Pour les omelettes baveuses, les grill cheese, le bon café...

Pour la terrasse qui ressemble à une cour avec des chaises et tables pèle mêle...

Et pour le dernier concert de piano dont j'ai profité! En fait c'est le lieu de pratique de nombreux musiciens, ils y donnent des concerts gratuits (et le pianiste du dimanche matin est génial)

Le "Dépanneur" devient un autre de mes ports d'attache pour profiter du Mile-end!

Il est trop sympa:

J'allais oublier, c'est au 206 Bernard ouest...

A pesar de que casi siempre hablo de zapatos de taco alto me siento mucho más cómoda con zapatos de este tipo.  Dulce de Leche Heels es lejos el mejor nombre del mundo, me dan ganas de comérmelo, en serio. En ModCloth siempre usan nombres así para sus productos y me causa mucha risa. Cuestan ¡40 dólares! acá.

Que gracinha! Ontem eu havia visto a propaganda do filme que passaria: Sonhos do Gelo (Ice Pricess), da Disney.

Eu não poderia perder essa chance.

Sem cinismo. Eu gosto dos filminhos da sessão da tarde.

Quando eu morava em Goiânia e minhas tardes eram livres (long, long time ago) eu dormia um pouco depois do almoço e quando eu e minha mãe acordávamos, assistíamos filmecos. Nos divertíamos a beça. E para completar, minha mãe fazia mingau de maizena... ummm! Mingau de maizena é tudo de bom.

E quando o filme era bonitinho eu chorava mesmo. Aí minha mãe virava para o lado para ver se eu estava mesmo chorando... e brincávamos "Mãe, você está chorando?" Ëu não". "você sim!!".

Mas hoje minha mãe está  lá em Goiânia e tive que assistir Sonhos no Gelo sozinha.

Não vi o início do filme, mas vou contar  tudo que lembro.

A mocinha da capa era uma aluna exemplar. O sonho de sua mãe era que ela conseguisse entrar em Harvard (um leve semelhança com Gilmore Girls???). Durante suas pesquisas, ela resolveu fazer um projeto que analisasse os movimentos das patinadoras no gelo. Ela teve acesso a um programa de computador (estilo àquelas filmagens que a Globo mostrava da Daiane dos Santos - a imagem vai se repetindo e consegue-se saber onde errou).

No meio do caminho ela se apaixona pelo esporte e conhece uma treinadora. Pronto. Havia descoberto o sonho de sa vida: patinar. Harvard ficou de lado!

Mas o filme é bonitinho demais. Tem o filho da treinadora, um gatinho com a voz do Clark Kent, que no fim dá à protagonista um belo buquê de flores (eu também já ganhei um).

Eu chorei bem no finzinho... porque foi o seguinte: a mocinha desistiu de Harvard na hora que estava sendo entrevistada por um cara simpático, também de Harvard.

A mãe da menina quase teve um treco. Seu sonho era ver a filha naquela universidade.

Depois de desistir do sonho da mãe, Casey, a mocinha, começa a treinar arduamente para participar do campeonato estadual. Com essa atitude, ficam dois meses seguidos sem se falar.

No fim, durante a apresentação do estadual, Casey está triste por sua mãe não aparecer.

De repente, depois de um tombo, Casey vê sua mãe na platéia.

Aí foi só correr para o abraço. A mocinha fez uma belíssima apresentação e conseguiu o segundo lugar na competição.

Um sucesso.

E eu chorei quando ela olhou para a mãe!!!

Que gracinha!!!

Foi muito lindo mesmo.

-------

Eu preciso de café.

]]> http://marianamarques.wordpress.com/?p=466 Wed, 15 Oct 2008 20:37:37 +0000 marianamarques http://marianamarques.el.wordpress.com/2008/10/15/rio/ (River, Canadá, 2007)

Do alto dos meus vinte e três anos, eu já vi várias histórias – ficção ou não - sobre dois amigos, inseparáveis, que compartilham segredos e momentos. A sinopse de “Rio” realmente tem um quê de Dawson’s Creek: Stan (Adam Budd) e Rotz (Maya Batten-Young) se conhecem, ficam amigos, cuidam um do outro e descobrem mais sobre o outro e si próprios enquanto cultivam a amizade. Stan e Rotz podem ser Dawson e Joey, mas podem também ser aquele casal de amigos um pouco estranhos na fila do Indie.

Sensacional a forma atrapalhada como ele chega para abordá-la em um café. Melhor ainda ela ter recusado a aproximação em um primeiro momento. É isso que a gente deve fazer quando um estranho senta à mesa em que estamos e começa a falar sem parar, certo? E é assim, contando uma história verossímel de amizade, que o filme segue até o final (que não vou contar pra não fazer spoiler, mas compartilhem comigo depois quem viu)

Há aquela falha básica de roteiro, já que acho impossível Stan saber que o pai de Rotz não é vivo só depois de sei lá quanto tempo dividindo o mesmo apartamento com a amiga. Mas vamos perdoar, já que é bonito ver que os amigos nem sempre sabem se expressar (eles vivem começando as frases como um “it is like”), mas nem por isso não se entendem. Compreender o silêncio do outro faz parte da amizade também. Aliás, amigo é coisa né?

Para o meu irmão: é verde

Todos que acompanham meu blog sabem que eu tenho uma relação estreita com o café... mas tenho tomado pouco, pois agora não esto consumindo açúcar branco, pois estou tentando emagrecer. Sem o branquinho, eu só tomo café com leite, pois o adoçante no café não me agrada.

E como consequência disso tudo, estou com dor de cabeça! Será que tem a ver com a abstinência cafeinística?

Na verdade estou com tpm... então juntou tudo.

Ainda bem que meu namorado é um anjo e me entende!

=)

Layout de uma Página web relativa a uma marca de café ficticia contendo instruções para a confecção de café instantâneo:

To change the language of the online game, look for this tool at the top of the screen.

If you're on another Club Penguin page, use this tool to change the language.

Once you've selected Portuguese, Club Penguin will be completely different. There is also a Club Penguin Blog is Portuguese what is different than the English version. Now it only has one post.

There are also less servers, some with Portuguese names.

It also has a word selection list fully in Portuguese.

And some words on rooms have been changed (example: on the side of the Coffee Shop where "coffee" is written, now says "café").
 

It also has a glitch. Your penguin name will be "Penguin123..." but when you log in on English CP your penguin will have its normal name back.

Tell me what you think of Portuguese Club Penguin.

My favorite word is...

Portuguese Club Penguin: http://www.clubpenguin.com/pt

It's chestnut season!

As I promised on the teaser of a beautiful cafe yesterday. Here is my full review. That cafe on picture above is named Rit's. The longer name is Rit's Bandoeng Ice Cream. According to the name, the cafe is located in Bandung and it sells ice cream (with some snacks).

The picture already tells how beautiful this cafe is. The owner used the front area of his house as cafe and I like how it's surrounded with lots of green plants. *what a dream house*

Ready for the ice cream?

Basket of Joy. 20,000 IDR.
...

Banana Caramel. 20,000 IDR.
...

Apple Pie with Vanilla Ice Cream. 23,000 IDR.
*very recommended*
...

The ice cream counter.
...

A garden between the cafe and the owner's house.
...

Want to visit?

Rit's Bandoeng Ice Cream
Jl. Dr. Setiabudi 388
Bandung
ph: +6222 - 2011955

*I'm sorry for disappointing you who think that this cafe is located in Jakarta. :D

When we get home, Mum thinks E might want to lay down and watch playschool or something. E goes over and turns it off "No, don't want to watch TV". She went off pottering around doing her own thing and then comes up to lay down with me while feeding T. We come down for lunch and E tells Mum she wants "fishy" (a can of salmon) and a begemite (vegemite) sandwich. "No! not in bowl" She sits and eats it out of the can and then has her vegemite on toast washed down with half a cup of Mum's warm cup of tea.

We pick A up from preschool and go to the post office to get stamps and a birthday card for Mum's cycling friend. A found a 'nephew' card with a bike on it and said "Sally will love dis one". I didn't have the heart to tell her it was the wrong card, so we sent mum's friend a 'nephew' card. T tries to eat Mum's arm, so we have to stop at Mar-rats to feed T before we go home. Mar-rat is closing and A convinces Mum to go in "No! She's not closed, look her gate is open still, I'll go in". Mar-rat makes some babychinos and Mum feeds T.

Again, this isn’t the promised quasi-academic rant that I keep harping on about, my current employment involves a gargantuan volume of writing and, to be utterly honest, it has taken the joy out of writing for Losing Face in my evenings.  I am plodding along with it though and it will be upon your screen as soon as I think it makes sense.

This however, is a post about living without cash outside of London… as the title may well suggest through it’s tenuous play on words.

Yesterday, a colleague and I had a meeting in Cambridge followed by a scheduled filming session on the high street; our excursion consumed the entire working day.  Leaving Liverpool Street with a hop and a skip in our step despite the cumbersome camera gear, we went on our merry way.  Our tickets were bought on a company debit card online days in advance, the snacks for the train were bought in a station shop without a minimum spend, everything was pretty darn rosy.

Whilst on [the loudest ever] train, my colleague realised that we had managed to remember everything except release forms for our unsuspecting Cambridge-ian-adonian-ites (?!?!?!).  That meant our first stop in Cambridge would no longer be the nearest caffeine vendor but a internet café to hunt down a release form template and to save our afternoon from being a waste of time.

Being a sucker for all things ‘Web2.0’, in which I can even manage my online banking through my normal phone let alone keep track of my friends’ every movement, I could scarcely believe those seedy, rotten internet cafés of 2002 still existed.  Adding another level of technological irony, I actually google-map searched ‘internet café’ on my mobile to get directions to the nearest outlet from my current location… oh this modern age!

Anyway, found the internet café, 2p per minute, 10p per A4 print – awesome.

“No cards accepted” – not awesome.

My colleague says she’ll pay – splendid.

Printer is broken – not splendid.

Man in shop is a rip off merchant and busts us for a minimum cash spend stated in the small print on the back wall of this dimly lit hell hole – utter prick.

We have what we want, a less than watertight release form and directions to a copy place, next stop: coffee.

Cambridge is a beautiful city and, considering I grew up just outside of Oxford, it really is an impressive ‘University town’; the place was alive with bicycle bells and the sweet smell of culture.  Amongst the cobble streets and dominating college buildings is a lovely new shopping arcade/mall and in it was a Costa outlet, however – unlike London where even the cheapest of purchases was acceptable on card – I had to pay for both drinks to come close to their card minimum.  Dang.

Next stop was our meeting at Cambridge Students’ Union; it went well and is entirely irrelevant to this post. We will move swiftly on.

Post-successful meeting, the two of us decided to grab a bite to eat before hitting the streets armed with camera and microphone after all, being continually rejected and ignored takes a lot of energy.

We hit up a familiar brand of high street food convenience, Eat.

There is an Eat within a really hefty stone’s throw of my office near Spitalfields, I go there a lot because it is closer than many other place and I'm quite slovenly come lunchtime but also, beyond it just taking cards, it also accepts pay-wave.  The novelty of which is yet to wear off and I snap at any opportunity to effortlessly beep away my hard earned money on stuff that, if I could be bothered, would be able to bring into work myself each morning.

I entered Eat Cambridge expecting the same level of ease of those in London; the hardest decision being whether I really needed some vegetable crisps or whether I just want them because they are in front of me and look healthier than the almost villainous looking, heat-attack inducing, chocolate brownie right next to them.

I was wrong.  The crisps bit was the easy part.

I had to spend a fiver to use my card…! That is the highest minimum spend I have come across in a long time, and for it to be the case at such a prominent, nation-wide chain – I was more than a little flabbergasted.  I made up my tally by paying for my colleagues lunch after my shocked, “really?!? oh I wasn't expecting that and I am soooo put out by this but too polite to say anything other than by giving you this look” eyes failed to coerce the teller into making an exception for this dumb-founded, London-centric tourist.

As if that wasn’t hassle enough, I had to sign for the purchase!  I know it has barely been 18 months since the Valentines Day switch to ‘Chip and Pin’ in the UK but I genuinely can’t remember the last thing I paid for by signing a receipt.  My card doesn’t even have a signature on it anymore, my washing machine stole away the biro scrawl a long time ago and I have had no reason to rewrite it!

Not only was the surface wet and therefore the receipt stuck to someone else’s spilt coffee, the first pen didn’t work, the kind lady behind the kiosk apologised avidly whilst hurriedly charging about the place trying to find another.  When she found one she passed it to me but dropped it behind her till, scrabbling around for it with her slight fingers she apologised further, it had become an awkward length of time and all I wanted was my fucking vegetable crisps.

Eventually she wormed the pen out hiding, passed it to me, I signed, she pretended to check the signature against something that I know doesn’t exist and politely handed me back my card with a smile and fist full of coffee stained receipt.

Joy.

I can’t even be bothered to go into detail about the saga of paying for photocopies of the release form, rest assured it follows a similar theme added to only by my increasing agitation and home-sickness for unquestioned plastic purchases.

I guess, following from my last post about Digital Money Forum’s take on why cards are still a costly choice, yesterday was an excellent example of why that is the case.  It is almost a vicious circle; the minority of purchases are by card and therefore the system is weighted towards the cash majority and so fewer people will choose the more expensive card alternative, which means the system will remain bias toward cash purchases… et al.

One thing that I am certain about, Losing Face - as a bet, an adventure, experiment or however you might see it – would be much harder (if not impossible) if I lived outside London.

bueno.
deberia de estar dibujando, pero no tengo mis lentes y como soy uber ciega, el ashurado no me queda tan bien.
asi que no tengo sueño, pero tampoco puedo hacer algo de provecho.

y hoy no estuvo chido. bueno al menos las ultimas horas.
y norma ya se durmio.
y keyla no contesta su cel.
y mau me asusta con sus videos de economia y crisis.
y beto... beto si tiene sueño.

y yo... pues a ver que hago.
seeyap.

When in San Fran last year, Suzanne suggested that I look up Susan's address and drop by to say g'day. I did. Unfortunately she was still interstate or overseas at the time. Not during this trip though. Susan is just such a beautiful person at heart and one of the kindest, most thoughtful people I can recall meeting - and yes, this impression is one that is very quick to become recognised upon spending some time with her. Javier should count his blessings over and over, and any man should only ever hope to meet a woman with similar personal attributes...anyhoo, I digress.

After a somewhat hectic Saturday morning in getting ready to bail on my hotel in the stix (i.e. halfway between work in San Jose and San Fran), my first task was to help Suzanne source 30 limes (limon verdure to some) for the drinks at the wedding dinner later that day. Should anyone need limes in San Francisco, Safeway at Bay Street have an abundance of them at US$0.30c each.

Next task was to grab some coffee and brunch. We spotted a pretty cool looking cafe

Notes From The Underground
2399 Van Ness Avenue (Cnr of Green Street)
San Francisco, CA
Phone: +1 415 775 7638

Sadly a cool looking cafe is all it was IMO. Not only were they out of bagels (on a Saturday - sacre bleu), however the multi grain toast was anything but grainy, and the double espresso too hot, too long a shot, and tasted like disgusting. I could muster two or three small sips before leaving the remains. I would happily take the house brown and water from Judy's the previous Saturday, over this stuff. And this coffee initially started with crema. And the omelette Suzanne had dished up looked like the dogs breakfast and one that the dog said "no thanks" to. Again, points to Judy's for a far better result.

So on to the main event. Arrived at the church - which doubled downstairs as the function area - and dropped off the limes to the barman Drago. He was a pretty cool chap. Seeing as we were there early, Drago and I shared a couple of shots of Vodka as a starter. We couldn't determine what brand the vodka was, it was just a large, pyramid shaped bottle with minimal blue print and a blue lid. It was without doubt the weakest Vodka I have ever had. Usually two shots in close time gives me a hit of the non caffeinated kind. This stuff did nothing. Zilch. Not even a slight feeling of light headedness.

The church (Serbian Orthodox) was small and quite pretty. Almost typically same to the many other Orthodox churches I have seen, just with lesser smatterings of gold plating and gilding than the Greek Orthodox churches I have seen quite a number of. Susan and Javier were dressed to the nines and looked like the bees knees.

The ceremony itself was lovely and had a few moments of unexpected humour from the bride, groom and priest. Certainly lent to the occasion that much more and will be one ceremony that will stand out for me as a result.

The dinner was a curious (but not in that sense of the word) affair as it started soon after the wedding given that most folk just had to walk around to the side of the church and use the function room entry. All of a one minute walk. Most folk were already well tucked into the juice within seconds of walking in. Service staff had trays of plum schnapps in abundance and suggesting that folks drop that stuff like it were shots. Now depending on who one listens to, there is a different manner in which Schnapps should be imbibed. A older Serbian guest who I had been chatting to a bit prior to the ceremony told me that the correct way to drink it was slowly, to savour the drink, as this is the Serbian way to drink it; whereas the incorrect way was the Bosnian way in dropping it like a shot. Clearly she had marked out that the waitress was Bosnian. Somehow I don't think I will use this logic at any future Serbian wedding.

More interesting to this was the "dessert" table as there was literally one at the back of the room with the huge three tiered cake atop, and trays and trays of the other desserts - a range of sweets, cakes, macaroon type thingies etc. It was interesting as there were two tables of folks who had already started drinking

coffee after raiding the desserts....PRIOR to dinner actually being served! So what do some of the folks (including me) do? We raid the table as well and start chowing down on some sweets before the savoury too, much to the displeased looks from one of the waitresses. This same waitress gave our table a similar look when someone asked for extra potatoes during the dinner service, as they were delicious and sadly not enough to service 10 folks per table. If you don't ask, you don't get. We got. Perhaps some remorse too afterwards? ;-)

Three touching speeches later, there was much dancing afterwards and much more merriment to boot.

The worst part of the night though was trying to get home from that location - I defy anyone to find a taxi en masse (or for that fact, at all) around Turk and Baker Streets towards midnight and after that time. Calls to a taxi company yield zero results, so the best option after nearly an hour waiting after all the key parties have left, is to ask for a ride from Drago. And he even refused the offer of compensation for going out of his way. Thankfully with much coaxing, he did accept our monetary gratitude on top of our many thanks.

A lovely event and night to end this trip to San Francisco, however it was a week that promised so much time at the start, delivered so much happiness by the end, and pissed off way too quickly. The realisation of having to say goodbye again to Suzanne was not pleasant, however will see where my travels next year take me. I never know these days where I will end up and would not have expected my follow on trip from San Fran to have ever happened, at least not at this point in time.

Until the third trip San Francisco.

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OMFG!!!

¿Lo mejor? Esta a 4 cuadras de la oficina :)

Y si al parecer sigo trabajando cerca de Villa Hermosa, como lo he estado haciendo desde hace un par de meses, me ire a dar una vuelta, espero que ya lo terminen pronto...

PD: En cualquier momento llega este puto a decir que "estrella billete" no vale madres!

PD2: Cervantino, alla voy!

PD3: Mi gurú de la fotografía...

Friday afternoon was spent with one intention in mind after hitting San Fran - Fisherman's Wharf and hiring a bicycle. Picked up my ride at Bay City Bike and was off on a near four hour ride. The typical end highlight of most riders is the treat of crossing the magnificent structure of the Golden Gate Bridge. Prior to doing so, I took the advice of the rental dude and cycled via the Palace of Fine Arts as well as through numerous parts of The Presidio of San Francisco. One of the greatest discoveries (well sort of discovery) I made on this day was The Warming Hut. Suzanne suggested the prior day that I try out this place for a proper espresso machine made coffee as she had taken the day tour with a group of others in town for Susan's wedding.

Had nothing to lose, so grabbed my brunch and ordered a double espresso. Not only did was it served up in the small sized take-out cups that an espresso should be served in, it was the right size of shot (gasp, shock, horror!) and tasted like the best double espresso I had had since I arrived a week earlier. Very, very good fare in a city that lacks decent cafe and coffee options. Worth a visit if one is in the area.

Warming Hut
Presidio Building 983
Marine Dr & Long Ave
San Francisco, CA
Phone: +1 415 561-3040

The rest of the ride was as wonderful as expected. It was a treat to walk across and back on this bridge last year on a beautiful spring day, and was just as great on a stunning Autumn afternoon. I did not do the ride down to Sausalito given it was getting chilly, the sun was starting to drop, and as I was meeting Suzanne and co for drinks and dinner. Next time I am in this town, I think I will do the hardcore riding course that takes in some longer climbs as well as the ride down to Suasalito and through to the Muir Woods area that I drove to the prior weekend.

Post ride I met up with Suzanne and some of her friends who were also in town for Susan's wedding the following day. A great (small) crowd all up and one of the best nights I have had with impromptou company, that I can ever recall. Amazing at how there was a real click among the five of us. Usually there is the experience that one party or some don't gel, thankfully not in this situation. Drinks were at the funky, dimly lit bar

Tonic
2360 Polk Street
San Francisco, CA
Phone: +1 415 771 5535.

Next stop was sourcing somewhere for dinner. This was quickly found at a place across the road -

Rex Cafe
2323 Polk Street
San Francisco, CA
Phone: +1 415 441 2244.

A pretty cool find and quite a busy place throughout the night. The food was ok, however the furthest thing to the "Fine Dining" claim on the website front page. More like what I expect of a cafe-restaurant type meal with the standards on the menu and a few specials that could also be considered standards at most other places. Fine Dining is not exactly hamburgers with fries, well I suppose though it depends on what ones definition of Fine Dining is. Thankfully nobody ordered the item that (on the website) looks like a dog turd. In fact, on looking at all the food photos, it doesn't look appealing and I wouldn't go there based on that.

Sadly though, all good nights come to an end, however not without a little more adventure to be added. Suzanne and I made a quick pit stop to a store across the road and were on our return journey. Half way across a pretty regular jay-walk, a couple of police were rolling up to the red lights in their cruiser. They pulled up short to have a chat with us and the driver pointed out the white lines further up the road between the traffic lights and asked if we knew what they were for. We replied with the thought that it was a suggested crossing spot. The officer answered with - I kid you not - "No shit Sherlock!". Not a reply I would expect from a dearly beloved SF lawman, but rather one from NYC. Upon this being said, we looked at the officers, and proceeded to complete our jaywalk to the waiting group.

Could've happily ended San Fran on this night as such occasions are not always common and a great way to finish up a trip with. Even if I never catch up with this crowd again, it was a night that I will not be forgetting any time soon.

My friends and former colleagues, Brent Sedo and his wife DeNel were lucky enough to spend last winter in Mexico. When I put the call out to my friends and relations for survey participants, Brent responded by sending some great photos of the coffee shop he worked out of in Mexico. I just love the one with the chickens. What a hoot, or cackle should I say!

Being a professional writer and editor for many years, Brent’s work is rather portable so wintering in Mexico didn’t require him to lose time (or money!) by being away from the office. Two of his main gigs are as Editor of the Sports and History sections of Suite101 http://suite101.com, a well-known and well-respected online magazine. Check out his work. Brent and I both worked on a print magazine many years ago called REALM which alas, is no longer in print.

DeNel ‘s rightful title is Dr. DeNel Rehberg Sedo. She is a Professor of Communications at Mount Saint Vincent University in Halifax, and she is passionate about books and reading. The Beyond the Book Project http://beyondthebookproject.org ,of which DeNel is the North American Director, is all about reading and reading communities. I was fortunate enough to be the site assistant when the research team landed in Vancouver. It was a wonderful experience.

As Brent and DeNel’s Mexican sojourn proves, your local coffee shop (wherever your locale happens to be) can be a dandy and entertaining place to work from.

Thanks again to Brent and DeNel for their support of this project!

I’d love to hear from others who have worked out of coffee shops perhaps far a-field.

Thanks for dropping by and I’ll save your seat until next time!

[caption id="attachment_256" align="alignleft" width="128" caption="Photo by Brent Sedo"][/caption]

]]> http://indianmasala100.wordpress.com/?p=3 Tue, 14 Oct 2008 20:08:35 +0000 chennaivijayawada1 http://indianmasala100.el.wordpress.com/2008/10/14/indian-masala-mallu-shakeela/  

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