Tales from a Dark Place

Prologue

Well, not really dark, at least not where I am. But since being laid up with this back thing (yes, still, which means that in general, my life and I have also been quite still), I haven't had exciting adventures to recount. I finished reading Harry Potter "the Sixth", have begun reading Harry Potter "the Seventh" by day, and Atul Gawande's Complications by night. Every couple of days, I'll get out of the house. Otherwise, I look forward to late night re-runs of "Sex and the City", or discovering new reality TV shows like "Hell's Kitchen" (a good one, I must admit). I watched the Beezys (my College roommates) iMovie last night. Mmmm, nostalgia. Right now, I'm enjoying a delicious bowl of peanut butter corn (recipe at the bottom for all my dear friends who have just entered the real-world of Cooking For Oneself), and I know what you're thinking -if she snaps a photo of her lunch and posts it to this blog, then what really is the difference between the summer 2006 "stories" and this so-called "new" version? Don't worry, no photos of my food (unless I concoct something worthy of "Hell's Kitchen").

The Tale

But now I have an entertaining story for you (based on elaborated imaginative extensions of my sister's true story a couple nights ago). She went with a friend of hers to this restaurant in downtown Montreal called Au Noir. Basically, you enter a dimly lit foyer where you can look at a menu and decide what you want, or be a little adventurous and order the "surprise" meal (having informed your blind waiter or waitress -yes, they are all blind -of any allergies and other dietary restrictions, obvi). You are then led into a pitch black, dark restaurant where you are seated and where you will eat. There is one small little orange dot of a light over the exit, but apparently, still not enough light for you to eventually "adjust to the dark". My sister thought it was a flashing light, but it turned out to be her friend's head rocking back and forth in front of the light. People are talking and as the girls await their meals, they suddenly hear a splash and the couple sitting across from them suddenly stop their chatter, and ask (very concerned and panicked), "Is anyone wet?" Apparently a glass was knocked over. I know, I too was surprised no one knocked anything over before they were even seated.

My sister then hears some shuffling of feet behind her, and then a gentle thud on the ground. What fell down? Some scrambling, and then a second later, their waitress' voice behind them, "Here's the bread" as she sets the basket down in front of them. If you ask me, I think they were served fallen-on-the-ground bread. And I'm sure nothing could really be done about it either way right. Think about it. Suppose my sister said, "Nice try -you just dropped that bread, bring us a new basket". I mean, the waitress could have nicely said, "Of course, sorry" and having taken back the bread basket, remained standing behind them silently, counting to thirty, and then put the same basket back on the table. How does one regulate these things in the dark? They couldn't suddenly turn on the lights -imagine how humiliating it would be for the guy picking his nose across from his date, or the woman falling asleep in the midst of her dull husband's monotone monologue, or the girl about to leave her unsuspecting companion dine-and-dash style (cf. "That 70s Show"), so that they would be left with the bill? No, that would not do. I do hear there are lights in the bathroom and kitchen though, just in case you were wondering, but I am still puzzled as to how this kind of a place is inspected during operation hours.

Anyway, at long last the dinners arrive, and my sister and her friend scrape their forks and knives on their plates trying to feel out their food. Finally, my sister finds her meat and cuts a "piece", not realizing that in fact, this "piece" is half of the veal (she found out what she had ordered afterwards), which she then attempted to feed her friend as a "taste", and after spent a significant amount of time, looking for "where the food was" on her plate, confusedly. Then, of course, my sister also orders the "surprise dessert" which turns out to be some delicious chocolatey thing. Apparently though, the whole experience was "cool" and the food was quite good -clearly not everyone's cup of tea though, as this tale makes evident. My parents and I, especially upon contemplating the various possible scenarios, found it as hilarious as it seemed sketchy. I conclude: a good place to play a nasty prank!

Epilogue

Well now, not to worry, there will be adventure in my own summer too: my tickets to Flagstaff, Arizona are booked for mid-July and I will indeed be seeing (inshallah) the Grand Canyon. Also, for a week at the beginning of August I will be at a Mayan Riviera resort in Mexico for my best friend's brother's wedding. So excitement that belongs to me is on its way, I promise.

P.S. Recipe for Peanut Butter Corn:

1. Bit of olive oil in a pan or small pot, when it's hot, throw in some (maybe 1/3-1/2 of a tsp?) of each cumin seed, mustard seed, fenugrek seed, dried lemon leaves (if you can't find this last, no worries)
   
2. Let them go sizzle-sizzle, then add a large can of corn (drain the liquid) or frozen corn, 1/2 tsp salt or to taste, 1 tsp lemon juice, a 1/4 tsp of tumeric powder, 1/2 tsp of cumin powder, 1 tbsp of chopped or dried coriander, stir stir stir
3. Optional: add half a chopped tomato (my mum likes adding tomato, you could even add a tbsp of tomato paste I think)
4. Add a couple of generous tbsp of peanut butter, stir stir stir and simmer simmer
   

Summer Musings: Anticipating Adventure

First and foremost, I have a confession to make: I have caved into Harry Potter, the books. I've been a long-time fan of Harry Potter, the movies, and so, upon arriving back in Montreal and not being able to do much due to some temporary back pain (which, I have an inkling, should be soon recovered -I have had enough, frankly), I proceeded to watch all 5 movies over the course of 3 days. And there's nothing like watching them all in a row to give the story more coherence, as well as make you dying to know what's going to happen next. So, I have begun reading Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince (the "Sixth").

Now, as a self-proclaimed writer, I know this seems shameless -how is it possible that I was ever satisfied with just watching the movies when we all know the book is almost always better than the movie? Well, I read the first one many years ago, and didn't think much of it, from a literary perspective (call me a snob if you will), and never really felt the need to read the rest of the series. Perhaps hearing JK at Commencement inspired this new need to read what happens next. And I must say (though really, who am I to say it right), "the Sixth" appears to be much better written than "the First" -maybe Max was right in saying that her writing matures with the story.

So I am reading. I will also be writing (obvi). And purging my old bedroom of my old life and childish, dated things -time to start afresh. There will be new paint on the walls too -hopefully a nice, soft yellow. The Festival International de Jazz de Montreal will be awesome. Seriously, here is (yet another display of shamelessness) my plug for the biggest and best international jazz fest in the world (taken from the website, with some added commentary of my own):

"The gigantic summer music celebration features 11 days of non-stop entertainment, from noon to midnight, right in the heart of downtown Montreal. Several city blocs are closed to traffic [and there are 10 FREE open-air stages! For reals, you don't wanna miss this], as right of way is given exclusively to pedestrians, creating a festive and secure spot with cafés and bistros, an art gallery, street performers and a musical park for children. It’s the summer celebration par excellence for people of all ages and origins, a cultural breath of fresh air, and a place for incredible musical discoveries with influence such as JAZZ, BLUES, LATIN-JAZZ, BRAZILIAN, CUBAN, AFRICAN, REGGAE, CONTEMPORARY, ELECTRONICA [there's also some hard Rock] ..."

And of course there will be lots of famous people. And of course there will be me! So come up and visit sometime during June 26 - July 6, and check out the website for more info: http://www.montrealjazzfest.com/Fijm2008/accueil_en.aspx

Okay. Also I have been flirting with the idea of making a short visit to Arizona in July to see the Grand Canyon. Yay, mini-adventures. Books and "the type" -adventures of the mind; jazz in the old city -adventure for the spirit and the heart; the Grand Canyon -probably one of the ultimate adventures period. Am I wrong?

And she smiled, satisfied, excited and happy, as one of her favourite Turkish pop (2007) songs by Mustafa Sandal began to play on her sister's iPod, taking her back through a whorl of memories in that beloved far-yet-not-so-far-away land.

Uncertain Beginnings

Aren't they all? But exciting too -of course.

I thought the blogger's life was over for me, that it was a sweet, short, summer 2006 fad. Not so though, obviously, because here I am, barely a week out of College and antsy as ever to be known through "the type" (we are in a cyber-age, thusly, to say "the pen" seems antiquated). So, as a good friend aptly put it, and as Harvard has put it for centuries, upon obtaining my undergraduate degree, I now "Commence" the rest of my life, Cambridge and Boston behind me (well, technically, South of me), medical school and a world of unknowns before me, back home, here in Montreal.

I am a purple pebble -a small thing in this vast Universe, that has learned exactly what they say education is supposed to teach you, that really, even though you feel like you learned so much, you don't know much. But luckily, I love discovery, I am always growing -inshallah, growing more interesting -and changing. A violet transformation. Fitting eh? Also my love for purple dates back to awkward childhood, and really, 'pebble' is just such a cute word.

I always liked the idea of skipping pebbles (I don't actually know how to skip them though). One of my sweetest Turkish memories (apart from rice pudding and baklava) was watching an old man teach his young grandson how to skip pebbles on the turquoise and opal-milky waters of Lake Egirdir right before sunset. Some skip lots, some go quite far, some sink down early, some just don't skip. Like great love, great success, great deception and great failure. Professor Ben Shahar's mantra would ring sonorous and serene during my last semester, "Learn to fail, or fail to learn." JK Rowling said nearly the same beautiful thing at Commencement, adding some saffron spice to her life-advice by emphasizing the importance of imagination for human compassion. Seems to me an appropriate world view to carry along as I stand here gaping in fear, awe and anticipation at Medicine's threshold.

The Old City -not Rome, nor Istanbul, nor Cordoba, but my Old City, my Montreal, my home. This time will be different because cities, like people, are dynamic and changing. And there is much to be discovered here these next 4 years. If you know Montreal though, you know it's an Island, surrounded by rivers and the St. Lawrence -there aren't really any famous piazza fountains. Bubbling sanctuaries are the stuff of Ancient stories, but well, here you go, my e-sanctuary, if you will.

Here's to skipping my first pebble, however uncertainly.