....And then, we'll take Berlin!

 A long few days preceding take-off, including more than one trip to the vet which really borked up our timetable! Not least because I was trying madly to finish a sweater to take with me.

And finish it, I did. The shoulder seams are less-than-perfect, as are the last 3 inches of the second side (I was seaming on the SkyTrain to the airport!) When we got to YVR, Mr.Q had lunch while I finished weaving in the ends, before we went through security.

 

Waiting to board...KLM was a delight to fly with! And not only because of the free booze.

 A long, long layover in Amsterdam...Mr.Q slept in a lounge chair while I gawked at the many, many cheeses for sale. (I also had a bit of a nap, but not nearly as epic as his!) Passport Control was painless (and cute! As in, adorable. I swear the guy was only about 20.)

Waiting near our gate, I had a very fine cup of coffee (with complimentary chocolate bon bon!)

 

Arrival in Berlin last night was also painless, and the taxi driver (unlike what we're used to in Vancouver!) didn't try to kill us. We've rented a studio apartment for the week, and our hostess was most helpful in getting us settled. Before she left, she made sure we knew how to get to a nearby grocery, which we hit up for some essentials before we went to bed: cheese, bread, wine, beer, and some breakfast fixings. A quick snack when we got back, and we fell into a coma.

Happily, we seem to have largely escaped jet lag, and we woke up to a sunny day, and a view of the courtyard we hadn't seen in daylight.

(My derp! moment of the day: waking up, looking out the window, and exclaiming "It's so quaint! So charming! It looks so European!" Mr.Q just gave me a look. "Oh, right. Hahaha! We are in Europe!"

Cooked up a hearty breakfast, put on our walking shoes, and headed out to explore the neighbourhood. Found a lovely little cafe, whose baristas were most understanding & helpful when Mr.Q ordered for us...See, he speaks a little high school German, enough to get by, but not much more. Me? I tell him what I want, and he translates for me. So the baristas were quite accomodating. One spoke some English; the other spoke German very slowly, with many gestures. We ended up with some fine coffee, and a sidewalk view of Prenzlauer-Berg on a Sunday.

(Thing I loved best about the place: the fleece wraps laying over the backs of the outside chairs!)

,

 Back "home" for a bit of a nap for me, while Mr.Q went out exploring for a bit on his own. He came back with flowers, and more beer.

 

 

 

 Now getting ready to head out to his first gig...and our first attempt at using transit here! The adventure continues!

Antici.....

I sense a pattern here...

Saturday morning. Mr.Q is out buying cat food so they don't eat us in our sleep, the greedy beasts. I have the place to myself, and can do anything I want. Anything. Secret things, all juicy and luscious. 

Like this!

French bread, lightly toasted; a thin slip of mayo, some 1-year-old white cheddar, and thick, messy slices of a "black" tomato the size of a baby's head. Dust it all with a hint of fresh-ground sea salt. Let eyes roll back into head while eating, to enhance the experience. Consider hiding the other half of the tomato, for a repeat performance tomorrow. 


(Hey, I shared the pear, didn't I?)

Heaven is a place on Earth...

...and that place is in my mouth!  


Specifically, this bit of tasty is - or rather, was - in my mouth:

That, my friends, is a saffron-poached pear. I think there was white wine and honey and some cinnamon involved, too. (No, I did not make it myself: I bought it at Whole Paycheque today, and it was worth every (surprisingly reasonable) penny!)


If ever Mr.Q doubts that I love him, I shall direct him to this post. Which I would like to close by pointing out that I saved half of this for him. Because I am just that awesome. 


(But sweetie, you should probably stop reading here, because I can't guarantee that there will be any of that heirloom tomato left for you, and I'd rather keep that dark little secret to myself. It's not you, it's me. And my unreasonable, irresistible lust for summer tomatoes. I always come back to you, though!)

Where have you been, Billy Boy?

I know, I know. I post a few teasers of Sock Summit, and I fall off the face of the earth again. (Sorry, Dad!) (Who may be the only person who still checks in here from time to time!)

In my defense, Sock Summit took some recovery time. And then it got me in trouble again. (Or, rather, SS09 did, as it re-awoke a taste for adventure & travelling, & the willingness to live on tuna casserole for months at a time in order to save the necessary pennies...)

First, there was SS09. Then, there was Rhinebeck & Montreal. Then, there was SS11 (with a few wee road trips & winery tours thrown in for local colour.) Since I came back from Portland this time, I've been largely occupied with knitting myself a new cardigan.  When not tangled up in skeins and skeins of yarn (delicious Miss Babs, from SS09!), I have been doing a ridiculous amount of internet research and planning, so as to have the best time possible while wearing this new sweater.

It turns out that this fall, we are going here for a week, and then spending another week going here, and here, and finally here.

The degree to which I am excited is ridonkulous. I am trying to only talk about it half the time, rather than all the time. There is regular flailing, of the Kermit variety, chez Q.

So, that's where I've been. And where I'm going!

Pictures and words and stuff

So I've been home from Sock Summit 2011 for almost 2 weeks, and I've been trying to distill the whole experience into a coherent post or two.

Not happening!

Instead, here are some of the more representative pics I took. You'll have to use your imagination to fill it all in. I promise you, it was even geekier than it looks, and at least twice as awesome as you could possibly imagine. 

I can hardly wait till 2013!

The Party's Over

On a north-bound train, about 3 hours out of Portland...with far too much stuff to manage gracefully getting to the train station. I was actually quite restrained with the yarn purchases (though not necessarily with other "infrastructure" - needles, project bags, etc!) However, the big box of Voodoo Doughnuts may have been overkill - rather a bitch to juggle with all my luggage! Glad to be going home; I'm tired, and ready for my own bed. It's been a crazy few days! I can't wait to see the pics - I still haven't figured out the photo software on my netbook, so looking at the pics will have to wait till tomorrow at home.

It was odd - somehow this Sock Summit was less "Exciting" - it didn't have all the shiny newness of the last (first!) Gathering of the Tribe two years ago. Yet, somehow it was also more satisfying - I had a better idea of how to pace myself, and took a lot of time to just hang, visit with people, and explore Portland a little more. And I had a chance to connect with folks who I'd met last time around, some of whom have become good friends in the meantime. Of course, there were also ample opportunities to meet new people, and to put real faces and voices to internet names. And because I was a little more oriented this time around, I got a lot more out of the classes I took and the brains I got to pick!

I had a funny moment in the taxi after the Sock Hop on Saturday. The driver was making small talk, as they do, and he asked if I was in town for a conference. "Yep. It's a sock knitting convention."

His head actually tilted sideways. "What?"

"A sock knitting conference."

Head tilted the other way. "What?!"

"It's called Sock Summit. It's the second one that's been held here."

"So you....get together and knit socks? Do you talk about knitting socks?"

"Yep! There are a few thousand people here, from all over the world."

"Do you...like...take classes and stuff?"

"Oh, yeah! I've had some great classes!" So I told him about the photography class and the ergonomics class, and the Sock Hop, and getting together with friends from the opposite side of the continent, and the trip down on the train, and how much I enjoy Portland....And by the time we got to the hotel, he was sold on the idea. "That's pretty neat!" he said, more than once.

As I was getting out of the taxi, I couldn't resist adding, in my chipper-est voice: "And on Sunday, there will be sheep!"

Poor guy did an epic headtilt. I hope he didn't injure himself! And I sure hope he saw the full-page spread in today's Oregonian.