Buy One Get One Free...Sort Of

Last week, I made a mistake. One of those mistakes where even in the split-second that the decision is made, you know it won't turn out the way you envisioned it.

Do we all remember the crockpot I got off Asian E-Bay? The one who came to my stove's aid in its hour of need during its convalescence? To refresh your memory, read here. So needless to say, my dear crockpot and I have a long, happy history together.

Until recently.

It often happens that when our househelper buys chicken, she puts it all in one plastic bag and sticks it in the freezer, creating one big chicken ice cube. When I set out to make some BBQ chicken for dinner, this is exactly what I found. So here was my train of thought...

Chicken.
Frozen.
Too big to fit in crockpot.
Must break apart chicken.
Smash it apart. Yes, that sounds fun.
Use the floor? Use the countertop? No...
Wouldn't it be convenient when the chicken breaks apart for it to already be in the crockpot?
Yes, most definitely convenient.

So I lift the chicken brick about a foot above the crockpot (glass mind you) and let it fly. It was during the chicken's air time that I realized that this was not going to turn out well in the end.

Exhibit A:





Exhibit B:



A few days later, my friend found the exact same crockpot on Asian E-bay. A few days after that, a huge box arrived at my door. Way too big just to be a crockpot. Upon opening the box, I found that the shipper had included a pressure cooker as well. (Oversights like that are pretty common on our side of the world.) I have no clue how to use a pressure cooker but I find it pretty ironic that my blunder was rewarded with a most useful cooking gadget that I'm sure I need and will grow to love.

Once I figure out what it does. Does anyone have a clue?

Higher Level Math

Today, in my tutoring session, I learned the words for "add," "subtract," and "multiply." (Not sure why "divide" was left out...maybe the other three math functions have a teenage girl clique and "divide" is the Ugly One who gets left out?)

So I'm supposed to read (yes, read. I am learning to read! Illiteracy, your days are numbered!) from my text book the following:

6x7 is how much?
6x7 is...

I rattle off the Asian-ese with no problem, but then come to a screeching hault. I thought this was supposed to be language study, not flashback to third grade multiplication tables? Oh multiplication kickball (true elementary school game--North Oaks Elementary really did rock the house), where are you when I need you? Mrs. Osborne, faithful third grade teacher, let me hear your sage mathmatical wisdom whisper in my ear...

Meanwhile, my tutor begins to prompt me. I decide to bust out my cell phone calculator to help this exercise along.

Forty two. 6x7 is forty two.

My tutor is impressed when I come up with the next answer so quickly. (He didn't know about the cell phone.)

I guess it should be promising when a crazy tonal language that once sounded like a fastfood menu gone crazy now proves to be more manageable than simple multiplication facts. Then again, maybe I should be making multiplication flashcards instead of vocabulary flashcards...

Ice Cream Soup

Last weekened we hosted a "stay-cation" of sorts at our house with the other American friends that live here in our city. We decided to spring the big bucks and buy import food treats--including "real" ice cream Dreyers for around $8 a pint! After the madness of nearly 30 adults and kiddos in our house, we were richly compenstated by all the goodies left behind. A lot of goodies. Literally, I drew blood from my finger trying to get the drawers in my freezer shut yesterday. (OK so I've got a little freezer with weird drawers but you get the idea!)

Kevin, being the protecter husband that he is, has assigned himself the arduous task of cleaning out the freezer in order to avoid such future injury to his precious wife. Translation: eat yummy ice cream every night. Being the domestic diva (well sort of kind of at least) of this casa, it's very rare to find ol' Kev Kev in the kitchen. But on one particular night this week, I was detained and Kevin had no choice but to prepare his ice cream himself.

It's not uncommon for ice cream to come out of the freezer as hard as a rock, and seeing that I still haven't purchased forks & spoons of my own (still waiting to get a hold of the ones I left in America--ahem--Beth Wilson), I make sure to soften the ice cream a bit as not to bend my borrowed spoons. Kevin has seen me do this before so he thought he would follow suit. But unfortunately, the fact that I use the defrost function and only for 10 seconds or so, escaped his recollection. I'm sure you can all guess what happened to dear Kev's delicious (and might I add expensive?!?!) evening treat. You guessed it...warm, melty, sticky, gooey ice cream soup.

A funny thing that comes with learning a second language is that your language ability is usually limited to your spheres of life. This means that Kevin knows very few kitchen words. Another funny thing about learning a second language is when that word you want to say sounds remarkably similar to some other word you didn't mean to say, something inevitably hilarious comes out of your mouth.

Case in point: After Kevin concocted his ice cream soup, he confessed his culinary blunder to me and says, "Well, I don't even know how to work that carrot anyways!"

Disclaimer: This story really is so much funnier if you speak Asian-ese. So for those of you blog readers who do, hope you enjoyed yet another newbie language blunder! For those of you who don't, consider picking it up. It provides endless hours of entertainment!

A "Weighty" Decision

Seeing that my marathon days have now come to a conclusion (there's not much pleasure in long, long runs when there's a gray sky and lots of curious onlookers outside), I've had to stir up some creative juices and broaden my athletic horizons. A few friends in the states had previously spoken highly of this 12 disc work-out program called P90X. Having always associated exercise videos with Richard Simmons doing the pony in neon spandex, I wasn't quick to jump on that bandwagon. But I finally bit the bullet and tried it out, only to find out that these things are hard. Really hard.

I needed to purchase some free weights to go along with my little endeavor so one Sunday I rode my bike to a nearby market where I was told I could find them. After wandering around several shops for some comparative shopping, I started developing that dull headache that I often get on shopping expeditions. For one, I was speaking my new language. Second of all, this purchase required higher level math. This weight cost this many local dollars per pound but this one cost this many local dollars per kilogram. Converting kilograms to pounds, local dollars to real dollars in an effort not to spend too much, all the while trying to understand the sales ladies (and defer their questions why I wanted to buy men's weights) and articulate myself became quite a challenge. I finally made a selection, bargained down the price a bit, and happily left the market with my purchase all boxed up.

Well, to be more specific, a helpful sales guy carried my purchase out of the store for me. Perhaps if I had been the one to carry my box, I would have forecasted the challenge that lie before me: getting a 60 pound box home with only my bike to assist me. The trek home went something like this:

Walk my bike 20 feet or so until the weight on the back somehow sent the back tires air born.

Recover box. Painstakingly place it in my basket.

Venture another 50 feet or so. Become unwarrantably confident.

Spy a cart full of peaches for sale. Only 2 local dollars a pound (roughly thirty cents). I can't pass up an offer like that!

Depart from the peach cart with an extra four pound of peaches, bringing my total weight load to 64 pounds.

My unwarranted confidence gets the better of my as I decide to attempt to ride my bike. My box of weights, my peaches, and myself end up on the ground. Right in front of a bus stop and quite a few chuckling onlookers.

Repeat process of re-loading box into basket but this time with the assistance of a concerned bus patron who decides to offer me the helpful comment: "It's too heavy." Thank you, sir, I know.

My confidence in check, I cautiously walk the rest of the way home.

Making it up the bike ramp of my apartment building and into the elevator was also a challenge but I'll leave that to your imagination.

The moral of the story: if one ever wants to make a purchase exceeding a certain weight limit, it is best to take a cab.

Thankful Day

I think living overseas, if you let it, can make you a more thankful person. The things I once took for granted or even considered my "rights" in America are not so easily come by here. We ex-pats can either become bitter & cynical or thankful for the realization that any good thing we have really is a blessing. So here is my thankful list for today:

1) the sky is blue!!
2) there is water in my pipes!!
3) I got to take a shower this morning!!

The list could go on but it's study time now...

Happy Thankful Day to you!

The Woes of Illiteracy

Today, in the ultimate manifestation of irony, there is plenty of water outside but none in my home. Interpretation of my sage prose: it's raining outside but the water is turned off in our entire apartment complex.

It's days like this that I wish I could read because apparently there was a sign on our door informing us of this small inconvenience. Unfortunately, however, the sign gave no indication of when exactly the water will come back. I'm thinking about starting a "pool" among the neighbors (thank you, amazing pun!). You know, we can all make bets about when we'll have water again, winner takes all! That could definitely be a good way to meet the neighbors and get some language practice...

It's really not that big of a deal since we don't drink the tap water. It's just a matter of not being able to bath, brush our teeth or do the dishes. And who really needs to do those things anyway? We thought back to our Viva Europa adventure and figured if we could live out of a tent & backpacks for three weeks, then a few days of creative general hygiene won't be so bad.

Well, my dirty little self is off to do some more studying...

Tour Guide Barbie

Remember that part in Toy Story where Mr. Potato Head, Hamm, and Slinky Dog cruise around Al's Toy Barn looking for Buzz with Tour Guide Barbie at the wheel? Well, that was me a few weeks ago. Except we weren't in a toy store, we were in one of the world's biggest cities. And I wasn't giving tours to cowboys and piggy banks but to some American friends that came in town. And I'm not made of plastic nor are my feet sporting the perma-high heel wedge. But all of these things are beside the point...

My tutor Anita (who also happens to be one of my best friends here) and I took a three-hour train from our city to the Big City where our friends were flying in from the states. Their flight didn't come in until nearly ten (which in reality ended up being nearly eleven) so we had some time to kill. I took her to my current Big City favorite spots--TGI Fridays and the import grocery store!

Now this place is certainly no HEB or Kroger but it makes my familiar-food-loving-rice-overloaded heart (or stomach rather) go pitter-patter (or perhaps "Feed me, feed me!!" if we're going with the stomach theme) at the sight of all the familiar and yummy food. I walked Anita up and down every aisle and gave her commentary on everything I could think of:

"This is Honey Bunches of Oats, my favorite cereal in America but I only buy it here on special occasions."

"This is Chef Boyardee, a staple for busy moms with kids to feed."

"This is Kraft Mac & Cheese. Somehow a package of orange powder magically turns into cheese when large quantities of butter & milk are added."

"This is turkey deli meat, my all-time favorite. This one especially only gets purchased on special occasions because it's nearly 10 USD for a meager box."

"This is Spam, I'm not sure what it is or why people eat it."

With a suitcase full of my must-haves (this is how we grocery shop around here--with empty suitcases!) and a Dr. Pepper for Anita, we headed to Friday's for lunch.

After picking up our friends at the airport, we spent the night at the luxurious Holiday Inn (note: I am not using luxurious sarcastically! After some of the hotel beds I've slept on here (otherwise known as plywood!), I'd come back to this hotel anyday!)

The next day was a busy one. The Great Wall of...ummm...Asia, a famous city square, and a five-story tourist shopping place. But since this was my third time to visit all of these places, I was more excited about visiting Subway for dinner!

Once we were back home, we spent the next week showing our friends around the city and meeting people. After a tiring ten days, our friends went back to the Big City to fly back over the big ocean.

So if anyone else is in the mood for a 24 plane ride, I'll pick you up at the airport and show you the town: TGI Fridays, import grocery stores, and Subway Sandwiches! If you're lucky, I'll even take you to that big, boring wall.