I cooked something! Okay, mostly I just stirred it, but I'm gonna count it anyway. A few nights ago Avi knocked on my door to say that he and Nithya were cooking chicken and that he would teach me how to make the amazing chicken that he made last month. This was, of course, a very exciting prospect and I immediately took him up on the offer. Over the next half hour or so I was guided through the process - when I got there the chicken was already coated in tumeric powder and was being microwaved to cut down on cooking time, and after that we put it in a pan containing vegetable oil (quick observation - the British don't say "vegetables;" the word is just "veg" and appears as such on all signs and ads, as in "Eat five servings of fruit and veg each day!") to fry it a little and finish the cooking. Multiple spices were added, few of which I can now remember (I can get them from Avi and write them down at some point), but I know cloves, cumin, that really strong powder I smelled in the hallway, and possibly caroway seeds were added. I think some tomatoes might have been put in as well. As I said, I was heavily guided through the process while Avi and Nithya made another batch of chicken in a different kind of sauce. During the process, we tried to put something in the microwave and ended up burning it terribly; it's a miracle we didn't set the alarm off. I actually have a lot less faith in that alarm after that incident. Carlos and I ended up with our heads hanging out the kitchen windows for a good ten minutes before we could breathe properly again. I think, however, that my favorite quote from the evening came when Avi instructed me to stir and poke at my chicken but noting the bubbling oil said, "Make sure you do it carefully;" after watching me tentatively poke at it with the very very tip of the spatula he clarified, "Okay, not that carefully."
At any rate, the cooking of both sets of chickens progressed at a fabulous pace and actually we were soon joined by the rest of the flat including Nithya's friend Nahal from Iran, who is also in the law program. She seems a very sweet girl. We had another kitchen bonding experience before our homemade dinner, and Nithya and Avi semi-fried these fluffy flat round bread things that are apparently another traditional food. I say "semi-fried" because it was akin to how I'd use olive oil to grease a brownie pan - just use one drop and spread it around so there's really no excess. Then they pressed them into the frying pan to brown them just a little. They were actually really delicious - kind of sweet and mellow, not exactly breadlike, almost more like a very thin doughnut, though not as sweet. But at any rate, once those were done we dug in, and both chickens turned out really well. Mine tasted different from when Avi did it, but apparently that's to be expected. From what I've come to understand, Indian cooking is kind of like how I go about making chocolate chip cookies these days - just put things in until it looks right. Consequently it tastes a little different every time, but it adds to the adventure. It made for an excellent flat dinner though, and there was, as usual, stimulating conversation of all types, although this time it seemed to center largely around jokes regarding Fauzan's homework project diagram of a fictitious oil well called Taminga, which which he's been spending an inordinate amount of time. I daresay imagination will be sufficient to imagine the nature of these jokes, which have not ceased all week. As we had the whole flat there, Ada suggested that we go out for a meal together at some point, and we had decided on doing dinner on Saturday night but eventually that had to be changed to Sunday lunch because Fauzan needed to do some work on Taminga (demanding little thing she is), and that adventure took place today, which I'll detail later in the interest of trying to remain semi-chronological.
Methods class on Monday was actually interesting, as we talked about formulating research questions. I've already had some experience with that (shout out to Dr. Imai once again), but the guy really took us through the finer points and had us come up with some in class. This class session has an assignment attached to it, which is basically just making up research questions on a random topic, but we have to prove they're valid and extrapolate them as generally as we can, because the more people your research interests and is relevant to, the more important it is. I'm going to do mine on Nazi anti-Jewish laws in Germany from 1933-9 because that can be extrapolated out in the general sense to ponder the mechanics of how any and all governments can take steps to isolate minorities within their borders. Thrillingly exciting, I know. It should be fun to write though.
Hebrew was also better this week; we got some in class time to practice reading with a partner (I was with Ellie and it ended up being hilarious . . . can you say "Train wreck"?) but I wasn't called over individually to have a talk with her about my progress so that was a good thing. It's starting to click but it's still very much a walk through molasses (which, I'm telling you, I wouldn't do if I were you - that was for you, Father dear).
At some point this week, Carlos had gotten word from Kola that there was a Halloween party over at Grosvenor Hall to which, as George Kenyon residents, we had access, so he, Ada, and I set out for that on Friday night. We got as far as our lobby before running into people - apparently it was our very own lobby party. It was quite a gig, lemme tell ya. It consisted of a pumpkin and individual bags of chips, and that was pretty much it. But at least it was convenient - you could check your mail and do your laundry between the songs being played on someone's laptop. Ada found a friend of hers, Mellie (also from Nigeria but did her undergrad in Boston), down there and the four of us went to Grosvenor together. Over there, it wasn't much better, although there was louder music. The main attraction was free pizza and beer pong, and we seemed to have limited interest in both, especially once the pizza ran out (despite my expanding palate, I still will not eat normal pizza). The four of us stayed for about half an hour and decided to go look for a party that Ada had heard about over at the Student Union. We made our way over there, but apparently the party had disappeared. We literally searched the entire building and it wasn't there. We asked at reception twice and the woman there hadn't heard about it (although we decided a search was necessary in spite of that, because we've learned not to trust receptions), so eventually we gave up and decided to try finding the club that the party was apparently supposed to move to later. Carlos thought he knew where it was so we walked toward City Center but it turned out he didn't know exactly where he was headed. We ended up hanging out outside the Deaf Institute Music Hall (am I the only one sensing a slight irony in that?) while he called someone to get better directions, but in the end Mellie wound up going back to the dorm so it was just the three of us. It was a nice walk down there, past the place where the Erasmus party was held last month. The club, Revolutions, was located along the canal with a series of bars and clubs, but since it didn't open until 11pm we decided to hang out in one of the bars next door for a while. We ended up just staying there and dancing the night away, and boy oh boy did we meet some interesting people in there. Our count for the evening was as follows:
1. One guy hooking his arm around Carlos's neck in a bromance hug and turning him around to show off to his friends
2. One drunk girl coming up to me and giving me a hug while informing me that she was jealous of me
3. One very corpulent 40 year old woman barreling into Ada while on her way to the door
4. One drunk girl attempting some interesting dance moves on Carlos which, shockingly, he didn't notice (but Ada and I sure did and were very entertained)
5. One creepy guy attempting to pick me up with an entirely too "hands-on" approach and whispering in my ear, "Do you fancy me?" However, because it was so loud in there, what I heard was, "Do you like fencing?" and consequently my answer was a little more affirmative than I intended until I asked him to repeat the question (yes, I know - the idea that some guy in a bar would be asking me if I like fencing is a tad ludicrous and probably I should have thought it through and realized it didn't make much sense)
6. One guy moving his way into our dancing triangle, shaking Carlos's hand, and then leaving
7. One guy coming up to me and holding up his hand for a high five and then leaving after receiving it
8. A multitude of people dressed (or undressed, as it were) in the Halloween spirit; we think the Avatar couple got the most points
So it was quite the evening, but it was a lot of fun. Three and a half/four hours is a long time to dance though, and by the time we left at a bit after two we were pretty darn tired, and hungry. Lucky for us, the Babylon 100% Halal Cafe is open at 2:15 am, so we got snacks of chicken to tide us over, and by the time we got back to the dorm it was about 3 am. I didn't see Carlos the next morning but when I finally wandered into the kitchen (still proudly pajamaed; I'm definitely past the stage of needing to look formal and presentable around these guys) Avi, Nithya, and Ada were in there munching on breakfast. Nithya had to leave after a bit but Avi, Ada (also still proudly pajamaed I believe; at least I wasn't alone), and I ended up staying in there and chatting for over two hours, once again touching on multiple subjects and battling with the world's problems. Ada was also able to enlighten us about her hair - she has it in dozens of little tiny twisty braidy things and I had assumed that it was her real hair, somehow braided and twisted so that it would magically stay like that, 'cause I know mine would last about three seconds if I tried it. Avi took it a step further and thought she did that every single morning. She thought that was hysterical and explained that it's actually synthetic hair that gets twisted in with her hair - what we see is half her hair, and half synthetic. It was really intriguing, and once she had us feel it we could see that it definitely didn't feel like real hair. She was contemplating taking them out so she started while we were sitting there so we could see how it worked. Apparently it's really common practice for her back home, but it's never (or rarely) only real hair - to give it more length and make it stay like that, you braid/twist in the synthetic stuff and and then set it with really hot water so it keeps the shape. Very interesting. That got us talking about hair and eyes and stuff, and Avi mentioned that I'm the first blue-eyed person he's ever seen. Then he said, "But sometimes I think your eyes aren't really blue - they're transparent!" I brought out the pictures I have in my wallet of Tess, Russ, and me so that he and Ada could see how our eyes are the same (or at least they were when we were little) and he was fascinated with Tess's red hair. I have her senior picture as well as one that was taken of the two of us when she was about nine months old so they could see that she really does have true, natural red hair. All in all, it was a marvelous few hours of relaxing conversation, and Ada and I discovered that we both like reading and have similar literary tastes, as well as loving bookstores. She read everything she could get her hands on when she was little, and is currently always looking for books to recommend to her 13 year old sister - Mother, Aunt Debbie, any suggestions you can offer?
That evening Kola Facebooked me and asked if I wanted to go Asda with him, so I said sure. It was a relatively uneventful trip, although probably not one I'd be willing to make alone in the dark. During the day it's fine, but at night it's a little sketchier. I didn't really have much to get but I spent a lot of time examining British products of various sorts, including bath products. I shall now reveal the winner for Most Interesting Bath Scent . . . Chocolate Waffle. Yes, that is a bath scent. Yes, I smelled it. Yes, it smells like something chocolate-ish, but I detected no hint of waffles. I don't think I'd really want to be washing myself in anything waffle-scented anyway. I also spent some time looking at British baby food - it's very impressive. I can see Frasier and Niles Crane feeding their children these baby meals - lamb dinner, mango rice pudding, salmon risotto.
I had a rather interesting experience this morning when I went out for some soap, which I'd forgotten last night. In fact, I almost titled this post "How I May Have Helped Contribute to Britain's Drug Problem" but thought that might be a bit extreme. Anyway, the story goes that I was walking along Oxford Road just past University Place and a guy, maybe 20 years old, came jogging up to me and asked if I had any spare change for the bus, 'cause he didn't have enough to get home. He looked reasonably distressed and there have been enough times where I or friends of mine have been assisted by random strangers in times of need that I was willing to donate the loose change in my pockets to his cause. As I did so, a woman came out of the store screaming that he was a heroin addict and that he was just looking for money to score smack. He shouted her down trying to deny it and she retorted that he's up and down this stretch all the time with sob stories "preying on helpless young loves like her," etc., etc. I figured it might be prudent to relocate and she started walking with me, with the guy asking me to just wait there with him for a few minutes until she left, but I told him I was heading in the opposite direction and changed course, leaving him there. Obviously I'd prefer that he wasn't a heroin addict, but even if he was I'd rather be taken in for a pound or two by some putz than refuse someone who actually needed assistance - as I said, I've been in that situation myself before and would feel really awful if I passed someone over when they actually did need some help. I'd rather be a slight bleeding heart than a bitter old cat lady. After hearing this story Carlos remarked, "You really are a magnet for these weirdos; how do you manage it?" Seems like it just runs in the family.
As I mentioned earlier, today was our prearranged flat lunch, and we decided, after much deliberation, to go to a Chinese buffet on the way to City Center - 60 dishes and a 10% discount for students. On the way we passed a streetside bookseller with a ton of old books and Ada and I remarked that if he was still there by the time we returned we'd definitely be taking a look. The restaurant was about 10 minutes away and ended up being pretty good - also probably the most authentic Chinese food I've ever had, a bit more sophisticated than the Ming Moon, and not too heavy either. I tried a sweet potato cakelike pastry, chicken in some kind of sauce, garlic shrimp, fish, and others. All of it was really good, especially the fish - it was somehow kind of sweet, and very good. The shrimp were also delicious, and you know what a shrimp connoisseur I am. They were quite good, although the garlic and butter sauce made them a bit difficult to shell. It was a really good time, and a good deal for the price (it was an all-you-can-eat and it worked out to about 6.5 pounds a person; it's cheaper on weekdays). I'd go back sometime. Regardless of the food, though, it was nice to just sit back, relax, and hang out a bit; I think we're a fun crowd :) We're thinking about going to the movies next weekend, or doing our own movie night in the kitchen.
On our way back, the book seller was indeed still there, and Ada and I examined just about every volume he had (eventually the others left and headed back without us because we were so engrossed). There were some interesting things there and I ended up getting three books (because that's exactly what I need, right? More books . . .) - one on a particular theory about the rise of Nazism, one written during the war about whether Germany will be able to withstand the fight against the USSR, and The Mayor of Castorbridge, which I haven't read but Gram has always said she liked; Ada picked up a novel by Iris Murdoch. She and I had a nice discussion about books on our walk back - they love Jane Austen even in Nigeria, and at the moment she's trying to find Coming of Age in Samoa by Margaret Mead, which we talked about a lot in Social Theory last year (shout out to Dr. O'Brien). When we got back to the flat, everyone was still in the hallway, talking, and that didn't end for probably another hour or so. Stay tuned for more fabulous tales of the exploits of the residents of 04 03 . . .
No comments:
Post a Comment