Jordi Hunts July 18, 2007
Today Brutus Jordi and I played together for about 15 minutes! Anyone who has ever met him knows that this a record amount of time (he is usually bored after 45 seconds-1 minute.) His favourite toy is his trusty twine ball. Actually, he’s more interested in the string end than the ball end.
Who are the people in your neighborhood? July 17, 2007
These are some people in mine:
Boy with bell
Every evening at 19:30, a little boy goes running up and down the streets in our neighborhood. M kept telling me about this ritual, and we came up with all sorts of theories about what he was doing. Our most convincing theory was that he was perhaps calling the neighborhood Muslims to evening prayers, but admittedly, we don’t actually know what time their evening prayers are. Tonight I actually got to see the ritual myself. We were sitting on our little balcony, and suddenly M said, “Here’s the boy with the bell!” I looked over the edge, and there he was running full speed, shaking the bell with both hands, holding it over his head like some sort of fiercely earned prize. We laughed as we watched, because somewhere around the corner his pants must have ripped, and so one pant leg was flapping behind him, and he did look slightly embarrassed. As he passed our apartment, I looked to the direction he was going and saw that for which the bell tolls, disproving all our theories: down the street to the right, we saw, parked briefly on the sidewalk, the ice cream truck. The little bell-boy exchanged the bell for one scoop of strawberry as the neighborhood kids began lining up.
Hijab-clad joggers
A few mornings a week, M and I go on short jogs in the park near our house, and it is always nice to be inspired by fellow joggers out there when you feel out of breath and tired. Last week I saw a new sight, which somehow M failed to tell me about all these months. Women in hijab, and jogging! I am revealing my lack of vocabulary regarding the clothing the Muslim women wear, but what I’m referring to is not the face-covering burqa, but the full body- and head-covering, but face-revealing, garments. These women just put on bulky white tennis shoes instead of their usual slip-on sandals, and off they go! There I was, sweaty and hot, in my shorts and sports bra, wide-eyed, about to complain about the heat, and then suddenly silenced. I saw 2 hijab joggers that day, and M tells me he’s seen them in groups of 4 before. I admire their willingness to stay healthy and in shape, when it could be so easy to let their bodies go under such all-covering cloth.
Turkish-German Italians
Our neighborhood in Berlin is over 40 percent Turkish, and is sometimes called “Little Istanbul.” That brings with it all the delights of Turkish food, but it seems some of the Turkish immigrants (or the Turkish-German children of immigrants) have decided to expand their business opportunities. On the corner nearest our apartment are two Italian restaurants. One sells pizza, and the other sells primarily pizza and pasta, though they also have other dishes. Because Berlin is Berlin, prices are incredibly cheap, which might tempt restaurant owners to skimp on the servings or use lesser quality ingredients. Not so on our corner! M has been in the pizza place before while they were making their pizza sauce. Yes, making their own. He saw fresh tomatoes, fresh herbs, onions, the works! Last time I bit into a small sage leaf and smiled at the authenticity. This place is a great place to get a pizza (12-inch), over 40 varieties, with any toppings you want, for just 2 euros. There are primarily 2 workers that we see – M prefers the older man who works the day shift because he uses a more a generous amount of (real) gorgonzola. The younger guy is nice, too, and even at 2am he is friendly and chatty, in fluent Turkish and German, with the customers (I think the entire neighborhood uses it as a midnight snack kitchen.) The pizza/pasta place next door offers less pizza varieties, but more pasta dishes. Two euros still gets you a fantastic pizza, and for 40 cents more, you can instead enjoy a large dish of pasta and freshly made sauce.
For real Italians making the best pizza of your life (haven’t tried it in Naples yet, but we did find an amazing place in Venice run by a family from Naples…); there’s the place a few corners away, by the canal. It is a bit more pricey – an 18-inch pizza is about 7 euros – but well worth the extra bit of money, but it is certainly an enjoyable experience listening to the waiters and pizza bakers parlaying in Italian before strolling through the midnight streets on your way home with a gluttonous smile.
cappuccino July 4, 2007
ok, truth be told, many things i write will be about quite frivolous. today’s topic: cappuccino. i’m not talking about the excellent cappuccinos (cappuccini?) you get at a good cafe, with the perfect proportions of milk froth and espresso, though those are my all-time favourites, especially when you get some creative marbled design on top. (once in italy i got a heart, and my friend got a fish!) a couple of weeks ago i visited a new cafe in the hague, and had one of the most impressive cappuccini of my life – the foam was so thick, it really must have been made from cream. it must have been. i could have cut it with a knife.
i myself have been making a cappuccino for breakfast and/or occasionally for a mid-day treat. we have this device that i will call a milk plunger, because basically it is a small metal (probably aluminum, yikes!) pitcher with a handle, and attached to the lid, there is a sort of net plunger inside. you fill it about 1/3 full with milk, set it on the burner, and as it heats up you start plunging away. 2 minutes later, voila! perfect foam! anyway, point is, i’ve been making these cappuccini with soy milk, and look how much foam you get! it’s amazing! the other nice thing is that the soy milk separates very nicely, and when you pour the espresso in slowly, you get a beautiful, many-layered effect. milk, milky espresso, espresso foam.
i realize the proportions are probably all wrong in the cappuccino in the photo, and admittedly, i would probably also enjoy pure frothed soy milk, but i like the control i have over my caffeine intake. i have to start working on my marbled designs – that can be one of many summer projects – but for now i just sprinkle a bit of cinnamon on top.
first post July 1, 2007
a first post, to explain my title…
my older sister and i have always been very close. when H began taking french in high school, i desperately wanted to learn it, too, so we could have our own “sister language.” years later we were both studying french in university and writing letters to each other (this was just before email became popular), and at one point we realized that the words “soeur” (sister) and “coeur” (heart) are in fact very close to each other. we began addressing our letters to “ma soeur, pres de mon coeur” (my sister, near to my heart), and, well, so it has been for over 10 years. conveniently, the second half of the phrase lends itself well to my blog of thoughts…and i should say, H thought of this title for me!!!
