Can you believe this is Africa? It's Swakopmund in Namibia, but it looks like Germany.
Now this looks like Africa - the dunes of the Namib desert, near Sossusvlei.
More beautiful dunes. Very English Patient.
Thursday, November 8, 2007
Picturebook...A Holiday in August
I still haven't downloaded any Africa photos, for fear of causing my laptop to spontaneously combust. But, I just got some pics from a friend I met during my Namibia journey. Here are a few...with the promise to actually put together photos of all my travels:
Can you believe this is Africa? It's Swakopmund in Namibia, but it looks like Germany.
Now this looks like Africa - the dunes of the Namib desert, near Sossusvlei.
More beautiful dunes. Very English Patient.
Can you believe this is Africa? It's Swakopmund in Namibia, but it looks like Germany.
Now this looks like Africa - the dunes of the Namib desert, near Sossusvlei.
More beautiful dunes. Very English Patient.
Tuesday, November 6, 2007
Welcome to the Old Apartment
So after much ado, I finally have an apartment. I signed the lease and I move in on Tuesday -- assuming the movers ever call me back. (Seriously, the only thing harder to find than a good apartment is a reliable mover.)
Anyway, I'm actually moving back into my old Adams Morgan/Kalorama Triangle neighborhood. Well, to be more specific, I'm moving back into the same apartment building that I lived in during law school. The apartments there were so nice, and I loved the street. (I stumbled upon it one evening right before I started law school when I was driving around checking out DC neighborhoods, and then by major coincidence, a few days later I happened upon a roommate posting of someone living on that street.)
So, in the midst of my apartment frustration, I came across an ad for a one bedroom apartment in the same building -- just one floor up. And the rest, as they say, is history. Really boring history, but history nonetheless.
Of course, this time around I'm paying way more than I paid in law school for the apartment. Rent control. It's a beautiful thing sometimes. There's a woman in the building who has been there since I first moved in 1997. (She wasn't too fond of the parties I used to have, which is hard to understand -- who wouldn't love The Petite Soiree?) Apparently, as I just learned, she's been in the building since 1971. Thanks to rent control, she now pays only $700 for a 1500 sq. ft. gorgeous apartment in a great building. These are the stories that I would hear about in NY or see on Friends, but didn't actually believe.
That could be me in 30 years. Except, I wouldn't mind if the young neighbor downstairs threw a Petite Soiree. So long as I was invited.
Anyway, I'm actually moving back into my old Adams Morgan/Kalorama Triangle neighborhood. Well, to be more specific, I'm moving back into the same apartment building that I lived in during law school. The apartments there were so nice, and I loved the street. (I stumbled upon it one evening right before I started law school when I was driving around checking out DC neighborhoods, and then by major coincidence, a few days later I happened upon a roommate posting of someone living on that street.)
So, in the midst of my apartment frustration, I came across an ad for a one bedroom apartment in the same building -- just one floor up. And the rest, as they say, is history. Really boring history, but history nonetheless.
Of course, this time around I'm paying way more than I paid in law school for the apartment. Rent control. It's a beautiful thing sometimes. There's a woman in the building who has been there since I first moved in 1997. (She wasn't too fond of the parties I used to have, which is hard to understand -- who wouldn't love The Petite Soiree?) Apparently, as I just learned, she's been in the building since 1971. Thanks to rent control, she now pays only $700 for a 1500 sq. ft. gorgeous apartment in a great building. These are the stories that I would hear about in NY or see on Friends, but didn't actually believe.
That could be me in 30 years. Except, I wouldn't mind if the young neighbor downstairs threw a Petite Soiree. So long as I was invited.
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