Sleepy Suffolk

Last night, I took Laurine out to dinner, for her 20^th birthday, to Passage to India an Indian restaurant - as one might guess from its name - I'd been to a year or so ago with work colleagues.

If British food barely qualifies as filling aliment, The Brits have made up for it by importing Indian cuisine, a wonderful mixtures of spices and aromas melting away in your mouth. But, if you're not careful or reasonable, giving you an upset stomach the following day. By this, I'm paying tribute to my very stomach-sensitive brother who's had a hard time living up to Indian Spicy Food Standards.

It was Laurine's first time at an Indian restaurant and she settled for a mild dish of Lamb Bhuna, richly simmering in a creamy coconut sauce and coming with pilau rice. As for myself I wanted to play tough guy and have a Madras dish, but the waiter (very helpful) recommended I bank for a Nogu (sorry if I've just slaughtered Indian cuisine names). It was simply scrumptious.

After a couple of papadoms (spelling?), our main courses arrived, sizzling in their sauces, and accompanied by delicious rice. We dug in happily savouring every last bit whilst sipping on a fresh pint of Indian beerm a KingFisher.

As the evening dwindled down, we eventually made our way back home, in a wind-blowing bitter cold that cut through our coats all the way to our bones. Luckily the heater was turned on in my room and we let its warmth seep back into our bodies.

The night was short as Andreas and I had to take an early train out to London for a 2-day business trip.

After having spent all day long in Ipswich trying to sort bank and NI problems out, Diana, a Peruvian friend, took me out to a "Spanish" party or rather dinner.

Diana, her roommate Marcello (or flatmate as the Brits would put it) and I walked down to Alejandro's house on Spring Rd, a couple yards away from a masive stone bridge that overlooks the street and houses below. Alejandro's house is like nearly all the houses in Ipswich: a small front yard, a small backyard, a rather narrow facade hiding a deep home behind, similar to the old houses in Charleston, SC - in terms of shape that is. The interior seems all brand new and has been refurbished rather skillfully.

Alejandro is an Argentinian working like the rest of us for the local Telecommunications company. I'd met him in Portugal back in May when he'd joined some friends visiting me. He speaks Argentinian Spanish which is an odd spiced-up version of castellano. His eyes always seem to twinkle and it's easy to strike up a good and funny conversation with him: lively bloke!

If it hadn't been for Mark, Marcello, and Mathias, it would've been an entire Spanish-speaking community gathering together to share a paella cooked up by Nerea. The latter moved from Valladolid, Spain to rain-kissed Ipswich to work as a nurse at the local hospital. It seems to be a general trend among the Spanish community here in Ipswich.

The party wound calmly down to nearly one in the morning and Marcello, Diana, and I left for home.