There’s a gentleman who plays guitar on the banks of the Thames, near the Tate Museum in London.
There are times when I feel like maybe I’m asking a little too much of the universe (“Give me an awesome husband, the opportunity to travel around the world, and lots of cupcakes, please. Also, I’d like to meet Jeff Goldblum.”) I try to keep it in check, I really do (notice I didn’t ask…
– I have a confession. It’s kind of a doozy. Are you ready? Here goes … I don’t love chocolate. Hey, where are you going? Hello… ? Wait … what is that? Is that a straight jacket? OH DEAR GOD WHY DO YOU HAVE A STRAIGHT-JACKET?
Recently, I saw my first Banksy. Despite all the trips I’ve taken to London, I’ve managed to miss the provocative street artist’s work. On more than one occasion I’ve walked right passed his creations, failing to notice them at all. That nearly happened again this time, owing to the steak and kidney pie that was…
When I am hungry while traveling, things go downhill very quickly. I become snappy and irritable and overly-sensitive. In a town like Munich, this can be problematic, because German isn’t exactly a delicate sounding language to begin with. Even when folks are being courteous (which they often are in Bavaria), I want to respond to them in one…
– I have a bladder the size of a chipmunk’s. No, no – stop praising me on how amazing this is. How it’s so ladylike and really quite Hollywood to have a bladder so svelte and small. That Angelina’s or Gwyneth’s is probably barely bigger than my own. Because despite how glamorous it sounds, let…
– It’s not easy being Portland. Staying on the cutting edge of weird, on the forefront of WTF, can only be exhausting. The city is constantly inventing, perfecting, and growing tired of things that won’t reach the rest of us until months or even years later. They are the connoisseurs of pastimes we don’t yet know exist.
For years, The British Museum in London was like a book I’ve cracked open a dozen times, but was never able to get passed the first chapter. I knew its beginning pages almost by heart. The crowds in front of the Rosetta Stone are mentioned in the dedication. This little one-eyed bird made an appearance in…
– I am occasionally faced with a temptation that I, fortunately, have yet to act upon. My husband delicately describes it as “socially unfeasible.” I simply think it’s madness. Delicious, delicious madness. The temptation is this: I want to eat food that doesn’t belong to me. Now, before you start telling me that everyone feels…
Tales of Food, Feminism, and Fury
by Geraldine DeRuiter
Available Now!
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