Laidback day. Pain killers, breakfast, café. (Today the café lady asked me why I was limping and if I was okay. It’s nice to feel like a regular already.) Journal entries, photos, lunch, home, nap. Painkillers. Italian class. (I couldn't sit around all day, and Italian is closer than any other class and probably the most necessary one.) Lisa, who I have a few classes with, told me she volunteered to be my partner in the food writing class I missed. We have to research friggitore, frying restaurants. As far as Italian goes, today we listened to The Eagles and learned aggetivi and verbi. Good times.
When I left the building that night, I found cold, frustrated Stonybrookers gathered in the courtyard. Apparently their advisor was late to meet them for an aperitivo (happy hour, including tapa-style snacks at the bar’s discretion). Pretty much everyone I’ve mentioned so far was there excluding Liz, Prima, and Anton. They convinced us non-Stonybrookers to tag along. We went to Moyo, a spiffy bar less than five minutes away – otherwise I wouldn’t have agreed. We’d stopped in there briefly a few times, but most of us had never spent a significant amount of time there. T’was fun. Prosecco. Caprese salad topped with a (pesto?) cream. When everyone else decided to go to the American bar or out of my five-minute radius, I just went home. I grabbed a gyro at the little place next door that Liz loves/lives at. It was tasty, but I’ve been forever spoiled of Lebanese/Mediterranean food by the restaurants both good and cheap in uptown New Orleans.
My mom called, so we caught up a little. And after that I tried calling Adrian for the ten millionth time, and he actually picked up. So we talked for a good while - That will be a nice phone bill, I'm sure. But it was great to hear all about his first "real" Mardi Gras.
When I left the building that night, I found cold, frustrated Stonybrookers gathered in the courtyard. Apparently their advisor was late to meet them for an aperitivo (happy hour, including tapa-style snacks at the bar’s discretion). Pretty much everyone I’ve mentioned so far was there excluding Liz, Prima, and Anton. They convinced us non-Stonybrookers to tag along. We went to Moyo, a spiffy bar less than five minutes away – otherwise I wouldn’t have agreed. We’d stopped in there briefly a few times, but most of us had never spent a significant amount of time there. T’was fun. Prosecco. Caprese salad topped with a (pesto?) cream. When everyone else decided to go to the American bar or out of my five-minute radius, I just went home. I grabbed a gyro at the little place next door that Liz loves/lives at. It was tasty, but I’ve been forever spoiled of Lebanese/Mediterranean food by the restaurants both good and cheap in uptown New Orleans.
My mom called, so we caught up a little. And after that I tried calling Adrian for the ten millionth time, and he actually picked up. So we talked for a good while - That will be a nice phone bill, I'm sure. But it was great to hear all about his first "real" Mardi Gras.
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