The day before yesterday, I started musing: on Wednesday it would be February 6, and I would be all aloooooone. And a little bit homesick, and yet what could I do? I couldn't have a cricket match, because no one here knew how to play. I couldn't eat pavlova, because it'd start arguments with Australians. I couldn't throw mud at the Prime Minister, because it wouldn't be very nice.
And then inspiration came.
And so I collected together some floormates, and we made chocolate fish.
They were pink and sweet and very sticky. As confectionery went, there was certainly room for improvement -- but as exotica, they were excellent. I left some at home, took some to uni, and fielded questions.
Hans: Does one wish someone a "Happy Waitangi Day"? "Merry"? "Congratulations on the occasion of"?
My floormate Lena: What are your exciting New Zealand Day traditions?
My classmate Clemens: What are we celebrating? The signing of a humane and revolutionarily civilised colonisation treaty that was later repeatedly broken? why, how very interesting.
My classmate Leander: What are your national songs like? Can you sing one? Please?
Unidentified model theory classmate: So, how do you spell this . . . er . . . Vy-tay-ni?
Emily: What is this pink thing you're giving me made of? Oh -- marshmallow, really? . . . I'd never have guessed.
It was fun while it lasted.
But now the chocolate fish are all gone.
Wednesday, February 6, 2008
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1 comment:
I love the photo essay of the creation and demise of your chocolate fish. I should object to them on principle, but they look very interesting all the same.
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