Back in the District

My my, it sure has been a while. The past two weeks were a whirlwind, and so I didn’t get a chance to document them as I was living them. So, what’s new? First of all, I’m now back in D.C. After a hectic move-out, a round of final goodbyes, and a two-day road trip, I’m finally living in an apartment where I’ll be staying for two whole years. I’ve got to say, it’s a lot easier to pack when one is not doing it during finals week and when bikes aren’t being transported inside the car. Not only did I manage to successfully pack everything that I brought back to Madison with me, but I also squeezed in a few extra boxes of books (which necessitated buying more bookshelves once I got to D.C., but that’s another story).

So if my bikes weren’t inside the car, where were they? I decided that it was time to invest in a bike rack for my car, and boy, did that give me a lot of heartache. Fortunately for me, the BUB was being shipped to D.C., so I only had to worry about the vintage mixte and the road bike. Still, that was plenty to worry about, since they are not cheap by my standards, so the loss would be significant. First issue: how do you keep them safe while traveling at 80mph on the highway? I was hesitant to put that much trust in an affordable bike rack, which was probably designed for shorter trips. The way I had the bikes tied up, I don’t think they could have been removed without taking the entire trunk off; still, I spent the first two hours glancing in the rear view mirror every five seconds, just to reassure myself that my babies were still safe. To my surprise, the handling of the car was not affected at all; I just had to give myself a tad of extra room when switching lanes.

All hung up.

Chicago brought a new set of problems. I had an interview, which required leaving my car in a garage somewhere…but this is downtown Chicago, people! Driving (and walking) around, I saw abandoned bike frames stripped of all parts on every block. As for garages, they aren’t constantly filled with people, most don’t take responsibility for theft…and if you’re gone for more than 5 minutes, a clever and well-prepared thief will certainly be able to do some damage. I got lucky and my bikes escaped unscathed, but I spent every second in Chicago worrying about it. The parking garage, however, gets major bonus points for this:

I was on the parking level for hogs.

Similarly entertaining parking levels.

As if Chicago wasn’t bad enough, my paranoia got worse. I didn’t have many trust issues when I stopped in some small town in Ohio for the night: small town folk tend to be decent, from what I hear. D.C., however, was another story. My roommate wasn’t getting home with my keys until the following morning, so I had to find someplace to spend the night. Now, there are a few people with whom I could have crashed, but I needed to be close to my bike-laden car, and all of those people live downtown, where parking is not a viable option. My solution? Spend the night in the Georgetown Safeway. I felt like Natalie Portman in Where the Heart Is (minus the pregnancy, of course). All went well, though, and my bikes are now safely in an underground garage in my apartment building. What an ordeal!

In other news: last week was OCI (On Campus Interviews) or, as one of my interviewers put it, law firm speed dating. Hundreds of suit-clad law students running from hotel room to hotel room to talk to recruiters — does that sound fun? That’s right. The worst part begins now, when people are waiting by their phones for callback interviews, desperately wanting to discuss their successes and failures with their classmates, but not doing so out of either respect or feelings of inadequacy. It’s stressful…but I’ll do anything to be in Boston next summer and after graduation.

The first week of class would have been uneventful, if not for The Tax Lawyer. (I swear, tax-obsessed Lawyer Boy must have put a hex on me a couple of years ago: not only am I now in law school, I’m working for a tax journal.) Good thing I like hunting down sources and checking citations; our first assignment would be quite stressful otherwise.

Last but not least, I kicked off my second year in D.C. with two first dates. They proved conclusively that although I can get along and have a very pleasant time with a wide variety of people, finding someone with whom I feel a romantic connection is like finding a needle in a haystack. Moreover, the hay in D.C. may be of very high quality, but I happen to be allergic to it (i.e., the men here are educated and accomplished, but I’m not willing to date lawyers and politicians). Will I fare better in Boston?

 

Minneapolis getaway

Now that my friends are scattered all over the country, it’s getting harder and harder to get together with some of them, especially the ones who are not originally from Madison and who don’t go back there for the holidays. Taking a trip to see a friend in another city is a rare treat, but boy, is it ever a treat!

This weekend Kiley and I visited Rachel in Minneapolis for a much-anticipated girls’ weekend. The trip couldn’t have come at a better time: Rachel is getting married next year, so the bridesmaids, including Kiley and myself, had to get fitted for their dresses ASAP. I’m pleased to report that they are quite nice and, thank goodness, not pink. I am not pleased to report, however, that my bust, waist, and butt measurements are not conducive to picking a dress size with any degree of certainty, as my waist and my butt differ by three whole dress sizes. Alterations are definitely a must.

No girls’ weekend would be complete without some kind of shopping trip, even a very brief one. Ours consisted of wandering through the Kitchen Window while waiting for our dinner reservations. I purchased a set of picnic wine glass holders — a must for anyone who frequents the Concerts on the Square. We also came across these gems:

Penguin soda machine.

Paella pan - only $249.99!

Dinner at Chino Latino was an interesting fusion of Asian and Mexican cuisines. The battered shrimp was to die for. But, more importantly, the drinks were incredibly festive:

Watermelon mojito. Behold the giraffe climbing up the watermelon slice!

Pineapple cocktail served in an actual pineapple.

I will have to remember the lovely presentation for when we host cocktail hours at our new apartment.

The rest of the weekend involved playing with Rachel and John’s new puppy Aldo (so precious!), hot tubbing it at our hotel, facials, spending a good chunk of the day at Mall of America — for the amusement park, mind you, not for the shopping — and watching bad TV during a tornado warning. All in all, a success.

I must say, however, that I was not terribly impressed with Minneapolis in general. Granted, I didn’t get to see a lot of it, but it seemed like we had to hop on the highway anytime we needed to go somewhere. I’m assuming that things are more accessible downtown or uptown and that those parts of the city are walkable/bikeable. Perhaps it’s because I’m used to not having major highways in the middle of Madison (the Beltline sort of loops around the city, although with all the expansion, in the future it could very well become in the middle rather than on the outskirts). Or perhaps it’s because the highway structure reminded me a bit too much of Dirty Durham. Regardless, I’m not a fan of that kind of layout.

 

Another trip wiser

Being a cheapskate when it comes to traveling requires some sacrifices, such as spending the night at the Bordeaux-Merignac airport, because the cheapest flight leaves at 6:30 in the morning, public transportation doesn’t run that early, and I’m not willing to shell out the cash for a taxi. However, you know that you’ve become a traveler extraordinaire when the airport custodian compliments you on your sleeping setup (a detachable purse strap can link several pieces of luggage together so that no single one can be easily snatched; a large scarf doubles as a blanket; a towel instantly provides you with a makeshift pillow, blanket, or sleeping pad if the airport chairs aren’t padded). It’s also a good (bad?) sign when the idea of traveling for 24 hours (night at the airport; three flights; train) doesn’t daunt you.

The one thing that always bothers me about traveling, however, is all the security. If I had a dime for every time TSA officials or their European counterparts asked me whether I had a laptop in my hand luggage…I realize that it’s their job, of course, but doesn’t the fact that I’m taking my 3-1-1 liquids baggie out of my suitcase indicate that I know the regulations well enough to take my laptop out as well?

Also, I wonder what the rationale is behind pricing in-flight snacks at $3…or €4. Last time I checked, the conversion rates favored a $4/€3 scheme.

 

Head, shoulders, knees, and toes

As what I can only assume was a cruel joke, Caitlin took me to her elementary school classes today. Perhaps I don’t interact with small schoolchildren frequently enough, but I found those French kids to be quite odd. Caitlin introduced me as her friend who is visiting from the United States. Their eyes lit up. One little girl immediately asked, “Est-ce que tu connais les stars?” That is, if I knew any stars. But wait, for pedagogical purposes, Caitlin told the kids that I only spoke English. The girl became visibly distressed and demanded to know how to ask the question in English, as if knowing whether I knew any celebrities was the most important thing in her life. Oh, kids.

And it got worse. At the end of Caitlin’s class, one of the boys ran up to me and, stretching his arms out toward me, demanded “des bises.” What choice did I have but to satisfy his demand? Can’t go around breaking young French boys’ hearts, can I? Sacre bleu.

 

All hail the snail

You’ve got to love a country where you can get €2.40 escargot in the frozen food section.

 

Adios, España

In store for us yesterday: a 3-4 hour bus ride from Valencia to Madrid and then a 10 hour overnight bus ride from Madrid to Bordeaux.

Caitlin turned out to be a wonderful travel partner. She even had the foresight to pack a lunch for us, though two paninis, two apples, and a pack of chocolate-filled cookies barely got us through the day. Thank goodness that there was a supermarket right next to the bus station. (NB: Camembert spread is not as good as it sounds; in fact, it does not taste like camembert at all.)

I had a brief flashback to law school at the French border, when three officers entered the bus with a drug-sniffing dog. United States v. Drayton, anyone? The dog must have found something, because one passenger was asked to get off the bus and have his luggage searched. For a moment, Caitlin and I thought that he was going to be detained at the border. How’s that for some excitement at 2 in the morning?