we went to dahlak, an ethiopian place, for dinner. the communal food dish was almost as large as the table, and highly reminiscent of the plastic basins that hang from hooks in void deck mama shops, down to its particular shade of blue. the curries were excellent, but, as always, not spicy enough. there was too much injera; also, it has a way of just sitting in ones stomach rude and unmoving. i suppose there is a demand in african countries for food that keeps one full. (reminded of -- q: what does a somali do with a bowl of rice? a: open a minimart)

ewa, who was with us, had just returned from poland the night before -- we agreed unanimously that her break had been the most fun, having featured pub-crawling through dublin on new year's eve. she's one of a few people doing the grad student apartment shuffle, moving across over the other side of clark park (great view), and has no furniture, so we adjourned to the hangout house and tried to be an impromptu salvation army. (net collection: one mattress, and a table broken in half; it's the thought that counts.) and then there was coffee cake, and coffee, and apocryphal stories of people who went insane in the third year of the program under their committee's unrelenting whip.