I just got back from a really lovely weekend in the German town of Heidelberg, where I was visiting my good friend Maria Pia. It was one of those times where you just pick up the conversation where you had left off, as if there had been no intervening period. I got to see her new apartment and we chatted about all sorts of things, some mundane, some deep-and-meaningful. Here are some of the highlights.
I gave her the Rasta Beret I had made for her, and she loved it! I must say, I also found it very becoming. She had bought the yarn for me the last time I visited her in Heidelberg and asked me to knit it when I had time, but said that she had since totally forgotten about it. Her reaction would have warmed any knitter’s heart! After I had given her the hat, we went out for dinner to the local Schnitzelhaus, where they had 100 different schnitzels you could order. I went for the Hungarian one, with a kind of goulash sauce with capsicum and bacon, while MP went for chanterelle mushrooms and a cream sauce. Although, we were both tempted to order either the one cooked in coconut milk, or covered in chocolate. Maybe next time.
On Saturday morning we just woke up and chatted for a while, then went shopping. Disappointed that we couldn’t enjoy a proper aperitif before dinner, we went to a liquor store in search of something appropriate, and each left with a small flaçon of strawberry-rhubarb liqueur. Yum! Then I went in search of “teach yourself” language books, but ended up buying a copy of The Little Prince in Georgian for a friend in Holland.
For those of you uninitiated in the appearance of the Georgian language, get a load of this:
I was quite from my a-propos, as they say in Dutch. There’s an interesting Wikipedia article on the Georgian alphabet here. I also experienced a small frisson in the bookstore’s foreign language section, when I realised I understood the title of one of the books in Polish – “Dziewięc”, which means Nine. Guess all those hours of Polish study during the sermons at Scot’s kind of paid off. Sadly, the yarn store down the road had nothing I liked, so I will have to wait before knitting my fabulous keyboard scarf.
During the shopping we also picked up a copy of The Devil Wears Prada, and then proceeded to go home and watch it, after eating crepes and while consuming large amounts of camembert and Cuarenta y tres, a vanilla-herby flavoured Spanish liqueur.
The next morning, MP gave me a present, and you’ll never guess what it was… an armadillo that turns into a ball! (See this post.) I think I’m going to call him Albert. Here he is, doing his stuff:
I just love him to bits! I think I’ll put him on my bookshelf, next to Derek the Wombat.
Then we went into town with the laptop to hook up to the Internet in a local cafe and watch the video of my mum receiving her birthday blanket, my Ravelry entry on the Rasta Beret, and watch a couple of episodes of Summer Heights High on You Tube, as I had been talking like Ja’mie all weekend and MP really wanted to see it for real. One cocktail, a few lattes, some miso soup and sushi later, it was time to pack up and head home. I had a really great and relaxing time!
Random Quote of the Day:
“Mieux tout seul que mal accompagné.” (Better to be all alone than in bad company.)