giving thanks in london

I was away from home this Thanksgiving. I decided to spend it with old friends in London. It had bee three years since my last trip to Europe and I couldn't wait any longer.

Within six hours of my arrival, my friend Sarah and I had the genius idea of hosting a Thanksgiving dinner party. We created a Facebook event and sent invites to no less than 26 people. Twenty-six people. What were we thinking?? It was only after the invitations were sent that we remembered our poor track record with the culinary arts.

Rewind seven or eight years. Sarah and I are high school students in Houston. We woke up one morning feeling particularly helpful and offer to make her mother a delicious omelet for breakfast. Her mother was delighted of course, but gently pointed out that the omelet we had made was really more like scrambled eggs.

So much for masters in the kitchen.

But we set off, only slightly deterred, scouring the local Sainsbury’s and Tesco for turkey, pumpkin, squash and cranberry sauce. Starting the night before and continuing into Thanksgiving Day we baked, chopped, roasted and stirred up a feast that we didn't know we were capable of.

In the end we had seven people, including ourselves – a much more manageable number than 26. I was the only American and, for several of the guests, it was their first Thanksgiving dinner. All in all, my first ever dinner party was a success. Yummy food (if I do say so myself) and old friends – so much to be thankful for!

Hope your Thanksgiving was wonderful, too.

a book club and we went to the woods

During my brief stint in Houston, I tried in vain to find a book club. I'm sure they exist, but I couldn't find the kind I was looking for. Maybe book clubs just aren't Texas' style. When I found out I'd be moving to Boston, I knew I'd have better luck.

Because one thing can certainly be said for New England: it has a great literary legacy. Emerson, Alcott, Hawthorne, Longfellow, Dickinson. Jeez, I could go on forever. What with this history of great writers and all the students with lofty literary pursuits teaming the city there had to be something!

And sure enough, I move to Boston - I find a book club. So easily I might add, it's laughable. I get the impression that there are more book clubs in the area than you can shake a stick at. And if that's the case I feel all the more lucky to have found the one I did. I've been with this group for six months and I love it. Great gals, good reads.

Every month we vote on the book we are going to read, we meet and discuss. Pretty standard, right? It's fun. While we don't always read books I would necessarily choose, I appreciate that I need to be taken outside my world of the classics every once in a while. If I had my way, that's all I would read (How can I possibly read Cormac McCarthy, when I haven't read anything by Tolstoy, Eliot or Dumas??? - This tends to be my train of thought. Not entirely logical, I realize, but so it is.). So, the book club has been good for me in that respect - I'm reading outside my box.

But this is not what I am here to write about. I'm here today to write about my book club's literary adventure at Walden Pond, the setting of Henry David Thoreau's two year stay in the woods that inspired his Walden, or Life in the Woods.

Locals will tell you that Walden Pond can get crowded to the point of unpleasantness, but we went a few weeks ago before the summer crowds would descend upon the pond in droves. It was a gorgeous day to contemplate nature in the style of Henry David. We visited the replica and the original sight of his cabin, walked the perimeter of the pond, climbed Emerson's Cliff and lazed upon a blanket soaking up the sun that we've seen so little of this Spring.

We were admittedly somewhat disappointed to find that Thoreau had not been far at all from Concord - that is to say, civilization. This great adventurer of a man was not isolated by any means and often took trips into town and entertained visitors. As historian Richard Zachs put it:

Thoreau's 'Walden, or Life in the Woods' deserves its status as a great American book but let it be known that Nature Boy went home on weekends to raid the family cookie jar. While living the simple life in the woods, Thoreau walked into nearby Concord, Mass., almost every day. And his mom, who lived less than two miles away, delivered goodie baskets filled with meals, pies and doughnuts every Saturday. The more one reads in Thoreau's unpolished journal of his stay in the woods, the more his sojourn resembles suburban boys going to their tree-house in the backyard and pretending they're camping in the heart of the jungle.*

But I suppose it is the symbol of what he was doing that remains the important thing. And because of his experiment in simple living, Walden Pond is now a state reservation and it's a pretty beautiful place to enjoy a sunny afternoon.

Walden Pond State Reservation
Open from 8 am to sunset
Visitor Center: 915 Walden St., Concord, MA
Tel: 978-369-3254
Parking: $5.00

* via http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Henry_David_Thoreau

it's about time

I am a few weeks away from my 6 month mark. Six months of living in Massachusetts. 4 ½ of those months were FREEZING. I’m not sure how I survived considering the places I’ve lived in the past 4 years. South of Spain, South of the US, South of China - I'm a Southerner, through and through. I was ill-equipped for the winter that I found myself thrown into. What was I thinking moving here in December??

Some how I made it.

Boston is now easing its way into something resembling warmth. Spring has sprung and the city is blooming. It’s absolutely beautiful (when it isn’t raining). And get this: the people here are friendly! Funny how sunshine and flowers can change a person’s disposition.

In my humble opinion, I deserve it.

venezuelan scouts walk to america

My new favorite blog is quickly becoming Shorpy.com. If you haven’t visited it yet, I encourage you to check it out – if only for a quick escape to yesteryear. The blog posts pictures from the end of the 19th through the 20th century. One of today’s pictures especially captured my traveler’s attention.

It is a photo of Rafael Angel Petit and Juan Carmona in Washington D.C. examining their boots (pretty awesome boots, I might add). The 20-something Venezuelan boy scouts are taking a breather after walking for 2 ½ years from Caracas, Venezuela to Washington D.C. They started their journey January 11, 1935 passed through Colombia, Panama, Costa Rica, Nicaragua, Honduras, El Salvador, Guatemala, Mexico, before arriving in the United States and getting to D.C. in June 1937.

The photo’s caption reads:

June 16, 1937. "Walk 800 miles to attend Boy Scout Jamboree. Two Venezuelan Boy Scouts, Rafael Angel Petit, left, and Juan Carmona, examining their boots after tramping 25 miles a day for two years in order to attend the Boy Scout Jamboree in Washington. They left Caracas Jan. 11, 1935, arriving in Washington today."

And one of the comments shares an article with the scouts' story which is definitely worth reading. I googled these two and came across a blog post in Spanish recounting the history of the Venezuelan Scouts with a special mention about this incredible journey. According to this account the scouts went through 12 pair of boots each.

This makes me wonder, if I had 2 ½ years to walk 800+ miles where would I start, where would I go and what would I see along the way?

hi folks, remember LVE?

November of 2007 was the culmination of my culture-shock in China. I didn't blog for a full 25 days.

I am writing to you now and it has been 75 days since my last post. Seventy-five. Judging by the information I have provided above, what does that say about how I've settled into New England? Let me tell you - it's been pretty rough.

But not really. It's actually been great. Horridly miserable winter aside, I've really been enjoying myself. So, why haven't I written in 75 days? There are several excuses that I could come up with, but none of them would be any good.

Let's just say I apologize and so, without further ado, LVE is back.

the economist in china

Waxy.org blogs about Translating 'The Economist' Behind China's Great Firewall.*

Apparently a group called the Eco Team is working to translate every article in The Economist into Chinese. The translated articles are put into pdfs and put online. And interesting way to get around the Cyber-nanny - there are plenty of articles in The Economist that the Chicoms would hate to see readily available in China.



*via Sinosplice

happy 牛 year, dear readers*

Monday was the celebration of the Chinese New Year. I can just imagine my old friends Kathy; Rose, Sarah and Catherine and all those other great friends that I met in China celebrating the Spring Festival and the month of vacation that they get. Most are probably spending time with their families in their hometowns right now. The kids have received their "lucky money" and they've enjoyed feasts of dumplings, fish and sweets.

It brings me back to my Chinese New Year which, ironically was NOT spent in China. I was in Laos with friends and we decided to celebrate by going bowling. To commemorate the festival we feasted on highly nutritious and moderately delicious Chinese ramen noodles. It was, granted, a bit anti-climactic, but pretty cool as well.





* " 牛" is the character for an ox, bull or cow. The pinyin is niú which is pronounced similarly to "new". Thus the play on words: "happy niú year". Get it? Pretty clever, eh? Yeah, not mine.