As the river gets a little higher...
Well, at least I live on the 3rd floor. That's right kids, England is flooding again. Nothing like crossing a bridge on your way home and noticing that the water looks a smidge too high for its own good. Oh, is the Isis turning into a roaring current of death? Again? Not that this bridge connects me to the entire town and/or university. That's ok, I can be stranded on the island that will be Cowley. We have a grocery store. More importantly, we have Chinese take-out up here. All on an elevation a notch higher than the rest of Oxford. Which means as the original copies of Shakespeare and Milton float by, I'll wave to them happily while munching thoughtfully on my spring rolls. Hey, that's what happens when you build one of the most important libraries in the world in a flood plain. That'll learn 'em. And that'll also teach them not to charge 2.50 per sandbag. Yup. That's right. Want to protect your house and home with a wall of impenetrable sand? Well, it'll cost you. And with exchange rates being what they are....can I re-emphasize my thankfulness at living on the 3rd floor? Well, partial thankfulness. As the 3rd floor is the top floor, I don't so much worry about water coming up from below but rather down from above. I woke up this morning to a steady dripping noise and the realization that my window ledge is now decorated with a fabulous sprinkling of white molding...which at one point was affixed to my ceiling. It's grand. Not to worry though, I have curtains that are thick enough to shield me from x-rays. Seriously, these things are hard core. I remember moving in and thinking "Well, those curtains are certainly unnecessarily dense. I wonder why." Now I know. It's to protect the laptop and all other desk accessories when water starts seeping in from unexpected places. Because of course the desk had to go next to the window. It's my only source of light. And now, my only source of moisture and molding. This seems to be one of those catch 22 situations.
In other Oxonian-related news, if said city is not submerged by next week, I will have found a reason to stay permanently. I debated on whether to post this because I wasn't sure this news was worthy enough to sponsor an entire journal entry. But thankfully flooding and imminent water-related doom saved me from that literary pickle. So now I can post this guilt-free, knowing I covered the important stuff first. Right, anyways.
Reason to stay permanently: I have found a place that serves Latin American food. Real Latin American food. Ok, granted, it's one dish. Ok, granted, they only serve it on the weekends. And granted, it costs about (factor in exchange rate here) 9 dollars. But still. I will fork over happily for a taste of actual black beans, rice, and chorizo. My former colleague told me about this place and I didn't want to believe her. And honestly, this restaurant is the most unlikely spot to host authentic Latin American cuisine. I mean, for Pete's sake, it's a French baguette shop. Honestly. They serve paninis, croissants, and tea. But on a small sign down by the bottom of the display window, there it is: Fiojada (served Sat/Sun). And bless these people. Bless them from the bottom of my poor Mexican food-deprived heart. I was so excited to get this, I didn't mind that I had to sit outside in January wind and rain to eat it. If I wasn't in full public view, I would have done a little happy food dance. You know, the dance you do when the sheer joy of the food you are eating cannot be contained. Because the rest of your body is so jealous that only your mouth and stomach get to enjoy it that it moves spontaneously of its own free will. That dance.
Man, if this place turns into a new Venice by the weekend, I don't care. I'll hijack a gondola to get down to that place. Oh yes. It's that good.
In other Oxonian-related news, if said city is not submerged by next week, I will have found a reason to stay permanently. I debated on whether to post this because I wasn't sure this news was worthy enough to sponsor an entire journal entry. But thankfully flooding and imminent water-related doom saved me from that literary pickle. So now I can post this guilt-free, knowing I covered the important stuff first. Right, anyways.
Reason to stay permanently: I have found a place that serves Latin American food. Real Latin American food. Ok, granted, it's one dish. Ok, granted, they only serve it on the weekends. And granted, it costs about (factor in exchange rate here) 9 dollars. But still. I will fork over happily for a taste of actual black beans, rice, and chorizo. My former colleague told me about this place and I didn't want to believe her. And honestly, this restaurant is the most unlikely spot to host authentic Latin American cuisine. I mean, for Pete's sake, it's a French baguette shop. Honestly. They serve paninis, croissants, and tea. But on a small sign down by the bottom of the display window, there it is: Fiojada (served Sat/Sun). And bless these people. Bless them from the bottom of my poor Mexican food-deprived heart. I was so excited to get this, I didn't mind that I had to sit outside in January wind and rain to eat it. If I wasn't in full public view, I would have done a little happy food dance. You know, the dance you do when the sheer joy of the food you are eating cannot be contained. Because the rest of your body is so jealous that only your mouth and stomach get to enjoy it that it moves spontaneously of its own free will. That dance.
Man, if this place turns into a new Venice by the weekend, I don't care. I'll hijack a gondola to get down to that place. Oh yes. It's that good.