Lucky Me

Hello, Hello!

Some of you may (even fondly, perhaps) remember a chapter of my life when I oh-so confidently referred to myself as “The Luckiest Girl in the World” (I, personally, liked that chapter). You may also recall the nice, hefty whack to the face that knocked that “rad babe” right off of that pedestal she so foolishly danced upon.  Happily, I can now honestly report that (with the exception of a few minor shortfalls) my life has returned to its “ordinary” tendency of going extraordinarily well.

I have superstitious inklings that it has something to do with the Pilot Whale’s tooth I found in Ngawi at my “Until We Meet Again, New Zealand” mini-celebratory weekend of “Kiwiana”. I spent my time in that lobster-filled village of tractors decapitating and devouring Paua (Abalone) avec beurre, good wine and great girls.  There, a big chunk of tooth was just sunbathing in the sand we were strolling on before “tea”, and (as if life gets much better than this paragraph) that evening over a bowl of marshmallows I learned that this “find” was quite special- whale’s teeth are powerful talismans of ancient Polynesian culture! I believe that I am living verification of this; having “lost” so many teeth it simply MUST be good luck to have finally “found” one! Unfortunately my little amulet came a week to late to have “properly assessed” that theory at the sunny, drink-filled Christchurch Cup races!

Or, maybe sometime between my daily Pina Coladas, Thanksgiving-a-la-beach and jumping out of a plane from 14,000 feet above Ben’s new Hawaiian home, I picked up a little bit of his notoriously good “JuJu”. On second thought, while I was there I suffered a less-than-graceful blood-drenched freak boogie boarding accident that resulted in a broken nose. So, maybe I just needed another good smack across the face to turn things around.  

Then again, there’s always magic to soak up in a cup of Ghirardelli’s on the Chicago Christmas window display “audit” and shopping extravaganza my mom and I celebrate annually and, mornings that begin with a whiff of the blue-berry and blue-grassy wood-burnt smokey smell of Saturday that wafts up the stairs of my home-sweet-Detroit are eternally divine. There was even something undeniably “special” about the bubbly-inspired (yet whole-heated) rendition of “Party in the USA” with which my family of friends rang in 2011. Heck, living on the other side of the planet makes sleeping (terribly) in the same rugged-a-bump ski bunks with my sister seem “Heavenly”!

In the aftermath of the earthquakes, I certainly feel fortunate to have my health and happy-little-life here in New Zealand (and that of my friends and family here) and I am milking that one for all it’s worth! My good friend Caeley (the Canadian I met on the plane) and I ran and river-crossed (okay, avec a few “wee” berry-picking sojourns) the Mototapu Off-Road Marathon last month and I am officially registered for Ironaman New Zealand in March! I’ve shivered a swim in the glacial waters of Lake Tekapo (of which my “funny” American accent cannot accurately pronounce despite it’s status as my favourite lake in New Zealand!) snorkeled bare off the wetsuit-worthy beaches of Coromandel Peninsula and even learned to water ski in an irrigation pond! These sorts of mini-adventures have me convinced that words like “plenteous” and “copiousness” were created by the poor, poor people who were somehow damned with the daunting task of describing New Zealand. I certainly never under-appreciate a drinkably-clean stream on a good “tramp”, home-grown roast or my flatmates’ weekly farmers market habit that keeps our cozy retro home full of Fijoas, pumpkin cakes and borsch.

But, really, let’s face it, I live in New Zealand to study chocolate and that certainly doesn’t suck. So, I think I’ll stick around here for a while and add one more “tick” to the tally of Dr. Clark’s that my fam seems to be accumulating. It’s a big job but I found this book next to the office copier called, “How to write your doctoral dissertation in 15 minutes a day”, and doing as instructed (okay, a little bit more) is workin’ pretty good! In fact, my research has been accepted to conferences from Frankfurt to Stanford and even found five dollars when I presented at the Australian Agricultural and Resource Economics Symposium in February!

            So, yes, it may be a bit foolish and exclusive to go around calling oneself “The luckiest girl in the world” and, don’t you worry, God got that one through to me l-o-u-d & c-l-e-a-r. But (in accordance to Blerta’s Theory of Life Balance) I certainly do appreciate just how good these good times are and intend to celebrate just how lucky I actually am.

Hope all is well at home wherever home may be.

Love,

Alexandra

Time Flies When You're Having Fun

It's been a while since I've written, but as the saying goes, time flies when you're having fun. 

Now, I know I promised an adventure but I hesitate to say that I have had one. You see, once upon a time when we were particularly short on water during a kayaking trip in the Gulf, my good friend Mr. Cli"ph" Walls determined an undeniable truth of life, "It's not an adventure unless it gets f***ed up, then it's just a trip." With how swimmingly these past few months in New Zealand have gone, I'm pretty sure that all of this fun has actually amounted to a trip. 

For example, being the Pinot Noir-loving red meat-eating triathlete that I am, a wine tasting a la "push-bike" beach trip to Martinborough and Castle Point was pretty much the perfect use of a few days of my latest study break (after all, I am studying food...). Two of my "favourite" Canadians, Guan and Caeley picked me up (this time less creepily than that prior when I was literally abducted for a day of drinking at the Tui Factory) and we took the windy and windy road past the Schoc Chocolate Factory to the Martinborough Wine Region. Baskets and all, we rode our bikes from vineyard to vineyard inevitably employing increasingly interesting descriptors of our tasting experience as we went along: Winery #1= "mmmm," Winery #2= "it has a smoky nose to it, doesn't it Guan?" Winery #3= "This tastes like licking a barrel". Never-the-less we each befriended a bottle and enjoyed them consecutively over a Scotch Fillet (pronounce the T, not kidding), some veggies and ashy goat cheese at our little cabin at the holiday park. Guan scored some serious points when he pulled up the next morning with coffees for Caeley and I. Back to the car, we took even windier and windier roads out to a sandy seaweed covered beach where we climbed up cliffs to overlook the reef. Fortunately, despite the gusts, no one blew off of the bluff but unfortunately watching for "rogue waves" while being pelted by sand in ways that make you bleed creates less-than-ideal swimming conditions. The drive home had lollies, chips, rainbows and three smiling North Americans.

To be fair, I probably still had a big, fat, stupid smile on my face from my mid-semester break trip to the South Island. After a ferry ride across the Cook Strait and a story book train ride along the water through the   Marlborough wine region, I, by what perhaps most-closely can be described as "divine intervention," landed on the doorstep of the Macfarlane Family's picture-perfect dairy farm in Ashburton (Canterbury). I was completely spoiled. I did all of the things that most dairy farmers don't get to do like sleeping in and enjoying a nice breakfast and was still chasing cows out of paddocks, tubing calves, milking and all around enjoying being completely covered in poo. Intermittently Andy, Tricia, Thomas, Julia, James and Lauren showed me the more refined side of what they so lovingly, or perhaps more ironically, referred to as AshVegas. We shopped the little boutiques in town and in tiny Geraldine for chocolates, clothes and cooking wares, ate every strange kind of lolly the bulk bins held, went for walks and drives and mini-hikes by braided rivers. We ate quiche in cafes, drove on the "other side" of the road, had an absolutely epic day of baking, wine and cheese at night near the fireplace before dinner and even fit in a little trip to the "junque" shop. I laughed to tears over home-made dinners with family stories and "wee" bits of Kiwiana. I learned recipes for slices (think brownies not pizza), scones (say it like "john" not "own") and Banoffee Pie (Dear Lord Almighty) and even, in an awkward moment of confusion, learned my very favorite kiwi word: "Knackered" (it means 'tired' but when said correctly, sounds more like 'naked'). I left the Christchurch airport less than 12 hours before the earthquake- everyone was alright. 

The Macfarlane's oldest son, Tom has taken it upon himself to make sure I see a thing or two. As part of my "South Island Adventure" I stayed with him and his coffee-drinking character of a tractor-driving flatmate, Brak, at Raincliff Station; the bull beef, sheep and deer farm where they work. There certainly is something remote about being in the middle of nowhere on an island that is in the middle of nowhere. I felt virtually useless (especially compared to the dogs) but Thomas had a bit of a "throw-the-city-girl-in-there-she'll-have-to-get-it-eventually" approach that made my truck driving, mustering, calf rearing and even gate-opening good fun at the very least. Every night we ate food that Tom had killed and even got out for a bit of off-roading into Tahr (just say "Ta" or, really, just say "goat") country at Lake Tekapo which was divinely surreal. Maybe it was being in a place deserving of the name Godly Valley (with Paradise Ducks, may I add), or maybe one too many Speights on an old couch the wool shed or maybe it was just hangin' 'round someone for the first time since my accident who didn't need an explanation of what that experience is like, but that was refreshing. Still, all preconceived notions I once had about the ruggedly handsome, rough and tumble men-of-all men Kiwi male were thrown out of the window of a big (for NZ) pickup (say "ute") this weekend somewhere along highway 2 after a whole-hearted yet sub-par rendition of Taylor Swift's "Romeo and Juliet" by Tom and his friends Nigel and James.

My least favorite translation from US to NZ is the one that turned my "Finals Week" into an "Exam Month". One down and two to go, I am ready to finish my first semester of graduate school. That's right, this "fun size" Clark is growing up... I might not be gettin' married and makin' babies but I do listen to my my MSU football games drinking instant coffee instead of cheap vodka (GO GREEN! 8-0, baby!) and for some of us that is a big change. At the same time, it's the things that haven't changed that have so quickly made this country my new home. I will always be a loyal patron of any cinema's cheap-o movie night, adore spending hours in a kitchen with good friends and new recipes, going out with girlfriends for Thai food to laugh until noodles come out my nose and going to sleep wrapped up in a quilt my mama made me. I adore New Zealand and am passionate about the research I am doing and though  ultimately, I am not sure I can sit still long enough to have a future in academia I sure as hell am happy I am coming back here in the fall. After all, you just haven't lived until you've stuck money to a dancing Samoan virgin....and this year I missed my chance.

Hope all is well at home wherever home may be.  

Alexandra 

P.S. Yes, Daddy, I know that Kermit the frog says "Time's fun when you're having flies."

Kia Ora from New Zealand

Kia Ora from New Zealand- land of lollycakes, gumboots and mullets- where spaghetti is a breakfast food and shoes are optional! 

My time at Michigan State University and ended with a BANG- after a not-very-fun and very self-conscious year of toothless-ness following the taxi accident that I was in last May, I, smile (finally) intact, was the student commencement speaker (speech attached). The absolute hands-down biggest complement that I could ever receive in regards to my college experience was the unprecedented standing ovation I received- starting from my classmates and friends in The School of Hospitality Business- who (I didn’t know at the time) had nominated me “Outstanding Senior” just prior. It was a high that I could ride all the way to New Zealand... 

…with a little help from 3 planes, a van, a train a Ford and a Saturn… 

None the less I made it. 

By fluke and a bit of hard work I have found myself in an Agricommerce post-grad program at Massey University’s Turitea campus in Palmerston North on New Zealand’s north island. Campus resembles some sort of strikingly unkosher combo between MSU’s farm scene and UofM’s downtown. There is a great trail for running just 2 minutes from my dorm as well as botanical gardens, a big river and lots of cows and sheep. 

I share a lovely little office (with a window, might I add!) at 428 Social Sciences Tower with an outstanding hostess and all-together classically wonderful post-grad student from the South Island, Jess. Though our style for the time being might best be described as minimalist and our names are only on the door because we wrote them there on a white erase board we have tissues, candy and a tea corner for guests-it has really proven itself a lovely place to do some heavy reading as I have tried to narrow my thesis- something along the lines of an economic analysis of the impact of the value chains of alternative agricultural networks in cocoa. 

I live in a quaint 22 person “Hall of Residence” with 17 Chinese “flatmates” from Wuhan, a guy from Sri Lanka, Rosanna from Hong Kong who likes things so plain she doesn’t even put tea in her hot water, one Thai bloke and a Costa Rican who swears that everyone from Costa Rica has two belly buttons. I do not have any roommates- although roommate means something a little bit different here…I do not have any of “those kind” of roommates either. 

In fact, despite our best efforts to break up due to “logical reasons” and the generally dismal success rates of long-distance relationships, Ben and I are doing better than ever. Upon completion of a series of military schools as of April (or whenever the Army says so) Lieutenant Arbitter will be stationed on my neighboring Pacific Island, Hawaii. 

Though I haven’t gone for a proper tramp yet, I have gotten around quite a bit (… hmmm…please note that that sentence takes on a different meaning here, too). To Wellington with my friend and fellow North American, Caeley who likes trailmix as much if not more than I do (is that possible?) to watch the Allblacks defeat the Springbok’s in a cold and rainy testmatch. To Napier tagging along with my advisor, Hamish as he went off to a meeting and I did a little cappuchino-tourism through the art-deco town and black-stone beach. And around Palmy- where the birds make sure I don’t sleep in past 7:30 in order to spend some time at my favorite spots- the local library (coolest one I have ever been to), Café Cuba (where the largest coffee comes in a bowl) and the river trail where I have been training for the Manuatu Striders Half in a few weeks. 

That is the update for now- I am sure there are more adventurous adventures to come. Hope all is well at home- wherever home may be. 

Much love, 

Alexandra 

Commencement Address

Graduation Speech 

By: Alexandra Clark 

Eli Broad College of Business 

Michigan State University 

Class of 2010 


In 1905 my Great Grandfather was forcibly removed from Michigan Agricultural College. Having a mischievous way about himself, he had decided to interrupt a large assembly of academics on campus with the spray of a firehose- not only was he successful in drenching the audience but also entirely removing the plaster from the walls of Morril Hall. Twenty or so years later, my grandfather flunked out of Michigan State College and in 1974, my fathers graduation from Michigan State University was probably in peril when the MSU police called into question the rocket launching equipment that was mounted to the hood of the 1965 green fastback Mustang that he had parked in front of Abrams Planetarium.


Not everyone makes it to graduation. 


But we did. 


Not everyone gets that big envelope in the mail with the words, “Congratulations, You’re a Spartan”. Not everyone is accepted in to the Eli Broad College of Business, Not everyone can endure the 2 semesters of cafeteria flank steak, 4 years of Michigan Winters and 8+ weeks of finals it takes to become a Spartan. 


But we did. 


And we did not make it alone. We made it here on (one) the love of the people in the stands today, (two) the hard work of the people sitting in front of you and (three) the spirit of the people that we are sitting next to right now. 


We made it because of our families. We made it here one frozen, ziplock container of home-made minestrone soup at a time. We made it on Valentines Day cards with seemingly endless lines of X’s and O’s signed, “Love, Mom and Dad”. We made it on toilet paper rolls that went missing from home when we returned to school and on checks with the words “Tuition Payment”. We made it because our sisters answered the phone after one of those evenings that ended at Rick’s All-American Café and because our Grandma had an old Schwinn in her garage when we couldn’t afford a new bike. 


Families, your recipes fed our roommates, your couches have adorned our living rooms and porches. You taught us the kindness that keeps Willy the Can Man alive and gave us the smiles that walk this campus as our own. 


For the past four, or for some of us five years, the love and eclectic taste of our families has inspired us to dream of otherwise impossible journeys to amazing places, to fight unbeatable battles to balance budgets, to bear our most unbearable weeks on campus and the right the un-rightable wrongs of the world. 


Families, you have made us Spartans. 


Faculty and Staff: From N130 to Norway, from Lansing to Louisiana, from Eppley to Ethiopia, you have advanced our knowledge far beyond the confines of classroom and curriculum. You gave that thoughtful lecture that introduced us to our passions and that entertaining one that made those less interesting topics tolerable. Your advice made 21 credits in one semester possible and your smile with that bright, “good morning!” brought joy in the midst of chaos. With your introductions, letters of recommendation and stories- with your sticky notes of encouragement, papers full of red ink and early morning email correspondence- with your enthusiasm and dedication you have sincerely transformed our lives. 


You, faculty and staff, have made us Spartans. 


Yes, friends and fellow graduates, despite every library fine, parking ticket and bridgetask, we have made it here today. Through the week-long all-nighters, the loud piercing cries of pain and agony that echo through the campus the midnight before finals and those exams that left us dazed and hopeless- overwhelmed by the thought that perhaps we really were only learning more and more about less and less until eventually we may actually know everything about nothing at all. 


We may be exhausted, impoverished and potentially jobless. We may appear to be “just a bunch of broke college graduates” but when we account for the intangibles- for our roommates and Izzone campouts. For the days that we have spent on porches and patios, for consecutive final fours and the friends that we have met on campus and around the world. When we account for every crisp, fall Saturday morning that we spent eating brats for breakfast at the tennis courts and every picture we ever took with Sparty. When we account for every squirrel and duck. When we look beyond our degree to the place where it comes from where people nap by the river on sunny days and everyone has an angel to guide them- even if only online at angel.msu.edu. When we remember what we created together and what we, as Spartans have grown to become we would find that in reality we broke college graduates are much wealthier than we had ever thought. Because we will forever have this Spartan Spirit; this twinkle in our eye. We may be clueless as to our career path and yet, as Spartans, we are certain of our profession. We are (ready?) GO GREEN (GO WHITE) and let no one forget how menacing that can be. We have earned our place in a community of Magic, Zeek, Menna, Sparty, Johnny, Gumby and Izzo, a place that no one can ever take away and we owe it to the love of our sisters, brothers, aunts, uncles, moms and dads, grandparents, friends, teachers, mentors, administrators, professors, to each other, ourselves and all of our loved ones who could not be here with us today. 


Not everyone makes it to graduation. 


But baccalaureate candidates of the class of 2010, we just did. 


Thank you. 


Graduates please rise and help in thanking those people who made this day, our graduation possible. 

To Do List

Hello family, friends and fans!

Thank you for your patience as I vacationed, came home, moved into my new apartment, started classes, switched all of my classes, took up a research project and started watching some winning football games at Michigan State University! As I have been so busy my entire life seems to be run off of lists; things to pack, things to buy, things to do. So- in honor of completing my first to do list since I was in Norway by clicking send on this email, I thought that it would be best to set it up like so:


ALEXANDRA CLARK'S TO DO LIST (May 2008-September 2008)

o.Make some money
1) Complete a second hospitality internship at bd's Mongolian Grill (www.gomongo.com)
As "Marketing/Special Events Coordinator" for Metro-Detroit I had my work cut out for me- especially when the weekend after I was hired, I found out that Billy Downs, founder and now buddy (who had hired me) had sold his company. No worries, amidst the cold-calling, emails and job-description-defining I managed to create a program with The Girl Scouts of Metro-Detroit, make some great industry and community contacts and have my chance to step up to the plate and show 'em what I got. bd's is filled with great people that taught me that "How can I help you" is a ridiculously powerful way to make money- I loved the day my boss called me "Butter"...."cuz I'm on a roll."
2) Work my last summer at the Dairy King of Plymouth
That's right, it is official. After working a block away from home at the greatest ice cream store in the world for the past 7 years (with one year hiatus) I, Alexandra Clark have taken my place in the Hall of Fame as I officially retired on August 5th, 2008. I still visit for quality control on a semi-regular basis.

o. Have a social life
1) 4th of July
Running is so much better when you are running from one friend's cottage to the other! I took the whole 4th of July weekend off and packed in my family's brand-new-used bus gone RV to steal my friend Kristin from camp for a weekend of cottage/property hopping with the Movsesians, Sibbolds and Andersons. It was an all-American weekend filled with lakes, campfires, the Blue Angels a dune buggy ride topped off by spitting cherry pits out of the window on the way home.

2)Good Ol Motor-City
Downtown hoedown, Tigers Games, The Red Bull Air Races, Zachs of Plymouth, Mexican town and Aerodogy concerts. I love this city.


o. Do an Ironman
1) Pre-race
I had about two weeks of "tapering" before the race that I spent carb-loading (life is tough) by meeting encouraging friends for meals around town between packing and repacking and checking my packing job and then re-packing to make sure I didn't forget anything! Once we arrived in Vancouver it all started to feel real. I slept well, ate well and knew I did everything I could have done to be ready for this adventure.
2) Swim (Alex's counting system (ACS): 1 & 2)
The swim was beautiful- 2.4 miles lining the shore of a spring-fed inland lake as the sun rose over the mountains of Harrison Mills, B.C.. That is where you swim in heaven. As always, I took my time, relaxed and finished towards the back of the pack as the rain started to fall. Though the lake I was racing in was supposed to be clean enough to drink, you couldn't see the bottom the way you can at Torch and it just wasn't the same color of blue and turquoise and silver. (At least there weren't fish that eat dogs like my uncles told me about after my Whitmore-lake swim!)
3) Bike (Alex's counting system (ACS): 3, 4, 5 & 6)
Every long bike during training I would get a song or two stuck in my head that made the time pass by. For a long time I wondered what song it would be come race day but as the rain poured down it was brutally impossible to avoid humming a little CCR ..."Who'll stop the rain?" At least it's better than the half-Ironman where I couldn't kick the Michigan State University Fight Song. Fortunately, I made a happenstance friend, Ginny, on the bike who was one rad babe that kept my pace and who "got" the whole Iron-thing. The road quality was awful because of the rain so it was good to bike with someone with a positive attitude. I once heard that during and Ironman you bike until you are so ready to get off that you would do anything even if it meant running a marathon...
4) Run (Alex's counting system (ACS): 7, 8 & 9)
...That is so true. I happily greeted the run and felt fantastic for the first 4 miles until the worst stomach cramps I had ever had set in and I started to slow down. Unfortunately at the same time the rain began again too and when I turned the loop for the second half of my marathon it began to come down in sheets. It rained so hard that our LED lights were not enough and cars were going out with each athlete still running the mountain road. Luckily, Mom, Dad and Shelley were quick to jump in our rental-car and cheered my through every step of the 13+ miles. I stayed as contently subdued as possible and practically meditated on Billy's advice to "Just keep moving". Though I made the commitment a year prior to complete an Ironman, I didn't truly believe that I would finish until I hit the last aid station 1.5 miles from the finish line. Suddenly, running was much easier and it seemed like every inspirational ironman moment I had had from running in Ireland to Bob Marley singing that "Everything's gonna be alright" to my cousin Dan telling me he believed I could finish and my cousin Mike saying that he gives Ironmen his "Ultimate Respect" to the poster's that the (awesome) Downs family kids made for me, to having a 50-year-old man you respect tell you you're his hero, to the article about Carrie Underwood that I hate because it says that determination is being able to eat only one weightwatchers bar a day... (and i don't use this term often or lightly, but) Fuck that...

5) Finish (Alex's counting system (ACS): 10!)
...Determination is 14 hours and 40 minutes in pouring rain so that you can cross the finish line of what is considered to be one of the greatest tests of man...as a 20-year old woman.

My mom and Shelley crossed the finish line with me, and my dad caught me on the other side. After a quick celebration with some other athletes and a last stop at the special needs area we drove to our hotel and I clumsily danced in the shower as I "washed that race right out of my hair, oh yes I washed that race right out of my hair, yes I washed that race right out of my hair and send him on his way......" Fortunately the family was out grabbing bags and ordering pizza and were not subjected to my whole-hearted yet substandard rendition of South Pacific.

So the big question: Would I do another one? Yep. Planning on it. Just let me graduate from college first, okay?

o. Celebrate Ironman (very important)
I spent the following ten days around British Columbia relaxing being sure to cheers at least once a day to my victory.
1)Tattoo
Yes, it hurts to get a tattoo. No, not as bad as Ironman! I never thought I would get one, but even my mom said that if she did an Ironman she would so I figured, what the hell! Not to worry it is inconspicuously hidden on the right side of my right foot and only about one square inch. I love it.
2) Eat (Chocolate) and (Legally) Drink Booze
We drove back to Vancouver the day after my Ironman to enjoy a delicious family celebratory dinner of Semi-dry Riesling, Shrimp Cocktail, Carprese and Dessert (what could ever make me happier?) at a dock-side restaurant called Cardero's where I think we got the best table in the house.
The rest of my time spent in BC with Nick Roberts (the boy from Norway) was run off of a to do list that was quite food-heavy. From Eat a Splitz Burger to Roger's Chocolates to Eat Sushi in Whistler to Make Nick Roberts pancakes to Go back to Granville Island - buy more food to Eat fish tacos to Eat Noodle Box to Wander through Chinatown - eat Chinese food to Have a Bellini to Have a picnic (well kind of) to Eat Eggs Benedict at Wildwood Bistro we did it all and I went home a satiated little girl.

3) Enjoy the great outdoors
There is actually a song by Fat Joe that was written about my running shoes. For those of you who are not from Detroit thus not exposed to an ample amount of Gangsta Rap to know who he is the lyrics are something like, "I make it rain (I make it rain) I make it rain on them hoes I make it rain,(I make It rain) I make it rain on them hoes I make it rain,(I make it rain) I make it rain on them hoes I make it rain(I make it rain) I make it rain on them hoes" Never-the-less we had to conquer our list so often having been told to "cross that bridge when I get to it" I came to the Lynn Valley Suspension Bridge and crossed it. Unsatisfied, when we got to Whistler and came to the next bridge we decided to jump off into the River of Golden Dreams. And, after our first attempt was cut short by lightning strike, Nick's mom reminded us that there is no such thing as bad weather, just poor clothing so ever valiantly we returned to hike at the top of Whistler Mountain (without much of a view), went on a zip-line through the trees and went out on the town at night. Whistler may be a little less enjoyable in the rain, but because of it I got to eat more cookies and drink more tea.

My shoes were not invited back.

4.) Sit
I sat at garden at the Empress in Victoria and at the Imax watching "Shine a Light" (when I decided I want to be just like Keith Richards). I sat on a rock at the top of Whistler mountain and while watching a man stack rocks at Stanley Park. Much more uncomfortably I sat with my Canadian friends and watched the Olympics as Micheal Phelps won more gold medals than Canada and then finally, I sat the whole plane-ride home.

o. Go back to school
1) New apartment
I have a trash compactor. Not only that but I have my own room that has its own bathroom that is across from our own laundry room! I have a crown over my bed and a mattress pad that is so thick it is nearly too tall to get into....I think I am the princess with the pea. My cookbook collection has found a home on shelves near the kitchen and my room icould best be described as being a la mode de les flying pigs in the international jungle (on fire). Should you feel inclined to send chocolates, cards, large sums of money or extra-veggies with sausage and pepperoni pizza, my address: 1151 Michigan Ave., Apt 306B, East Lansing, MI 48823

2) New Major
The official title of my education is B.A. in Hospitality Business with a specialization (MSUsian for minor) in Food Science. How is that different? It means I got to drop Chemistry AND I will graduate in May 2010 and not 2011.

3.) New Endeavor
Through the College of Agriculture and Natural Resources, I was invited to do a research project on cocoa! I am studying the effects and viability of fair trade cocoa and cocoa sustainability/responsibility in order to predict future movement as compared to coffee (and when the best time to enter the market would be!). Basically, I am researching why everyone "has to have" fair trade Rowandan coffee to drink while they carelessly eat their resource-exploiting chocolate bar (I do it too...there's not much of an option!).

Well- hitting send will feel nice. Tomorrow will inevitably bring a new to do list, and I will be sure ya'll stay up-to-date.

Cheers,

Alexandra

P.S. To everyone who donated to Charity: Water and SCOUT BANANA, checks were put in the bank last week and all of your tax info will be in the mail ASAP! Thank you- I managed to raise more than enough to place and maintain a well in Africa for 20 years!

Takk-Giving

Hei Hei fra Norge!

Happy Thanksgiving! 
Katherine and I celebrated over-seas by hosting Takk-giving (Takk=Thanks) for 16 exchange students from around the world. Feeling obligated to educate, we introduced hand-turkeys (yes, the ones from kindergarten), encouraged “typical American” apparel, enlightened them on the joys of sweet potato (and pumpkin, and apple, and pecan) pie, then ripped off the tablecloths for a post-dessert game of beer pong. Katherine’s mom sent us an email reminding us that we have a lot to be grateful for this year. She is right, and as the days get shorter, so does our time here in Oslo…we find ourselves savoring every last minute of both. We try to get outside sometime between 9:00 and 14:30 when the sun is still in the sky, but with 5 hour long finals, review sessions and sleep I am thankful that I am a night person. 

Norway is about the same size as Michigan with less than half the population, so I find flying out of the domestic terminal is a little humorous. A couple weeks ago I visited my friend Henrik (who I had met in Aspen) at his home in Tonsburg, an hour south of Oslo. Established in AD 871 it is the oldest city in Norway and home to the castle Castrum Tunsbergis intact with distinguishable wall, turrets, and one hell of a view of the fjord. Katherine and I also had a chance to head to Stavenger, Norway’s oil capitol. A little Norwegian History: Norway used to rely heavily on the sardine packing industry and thus (as you can imagine) was dirt poor until the 1970’s when (surprise!) they found an oil field off the coast and consequently, Norway’s “Average Jonas” became a very wealthy man. Other than petrol, Stavenger also has a quaint downtown, great beaches and some friends of my roommate’s who hosted our stay and taught us how to make traditional Pepperkaker cookies (think gingerbread and white icing). Their beautiful traditional wooden cottage complete with crackling fireplace was a harsh contradiction from our apartment’s minimalist motif somewhat-less-complete with Ikea candle. We exploited the opportunity to relax.

The last of my traveling included a rendezvous with my mom and three of my aunts (post Paris girls weekend) in green, green Ireland. Within an hour of meeting them at Dublin Airport we were quite literally having a blast (no comment). After a stimulating drive on the “wrong” side of the road through a scattered matrix of stone-fenced fields of multi-colored (tagged) sheep we arrived in Galway at the Sea Breeze Lodge B&B. The next morning I woke up early, pumped up the “St. Patrick’s Day” mix on my iPod and hit the road along The Atlantic watching the sun rise over the bluffs. Running in countries like Ireland and Germany where so many people have ran before is an indescribable means of Ironman motivation. 

After a hot plate of grilled tomatoes and white pudding we jumped on a bus to explore the lakes, harbors, fields and mountains of Connemara, one of the few traditional and galic speaking regions of the country. The tour stopped at the Kylemore Abbey, a former private residence built by textile merchant and politician Mitchell Henry in 1863 (later sold to and currently run by the Benedictine Nuns). My favorite part was the gardens that were nestled between mountains and surrounded by a tall brick wall. Still somewhat in shambles, it was like a secret garden, filled with everything from exotic plants to pumpkins. The next day, after a bit of shopping in Galway, we hopped back in the car and returned to Dublin to hit the town. Although we had a lovely time in the Temple Bar district enjoying our freshly brewed Guiness and Bulmers Cider, we were pointed in the direction of a dirtier, grungier, livelier and far superior locals pub that had a great jam session going on that evening (with a very cute fiddle player). I want to go back with my father and my hammered dulcimer. 

In the morning, with the help of the nicest taxi driver I have ever met, we succeeded in finding the small cottage overlooking the mountains where my great grandmother left her family100 years ago. It was hard to imagine how desperate times had been for her to walk out that front door alone at 16, en route to a country thousands of times farther than she had ever dreamed. I really cherished sharing that moment with my aunts. Traveling Europe with a small group of 50 year old women is a very different than with a large group of college students but I thoroughly enjoyed getting spoiled by my Aunt Patty and Aunt Susie, discovering that my Aunt Joanie and I have exceptionally similar taste, and using a fake ID to get into a bar with my mom. 

Speaking of spoiling…If you are ever wondering what to get me for my birthday, Christmas (or holidays in general), any large life event like graduation or a wedding, there is now an answer: Puccini Chocolate (www.puccinibomboni.com). Upon tasting it on that corner of Staalstraat in Amsterdam, a feeling of completion inundated me completely as I realized that I have tasted the most amazing thing in the world and can now die happy. 

Perhaps it has something to do with the chocolate, my triathlon-driven love of bicycles, or the way the lights sparkle on the canals at night, but Amsterdam surpassed Prague as my favorite city in Europe. Feeling adventurous on our bikes, we made our way outside the city and to the small village of Ransdorp. It was everything that you could ever want in a small Dutch village; tiny cottages on the water, cute old Dutch people watching us (clearly NOT locals) from behind lace curtains, and a man driving a front loader down the main drag with a dead goat. Our trip had good timing and we were in the city for MuseumN8, a yearly museum bar crawl that included everything from DJ’s to light shows. Like Marijuana until the 1970s, for two centuries Catholicism was illegal in Amsterdam beginning in 1575 after the Protestant Reformation, so Catholics in hiding worshiped at the “Our Lord in the Attic” church disguised as a canal house in the Red Light District where, while waiting in line on MuseumN8, I was struck by the mirror of a small truck. Why that is relevant to this letter home… I was hit by a truck while waiting in line for church in Amsterdam’s Red Light District. Now that’s a story to tell your mother. 

Life in Oslo by comparison is incredibly less exciting, although with guests in town we have managed to see it in a new light. My exploration got me in trouble when I found myself INSIDE of one of Norway’s most famous tourist attractions at Frogner park and consequently also found myself to be the laughing stock of a swarm of Japanese tourists who thought my predicament was photo-worthy. 

Finals continue through December 19th and then it is time to say goodbye to Oslo and my adopted family of friends here. As unusual as it will be to take weekend trips to Plymouth instead of Prague and to be to young to go to the bar I am looking forward to most things American. I suppose I could always go to Windsor if I miss that oh-so-pleasant customs experience. My family will be in Norway to celebrate Christmas and then I fly home to kick off the New Year with the first real swim of Ironman training on January 1st. 

I hope all is well at home, wherever home may be!

Alexandra