My first 'pang' of homesickness came last night. I have never claimed to be a cook. In fact, I claim to be a god awful cook. At home, my family don't even bother asking me because they'd rather spare their own lives. However, one dish I am well accustomed with, is pasta and pesto. Cook the pasta, mix in the pesto and ta da! Tasty and nutritious (well, kind of). So on I went, sauntering around my little stove, ignoring the sizzling sound of the metal on the electric hob. The pasta was cooked to an edible degree, I poured out the water... with a bit of difficulty as I realised I had no colander... put the tea towel to one side, and went ahead spooning in the pesto. This is when I started to smell burning. 'The hob is off so it's not me', was my first thought. However, unlike my stove at home (gas) where once it's off it is off, here, the hob needs time to cool down. So when I had carelessly thrown my tea towel to the side, I had actually sent it into the heat of the stove, and caused it to set a light.
I literally set my tea towel on fire.
Thankfully, no alarms went off. I'm pretty sure I don't even have a smoke alarm, so despite the chances of me inhaling smoke in my sleep being a bit higher, this is a blessing in disguise for the rest of the apartments, because if I did have one, it would be going off all the time.
To continue my disastrous dining experience, I went about my way (tea towel in sink of course), continuing to mix in the pesto. I settled down with my bowl of delicious carb-y goodness, pressed play on the film I had paused... and on the first spoonful, spat it out and ran to brush my teeth to get rid of the taste. I am not sure if it was the suspicious sizzling noise my pan secretly tinting the taste of the pasta, or the pesto itself. But I can honestly say, it was one of the most vile things I have ever eaten. And I was fed horse today at lunch (a whole other story). Due to my refusal to finish, or even start, my pasta, I chucked it in the bin and decided to put my little bit of Italian to the test. Grabbing my purse and keys, I headed for the Pizza take away place just down the road. As I approached it, I noticed it was absolutely full. Students, adults, children, everyone seemed to think Popeye's Pizza was the place to be. So I approached cautiously, looked at the vast amounts of people, debated how much Italian I really knew, and whether I wanted to embarrass myself this much. And walked straight out. 110 Steps up to my apartment and 10 minutes later, I was on my bed, eating a cheese and mayo sandwich.
I said when I first came out here, I would either turn into Carrie from SITC or Bridget Jones.
Guess we all know which I am now...
Ciao for Now!