Let's. Do. This.

Yep. It's been a long while. Hold on. Let me have a sip of the libation I have procured so as to facilitate the development of a flow (not that I need any sort of adult beverages to write a blog. I can quit time I want YOU DON'T OWN ME).

Ah. That's American beer. And I'm wearing a vest and a Christmas tie, but that's who I am in the now that is now. Because, man, we should like, be one with the one that is one with our one and then we'll have won the one... too.

That's deep, man.

Okay, so basically this has been a test run so far to get me back into the flow. Let's see what I ccan do to make this coherent, because I have no idea what I'm going to talk about- there's been a lot since my last post, and you knw what, let's talk about what's happened in BULLET TIME. I MEAN FORMAT.

• I went to the Balkans, i.e. (holy crap let's see if I can remember all this) Belgrade (with the longest bus ride ever. That itself might be worth a post if I can remember everything that went down.), Sarajevo, Mostar, and, um... Split? Was it Split? Geeez I can't believe I don't remember. Either way, Serbia, Bosnia, Bosnia, Croatia, back to Serbia, and then back to Paris, where Bev was as lovely as ever.
• I found out Amanda was dating someone new. This was a rough blow at the time, and at times, it still can be (if we're being totally honest here), but at this point? I'm glad she found someone else (to put it nicely). They're engaged now, and I hope they find all the happiness in the world. ANYHOO LET'S STOP THE EMO NOW.
• I had my last couple of days at my schools. I'm indifferent about the other teachers, really, but I did have a great time with Annette teaching English. That was my once in a lifetime adventure, and it was awesome. It was also my last summer, and what a summer it was.
• Blah blah went back to the States blah blah Davidson Graduation blah blah awkwardness and mixed signals with Amanda blah blah enough of that.
• And then, well, we're to where I am now (more or less).

So, when I got back to the States (I really need to do a whole debrief on those last weeks in Paris- they were pretty killer), I moved in with my old fraternity brother (whose permission I don't have to use his name or whatever the proper version of that would be, because right now I don't know and have little inclination to break what meager flow I have to look that business up, I mean really, so we'll call him) Doc Brown. Doc Brown is in the same MD/PhD program I'm in, and he offered me the chance to rent his spare room right across from campus in Charleston. It's...

It's pretty freaking baller. I think the first thing he said was, "Man, I hope it's not to small for you." And of course, my response was something along the lines of, (dammit they don't have Algerian as a font option, so I can't make myself sound appropriately regal and magnanimous here)  "My child, something about an eye of a needle making a city on a hill of sand less stable for seven foolish wives who were not appropriately dressed for the wedding feast for the prodigal's son" and to cut that biblical American Pie business short, it seemed enormous to me compared to what I had in France. I mean, the ceilings don't even slope in and cut my total volume in half!

The counters are at a reasonable height for an actual person who's not entirely insane!

A freaking microwave!

A refrigerator where I can use the whole thing! (Honestly, that took me a while to get used to. I'm pretty sure I asked Joe about 12 times, "Hey, is it okay if I move ____ in the refrigerator?" to which he said, "Dude, you live here now. You don't have to ask." But for 8 months, I been asking permission to move food. I can't squeeze a drop without say-so (and now you can thank your lucky stars that I actually made an obscure pop-culture reference. But oh, there's another coming, and it's just for you, Pops).

A roommate who doesn't constantly judge me! (Okay, fine, not as much as Bev did. There's still judging, to be sure.)

Basically, it's a sweetheart deal.

Then, over the summer, I did research witha  drug discovery group. I don't mean to brag/sound like (okay this reference is taking me a long time to find) a Nathan, but I was doing some experiments that were busting the whole thing wide open (okay, fine, I'll give you that one- it was supposed to be a thing from Sophie's Choice where Nathan keeps going on about how they've almost cracked the whole thing wide open with this experiment blah blah long story short it's not about Sophie and um where was I but yeah hope you liked this Dad despite the blatant lack of commas here). Regardless, good times in a lab, and all is right with the world.

There have been other developments, but it's late and I need to study tomorrow. I just want to start getting back in the habit of updating this, such as I can.

Oh! Also! Um.... that notebook with all those nice recipes that had a couple of things I had made that hadn't gotten posted on here yet? Well.... it got lost. I'm as sad as you are, because it had some pretty priceless stuff.

Anyhoo, let's see if next time I can do better.

BLOGMAS DAY 7: HOBBLING TOWARDS BUS FOOD

Anyhoo, as I mentioned below, I went ahead and made some cookies today. The few that I've had seem quite delicious. Okay, let's write this. I'm tired.

CHOCOLATE RAIN COOKIES

Yeah fine. I'm tired and not in teh fun and wacky way.Nope, just the bitter and cranky way. Murr. Either way, the cookies are delicious. You should have some. But you'd have to find me first! Bwahaha.

Anyhoo.

I LOOK AWAY FROM THE CAMERA WHEN I GET INGREDIENTS

So for these cookies you'll need:

1 stick (~125 g) butter
275 g brown sugar
1 tsp vanilla
2 eggs
40ish g cocoa powder
250 g flour
1 tsp salt
1/2 tsp baking soda
70 g white sugar
70 g confectioner's sugar
Cinnamon

Yeah, that's right. Not 1 tsp cinnamon. Not 80 tonnes cinnamon. Just "Cinnamon." I don't know how much I put in. Wanna make something of it? I will straight up take you down right now. By which I mean I will fall asleep and you'll be all, "Aw that's adorable, maybe I should take a nap too," and just like that I've snatched a draw from the jaws of victory. That's how I roll.

SOME STAY DRY

So the first thing you're going to do is measure out your sugar- I didn't have tightly packed brown sugar, so I measured the same volume as 300 g sugar. Clearly I am the paragon of science, because there's no way I could have added the incorrect volume like that, right? Anyhoo, you mix in your butter and vanilla until it's reasonably smooth- you can probably do better with an electric mixer than I could with my wooden spatula.

After that, you're going to beat in the eggs one at a time. This is going to leave you a really soupy batter, but it won't stay that way for long. Oh boy will it not stay that way for long. And I'll try to fill some space for the next picture rather than actually do something sensible like adjusting the size of the soupy picture. That would just be absurd, am I right? Of course I am, I'm writing the blog I MAKE THE RULES I AM THE LAW. LAAAWWWWW.

Ahem. And now back to the recipe.

See, you're going to combine the rest of your dry ingredients (flour, cocoa, salt, and baking soda) and then add them to this soupiness. I overestimated the soupiness and threw it all in at once. I would recommend doing it gradually just for the sake of ease. Because damn is cocoa dry. That stuff was a pain to mix in. And that's around when I threw in the fabled Cinnamon. How much? Uhhh two or three puffs from the can thing? I don't know. I could have added more, I could have added less. Stir it some more once you add however much I didn't say to add. And now here comes the hard part.

Are you ready?

You put it in the fridge (covered) for a few hours. THE HORRORS!

No seriously. The horrors. That's what's about to happen.

BUT OTHERS FEEL THE PAIN

You may notice the difference in the quality across these
balls. Well, once they start getting warmer, they get a whole
lot gooeyer (gooier?) more gooey, and as such much harder
to handle.

See, after you take it out of the fridge, you need to roll the dough into balls a bit more than an inch across. This goes pretty well at first because the dough is cold. And then you start running into visceral horror. Your hands are covered in batter. You try to do something to get it off but it keeps spreading. Soon it's enveloped you and you've become one of the chocolate people I mean what no that's ridiculous there's no such thing as chocolate people and this recipe is TOTALLY SAFE AND YOU SHOULD NOT WORRY ABOUT ANY SPORES OR SUCH THINGS. YOU WILL BE ASSIMILATED AND DELICIOULATED. Either way, keep on making those balls. Once you're done, put them back in the fridge while you get ready for the next step.

Measure about 60-70 g white sugar into a shallow bowl or some other surface/receptacle. Now, take the balls and roll them in the sugar. The problem I had here was finding space for all my balls. There were just too many and they were too big for me to fit on the plate that I had, and things got a bit dicey for a bit. Thankfully things came out just fine. And now, put them back in the fridge.

Now measure out about the same amount of confectioner's sugar as you did white sugar. I tried to sift mine, but failed for about half of it, so do as you like I guess. Also prep a cookie sheet with some butcher paper or some such. Anyhoo, now roll the balls in the confectioner's sugar and maybe pat off the excess sugar before putting it on the cookie sheet. Set your oven for 375 F/T6/190 C, wait for it to heat, and cook these bad boys for about 8 minutes. Mine came out with rather soft and chewy centers, which I like. Plus they just looked good to begin with.

Going in!

So far I haven't tasted too much of the cinnamon- maybe it got concentrated in one dose somewhere. Also, the recipe I had said it would make 36 cookies. Considering how much of the dough I ate before it hit the pan, it really makes like 72 cookies at least. And that's with a smaller (half) amount of butter than it technically called for. Not that I'm complaining- I needs food for the bus ride to Belgrade. (Note: These cookies were ALMOST called the Belgrade Bus Bombers, but I thought that might be in questionable taste/tempting fate a bit much for my liking.)

Coming out!

BLOGMAS DAY 7: BURBLING THROUGH THE TULGY WOOD

Today was the first time in a while where I just lazed in Combs all day. It was really quite worth it. I got some sun, baked some cookies, and just relaxed for a while. It certainly helped that Bev wasn't around so I didn't feel like I was getting judged for every little thing I was doing (regardless of whether or not she actually DOES judge me for that sort of thing). I should probably have done something somewhat productive, but I'm fine with spending the day as I did. The reward of chocolate cookies was well worth it, and I have enough eggs to make it through the next couple of days on omelettes. Not the healthiest thing ever, but it's cheap and effective without creating absurd amounts of leftovers to go bad while I'm out for break.

Good Lord am I tired. Thankfully I'll just be doing a Regalia for my proper post to keep from being up TOO terribly late (unless I decide to watch a movie or some such). Anyhoo, since I SHOULD look some stuff up to appease my parents regarding a car (thinking a mid-size SUV like a RAV4, but I recognize the advantages of a sedan as well), I might as well try to do this quickly so I can move to more productive climes.

And to send you guys out, have a picture of an amusing (mis-)translation.

BLOGMAS DAY 6: REEFER BLOGMAS

Okay, fine, I'll talk about Amsterdam. GEEZ.

The week of my birthday, I played hookie (okay, fine, I rearranged my schedule and had to work 3 days this week. Potato tomato or whatever I'M TAAARRRRED) from work (see, I should have put that BEFORE the last parenthetical to make things make more sense. That's how taaaarrrred I am. But I do say something at all. Even when I'm taaaarrrrred, baby.), and then between long parentheticals I spent a few days in Amsterdam. I'd wanted to go to Amsterdam since, well, before I got to France, but the time kept slipping away and train tickets kept being super pricey. Of course, during the weekdays, they're less pricey, and that's why I rearranged work. Aren't you glad you read this little story? I'm sure you feel incredibly enlightened now. This blog should be renamed the Buddha-factory for how enlightened I made you. Of course, then all of you meet each other and kill each other, which kills my readership, so dang.

YAY FOR SUPER OBSURE REFERENCES TO MILDLY OBSCURE QUOTES.

Ahurm.

Anyhoo, I took the train into Amsterdam Monday morning, and boy were my arms tired. Of course, my legs weren't, so I got to the hostel, checked in, blah blah blah, and figured that I'd go walk around the city and maybe check out that Rijktsmuseum I'd heard so much about why not. And that's when things started to take a turn for the mediocre. See, apparently most of the museum was under renovation. There were still some pretty paintings, but I'm not super huge on that time period, because I don't see the huge deal on some of the artists. Don't worry, I saw Night Watch and all that, but it didn't seem worth the almost 13 euros I paid to get in (for reference, the Louvre is cheaper, I believe, and that's if you don't get any of the discounts; the Amsterdam museums offered NO discounts and were still super expensive).

Still, it's a very photogenic city, and there was some pretty groovy interplay between sunlight and clouds, as should be showing up to the left if I manage to insert the picture correctly. Oh, also in front of the Rijktsmuseum I had a very delicious and quite well loaded (they let you do the toppings yourself; I'm a sucker for them) hot dog (I really should stop splitting my modifiers like this, but sometimes a bit of rebellion is good, right? Bwaha, cringe my English degree-ed members of the family/friends. Of course, you're probably already cringing at my blatant disregard for grammar, spelling, words, and everything else about the language, so carry on). It was, as I said in the last sentence before I got distracted by monologuing about my sinister plan to be mean to the English language, delicious. Also cheap. Amsterdam as a city is not super cheap, aside from the food. And for me, that's enough. Plus, it's free to look at the pretty buildings, which is fun for a bit. And of course there's the red light district, which I saw in daylight and at night. That was fun times. Wasn't interested, but it's always amusing to see the guys doing the vague walk of shame and see the various trends. On a later occasion we inadvertently wandered into the blue light district, but thankfully I noticed that and we left (which was pretty good considering how much coffee I'd had, as can be seen below).

Caffinated Rob thought this would be a great picture.
He wasn't totally wrong maybe?

Anyhoo, I met some groovy people at the hostel, and the next day I met some more. We decided to wander around until we found the Van Gogh Museum, and maybe we stopped off someplace before that and had some coffee. I feel like I might have enjoyed the museum more if I hadn't been so wonked by the caffeine- they give you some potent stuff in Amsterdam. Of course, I've heard from other sources that it's honestly a pretty underwhelming museum, which is a shame, because it's even more than the Rijktsmuseum. Anyhoo, we got out of there, had some delicious food (because it was my birthday and darn it, I deserved a chocolate covered waffle with ice cream).

We walked back from there and saw many strange things. Namely:

A chess board I saw fit to photograph twice...

... and a gaggle of Dutch soccer fans.

And then I helped one of my friends get a bus ticket, because it seemed like the right thing to do. Not that he needed help, but everyone else was having a nap, and I was in no mood to nap. I was travelling, by God. Seeing the world, spending my last summer seeing things that, well, many other people had seen. But I would know now! And then I'd have a tangent where I'd seem to say great things that really weren't all that great! Because I'm running on empty (runnin on)! But yeah, we got the bus ticket, ran into more soccer fans on the train back, and then got food. And of course, it's still my birthday at the time, so I figure I'll have something solid. And boy, did I.



Worth. It.

 See, down the road from our hostel was a Wok to Walk and a Burger Bar. I tried the Wok to Walk the night before, and was initially craving that for dinner. Buut I figured that it had been a while since I'd had a burger, much less a good one. See, Burger Bar gives you a choice of beef, toppings, everything. I went with (iffin I recall correctly): Large size Black Angus (didn't spring for Kobe), bacon, onions, mushrooms, and cheddar, in addition to the lettuce, tomato, and sauce already on there. I also got fries with ketchup and mayonnaise, if only to see what the fuss was about with mayonnaise.

After that, there was some drinking (probably too much spending on booze, but birthday!), followed by a run for some bakery snacks and a small nightcap before going to bed. And of course, we got some pictures, so that was fun. Sure, you can see them. I didn't give any with last night's post, so you can have extra tonight.

Yes, it's blurry. It's hard to take a good picture at night on landscape. Not enough photons and all.

Clearly good times were had.

Of course, the next day, I had initially planned to go to the Anne Frank House. Buuut I went to the Resistance Museum in Lyon a couple of weeks before, and I didn't really want to get all depressed. Also, please don't crucify me, but I don't see the huge deal about Anne Frank in particular. So I went to the park with hostel friends for a bit before I had to run back to catch my train. It was a pretty park, and they were going to do some various substances there- I might have joined were I not going to need to keep reasonably composed on a train (almost said composted, which is what you do to your train tickets hahaha what an incredible coincidence OR IS IT).

Of course, I spent less time than I might have initially liked in Amsterdam, but I was honestly pretty happy with how long I spent there. I certainly spent too much on food on my birthday, but I guess that'll be a trend for the next few weeks- gotta profite before I leave France, right? All in all, I found the company incredible, but the city was rather meh. Pretty buildings, but pricey (and not super great) museums, and honestly not an incredible amount to do, especially compared with a lot of the other French cities I've visited. Maybe I didn't see enough- I know there were some other art museums out there, but I guess I wasn't in speedy traveller mode that week, coming off of Normandy with the folks and all. Anyhoo, to avoid ending on a total downer, I guess I'll have another little bit of Nutella and throw up a picture of a windmill- can't go to the Netherlands without windmills!

Maybe that's one in the background? Or maybe I just didn't get a picture of any. Okay fine, this ends on a downer.

BLOGMAS DAY 6: GETTING BACK TO BASICS

Well, guess who just got home?

That's right, this guy. Thankfully I was able to catch the RER (though not those kids running through those fields- I'm such a phony), but I still had to make the 20 to 30 minute walk to get back here. I'm quite tired, having helped a friend move across town today and then having spent some time museuming it up. Including watching a really disturbing movie about how Jewish people should move to Poland. Good, but seriously disturbing. Of course, there was also the duster thing on the pole that you could make jump up and down, and that was good for a smile.

Anyhoo, I'm running on some mad fumes and a couple of spoonfuls of Nutella (which I should really cut down on, because I'm like halfway through this jar already). So let's find something to talk about for a real post before I crash out for a while.

Seriously, crash out for a while?

Like I said, MAD FUMES.

BLOGMAS DAY 5: FIIIIIIIIIIIVE BREAAAAAAAAAD POOOOOOOOSTS

Again, I'm not going to ACTUALLY do 5 posts. I really wasn't much in the mood to do another travel post (though I still need to hit: Barcelona, Munich/Passau, Lyon, Niort/La Rochelle, Nice, and Amsterdam, and I'll have the Balkans to hit once I get back from break. Fun times.), and I'd been batting this one around in my head for a while. Iiiit honestly won't turn out too well, most likely. It's about bread.

First off, I love baguettes. The best bread that I've had in the States was always the "Bake your own" bread that you could get in grocery stores for a couple of bucks- they always had that nice crustiness on the outside and a really good fluffiness inside. Yeah, there's the "French bread" stuff you can get, but that's usually a lot drier inside and just generally less fluffy. So when I got to France (namely Combs), I figured I might try to find myself a bakery to frequent and be ever so French.

This was of course before I realized that there was no way in Hell that I would ever seem "ever so French" to an actual French person. I have a rather noticeable American accent- okay, I'll amend that; I've got a rather noticeable accent. I THINK it's a pretty noticeable anglophone accent, because I do tend to get American or English in most cases.

Also, for those of you hoping for pictures, I don't think they're coming. I don't tend to take pictures of my bread. It's a shock, I know, considering I take pictures of just about ANYTHING else.

Aaanyway. I started by using some bread from the local supermarkets, just as a stopgap until I found a bakery I really liked. And then I found how much the actual bakeries charge. It's like 80 centimes at the cheapest place you can find, and it's more often 85 at the cheaper ones. Meanwhile, the bread at the supermarkets (and I'm talking stuff that, as long as you don't leave it out, is as good as the bake your own stuff from the States), is 29 centimes at the cheap supermarket that I go to for food. Their top of the line loaf? 59 centimes. They're pretty good, and while I felt bad about not having "my bakery," I was okay with avoiding the spending.

To be fair, I DID try a bakery near the nicer supermarket. Their baguettes were 85 centimes, and they weren't bad. Problem was that I don't usually eat a whole baguette unless it's a freaking meal. So, of course, I'd freeze the baguette and break off a piece to heat up in the oven while I was making dinner. And that's when I found the big deal-breaker on a bunch of "real" baguettes. They taste really metallic. Not like you're eating a penny, but like you forgot to take off some foil or something. There's just a vaguely metallic taste, and it's not pleasant.

So I kept on keeping on with the LIDL (cheap supermarket) baguettes, which for a cheap supermarket are freaking AWESOME. This I found out a few weeks ago when I went to the Cora (think Wal-Mart?) to get some baking stuff (strawberries are hard to find in these parts until recently, and yes it should have been were, but I needed some breaking of the fourth wall. The typo afforded me the opportunity to go all Kool Aid man on itOHYEAAAAH), and I needed bread. I opted to pick up a couple of baguettes there, where it was a bit more expensive, so of course it would be better, right? That's the way the world works, yeah?

Ohh young Rob from a few weeks ago. How your naïveté amuses me.

It was the worst bread I've had in France. It was super dry, ridiculously crackly on the crust, and just generally terrible. I was torn between hating it and not wanting to eat it, and hating it and wanting it the hell out of my food inventory. I also refuse to trash food if at all possible.

Anyhoo, this continued for a while until I guess last week? Maybe I was on my way home from the train station from Amsterdam. I dunno. Anyway, I went to a bakery near the LIDL, which is run by some Muslim folks, so they're open on Sundays and closed on Thursdays. YAY MORE DRAGONFORCE WACKINESS IS ABOUT TO ENSUE GUYS.

Okay, so I bought one of their baguettes, which are 85 centimes, and they're freaking amazing. They've got a nice butteriness, though not like you're eating a stick of butter. They've got fluffiness out the wazoo. Seriously, they'd give Rolf a run for his piano-playing money, and anyone who has watched ANY Muppet movie with me over the last couple of years has probably had to endure me talkinga bout how I just want to hug Rolf because good Lord is he fluffy. They've got the perfect sort of crust, and they have ZERO metallicity. Yes, metallicity isn't a word, but it is now, and it applies to bread so BOOM. Like I said, wackiness.

Even better, I went in on Sunday to grab some more bread, and unfortunately they didn't have any. By which I mean they didn't have any READY, but there would be some in a few minutes. I waited around and got to get 2 fresh baguettes. Fresh out of the freaking oven. Ohmfugacitilomminatommina. Good Lord were they good. Really my only complaint is that they tend to flatten really easily, but that just makes for easier tartines (AKA my breakfast- I switched from jam to Nutella this week because I was out of jam and wanted to eat some Nutella before I left). Seriously, it's probably the best thing about Combs, aside from the mini golf course.

Not that I've been to the Mini Golf, of course. HA PUN NOT INTENDED BUT STILL HA. I just walk past that sign and wonder how they manage to make that cost-effective in freaking Combs. Of course, I did see Laser Tag out in Orly today, which was a weird sight.

Anyhoo, I figure there are 4 things I need to indulge in out the wazoo before I head out of France (May 8, by the way, so 31 days- yipes). Okay, 5- travel is a fifth, but I don't think I'll get to with all I want to do in Paris before leaving.

1. Bread- lots of these baguettes, because damn.
2. Cheese- I've tried: Cantal, Morbier, Comté (barely), Chèvre, Tomme, Roquefort, and Emmenthal. This... is not sufficient, given that I live within a day's walk of Brie. Seriously- there are signs for it in Combs.
3. Dried sausage- I had some FANFREAKINGTASTIC saucisson at the Salon d'Agriculture, and I need to have as much as I can before heading back Stateside and not being able to get it anymore. Also, I read this tonight, and it's made me crave it something fierce.
4. Wine- I've had a few that I really like, and of course lots at the Salon de Vin. Cheap wine is fine with me, and I've found a few reds that are really intriuging, including the Tourraine that I'm working through at the moment.

Hey, I worked 5 into the post. Go me.

BLOGMAS DAY 5: FIIIIIVE BLOOOOOOOOOOOOOG POSTS

Okay, I'm not REALLY doing 5 posts, unless I hit one ridiculously good flow. Seeing how I tend to burn out after one real post, I have a feeling that these things won't happen. Oh crap. I was GOING to pause my iPod, but Storming The Burning Fields just came on, and I can't just pause Dragonforce- their keytarist might come after me (seriously, their synth guy comes out with a keytar sometimes during concerts).

Anyhoo, it's day 5 (of a theoretical 7), and I've actually kept up! This calls for a celebration! So I think I'll call my purchase of Nutella a few days ago a celebratory one. On that note, I actually thought I was allergic to Nutella when I first bought this thing (which would have been inconvenient). See, I bought the thing, and soon after I started getting a sore throat, so I was thinking that I might have developped a mild nut allergy, which could of course get worse, and heaven forbid if I start needing an epi shot every time I have a PB&J (note to the home readers: I put a mad amount of PB on a PB&J, and I tend to eat them rather frequently. Also apparently Dragonfroce solos are good for me typing quickly. Good to know. Additionally additionally, I brought up this me manqueing (FRANGLISH LOOK IT UP) of PB in the teachers' lounge Tuesday, and they told me that there is PB in France. They don't recall that it generally is crunchy and comes in iiiiiiitty bitty jars that do not cut it for a manly man like me what cuts things finely, eats Yorkie Bars, smokes with cigarettes, and don't take no guff. And THAT is what I call a parenthetical.). Thankfully, it seems it was just a cold, given the mucus, and due to the warm (80s brah) weather and my propensity towards layers since the winter, I've been sweating this monster off rather well so far.

Of course, after that long post, I should make a real post, shouldn't I? I suppose I should. We'll see what it ends up being. And sure, I'll give a picture. Have a cartoon of my heritage what was in the Edinburgh hostel.

BlOGMAS DAY 4: A NEW POST It is a period of civil blog.

So when we last left our intrepid blogmas story, our mildly psychotic blogger had been getting ready to go to Edinburgh via bus, mainly because it's cheaper. Heck, entirely because it's cheaper.

He also had his handy camera.

So after getting to the station and finding that the railman did not in fact say you've got the wrong location (and also almost forgetting to add a "w" to wrong, which would have been terrible), he sat on a bus. For a veeeery long time. Thankfully he had apportéd some snacks of various sorts- probably a Yorkie bar (NOT FOR GIRLS), and he had La Cage Aux Folles, which was rather disappointingly quickly finished. He also had his handy ability to sleep. After seeing that yes, obesity DOES happen in Europe (specifically Newcastle by the looks of things- sorry to any Newcastlers Newcastlians Newcastlites people from Newcastle that might be reading this), he managed to make it to Edinburgh and go find his hostel. He got his ridiculous self checked in and fed on Lord knows what before trying to get a good night's sleep. Yeah, this is one boring intrepid hero. Can you even be boring and intrepid? I don't even know anymore.

Anyhoo, the next morning started out with a walking through the park by Prince Street and walking up and down the Royal Mile and resisting the mild temptation to buy a kilt or other kitschy souvenirs for people with Scottish heritage. In that regard, I succeeded (though I did get another wonderful souvenir- more on that to come). Around this point, I realized that I had no idea what to do next. Thankfully, I had asked people for ideas and didn't just decide to write a really dry blog post about it, because that would be kinda lame. And by kinda, I mean ridiculously so, especially if I commented about how it was a dry post in the middle of it. I mean, meta can be great and all, but seriously guy?

Hooom let's find some flow again. Is it here now? Let's say that it is. Besides, now I've got enough written to legitimately be able to go onto a new picture without feeling like I'm cheating you out of MY PHENOMENAL WORDS FOR I AM BRIAN BLESSED.

Ahurm.

Yes, so I found that I had very little idea of what to do- I didn't want to hit up the art museums just yet, and was a bit far away to go to the Nelson Monument at that point, so I figured that I'd man up and pay the many pounds to do the whiskey tour. That's right.

You also get to take absurd self-photos in mirrors. Or
maybe that was just me.

Rob went to the Scottish Whiskey Experience. And hopefully isn't misspelling "whiskey" every time he types it. I actually recommend going- the first part is a bit Disney-ish in that it's all "OH HAY GUYS I'M A GHOST AND I'MA TELL YOU HOW THEY MAKE WHISKEY WITH HOLOGRAMS AND A BARREL RIDE AND SMELLS," but after that they actually start to talk about the differences in the whiskey styles, and of course you get to taste one and see an absurd collection. And hey, there's a discount in the whiskey store, which was also tempting, but I didn't want to have to deal with carrying a bottle on the flight back. Plus they were still like 40 pounds. No thank you.

Aaanyhoo, I went to a writing museum that was not really worth the nothing that I had to pay to get in, and then I guess I tooled around Prince Street and New Town for a while before settling on a pub, because goddammit I was going to have me some haggis. Little did I know that I'd also be having neeps and tatties and a Scottish beer. (Well, I probably did know that deep down, but I guess I didn't want to admit it to myself.) It was extremely delicious and I got to talk to a rather drunk Welsh couple that was visiting the city- it was an... interesting experience. Fun conversation, but they were certainly not sober in the least.

Anyhoo, the next day I DID go to that park with the Nelson Monument, and because I hadn't done enough stair and hill work between all the stairs and hills I'd been doing, I decided I'd climb the monument and take some pictures of the city. It was a very pretty park, and I got to watch the ball drop and even got a picture of it (okay fine one before dropping and one after). So yeah, that was fun. Of course, then there were art museums which were okay, but I mean, I'm living in Paris- I can go to any number of museums and see some pretty awesome art. I went to the Orsay today on a freaking whim. It takes some good art to impress me, my fellow Scotsmen. Plus they were doing the whole "guilt you into donating" thing that really turned me off the whole experience.

But! I did get to top that off with a g-g-g-ghost tour. I feel like there was something between the ghost tour and this other stuff. Maybe I picked up something at the store? I don't even know man. I probably walked around for a while. Anyhoo, we went in the catacombs down there, and a poltergeist drained my batteries.

Seriously. So in the last room on the tour, there's supposed to be this poltergeist that is super misogynistic, so they put the guys on one side and the girls on the other. Apparently I was in the worst place to be standing, because I felt what may have been a drip of water on my head, and then the hairs on the back of my neck were standing up something fierce. When I left, my fully charged iPod was no longer fully charged, and my camera and phone had both lost a bar of battery. Maybe I wasn't aware of how well/poorly they were charged, I dunno. But I'll stick to the story of  "Poltergeist drained my battery," in a manner similar to this.

Anyhoo after that I grabbed some proper fish and chips (wherein I also got carded, so groovy). (Not for the fish and chips- for the beer I had with it.) And the next day I had to leave.

BUT FIRST!

I mean come on guys. I was raised Presbyterian. There is no WAY I'm going to Edinburgh without hitting up St. Giles. And hit it up I did. I really liked the church- it did a really good job of having that cathedral feel while also keeping a distinctly Protestant-and-not-Anglican feel to it. There was some extremely modern stained glass, and it was just generally a cool building and a great experience for me to cap off the trip.

Of course, I wasn't quite done yet- I went and picked up some food for the way back (including a pie, which I ate on the train platform at the airport), and at the airport, I needed to work through the rest of my pounds, which resulted in me buying some delicious snack food, including chips and probably another Yorkie Bar (NOT FOR GIRLS)- I do so love Yorkie Bars apparently.

Oh! But I didn't tell you about my awesome purchase which happened between St. Giles and the airport! I finally got a water bottle! See, in Paris nobody uses reusable water bottles it seems, and finding them requires spending like 20 euro for a 0.6 L (like 3 cups) water bottle from a bike store. But on Prince St. there was an outdoor store that was having a sale, and I picked up a 1 L aluminum (in Davidson red, though now it's dented Davidson red with silver bits) water bottle for 2.99 pounds. It has been treating me quite well ever since. We're very happy together and you're just jealous. But it's okay- I'll leave you with a picture of some junk in the trunk that I saw at the airport.

I didn't enter the sweepstakes to win this car. Shipping it to the states would have broken me.

BLOGMAS DAY 4: TONIGHT WE BLOG IN HELL

I had not intially meant the subject as a pun. But seriously. It's April in Paris, and it feels like Davidson in March. For those of you who didn't go to Davidson and just generally missed out on basically the greatest school out there in every way imaginable (not that I'd be biased or anything), this is a wonderful thing. It was extremely comfortable out, and there was even sun. So while I get myself ready to blog about what's next, let's throw in a picture I took whilst walking along the Seine.

Well, this might take a second, because I actually have to put it on my computer first I suppose.

Okay, let's see if I can rip it straight from the card...

I apparently can. We have a whole new paradigm.

BLOGMAS DAY 3: I REALLY HAVE NO IDEA WHAT TO WRITE ABOUT

I was briefly going to talk about cultural perspectives and such, but then I was like eff that noise. Let's talk about London, which I basically just drew out of a hat just now. Also I just got reminded that I promised you pretty pictures. So I guess we'll talk about London.

I headed out towards London... well, later than I'd thought. I actually screwed up and missed my initial (cheapish for Eurostar) train, and had to buy another ticket for a substantial sum in Gare du Nord. But then I got on the train and started sleeping, which sounds freaking amazing right now. NOTE TO READERS: ROB IS TIRED. THERE WILL LIKELY BE MANY REFERENCES TO WANTING TO SLEEP.

Actually, Rob's going to go grab a spoonful of Nutella, because that sounds delicious right now. Details as they come. Okay, so I had like 3 spoonfuls of Nutella, and I feel much more alert, so let's see if I can do this before my sugar high turns into a crash. Oooh rah.

This view was like 10 minutes from my hostel. Also, I feel
like there should be Tchaikovsky.

Anyhoo, I was staying in a hostel in Lambuth (which was in a pretty decent location, all things considered), and given how pricey transport gets in London, I decided that I would walk just about everywhere (once I had gotten to my hostel of course). Starting with the British Museum. I really wish I had a map to show you how absurd my walking was.

Pictured: Not a children's toy.

Of course, due to the absurdity of my walking, it was rather late before I got to the museum itself, so I didn't get to see too much. I did see some sweet Elgin marbles (fun story: Rob thought that the Elgin marbles were not things made of marble, but rather really nice spherical things that were from Greece that looked like things kids from the 19th Century would play with. Rob has some silly ideas about history and art. Silly Rob.), and was intruiged by the British justifications for not giving them back. Overall though, I was tired and thirsty, because it took me for freaking ever to find the darned place, and I'd also just gotten off the train a few hours ago. So I wandered back to the hostel (by way of Parliament and Big Ben), and went to the nearby supermarket to grab a... pie I think? I feel like I got a pie there, and possibly something for a dessert-ish deal. It was good. I found that I quite like pies. I still should make one, but not before I'm back stateside most likely.

Gray Room or something? Yeah, I feel like I remember
internally singing some Damien Rice, so Gray Room.

Of course, after that, I crashed rather hard. Next day, I got up and got my first serious jibe about being an American. Seriously. It was from a British schoolkid. It was basically her scoffing at how I'm American. But it was made up for by the fact that I had an absurdly huge breakfast, which was great- you don't realize how much you miss cereal until you grab some at a hostel (note: Rob doesn't eat cereal at home in Europe because it requires buying milk, more fridge space, and time to do dishes in the mornings). Then I headed out and did the Tate Modern, which had some pretty stuff, but let's just pick one (more are in the Picasa albums). And there it is off to the left, but you probably saw it because it's off to the left of the start of this paragraph since I'm lazy like that, or something. The crash has started.

Anyhoo, after that I went a-wandering for a while because I didn't want to pay for the tour of The Globe, but then I recalled that Dad/Cousin Bob/possibly Cousin Susan/Aunt Martha/Zack/Ian/The cast of Macbeth from Houston/Mrs. Parker-Lawrence/others would quite possibly kill me.

I wasn't too disappointed actually. The tour guide was really good (and kinda cute- should have tried for a phone number or a pub date or something, but that would require a level of courage that is JUST TOO MUCH FOR OL' ROB- but maybe not NEW ROB. Maybe I should call Ol' Rob Rob Classic. Worked for Coke, but I don't drink Coke, so how well did that really work out for them? This tangent was brought to you by the number Platypus.), and we got to see the stage for the (then) upcoming production of Macbeth, which was cool.

And then I went to a pub. Specifically, the Malborough Arms, recommended to me by one Kara Stewart. It's up somewhere- I could find the underground if I had a map/googled one, but I'll just say that it was pretty solid. I wish I had gotten to try their treacle tart, but alas, such things could not be. I did however have a phenomenal steak and ale pie and tried several British beers there. I also got to talk to the also cute bartender about the sketchy probably married dude who was hitting on her (I went there three times while in London- good times). But you don't care about that, do you? No, you care about the pie and such. So fine. Here it is.

ARE YOU NOT ENTERTAINED?

I was VERY entertained.

Anyhoo, the next day was another day of walking and museums. Namely, I walked from: Lambuth, up to Buckingham Palace, over to Nelson Square or whatever the name of that memorial place is, and then over past a park to the Natural History Museum, the Science Museum, and the V & A. All in all, I was a bit museumed out by that point, which is tough for me to do. Natural History and Science Museums were a bit too kid friendly- there was some interesting stuff in both, but it wasn't detailed enough for me to have sufficient nerdgasms over it. V & A had lots of pretty art, but it was rather huge, and my feet hurt. Seriously- I'll count myself lucky if my shoes last through when I leave (I'm still hoping they do- I want to wait until I'm stateside to buy more shoes).

And of course, if your feet are feeling rough, what better way to spend your last day in London than doing lots more walking?

Yeah, my feet will live, even if I'm wearing orthodics at 25. Totally worth it. Anyhoo, on my last day, I went around and looked at the Tower of London (but didn't pay the absurdly high price to go in), and then decided that I wanted to do some stairs. Sooo I did the Monument (which apparently few people have heard of), and the Tower Bridge. Basically, I got a lot of stair-work in, and I had some pretty great views, like the one to your left (taken from the Monument, which I guess I did after the Tower Bridge. It was basically me paying a few pounds for the privelege of climbing about 300 stairs and taking pictures at the top.

ALL THOSE STAIRS.

Anyhoo, after all that, I still wanted to do some walking, so I did Evensong at Westminster Abbey (but didn't have time to look at pretty graves), and then headed off on a pretty solid Jack the Ripper Walking Tour that was led by a Beefeater. He was worth the 7 pounds. And after another beer at the pub and the walk home, I got a good night's sleep before catching the bus to Edinburgh the next day.

BUT THAT'S ANOTHER BLOGMAS MIRACLE GUYS.

BLOGMAS DAY 3: NOT QUITE HUMP DAY

Here we  are again with another filler post and an extra space betwixt we and are (they just got through a messy divorce. Custody battles over the apostrophe are ongoing.), and boy howdy are my arms tired.

Actually I'm just tired in general. Giving up coffee for Lent was probably a good call, but it is brutal some days. Furthermore, being so tired makes it hard to come up with a subject. I exhausted my regalia stuff/baking with the coffee cake last night (really, I should have baked something Monday/should bake something tomorrow, but I have no ideas. I also want some travel goodies for the bus ride to Belgrade on Monday afternoon/Tuesday morning), and I guess that leaves travel stories, but I have no idea what to use for it. I GUESS WE'LL FIND OUT WON'T WE. JOIN ME WON'T YOU?

Oh, you won't? That's lame of you. I don't like you anymore, LEAVE ME WITH MY WORDS AND CAPS LOCK AND WILD EMOTIONAL SWINGS.

I didn't mean that. Please stay. I have pretty pictures?

BLOGMAS: DAY 2, PART 2: FLESH AND BLOG AND STEPHEN COFFEE CAKETAT

Yeah, that was a reach on the title. Come and see it. It's quite incredible. You've got to see it.

I could have put a picture of Angel Bob from Doctor Who to better explain the title and that reference, but you're on your own there.Good times.

ANYHOO. I mildly like the name for the coffee cake, and can't think of a better one. Besides, strawberries remind me of Daleks right now. Or just Doctor Who in general. They're a very Doctor Who kind of fruit, don't you think?

I've only seen about 3 or 5 episodes of Doctor Who, by the way. I really have no place making these comments, but this is my blog, SO I DO WHAT I WANT.

Ahem.

On to the recipe.

STEPHEN MOFFTAT STRAWBERRY COFFEE CAKETAT

Okay, so before I start, this is a bit more complicated because I did the two parts (which will be revealed shortly) more or less in tandem. So things might get a bit dicey.

Anyhoo, I also just found out his name is Stephen Moffat. Oh well, now he won't be able to get me for libel or anything, given my extremely libelous comments that I've made thus far.

Additionally! Bev and Elmo are yelling. What else is new. Okay for serious let's get to the actual recipe, because this is freaking ridiculous.

Wow, I can't think of a good subject for the ingredients, and this is freaking me out something fierce.

Okay, here's a lame-ish one.

THE MIGHTY SONTARAN INGREDIENTS

For THE MIGHTY SONTARAN BATTER you will need:

250 g flour
80 g brown sugar
70 g white sugar
2 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp salt
1 tbsp cinnamon
115 g butter
7 "large-ish" (good Lord how did I make it as a chemist) strawberries, plus a lot more
1 egg
Around 250 mL milk
2 tsp vanilla

THE SOMEWHAT LESS MIGHTY THAN THE BATTER BUT STILL FORMIDABLE SONTARAN STREUSEL

30 g flour
70 g white sugar
70 g brown sugar
1 tsp cinnamon
55 g butter

EXTERMIBAKE

Going for the gusto.

So, for the batter, you'll want to start out by combining your flour, sugars, baking soda, and salt using a wooden spoon. I went for the gusto (you know, smoking and eating nibblies on the couch) by adding a tablespoon of cinnamon, and it didn't go badly. In tandem, I threw in the flour, sugar, and cinnamon for the streusel, because I wanted to cut in the butter all at the same time.

In retrospect, I should have left the butter in the fridge while doing so. It's hard to cube and cut in warmish butter, and for those of you who remember the repeated lessons in context clues that you likely got in public schools/standardized test prep, you've probably guessed that you have to cube and cut in that butter. It's a long process, but you can do it. Once it's in, you stir the mixtures (separately, of course) until they resemble coarse crumbs.

Now then, I know it's delicious (partly because I ate it already, since I made it a couple of weeks ago), set the streusel aside. It's better on the cake.

Take your strawberries, and sliver them. Make yourself feel like a man. Cut them nice and fine. Now stir them into the batter. It looks delicious, doesn't it? Keep working!

Now, crack an egg into a measuring cup (I know, it's weird, but bear with me). Add milk until the volume is about 1/4 L, so about (if I remember my conversions right) 1 cup of milk. Stir that over the crumbs until they're moistened. Take that business, and spread it into a greased cake pan nice and evenly.

At this point, you should still have a lot of strawberries, unless you're like me and were eating them along the way because you probably didn't eat breakfast or lunch or something like that. I'M NOT ANOREXIC I JUST CAN SAVE MONEY ON FOOD THIS WAY. Ahem. Sorry about that. Anyway, take those strawberries and cut them into rounds. Now put those rounds atop your cofee cake. Heck, I'll even put this into a chronology to torture you with how good it looks. Look at me, being all sadistic. I guess you could say I'm the happiest sadist, and if you said that it was an oxymoron I would ask where the hell you learned how to pronounce words, Madeleine L'Engle? And then I'd probably slap you, because seriously, that's not how you pronounce "sadist."

dunn dunnn dunnn

DUNN DUNN (BUM BUM BUM BUM BUM BUM BUM BUM)

NO. DO NOT EAT THE STREUSEL. BAD. PUT THAT BOWL BACK DOWN.

Now take the strawberry topped deliciousness and put it in an oven heated to T5-T6, which I guess is like 300-350 F. Depends on your oven I suppose. Anyhoo, leave it in for like 15 minutes.

Poison dart frog of the baking kingdom, I tell you.

Now take it out. See how it jiggles? That's baked goods' way of saying "IF YOU EAT ME I WILL BURN THE BAJEEPERS OUT OF YOUR TONGUE." As with many animals, we take these warnings as a sign to hug/cuddle/pet/lick/eat these things. Do not do so. Instead, offer your streusel as a delicious topping for your cake. Now put it back in the oven for another 25ish minutes or (of course) until it's done.







ANYTHING THAT HOLDS THE IMAGE OF A DELICIOUS CAKE WELL IT DOESN'T BECOME A DELICIOUS CAKE BUT IT'S STILL REALLY DELICIOUS LOOKING

I was pretty happy with how this whole thing turned out. The strawberries didn't manifest as much as I'd like, but it stayed really moist and was just really good for quite some time. My parents even got to try it, and they regaléd (unless they were doing the whole parental lying thing); Bev of course thought it was too heavy and insists that I should make something light. I maintain that she's missing the point of desserts and baking. Agree to disagree. But meanwhile, have some pictures of the finished cake!

I'd let it displace me in time. Wouldn't you?

The larynx thing would be a bit much though.

Seriously, I should stop referencing Doctor Who when I've seen so few episodes. BELIEVE THAT I'M A GEEK DANGIT.

BLOGMAS: DAY 2: DAY HARDER

We're now into day 2, and I mean, why not post a totally obvious filler post? It's totally worth it, right? Why would it NEED to be totally worth it?

Great, now I'm questioning my writing choices. This cannot bode well, unless it bodes INCREDIBLY well. I don't think it does though. Curses.

Did I seriously just say curses in a nonironic way, and then forget to put quotes around it when I talked about it in the following sentence/paragraph? This is what happens when I start reading French lit rather than Douglas Adams or Neil Gaiman or Chuck Klosterman.

Hooooooooooooom.

AND NOW SCROLL BACK UP TO SEE THE COFFEE CAKE POST. SERIOUSLY WHY ARE YOU READING THIS FIRST, THAT MAKES NO SENSE AT ALL.

But have a picture of something. What will it be? Let's find out.

VAGUELY ALBUM COVERY SHOT OF ROB AND HIS WATER BOTTLE IN THE MEDITERRANEAN, WHICH I MAY HAVE JUST MISSPELLED.