Jami´s latest on what´s cool in MSP:
I had the benefit of experiencing Casharoeke last night. You heard it right. Cash-aroeke. It's kareoke but with a live Johnny Cash band, and it's my new favorite thing. Every monday night Lee's Liquor Bar hosts this fabulous event. There were some truly hard core Johnny Cash wannabees, dressed all in black and everything, but it's okay if you're not inspiring to Johnny or June Carter as well. Do not be deceived from the outer appearance of Lee's. From the outside it looks as though the local crack addicts and hookers own the place, but inside it's a whole different story. It's the cleanest dive bar I've ever seen. The best part is it's Elvis Presley shrine. Sure there were still a couple local crack heads in the corner, but they were so far gone they were harmless. So if you like Cash, Johnny that is, head down to Lee's Liquor on monday night. It's located on the corner of 12th and Glenwood, downtown Minneapolis. I'll be there and if you give me enough to drink I might get on stage and make an ass of myself. It's a win win situation, there's no reason not to go.
Tuesday, January 31, 2006
Monday, January 30, 2006
So, I´m standing on the beach, holding an iguana...
by Stephanie, who seems to have made it to Mexico
...and the man who gave it to me asks if I want to eat the iguana. The iguana is wearing a necklace.
And we´ll interupt my Sunday afternoon there to let you know that I DID get collected at the airport in Zihautanejo. The stranger that came looking for me wasn´t wearing any shoes and laughed hysterically when I put my seatbelt on. I´m glad I left it on, as I´ve witnessed 2 fatal accidents in the last 3 days.
My home is in Ixtapa: I have my own 3-bedroom apartment, with a bathroom that makes most phone booths look spacious. The ruling force in my neighborhood seems to be a dubiously organized feral cat herd. They do some dealings with a pair of floppy-eared bassett hounds, but its clear that the dirty cats are running the show. Mail and trash are left in respective piles on the sidewalk for collection. I don´t know how the cats sort the mail, so its for the best that i don´t even know my address to give it to you.
I´m working for a restaurant called Casa Morelos and at a real estate agency. I work about 7 hours a day, which for here is considered near slave hours. I am doing¨"PR" for the restaurant, and I consider it quite the apprenticeship as my boss claims to have INVENTED "word of mouth" advertising. For the real estate people, my main job is to repeat the words: "it´s not a time share!"
I know a lot more Spanish than I did two weeks ago, but I would compare my current attempts at the language to a game of Taboo: due to my very limited vocabulary, I am constantly trying to describe things using totally unrelated words. Sometimes I cheat and throw in charades. The results are always entertaining, but usually nowhere near what I was trying to express.
I even have a mobile phone. Granted, I had to borrow most of its parts from one "Enrique Bravo" and it only holds a charge for the better part of one afternoon. I´m just waiting for the calls and texts to roll in: mexico country code: +52, my numero: 755 111 7746.
Visitors are welcome, but get your bookings in, as space is filling up. And, you may want to know that my mom is predicting a border war that will halt all travel between the two countries and leave all Americans trapped here. Her wild fortune telling isn´t always correct, but this would be a VERY HOT place to have to spend eternity.
And no, of course I didn´t eat the iguana! I don´t know where YOU went to elementary school, but at Hopkins, right between "don´t get in a car with a stranger" and "don´t eat unwrapped, poisoned candy", they told us "don´t ingest animals wearing jewelry." Public education serves me yet again.
...and the man who gave it to me asks if I want to eat the iguana. The iguana is wearing a necklace.
And we´ll interupt my Sunday afternoon there to let you know that I DID get collected at the airport in Zihautanejo. The stranger that came looking for me wasn´t wearing any shoes and laughed hysterically when I put my seatbelt on. I´m glad I left it on, as I´ve witnessed 2 fatal accidents in the last 3 days.
My home is in Ixtapa: I have my own 3-bedroom apartment, with a bathroom that makes most phone booths look spacious. The ruling force in my neighborhood seems to be a dubiously organized feral cat herd. They do some dealings with a pair of floppy-eared bassett hounds, but its clear that the dirty cats are running the show. Mail and trash are left in respective piles on the sidewalk for collection. I don´t know how the cats sort the mail, so its for the best that i don´t even know my address to give it to you.
I´m working for a restaurant called Casa Morelos and at a real estate agency. I work about 7 hours a day, which for here is considered near slave hours. I am doing¨"PR" for the restaurant, and I consider it quite the apprenticeship as my boss claims to have INVENTED "word of mouth" advertising. For the real estate people, my main job is to repeat the words: "it´s not a time share!"
I know a lot more Spanish than I did two weeks ago, but I would compare my current attempts at the language to a game of Taboo: due to my very limited vocabulary, I am constantly trying to describe things using totally unrelated words. Sometimes I cheat and throw in charades. The results are always entertaining, but usually nowhere near what I was trying to express.
I even have a mobile phone. Granted, I had to borrow most of its parts from one "Enrique Bravo" and it only holds a charge for the better part of one afternoon. I´m just waiting for the calls and texts to roll in: mexico country code: +52, my numero: 755 111 7746.
Visitors are welcome, but get your bookings in, as space is filling up. And, you may want to know that my mom is predicting a border war that will halt all travel between the two countries and leave all Americans trapped here. Her wild fortune telling isn´t always correct, but this would be a VERY HOT place to have to spend eternity.
And no, of course I didn´t eat the iguana! I don´t know where YOU went to elementary school, but at Hopkins, right between "don´t get in a car with a stranger" and "don´t eat unwrapped, poisoned candy", they told us "don´t ingest animals wearing jewelry." Public education serves me yet again.
Monday, January 23, 2006
In Latin American News...
by Anna Skorczeski
My landlord is this dude who is about our age, and his parents are from Mexico. This is a synopsis of a story he told me a week or 2 ago...
His sister and her long-time boyfriend had just broken up. The boyfriend was devastated and crying on the shoulders of the ex's (the sister's) family. The sister's family thought they were a great couple and were also sad to see them split up, so her grandmother offered to hire a mariachi band on the dumped boyfriend's behalf, so he could win back the sister's heart.
Yes, a mariachi band to win back her heart.
My landlord is this dude who is about our age, and his parents are from Mexico. This is a synopsis of a story he told me a week or 2 ago...
His sister and her long-time boyfriend had just broken up. The boyfriend was devastated and crying on the shoulders of the ex's (the sister's) family. The sister's family thought they were a great couple and were also sad to see them split up, so her grandmother offered to hire a mariachi band on the dumped boyfriend's behalf, so he could win back the sister's heart.
Yes, a mariachi band to win back her heart.
Friday, January 13, 2006
What's my story?
I'm charmed you should ask, really.
It's basically this: I want to learn Spanish. It has been pointed out to me (none too subtly) that there might be easier ways than going to Mexico for an extended period of time. I disagree. I will be leaving Sunday for Ixtapa/Zihautanejo (yes, that's the town Andy Dufresne goes to at the end of Shawshank). The plan for my immersion program is as follows:
Duration:This trip was supposed to begin in October, but unforeseen delays popped up (most of them involving small planes). I don't think I can lengthen my stay accordingly, so I will have to make my language immersion program work by Spring.
Job: I'll be doing "PR" for a restaurateur in Ixtapa. My only qualifications are that I speak English and German, and the German's not required. A good portion of my negotiated pay is in food.
Home: I supposedly have an apartment. Some friend of a stranger is going to get me at the airport and take me there. Last time I rented a place site-unseen, it included a 40-year-old German flatmate with a comb-over whose favorite outfit was boxers and knee-high socks. Last time I looked at a place before moving in, there was a race riot on the doorstep. So, I don't have the best track record for renting abroad... I'll keep my fingers crossed.
Language: I have been studying, and I know most of my numbers and colors in Spanish. If the majority of conversations begin with "What is your favorite episode of Sesame Street?", I'll be fine.
If you're in Minneapolis, I believe Liquor Lyles has 2-4-1s yet again this evening. The smokin' and jokin' will begin when you get there... except the smokin', 'cause you can't do that in Minneapolis.
Now you know all my planning secrets. As you can see, they're not very impressive, they may get me killed, and they don't currently include a surfboard. Hopefully, the triumphant email I send in a few weeks will make you feel bad for doubting me.
Love,
Steph
It's basically this: I want to learn Spanish. It has been pointed out to me (none too subtly) that there might be easier ways than going to Mexico for an extended period of time. I disagree. I will be leaving Sunday for Ixtapa/Zihautanejo (yes, that's the town Andy Dufresne goes to at the end of Shawshank). The plan for my immersion program is as follows:
Duration:This trip was supposed to begin in October, but unforeseen delays popped up (most of them involving small planes). I don't think I can lengthen my stay accordingly, so I will have to make my language immersion program work by Spring.
Job: I'll be doing "PR" for a restaurateur in Ixtapa. My only qualifications are that I speak English and German, and the German's not required. A good portion of my negotiated pay is in food.
Home: I supposedly have an apartment. Some friend of a stranger is going to get me at the airport and take me there. Last time I rented a place site-unseen, it included a 40-year-old German flatmate with a comb-over whose favorite outfit was boxers and knee-high socks. Last time I looked at a place before moving in, there was a race riot on the doorstep. So, I don't have the best track record for renting abroad... I'll keep my fingers crossed.
Language: I have been studying, and I know most of my numbers and colors in Spanish. If the majority of conversations begin with "What is your favorite episode of Sesame Street?", I'll be fine.
If you're in Minneapolis, I believe Liquor Lyles has 2-4-1s yet again this evening. The smokin' and jokin' will begin when you get there... except the smokin', 'cause you can't do that in Minneapolis.
Now you know all my planning secrets. As you can see, they're not very impressive, they may get me killed, and they don't currently include a surfboard. Hopefully, the triumphant email I send in a few weeks will make you feel bad for doubting me.
Love,
Steph
Tuesday, January 03, 2006
Northwest Airlines: Going Bankrupt because they SUCK, not because of Terrorism
by Stephanie Anderson
I was quite excited to see Uncle Ole, so his plane being continually delayed didn't really bother me. (He probably had a different perspective as he had started in Anchorage at 8am.) He was supposed to leave Minneapolis at 7pm Monday evening. We had time for one beer, but then the screen changed to "Departure 8:45"... time for another. We squeezed in a couple more Coronas before his flight finally boarded at 9:30pm CST.
In the only prompt move they made all day, Northwest had the flight from MSP to Fort Myers, FL in the air by 9:40. When I talked to Ole on Tuesday, I was more than surprised to find that he hadn't landed in Ft. Myers(RSW) until 7am.
The shortest distance between two points is a straight line (well, except for the trajectory of the earth, winds, etc.), so the plane took about 3 hours to get to its destination in Florida. Unfortunately, RSW was fogged in, and after missing two instrument approaches and circling for 45 minutes, the flight re-routed to Miami to refuel.
Of course, NWA didn't ring up their people and tell them to receive this flight in Miami, so when they arrived, no Northwest employees were available to man a gate or operate a jetway. They parked the plane out on the tarmack and told the passengers it was because Miami Inaternational Airport was CLOSED. Right.
No one was allowed off the plane... for security reasons. After a couple hours, the passengers travelling with small dogs complained that their dogs HAD TO GO. Fine, the flight crew would allow the dogs off the plane, but not the owners. Two small dogs were escorted out for a break by a flight attendent. While the door was open, one female passenger panicked and made a dash for it. The crew caught her and were able to calm her down, get the dogs back on the plane and close the door without any escapes.
Naturally, the passengers were hungry, so the good people of Northwest said they would "open up the galley and they could have anything they wanted." But, snackboxs are still $5 and peanuts/trailmix $3. This announcement was greeted by cabin-wide booing.
After about 3 hours on the ground, a man in First Class stood up and demanded to be let off the plane and given a rental car. He could have been in Fort Myers by now. Even the elite were not given special consideration, and this man was eventually coerced back into his seat.
Ole was glad for those few beers at ol' MSP, enabling to find a bit of humor in this whole debacle.
After 4 hours of captivity, the plane was refueled and given a clearance to depart. One of the flight attendents looked at her watch and said, "I'm timed out. Let me off the plane." The protests of the Chief Flight Attendent meant nothing to this woman who had worked through a delay in Detroit, again in Minneapolis, and now in cross-coastal Florida. With the way Northwest is treating its employees, why should she work overtime? She got on one phone with the union and one phone with the Northwest representative and was excused to go.
Tragically, the flight was now one crew member short of legally making the half-hour flight to Fort Myers. They called a woman in Miami, waited for her to drive to the airport, go through security and find the plane out on the tarmack. After 5 hours on the ground and a sunrise, the flight left for RSW, arriving around 7am.
Northwest felt really bad that it took 10 hours to get their customers from Minneapolis to Fort Myers, and they naturally wanted to compensate the passengers for their inconvenience. So, as everyone deplaned, they were handed a coupon for 25% off of a FULL PRICE Northwest ticket.
I was quite excited to see Uncle Ole, so his plane being continually delayed didn't really bother me. (He probably had a different perspective as he had started in Anchorage at 8am.) He was supposed to leave Minneapolis at 7pm Monday evening. We had time for one beer, but then the screen changed to "Departure 8:45"... time for another. We squeezed in a couple more Coronas before his flight finally boarded at 9:30pm CST.
In the only prompt move they made all day, Northwest had the flight from MSP to Fort Myers, FL in the air by 9:40. When I talked to Ole on Tuesday, I was more than surprised to find that he hadn't landed in Ft. Myers(RSW) until 7am.
The shortest distance between two points is a straight line (well, except for the trajectory of the earth, winds, etc.), so the plane took about 3 hours to get to its destination in Florida. Unfortunately, RSW was fogged in, and after missing two instrument approaches and circling for 45 minutes, the flight re-routed to Miami to refuel.
Of course, NWA didn't ring up their people and tell them to receive this flight in Miami, so when they arrived, no Northwest employees were available to man a gate or operate a jetway. They parked the plane out on the tarmack and told the passengers it was because Miami Inaternational Airport was CLOSED. Right.
No one was allowed off the plane... for security reasons. After a couple hours, the passengers travelling with small dogs complained that their dogs HAD TO GO. Fine, the flight crew would allow the dogs off the plane, but not the owners. Two small dogs were escorted out for a break by a flight attendent. While the door was open, one female passenger panicked and made a dash for it. The crew caught her and were able to calm her down, get the dogs back on the plane and close the door without any escapes.
Naturally, the passengers were hungry, so the good people of Northwest said they would "open up the galley and they could have anything they wanted." But, snackboxs are still $5 and peanuts/trailmix $3. This announcement was greeted by cabin-wide booing.
After about 3 hours on the ground, a man in First Class stood up and demanded to be let off the plane and given a rental car. He could have been in Fort Myers by now. Even the elite were not given special consideration, and this man was eventually coerced back into his seat.
Ole was glad for those few beers at ol' MSP, enabling to find a bit of humor in this whole debacle.
After 4 hours of captivity, the plane was refueled and given a clearance to depart. One of the flight attendents looked at her watch and said, "I'm timed out. Let me off the plane." The protests of the Chief Flight Attendent meant nothing to this woman who had worked through a delay in Detroit, again in Minneapolis, and now in cross-coastal Florida. With the way Northwest is treating its employees, why should she work overtime? She got on one phone with the union and one phone with the Northwest representative and was excused to go.
Tragically, the flight was now one crew member short of legally making the half-hour flight to Fort Myers. They called a woman in Miami, waited for her to drive to the airport, go through security and find the plane out on the tarmack. After 5 hours on the ground and a sunrise, the flight left for RSW, arriving around 7am.
Northwest felt really bad that it took 10 hours to get their customers from Minneapolis to Fort Myers, and they naturally wanted to compensate the passengers for their inconvenience. So, as everyone deplaned, they were handed a coupon for 25% off of a FULL PRICE Northwest ticket.
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