AV, who supplied the great photos of the lamb being gutted for Eid in Morocco, is back in Moorish lands and maintaining a blog. Who am I to judge, but I suspect it might be one of those grad-school dissertation-procrastination tools. Anyway, expect good food tidbits and attention to detail: Here’s the link.

What else? Arrest warrant has been filed for one Christopher Dunivan, the little psychopath who made off with my laptop and, more important, emails and addresses from the past five years. Anyone I’ve emailed in the last two months, I’ve got your details–but anyone prior to that, please get in touch. (Linda Jeng, are you still in Paris?)

Burning Man was fun; solar cooking was underwhelming. More details and photos in a bit.

And _it happened again_: Peter and I are sitting in the Frenchie bistro here in Astoria, eyeing his plate of duck. We collectively agree that it’s wiser _not_ to stuff ourselves, and instead take the duck home as leftovers. The waitress clears our plates, Peter says, “We’ll take that home, please,” and then there’s that way-too-long interlude. Why, why didn’t I learn my lesson from Spice Market?

Back to Amsterdam tonight, followed by a spell in Geneva, to visit Chris, Juan and wee Estela (the charmer who was so entranced by the belly dancer at our wedding). I’m sure she’ll have no memory of who I am, but maybe she’ll have some new dance moves…