Last night was Clara's going away dinner. Or rather it was a dinner that turned into a getting-wasted dance party. When I saw Clara this morning, about to depart and still quite drunk, I could not help but think of you, Transfer.
The dinner was amazing, anyways. Clara cooked Russian pancakes and despite my apprehensions about her cooking based on her normal diet, the food was delicious. But let me tell you about her diet anyways. First, she eats pickled things constantly. Morning, noon and night, it is pickles. You pickle it and she will eat it, carrots, onions, shallots, beets. She'll even drink the vinegar. In one evening I saw her eat an entire jar of pickles bige enough to keep you, Crosswalk, satisfied for at least a year. Second, she drinks at least a litre of milk a day. At least. She adds a splash of coffee to her cup of milk. She adds milk to everything. She soaks crackers in milk and then sucks them back once they are all soggy. She drowns her canned fruit and vegetables in milk even. Oh yeah, she only eats canned fruit and vegetables...
So now she is gone and I am going to miss her. Sort of. It is definitely nice to reduce the number of people in this room. Now if I can just get rid of H... The thing with Clara is that she is sweet, very pretty and exceptionally smart. She is pretty like a little doll; she sort of looks like the love child of Tina Fey, Natalie Portman and a couple of fairies and elves. And she is intelligent in a way that few people are. She is constantly referring to literature, art, philosophy, etc. and she does it not in a pretentious way. She speaks French, Russian and English fluently and she is learning Chinese. She read Anna Karenina as a teenager and loved it so much that she just decided to learn the language. Just like that. And she is only 20.
Now here's the drawback: she is so out of it and in her own head that one begins to suspect that she is mildly autistic. It's like she really has no idea what is happening in front of her eyes. Going out in public with her is just impossible. She's like, oh let's go here and we go there. Then she sees something else and we go there. And so on and so on. A simple walk through the park becomes a three hour ordeal. We would never get to our original plannded destination. And she has no sense of direction, absolutely none. I honestly have no idea how she got around when she was by herself. When it was the two of us she would constantly be asking where we were and then not believing me when I told her. Oh, and on the Tube she puts her purse on the floor and just stares straight ahead with her dream-face on. She never holds her bag or even looks at it. And she lives in Paris! I don't know how she has not been robbed yet. Especially since I have seen her almost leave her French Identity card on the train and her wallet on the floor of a pub. It's madness, I have never known anyone who was so out of touch with reality.
Anyways, now she is gone and things can be a little more normal here. The room is an absolute disaster and this is my first opportunity to really unpack and settle in. Plus, our little dance party was more like a tornado blowing through. It was fun though, it made me think of my friends. Dance parties are the same everywhere in the world. Even the music. Of course, there was a little more house music than I would have preferred, but there was also some GnR, JLo, Outkast, etc.
I want to go to the National Gallery today.
The dinner was amazing, anyways. Clara cooked Russian pancakes and despite my apprehensions about her cooking based on her normal diet, the food was delicious. But let me tell you about her diet anyways. First, she eats pickled things constantly. Morning, noon and night, it is pickles. You pickle it and she will eat it, carrots, onions, shallots, beets. She'll even drink the vinegar. In one evening I saw her eat an entire jar of pickles bige enough to keep you, Crosswalk, satisfied for at least a year. Second, she drinks at least a litre of milk a day. At least. She adds a splash of coffee to her cup of milk. She adds milk to everything. She soaks crackers in milk and then sucks them back once they are all soggy. She drowns her canned fruit and vegetables in milk even. Oh yeah, she only eats canned fruit and vegetables...
So now she is gone and I am going to miss her. Sort of. It is definitely nice to reduce the number of people in this room. Now if I can just get rid of H... The thing with Clara is that she is sweet, very pretty and exceptionally smart. She is pretty like a little doll; she sort of looks like the love child of Tina Fey, Natalie Portman and a couple of fairies and elves. And she is intelligent in a way that few people are. She is constantly referring to literature, art, philosophy, etc. and she does it not in a pretentious way. She speaks French, Russian and English fluently and she is learning Chinese. She read Anna Karenina as a teenager and loved it so much that she just decided to learn the language. Just like that. And she is only 20.
Now here's the drawback: she is so out of it and in her own head that one begins to suspect that she is mildly autistic. It's like she really has no idea what is happening in front of her eyes. Going out in public with her is just impossible. She's like, oh let's go here and we go there. Then she sees something else and we go there. And so on and so on. A simple walk through the park becomes a three hour ordeal. We would never get to our original plannded destination. And she has no sense of direction, absolutely none. I honestly have no idea how she got around when she was by herself. When it was the two of us she would constantly be asking where we were and then not believing me when I told her. Oh, and on the Tube she puts her purse on the floor and just stares straight ahead with her dream-face on. She never holds her bag or even looks at it. And she lives in Paris! I don't know how she has not been robbed yet. Especially since I have seen her almost leave her French Identity card on the train and her wallet on the floor of a pub. It's madness, I have never known anyone who was so out of touch with reality.
Anyways, now she is gone and things can be a little more normal here. The room is an absolute disaster and this is my first opportunity to really unpack and settle in. Plus, our little dance party was more like a tornado blowing through. It was fun though, it made me think of my friends. Dance parties are the same everywhere in the world. Even the music. Of course, there was a little more house music than I would have preferred, but there was also some GnR, JLo, Outkast, etc.
I want to go to the National Gallery today.
posted by babybritain at 11:08 am
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