again through 4 years of medical school? Would I be happy? I gave up that dream, luckily, by the end of high school. I'd moved onto another phase by then; my "artsy" phase. Bohemian lifestyles were romantic and attractive to me so I concluded I would become an artist/pianist, even if it meant I would be starving and poor for most of my life. Then I realized while I really enjoyed piano and painting/drawing/sculpting, etc., I would never be good enough to make such things my profession. Moreover, while I "loved" doing what I did, I was never exactly "passionate" about it and never felt that feeling of inner satisfaction with anything I finished painting/drawing/sculpting or after piano recitals. At university, I finally found my passions: traveling and foreign languages. Problem is, how to combine these two passions into a job I will love? Travel writing is a dream job, but that's not necessarily the only job that I could love. 

As long as I find any job that allows me to travel, learn and use languages, and perhaps in the process, help others, that would be a job I'd love. I do feel lucky to have found my passions in life so early on and realized the importance of following your dreams. Despite how cliché it sounds, it's true: you have to follow your dreams. Don't listen to what "logic" says, listen carefully to your innermost desires. Find your life passion or passions and do something you feel such a passion for. An average human spends about 1/3 of his or her life working, 1/3 of his or her life sleeping, and 1/3 of his or her life doing something else. Why not make sure that the 2/3 of your conscious life is spent doing something you love? I believe I will only live once. This is my one and only chance at living and I think it would be foolish to be anything but happy during the 2/3 of my life I'm awake. If you love what you do, you'll excel at what you do. I refuse to settle for less and I advise everyone who is reading this to do the same. Never settle for less. Never settle for something you're not 100% happy and satisfied with. If you haven't found your passions yet, keep looking until you've found it. When you do find it, you will know. The realization will be so profound that you can't miss it.

Generally, I'm a happy person because I count all of my blessings. I'm happy to have found my passions early on when there are some people who spend their entire lives looking and dying before finding theirs. I'm happy because I realized that we are all dying early on in life. You, dear reader, will die soon. I will die soon. We are all on the same boat headed towards the sea of death. We are all fellow passengers. What will we do during this journey? Thinking about the inevitable fact of death will help you make the choices in life because when you think of the possibility of dying tomorrow, everything else will seem like frivolities. Your fears of failure, your fears of embarrassment, any great expectations that others have for you, your fears of what others will think or critique about your actions, they're all useless when you know that you might die tonight. Live life as if you were dying, because you really are. Only then will you realize what the most important things in your life are. There's really no need to fear life or death or failure since, in this universe, in this world of many galaxies and solar systems, you are a pretty insignificant life. Your mistakes or embarrassments will go unnoticed by most and so you have this one chance at life - this blip in time in all space and time continuum before and after your conscious existence - to do what you want to do, to try to make a difference by making others happy, and to make yourself happy.

Today's Random Picture:

Killing Me Softly with His Chocolate

I got some good quality Swiss chocolate today from a French friend who'd visited Switzerland over the weekend. What to do with this besides just eat it all? Hm... I tried my hand at baking some mini chocolate molten lava cakes! They were irresistibly delicious and with some homemade crème anglaise... it was heavenly. 

My uncle taught me this disputed French-American dessert. There's some controversy over whether it was invented in the U.S. or in France but either way, it's delicious and that's all that matters! My roommate were raving about this dessert and even the crème anglaise was gone by the end of the night. Let's hope that my Pascal doesn't go to Switzerland every weekend, or I might die of a chocolate-related heart disease... though dying because of too much chocolate doesn't sound like a bad death =D

Here's the recipe for anyone interested in trying. It's very easy to follow, you don't need too many ingredients, and it's scrumptious!

Molten Lava Cake

Ingredients: 

3.5 oz. (100 g) good quality semisweet or bittersweet chocolate

4 tbsp. (100g) unsalted butter

2 large eggs

3 tbsp. sugar 

4 tbsp. (30g) all purpose flour 

Cocoa powder 

Butter

Directions:

Butter ramekins then add a little bit of cocoa powder to each ramekin, shaking off any excess. This is just to make sure that the cake will come out of the ramekin after it bakes =) 

Preheat your oven to 350F (176C)

Melt the chocolate and butter together over a double broiler or in the microwave, stirring often so that the chocolate doesn't burn! 

Whisk the eggs and sugar together and beat until very pale and thick (it takes over 10 minutes with a hand mixer... yeah, I said it was easy and good, I never said it was fast!). 

Turn the speed on your mixer to low and add the flour. Add the melted chocolate and butter mixture and mix to combine.

Divide mixture into the ramekins and bake for 10 minutes! Don't bake for longer... then it won't be a molten lava cake but just a regular chocolate cake.

For the Crème Anglaise: 

Ingredients: 

1/4 cup (0.5dl) heavy cream
1/2 tsp. pure vanilla extract
1 egg yolk
1 tbsp. granulated sugar

Directions: 

In a small, heavy-bottomed saucepan, heat the vanilla and cream together. DO NOT BOIL!
Whisk egg yolk with sugar until it's becomes glossy and smooth.
Temper the egg yolk-sugar mixture with the hot cream.
Whisk constantly so that the egg doesn't curdle!
Slowly, whisking constantly, add the heated egg mixture to the cream mixture. 

Whisk until it thickens (until it's napé as the French would call it) - the mixture should be thick enough to coat the back of a wooden spoon and holds a line when you take a finger and draw across it. 

Use immediately or after it cools; if you have leftovers, you can keep it in the refrigerator for a few days.

Today's Random Picture:

Jumping to Conclusions

Unlike my brother and sister who have, I suppose, all the "good Swedish genes", I got, according my mother, all the "bad Mongol" genes. I never really questioned her why she always says I got all the bad Mongol genes, but I just assumed it's because (based on the very old black-and-white pictures I've seen of my Mongolian grandmother taken in the early 1940s) I look more like her than anyone else in the family. I definitely don't look like my mom (she's a stereotypical blond-haired, blue-eyed Swede) and I don't really look like my dad either. But from her pictures, my Mongolian grandmother is the closest familial resemblance I can find. So, I look the most Asian out of the three children. No one ever thinks my brother or sister are half Asian. Once when my brother shaved his head in the summer, skinheads started talking to him because they thought he was one of them. Then he told them his father was Asian! What a surprise that must have been.

I, on the other hand, can be virtually anything except "white". Depending on the situation, how tan I am, the person who's guessing, what my hair is like, people have guessed that I was anything from Mexican to Japanese to Native American to everything in between. Recently, I've been attempting to get tanner since my sister commented on a recent photo that my arm was so white that it looked like a "friggin' baby ghost's arm", I concluded she was right and bought some self-tanning cream. A few days ago, when it was 82F (27C) here and sunny, I rode my bike to Germany to tan by the river. So now, I have some good, healthier color on me, but not enough that people will guess I'm Mexican =). 

On the tram today, someone randomly started talking to me while I was getting out my language flashcards. I politely entertained the conversation then she asked the question I've been asked so many times before in my life that it's really getting old, even in French. "Where are you from?" Now, it's very easy to answer this question since I don't live in the U.S. So I said the U.S. She didn't seem satisfied with my answer. She asked if I was from Alaska (probably implying the questions whether I was an Inuit or not). I said no and to answer the question she really should have asked/wanted to know (my ethnic background), I told her. Then she asked if I spoke Chinese. WTF?! How the hell do you get a question like that from Korean, Mongolian, and Swedish? Then she asked what the difference was between Korean, Mongolian, and Chinese. Apparently to her, anyone who has Asian roots is just Chinese. Uh... wow. That's the equivalent of saying anyone who is European is just German. Just because a = b and b = c does not mean c = a. After I said that I think she understood, since Alsatians, despite speaking a dialect which is basically a German dialect, consider themselves to be very different from Germany and Germans. 

I really don't like it when people jump to conclusions like that. If you're curious about my ethnic background, just ask! And if you're really uninformed about the differences between different countries and languages, read a book and learn a foreign language!

I told this story to my sister while talking to her today and she sent me this:

Today's Random Conversation:

Xenomania on Hold

After much deliberation and lost sleep over my most recent dilemma, I've finally made a decision about whether I'll travel the world or stay put and learn languages (and in turn, finish my studies). As the title of the entry suggests, I'm going to restrain my xenomania for the time being since my love of languages is greater than my love of traveling. I realized this as I thought about when and how these passions developed. 

My love of languages goes deeper into my past than my love of traveling does. In a way, my interest in foreign languages inspired me or led me to discover the world, develop a sincere and profound interest in other countries, and created my second passion for traveling. It was a tough choice to make since a significant part of me (like 49.99999%) is deeply hurt by my decision and still wants to defenestrate everything (figuratively) and travel the world. Still, the very slight majority wins since this isn't something I can split very evenly. After all, it's sort of a winner-take-all situation. I can't hitchhike around the world for a few years AND finish my studies at the same time. That would be impossible. 

What I do know is that at every opportunity I WILL travel in attempt to satisfy my other half. Every winter, spring, and summer break accorded to me during my studies, I will try to travel as much as I can. Summer break tends to be longer, so I suppose if I get enough scholarships or I work as a teaching assistant, I'll be able to have enough money for plane tickets to "far away lands". A bittersweet decision... I can't say I'm completely happy, but I'm happy as I can be, given the circumstances. 

Today's Random Cartoon: