Hungry for Knowledge

There's always something new to be learnt. Everyday and everywhere.

Funnily enough a lot of the things that I've learnt as I continue to stumble through this bizarre jungle gym of a life, seem to have come not from my expensive education but from pure and simple experience. Cioè, quite simply from living it (surprise surprise).

Today, I learnt that the part of the human brain that controls our appetite and regulates how hungry or satiated we feel is called the appestat. How did I learn this?

By going to Appestat of course (and googling it whilst waiting for my saucisson sandwich).

It's a great little café-cum-pantry tucked away on Islington High Street, within skipping distance from Angel station, new to the 'hood at just 10 weeks old. I had originally planned to haul my laptop, and my arse, to The Coffee Works Project (which I still have yet to try) just a couple of doors down, but the low-key cosiness of Appestat prevailed and before I knew it I was inside.

They've got the simplicity of the decor spot on - not wannabe-rustic nor try-hard hipster; a small pantry-shop section at the entrance with cheeses chilling and cured meats resting and further along a nice lounging area for sitting with a cup of tea or coffee, alone or with a pal, as you like. Plain, clean, simple and functional furniture, friendly staff and no offensively loud music. Indeed, the perfect place to work your appestat.

The discovery of this haven was not my only lucky encounter of the day. I also bumped into an acquaintance precisely as I was being drawn in to this very café. In the end I had the added bonus of new friendly company with my cup of coffee.

I realise my opening remarks may have set a false tone to this post; it may have seemed, initially, as though I had something profound to say about the things that we learn in life. 

Alas, I don't. 

All I can say from my own jumbled efforts to reach the end of each day as unscathed as possible, is that no matter how hard I try to design and shape and select what I learn, what ends up sticking will often come either in an uncontrollable avalanche of events, at times emotionally shattering, or as little trinkets of knowledge and happenings that are swept up along the way and leave individual marks on me and the way I see things. What is more, no matter how hard I try to learn from my mistakes or avoid getting myself in certain situations, from time to time, I will always manage to wind up in those very situations. To put it more poetically, the poo on the road will always somehow find its way Conti the sole of your shoe when you least expect it (as, indeed, it did with me today. Literally.)

Maybe all one can really do, in that case, is learn to deal with it better when it happens. 

Today I discovered that I had the developed the ability to laugh and shrug things off
-albeit after some justified swearing-
and that this little trick is probably a big factor, if not the key, to happiness in my humble existence.

That and remembering to continue being curious, inquisitive and explorative.

Toodaloo

P.s. Do pick up after your dogs though folks. Spread the word.

(TED) Talking about Time

It's certainly been a while. Too long in fact.

Weeks have whizzed by; flitting between cities, houses and faces, both familiar and unfamiliar, and finally things have begun to settle down, starting with my achieving the unachievable (finding a house in London). All in all it has been a blur of a couple of months and now that time of the year has come again; the time for gawking at the sight of the Christmas decorations and bright orange leaves that adorn the streets of London. The time when it dawns on you that winter is on the horizon and yet another year is, indeed, coming to an end.

The wise out there, who have hit riper ages beyond their late-twenties, will be able to recall that their early twenties were an awkward few years of self-realisation, frustration, and uncertainty. In fact, this may well still ring true now and continue to do so until much later on (dare I say it may never end)?

Well, the rut that I find myself in now is precisely that which I have taken the liberty to call:

"Being 22"

Not quite fully independent, financially or socially, being a 22 year old 4th year undergraduate has been characterised by face-offs with my laptop, night after night, looking for jobs for next year rather than writing my essay for next week. An overwhelming sensation of rootlessness and lack of definition in my daily activities has temporarily (one would hope) debilitated me from doing anything meaningful in the intervening minutes and hours that sneak in between lectures, trainings, meals and bedtimes.

I say this very much aware of the fact that this is a rather poor argument laden with faults: laziness, poorly constructed excuses, and too much time-wasting to mention a few. These little intersections - the awkward 37 minute gap between the moment you finish your lunch leading up to your next appointment or that 1 hour and 24 minute train journey to your next destination - are the little pockets of time which are so often undervalued when they are actually golden nuggets there for the taking. Too often do we let them slip through our fingers, when we should be scooping them up selfishly and pocketing them with care.

When tired and ready to switch off after a long day, evenings are habitually set aside for dinner, faffing around online, replying to emails, tidying up bits and bobs and various loose ends that are relatively unimportant but nevertheless need to be seen to. These are some of the faux-productive activities that lull us into a sensation of being organised and productive. Leisure reading is sent to the back of the queue following work and academic reading and a film is a guilty treats on a night off. Awkward gaps in the day are filled with more aimless scrolling and surfing  - and so, rather than picking up my half-finished summer read, my days are marked with intermittent breaks browsing facebook and other relatively useless social media websites.

Well my friends, an inch an hour a foot a day.

These little nuggets of time add up and by the time you know it, your daily dose of dispersed 5 minute Facebook sessions amount to a considerable amount of lost time; irretrievable minutes which you would have been better off spending day dreaming or going for a walk in the park.

You're better off kicking back and relaxing, or pondering, or staring into space - because at least this way your mind is free to wander.

Stefan Sagmeister: The Power of Time Off

A couple of little things that I have introduced into my daily routine includes listening to podcasts.
It's a great awkward-time filler and, having selected informative ones, it jogs the mind a bit as well.

Freakonomics and Stuff You Should Know are particular favourites.

It's time to spend time more meaningfully.

Happy Tuesday!

Bologna Delights

It was nice to be back in London over Christmas. I do love the city; the familiarity of it, the vitality of it and obviously the company that comes with it. Of course, I was able to enjoy the things that I had taken for granted until leaving it, like the tube and the culinary adventures that are on offer in the refreshingly cosmopolitan setting. But it was also particularly nice to learn, in turn, the various things that I have come to appreciate about Bologna. And so today's ramblings will concern just a couple of things that Life alla Bolognese from the past three months has brought to my attention. Just three points, so bear with me!

1. I would like a coffee please - to drink, not bathe in.
This one was brought to my attention when my boyfriend dropped me a text saying that he was full after meeting a friend for coffee at Starbucks. It is worth mentioning now that he is a ravenous rugby player who could eat a person of my size for tea and still be hungry. And yet he was full after a coffee. And it's no wonder; the bloody things come in buckets the size of our head. Literally.

I'm not a fan of the big coffee chains that you come across every 2 seconds, around every corner, and on every high street anyway, but when I was back in London, I popped into the Costa next to my university for a quick caffeine fix before heading to the library. I couldn't help but laugh out loud when I saw their "large" size coffee mugs. The things have two handles on each side (probably essential given the volume and thus the weight of fluid that they carry) and are more like soup bowls - in fact, it took me a while to figure out whether they actually were soup bowls or not. Of course, there are plenty of little cafes that know their coffee and their cups, dotted around London but I now know to make it a priority to enjoy gulp-sized doses of the stuff for a couple of euros in Italy while I can.

2. What's with all the beards?
Italians do love to gossip. But this is mainly done over aforementioned thimble sized cups of coffee. In other words, yes there is gossip, but once you've swallowed your espresso, and this does not take long, it's on to bigger and better topics. I couldn't help but notice that Italians are very well informed about their own country's history and culture. They have a lot to say about its politics, its economy, its art and they love their philosophy. Coffee is for gossip but over wine is where it gets interesting. The sense of despair that a lot of Italians are feeling towards their politicians and their economy is rather clearly articulated and the more wine that goes down, the more passionate they become. It rings true with older people and students alike. What makes these late night chats with the people here even better is their bluntness. They are not afraid to say what they think, nor to ask questions (about anything and everything. And yes, sometimes they can come across as ignorant or narrow-minded, but hey, at least they've got the guts to ask.) Their lack of embarrassment makes you less embarrassed to ask questions too and this, in turn, paves the way for both parties to discuss, to debate, to question, to teach, to learn and to mull over things together. Whether you remember it or not the next day is irrelevant. Just the other evening I got an education in politics over carbonara and wine. We discussed bimbos and Berlusconi (naturally) and immigration, amongst other things, and tried to grapple with ideas much bigger than ourselves. And though I was by far the most ignorant out of the lot, I enjoyed every minute of it. Bologna is particularly packed with budding philosophers; a lot of the students are a pensive, philosophical bunch (and they have the beards to go with it too).

(As a little bonus: I also learnt the word "fricchettone" which I found amusing; it's a word that describes someone that tries to come across as nonconformist, rejecting social traditions etc. but, not really knowing enough about their ideological stance, turn out to just be rebellious in a very showy, superficial way. All of that packed into one word.)

3. Cibo cibo cibo  
Food, obviously. Novel, I know.
But you've got to hand it to them: Italians know good food.
One of my favourite weekly excursions are my trips to the Mercato della Terra (which I've mentioned before in a previous post) on Saturday mornings. I take my time to check out all the stalls, the cheeses on offer, the vegetables, the meat and the fish. The market, apart from the summer time when it is every Monday night, goes on from 9.00-13.00. For a lot of people it is not only where they load up on groceries, but the perfect excuse to spend a slow Saturday morning chatting over fried, fresh fish and pork tigelle, while drinking a glass or two (or three) of wine, free of judgement, before midday. It is a hub for friends to eat and drink and inform one another of their weekly affairs and for families to start their weekend together with a good nibble. The people behind the stalls are also great; last week I bought purple broccoli, today I got an odd looking root vegetable (its name escapes me) and on every such occasion, upon asking how to best prepare it, they always have the time to run me through some recipes before sending me on my way.
Today I bumped into a couple of acquaintances that I had met during my first house-hunting trip in Bologna before I started my year abroad. We had met at this very market; one is a Brazilian comedian of a man and the other an Italian chap, also a good laugh. I had been waiting for a while to be served while they, on the other hand, had only just arrived and so in order to jump the queue, they assumed the roles of my two husbands and I that of their polyandric Japanese wife. Yup, this morning I was a polyandrist on a grocery shop with her two husbands. That's the thing, you never know who you'll bump in to and what will become of your morning here. All in all, it is a gem for any foodie (which, let's face it, is just a nice way to refer to a glutton) who enjoys good food and even better company.

Buon appetito and Happy Saturday!

Specimen: A "Foodie"

Starbucks image from here.