“Okay Cowlay, here is some reading to catch you up to speed. Should be pretty straightforward. I’ve flagged the sections you should read like this one on Fluid-Fluid Interactions in Geothermal Systems, and here is a short course on Experimental Studies in Model Fluid Systems. I’m sure you remember all your phase diagrams from undergrad, right? If you need to refresh your thermodynamics feel free to borrow any of my physics text books. Probably best to start with this easy stuff before you dive into the more complicated drilling reports.”
Heavy.
“Okay Coolie, here is the local delicacy I was telling you about. Raw smoked lamb haunch. Here, eat more. More! We will eat whale steak tonight also. Yes, and perhaps I can find some rotting shark. We typically eat it around Christmas – traditionally served with the Black Death, a very strong liquor.”
You can't make this stuff up. They eat sheep's face.
I went into the grocery store to find some granola and yoghurt. I don’t know what I bought. The granola was pretty straightforward because I could see through the bags into their contents, but the yoghurt remains a mystery. I bought a jar of something resembling vanilla flavored yoghurt, then ate several mouthfuls and enjoyed it. Now I fear to ask what this delicious paste might actually be. Rotting goat testicles with vanilla extract? Most likely, based on my gastronomic experiences thus far.
Yoghurt? Fingers Crossed...
I’d better grow a pair before I fly to China. No Kashi for five thousand miles.
After taking me to the home of a mentally handicapped girl with chickens, my host family took me to a store that celebrates Christmas year-round. The store always smells like Chirstmas, sells Christmas themed trinkets, candies, and gifts, and constantly plays mind-numbing Christmas music. A grinning bearish man punched a fistful of smoked lamb haunch into my mouth as I entered. In the basement I found a barely-comprehensible pamphlet describing Iceland’s Christmas traditions. They have thirteen Santa Clauses here, all born from a giant ogre mother (featured above) who boils children and eats them, especially around the holidays. The Santas, with names like “Bowl Licker” and “Sausage Swiper,” generally revel in daily youngster maulings. The thirteen Santas lighten up around the holidays and give savage beatings with about the same frequency as kind gifts and playful trickery (like igniting your long underwear while you sleep - tee hee hee, how playful!)
Raw Smoked Lamb:
After eating so much free lamb haunch, candied almond, and toffee, I felt obliged to buy a bottle that someone squirted molten candy cane into. Apparently I can fill it with vodka later to make peppermint schnapps, which I will swill urgently when Santa Claus comes to savage me late at night.
All I know is that I’m getting the hell out of here before Christmas.
Here's an article that makes me sound really self absorbed: Middlebury Campus Please Enjoy!
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