So. I sold out, betrayed my English-major-'only-paper-books-are-real-books'-self and bought a Kindle. I caved in to the convenience of purchasing from the comfort of my home, particularly as there are no longer any bookstores near where I work or live. However, I've briefly jumped back on the (infinitely superior) actual book train. I've been making my farewell purchases at Border's and here are some of the winners.
One Day: I read this book without knowing about the movie. I finished it and THEN started to see the millions of Anne Hathaway + Jim Sturgess commercials punctuating my regular SATC rerun viewings. The basic premise is that every chapter takes place on July 15, following two characters for that single day through a period of twenty years. It starts on July 15, 1988, the morning after Dex and Emma have a one-night stand that morphs into a years-long friendship. The book can be annoying because the characters are not always particularly likable. However, the structure of the book is great. Realistically, the most significant moments of your life don't all happen on the same day every year - so you have to spend each chapter trying to figure out - did Emma get the job? What happened between Dex and his girlfriend? Did Emma and Dex get together last November or not? Also, the ending is phenomenal. Read it.
The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake: This book is bizarre. The main premise centers around a girl who discovers, at the age of nine, that she can taste the emotions of people in the food that they make. No big events happen throughout the book - Rose never gets thrown into a national pie-eating contest, or saves someone from suicide based on taste of their mashed potatoes. Instead, it focuses on small things, like the heavy burden of Rose knowing that her mother is depressed, merely from a bite of her lemon cake. Worth reading, but prepare for the fact that Rose isn't the only one in her family with a unique ability.
Confessions of an Economic Hitman: Ever wondered what (actually) happens to all the foreign aid money allocated to third world countries? Or never even thought about it? This book is an interesting crash course in US relations with a number of developing countries, like Indonesia, Panama, Iraq, Iran and Ecuador. The story makes you question the US government and the intergovernmental agencies rather a bit, reminds you how good we have it in the first world and how important little steps - like recycling your used water bottles - can be.
About to start Cutting for Stone - updates on that to come!
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
Monkey Mailman: Not an Option
How do Pete and I stay in touch while he is abroad? Several of you lovely readers recently asked me about my long-distance communication situation, so this is my Peace-Corps-themed transition off of PCV Challenge blogging...
So. There were a lot of jokes prior to Pete's departure about staying in touch via smoke signals and a monkey butler that would run our mail. Some days, I think training a monkey mailman would be the easy option. Overall though, Pete and I stay very in touch considering he lives 3,000 miles away in a town that frequently loses its electricity.
Here are the methods:
VIDEO CHAT: We had a test phase right after Pete's departure - Google-video-chat or Skype? Google wins. He still lives in a third world country, so inevitably, during an hour long conversation, the call will be dropped multiple times, and the quality ranges anywhere from horrible and excellent.
Pete does not have internet access with his host family, so instead heads to the local ciber where he pays for hour-long sessions. This is when we talk, and also where Pete copies and pastes my emails into a Word doc, to be read later.
TEXTING: I can receive texts from Pete. But, for whatever strange Nica-communication-vortex reason, Pete cannot receive texts from me. So, I happily read texts ranging in content from I-just-saw-a-tarantula to I-ate-rice-and-beans-yet-again. He just doesn't get a reply.
Also, since we suspect his Claro-brand cell phone was built in the nineteenth century, Pete can't churn out texts like your average American with an iPhone. I get anywhere from zero to three texts day - which might seem like a lot, until you realize that my best friend and I can go on a 25-text streak about Lady Gaga.
GOOGLE VOICE: I can call Pete on his cell phone for the mere cost of $0.22/minute. This sounds cheap, but adds up quickly, so it's for the occasional, particularly exciting update. Peter can call me back on my phone, but only during the hour-per-day he has internet access at the ciber.
SNAIL MAIL: The classic option, and perhaps my favorite. Because letters are so rare, they are that much more exciting. It takes a letter from Pete about one month to travel from his town in Nicaragua to my Lincoln Park apartment. For whatever reason, my letters only take two weeks to get to him. Chalk it up to the efficiency of the US postal service.
I have been a fan of snail mail since elementary school when I wrote letters to my cousins and my grandparents. This continued through middle and high school, when Stephanie and I sent each other letters, despite the fact that we lived in the same hometown - excellent practice for her departure to Mongolia. Now, with two friends abroad, I have ample targets for my snail-mail obsession.
CONCLUSION: Pete is in the Peace Corps. We don't get to always talk as much as we'd like, and there can be days-long communication gaps. In all though, Pete still gets to hear way too much about the chick lit I'm reading, my trips to the dry cleaners and my thoughts on the latest celebrity gossip.
Well, that's it, readers - and of course, there is the approaching visit. 72 days and counting!
So. There were a lot of jokes prior to Pete's departure about staying in touch via smoke signals and a monkey butler that would run our mail. Some days, I think training a monkey mailman would be the easy option. Overall though, Pete and I stay very in touch considering he lives 3,000 miles away in a town that frequently loses its electricity.
Here are the methods:
VIDEO CHAT: We had a test phase right after Pete's departure - Google-video-chat or Skype? Google wins. He still lives in a third world country, so inevitably, during an hour long conversation, the call will be dropped multiple times, and the quality ranges anywhere from horrible and excellent.
Pete does not have internet access with his host family, so instead heads to the local ciber where he pays for hour-long sessions. This is when we talk, and also where Pete copies and pastes my emails into a Word doc, to be read later.
TEXTING: I can receive texts from Pete. But, for whatever strange Nica-communication-vortex reason, Pete cannot receive texts from me. So, I happily read texts ranging in content from I-just-saw-a-tarantula to I-ate-rice-and-beans-yet-again. He just doesn't get a reply.
Also, since we suspect his Claro-brand cell phone was built in the nineteenth century, Pete can't churn out texts like your average American with an iPhone. I get anywhere from zero to three texts day - which might seem like a lot, until you realize that my best friend and I can go on a 25-text streak about Lady Gaga.
GOOGLE VOICE: I can call Pete on his cell phone for the mere cost of $0.22/minute. This sounds cheap, but adds up quickly, so it's for the occasional, particularly exciting update. Peter can call me back on my phone, but only during the hour-per-day he has internet access at the ciber.
SNAIL MAIL: The classic option, and perhaps my favorite. Because letters are so rare, they are that much more exciting. It takes a letter from Pete about one month to travel from his town in Nicaragua to my Lincoln Park apartment. For whatever reason, my letters only take two weeks to get to him. Chalk it up to the efficiency of the US postal service.
I have been a fan of snail mail since elementary school when I wrote letters to my cousins and my grandparents. This continued through middle and high school, when Stephanie and I sent each other letters, despite the fact that we lived in the same hometown - excellent practice for her departure to Mongolia. Now, with two friends abroad, I have ample targets for my snail-mail obsession.
CONCLUSION: Pete is in the Peace Corps. We don't get to always talk as much as we'd like, and there can be days-long communication gaps. In all though, Pete still gets to hear way too much about the chick lit I'm reading, my trips to the dry cleaners and my thoughts on the latest celebrity gossip.
Well, that's it, readers - and of course, there is the approaching visit. 72 days and counting!
Sunday, August 7, 2011
Final Reflections: The Live Like a Peace Corps Volunteer Challenge
We are officially winding down day seven of the 'Live Like a Peace Corps Volunteer Challenge', and it's time to give some final thoughts on the experience.
As a reminder, my roommate and I both gave up use of air conditioning, microwaves, refrigerators and television for one week (August 1-7). We also committed to a 'reduced living space' (accessing only our family room, kitchen and bathroom) to support my boyfriend Pete, serving in the Nicaragua Peace Corps and our good friend Stephanie, currently in the Peace Corps in Mongolia. In addition to Caroline and I, nine other friends gave up first-world luxuries this past week in order to better understand the PCV experience, and to bring attention to the Peace Corps itself.
So, here is the break-down:
1). Air conditioning: By far, I expected this to be the biggest sacrifice. Chicago has experienced heat wave after heat wave this summer, and the start of the PCV Challenge was no exception. For instance, on Tuesday, August 2 the temperature climbed to 93 degrees, and although the heat did abate somewhat later in the week, it never dropped below the mid-80s.
To stay cool, we used fans and slept in the minimum layers possible. Unfortunately, however, on the days it finally did cool off, our apartment still felt like an oven. Living on the first-floor (sans screens) we did not feel sufficiently safe from mosquitoes or hobos to open our windows, thus trapping the hot air inside with us.
This one was survivable, but I prefer using the AC, plain and simple.
2). Reduced living space: This was my biggest challenge. Without access to our bedrooms, my roommate and I both slept on one Ikea couch for the length of a week. Our sleeping arrangements were the worst part - I am too tall for my section of the couch, and my feet hung off the edge by at least a a foot and a half. Also, in such close quarters, if my roommate was awake tossing and turning, I was soon awake with her.
Powering through a work-week without a solid night's sleep was miserable. I know during training Pete did not have a mattress and was often woken up at 5:00am by chickens, thunderstorms or neighbors chopping wood. I can't imagine doing this for more than a week - kudos, Pedro.
The remaining aspects to 'reduced living space' proved inconvenient, but definitely tolerable. For instance, we have nothing resembling a closet or dresser in our family room- so a week's worth of clothes, shoes, accessories and laundry have slowly exploded in this small space. Check it out:
I also have more of an appreciation for privacy as a precious commodity. For instance - if I wanted to Skype Pete, and Caroline was reading in our family room, my option was a). force her to listen to my hour-long conversation or b). retreat to the floor of the kitchen.
3). Television: This did not end up being much of an inconvenience. Yes, Caroline and I are hopelessly addicted to The Glee Project, True Blood and pretty much any reality show produced by TLC/E!. However, for one week, it was easy to switch to books, the internet and yes - even a night of Mad Libs. We also watched several movies, but viewed them on our laptops as opposed to our TV.
4). Refrigerator & Microwave: I think giving up use of microwaves or refrigerators would have been quite a bit easier. Combined, though, our dining options for the week shrank considerably.
The obvious solution was to eat out for every meal. First, however, my bank account does not allow for this, especially since I am putting money towards both Google Voice calls to Pete and my October Nicaragua trip. And second, this probably would have defeated the point of the PCV Challenge. So Caroline and I pushed through a week of mundane, repetitive food choices - peanut butter sandwiches, bananas, fruit snacks, pasta sans sauce. While I think this was excellent perspective on the misery that is Pete's repeating menu of rice-beans-rice-beans - or Stephanie's diet of constant mutton - I cannot wait to open my refrigerator tomorrow.
Unexpected speed bumps: Caroline and I both (unluckily) got sick this week. She started off the week with a bout of the stomach flu, and I ended it with a Saturday morning migraine. These experiences in particular showed us how miserable it can be to get sick without the luxuries of the first-world. Doing without air conditioning, a bedroom or (god forbid) indoor plumbing are difficult enough when you're at the top of your game...powering through without these amenities while under-the-weather takes a whole different level of willpower. Definite props to the PCVs of the world!
I have stayed in close contact with Pete and Stephanie since their departures, so initially, I wanted to do the PCV Challenge to raise awareness among our other friends - and even people that have never met them - for what they are doing. However, I ended up getting a lot of perspective myself (as you have seen).
Looking forward to getting even more insight to the PCV life when I visit Pete in October!
As a reminder, my roommate and I both gave up use of air conditioning, microwaves, refrigerators and television for one week (August 1-7). We also committed to a 'reduced living space' (accessing only our family room, kitchen and bathroom) to support my boyfriend Pete, serving in the Nicaragua Peace Corps and our good friend Stephanie, currently in the Peace Corps in Mongolia. In addition to Caroline and I, nine other friends gave up first-world luxuries this past week in order to better understand the PCV experience, and to bring attention to the Peace Corps itself.
So, here is the break-down:
1). Air conditioning: By far, I expected this to be the biggest sacrifice. Chicago has experienced heat wave after heat wave this summer, and the start of the PCV Challenge was no exception. For instance, on Tuesday, August 2 the temperature climbed to 93 degrees, and although the heat did abate somewhat later in the week, it never dropped below the mid-80s.
To stay cool, we used fans and slept in the minimum layers possible. Unfortunately, however, on the days it finally did cool off, our apartment still felt like an oven. Living on the first-floor (sans screens) we did not feel sufficiently safe from mosquitoes or hobos to open our windows, thus trapping the hot air inside with us.
This one was survivable, but I prefer using the AC, plain and simple.
2). Reduced living space: This was my biggest challenge. Without access to our bedrooms, my roommate and I both slept on one Ikea couch for the length of a week. Our sleeping arrangements were the worst part - I am too tall for my section of the couch, and my feet hung off the edge by at least a a foot and a half. Also, in such close quarters, if my roommate was awake tossing and turning, I was soon awake with her.
Powering through a work-week without a solid night's sleep was miserable. I know during training Pete did not have a mattress and was often woken up at 5:00am by chickens, thunderstorms or neighbors chopping wood. I can't imagine doing this for more than a week - kudos, Pedro.
The remaining aspects to 'reduced living space' proved inconvenient, but definitely tolerable. For instance, we have nothing resembling a closet or dresser in our family room- so a week's worth of clothes, shoes, accessories and laundry have slowly exploded in this small space. Check it out:
I also have more of an appreciation for privacy as a precious commodity. For instance - if I wanted to Skype Pete, and Caroline was reading in our family room, my option was a). force her to listen to my hour-long conversation or b). retreat to the floor of the kitchen.
3). Television: This did not end up being much of an inconvenience. Yes, Caroline and I are hopelessly addicted to The Glee Project, True Blood and pretty much any reality show produced by TLC/E!. However, for one week, it was easy to switch to books, the internet and yes - even a night of Mad Libs. We also watched several movies, but viewed them on our laptops as opposed to our TV.
4). Refrigerator & Microwave: I think giving up use of microwaves or refrigerators would have been quite a bit easier. Combined, though, our dining options for the week shrank considerably.
The obvious solution was to eat out for every meal. First, however, my bank account does not allow for this, especially since I am putting money towards both Google Voice calls to Pete and my October Nicaragua trip. And second, this probably would have defeated the point of the PCV Challenge. So Caroline and I pushed through a week of mundane, repetitive food choices - peanut butter sandwiches, bananas, fruit snacks, pasta sans sauce. While I think this was excellent perspective on the misery that is Pete's repeating menu of rice-beans-rice-beans - or Stephanie's diet of constant mutton - I cannot wait to open my refrigerator tomorrow.
Unexpected speed bumps: Caroline and I both (unluckily) got sick this week. She started off the week with a bout of the stomach flu, and I ended it with a Saturday morning migraine. These experiences in particular showed us how miserable it can be to get sick without the luxuries of the first-world. Doing without air conditioning, a bedroom or (god forbid) indoor plumbing are difficult enough when you're at the top of your game...powering through without these amenities while under-the-weather takes a whole different level of willpower. Definite props to the PCVs of the world!
I have stayed in close contact with Pete and Stephanie since their departures, so initially, I wanted to do the PCV Challenge to raise awareness among our other friends - and even people that have never met them - for what they are doing. However, I ended up getting a lot of perspective myself (as you have seen).
Looking forward to getting even more insight to the PCV life when I visit Pete in October!
Thursday, August 4, 2011
RedEye & Other Updates
Updates, day four:
To be honest, the vast majority of the work day proved to be quite the struggle. After a wonderful, drug-induced sleep on Tuesday, neither Caroline nor I managed to settle in comfortably to our shared couch last night. It took significant amounts of coffee to power through what felt like the longest, sleepiest day in the entire world.
Happily, though, the day got a significant pick-me-up when we got to read about the PCV Challenge in the RedEye! Caroline and I met up with the Lincoln Park reporter last night for a beer at Glascott's, to talk about how we were faring thus far in the Challenge, and what motivated us to participate. Stephen also emailed Pete and Stephanie, which means that not only did pictures of my Peace Corps friends make it into the piece, but they were quoted as well.
Check out the coverage here: http://neighborhoods.redeyechicago.com/lincoln-park/news-report/2011/08/04/friends-give-up-luxuries-to-support-peace-corps/
And for those of you that read the article and questioned: am I really eating that many peanut butter sandwiches? Feel free to look at this picture I took of my desk today for validation:
Now, here is tonight's game plan. We decided to take our dinner to our backyard (significantly cooler), but had to move it back into the family room when mosquitoes descended in full-force. On the upside, these mosquitoes don't carry the threat of malaria. On the downside, Caroline and I do not have a mosquito net for our shared couch, and thus, will choose to close our windows to the lovely, cool air tonight.
We are currently hanging out in our family room reading celebrity gossip magazines and watching Serendipity on Caroline's laptop. For those of you that plan to imply this is cheating, here is my two-tiered response: a). Stephanie and Pete both have laptops in the third world. They both watch movies on aforementioned laptops. b). There is sacrifice involved on our part. Check out how we are watching this movie on a baby laptop screen, while our giant TV sits silent and neglected in the background:
You may also enjoy the obvious and total explosion of stuff everywhere. This experience is like living in a dorm room, but without the organizational help of things like closets or dressers.
Final thoughts - I got a letter in the mail from Pete today. He mailed it exactly one month ago. Behold the efficiency of Peace Corps snail mail. Caroline and I also Skyped Stephanie for the first time since she left this evening - thanks to the time difference it's already Friday morning there and she was on a quick break from Mongolian language class. The connection was awful, but we did get to wave and shout hello to her Mongolian teachers.
Stay tuned for more updates!
To be honest, the vast majority of the work day proved to be quite the struggle. After a wonderful, drug-induced sleep on Tuesday, neither Caroline nor I managed to settle in comfortably to our shared couch last night. It took significant amounts of coffee to power through what felt like the longest, sleepiest day in the entire world.
Happily, though, the day got a significant pick-me-up when we got to read about the PCV Challenge in the RedEye! Caroline and I met up with the Lincoln Park reporter last night for a beer at Glascott's, to talk about how we were faring thus far in the Challenge, and what motivated us to participate. Stephen also emailed Pete and Stephanie, which means that not only did pictures of my Peace Corps friends make it into the piece, but they were quoted as well.
Check out the coverage here: http://neighborhoods.redeyechicago.com/lincoln-park/news-report/2011/08/04/friends-give-up-luxuries-to-support-peace-corps/
And for those of you that read the article and questioned: am I really eating that many peanut butter sandwiches? Feel free to look at this picture I took of my desk today for validation:
Now, here is tonight's game plan. We decided to take our dinner to our backyard (significantly cooler), but had to move it back into the family room when mosquitoes descended in full-force. On the upside, these mosquitoes don't carry the threat of malaria. On the downside, Caroline and I do not have a mosquito net for our shared couch, and thus, will choose to close our windows to the lovely, cool air tonight.
We are currently hanging out in our family room reading celebrity gossip magazines and watching Serendipity on Caroline's laptop. For those of you that plan to imply this is cheating, here is my two-tiered response: a). Stephanie and Pete both have laptops in the third world. They both watch movies on aforementioned laptops. b). There is sacrifice involved on our part. Check out how we are watching this movie on a baby laptop screen, while our giant TV sits silent and neglected in the background:
You may also enjoy the obvious and total explosion of stuff everywhere. This experience is like living in a dorm room, but without the organizational help of things like closets or dressers.
Final thoughts - I got a letter in the mail from Pete today. He mailed it exactly one month ago. Behold the efficiency of Peace Corps snail mail. Caroline and I also Skyped Stephanie for the first time since she left this evening - thanks to the time difference it's already Friday morning there and she was on a quick break from Mongolian language class. The connection was awful, but we did get to wave and shout hello to her Mongolian teachers.
Stay tuned for more updates!
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
Sleepy, Hungry and Excited
Been waiting for a status update on the edge of your seat? Here are a couple of key words to describe our experience with the PCV Challenge thus far:
SLEEPY: Our first night was - for lack of a better word - miserable. This week, Caroline and I are sharing one L-shaped Ikea couch (sleeping head-to-head), and powering through an August heat wave sans air conditioning.
Around 2:30am Monday night, Caroline woke up. Hot, uncomfortable and (we would soon discover) hours away from a bout of the stomach flu - she tossed and turned until 4am. Your faithful blogger is not a sound sleeper, so for an hour and a half I also lay awake, silently cursing both the heat and my roomie's inability to just lay still. Then, at 4am, Caroline simply could not take the heat anymore. She took the fan that we had purchased over the weekend at Target (but had both been too lazy to construct) and her toolkit and retreated to the bathroom. Please remember, aside from the family room and kitchen, this is the only room in the apartment available to us this week. She built the fan, angled it full-blast at the couch and we both fell into a fitful few hours of sleep.
The next morning, I powered through an exhausted Tuesday at work. Caroline came home around noon with the flu - and with total dedication to the Challenge, neither turned on the air nor retreated to her bedroom.
Tuesday night, utterly worn out, we did not even need to worry about how to entertain ourselves sans TV/access to 50% of our apartment. We both popped some Benadryl and were sound asleep by 8:30pm.
HUNGRY: Stop and think for a moment about how you would make a day's worth of meals without using your refrigerator or microwave. Not that easy?
We agree.
We have both packed the exact same lunch for work for the past three days (a peanut butter sandwich, crackers and a banana). I made spaghetti on the stove for dinner last night. But what to top it off with? Not sauce or Parmesan (both are refrigerated items). I settled for olive oil and pepper - spoiler alert: not satisfying. Tonight for dinner, I ate oatmeal and a banana. I was surprised to learn that making oatmeal with milk (refrigerated) over water really does improve the taste.
EXCITED: I don't want to jinx anything, but it appears that you, dear readers, are not the only ones that find our venture into third-world-conditions compelling. Over the last two weeks, several Challenge participants and I have talked to reporters that want to write about both the PCV Challenge and (more importantly) what Pete/Steph are up to abroad. Stay tuned on the blog, Facebook and Twitter for more details!
SLEEPY: Our first night was - for lack of a better word - miserable. This week, Caroline and I are sharing one L-shaped Ikea couch (sleeping head-to-head), and powering through an August heat wave sans air conditioning.
Around 2:30am Monday night, Caroline woke up. Hot, uncomfortable and (we would soon discover) hours away from a bout of the stomach flu - she tossed and turned until 4am. Your faithful blogger is not a sound sleeper, so for an hour and a half I also lay awake, silently cursing both the heat and my roomie's inability to just lay still. Then, at 4am, Caroline simply could not take the heat anymore. She took the fan that we had purchased over the weekend at Target (but had both been too lazy to construct) and her toolkit and retreated to the bathroom. Please remember, aside from the family room and kitchen, this is the only room in the apartment available to us this week. She built the fan, angled it full-blast at the couch and we both fell into a fitful few hours of sleep.
The next morning, I powered through an exhausted Tuesday at work. Caroline came home around noon with the flu - and with total dedication to the Challenge, neither turned on the air nor retreated to her bedroom.
Tuesday night, utterly worn out, we did not even need to worry about how to entertain ourselves sans TV/access to 50% of our apartment. We both popped some Benadryl and were sound asleep by 8:30pm.
HUNGRY: Stop and think for a moment about how you would make a day's worth of meals without using your refrigerator or microwave. Not that easy?
We agree.
We have both packed the exact same lunch for work for the past three days (a peanut butter sandwich, crackers and a banana). I made spaghetti on the stove for dinner last night. But what to top it off with? Not sauce or Parmesan (both are refrigerated items). I settled for olive oil and pepper - spoiler alert: not satisfying. Tonight for dinner, I ate oatmeal and a banana. I was surprised to learn that making oatmeal with milk (refrigerated) over water really does improve the taste.
EXCITED: I don't want to jinx anything, but it appears that you, dear readers, are not the only ones that find our venture into third-world-conditions compelling. Over the last two weeks, several Challenge participants and I have talked to reporters that want to write about both the PCV Challenge and (more importantly) what Pete/Steph are up to abroad. Stay tuned on the blog, Facebook and Twitter for more details!
Sunday, July 31, 2011
PCV-Eve
You may be wondering, how does one prepare to participate in the 'Live Like a PCV Challenge?' Let me enlighten you.
My roommate and I - both giving up air conditioning, microwaves, refrigerators and television, as well as committing to a reduced living space for the week - took a couple of steps to gear up for a week sans first-world-amenities. Here are my tips to successfully prep for the PCV Challenge:
1). Air Conditioning: Spend lovely summer Sunday indoors (wrapped in the last blanket you will want to look at for a week), soaking up pre-deprivation air-conditioning.
2). Television: While indoors, get final fix of top-tier TV obsessions (The Glee Project and True Blood - duh).
3). Microwave & Refrigerator: Undertake some strategic grocery shopping. The challenge? The vast majority of my packed-lunches and eat-in dinners involve use of either a microwave or refrigerator: salads, cereal (milk), tortellini, soups, sandwiches (cheese, lunch meat, jelly), bagels (cream cheese)...just to name a few.
Now, luckily no one will be forcing me to drink fermented goat's milk this week, or serving me rice and beans three meals a day. However, while grocery shopping I was still faced with the challenge of preventing starvation for the seven days I would be deprived of Kraft spiral mac-and-cheese. Here are some options I came up with:
5). Reduced living space (living room, kitchen and bathroom):
Obviously, refrigerated wine/beer will be inaccessible to us for the next week, so a six-pack of Blue Moon accompanied us through this last day in the first-world.
More updates on how we are surviving the Challenge to come...
My roommate and I - both giving up air conditioning, microwaves, refrigerators and television, as well as committing to a reduced living space for the week - took a couple of steps to gear up for a week sans first-world-amenities. Here are my tips to successfully prep for the PCV Challenge:
1). Air Conditioning: Spend lovely summer Sunday indoors (wrapped in the last blanket you will want to look at for a week), soaking up pre-deprivation air-conditioning.
2). Television: While indoors, get final fix of top-tier TV obsessions (The Glee Project and True Blood - duh).
3). Microwave & Refrigerator: Undertake some strategic grocery shopping. The challenge? The vast majority of my packed-lunches and eat-in dinners involve use of either a microwave or refrigerator: salads, cereal (milk), tortellini, soups, sandwiches (cheese, lunch meat, jelly), bagels (cream cheese)...just to name a few.
Now, luckily no one will be forcing me to drink fermented goat's milk this week, or serving me rice and beans three meals a day. However, while grocery shopping I was still faced with the challenge of preventing starvation for the seven days I would be deprived of Kraft spiral mac-and-cheese. Here are some options I came up with:
- Sandwich (PB and banana)
- Fruit snacks
- Granola bars
- Goldfish crackers
- Soups (the stovetop kind - dinner only)
- Pasta (with olive oil - sauces, Parmesan, etc. all in fridge - drat)
5). Reduced living space (living room, kitchen and bathroom):
- Do seven loads of laundry: Our washer/dryer both lie in our scary, dungeon basement - an area we are not allowed to access until Monday the 8th. We collectively washed enough clothes to allow us to sweat through three outfits/day during this week's no-air-conditioning-heat-wave.
- PACK: More significantly, we cannot enter our bedrooms for the space of a week. Not only does this entail the pair of us sleeping on a couch that can uncomfortably sleep two people, but it means gathering enough clothes, shoes, jewelry, chargers, medicine, make-up and entertainment (Kindles, laptops) to last us until through next weekend.
Obviously, refrigerated wine/beer will be inaccessible to us for the next week, so a six-pack of Blue Moon accompanied us through this last day in the first-world.
More updates on how we are surviving the Challenge to come...
Saturday, July 30, 2011
The Live Like a Peace Corps Volunteer Challenge
This all started because two friends from our high school group left for the Peace Corps in the space of a month. My boyfriend Pete left for Nicaragua on May 10, and my favorite redhead Stephanie departed for Mongolia three weeks later, on June 2.
Last Spring, however, Stephanie stumbled upon something called 'The Live Like a Peace Corps Volunteer (PCV) Challenge.' Created by actual PCVs, the Challenge encourages the friends and family of volunteers to sacrifice first world amenities for one week in order to better understand the living conditions of both PCVs and locals.
Stephanie and Pete presented the Challenge to me un-seriously, joking about how I would never voluntarily sacrifice my hair-dryer (apparently something about me doesn't give off the "likes to rough it" vibe?). Well, if they were trying to pull some sort of reverse psychology, it worked. Not only did I commit to the Challenge (hey, they failed to read the fine print - I get to keep my hair dryer), but I've also rallied ten friends into giving up first world luxuries along with me, from August 1-7.
Specifically, my roommate Caroline and I will give up use of air conditioning, microwaves, refrigerators and the television. We will also occupy a reduced living space, using only our living room, kitchen and bathroom for the week. Our other participants (shout out to Sarah, Jill, Sean, Tom, Dan, Jenna, Tia, Christy and Rachel!) are mixing-and-matching the below:
- Reduced living space
- No air conditioning
- Shower every other day
- No debit/credit cards (cash only)
- No oven/only one stove burner
- No refrigerator
- No microwave
- Internet every other day
- No restaurants/bars/fast food/coffee shops
- No washing machines
- No dish washers
Impressed that Caroline and I will likely have to spoon on our couch sans air conditioning in the height of summer? Well, Pete has not had air conditioning since May. And further, since he failed to successfully kill the tarantula that he found in his room last week, we can all agree that Pete has been probably been big-spooned by a wounded arachnid.
Can't quite believe Sarah will give up use of all microwaves, refrigerators and ovens for a week? Stephanie frequently posts pictures of Mongolia dining - I'm still trying to decide if her host family feeds her goat brains or goat intestines.
We're getting a taste of PCV life. They're actually doing it. So, read their blogs. Check in with them via Facebook, email or snail mail. Their replies will make you truly appreciate your wonderful, indoor, flushing toilet.
Finally, interested in participating in the Challenge? Check out the rules here and stay tuned for updates this week as we all dive into faux third world conditions.
Monday, June 27, 2011
The Lobster Bug
When you live in a Chicago apartment - particularly one located on the first floor of a house built in the nineteenth century - creepy, crawly visitors are something of an inevitability.
I don't like it.
I am not the type of person that handles bugs well, and quite frankly, if I am ever faced with unwanted guests of the four-legged, rodent variety, it will flat-out kill me. Yet, I have now encountered not one, but two, horrible intruders - and (spoiler alert) - I'm not the one that ended up in my trash, wadded in layers of paper towel. Here is the story of my first terrifying - yet triumphant - battles against uninvited company.
#1). So, like any cool twenty-something living downtown, I started my Friday night by watching The Notebook alone. I had wandered towards my kitchen to polish off a bottle of embarrassingly cheap Chardonnay when I saw it - The Lobster Bug.
In reality, I think you would call my nemesis a centipede, but everything about him reminded me of a tiny, fear-inducing lobster. After snapping a picture for posterity, I jogged, in a panic, back to my family room, where I called my dad from a defensive position atop our Home Goods ottoman. Being that my dad was more social and popular than I, he could only spare a few seconds from the party he was attending to offer sympathy and two words of advice: "kill it."
I knew he was right - there was no way I could enjoy the cinematic masterpiece that is The Notebook (let alone sleep later that night) knowing that The Lobster Bug was roaming free in my apartment. I dragged myself back towards my assassination target when I realized he had escaped. Or had he?
When I entered my kitchen, I saw that the bug had already made it across the massive expanse of linoleum and was on the move again - with, I might add, the terrifying speed of a small puma. I had to act fast - I grabbed a wedge (the shoe that would put the most barrier between me and the actual crunch) and did the dirty deed. Completely traumatized by my first Chicago-bug-murder, I left the dead thing under my shoe - in the middle of the kitchen - waiting to wipe him up the following day. I finished off the last of my (now much-deserved wine)and abandoned Allie/Noah for a night on the town.
#2). Once again, I found myself engaging in socially unacceptable behavior - watching Percy Jackson with my younger sister on a Saturday night. And yes, cheap Chardonnay was involved for a second time.
During a climatic battle scene between the teenage demi-gods, I saw the blurred movement of something racing from my fireplace to my couch. Based on its speed (comparable to that of a bronze-medal Olympic runner), I at first thought it was a mouse and nearly died. However, I quickly realized that it was another Lobster Bug. My sister - terrified of insects - stood on my couch and tried not to break into tears while I, now a seasoned pro, stalked it across my apartment to an eventual death under my living room table.
My elderly landlord Wayne dealt with this epidemic by purchasing roach-spray at the hardware store and personally coating our baseboards. Has it worked? Too soon to tell.
Stay tuned for what is hopefully a blissful, bug-less update.
I don't like it.
I am not the type of person that handles bugs well, and quite frankly, if I am ever faced with unwanted guests of the four-legged, rodent variety, it will flat-out kill me. Yet, I have now encountered not one, but two, horrible intruders - and (spoiler alert) - I'm not the one that ended up in my trash, wadded in layers of paper towel. Here is the story of my first terrifying - yet triumphant - battles against uninvited company.
#1). So, like any cool twenty-something living downtown, I started my Friday night by watching The Notebook alone. I had wandered towards my kitchen to polish off a bottle of embarrassingly cheap Chardonnay when I saw it - The Lobster Bug.
In reality, I think you would call my nemesis a centipede, but everything about him reminded me of a tiny, fear-inducing lobster. After snapping a picture for posterity, I jogged, in a panic, back to my family room, where I called my dad from a defensive position atop our Home Goods ottoman. Being that my dad was more social and popular than I, he could only spare a few seconds from the party he was attending to offer sympathy and two words of advice: "kill it."
I knew he was right - there was no way I could enjoy the cinematic masterpiece that is The Notebook (let alone sleep later that night) knowing that The Lobster Bug was roaming free in my apartment. I dragged myself back towards my assassination target when I realized he had escaped. Or had he?
When I entered my kitchen, I saw that the bug had already made it across the massive expanse of linoleum and was on the move again - with, I might add, the terrifying speed of a small puma. I had to act fast - I grabbed a wedge (the shoe that would put the most barrier between me and the actual crunch) and did the dirty deed. Completely traumatized by my first Chicago-bug-murder, I left the dead thing under my shoe - in the middle of the kitchen - waiting to wipe him up the following day. I finished off the last of my (now much-deserved wine)and abandoned Allie/Noah for a night on the town.
#2). Once again, I found myself engaging in socially unacceptable behavior - watching Percy Jackson with my younger sister on a Saturday night. And yes, cheap Chardonnay was involved for a second time.
During a climatic battle scene between the teenage demi-gods, I saw the blurred movement of something racing from my fireplace to my couch. Based on its speed (comparable to that of a bronze-medal Olympic runner), I at first thought it was a mouse and nearly died. However, I quickly realized that it was another Lobster Bug. My sister - terrified of insects - stood on my couch and tried not to break into tears while I, now a seasoned pro, stalked it across my apartment to an eventual death under my living room table.
My elderly landlord Wayne dealt with this epidemic by purchasing roach-spray at the hardware store and personally coating our baseboards. Has it worked? Too soon to tell.
Stay tuned for what is hopefully a blissful, bug-less update.
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
Five Ways to Stop My Boyfriend from Leaving for the Peace Corps Next Tuesday
1). Fake pregnancy.
2). Fake cancer diagnosis.
3). Participate in CIA plot to topple Nicaraguan government, inciting full-scale revolution.
4). Find magician or demi-god to inflict crippling natural disaster on Nicaragua.
5). Ask a random millionaire via YouTube to simply pay my boyfriend not to leave. (Sure, Pete is awfully 'noble' but everyone has their price).
If I have missed any really obvious solutions to my 27-month problem, be sure to comment below. However let's try and maintain some level of elegance to this. Obviously, hiring a Mafia King to break both of his legs with a baseball bat would achieve my ultimate goal, but I'm aiming to keep our young do-gooder in one piece.
2). Fake cancer diagnosis.
3). Participate in CIA plot to topple Nicaraguan government, inciting full-scale revolution.
4). Find magician or demi-god to inflict crippling natural disaster on Nicaragua.
5). Ask a random millionaire via YouTube to simply pay my boyfriend not to leave. (Sure, Pete is awfully 'noble' but everyone has their price).
If I have missed any really obvious solutions to my 27-month problem, be sure to comment below. However let's try and maintain some level of elegance to this. Obviously, hiring a Mafia King to break both of his legs with a baseball bat would achieve my ultimate goal, but I'm aiming to keep our young do-gooder in one piece.
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Basement
At the beginning of the month, I moved to a (yet another) new apartment. The defining feature that I want to note here is not the high sunny rooms, or the carved fireplace or the sun-room. No, the thing you really have to understand to know the character of our new place is our deeply terrifying basement.
When they constructed our house in the 1880s, they obviously built the basement factoring in the height of your average nineteenth-century dweller. Now, though, thanks to modern vitamins and minerals, there is no way for someone taller than your typical modern four-year old to maneuver their way down our cramped staircase in any sort of comfort.
And when Wayne, our elderly (sans cell phone or email address) landlord first showed us the basement? Propped next to our future washer and dryer was an actual painting of what can only be described as a sexy vampire bride. The painting is long-gone, but still hanging out down there are: the creepy fenced-off area (which either hides dead virgins, or frothing hobos), a lone boot (from, I assume, the house's original owner in the 1880s) and an impressive collection of horrible, ugly rugs (which Wayne offered to my roommate and I for the decor of our apartment).
Needless to say, the only rule of the apartment so far is the laundry-buddy system. Well, that and that at least one bottle of wine must always be on hand in the fridge.
More again soon assuming that I haven't been attacked by the zombies, the rat king, the aliens and the hobos all living in my basement.
When they constructed our house in the 1880s, they obviously built the basement factoring in the height of your average nineteenth-century dweller. Now, though, thanks to modern vitamins and minerals, there is no way for someone taller than your typical modern four-year old to maneuver their way down our cramped staircase in any sort of comfort.
And when Wayne, our elderly (sans cell phone or email address) landlord first showed us the basement? Propped next to our future washer and dryer was an actual painting of what can only be described as a sexy vampire bride. The painting is long-gone, but still hanging out down there are: the creepy fenced-off area (which either hides dead virgins, or frothing hobos), a lone boot (from, I assume, the house's original owner in the 1880s) and an impressive collection of horrible, ugly rugs (which Wayne offered to my roommate and I for the decor of our apartment).
Needless to say, the only rule of the apartment so far is the laundry-buddy system. Well, that and that at least one bottle of wine must always be on hand in the fridge.
More again soon assuming that I haven't been attacked by the zombies, the rat king, the aliens and the hobos all living in my basement.
Monday, March 7, 2011
Changes
Evidently, I love an audience.
It took one mere person telling me that they had read some of my old blog posts to rally me into returning here: my old attention-whore stomping grounds. (The fact that I recently moved into a studio with no cable and spotty access to pirated internet has, mind you, nothing to do with it. This post is an ode to my slim base of loyal reader(s); not an attempt to entertain myself in an apartment lacking in the most basic of modern distractions).
First – let’s power through the administrative details. I am no longer an intern. Valentine’s Day marked my first day as an Assistant Account Executive with Weber Shandwick. I won’t bore you with the laundry list of impressive perks coming to a salaried employee, but just so we’re all on the same page—yes, I do have dental benefits, paid vacation and I even upgraded from my intern “pit” to my AAE “pod”. Next, I moved. A former fellow intern recently got a job with an upscale resort in Panama (to clarify - the country, not the Spring Break den of undergrad venereal diseases). She needed someone to sublease her studio for two months; I needed somewhere to live now that I’m logging non-intern hours – convenient, no?
So – what’s on my mind now that I am officially a member of that once-elusive “real world”? Here’s a few tidbits:
1). Finbarr Flynn: The first interview that I officially arranged for one of my clients was with this man: a Dublin-based, Irish economics reporter by the name of Finbarr. While shooting off professional emails to Finbarr coordinating the date, time and content of the interview (about the status of the Irish fund industry, nonetheless), I wondered what college-Michelle would even think of the new grown-up-me. On the one hand, I think the phrase ‘Irish fund industry’ would cause a look of complete and utter incomprehension to cross her face – and further, the early hours required to catch Finbarr in his time zone might just kill her. Yet, landing a placement in Bloomberg with a wackily-named Dubliner could be worse. And at some point, inevitably, we all must sacrifice the hours that never-took-a-class-before-9:30am college-Michelle managed to wrangle…
2). Yellowtail: Living at home for eight months, I become accustomed to dad’s good wine. And mom’s good cooking. Also, the mom-laundry service and lunch-packing. So it should have been a smack in the grown-up face when I had to regress back to my college-years and a). start fending for myself once again and b). accept a serious downgrade in alcohol quality. Strangely enough, though, my old friends Pastaroni and $5 Chardonnay have never tasted so sweet as that first night in my new apartment. Aside from really desperately missing cable, everything about the grown-up lifestyle—from the microscopic kitchen sans dishwasher in my baby studio to the low quality wine I drink out of glasses that must be handwashed on a nightly basis (see lack of dishwasher)—has an exciting ring of independence to it.
Once again, I promise not to let a huge lapse in time pass before my next post. And this time, with only my bargain wine and the inconstant Linksys-access for company – I suspect it’s a promise I can easily maintain.
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