We went to the Aquarium while we were in Valencia. It’s often what we do when we’re visiting a city and it’s raining outside – an unplanned tradition, one that formed slowly, but one we’ve stuck to nevertheless. L’Oceanographic Aquarium at the Ciudad of the Arts and Sciences is rather sprawling; Rand and I easily lost…
I’ve never been one to have much restraint when it comes to sweets, especially when I can eat them in the name of “research.” “It burns more calories this way,” I will say to Rand, my mouth full of fried dough. He has learned, over the years, not to challenge this assertion. The Spanish,…
Paco Roig Bakery, Mercat Central, Valencia: “I love you.” “Awww, well, I lo– wait … are you talking to the croissant?” “… Yes.”
My muscles hurt. This is only slightly unexpected. I have been known, on occasion, to go for a run, even if it might be in pursuit of an ice cream truck. But lately, I’ve been running, doing the occasional push-up, and, perhaps most shockingly of all, I’ve been eating with a more discerning eye. This…
Last week, I went for a run to the park near our home. And by “run” I mean jog. And by “jog” I mean walking in sort of bouncy way that, if viewed at a much higher speed, would suggest the act of physical exercise. All while wheezing like an asthmatic Darth Vader. Ahem.
Tales of Food, Feminism, and Fury
by Geraldine DeRuiter
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