jugo!

It's high time that I address something very important in my life on this blog: juice.

No lie, I probably go through two gallons of Simply juice a week. It started with grapefruit juice, but I've recently moved on to high pulp orange juice.

(On Sunday we got breakfast at Jimmy's Egg and Walker held up their orange juice as a good example of pulp-to-juice ratio. I scoffed - for me, the perfect glass of juice would be about half pulp, half juice).

This is in addition to the many smoothies I make - which will probably become a full blown addiction once I can afford a blender that doesn't become janked so easily.

So naturally, Peru was juice heaven for me. Cheap, fresh squeezed, divine tasting juice everywhere! Street corners, little shops, every restaurant...I had juice with every meal!

The pictures above are in Arequipa where Walker and I hit the juice gallon gold mine one night.

(Now, imagine me pronouncing jugo de naranja with a hard j and laugh).

When we got back home Walker tried to re-create juice-topia Peru by surprising me with a lathe (turned out it was good for apples and potatoes only - hello apple pie) and a juicer/squeezer thing. We practically went through an entire bag of oranges just for one glass - there's got to be a better fresh squeezed secret! Too much hard work.

Anyway, me gusta much jugo!

arequipa knockers.

Cute door knockers everywhere, one of the many reasons I fell in love with Arequipa, Peru.

state of the union.

This is Walker's story, but I'm re-telling it to further my own political agenda.

He was in between classes in Norman and decided to grab some food at the new Whataburger that just opened (ewww, I know. I try to warn him).

An older lady was sitting in a booth behind him and came over to ask what burger he'd ordered, as she didn't think she'd ordered the right thing.

He told her, she re-ordered and came over to inform him that they still hadn't gotten it quite right.

They both agreed that all the employees were new and still getting used to things.

"So, you've worked," she asked.

When Walker replied yes, she said, "You know whose never worked? Obama's never worked."

When Walker told her that he'd actually voted for Obama and believed he'd worked as a professor the lady told Walker that being a professor wasn't a real job, they don't do anything.

When Walker told her he currently works for professors and is studying to be one, she replied...

"Well, at least you're polite."

Walker felt that she was lonely and just wanted someone to talk to. He felt guilty for not talking to her more.

I, on the other hand, instantly despised the little old lady.

...but I really am trying to be a better person and not let this type of thinking get to me.

a post.

Isabel Marant, genius.

Why can't I ever find cute snowboots like these!? (Garance Dore).

Artist John William Godward, I remember my high school sophomore jaw dropping at how realistic his marble looked.

I think entire poems could be written on the specific color of Oklahoma grass in snow-less wintertime.

When you date a PhD student you get to tag along to a lot of interesting (and not so interesting...) lectures, events and Shabbat dinners.

The other night Walker took me to see Barry Rubin speak on the Middle East peace process - his realistic, depressing take on it was actually very thought-provoking.

Guilty pleasure: Award Show Season.

And, of course, the Best/Worst Fashion Police Shows that follow.

Last night Colby's decorators came in with a flurry of furniture, wall decorations and other various knick knacks and now it feels like a whole new, grownup house - I camped out on the repositioned couch with a glass of wine and basked in it.

Now I'm in the mood to go treasure hunting for my own room. I want a giant golden pig statue for an empty corner and a hat stand and a light blue throw pillow and a framed Mark Rothko poster.

Easy A.

It was funny. In the way all Amanda Bynes movies are just slightly off center enough from taking life too seriously. I really like Emma Stone, I hope she sticks around.

Social Network.

I'll give it to him - Jesse Eisenberg can act. I actually found this storyline and the characters enthralling. Again, I'm really drawn to characters that have absolutely no empathy skills.

The King's Speech.

GO SEE IT. Colin Firth, Geoffrey Rush and Helena Bonham Carter are always divine in my book.

Also, those lovable trip movies I would probably never see in real life, but watched thanks to many bus and plane rides: Salt, Nanny McPhee Returns, The Town, The Good, the Bad and the Weird, Trapped, Man On Fire, Tsunami, Dreamer, Hachiko, P.S. I Love You, Pay It Forward, What Happens In Vegas, Fireproof, Life As We Know It

* Nanny McPhee Returns may have made me cry. P.S. I Love You may have made me cry an embarrassing amount for no reason.

* We saw three Dakota Fanning movies in a row! It was weird. Like, God's trying to send you a coded message weird.

Places on my travel list: Morocco, Turkey, Guatemala, Nicaragua, I also feel like old fashioned great American cities like Chicago, San Francisco, Omaha, New York City...

My appetite for chips paired with any combination of queso, guacamole and salsa is truly bottomless.

Per my Dad's insistent recommendation I am reading Justin Cronin's The Passage right now and loving it.

Let's Get Lost, Beck & Bat For Lashes.

it is a conquest.

Sometimes happiness is a blessing, but generally it is a conquest. Each day's magic moment helps.

(Paul Coelho).

viajes en peru de milka: pisco & paracas.

I'll start accompanying my Peru posts with pictures Walker took on his awesome old camera - it's one of the coolest things about my boyfriend, I just love the quality of the film, his eye for things and the sheer surprise of developing them.

The other cool thing about Walker is that his Spanish is excellent - don't ever let him be humble about it. I felt like a mute, dumb, English-only American next to him.

(p.s. Jimmy of "Jimmy Tours" couldn't figure out how to pronounce the name Walker, so he called him Milka. I thought this was hilarious).

pisco & paracas.

When the bus (oh and god, what a bus ride) pulled up to Pisco I had to stifle a gulp.

In 2007 Pisco was hit by an earthquake that killed around 500 people and it really has yet to recover. If I could describe Pisco in one word it would be crumbled. Also, eery.

My sister Meg actually spent a Spring Break with her college rebuilding in Pisco - we searched all over for her creatively crafted bathrooms to no avail. (I'm sure these were the same fantastical bathrooms that actually included toilet paper).

But I take that initial gulp back.

People were out and about in Pisco, nights felt like the state fair with street vendors and gabbles of teenagers amongst the backdrop of a still-ruined city.

And our hostel, Tambo Colorado, was so peaceful. We nicknamed it Hostel Carla after the woman who ran it, because she was so sweet and accommodating.

Hostel Carla also hooked us up with Jimmy of "Jimmy Tours," who disappeared from our lives about as quickly and mysteriously as he appeared, but not before hooking us up with a perfect day trip to the Islas Ballestas and Paracas National Park.

...in my wildest dreams about the trip, this day was exactly what I had been imagining: lonely beaches, crashing waves, even lonelier desert, bright orange crabs, ramshackle tour bus, adorable foreign kids tagging along, scenic beyond comprehension.

- I want to learn Spanish. Pulpo and lobos del mar are perfect words.

- I only regularly drink Coke while traveling. There's just something so perfect about a Coke in a glass bottle while in transit.

- I was starving at a bus stop (things we've learned about Kate while traveling #1: she must eat every three hours or she gets moody and frantic) and there was only one bodega with practically nothing on its shelves. I left in disgust while Walker ended up buying some forlorn packages of crackers for which I chastised him: Why the hell would you buy crackers!? I don't want to eat crackers!! No one wants to eat crackers!! A few minutes later I begrudgingly ate one out of pure desperation, only to find it delicious and to shamefacedly return to buy several more packs. Thus, I dream up ice cream bars and sandwiches and refuse to settle for anything else, while Walker is better at dealing with the realities at hand.

lima.

Most everyone flies into Lima, but the advice we got was to spend as little time in Lima as possible. And while it is a city kind of a city, Walker and I found it to not be as bad as we were anticipating.

Stay: Hostel Kokopelli - fun rooftop bar perfect for post-flight rehabilitation, helpful staff, great location in trendy Miraflores neighborhood.

Eat: Punto Azul. Apparently there's always a long wait, but it was totally worth it. Ceviche, fried calamari and super strong pisco sours (we were not expecting this and got a little giggly).

Avoid: Attempting to get to the beach. Lima is set back from the beach by high cliffs and both walking to it and taking a taxi proved hilarious/frustrating. Not really beachy beaches.

Prepare yourself: For constantly honking cars. And I do mean constant.

Catholic Stuff: San Martin, the first black saint. He loved sweeping floors and hanging out with tree animals. Walker prayed for his sinus infection-prone nose to be healed. He's still holding out hope.

Plazas: One white, one yellow.

Walker's Dream: A large man on the beach in a red speedo with two golden retrievers, happy as a clam.

resolution.

When I travel - or even just seeing Machu Pichu I get excited about life and the world. I want to rush headfirst into it.

I was a different person in Peru. Coming home has hit hard. I haven't even been back a week and am already in full-swing mope mood: anxious and indecisive about everything.

It's about twenty-two days too late, but my New Year's Resolution is to shake the feeling that I'm still waiting around for my life to start.

Which has a lot to do with decisiveness and commitment and turning twenty-four.

(also make more of Meg's homemade salad dressing, listen to old Kings of Leon circa Aha Shake Heartbreak and Youth & Young Manhood, learn how to do more with my hair, consistently blog, finally read The New Yorker my aunt has always gotten me a subscription to, etc.)

(p.s. last years).

preface.

this book is a record of a pleasure trip. if it were a record of a solemn scientific expedition, it would have about it that gravity, that profundity, and that impressive incomprehensibility which are so proper to works of that kind, and withal so attractive. yet notwithstanding it is only a record of a picnic.

(Mark Twain, The Innocents Abroad).

my aim in upcoming posts describing Peru - it is only a record of a picnic.