Snowcountry

My mom keeps saying I moved to snow country, and I think she's right. Last week we had a blizzard and now it's snowing again, been snowing all day--lovely. Listening to Audrey Hepburn sing Moon River. Making a flyer for Khenpo Guru's upcoming Salt Lake teaching, procrastinating on cleaning the house and folding the laundry, flipping flapjacks, planning out Christmas presents, reading the beautiful Song of Kahunsha by Anosh Irani ("Chamdi tells Jesus that from now on, he will learn to carry sadness with him as if it is an extra toe.")....Still slightly paranoid since the break-in--but trying to get over it!

Robber Update

Guess what else the robbers stole? Keith's razor and razor blades!!! Can you even believe it? Oh, and Happy Thanksgiving!

thanks!

no, not thanks to you burglars-if you're reading this, but thanks to you sweet friends for your kind words. it helps!

so, i got home last night and discovered even more things had been stolen than keith originally thought! then k and i spent about three hours cleaning up all the black stuff left by the fingerprinting lady. if you ever happen to get robbed, i'd suggest skipping the fingerprinting. it only makes the whole nasty business worse.

anyway, here's to hoping those crooks are okay.

Oh No!

this morning all i had to worry about was whether or not the roads would be good...but today while i was working and k was snowboarding, someone broke into our house!!! it is really creepy and scary! plus they stole our laptops and keith's work bag with his stethoscopse and wallet! oh, and our iphone chargers! they must have been disappointed we didnt have much to take. one thing im sad about though are the new poems i was working on that were on my desktop...and my photos. oh samsara.
ps also, the robbers clogged the toilet!!! what the heck!?!

In Little Utah

It's not yet Thanksgiving, but here in Utah it already feels like winter! The windows are fogged, there's snow on the roses, candles flickering, whistling wind and blizzard warnings for tuesday! I'm enjoying tiny pieces of citrus and knitting...Today found K and I sliding sideways down a canyon road after leaving Snowbird--scary!!! Let's hope tomorrow's commute up the mountain won't be too treacherous. Oh, and loving this baked oatmeal recipe and the beautiful, quiet book Astrid and Veronika. It seems like it's original title might have been Let Me Sing You Gentle Songs. How lovely! Also, the house is finally clean--hooray! I can go to bed happy.

Well

I must say my pride took a serious beating last weekend.

I highly recommend not attempting to snowboard for the first time in ten years when you have pms and are still feeling very low-energy from a recent cold. The three do not mix.

Beforehand, I'd told Keith, "It will all come back, just like riding a bike." As you can see, I was very confident! Unfortunately, I had to eat my words!! It definitely came back, albeit what felt like sooo slowly! But yesterday, our third day out, was beautiful. Blue skies, sun, and suddenly something clicked and I found myself zooming down the mountain as before--as in my dreams!

But

In the mornings, we hurry through the rice fields-
down, then up-over rocks-cold in our lungs.

We carol through the greening winter fields wet with dew,
in between dissatisfaction.

A nanny goat
A billy goat
A keyhole
The grackles in the trees

(or sometimes crying through the fields)
And the baby with the giant head, in a basket in Boudha.
I watched him flailing his arms, trying to grab a tiny toy truck.

Truthfully,

I'm a bit sad and headachey tonight. It's cold and dark and despite this morning's snow, a bit of melancholy has slipped in. There are people I'm missing. And I'm sad I can't jet off to Singapore in 6 days to see Karma Kuchen--just found out tonight he'll be there...Still, my discovery of the band/song below has helped cheer me up a bit! You can download their albums for free here.

Beautifulness-Parachutes perform Of Sleep in Alex's Reykjavik living room

Backtracking...

Here is another old-ish story I'm in the process of working on. I might have posted bits and pieces of this before back in 2008:

In the summer, one of my teachers laughed, said, “Are you sure?” when I said I was going to Tibet. “But the roads are so high—you’ll get sick...” “Yes, of course I’m going!” I laughed in disbelief.

But first, we were in China, in Chengdu, trying to recover from jet lag. In Chengdu, there was never any garbage on the streets. It was orderly. There were trash cans and recycling bins and people in orange vests sweeping with twig brooms taller than themselves seemingly day and night. In Chengdu there was pomelo fever, a strange fancy Pizza Hut. At Air China's cashier window, they counted Keith's money on an abacus.

In Chengdu, our hotel included huge buffet breakfasts: egg fried rice, tiny bits of bacon dripping grease, prune sticky rice wrapped in tiny banana leaf packets, fried dough buns, huge sections of pomelo and tea mixed with sweetened condensed milk as rain streamed off eaves. After breakfast, I cupped my hands, let them fill with water, washing the stickiness away.

But soon it was time for us to head to Tibet. We had our Lonely Planet guide. We had Keith's rudimentary Tibetan. Armed with that, and packets of ramen, bread, peanut butter and acetazolamide, we boarded a bus.

On the bus along the Tibet-Sichuan Highway from Kangding to Chengdu, there were strange Tibetan music videos playing. We passed billboards of smiling Tibetans next to Chinese military men and women. Huge sacks of fresh walnuts for sale, kiwis and kiwis and kiwis.

It was eight hours from Chengdu to Kangding--an historical border town between China and Tibet. With those eight hours came a huge gain in elevation. We arrived in the city at 8,400 feet.  In Kangding, the source of the Mekong, the Dza Chu River, flowed through town and mountains rose all around, Buddhas painted upon them.

There were only a few hotels approved for foreigners. And so we stayed in a shared room at the Black Hat guesthouse with two American girls who taught English in Chengdu. The room had brightly painted old-style wooden beds and wires sticking out of the wall with a note below that said in English, "Do not lick."

In Kangding, I had no idea what day it was. I went to a Tibetan restaurant downstairs from a hotel and drank Lhasa sweet tea from a tall clear glass while Tibetan music played noisily. It was fall. It was cold. I warmed my hand on the glass. I had a headache. Outside the street bustled with honking cars while I waited for my breakfast of scrambled eggs with tomato and tibetan bread with yak butter. There was an ATM and yak momos oozing buttery meat juice.
 
In Kangding, street vendors sold round potato slices on skewers that had been fried in hot oil. Girls had unbelievably long pony tails. The Tibetan waitresses sang while working. The streetlights had mantras on them--prayers glowing in the dark. There were Chinese shops of jewelry and tea bowls. Malas and rugs. A whole shop of bizarre plastic curtains--all hanging throughout the store so you had to walk through as though in a maze. Tea shops full of smoking men in suitcoats. A whole shop of stuffed, standing Tibetan antelope wearing yellow khataks.

Somehow, we ended up meeting the Dalai Lama's step-nephew. He helped us buy bus tickets, took us for tea, bought us dramamine for the next bus ride which would take us deeper into Tibet.

Delicata, Kale and Cranberry Bean Salad

Sometimes I go through a short spell where I don't feel like eating anything, when I just feel so sick of everything I usually eat. For the past week K has been feeling this way. However, I think I broke the spell with this fall salad I made yesterday.

I found this recipe in Gourmet a few years ago and remembered loving it when I made last autumn. It is really simple and delicious and I can't believe I've only eaten it a few times this year! Maybe having the recipe here on the blog will remind me to make it more often...

Delicata, Kale and Cranberry Bean Salad
2 medium delicata squash
1 tbsp olive oil
2 tbsp balsamic vinegar
2 tbsp honey
1/2 bunch kale
1 large shallot
1 garlic clove minced
1 tbsp red-wine vinegar
1 tsp coarse salt
1 can cranberry or cannellini beans

1)Preheat oven to 400. Cut squash into 1/2 inch thick semicircles. Toss with oil and bake till tender.
2)Mix balsamic + honey. Brush some onto squash. Bake 5 more min.
3)Cook shallot and garlic in oil. Add red-wine vinegar and rest of balsamic+honey, bring to boil.
4) Pour hot dressing over kale and sprinkle with salt.
5) Add squash+beans

Okay, so this is a salad so of course the recipe doesn't have to be closely followed. Yesterday when I made this I didn't include the shallots/garlic. I also didn't have any cranberry beans and so used adzuki beans. And it was still super delicious.

No Longer Home

On the plane we watch ourselves propel down the runway on a huge TV screen, watch the earth drop until houses shrink and clouds drift over. It's already the future in Tokyo-- the morning of Nov. 24^th, 2004.

A strange meal at 11PM. We already had lunch and dinner--so this is lunch #2, or midnight breakfast? Seafood pasta with fruit and green tea and a sweet bun.

Two cups of orange juice, one cup of apple, two cups of seaweed-ey green tea, one small bottle of water later, and we're almost there. Japanese stewardesses demonstrate "relaxing stretching exercises" while Keith watches sumo wrestling and I listen to the Cure.

These are the things I remember--a fiftyish Japanese lady wearing a lime mink coat, fuschia lipstick, mule high heels covered in pearls. She was on the plane with us from NYC and helped us take the right train from Keisei to Ikebukuro.

On the train from Narita to Tokyo--green everywhere, clothes hanging to dry. Schoolgirls in blazers, plaid scarves, unbelievably short plaid skirts. Kids on a seesaw, huge Coca Cola billboard and still a haddock sky listening to Spiritualized. A parking garage full of bikes. Playgrounds and the sky a circle of flame orangepink.

The walk from Ikebukuro to our hotel down tiny alley-like streets with little vans and kids on bikes and boys on scooters. Every couple feet, at least three vending machines full of coffees and teas and juices and cigarettes and beers. The floor of our $100/night hotel room entirely covered in tatami mats. A tiny TV, an even tinier bathroom. Pokemon telling the weather on the news.

In the bathroom at Damaru restaurant there was a tiny tree growing out of the lid of the toilet where a spigot came out, continuously watering...Uniformed men sweeping leaves off sidewalks with homemade looking brooms. Women in kimonos with white socks and wooden sandals.White surgical masks over faces, even on fashionable teens. Little girls in sailor uniforms. Pachinko parlors. Babies in bike baskets. Revolving sushi in Shibuya—it was Thanksgiving and this was the only deal in Tokyo. And everything crazy Christmas. Trees covered in popping blue lights. Eating my parent's homemade oatmeal cookies all over Tokyo. No one eats on the streets and no cell phones ring on clean subways. The "Casual, Sporty, Lazy" shop in Ikebukuro. So many schoolgirls in uniforms. The girls' plaid skirts just below their bums. And all in penny loafers and knee socks--one girls' are navy with tiny pink playboy bunnies. Tokyo a mix of the neonest of neon, crazily rich dressed kids, and cleanliness. Uniformed men vacuumed subway floors and scrubbed under windows on their hands and knees with toothbrushes. Ultimately, I freaked out in Shinjuku--Tokyo's Times Square. After being dizzy from jet-lag and nauseated on weak knees by countless bowls of plastic food outside restaurants, McDonalds became my savior for the first and last time in my life. The cheeseburger and fries tasted American all the way as I looked down on thousands of people exiting a stadium, my head swimming. Soon, I was able to descend back into the heart of consumerism where high-pitched girl voices blasted on street corners from invisible speakers.

After my transaction at the currency exchange in Narita airport, a staid older man who worked there said, "For you--we were open yesterday," and handed me a bottle of Evian water....?

Our last morning, on the train to Narita--7:30 AM and everyone asleep, heads falling forward--the girl next to me leaning into my shoulder. And there was a boy about eleven in his school suit standing up, eyes closing,  his cheek smeared on the window of the door, his face so pure and innocent and he slouched, jerked awake.

Mundane Revelations Amongst Other Things

-Persimmons! How is it possible I never tried one until today? Deliciousness.
-Bored to Death - how is it possible I never knew of this show until today? Perhaps because I haven't owned a TV in 7 years? Excited to watch it and hoping it's as good as I'm wishing it will be.
Okay, that's actually it for the revelations. In other news, apples are simmering on the stove, filling the house with an amazing applesauce aroma. I replenished my stock of household cleaners today. Why do my homemade, peppermint smelling cleaners somehow make cleaning more enjoyable? I don't know, but I'm glad they do. I feel as though I might be coming down with a cold, but am counting on strong ginger tea to ward it off. Also, the other day a friend gave me a jar of carrot marmalade she'd made. It is amazingly delicious. I need to get the recipe and face my canning fears.
And yes, the above photo has nothing to do with any of this.

Also, About Expectations

 Sufjan Stevens/Vesuvius/Montreal

The last time I saw Sufjan Stevens, years ago in Philadelphia, it was one of the best shows I'd ever seen. He and his band wore giant, beautiful flapping butterfly wings (and called themselves the butterfly brigade)--and played amazingly lovely songs.

But then last week I heard  The Age of Adz, his new album and found it kind of hard to listen to--more like his earliest albums--lots of discordant sounds. At the time, I didn't realize he had also put out a beautiful new EP, All Delighted People. Anyway, I went to the concert the other night with no expectations, only to be amazed and delighted at the magical show I saw. Seriously. If he is about to come to your city--go see the show! It was unlike anything I've ever seen, and also sweet and honest and beautiful. The songs were interspersed with anecdotes and tales of his dreams and talk of these new "apocalyptic lovesongs" of his. Truly beautiful and inspiring stuff.

Wholly

i leave home in the dark of morning, drive into the mountains, silhouetted black against blue. by the time I reach park city, the sky is white, snow melt. along 224, the field of clouds--a milk lake. but oh, the return of headaches. sufjan stevens, laundry, sweet potato hummus and homemade pita in between. a baby, a dog, asleep at my feet in the sun. making small dolphin noises. shadows of aspen leaves dance across a face. the gray bustle of baltimore has been replaced by wide blue skies in my heart. not like the way the baby's eyes fall shut half heartedly--but wholly.