The Travel Saga

So, our trip to Sydney did not go quite according to the original itinerary. Flying in late December is not good in the northern hemisphere, not only is everyone else doing it too, but there's also a lot of snow around. They really should move Xmas to July here!

Well we started out ok, we got to the airport nice and early. We were so proud of ourselves for checking in our bags on time when all the people queueing with us were running late. Our flight was a bit slow taking off but we landed at Chicago with enough time to make our connection. Or so we thought - the real delay was getting off that plane and onto the next. It had been snowing at Chicago (the tarmac was covered and planes were guided by lights) and the plane at the gate needed to be de-iced before it would get out of our way. By the time we got into the terminal and found the right gate we'd missed out flight by about five minutes!

Just getting an answer was hell, there was no-one staffing the info desk so we had to go out of security and get a new flight from the ticketing counter. We were hoping to get the next flight to LA to make our connection but the woman there informed us in no uncertain terms, "You won't be flying out of Chicago tonight." She put us on a plane for the next afternoon (via San Francisco AND Auckland!) but refused to pay for a hotel for the night. They blamed air traffic control.

They offered us a voucher but we found another motel cheaply enough and waited for their airport shuttle to pick us up. It was freezing cold and snowing heavily but we had to keep going outside to check if it had arrived. When we got to the motel we saw that the only food was a Maccas. It was only next door but we had to walk over snowdrifts to get there and we were only wearing summer clothes!

The next day we went back to O'Hare airport well before our departure time only to find that they were already predicting delays for our flight to San Francisco. We saw that we would miss our connection so we went to the help desk to ask whether we should even bother getting on that plane and to hopefully get a third itinerary. That's when I realised just how many people are travelling that time of year. The queue stretched about 100m and it took over an hour to get to the front. Behind us were a middle aged Kiwi couple who heard that we were going to Auckland and told us they would be missing the same flight. But that wait actually paid off, after much checking and fiddling, the woman at the desk managed to get us on a flight leaving San Fran later that night and going straight to Sydney. (Cindy was disappointed that she wouldn't get to see Hobbits but I was glad that it would be a shorter flight.) I wondered why we hadn't been put on that flight the night before and then I realised that we were only confirmed for that flight, not checked in yet. I wondered what that meant and we got a bit worried.

When we arrived at San Fran, we had to check in with all the others who had just rocked up at the airport. The queue wasn't long but it moved very slowly with just one person serving. When we were being checked in I enquired about my suitcase, as I had realised that the first woman at Chicago had stolen my claim check, which was stuck to an itinerary I handed her. When she looked it up in San Fran, she saw that our bags had actually made the connection from Chicago to LA on the first day. She explained that they couldn't fly with us and would only come after I had filled in the form explaining that they were missing. I said, "Well give me the form now and they can start moving them while we're on our way there." She replied that that was impossible, I had to request them from the final destination. So for 14 hours while we were in the air, our bags were at LAX with no one doing anything about it.

The stress didn't end there, even. For some reason we couldn't get a seat allocation at check-in so we had to go through with just boarding passes and get seats at the gate. Right up to the last minute we thought something else was going to happen to keep us off that flight but luckily they had seats for us. I can only assume that someone else must not have made the connection and we benefited from their misfortune!

And that's about it. We requested our bags upon arrival in Sydney and they only took a day and a half to deliver them to Penrith. In the mean time we had to go shopping for summer clothes and underwear but you can never have too many of those!

World Tour of Australia, 2008

Here are our tour dates:

20th December - Depart Indianapolis 5.32 pm
Miss plane in Chicago, stay in Chicago until 21st
Miss second plane
Lose suitcases
23rd December - Arrive Sydney, 8 am; pm go shopping for clothes
25th December - Xmas dinner chez Best
27th December - EtOH sampling with UNSW chemists
28th December - Picnic at Euroka Clearing
30th December - pm Visit Lisa
31st December - 4pm-Midnight, Fireworks on Sydney Harbour
1st January - Canberra
2nd-4th January - Mollymook
6th January - City
7th January - Bushwalk at Wentworth Falls; dinner at Aunty Kath's
10th January - Depart Sydney 3.15 pm (via LA and Chicago); Arrive Indianapolis 11.36 pm

I'll keep updating this post, so leave a message to book an appearance at your venue.

Thanksgiving 2008

This year, was my 4th Thanksgiving and the 3rd that I cooked myself. And this Thanksgiving had a "when in Rome..." theme.

That is to say I relented. Not only did I make the stuffing in a casserole dish, I also made that abominable mashed sweet-potato and marshmallow casserole. Actually, it wasn't all that bad. The nutmeg goes as well with sweet potato as it does with pumpkin. It just doesn't belong with the main course. After some umming and erring I decided to serve it with the turkey, à l'americain, but I wished I'd saved it for dessert. But I think the pumpkin pie my Canadian friend brought was better.

Apart from my own Thanksgiving Dinner at lunchtime, I was invited for a pot-luck Thanksgiving Dinner that night with various students from the HPS dept. When I saw that there was no time overlap I was sorely tempted to try to make both but then I remembered how it worked out for the Vicar of Dibley and I thought better of it. (This is a whole episode, don't click if you have download limits to worry about.)

Thanksgiving Traditions

I know I've mentioned some American Thanksgiving traditions before but I keep learning more.

I did describe in some detail the combination of sweet potatoes and marshmallows. It's common enough here in Indiana that the supermarkets put out marshmallows and brown sugar in the vege section next to the sweet potatoes for everyone's convenience. A friend of mine who's lived in LA and Boston assures me that this in not just a Mid-West novelty dish, it can be found all over the states. I'm considering making that recipe this year, just to see what it's like. We'll have people over so if it's disgusting, Cindy and I won't have to eat it all ourselves.

I've also mentioned turduckens. Looking back to my first Thanksgiving, what's more interesting is Cameron's comment:

I want to try some turducken! If and when I come over to Indiana, I have to try it out. It's like baconated grapefruit or some other 'antichrist' of vegetarians. I can see them crossing themselves right now.

I might just hold him to that! (Cameron, the rule is that vegans are allowed to eat meat if they're in a different area code.)

But I don't think I've ever mentioned just how Americans cook their turkeys. This photo was taken at our local K-Mart but turkey deep-friers can also be bought in supermarkets along with 4 US gallon (15 L) bottles of oil. They put them out a few weeks before, next to the turkeys.

Now the New York Times is reporting that this might not be such a good idea. If the fat doesn't kill you through a heart-attack, it might just burn you to death:

The turkey fryers — which combine gallons of boiling oil, open propane gas fires and often unstable frames — can easily become flame throwers, fire safety experts say.

Because of the number of fires and burns, national fire safety groups essentially urge people not to fry turkeys. The city’s Fire Department has issued a warning about turkey fryers. And Underwriters Laboratories, a nonprofit group that gives safety certifications for everything from hair dryers to space heaters, has refused to put its UL safety mark on any turkey deep fryer.

I think I'll stick to the oven when I cook mine this Thursday.

And my anecdote for this week isn't picking on United Statesians (for a change) but a different breed of North American. I was discussing Thanksgiving with a pair of Canadians. They have an earlier date for their Thanksgiving up there, because the climate is colder so the harvest comes earlier but everything else is the same. So one of them asked me, 'What do you do for Thanksgiving in Australia?'
'We cook an emu,' I replied, straight-faced. And they believed me!

But when I mentioned this to Cindy, she asked, 'Well, why don't you?' In France they always eat exotic birds at Xmas (pheasant, goose, capon etc.) and everyone knows about emu farming, so it just seemed logical to her that we should at least eat emus at Xmas. I prefer the light meat of the turkey so I think I'd rather stick to tradition than eat patriotically.

Addendum
Tonight at French table I asked a couple of Americans what their favourite Thanksgiving dishes were.
One (West Virginia) replied that she loves stuffing, particularly with lots of dried fruit. So I checked and she confirmed that her stuffing never actually goes in the bird. (It's not sheer laziness, apparently they're all terrified of salmonella poisoning.) In fact, I think I'm yet to meet an American who does stuff their stuffing; in another generation no one will know why it's called "stuffing"!

The other (Michigan) said it was sweet potatoes. So I asked her about the marshmallow abomination. She said she didn't like them with marshmallows herself because she doesn't have much of a sweet tooth. Instead, she likes them sprinkled with brown sugar and cinnamon! No, that's not a sweet tooth at all! On the other hand, this same girl told us that her grandmother's recipe for apple pie called for a cheddar crust. At first I thought I had misheard but, no, in that family at least they really put cheese in the crusts of their apple pies.

Snow

It's definitely cold here now. On Monday I put on my big coat before leaving for class and when I got outside I realised it was snowing. Just a few grains, which melted as soon as they hit the ground. But it was definitely snow. I phoned Cindy to tell her to look out the window, so she'd think to take a beanie, as I hadn't. That wasn't really necessary as she puts on mittens and a warm hat at the drop of one.

I'm about to leave for class now. I see that it's snowing again today. Lighter feathery flakes today. I guess they'll be prettier to walk through but I doubt they'll be any less cold.

Labyrinthitis

Monday I woke up feeling strange. The night before I felt a bit dizzy before going to bed. I assumed it was over-tiredness but I woke up still dizzy. Assuming it was a middle ear infection I went to the doctor. He couldn't see anything and my eustation tubes were clear so apparently it was a mild case of labyrinthitis. (He also tested to see if I'd had a stroke, which I hadn't, and the nurse said I had excellent blood pressure.)

It went away completely later that afternoon so I wasn't too worried. But then it came back again for a few hours today. It's not serious (nothing like what Erin had) but I'm hoping that it's not going to keep recurring because it's difficult to teach when every turn of the head makes you feel like you're on a rollercoaster.

Pushing the Envelope

Not as many interesting interesting misunderstandings from the Americans in my French class this week. We were translating a play from English into French. First they read through it in awful English accents while our English lecturer grinned and bore the mockery. When we got to translating the word "bloody" the American presenting said, "And I know from talking to English people that that's a very strong swear-word."
I contradicted him, "Not really. It is a swear word - unlike "damn" - but it's not a strong one."
The lecturer half backed me up, "Well my brother once got his mouth washed out with soap for saying 'bloody' but it's not the worst of words."
I can't wait to tell them about how Australians use the word "bugger"!

Then later in the class I noticed that the lecturer was disagreeing with all the students' ideas on how to translate "quite". Seeing the problem I gently explained to her why she wasn't getting through to them, "In American, 'quite' is always as an intensifier, even if in normal English we use it to tone down a claim."
People started muttering and the teacher chuckled at my choice of words. I just said, "Sorry, Standard English."
To which she cautioned, "We need to be a little careful here."
I don't think any Americans heard me ask, "What, I'm not supposed to call it patois americain?"

The only other thing of note was the use of a French word - chiant. I was a little proud of being able to incorporate some slang that I had learnt in passing, without having to look it up. But when it came time to discuss the translation in class, the teacher said, "You definitely couldn't use chiant there. It's far too vulgar."
I felt like exclaiming, "Then why does my girlfriend always say it to me?"

Itinerary

Cindy and I bought our tickets for Australia a few months ago. We wanted to get in early before prices shot up too much further (we've been stung a couple of times in the past, buying our tickets too late). We managed to find some for a not too horrendous price (from STA) and we stopped thinking about it.

Then we received emails from the travel agent telling us that there had been schedule changes for our flights, could we please phone to confirm. But when we looked at the new itinerary, we saw that one of the changes had us getting to Chicago at 12.04 am and leaving for Indianapolis at 9.30 pm the day before! It took about a week for them to sort it out with the airline (United). We now have a temporally possible itinerary; we're just hoping they won't change it again!

Here 'tis:

20th December: Depart Indianapolis 5.32 pm (via Chicago and LA)
22nd December: Arrive Sydney

10th January: Depart Sydney 3.15 pm (via LA and Chicago)
Arrive Indianapolis 11.36 pm

So start marking your calendars!

Knowing one's own language

For the first week of my French class the teacher gave us a number of sentences to translate from English into French. One of them struck us all as a little strange and poetic: "The house smelt of size and new paint." When we were all suggesting French words like grandeur for "size", she asked us, 'Who looked up "size" in an English dictionary?' Of course none of us had, but apparently we should have because here it referred to sizing glue.

Despite having learnt my lesson, I still felt a bit sorry for the two American girls presenting their translations in French class this week. They made a big dialectical mistake with the word "semi".

The phrase was, "The houses were much larger than Wilt's semi." The first thing that came to their American minds was a semi-trailer. I must admit, that thought occurred to me too, but I dismissed it when I realised that it had to be a type of house and inferred that "semi" must be slang for semi-detached. (Thanks, Richard Thompson!) Not these two. They had the word "trailer" stuck in their heads and - because Americans call caravans "trailers" - they inferred that the character in question lived in a caravan park.

I must admit, "semi-detached" is not a term I would use, I'd probably use "duplex" in the broader (apparently American) sense. But seeing their embarrassing mistake has reminded me to keep looking beyond my own natural vocabulary.

Translating Foodstuffs

Today the Americans in my French class learnt another thing that I was surprised they couldn't work out for themselves. The text we were translating from English mentioned "bread and butter pudding". All the Americans were asking, 'What's that? Is it like bread pudding?'
So I asked, 'Does bread pudding have butter in it?'
'Yes'
'Voilà!'

The Frenchies in the class got to speculating on how one might translate the word pudding by itself. 'Crème,' one suggested.
So I had to explain that this was not one of those American puddings, those pseudo-mousses. That it was was starchy etc. 'C'est un gâteau, en fait,' the teacher interjected.
'Oh,' one of the Americans suddenly realised, 'Like a Christmas pudding?' Yes, bravo, it's a very enlightened American who knows what a Christmas pudding is.

Then we continued translating and got to "cheese and chutney sandwich". So an American girl had to ask, 'What's chutney?' These people have been living in caves!!

Cosmopolitanism

I've probably complained about the little things in the past but I need to explain to people about Americans' insularity. They're not ignorant in the way they are stereotyped but they are insular. This comes out not as a lack of knowledge but more in their attitudes to foreign things.

The most blatant example was when the secretary in my dept was organising a restaurant dinner for a guest speaker that I was to attend and she asked, "Do you like ethnic food?" Implying: (a) that there are two classes of food - American and ethnic; and (b) that it's perfectly reasonable to reply, "No, I don't like any ethnic food."

The next most confusing attitude is the opposite one. I had a classmate who had spent a year at Oxford. She was quite proud of the fact that she occasionally spelt words the proper way. Not because she saw that American spellings are merely common childish mistakes that no one bothered to correct. No, she felt that there was something romantic about that sort of thing. Likewise the occasional use of "British" words: again, not because it's good to have a broad and varied vocabulary but more because those particular words carry an exotic cachet. I've since met other Anglophiles but I still can't quite work out how you can be in love with English culture. I mean, it's just normal, the default. It's Continental, Asian and African cultures that are foreign!

And that's the thing. For these people who find England exotic, anything more foreign will always be foreign. The foreign foods section of the supermarket (which I've mentioned before) is the best example. Certainly various styles of cooking belong together but the thing I noticed more recently is that it's not just ingredients for certain dishes - the one Italian brand of coffee that they carry is in the Italian food section! All the other brands of everything are American brands.

The reason why I'm writing about this now is because this semester I'm taking a course in the French dept on translating. The teacher made it clear from the start that we needed to produce translations that are readily understood and, if that means translating aspects of culture, so be it. A number of students objected when she said that the correct translation for "15 miles from here" was "à 25 km d'ici". They started to say that there might be a situation where miles would be understood. Where? Louisiana? They must have no idea that the only other countries that don't use metric are Liberia and Burma. (Although, for some reason the UK still uses miles on the roads, but you pay for litres of petrol.)

And to compound the issue, the lecturer for this class is English. I was a bit surprised to hear the other students muttering when we read a passage full of correct spellings like "learnt" and "burnt". I don't know what their problem is; you'd think that in academia you'd have been exposed to enough different styles that it all seems normal. There's no reason at all for the lecturer to refrain from assigning that. But then again, when she uses British slang in class (e.g. "on his uppers") I think that she just might be trying to stir them up.

Still, I was surprised at how difficult they found the cultural context. I wasn't sure what to think when I heard a student comment on the passage we were translating, "He must be really angry to use the word 'damnit'. We'll need to find a strong curse in French." Realising where I was, I gently reminded him, "England is not a religious country." No one understood what I was getting at, so I said more clearly, "'Damn' is the least offensive word. Children are allowed to say it." Well that set the whole class chattering but the teacher confirmed that it's common enough and they eventually believed us.

I'll probably learn a fair bit of French and a little about French culture (as I always am) but my American classmates will be learning a lot more, it seems.

An Eventful Evening

Yesterday Cindy went to Oregon to collect samples so I'm home alone at the moment. She had to get up at 3.30 am, meet her colleagues at the geology building then head up to Indianapolis for a 6 am flight.

Last night I had to pick up a friend from the airport to return the favour for her having taken Cindy and me to the airport in May. All day I was reminding myself to keep an eye on the clock knowing I had no one to remind me when it was time to leave. I knew I'd have to leave a little after 9 pm so at about 9.05 I got ready to make the trip (collected my iPod and its car tape adaptor) and went downstairs to the carpark... But I couldn't find my car!

Then I remembered that I had told Cindy to take my car. Not all the way to the airport, but I did insist that it would be much better for her to drive to the geology building than walking across campus at 4 am. I did say that it would be no trouble for me to stroll up there later to collect the car, which I had forgotten to do. So it was entirely my fault that I had to run from our place on 2nd St up to 11th before getting in the car to drive to the airport. Luckily traffic was good and I still got to the airport before my friend arrived. Best of all she brought me 500g of Cadbury chocolate from Canada!

But the excitement didn't end there. When I got back, as I was letting myself in, I heard a voice behind me call, "Hey, neighbour!" Seems the newly moved-in residents of the basement apartment were having some trouble with their lock (they had the key but the lock was broken, it just kept turning and turning). The emergency number was posted in the hall but, having just arrived in town, they didn't have a phone.

So I lent them mine (local calls are free in America). The landlord wasn't all that prompt to respond, it being almost midnight. After some waiting I suggested that they call a 24-hour locksmith themselves but the handyman eventually arrived. He found that they had left a window unlocked (very dangerous on their level), cut the screen, jumped through and opened the door from the inside. I hate to how difficult it would have been had they locked up properly; the handyman reckons he would have taken a hammer to the door (a locksmith he wasn't)!

Fraud!

I just checked my account balances and got the fright of my life when I found myself overdrawn by more than $200. At first I thought that I hadn't left enough money for the rent check cheque but then I saw several transactions that I never made. Over the last two days someone stole $642.92 from me! Most of it was at service stations where you can pay without a pin or a signature. There was another at a supermarket where they usually ask for a signature.

I've already called the hotline to cancel the card. Tomorrow I'll have to go to the credit union to get my money back. (This shouldn't be too hard, Visa has a "zero liability" guarantee on their debit cards.) I might even have to file a fraud report with the police as well. They'll need to investigate who it was and maybe how they got my number. The only time the card has been far from me recently was at a restaurant when the waitress took quite a while to bring it back. But that seems unlikely. And I can't imagine skimming devices on Bloomington ATMs.

Luckily I keep most of my money at another bank so it couldn't be swept into my checking chequing account, so I'll still have something to live off while they do the paperwork.

Update
So I went to the credit union and they sent me to the police to file a report and get a case number. The police said that there had been a spate of card-number stealing a few months ago but that this was the first in a while. After I took them the case number the people at the credit union assured me that I'd get my money back in a few days; but I'll have to wait about a week until they send me a new card. (Luckily the grocery money is on a store card.)

13th August - I got the money back today.

16th August - And now another fraudulent transaction! Another $87.98 backdated to the 9th, again at Louisville.
So I went back to the credit union to sign another form and let the police know.

20th August - Finally I've got a new credit card and PIN. The last of the money has been returned and life is back to normal.

BBQs

Last night I learnt another little American thing that I never noticed myself. For once it was an American who pointed it out to me!

The party last night was both for Cindy's birthday and also because our friend Katie is leaving town. So Katie brought a couple of her other friends whom we've met but don't know well. One started trying to ingratiate himself by asking Cindy, "Which part of Australia are you from?" It's quite amusing for me to watch this sort of exchange in which Cindy has to pause to wonder whether she's understood the question correctly and then try to find a polite way of responding to a question that doesn't really have a correct answer. (Last time one of my classmates, upon hearing that we were going there asked Cindy, "Have you ever been to France before?")

After the Australia questions were redirected to myself, this guy started commenting on how we prefer to barbecue on hot plates, rather than grills. My first reaction was to think to myself, "Well, it's a lot easier when the meat's not falling into the fire. We only use the grill side of the gas barbie if there's so much meat that it won't fit on the plate or you want pretty lines on your steak." And then I realised that all those times I've been to barbecues here, I'd never seen a plain barbecue plate. We've been forced to use a metal grill (and have the burger patties break and fall in the fire) not because the Bloomington parks are too cheap to install decent barbecues, it's because the plate style just doesn't exist here. Our guest then proceeded to tell us about an Australian friend of his who had actually built a brick barbecue for his family so that they could cook more easily on a plate.

Cindy Hates Hugging

Apparently the French never learn to hug Platonically. The whole cheek kissing business makes it completely unnecessary.
(As an aside, there's a very complicated system of cheek-kissing in France. The number varies from region to region, e.g. it's two on each cheek for Parisians but less in most other places. This leads to one French person wanting to continue kissing the other and having to explain, "C'est quatre chez moi.")

Yesterday was Cindy's birthday so last night we had a few friends over for a little get together (featuring a Toblerone cheesecake, a punch bowl full of sangria and many empty bottles). The other reason for the party was that a friend was leaving town. So at the end of the night there were a few goodbye hugs. That's when Cindy remembered that she didn't know how to hug. One friend, as she was preparing to leave, went and hugged Cindy goodbye/happy birthday and in response Cindy placed her hands on the friend's bum! (I did see this and wondered a little but, you know, girls will be girls!)

Coming to her senses and realising that she might be sending the wrong message, she had to observe others hugging and note how the arms are held (above the waist).

Now it's causing her a bit of concern but she can't go around refusing people's affections or she'll offend people (like some Jews and Muslims do when they won't shake hand with the opposite sex). So I have advised her to just avoid the hugs altogether and surprise the Americans by greeting them with kisses on the cheek. I'm looking forward to seeing how that goes over.

Entropy

Cindy's computer has had a hard disk crash, again. (So, if you try to talk to me on MSN, it might actually be her using my computer.)

The guy at the computer shop reckons it's because of the current price war, that all this competition leads the hard disk manufacturers to lower their quality control standards. That makes it pretty cheap for us to buy external hard drives for backups but unfortunately that could be contributing to the original problem.

I can't wait until solid-state technology improves.

Goin' where the weather suits my clothes

I think I've worked out why all the buildings here are over-airconditioned. It's because Americans wear jeans all year around. Even in the heat of summer, when it's 35˙C here in Bloomington, half of the people are wearing jeans. There is a slightly negative attitude to shorts in general but for some reason they prefer denim to even light cotton trousers.

I can't help but think that they need to do the opposite of Jimmy Carter's famous, "Put on a sweater and turn down the heat." by just dressing for the weather. They'd be much more comfortable too.

Monroe County Fair '08

Last night we went to this year's Monroe County Fair. It was very similar to last year's where we saw a rodeo.

This time we started off looking at all the animals. There were exhibits of all sorts of poultry, horses, cows, sheep etc. (In keeping with the rural theme, the ketchup and mustard for the hot dogs was dispensed from cow's udders.) We noticed that, just like last year, at the rabbit exhibition there were different breeds of rabbit, including some labelled as "single fryer", "roaster" and "stew". So I encouraged Cindy to go to the horse pavilion and ask, "If these are all riding horses, do you have separate exhibits for the draught- and meat-horses?" But she didn't want to offend anyone so she refused to do it.

This year we we a little more adventurous with the American carnival food. Last year we tried a funnel cake, which Cindy ordered again this year and we also tried a similar item known as an elephant ear.

But that wasn't the most interesting part. The most disgusting American delicacy that we tried was the deep-fried Oreos (sic.). That wasn't all, there were also deep-fried pickles and deep-fried Snickers on the menu (but we didn't try those)! Suffice it to say, last night we consumed enough saturated fat for the next year.

The scariest food ever

I noticed it for sale in our local boutique grocer. I was looking at the various fancy international chocolates when my eyes fell upon this American abomination -- baconised chocolate.

No, your eyes do not deceive you. This product really exists! I couldn't believe it either so I checked the ingredients on the back; it's not bacon-flavoured bits, it's chunks of real bacon in there!

Here's the rationale:

I began experimenting with bacon + chocolate at the tender age of 6, while eating chocolate chip pancakes drenched in Aunt Jemima syrup, as children often do. Beside my chocolate-laden cakes laid three strips of sizzlin' bacon, just barely touching a sweet pool of maple syrup. And then, the magic—just a bite of the bacon was too salty and I yearned for the sweet kiss of chocolate and syrup, so I combined the two. In retrospect, perhaps this was a turning point; for on that plate something magical happened, the beginnings of a combination so ethereal and delicious that it would haunt my thoughts until I found the medium to express it—chocolate.

From there, it was just a matter of time…and what began as a love of salt and sweet quickly unraveled into an obsession. No sooner could I wait to unveil the royal coupling in solid bar form, a deep milk chocolate with bits and pieces of applewood smoked bacon and just a sprinkling of Alder salt. Really, what doesn't taste better with bacon?

It never occurred to me before that bacon might fall into Dr Nick's chocotastic food group.

Teaching

It's summer break here now and the university doesn't pay me for this time so I've found myself a summer job. I'm teaching forensic science to high school kids through a program called Upward Bound. It's specifically for students from disadvantaged backgrounds: 2/3 both come from low income families and neither of their parents have a tertiary education; the remaining 1/3 either come from low income families or neither parent has had tertiary education. The kids all stay on campus and have lessons and other activities.

This means that they have some very... creative given names. "Kahlúa" gets double points for being both a registered trademark and alcoholic (makes me thing that Cointreau or Drambuie might be good names for a boy, or Sambucca for a girl!). "Xotchil" is the most difficult to pronounce. There's also a couple of names with capital letters in the middle but, believe it or not, that's not so rare here in Bloomington, e.g. Cindy has taken classes with a TreVor.

So far it's been a bit of a challenge, behaviour-wise. Lots of talking and quite a bit of sleeping in class. There was also one incident with a student following his class-mate around the room while discreetly holding a retort-stand by his side. When I approached they both sat down and pretended nothing was going on. When I took the retort-stand from him and let him know how serious the situation was, he explained, "But that's my cousin!" Well, I must admit, I have a cousin who I've tried to kill before but I'm glad I didn't.

Anyway, as part of this program (which is federally funded) they are given a weekly allowance of $20. But if they do anything wrong, the teachers deduct money, e.g. late to class is $2 and disrespect is $5. And there is a tutor assigned to the class who keeps track of all misbehaviour and reports it. Luckily she's a no-nonsense sort of person who let's them know when they're out of line.

French Food

Cindy's been working through a list of meals we can't get in America to eat while we're hear here in France. We've had quite a few crêpes, French-style calzones, pains au chocolat (we call 'em "chocolate croissants" but they're not a type of croissant here because they're not crescent-shaped), rillettes, pâté de lapin and choucroute. (As for choucroute, normally I don't like cabbage but I've found that cooked with enough bacon, ham and pork it can be good.)

Tonight we're having a special, complicated-looking dish - raclette. It's like a fondue only it's poured, not dipped. (It comes from the region of France near the Swiss border.) There's this certain meat that they pour it on, grisons, which is now made from beef but traditionally was made from donkey! Apparently it's almost impossible to find the donkey version anymore but old people will sometimes search for it at their local boucheries chevaline. That's right, they have specialised horse butchers. That's how they do things in France, a charcuterie sells pork (and sausages, like a delicatessen), fish comes from a fish-monger and horse from a specialised butcher. The real surprise is that the market near Cindy's house has three such horse shops!

Last time I commented on French food I forgot to mention that they never drink fresh milk, it's always UHT. Cindy claims that this is because of the strong influence Pasteur had on the nation. I find this ironic given the state of their cheeses, and how they refuse to pasteurise the milk for most traditional cheeses. "That," she explains, "Is good contamination."

On a positive note, I think I've finally learnt to tell the difference between brie and camembert. But I still doubt I'd be able to pick out coulommiers in a blind taste test as it's about half-way between those two.

Catacombs

I knew Paris was an old city and I had supposed that there would be all sorts of planning and infrastructure issues involved with keeping such a city running. The question that hadn't really crossed my mind before is, "What happens when all the cemeteries fill up?" (Being a mainly Catholic country they wouldn't want to turn to cremation.)

Apparently this was a serious problem towards the end of the 18th century so they dug up all the bones and packed them densely into catacombs. In front of each pile a sign was placed stating from which cemetery the bones were taken; but of course no identification of individual skeletons. It's a little strange when the signs say something like, "Mixed in with everyone else are the bones of such famous people as Robespierre and Lavoisier."

Since the 19th century they've been a tourist attraction so this afternoon we went and took a tour (something Cindy hadn't seen before). There were signs at the entrance warning people that the ossuary was a bit intense so I was a little surprised to see quite a few children down there. At first I thought it was good that they weren't hyper-sensitised to mere bones but then I noticed an English woman forcing her kids to pose in front of the various piles of skulls. I thought that was a bit macabre.

Champagne

Today was Mothers' Day in France so we drove with Cindy's parents to visit her brother and his family in R(h)eims. The first thing we did there was take a tour of a champagne cellar at the Pommery winery. In fact, it was quite busy so we had to wait for a tour to start and the next tour in French was so far off that they actually decided to take the next tour in English. Which was easier for me and fine for Cindy but the other six of us had little idea what was going on. The cellars were all converted from Roman-era chalk mines so they were quite deep and a little chilly. As we walked through the guide gave us a little info on the production of champagne and constantly reminded us that it was Louise Pommery who first marketed brut champagne at a time when champagnes were much sweeter. (They're almost all brut now.) This all sounded very classy until a couple of weeks later at the airport I saw bottles of Pommery's newest blend, POP, which comes in small, brightly coloured bottles with a straw attached!

After lunch we went to see Rheims cathedral, where many of the French kings were crowned. It was pretty but they didn't give us a glass of champagne at the end of that tour.

Scotland

We really enjoyed Scotland. Our advice was to spend as much time in Edinburgh as possible and don't worry about Glasgow; we're glad we followed it. Edinburgh is a lovely city to walk around and having a castle in the centre just tops it all off nicely. Having a guided tour made it worthwhile. Seeing the Scottish crown jewels was interesting but while we were there we were lucky enough to see a re-enactment. It was a military policeman arresting a soldier from the Black Watch, which gave them the opportunity to discuss the military lifestyle at the end of the Victorian period. The best bit for the tourists (something I'd heard about but wasn't too sure of) was when the MP decided to inspect the soldier's uniform. He took out a mirror on the end of a stick and stuck it under his kilt then asked a lady in the audience to have a look. Well, the actor was wearing underpants, which mean he was out of uniform (apparently they were allowed but only for mixed highland dancing or highland games) so he made up a medical excuse.

There were a lot of tartan shops but not many touristy things to see apart from the castle. (We didn't see the royal yacht Britannia that was recommended.) But we did visit Greyfriars Kirkyard and saw the statue of Bobby.

After a day and a half in Edinburgh we caught a train through Glasgow to Prestwick (a RyanAir hub; it works out cheaper to buy the train ticket just to get on the cheapest airline) to fly back to Paris. Cindy didn't try to bring any knives on board this time but they did insist on confiscating my jar of English marmalade, despite the fact it seemed quite solid to me. Still, I managed to get a fair bit of Cadbury chocolate (which Pat insists is better in England than in Australia).

The North

So after eventually getting the car we drove east to see Stonehenge, where we only stopped for a little while before turning north.

On the plane from America to France we watched (half of) a new French comedy called "Bienvenue chez les Ch'tis". Basically the whole movie is a series of jokes about someone from the south of France not wanting to move to the cold north where people are backward and talk with a funny accent.

All that made me worry a little about visiting my cousins in Yorkshire. Likewise, on their side they were worried about having a French girl stay with them. "Park your Citroën out in the driveway so she feels welcome," they told their grandmother. But all went well. I've heard enough Yorkshire to cope well with the accent. The only thing for me is that, with no definite articles, every noun sounds like a proper noun; "go to fish shop" sounds like there's a town called 'Fish Shop'. But Cindy found it easier without all those superfluous little words getting in the way of the meaningful part of the sentence. And of course our hostess (my third cousin, twenty-eight times removed) was very welcoming and fed us well so I was very happy that I got in touch with her.

The next day we went to York with her and a grandson. The best part of that town was a mediaeval street called "The Shambles".
And we also went to a Viking history centre to learn about the North's Norse heritage. It was quite an elaborate animatronic ride with commentary in several languages and even smells piped in. The smell was a novelty at first but it soon wore off when they showed us a mediaeval toilet. The straining animatronic face was going a bit too far.

We had dinner at the local pub with plenty of family that night and generally felt like we got a good taste of England.

The last thing we saw in England was Hadrian's Wall. For such a long wall it was hard to find! And once we found it we were a little underwhelmed.

London

Like our visit to Italy last year, we're taking a short side trip from our stay in France, this time Britain.

We had a bit of bad luck with the underground. We chose a motel out in the suburbs of north London but near a metro line. Yet when we arrived that line was closed for repairs. (The same thing that happened to us in Rome!) So we had to walk a couple of kilometres from another station, but we made it.

We had two full days there and managed to see plenty - the Tower of London, with a Beefeater-guided tour; Houses of Parliament; Trafalgar Square; St Paul's Cathedral. We didn't get time to go inside Westminster Abbey but I did get a chance to cross Abbey Road.

On the third day we went to pick up the hire car only to find that Google maps had sent us on a wild goose chase. We wasted an hour or two looking for something else. But at least we got to ride some double-decker buses.

Paris

So I'm in Paris with Cindy's family for a few weeks again this summer. I think I'm getting used to French culture; I'm not so surprised now when I see them dipping bread into their bowls of coffee and eating their mouldy cheese.

This time I'll be doing some work while I'm here, some research in the archives of the Académie des Sciences. In the period I'm working on it was called the Académie Royale des Sciences but Cindy tells me I mustn't ever call it that in front of French people, "We behead our royals," she explains proudly. It's going to be interesting when I take her to London to visit the Queen.

Earthquake!

Apparently there was an earthquake last night. I slept through it. It was 5.2 on the Richter scale; that sounds big but I guess I am a heavy sleeper.

The epicentre was not that far from Bloomington:

They say it was felt widely - all the way south to Atlanta and north to Michigan. But not in my bedroom.

I kind of wish I felt it, I've never experienced an earthquake before.

P.S.
Please, Cameron, no bragging about the size of earthquakes in Japan. Or, if you can't help yourself, at least spare us the numbers - no one really understands the Richter scale, it's just something that geologists tell newspapers so that they can sound scientific.

More things Americans don't have

I have tonsilitis. So I went to the pharmacy, that is to say, to the supermarket. Every supermarket has a small pharmacy built in with a proper pharmacist on duty for prescriptions and a small range of non-prescription medicines etc. Conversely, there are stand-alone pharmacies, not usually shop-fronts in malls but free-standing buildings. Having so much floor space, they are led to stock all manner of snack foods, cleaning products, alcohol, you name it! One of the rare occasions I was in one of those, I overheard someone ask if they sold ping-pong balls, and the shop assistant told them which aisle! Anyway, maybe I should have gone to a huge pharmacy because my supermarket pharmacist had never even heard of Betadine gargle. The only iodine he had was for cuts etc. and I don't feel like risking that. And they don't have anything like Butter Menthols either, so I have to make do with honey-lemon flavoured stuff.

In other news, yesterday Cindy's professor made fun of her for saying "poo"; he seemed to think that "poop" is the only acceptable variation in these parts. A quick Google search confirmed that "poop" is far more common in America but the only site that had these under dialect comparisons said that both are acceptable anywhere. I'll have to run it past my friends next time we're down at the pub.

Cricket

The weather is getting warmer here now so yesterday we went for a picnic in a local park. It was a big open space so I took along a little cricket set I bought when I was in Australia.

The Americans all found it a great novelty. They couldn't quite get the point of bowling (they kept saying "pitching") and I had to keep telling them to hold the bat below the waist but the funniest thing was the way in which they all dropped the bat and ran in an arc to the other end of the pitch!

Another Easter

I've mentioned before how Americans don't eat Hot Cross Buns. You can get them but they're iced and you certainly can't get choc-chip ones. So I made some chocolate Hot Cross Buns myself; two batches, in fact.

I don't know if I've mentioned but they don't have large Easter eggs here. The largest ones are about 10cm tall, most common are the little 2cm ones. Certainly no 1kg eggs. I thought everything was supposed to be bigger in America. Maybe they have 3lb eggs in Texas.

Kingdom of the Crystal Skull

Was it something I said?

Today we went to the Bureau of Motor Vehicles so that Cindy could do her driving test (she passed). While I was there I decided to update the address on my licence. As she was processing it on the computer, the woman asked me the usual questions, "Do you still want to be an organ donor?"

"Yes," I replied.

"Would you like to register to vote?" she asked.

"I can't," I explained, "I'm not a citizen." Then, being too curious for my own good, I asked her, "What would you have done had I said yes? Would you have asked for a birth certificate or would my licence have been enough identification for you to enroll me?"

"That's a good question," she replied as she walked away to confer with her supervisor.

When she came back she informed me that, as an alien, the documents I had brought were insufficient to change the address on my driver's licence. I would need not only the old licence and proof of my new address but also all my immigration documents, despite the fact that they sighted them when giving me my original licence. I never did get an answer to my question.

It'd be nice to get a say in who will be elected king of the world in November this year but I don't think it would be worth the risk of getting deported.

Glossary of Academic Terms

I wrote the post below in normal English but I could also have written it in 'Merkin. Here's some of the differences I've noticed:

American	English
college (abstract)	undergraduate education
grad school	postgraduate education
college (concrete)	institution that awards only undergraduate degrees
university	institution that also awards postgraduate degrees
commencement	graduation
regalia	academic dress
diploma	testamur
B.S., M.S.	B.Sc., M.Sc.
M.D.	M.B. B.S. or M.B. B.Ch.
J.D.	L.L.B.
dissertation	doctoral thesis
faculty	academic staff
staff	administrative staff
school e.g. School of Business	faculty e.g. Faculty of Science
department e.g. Philosophy Department	school e.g. School of Philosophy
department chair	head of school
professor	lecturer of any rank
assistant professor	untenured lecturer
discussion section	tutorial
letter grades: A, B, C, D, F	grades: high distinction, distinction, credit, pass, fail
Fraternity/Sorority	combined residence hall and drinking club
proctor	to invigilate

I Am the Master

I picked up my testamur today. I opted out of the graduation ceremony. Apparently I'm not missing much because they don't even call out everybody's name (not unless you're getting a doctorate).

So after my name I can write: B.Sc., B.A.(Hons) UNSW, M.A. Indiana. More importantly, Cindy no longer outranks me so I don't have to salute anymore. Now I just have too keep working on the PhD bit.

After I mentioned not bothering with the ceremony, Cindy told me that she never got one. They don't have them in France, or academic regalia of any sort. They're missing out on a fun costume party! But she'll get her chance in a couple of years, it can go on the list of American experiences (along with Halloween, rodeos etc.).

We don't have a pool room but Cindy and I were wondering about how to display a testamur without seeming like a tosser. We decided that in a house with a water closet, that would be the best place. But our apartment has the toilet in the bathroom and I don't think shower steam would do it any good.

A Week of Festivities

Living a multi-cultural life means a lot of different festivals to celebrate.

Saturday was the French festival Chandeleur. Originally a Catholic festival, it's now about eating crêpes. So I cooked Crêpes Suzette and some savoury buckwheat crêpes that the French call galettes. Apparently the best way is with ham, Swiss cheese and a fried egg; but blue vein cheese and walnuts is also a popular choice.

Sunday was the Superbowl, which in American culture is as important a moveable feast as Easter. We went and watched it at a friend's place. I know more of the rules now but I still don't understand the appeal of gridiron. Still, a meal with friends is always fun. One instructor was complaining beforehand that he knew that Superbowl meant all his students would do badly on Monday's exam. I overheard another American explaining to some international students, "If your team is in the Superbowl, it's perfectly acceptable to be drunk at 10 am." (Kick-off is not until 6.30 pm.) You probably don't remember that last year's winner was the Indianapolis Colts. Well, apparently in the last 12 months the #1 male baby name has been "Peyton", after the Colts' quarterback. (They then tried to tell me that the top girl's name was "Neveah"; I immediately told them about this terrific idea.)

Today (Tuesday) is Shrove Tuesday. I made pikelets. But here no-one knows what Shrove Tuesday is; Americans don't shrive. (That's right, "shrove" is the past tense of "shrive" but I can't remember what it means.)
Instead, because of the Louisiana celebrations, Americans have Mardi Gras. (I even heard one girl use an English translation, "Fat Toosday"!) With the Louisiana Mardi Gras they eat what they call a King cake, based on the French Galette des Rois (which the Frogs eat on 6th January, the Epiphany). It's the same in that they bake a surprise inside (always a baby Jesus in Louisiana, random trinkets in France) but Cindy assures me that the cakes themselves are very different - almond in France, cinnamon in Louisiana. They're in all the supermarkets so I bought one to try, it was ok.

And this Thursday is Chinese New Year. That lasts a few days so Sunday we're going to a festival on campus with a Chinese friend.

More little quirks

I noticed a while ago that Americans eat a lot of apple sauce. For example, it's in those snack boxes that you can buy on domestic flights (which I never buy). I dunno what they do with it, eat it with a spoon like baby food, I guess. I do know that Jews put apple sauce on potato pancakes (which they call latkes) but when I asked someone why they couldn't tell me. But here's the strange thing: when I commented, 'The only thing I associate apple sauce with is pork chops.', they were shocked. None of the Americans in the room had heard of putting apple sauce on pork! One said, 'I've heard of mint sauce on lamb.' but they don't even eat lamb! How can they, with so much apple sauce around, not have discovered the combination of pork and apple sauce?

Oh, and I got a new number plate for my car in the mail today. Strange, they allow me to renew my rego online -- convenient -- but insist on giving me a new plate, even though the other is less than two years old. Sounds like a waste of aluminium, having just insisted on giving me a new plate when I bought the car. Whatever, I never learnt the old number anyway!
The old one looked like this:

A nice field of corn, with a barn in the background, which is what the state actually looks like. The new one is uglier:

But, better still, there's a new style coming out next year that you can request at no extra cost, which will last until 2013:

I'll probably get it if it's free. But I don't see how it's Lincoln's bicentenary, if he was born in 1816 but the plate can only be retained until 2013. The other question is, "Will the Illinoisans resent it?" because they claim Lincoln too. I think he's on all their plates.

Back in the USA

The time is about the same in either direction but coming from Sydney to Indiana is worse. That long leg across the Pacific leaves you feeling completely buggered just when you're trying to stay away to get on and off planes.

I think it might have been a little longer door-to-door because we had to get to the airport so early. We weren't able to check in online so we got there 3 hours before the scheduled departure. Then when we checked our bags they told us we'd only get seats allocated at the gate because they had overbooked -- they were offering people $800 to come back the next day. So when we got to the gate half an hour earlier than the boarding time, the woman told us to go away and come back at boarding. Worried about getting seats, we kept coming back and asking, which I'm sure annoyed her, but we were worried about overbooked flights.

Oh, and when we were going through security something in Cindy's bag attracted their attention. It was the mini leatherman knife (geologists need these things) she had got for Xmas, she'd forgotten to take it out. We apologised but they weren't worried, they kept the knife and that was all. (I have to wonder what would have happened had we tried that at an American airport.)

So eventually we got into Indianapolis at 11pm, where a friend was waiting to drive us back to Bloomington. That was Monday night so we missed the first day of classes but it was worth it.

More Adventures in Australia

Our holiday went basically as per the schedule below. I think we did quite well to combine my need to see friends with Cindy's need to do touristy things.

Tuesday we went to Muru Mittigar for boomerang lessons etc. We took a little tour of the centre and learnt about uses of various plants. When we spoke to the guy making didgeridoos, he explained that he still uses the traditional method of letting termites hollow out the branches. I figured that he must have grown up in a rather traditional community because he spoke with that stereotypical aboriginal accent. Cindy commented that that the way he spoke English sounded just like the rustic accent from central France!

Wednesday went to Featherdale with Lisa and Jezebel, as planned. So Cindy and the little girl both got to pat all the animals. Cindy was eager to see wild kangaroos too, so we went up to Euroka clearing for those.

The BBQ lunch at Steffan's was great. As well as seeing old friends we ate kangaroo. Cindy said she prefers it to beef (but it's not quite as good as horse!).

Saturday we went to the Opera House to see a carols performance. It was an interesting mixture of traditional, formal carols sung by professional opera singers and some more modern numbers. Erin got all excited about the sleigh-ride song.

Then Xmas day was a big deal. We had all my mother's family and some of my father's over at our place for lunch (17 people in all).

Boxing Day we drove up to Wooli. Traffic was ok, got there at a decent time. But the weather was not great. At first it was just a little rain, but after that cyclone came down the Queensland coast the storms became quite violent. We still managed to swim between showers. We'd go in the water, it would start raining so we'd just stay in until the rain stopped!