Moving!

Hi All -

From now on, I will be moving all of my blogging work to my personal web site www.lauraremson.com.

It's been fun, it's been real and like all good things, it must come to an end. See you on the other side!

YouTube Video of the Day

Okay...so this is from yesterday, but I only decided today to start posting my favorite video of the day. I know it's a big commitment, but I feel as though I'm ready. I really believe that I am up for the challenge.

 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9lp0IWv8QZY

 Susan Boyle is an incredible woman. Not only is she adorable and happy, but she is amazingly talented. What I love about this video is when one of the judges makes the comment about how everyone in the audience was laughing at Susan when she walked in. When she left the hall, no one was laughing. That's so true in our society. People laugh and judge by image alone and quite frankly, it's disgusting. I don't understand how our society got this way, or why we are this way. What gave us the right and the nerve to judge others? I thought that was God's job. 

I hope that this teaches us all a lesson. Don't laugh at people because of their outer image or what they say. 

Rome Goodies....

This is another goodie I found while going through some old things. We tried to make it to 100 Things To Do In Rome and Italy. 

This list was immediately forgotten upon entering the country.

100 Things to do in Rome
1.      Play in a fountain
2.      Go wine tasting
3.      Play European football
4.      See how long we can ride the bus without getting kicked off
5.      Go to an outdoor concert/play
6.      Become great orators like Cicero
7.      Go to the pasta museum
8.      Make your own pasta
9.      Get lost...intentionally
10.     Go on a bike tour
11.     Eat pizza topped with a word you've never heard before
12.     Ride brightly colored moped...if we must steal someone's, then so be it.
13.     Meet the pope
14.     Get an old Italian man to buy you a drink. Bonus points if he's wearing a linen suit
15.     Dress in a toga, stand in front of the coliseum and take pictures with tourists.
16.     Stay out all night long
17.     Invite our Italian neighbors for dinner
18.     Have a picnic in a roman park
19.     Shop for the perfect Italian leather journal
20.     Find a favorite coffee shop and get to know the owners
21.     Go a whole day speaking only Italian
22.     Drink limoncello
23.     Go to the opera
24.     Tan on Tiber Island
25.     Ride in a smart car
26.     Take one of the on campus cooking classes
27.     Always ride in the window seat when on trains
28.     Study outside in some beautiful park
29.     Have at least ten Facebook albums
30.     Attend mass at St. Peter’s
31.     Ride a gondola in Venice
32.     Use the buddy system
33.     Find the Gladiator School of Rome
34.     Go to the Obika Mozzarella Bar
35.     Share gelato with a man!
36.     Hard Rock Café Rome
37.     Go to the bars in Campo de’ Fiori at night so we can see the spooky Giordano statue 
38.     See a puppet show in the Piazzale Garibaldi or the Park Gianicolo
39.     Find out how to say, “Will you take a picture with me?” And use it… on boys!
40.     Stick your hand in La Bocca della Verita
41.     Host a toga party, using the sheets we get from the apartments
42.     learn a gourmet recipe
43.     Get lost in the Roman Forum
44.     Bike tipsy
45.     Find a favorite wine
46.     Pick grapes for wine at a vineyard
47.     Get a picture with the Swiss Guards – bonus points if you can get them to chunk a duce
48.     Have a café where they know your name and your order
49.     Have a group and a place you go to each week, or have a group that goes out once a week to try lots of restaurants
50.     Watch snow fall in the Pantheon, or at least rain
51.     Go to the Ice Club and drink something warm(ing)
52.     Visit the crypt of the Cappuchin friars in the church of Santa Maria della Concezione, a monastery where, since 1631, the walls and ceilings have been elaborately decorated with the bones of 4,000 monks
53.     Chase nymphs in Caffarella
54.     Free food at the Glass Hostaria – make a reservation at Top Table and dinner is free!
55.     Get free pastries at a bakery at closing time
56.     Attend White Night – September night of open museums, cultural events and fireworks
57.     Walk on the Appian Way
58.     Visit the Catacombs
59.     Go to a Roman soccer game-cheer for Lazio or Roma!! ("By the way, the word for 'fan' in Italian is 'tifoso'.  Derived from the word for typhus.  In other words-one who is mightily fevered"...from my book)
60.     visit Piazza del Popolo-with an arch carved by Bernini to honor Queen Christina of Sweden
61.     Visit Palazzo Borghese
62.     COOL FACT: the Tiber Island has always been associated with healing-a Temple of Aesculapius was built there after a plague in 291 BC; in the Middle Ages a hospital was built there by a group of monks called the Fatebenefratelli...and there is hospital there to this day
63.     Visit the Augusteum (a mausoleum intended for Octavian Augustus but has been everything from a Renaissance garden, concert hall, bullring, and fireworks depository)
64.     BEST PIZZA IN NAPLES...pizzeria da Michele
65.     Visit Piazza della Republica
66.     Bargain successfully at the Sunday morning flea market Porta Portese
67.     Swim/ride in an aquaduct
68.     Climb all 7 hills of Rome
69.     See someone famous
70.     Find the Pons Sublicius (the first bridge Trastevere
71.     Find Caesar’s garden villa, the Horti Caesaris

The Art of the Hawker Stall

I wrote this story as an application letter for a job at National Geographic. They chose 8 of 650 applicants and I wasn't one of them, but I don't feel bad - those odds are insane! But no one else has had a chance to read it since August. I'm sharing with the world...enjoy...

“The Art of the Hawker Stall” 

By Laura Remson

As the bus jolts to a stop, there is a quiet excitement in the air. We had finally arrived at the Holland Road Wet Market. Everyone is busy finding lists or making them. Wet markets are permanent, open-air markets found all over the island and this is the best; large, clean and modern, with more stalls than most.

In Singapore there are three national sports; eating, shopping and jay-walking. I had no doubt I would cover the first two, if not all three, before the day was up. Considering the sports, it’s clear Singapore has its own way of doing things. Even its own language, aptly called, “Singlish,” a blend of English, Chinese, Malay and “lah” – the most frequently used word. In writing, “lah” is like a period, lah. 

“Can we have chicken for dinner?” A small boy asks his mother. 

“No lah. Fish,” she answers back, exasperated. 

“I don’t like fish!” he cries. 

“Quiet lah! Come.” She grabs his hand as they disappear into the crowded market. 

When I walk in, there is chaos everywhere. A hundred stands selling the ripest fruits, freshest meats and most aromatic spices. All stands sell the same thing, but it doesn’t matter; they fight for each customer’s attention. The ground is soaking wet, but it isn’t called a wet market for nothing. Flower stalls boast green stocks topped with bright flowers of all shapes and sizes, from fragrant lilies to delicate orchids, the national flower of Singapore. Then, tall, curly stems of lucky bamboo, decorated with small bits of red paper painted with golden Chinese letters. The blistering heat makes it almost unbearable to be outside. Humidity hangs in the air, making it difficult to move, and yet, people wander around, immune to the lethargic effects of the heat. 

The fruit stands have staples like bananas and grapes, but also dragon fruit, a white kiwi which looks like a green and pink fanged grenade, and durian, an Asian delicacy and the “king of fruits.” This pale green fruit is the size of a basketball and covered with spikes. Inside, the meat of the fruit look like lumpy, boiled chicken breasts. “Tastes like heaven, smells like hell,” is the favorite quote for anyone who’s ever had the, “pleasure” of enjoying its unmistakable aroma. I’ve never been brave enough to try it, but I’ve heard both good and bad. 

My favorite is pineapple, tangy and sweet. I go to a stall and choose my fruit, then watch as it is cut. The stall attendant is as skilled as a sculptor. With the fruit in one hand and a razor-sharp cleaver in the other, he cuts the fruit. Drops of the precious juice drip down his trained fingers and in a minute, all pieces of the skin fall to the ground. 

The scent of spices pulls me towards another stall. There are large sacks on the ground full of dried fruits and nuts and small packets of spices. The colors here are as varied as the fresh fruit but richer in their tones. These are the colors of royalty. The same royalty, who at one time had their clothes dyed with these natural pigments. As I pick up one pack and close my eyes, I breathe in deeply, almost forgetting where I am. I can picture a different time and place where people use prized saffron and rock salt, carried over mountains of sand, in place of gold. 

Then, a loud noise. I realize it’s another shopper bargaining over dried apricots next to me. I listen as they name their prices. 

“No lah, I can’t do that.” 

“But the man down there said a kilo for $15,” when most likely, there was not a, cheaper offer. The dollar is pronounced doh-lah, not dollar. They get ‘lah’ in here too. Bargaining here is a friendly exchange that is expected and appreciated. It’s like asking how someone’s day is going. At the same time, there is a sport-like competition to it, one person getting the upper hand in the end. 

Back and forth, one price too high, one too low. Finally, they agree and the fruit is bagged in record time. Content, I wander over to the meat stalls. Whole slabs of meat cut exactly to one’s wishes and another ready-when-you-want-it staple; pick your own chicken – live. Choose your chicken, then come back in ten minutes and it’s ready to go. 

It’s the fish stalls that jump into my sight. They always have some critter making noises. With the fish, are frogs, for their legs, crabs, to be steamed and covered in sauces of red chili or black pepper, and turtles, whether protected by law or not. They live in cages, but desperately try to get away. When I look into a bucket, I find, to my squirming pleasure, a writhing knot of eels, ready to be taken home. The mass sends chills up my spine, and yet I can’t pull my eyes away from the scene. 

Satisfied with the market, I head to the other half of the market. I was about to experience the second Singapore sport; eating. As the melting pot of Asia, one can get any sort of food they want. Thai, Indian, Malay and beyond. The hawker stalls of Singapore are in a word; incredible. Each stall has a sign that displays a rating. These range from A to D, but I’ve only seen a C twice, and only heard of the D. The ratings are based on cleanliness, making it easy to figure out where to eat. People line up three deep at some stalls, where others remain conspicuously empty, the owners sitting at tables nearby, snacking in lazy protest.

Today I was in the mood for a uniquely Southeast Asian dish, roti prata. These flat, doughy treats are made with ghee, or Indian clarified butter. It’s like Indian Crisco. Where normal bread preparation would use flour to stop food from sticking, the cooks slather on ghee. This makes me smile at the miles I’m going to run later. To make these, the dough is stretched and pulled like pizza dough and laid out round and flat. Then, they are folded with corners inward, into a pocket of deliciousness. I can’t help but stare as the pouches are then thrown effortlessly on the shield-like grill. Watching these masters of the prata takes me back to the awe of the taffy pull machine. Prata are best with piping hot and fiery curry and as they crisp up, I watch the stall attendant scoop a bowl to accompany the prata. Turmeric and cumin, with hints of cardamom and chili. The turmeric also gives the curry its intense golden color, with flecks of crimson that indicate its spice. All the food is served on faded burn orange plates and pea soup colored bowls.

I top it off with a glass of iced coffee, made the Asian way; with a dollop sweetened condensed milk. When the coffee is made, it is poured back and fourth to mix it, like an elaborate cocktail, but more innocent. It comes in a Tiger beer mug, or in a small plastic bag, with a bright plastic string woven through top to hold it. You can’t set it down but you drink it so fast, it hardly matters. The bags can even be seen hanging in trees for a quick coffee break. 

At last, time to eat! The prata are golden and flaky around the outside, and chewy on the inside. The curry delicately burns as it goes own and the creamy coffee cools my stinging taste buds. The chicken is infused with the spices of the curry. It stands triumphantly out of the liquid; like a small, proud symbol of what food means to Singapore and its people. I slowly dig the last bits of meat off of the bones with happy satisfaction. 

While eating, a gentle rain begins to fall. I hardly notice it as I attempt to coax the last drops of my iced coffee into my straw. This is Singapore; rain is nothing new. Then again, this is Singapore, and as I pick up my fruit, the rain begins to fall harder. Moments later I am in the road, trying to flag down a taxi.

HONK! HONK!

Perhaps a little too far into the road.

“Taxi!” I reach my arm out in the hopes that one of the blue or yellow cars might be vacant and willing to help me out of the rain. With each wave of rain, the drops are growing larger and coming down more rapidly.             

“TAXI!”

Then finally, relief. A sky blue taxi pulls in front of me, heaven sent. As I jump in, the light in the sign on top goes dark from its glowing red. Inside of the cab is cool, and more importantly, dry. 

As we pull away from the warmth and chaos of the wet market and into the dark mists of the road I told the driver, “81 Lim Tai See,” and lay back into the soft, worn leather of the seat. I could feel the edges of a contented sleep pulling at my eyelids as the cold numbed my skin. And when I reached to my street, I knew I would be jay-walking to get home.

Obama on the Tonight Show

This should be interesting. Obama will be on the Tonight Show with Jay Leno as the first president to appear on a late night show. While others, including Obama himself, have appeared during the campaign trail to promote themselves to the public, this is the first time that a current president will appear.
I find this a very interesting idea and a sign of the times. Things are changing. I feel like part of this is a new time for the country and a new presidency. And what Obama does with him time will have an impact on how he is remembered.
We'll see what happens....

Another Post from YouTube Land

I caught this video one morning flipping channels on my way to the Today show and absolutely loved it. While the song is not my favorite, I thought the video was a fresh idea in a world where every song is a girl hating a guy or a guy hating a girl. That might be what the song is about, but at least they were about to make the video about something else. Plus I sort of feel like it has a good message at the end - "Let's not fight," "Why can't we be friends?" and "Peace"

For good measure...."Walk a mile in another person's shoes"

Did I cover just about every cliché there is?....

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ant7c0N7YxU

Enjoy! Ciao a tutti!

Meghan McCain

Normally, I try my best to ignore Laura Ingraham, a conservative talk-show host. I find her offensive, one-sided, close-minded and stuck in an unrealistic world. That being said, when I read this article on CNN, I was shocked at the lows she sunk herself to.

http://politicalticker.blogs.cnn.com/2009/03/16/kiss-my-fat-ass-says-meghan-mccain/
http://www3.thedailybeast.com/blogs-and-stories/2009-03-14/the-politics-of-size/

She attacked John McCain's daughter, Meghan McCain, a blogger and the author of The Daily Beast, calling her “a Valley Girl gone awry” and a “plus-sized model.”
McCain responded explaining that she has been criticized for her weight since middle school. She suspects that the words from Ingraham come on the heels of her critique of Ann Coulter. (http://www.thedailybeast.com/blogs-and-stories/2009-03-09/my-beef-with-ann-coulter/)
I can’t believe that Ingraham would stoop so low, attacking a critic for her body size. This is such an ingrained part of the media today, and it frightens me. Just as McCain said, it’s frightening to think about what this type of action says about our society and the media which portrays it. McCain is an educated, intelligent person with things to say. That alone would be reason to respect her. On top of that though, clearly, people want to listen. It’s wonderful that she has the opportunity to speak with an audience. (It’s what I’m doing right here). Why make yourself appear foolish, when the adult thing to do is to listen and then respond in the correct environment. That’s the point of debate.
While my views are very different than McCain's, I respect her, perhaps more than most other in the conservative political scene. She is working towards more open political discourse, something I firmly believe in. And for that I would give her the time of the day.
One thing that does bother me about McCain is that just before the election, she announced that she was moving from an Independent to a Republican. While this is a typical Washington action, I think we need to move away from this. No more “flip flopping,” no more jumping across the line. It’s the labels. They are so unnecessary. Why do we have to be Conservative, Liberal, somewhere in between? And more importantly, why does there only have to be two main parties? No two people will think exactly alike, I don’t have the same views on every single issue as anyone else out there.
General frustration on this…