Driving Miss Typ0

There I was I was sitting, per usual, in Red’s back seat (that’s the car’s name, BTW) reading a book and wondering how long it would take to get to the Hyatt when I saw the weirdest thing. I saw a yellow Volkswagen Bug with left-hand drive. Both my driver and I looked at it for a moment and shared a puzzled look. Why would anybody feel the need to import a wrong hand drive car here? That's really lame.

As I contemplated how long until the snazzy car got stolen, scratched and dinged up I got to thinking about cars here in Delhi. You can actually tell a lot about a person just seeing them in a car struggling to get through a roundabout.

So to that end, I’m going to share with you some of my deep car thoughts. Or as I dubbed it: “What people think when they see you in your New Delhi car.” (For the record, this had a way better title when I was sitting the car four hours ago.)

• The Expat Outsider: Sitting in the back seat of my car while my driver takes me around Delhi.

• The Suicidal Expat: Sitting the front seat while Hubby drives.

• The Embassy Expat: Drives car with blue CD plates

• The Overpaid Expat with a Family: Drives a Qwallis or SUV

• The Way Overpaid Embassy Expat: Drives a yellow imported VW Bug with left hand drive and CD plates.

• The Been here too long and you’re now jaded Expat: Senses the beggars and touts near the window and simply gets rid of them with a distracted shake of the head… Without ever looking at them.

These new observations inspired other observations…

• The most important safety feature in an Indian car: The Horn
• Second most important safety feature: High beams, which appear to be the only lights that work on most cars at night here. “I Wear My Sunglasses at Night” is no long a song: it’s a way of life.
• Best hotel feature: all the hotels here have free valet. This always reminds me of that line from “Clueless” where she’s supposed to be learning how to parallel park: “What's the point? Everywhere you go has valet.” Cher was so smart!

Oh and I almost forgot our final category of Expat car owner:

Q: What do you call an Expat who cries and goes into a panic swearing their day has been ruined just because their driver called out?

A: Loser Delhi_Typ0 Expat who should learn to drive on the wrong side of the road or just learn to buck up.

(As always, please feel free to disagree with that sentence.)

(Seriously! Disagree with it already!)

The Choices We Make

Despite the fact that tonight was a blissful “Becker”-free night I still couldn’t bring myself to watch the crap on TV. I know that you’re all shocked at this idea since it is a well-known fact that I can and will watch any crap that appears on my television at any hour of the day. Please I am one of the only three people who watched the short lived Medieval set Fox TV series “Covington Cross” back in the early ‘90s. I love television. But I couldn’t bring myself to watch "all new" three year old, crappy Indian TV this evening.

So I perused my bookshelves. In an odd first move, I checked out my serious books… for about 2 minutes. Realizing that reading about people’s organs liquefying in “The Hot Zone” or rereading the biography of Mick Foley were both not really up my mental alley for the evening I moved into the guest room. There I checked out my perfectly alphabetized and organized collection of books that I actually read: you know the trashy romances. Now I know you know that these are my “literature” of choice. (Hubby, the quotes around the “L” word for you.) But even the thought of reading about the perfection of love during the Regency era didn’t hold my attention for long.

So after making some KD for dinner I turned to my DVDs. That left me with the narrowing down process, which meant that I was going to have to make a decision. Dammit I hate making decisions. *pout*

Feeling contrary, I started at the end of the alphabet. Was it a Xena evening? While I love watching the Battling Bard it didn’t hold any allure. I have several musical-esque films I could have watched. One of these would have been ideal since I always sing along with musicals and can’t do that when Hubby is in town. I continued along the list of DVDs and contemplated Disney movies, action movies and even “Jackass the Movie.” That’s how desperate I was entertainment.

That’s when I realized what day it was: It was Rex Manning Day!!! That’s right i wanted to “say no more, mon amour!” It was time for a walk down memory lane with Liv, Renee and the rest of the gang at “Empire Records!”

I mean, seriously, who put the soundtrack together for this movie? Whoever you are, you’re a freaking genius. The weirdest thing about this movie is that it totally reminds me of my days working at the Central Library… Except that the movie has better music.

Memories brought on by movies. Life can be so totally OK sometimes. =)

Bliss thy name be Chocolate

Hubby and I have what we refer to as the “rotation.” What that basically means is that we enjoy going out to dinner (and having it delivered) but only go to a dozen or so places to actually eat. So that you don’t think too ill of us, Sunday, Tuesday and Thursdays we always cook our own dinner. (I won’t point out that this is because Maria, the housekeeper, will come in and clean our dishes on Monday, Wednesday and Friday. I’ll just let you think that we enjoying cooking but have a weird schedule.)

But when we do finally go out we have a few places we always go to. These of course, are the places that many of the other expats go to. Lizard Lounge or Kylin on a Friday night if we feel like drinking. Moshe’s or 360 on Saturday if we want a nice sit down place.

But we’ve gotten bored with the rotation. I wanted a new obsession so I asked around about a nice place to have lunch. Person after person said the same thing, in the same reverent hushed voice: Choko La. This was evidently a fairly new restaurant/café in Basant Lok that specialized in chocolate. Having heard my favorite three syllable word I quickly ushered Hubby there for a birthday lunch.

We sat down in the nicely designed café and perused the menu. I naturally went to the beverages first which turned out to be more complicated than advertised as they had at least 5 different types of hot chocolate. I asked for a recommendation and awaited my chocolate potion.

OH MY GOD!!! For those of you who have heard my Soup stories from Namibia… This hot chocolate goes on the same list as the Soup. Devine. Delectable. Sinfully perfect. I seriously can’t tell you enough good things about the hot chocolate I drank. The food on the hand was rather blah. But did I mention the hot chocolate?!! Bliss. Sheer bliss.

So next time you’re bored and in need a warm drop of ambrosia head to Choko La for some serious chocolate ecstasy.

I Love You

Today is my husband’s birthday.

Happy birthday, sweetie!

You are the very best thing that ever happened to me.

Oh Blessed Warmth

I woke up this morning and in a fit of randomness flipped the TV to CNN World. I listened half-heartedly to articles about Richard Branson’s latest whim, the Middle East’s latest insanity and a bizarre headline that seemed to imply that the US was the only member of NATO. Stirring my hot chocolate and wishing that I had whipped cream to improve the richness of my breakfast beverage the anchor started to talk about the slightly chilly weather in the US.

The wimps in the Midwest are complaining about the seasonally temperate weather in the region. So what if the thermometer says that it is below 0 degrees Fahrenheit. So what if a snowstorm is sweeping across most of Southern Canada and the northern states in the US. You people are wimps!

Oh, who am I kidding? You are the strong people I long to be; the people I used to be. For I am now a weak, weak woman. I give into the temptations of chocolate. I bow to the superior will of my credit cards while shopping. And now I gave up and gave in on the space heater front.

I used to revel in the chilly weather that begged me to wear sweaters and heavy winter coats. Matching scarves, hats and gloves to my jacket of choice in the winter was a joy. Walking through the pristine white fields of snow to dig my car out in the morning so I could get to work… Never mind I hated the driving and shoveling part. But I did love the walking in snow part!

Now I live in this wonderland of warm weather called India and I’m shivering just because the thermostat says that the weather has is now under 15 Celsius. Last night Hubby and I bought two space heaters. That’s right: TWO! I’m a double wimp. *sob* We’ve turned into feeble shades of our former selves who warm their hands in front of electric gadgets. If I keep this up, they’ll take away my Canadian citizenship due to the freakish inability to stand the cold.

If I cared about my pride, I’d turn the damn things off and deal with the chill. But I think that we all know that’s not going to happen any time in the next month or so…

Why Nairobi is Better than Delhi

By Special Guest Blogger Hubby

Well, I suppose it’s time for another guest blog, as I have been asked nicely to provide perspectives on my trips outside of Delhi. Fair enough. Anyways, I spent a week in Nairobi on a business trip during the last week of November; it is mainly my own sloth that has prevented from guest blogging sooner.

So… Nairobi. Well, for starters, there’s not a lot of difference weather-wise right now: warm days, cool nights, just like Delhi in November. The only difference is that it is always like that in Nairobi, whereas here we have to grapple with 100+ temps starting about April, so I’m told (we’ll find out soon enough). But that’s where the similarities end.

• Traffic: like Pakistan, it keeps to its own lane for the most part in Kenya. When it moves (which is about half the time), the average speed is about 150 km/h. Advantage: None.

• Food: OK there’s lots of Indian food in Kenya, from the large Indian population there. But there is MEAT and LOTS and LOTS of it. We went to a Brazilian BBQ that was downstairs from the hotel, which was all-you-can-eat everything: chorizo, beef (!!), ostrich, chicken, springbok, camel (really good I might add), plus a salad-bar, good drinks, desserts. Coming from my standard lunches of dal and aloo (potatoes for the uninitiated), this was a really nice change. Advantage: Kenya.

• Drink: Tusker in Kenya, Kingfisher/Castle in Delhi. Both pricey. Advantage: Toss-up, probably slight edge to Kenya since there’s more draught beer there.

• Security: A minus point for Nairobi. Security is intense. There is razor wire and high walls everywhere. On the building next to the hotel, you could see barbed wire on the roof itself from the hotel restaurant. When asked why you would have such a thing, I was told that thieves stole computers by cutting a hole through the non-secured, corrugated roof from another business a few months back. Hmm. I was also told about houses having panic rooms and panic rooms within panic rooms (think the Jodie Foster movie, but I don’t think the rooms are as modern as those). Advantage: Delhi.

• People: very friendly in Kenya. They are in India also, but it’s just a little more laid back in Nairobi, security notwithstanding. Advantage: Kenya.

• Shopping: THEY HAVE BIG SUPERMARKETS IN KENYA. BIG BIG SUPERMARKETS WITH EVERYTHING!!!! And, as an added bonus, they have good coffee in Kenya, as judged by the 2 kgs sitting in our freezer. Advantage: Kenya (double points here).

So does that mean we’ll be hopping on the next plane to Nairobi now? Probably not, but maybe someday in the future, we could be blogging from there.

A Day in Delhi

I know that you’re all dying to know what I do all day. (That was your cue to look interested and nod!) I was going to write about Monday but I spent the entire day trying to get a hold of our landlord to fix some problems around the house. So basically a blog about Monday would have involved me knitting, reading, watching TV and dialing and redialing the number to my landlord’s office. So I nixed the Monday plan.

I then turned my thoughts to Sunday. It was, by my new bored-out-my-skull-most-days standards a pretty good day. Hubby woke up early to play soccer so I sat in bed and read a trashy romance by one of my favorite authors. See, it’s already noon on Sunday and we’re only a few lines into this thrilling paragraph. I took a cold shower. (Dear Santa, this year all I want for Christmas is enough hot water on a daily basis to take a shower that lasts longer than 3 minutes. PLEASE! Please?)

Then we went shopping and ate cold, over cooked food lunch. We finished the day by having Hubby cook Jambalaya for me. Hubby is such a great cook. But that was kind of boring and I believe that I’ve already written about what a fantastic cook my Sweetie is now that we’re cooking with gas. (Lame joke, sorry.)

Shall I write about today? (Ok, since you insist!) I went to meeting for the Organization. My current pissiness about a post-meeting conversation shall not be discussed at this tine. Grrr. Arrgh. What the hell?! I miss two days and suddenly I’m a slacker? I was there for every other freaking day! (Oops, we weren’t going to discuss it, were we? Sorry.)

Onwards and upwards… I then went to the Delhi Network holiday luncheon. I love the DN and have met many of my Delhi friends through this organization. Ok most of my Delhi friends. That’s why when people at certain Organizations (that I have carefully not mentioned by name) ‘dis the DN I get mad. These women actually took care of me when I got sad, laughed at me when I was hung over and asked me to join them in friendship. I honestly can’t say the same for the other Organization at this point. Pathetic, huh?

Anyways, I am currently watching Buffy with my feet up on the couch and a glass of Fanta (not Fantica!) sitting on the table beside me. It’s beyond chilly in my apartment as I sit with my computer on lap to keep me warm. All in all Tuesday has been a good day.

I hope you’ve enjoyed my attempt at sharing a day in the life of your favorite Delhi Typ0. And I hope you realize now that I really am the world’s most lame human being. (That was your cue to disagree!)

More Weird New from Typ0

I have some good news and some weird news. As always, we’ll start with the good news. My Amazon order finally arrived. All the DVDs and books I ordered appear to be in good shape and I’m happily watching Titanic and reading a new trashy romance between blogs. Life is good. (Even if it did take a month and a half to arrive.)

On the weird front… You’ll recall that I posted earlier this week that I was no longer a fan of that evil thing called alcohol. Well, Hubby and I and a friend went to a local bar for drinks Saturday evening. The plan was for the boys to have a few drinks (pop for me, please) and a bite to eat before a party we were attending.

So we arrived at Punjabi by Nature around 7ish and headed up to the 2nd floor via the elevator per usual. We frequent this place fairly regularly so we knew which seats we wanted to bag as we headed left from the lift. That’s when the waiter saw us. “Oh Madam, welcome! Sex on the Beach, yes!”

Now I realize that we’ve been to Punjabi at least once or twice a month but we’re not there every week by any means. Yet they knew my face well enough to recognize me and my new drink of choice. You’ll be pleased (and no doubt shocked into temporary sobriety) to hear that I declined the vodka based drink and asked for a fruit drink they were well known for. As I prepared to order my second round the waiter insisted again, “Sex on the Beach for madam, yes?”

By this time, the boys were in stitches laughing at me. They told me to give in but with a strength of will rarely seen I declined and enjoyed another fruit juice. Later when we arrived at the party everybody tried to give drinks and was shocked to hear that I was only sipping on glasses of Pepsi.

So now I turn to you, dear friends and readers, am I such a lush? Do you all think me incapable of going a day without drinking an alcoholic beverage?

On second thought… please don’t answer that.

Drinking is Bad

I don’t want to elaborate a lot on this one. Children: don’t ever, ever drink alcohol. It is very bad.

Now if you’ll excuse me I need to go lie down again because the room is spinning and I seem to feel slightly seasick. I just wish I were at sea and not sitting on the couch…

Alcohol is BAD.

PS It is way to bloody cold in this country!

Birthday Wishes

I want to wish the happiest BDay to our friend the Duke!

Have a great year!!

Typ0’s Internal Dialogue

In a not completely unshocking turn of events my package from Amazon *still* hasn’t been delivered. To remind those of you who are new or have forgotten, I placed my order well over a month ago. I am not frustrated. I’m not angry. I’m not even bitter. (Ok those last three sentences may have been lies. But I’m trying to subdue the emotions so I still get credit.) In any case, I’m not blaming this on India (whom we all know still has it out for me!) and am trying to take this in stride. I’m learning patience. (Ok that last part was a lie. But I’m trying!)

My lack of books and DVDs, of course, is the good news. (Darn sarcasm gene just won’t take a break!)

Due to the fact that the mail service in India is *slighly* unreliable (by which I mean that it’s a big, non-working joke) Hubby and I will be unable to send out Christmas cards this year. We realize that we’ve never bothered… had time… Darn it, there is no way to gloss over our cardless past. At least this year we have a semi-good excuse. And we feel bad about it. (Sort of. )

Anyways, that was the bad news.

So as not to end this on a typical Typ0-is-being-a-sacrcastic-git note I’ve come up with more good(ish) news. I've even decided to turn off my internal dialogue of sarcasm for an entire pargraph. (Yup! We went with an external dialogue of sarcasm instead.)

The even better news is that “Becker” wasn’t on this week. Is this just a temporary reprieve because I am being rewarded by the Higher Powers for not being too, too bitter about my lack of package from Amazon? Is the evil demon of bad acting that is “Becker” doomed to return next week when the Powers realize that I really am bitter? The sad truth is that I don’t know. I’m just willing to grasp onto this sweet joy of the “Becker”-free week.

Damn It’s Cold!

I live in New Delhi, India. I live in a country known for being wickedly hot. That said: I am so freaking cold right now it’s not even funny! Nobody told me that India was cold. I didn’t plan for shivering weather.

It’s warm enough during the day that a light, if long sleeved shirt, keeps me nice and warm and toasty. Right now; however, it is almost seven in the evening and I’m sitting in my living room trembling from the chill. My feet are encased in slippers and I’ve wrapped a wool shawl around my shoulders to ward off the worst of the cold.

I brought a few sweaters but I figured that they would be for those times that we visited Canada or the US during the winter. You know: went to a cold country during a cold season. Not for wearing in late November in India.

Fine, I admit that I may be overstating the cold a *tiny* bit. But I’m in India for Pete’s sake! It’s supposed to warm. Most people here seem to have small space heaters for their homes: one for the living room and sometimes one in their bedroom. But I refuse to give in and buy a space heater. I don’t live in a cold country so I don’t need help keeping warm. My shivering will do just fine, thank you!

Vous n’m’avez jamais vue

I attended a live mini-concert recently that reminded me how much I enjoyed the music of Edith Piaf.

Milord

Allez, venez, Milord!
Vous asseoir à ma table;
Il fait si froid, dehors,
Ici c'est confortable.
Laissez-vous faire, Milord
Et prenez bien vos aises,
Vos peines sur mon coeur
Et vos pieds sur une chaise
Je vous connais, Milord,
Vous n'm'avez jamais vue
Je ne suis qu'une fille du port,
Qu'une ombre de la rue...
Pourtant j'vous ai frôlé
Quand vous passiez hier,
Vous n'étiez pas peu fier,
Dame! Le ciel vous comblait:
Votre foulard de soie
Flottant sur vos épaules,
Vous aviez le beau rôle,
On aurait dit le roi...
Vous marchiez en vainqueur
Au bras d'une demoiselle
Mon Dieu!... Qu'elle était belle...
J'en ai froid dans le coeur...

Allez, venez, Milord!
Vous asseoir à ma table;
Il fait si froid, dehors,
Ici c'est confortable.
Laissez-vous faire, Milord,
Et prenez bien vos aises,
Vos peines sur mon coeur
Et vos pieds sur une chaise
Je vous connais, Milord,
Vous n'm'avez jamais vue
Je ne suis qu'une fille du port
Qu'une ombre de la rue...

Dire qu'il suffit parfois
Qu'il y ait un navire
Pour que tout se déchire
Quand le navire s'en va...
Il emmenait avec lui
La douce aux yeux si tendres
Qui n'a pas su comprendre
Qu'elle brisait votre vie
L'amour, ça fait pleurer
Comme quoi l'existence
Ça vous donne toutes les chances
Pour les reprendre après...

Allez, venez, Milord!
Vous avez l'air d'un môme!
Laissez-vous faire, Milord,
Venez dans mon royaume:
Je soigne les remords,
Je chante la romance,
Je chante les milords
Qui n'ont pas eu de chance!
Regardez-moi, Milord,
Vous n'm'avez jamais vue...
...Mais... vous pleurez, Milord?
Ça... j'l'aurais jamais cru!...

Eh ben, voyons, Milord!
Souriez-moi, Milord!
...Mieux qu' ça! Un petit effort...
Voilà, c'est ça!
Allez, riez, Milord!
Allez, chantez, Milord!
La-la-la...

Mais oui, dansez, Milord!
La-la-la... Bravo Milord!
La-la-la... Encore Milord!... La-la-la...

(I apologize for the lack of correct accents. They didn't translate well into Foxfire.)

I am so embarrassed

My pride in being a Canuck is rivaled only by my pride of being Mrs. Hubby. He may not be a Canuck but he is wonderful. I hum my anthem in French and eat poutine with zeal. I prefer Harvey's over Burger King and Blue over Bud. I am Canadian!

Today; however, I was forced to step back and blush along with those from my strong maple leaf bedecked land who retain their sanity. (I was going to say the sober ones but that would only leave me with 10 people this upped it to at least 16.) In a sadly public venue one of Canada's former Defence Ministers went off the really, really deep end.

I think that my favourite part of the article was this little gem of a quote:

Mr. Hellyer went on to say, "I'm so concerned about what the consequences might be of starting an intergalactic war, that I just think I had to say something."

My people stand strong today knowing that our former leaders are trying desperately to keep us safe from ET.

Yankee Turkey Day

Happy Thanksgiving to all of our friends and family back in the States!!

Shopping: Delhi Expat Style

Expats in Delhi seem to be a breed unto themselves. Or at least the ones I’ve met thus far. As far as I can tell, Hubby and I are some of the most normal people in Delhi. How scary is that?

The Delhi Network is one case in point. I went to the monthly meeting last week and received the monthly newsletter. One of the topics in the newsletter was advice on buying and cleaning your gems. Yup I said gems. I immediately pointed out how utterly ridiculous this was. Everybody looked at me like I had two heads and spiky horns. They thought I was nuts and told me that buying gems was good way to spend a few hours and that if I hadn’t done it yet then I was a freak. Ok they didn’t say the last part but it was definitely implied.

I’m sorry but I don’t own “gems.” I certainly don’t go out looking for the perfect emerald and deciding on the ideal setting for it and the matching diamonds that I got a steal from the same gem merchant. Go figure but I’m more normal than that. That said I’m willing to become less normal and join the gem buying revolution.

Assuming of course that Hubby doesn’t kill me first.

Wandering the World

By now you’ve probably noticed that we’ve been wandering Delhi more than the world. I promised more than that in the blog title and I want to deliver the goods to you my faithful readers. Here’s the problem though: I’m stuck in Delhi whilst Hubby wanders throughout the globe.

Hubby’s Travels in 2005
USA
Scotland
India
Canada
Sri Lanka
Pakistan
Kenya
Dubai
Mauritius

Typ0’s Travels in 2005
USA
Scotland
India
Canada
Sri Lanka
Dubai
Mauritius

Ok the last two are later in the year but you get the picture. I’m stuck at home while Cutie Pie racks up those frequent flier miles and sees just how cool a world we live in.

So here’s my plan: in 2006 I’m going to get my travel on! I’m going to become Hubby’s cuter (chubbier) shadow and join him on some of his cooler ventures into the global community. Then I’m going to return here and share the dirt with you!

What do you think of the plan? Too ambitious? Too tacky? I know it’s going to be too expensive. But these are the sacrifices I’m willing to make for you, Reader. You’re that important to me. (Or something.)

The Great Knitting Wonder

The knitting business is starting to pick up. No, I don’t have a business. And no, I still knit so slowly that turtles are starting to challenge me to races. But my lack of skills… err… fame is starting to become well known here in Delhi. Scary huh?

Every Friday I go to my knitting group out in Gurgaun where this week I finally finished the scarf I gave Hubby for Christmas ’04. It will now be his birthday gift. =P My Thursday knitting group is currently on hiatus until the new year since everybody is super busy with things that that don’t involve me. (How rude!)

Later this week I will be conducting not one but two knitting workshops. Yup, for reasons that defy logic people have asked me to teach them to knit. Me who invented her own cast on. Me pretty much invented her own knit stitch. (Rumor has it that it’s either a purl or a backward knit. Ooops!) But who am I to say no to willing students.

I’m even thinking that I may start my own weekly knitting group. The Goddess Typ0’s Knitting group. It has a certain ring to it, don’t you think? Well, we can work on a name later. =)

Happy Knitting!!

Is it Supposed to Hurt?

My move to Delhi has warranted many firsts. My first time living in a developing country. My first time making Gold Status with an airline’s frequent flier program. My first time having curtains made and hung to order for my home. On Saturday I added another first to that list: my first ever massage.

Earlier this year I discovered the bliss of the facial. For you boys reading basically a facial is me paying somebody to buff, moisturize and mold my face. Done right it should also include at minimum an arm massage and leave you wishing you could spend the rest of your life with your facialist. I always left my facial looking, and more importantly, feeling years younger. (I also always felt the need to shop for frivolous things after a facial. Weird.) The three or four I’ve had were blissful experiences that made me wonder why I waited almost thirty years to enter a spa.

Saturday morning, my friend called me and asked if we were still on for spa day. Sure why not! We arrived at a really nice women’s only spa in Mulcha Marg that was a slice of civilization in the midst of the chaos of Delhi. We initially booked for one facial and one massage: each of would have one or the other. At the last minute my friend suggested we both have massages. Cool! I’ve never had a massage and it sounded like a cool idea. I am a naive little blogger.

Despite my discomfort with the whole “naked” part of the massage I hopped up on the table and put my head on the towels that my masseuse, Evilina, had arranged for me. Then it started: the pain. The agony. The massage.

I’ve always carried my stress in my back. It’s not like my back is doing anything else! So when Evilina began to massage my back it initially felt nice, the way you assume a massage is supposed to feel. But then she started grinding her thumb into my back and I actually cried out in pain. “Too hard? No, you have knot.” I may have had a knot but if she kept that up I soon wouldn’t have a back.

Over the course of the next hour she ground her thumbs into my back, legs and arm muscles. My cries of pain were ignored and treated with looks of disdain. Don’t get me wrong, some of the time it was nice and relaxing. But a lot of the time it hurt.

When we left the spa I asked my friend point blank, “Is a massage supposed to hurt?” She looked worried and said that it wasn’t. Oh. I put the pain my back aside and we left for an enjoyable lunch at a local wine bar. A few glasses of wine later and the sharp pains in my back hadn’t disappeared but I cared less. Even waking up in pain the next morning didn’t deter me from contemplating my spa future.

You see, after much introspection and despite my time in traction I have decided to give it another try. If it wasn’t supposed to hurt it must have been a fluke. I hope.

Harry Potter Mania

So I went to see GOF on Friday night. WOW! Amazing! Spectacular! I know that most of you say that I write in exclamation points and superlatives too often but in this case it’s warranted. The movie was almost everything that I could have hoped for. A 3 star effort for director Mike Newell’s first foray into the world of Harry Potter.

I won’t post plot points here since most of you have either read the books or read other reviews that have already told you the story. Besides, as Hubby puts it the plot of all the HP books is that Lord Voldermort threatens Harry’s life and then Harry has to find a way to survive. Unlike in past forays into the world of HP; however, this time Harry is on his own. When push comes to shove his friends aren’t there next to him.

That was the problem with this movie. In the book his friends help him prepare for that final confrontation by learning and practicing curses, counter curses and the like. In the movie it just sort of happened: Harry doesn’t seem to prepare for any of the competitions at all. In fact, his success in all of them is due to a bit of serendipity and others giving him the answers. Harry has survived to star in six books because he works as part of a team. Buffy didn’t make on her own: the Scooby’s helped her. Harry’s friends are his Scooby gang and this movie minimized the importance of that fact. No wizard is an island, not even the Boy Who Lived.

As a fan geek there are definitely things that are missing that I wish could be put back in. Events and ideas that I feel are key to GOF and the entire HP universe. If you’re fan geek like yours truly, shoot me an email and we’ll debate the missing gold (How will the twins start up their shop now?) Dumbledore’s sudden mean streak (What was with him pushing Harry?) and the lack of important revelations. (Karakoff, half-giants and animangi come to mind.)

Basically this was a great movie. The Weasley twins began to show the spark that will make them part of the greatest scene in the next movie, OOP. And Snape and McGonagal were unexpectedly some of the wittiest characters in the movie, often providing the best physical and verbal humor. Despite the over use of special effects the Harry Potter series is proof that a good story is its own reward. Whether you’re a fan geek like me, or a friend being dragged against their will like Hubby; you’ll enjoy this magical movie.