Karen Rogers

Sprouts' Summer Camps ... A Success!

noreply@blogger.com (Karen Rogers) — Thu, 12 Aug 2010 17:20:00 +0000

Sprouts is a culinary program based in the East Bay and expanding into Northern California that teaches children from all socio-economic backgrounds how to cook, hands-on, with REAL chefs using REAL ingredients, inside REAL kitchens whenever possible.

The kids learned how to make deep-dish pizzas with fresh ingredients at one of the most popular pizza shops in Northern California: Zachary's Pizza

All of our classes are hands-on.

Lauren Hopfenbeck was the camp manager this summer. She ran every day of the camp, insomuch that I didn't even have to come most days. She had 6-9 camp counselors helping her out each day, 1 from Paris, 2 from Nancy, and 1 from Morocco. The rest were high school students and UC Berkeley students.

Cooking in the kitchens of Cafe Fanny, Alice Waters' cafe which is named after her daughter.

Sprouts takes on two new managers !

noreply@blogger.com (Karen Rogers) — Thu, 12 Aug 2010 17:04:00 +0000

Lauren Hopfenbeck and Cassie Fairfield are signing on with Sprouts as full-time employees ! We are expanding Sprouts to all of Northern California in a three-tiered partnership with Kaiser Permanente and Whole Foods. The project, called NorCal Kitchens, will hold classes right at the Whole Foods' kitchens, and offer affordable cooking classes for the community as well as Kaiser Permanente employees. Sprouts is ... sprouting. We now have an office space at Kaiser Permanente, workers' compensation, a new website in the mix ... heck, even a lemonade stand at the farmers market right next to Chez Panisse! Oh, and did I mention, a business student flying in from Paris to work for us for 9 months ...

These pictures were taken in Sprouts' new, organic garden which is headed by Ben Eichorn, head gardener of Alice Waters' Edible Schoolyard. A team of 14 garden interns help maintain the garden under Cassie and Bens' guidance.

noreply@blogger.com (Karen Rogers) — Wed, 02 Sep 2009 08:43:00 +0000

Madalyn and Noah are FAMOUS!

noreply@blogger.com (Karen Rogers) — Mon, 03 Aug 2009 07:35:00 +0000

日本

noreply@blogger.com (Karen Rogers) — Fri, 03 Apr 2009 07:22:00 +0000

So - yeah - that brown, slimy thing ... I ate that. And it was definitely alive and pulsing on the plate ... I just want to say that I had NO intention of putting that anywhere near my mouth. But, well, I did, and let`s just say this has been my most intense culinary feat thus far.
(older, middle-aged Japanese women, by the way, are a fiesty age group!)

The juxtaposition of a Geisha at a Starbucks ... globalization at its best.
Noto-hanto peninsula. Talk about a scenic drive ... this main thoroughfare is actually right on the beach! You can see the traffic sign to the right.

A friend of mine is actually a Kimono teacher - she has gone to a Kimono school for three years, but still has hundreds of knots still to learn ... In any case, she asked that I model one of her Kimonos for her class. Lucky me!

The Masta! This is the owner of the restaurant where I work.

A port in Kanazawa - an eastern city. Depending on the catch and the season, fishermen will take their boats out in the early morning or the middle of the night. To the left you can see a warehouse where you can pick up fish fresh from that night`s catch ...

The Japanese LOVE their toe socks! The fashion trend actually stems from the traditional socks worn with a Kimono. To stay warm in their sandles, women wore (and still do) socks with a camel-toe. (Ironically a huge fashion no-no in Western culture) In any case, this style has become very popular among Japanese designers catering to the funky, youth styles and formal, business attire. (In fact, the owner of the Miso plant I toured was even sporting toe socks!)

The Japanese are an interesting folk. As they come into the restaurant, I can tell they are all a little curious. After all, there aren`t too many foreigners working, especially with the economy as it is. As soon as they go through the first pitcher of beer, however, not only do their faces light up (literally) but their true personalities quickly surface. While this group is a younger crowd, the big groups of business men are just as extroverted. It just takes a shot of Sake until they start reciting cliché English phrases, taking pictures, and raving about my Japanese (I always find this compliment the most hilarious considering my Japanese is obviously not good at this point).

This pose on the right was incited by a diner`s indignation after I asked him if he goes to the gym - Of course not! How could I even ask - he is a Kendo fighter! A gym is out of the question.

While the Japanese smoke quite a bit, you will never see a smoke butt on the sidewalk or lying in the grass. Not only do men and women alike stop to smoke at the many designating areas in town, but smokers actually carrry aluminum-lined, cigarrette pouches designed to safely store used butts .. One of the thousands of reasons that Japan is one of the cleanest countries in the world ...

Which reminds me ...

You know how you lick your fingers before leafing through a wad of bills or a stack of papers? Not the Japanese; at the grocery store check-out they have a finger-wetter pad. A quick swipe will leave the cashier`s finger just moist enough to quickly count your money.

One of my first dinners at my apartment. In fact, this was a language exchange dinner that I did with two Japanese friends of mine that speak English. I speak in Japanese while they speak respond in English. (Instead of taking Japanese courses, I am studying from textbooks and organizing language exchanges.) In any case, it develops into quite an interesting experience. Actually, it`s surprising how many people have asked me to help them with their French ... the French culture is highly esteemed here.

I`m here to learn the language - that`s really why I chose to work on my thesis here in Japan. I literally spend hours every day going over vocabulary, reading grammar rules, and copying notes. People must think I am crazy because I carry a notebook with me wherever I go and have no shame in taking a quick break from the conversation to write down a word that I didn`t know ... (I think this means I am a true dork ...)

These Soba noodles are a traditional food of the straw-roof town, Hida Shirakawago. In Japan not only is it socially acceptable to lean over your noodles and slurp them into your mouth, but it is actually expected that you do so. While the family that I was with offered me personal training on the technique, I was quickly deemed a ` slurping faliure.`

These homes are part of the UNESCO world heritage sites, but people actually still inhabit the town, living in the centuries-old homes. The wooden cabins are famous for their thatched room and three-level lay-out. The first level was used for ther horses and general living - the tea room, kitchen, and work space were all on the first floor. I was surprised that the horses shared the living space with the family, but it is so cold in the region that the heat from the animals played an integral part in generating warmth. In any case, the family slept on the 2nd floor while, in the attic, silk worms were kept. When we climbed up to the third floor, all of the wooden beams were charred black, stained by the fire that was kept going below. This is an important detail because it was the smoke that kept insects away from the silk production ...

Hanami! The Hanami, or Cherry Blossom festivals, is a huge national celebration in Japan. Couples, groups of friends, and business associates all gather together under the blooming Cherry trees to drink O-sake (sake) and various Japanese dishes ...

The Noto -hanto peninsula on the east coast of Japan ...

The owner of a Miso factory invited me and a professor on a tour of the plant - not only did it smell delicious (a mix between French cheeses and sea salt) but it was really intriguing process. Miso is a simple, but time-consuming art (and yes, it`s quite the art) that sustains the base of the Japanese diet. Just soy bean, mold-covered rice, and salt - the trio of ingredients is kept in huge barrels for months before its ready. If you have taste it before that, the salt will overwhelm any other flavors. I didn`t realize how involved the politics and pricing behind Miso is, however. Some companies get their soyboeans from the States while others prefer locally-grown. And in addition to sourcing, the value of the Miso fluctuates in respect to the amount of time the soybeans are allowed to ferment. Then of course, there is the actual fermentation that continues once you buy a jar - with new molds constantly deepening the color as it sits in the refrigerator.

Working at Rakutei, an incredibly quaint, traditional Japanese restaurant.

Yes - it`s true - in Japan you can eat raw chicken without risking salmonella poisoning! I imagined a slimy, chewy texture- but I couldn`t have been more pleasantly surprised. It is delicious - with a much smoother finish than cooked chicken. In fact, it had a much smokier, cooked flavor than i expected, although, that could just be how they prepared the outside of the cut.

This is a Kimono of my friend, Namiko. Her grandmother sewed it by hand, and since then it was passed from mother to daughter ... The floral belt that I am wearing was actually a gift from a Geisha, a close friend and neighbor of Namiko`s family.

Namiko and I are getting ready to pass an afternoon in the Geisha district. We went to a traditional Geisha house (where Geisha still today enterntain their guests) for tea and `anko`pastries, a red-bean delicacy. Red bean paste is one of my favorite parts about Asian cuisine. The macha, however, is a close rival. This is traditional green tea that is made from a powder. It is always accompagnied by pastries to compliment its bitter flavor. Besides the fact that the green powder base creates a swampy allure, it has a smooth, delicious finish. Plus, you feel like a million bucks afterwards - Macha has more caffeine than coffee.

This is Namiko and `Tattoo`- two good friends that I met here. While men wear Kimonos as well, it is a much simpler version. (And while women have to wear these strange toe-socks with glorified flip-flops, they get to slip on vintage clogs!)

It took an hour to put on the Kimono - the knots, the folds, the layers - can be pretty overhwelming ... Even though Namiko went to school to learn the art of Kimono wearing, she still had a tough time dressing me.

The Japanese are crazy about the French, insomuch that not only are there dozens of refined, French boutiques and restaurants, but there is even a restaurant that albeit their traditional Japanese menu, prints their menu and signage in French! I coiuldn`t help taking a picture ... It would be just as crazy if Chez Panisse started writing their menus in Italian ...

Guatemala and Mexico

noreply@blogger.com (Karen Rogers) — Wed, 28 Jan 2009 06:21:00 +0000

China

noreply@blogger.com (Karen Rogers) — Mon, 13 Oct 2008 13:08:00 +0000

Cyril! Et voila a picture!

Cyril and I stayed in Shanghai with a friend of his who owns a few flower shops in the city. (This guy was obsessed with scents! He smelled everything and even had a book on odors on his bedstand!) This is a picture after we are coming back from a nighttime tour of Shanghai. The baker was getting ready to make red bean pastries - and let us sample the paste. (YUM!) My favorite flavor, however, was green pea. It wasn't uncommon to find pastries, popsicles, and beverages with a green pea twist.

In the States we go for what's "chic," "sexy," and "stylish." In China? No way! - "Cutsie" is in. The girls don cotton tees featuring cartoon characters, adorn their hair with plastic clips boasting bold, bright colors and flash the "peace" sign for every snapshot taken. This picture really encapsulates the quintessence of the "cutsie" movement. I almost started laughing when my host family picked me up in their "Hello Kitty" car which was not only painted yellow on the exterior, but replete with "Hello Kitty" seat covers, cup holders, and stuffed animals. The car on the left is no exception to this cartoon craze. When I hopped in the back, I found myself sharing the seat with a life-size teddy bear. The dashboard completed the theme as a dancing bear swayed to the rythm of the traffic.

I love the grocery stores in China! I don't know what fascinates me more - the 100 year-old eggs in the poultry section or the beef jerky wrapped up in shiny packaging as though it were a caramel. I felt like I was at the Atlanta Aquarium with Hailey and Brooks as I snapped pictures of swimming eels, glistening seaweed and live turtles ... It was quite the sensory overload ... Too bad Leigh wasn't there with the hand sanitizer!

Let's just say - this particular meal didn't win 'most savory' of the trip.

Here, Olivia is going through a fire "detoxification," widespread practice throughout Asia and the Middle East. In the painless procedure, a cotton ball is lit, the flaming ball is thrown into a jar, and then the open end of the jar is quickly applied directly to the back. Starved for oxygen, the flame is immediately extinguished, but in the process creates a vacuum that causes skin on the patient’s back to inflate. Although painless, the procedure leaves serious red marks that last for weeks afterwards.

While in China, I stayed a night with a family friend of Yin, who happened to be the director of Chengdu's hospital. Taking me to work with her the next day, she led me into the acupuncture lab for a special needle and fire-detoxification session. As I arrived at the main room, I passed about a dozen patients waiting outside on benches- all had needles protruding from their ears, cheekbones, or neck. It was a rather gory experience. Though I was lucky to get treated right away, I still had a moment or two to chat with one of the acupuncture patients while Yin served as translator.

Mango steam - a delicious Chinese fruit. They were in season during my trip.
Here I am with the jars stuck to my back. It’s a common sight to see people walking around in the streets with the conspicuous bruises from these inexpensive and widespread “detoxs.” For the common cold, it is the preferred method of treatment.
Olivia and I overlapped by 4 days - so she was able to pick me up from the airport and I accompagnied her to the terminal when she left.

Towards the end of the trip, Yin and I made a visit to her grandmother's house in the military compounds. We were driven to her apartment by a military chauffeur. What I didn't realize, however is that military personnel are not obliged to follow traffic laws. I soon learned first hand the full extent of this exemption.

We had just merged onto a busy, three-lane highway going between towns. It's China - so there is always traffic. Trucks barreled down the highway, cars swerved between lanes, and motorcyclists weaved through the congestion. We easily blended in with the general forward-moving mass as our driver occasionally blared the horn as a vehicle cut in front of him, or bumped the rear of his car. Yin and I were talking casually in the back seat, when suddenly the driver slammed on his brakes. He had missed the exit. Next I found myself in one of the most surreal and frightening situations I have ever experienced.

As traffic careened around us, our vehicle was at a standstill in the middle of the highway. In all the congested traffic, cars had barely a couple of seconds to see us, let alone react and find space to swerve to avoid hitting our car. I watched terrified, as cars barreled down our lane, blaring their horns and swerving just feet away from the rear of our car. We must have sat there for 3 minutes (which is a heck of a long time to be wonder about your chances of survival) before, (thank heavens!), there was a 10 second break in the traffic. The chauffeur put the car in reverse (may I remind you this is on a three-lane highway) and backed up the one hundred meters to the missed exit.

Back on track, Yin's grandmother continued telling her story, and the chauffeur nodded calmly in response.

noreply@blogger.com (Karen Rogers) — Tue, 05 Aug 2008 07:06:00 +0000

Des cuisses de grenouilles

noreply@blogger.com (Karen Rogers) — Wed, 23 Jul 2008 09:33:00 +0000

On Sunday night I cooked frog legs with Vanick and some other friends. Fresh from China Town and seasoned to perfection. Mmmm.

Chez Panisse, The Cheeseboard, and Culinary 'Jamming' Sessions

noreply@blogger.com (Karen Rogers) — Tue, 22 Jul 2008 05:25:00 +0000

At the Cheeseboard, the most 'happening' pizza place and bakery in the Bay Area, we tasted Buffalo Cheese and checked out their walk-in ovens!

Chez Panisse handles all their own meats - beginning by preparing the entire animal, separating the desired cuts from the bone and even grinding their own beef, as can be seen from the photo. 'Down Time' while the cake is baking ...

Sajdah savoring our Moelleux au chocolate, the French version of a chocolate cake. Often flourless.

Alice Waters at our visit to Chez Panisse.

Who would have guessed that fire would silence even the most unruly campers...
Preparing peanut butter balls ...
The kitchen at Chez Panisse. Chez Panisse is divided into two parts - the upstairs Café and the downstairs fixed menu. Both, however, use the same main kitchen. In the morning, the upstairs crews prepares their dishes while the downstair crew comes in during the afternoon and begins their own preparations.

Culinary Kids

noreply@blogger.com (Karen Rogers) — Tue, 15 Jul 2008 09:05:00 +0000

España: Corrida de Toros

noreply@blogger.com (Karen Rogers) — Fri, 04 Jul 2008 21:13:00 +0000

noreply@blogger.com (Karen Rogers) — Thu, 26 Jun 2008 15:01:00 +0000

Paris

noreply@blogger.com (Karen Rogers) — Fri, 13 Jun 2008 08:31:00 +0000

I was snooping around the cupboards of Cyril's restaurant when I made an exciting discovery ... the biggest jar of Nutella that I have ever seen! It was time for dessert, anyway ...

Where Cyril grew up in the suburbia of Paris (Actually - he's in the corner carrying a neighborhood kid on his shoulders) The property is beautiful - and this estate, specifically, has a unique charm - replete with a tunnel that leads to the cathedral across the street! (shown in the picture above)
Holding my favorite dish of all time - Boudin. In English: Blood Sausage. (Despite my sincere attempts at introducing Ryan and Ann to this Parisian delicacy, they share a much less favorable impression this coagulated blood dish).

Margot, who holding the Boudin with me, is a good friend of mine from Paris. She is actually going to be flying out to California this summer to help me with both sessions of Culinary Kids - throughout all of July. If I bring Culinary Kids to Paris next summer, she will be working with me to develop the program in France.

At a neighborhood party that Cyril's parents hosted. For me - it meant yet another undefeated streak of ping pong (; (I am convinced it is my intimidating "squatting" stance that facilitates my victory)

Chez Panisse

noreply@blogger.com (Karen Rogers) — Sun, 09 Mar 2008 08:14:00 +0000

Alice and me at Foreign Cinema in San Francisco. I just finished my internship as her assistant, and am now in Paris for the next 4 months working for Ernst and Young. My brief tenure at Chez Panisse was really great - at times it could get really intense in both the office and the kitchen, however, and whether or not you were involved in the action ... you could feel the tension. A lot of fun people work there. Really, a one-of-a-kind experience.

Israel, Palestine, Jordan

noreply@blogger.com (Karen Rogers) — Wed, 09 Jan 2008 15:32:00 +0000

Breakfast: Fresh pomegranate juice and ... hummus?
Lining the cobblestone streets, the family- owned restaurants are true diamonds in the rough. That is, if you can compare chick peas to diamonds. Never before have I tasted such creamy and full-bodied versions of hummus, as I did in Jerusalem. Their secret, according to one local restaurant owner, is egg yolks. Folded with finesse into an olive oil oozing sesame-seeded garbanzo bonanza, the egg yolks add a seductive smoothness to this traditional staple. The dish was always served with local olive oil and adorned with whole chick peas. I was in "homus" heaven morning, lunch and dinner.

While Jerusalem's religious diversity is truly awe-inspiring, it was often eclipsed by the political tension between the Palestiniens and Israelians. Never have I been to a place where religious fervor is so concentrated, and political conviction so unyielding.

CUSTOMS CAUTION Many Arab countries refuse to recognize Israel as a separate nation, so traveling beyond her borders requires some precautions. Yannick made sure that my Israeli stamp was attached to a separate piece of paper.

The wailing wall. Men and women are separated. Directly on the other side, hundreds of Muslims worship in the mosque.
With the Dead Sea but an hour and a half away from Jerusalem, it was worth renting a car to spend a day by the beach. Because we went in the "winter" months, the temperature was much lower, but at least we didn't have to fight the tourists! The surrounding town, however, is rather commercialized, and not worth planning into our excursion.

I wouldn't have gone in if not for Julien's paternal instincts. "Mais il fait trop froid!" But Julien, unwilling to let me come this far without swimming, wouldn't take my feable excuse and threatened to throw me in if I didn't enter on my own accord. With Cedric ready to prevent any attempt to flee and Julien guarding me from behind, I slowly waded in. I must admit that despite the cold, I was ultimately pleased to have taken the dead- sea "dive" ...

After having visited the main attractions within the walls of Jerusalem, our menagerie traipsed to the outskirts of the town to pay a visit to the convent. It serves as a haven for religious pilgrims that travel from all over the Middle East and Europe to visit the holy terrain of the Promised Land. While there, I enjoyed a wonderful conversation with the priest and sat down and relaxed over tea with one of the sisters.

Where Christ placed his hand as he stumbled under the weight of the cross. You can see that the rock has worn in from the contact of thousands of others since then.

A few of the friends I went with.

While guns are common place in Israel, I was especially appreciative of this shot. Located right outside the world's largest Holocaust Museum, I found it all too ironic that an Israeli soldier would be so casually displaying his "man"power at the very establishment which commemorates their people's own subjugation.

With Jordan next door, it is well worth taking time to explore Petra. Most Americans unknowingly catch a virtual glimpse of the city in scenes from the Indiana Jones movies. I marveled at the capacity of humans to carve an ancient town from the face of a mountain, centuries before Christ was born.

The President of Palestine: the man with the beam of light on his head, directly to the left of the cross. This church was constructed over the manger where Christ was born. Yannick and I made it to Bethlehem in time for the anniversary of the three kings arrival. After a grueling two hours of old, aggressive Russians, Yannick and I managed to get two of the best spots in the church. Petra continued ...

Cow tongue, anyone? The Palestinian territory of Hebron. Once a bustling market place. Now rather barren because of the specific political make-up of the town. As a general rule, the Palestinians live on the bottom floors of the buildings, while the Israeli's live on top. A decrepit, barbed wire separates the two stories, which doesn't impede 2nd-story dwellers from throwing ( and pouring ) various trash items and waste products (including human excrement) down below. The Palestinians, to say the least, aren't very receptive to this creative form of neighborly love. Israeli soldiers sat high up in watch towers; I could feel their eyes both me and our small group as we walked through the town.

The Dead Sea.
Where Christ was buried ...

A Palestinian territory. The water tanks are kept as reserves since the Israelis have an inconvenient habit of cutting off their water supply ...

Roma

noreply@blogger.com (Karen Rogers) — Thu, 06 Dec 2007 21:48:00 +0000

Switzerland

noreply@blogger.com (Karen Rogers) — Mon, 05 Nov 2007 18:17:00 +0000

Geneva
The view from my porch ...
One of the main roads. Families heading for the village gathering.

Cows.
Not a bad view for a Sunday brunch ...
My apartment
The kids of Gryon had a pumpkin decorating contest!
The most beautiful and delicious bake sale I've ever attended.

Africa

noreply@blogger.com (Karen Rogers) — Thu, 13 Sep 2007 23:33:00 +0000

Id have to say that this has been my craziest trip yet. My plan? Penetrate the most destitute continent in the world, stay with a Senegalese family, and hope that I could be of some help once there. My contingency plan? If the family doesn't show up and the NGO's don't want a volunteer getting in the way - cheap hostals and powerbars. My travelogue:With dad's warnings of AIDS ringing in my ears and the doctor's warnings of menginitis and malaria contraction racing through my head, I try my best to mount the plane without mounting my anxiety as well. On the first plane ride my frazzled nerves are quickly soothed as my traveling luck once again kicks in. By the end of the plane ride, I have met two girls from Belgium that switched seats to sit with me, I'm carrying the phone number of a Parisian who insists that I call for a personal tour as soon as I'm back in the city, and I am full from the first class dinner selection I was offered by the hostess. And if thats not enough, right before landing, the Belgium girls tell me they work for a job recruiting center. No problem - They'll help me find something in Belgium if I'm interested. Score! From Morocco to Senegal, however, I start to get nervous once more. No one comes to sit with me. No one gives me their number. No one offers me a job. Not only that, but the plane smells bad and the people are dressed funny. I decide to take things into my own hands - I target a white woman sitting nearby. I lean in and ask her a grammar question in French ... Lame, I know. But it does the trick. Five minutes later, I have her number and a contact just in case I need anything while I'm in Senegal. Relief.Coming off the plane the first thing I notice is the heat. It's three in the morning and the heat has an almost tactile quality. Nevertheless, I pull a light jacket around my shoulders to ward off any malaria-infested insects that could kill me with one bite. Don't look at any stranger, I think to myself, they'll steal your visa and take over your identity! I cross my fingers and hope that my Senegalese family will be there to pick me up. Africa in the middle of the night seems the perfect setting for a horror novel ... especially with a disillusioned American traveling alone acting as the main character. Interpolation: young, white, female, dissillusioned American traveling alone. My first day in Dakar, in Africa really, I go into sensory overload as all five of my senses are pummeled by new sensations. New smells, new tastes. Startling sights and strange sounds. The pungent odor of horse maneur lying in the street. A handful of cooked rice and fish mashed against the palm of my hand. A flash of color as rickety buses barrel down the street. The satisfying crunch of a cocunt as I bite down on the hardened flesh. The sound of vendors trying to sell mangos on the side of the road. So this is Africa. Im staying in Pikine, a tiny village outside of Senegal's capital. Its known for its destitution. No paved roads, no garbage collection. Sewage treatment? That's what the ocean is for, naturally. I explore the market with Yacine, my Senegalese host while I am here. The vendors are scattered haphazardly within an incongruous series of disheveled ramshakes and dilapidated sheds. It is "markets" like these that contribute to Africa's GDP - 70 percent of which isn't accounted for by the government. If you are expecting a receipt after purchasing your eggs, think again. If your lucky, you might get a tiny plastic bag with your purchase. And as I said, that's if you're lucky. The family I stayed with was incredibly warm and welcoming. I felt comfortable right away and was able to get to know each one pretty well during the time I was there. I was always with one of the family members. Whether I was exploring Dakar, going to the market, or watching television, I was never alone. The villagers themselves were also really nice, and I met 3 Canadians that were friends with Yacine. Despite the warmth of the people, however, the reality of the living situation wasn't as inviting. First of all, there were flies everywhere. I felt like a horse in a barn, constantly swatting at " les mouches. " Try eating a mango in Africa - its a protein-enriching experience (; Furthermore, I was staying in a 4 bedroom home that was shared by 12 people. I shared a room with Yacine and her younger sister. I was just happy to have my own bed. There were two bathrooms in the home, and while each one boasted a spicket with running water, there was neither soap nor toilet paper. A rather pertinent detail when all meals are eaten with your hands ...Needless to say, I didn't last the three weeks I had planned on staying.The last night I spent with the family the sweltering heat had literally transformed into a tangingle force that was actually pushing down on my lungs. Everything was damp. My pillow, my sheets, my legs. The worst were my arms, sticky with a thick film of grime - a melange of silt from the day's adventures in the city and moisture from the air's heavy humidity. I tossed. I turned. I sighed. Random memories of mom's AC fanatacism drifted in and out of my head. How could I have complained when she blasted the airconditioning in the house? I vascillated between cherishing the coolness of these memories and growing bitter for the intolerance to heat she had fostered. I tossed. I turned. I sighed. There was no way I was sleeping tonight. Exasperated, I pulled my mosquito net to the side and headed for the "shower." Too late - it looked like I had to wait my turn. There were two cockroaches crawling up the side of the bathroom. The next morning, I packed my bags. After five days, I had to escape ... from reality. I wanted back in my bubble. Now! I rummaged through my backpack looking for the number of the younger woman from the plane. Found it. "Call if you need help. 436 67 86. - Tashina." Two hours later I was sitting across from her in an air-conditioned French restaurant. The second half of my trip to Africa -Poolsides, cocktail parties with world-wide embassadors, and an air-conditioned car.Oh, and did I mention personal lessons on discreet bribery from the police chief himself?To be continued....

Africa: Part II

(Just in case you didn't read the first half - this entry is from my stay with the couple I met on the plane. They were in their later 20's, so just by the default of age we got along really well during my stay)

I soon realized that Tashina had quite a few connections in Dakar – I suspected it the first day while we were at lunch. From the time we parked the car to the end of the meal as we payed the check, it seemed to me that she knew almost everyone. It wasn't until she answered a phone call from the ambassador of India, and sent a text message to an Egyptian diplomat, however, that I began to realize the extent of her contacts. Tashina, as it turned out, had some pretty interesting friends.

While I enjoyed the social benefits of her network as I tagged along to cocktail parties and lunch-ins with politicians and ambassadors, we soon found out just how advantageous her connections really were one Wednesday afternoon ...

Technically, Tashina was living in Dakar illegally. For over one year now, she had been without a Visa because she didn’t want to bribe the officials to issue it. In order to switch electric companies, however, she had to present her Visa to the comany. Therefore, late Wednesday morning we drove to the police station - Tashina ranting about governmental corruption the whole way. Arriving at the building, I was already prepared for a long wait to talk to an official that would only send us off on a scavenger hunt to fetch a paper that doesn’t exist from some department in the middle of nowhere. And then bring everything back to the station only to discover that they closed early for the day. (You get the point). When we walked up to the building, however, one of the head police chiefs came up to us smiling. Go figure – Tashina knew him. He sat with us for an hour as we waited for the official to come back from lunch. The conversation passed rather uneventfully - that is, until the topic of bribery surfaced. The police chief quickly shook his head at the word “bribery” and patiently explained that, well, there’s a difference between bribing and giving money. You see, bribing a cop isn’t necessarily bribing a cop. Oooohhhh. Suddenly, I understood! So all this talk of corruption was really just one global misunderstanding. I wish someone had explained this to me before! Encouraged by my feigned enlightenment, the chief pulls out his “briefcase” (a beat- up bag with a broken zipper), pulls out his wallet (a folded over piece of leather of similar quality to that of the briefcase), and proceeds to demonstrate how to tactfully bribe a cop. Oh, excuse me. He proceeds to demonstrate how to tactfully give money to a cop. Fold, slip, smile … and "Voila" …afterwwards ... just roll up the window and drive away. 15 minutes later, our expedited Visa is ready, and Tashina practices her new trick … twice. Our friend the Chief and the Visa man were quite tactfully compensated for their services.

Coming up (if I get around to it):
A rotting infrasctructure .... Fainting in the middle of the night ... Prostitution and AIDS...

My host family.

noreply@blogger.com (Karen Rogers) — Fri, 31 Aug 2007 18:57:00 +0000

MT - hiking with Dad (and running trails with Bethany)

noreply@blogger.com (Karen Rogers) — Fri, 31 Aug 2007 18:21:00 +0000

After my visit to MT - Dana and I road-tripped to Niagra Falls (on the Canadian side) and visited Eli at Cornell. One of the highlights of the trip was our dining experience in Buffalo, NY (at the restaurant where Buffalo Wings were very first created) Dana's mom treated us to a gourmet three course meal at the Prince of Wales hotel in Canada. Ostrich eggs anyone?
During the commute from Ithaca to Canada, we digressed from the highway and explored the Amish Country, plantations, and vineyards surrounding the Finger Lakes.

Summer Sculpture

noreply@blogger.com (Karen Rogers) — Thu, 28 Jun 2007 09:29:00 +0000

My latest sculpture - a rendition of Michaelangelo's David. I'm really frusterated, however, because I spent hours agonizing over proportions and trying to perfect each detail .. and when I finished .. I realized that ... well, his "masculinity" (if you know what I mean) was egregiously underemphasized ... (sigh)
I should have had a male give their advice before I let it dry out. ):

Culinary Kids

noreply@blogger.com (Karen Rogers) — Thu, 28 Jun 2007 07:18:00 +0000

I was working with one of the kids in the kitchen, when I turned around and saw a camp coordinator's nightmare - Ryan (a Decal cook from UC Berkeley) was holding a gun to a camper's head. My heart started racing as images of angry parents demanding answers and threatening lawsuits swarmed my mind. But, just as I was about to demand that he put the gun down, I heard him solemly inform her, "Your temperature is 99.2. You need to calm down." A wave of relief assuaged my racing heartbeat. I quickly realized that the gun employed not bullets, but rather an ultraviolet ray that measures temperature. Sajdah had been too rowdy and Ryan wanted some quantifiable evidence to prove his point.

Pulling taffy? Culinary Kids ...

The Oakland Zoo

noreply@blogger.com (Karen Rogers) — Thu, 14 Jun 2007 03:07:00 +0000

The Oakland Zoo

noreply@blogger.com (Karen Rogers) — Thu, 14 Jun 2007 02:56:00 +0000

Me - feeding a giraffe! My suitemate works in the African department so I organized a trip with some friends over to the Oakland Zoo - behind the scenes!

A visit to the bay

noreply@blogger.com (Karen Rogers) — Sun, 03 Jun 2007 20:56:00 +0000

I took Bethany to the Ferry building in San Francisco - the famer's market is incredible. Olivia, Bethany, and I had a busy weekend between touring Berkeley and exploring SF.

Documentary "Business"

noreply@blogger.com (Karen Rogers) — Tue, 29 May 2007 23:08:00 +0000

This is Sara Levi, a 92-year-old Holocaust survivor. Right now I am doing a documentary on her life - her grandparents fled Spain because otherwise they would have been forced to convert from Judaism to Catholicism. They relocated to the Island of Rhodes, a quaint island in the Mediterranean Sea - where she grew up until Hitler gained power. I took Olivia, Bethany, and my new suitemate to visit her ...

My new apartment

noreply@blogger.com (Karen Rogers) — Fri, 25 May 2007 07:36:00 +0000

This is Angela and Gaeton - one of my best friends here at Berkeley, and her Parisienne boyfriend. Angela actually grew up in Taiwan - and moved to the US when she was 12. We might spend Christmas in Corsica at Gaetan's place!

I had a crepe night at my new apartment - Gaetan showed us how true French crepes are made - but flipping proved to be a challenge.

This is the campus side of the panoramic views - you can see the belltower that Berkeley is famous for.

This is Adam (my boyfriend)

Olivia came to visit me for a week ...

Spring Break

noreply@blogger.com (Karen Rogers) — Sat, 07 Apr 2007 09:41:00 +0000

My spring break was spent sliding along the slippery east coast (it was rainy for about half of my trip) and visiting friends and family. It was SO nice to see everyone; by the end of the trip, I realized that I had stayed in a different town every night. Philadelphia, Medford, New York, Princeton, New Haven ... the list goes on.
One of the highlights of my trip, however, was seeing Isaac! He is the cutest baby ever! Ann looks incredible, too. I must say, Bethany and I have done a good job dressing her in top-notch hand-me-downs. (; But besides that, she is the perfect mother. Already Isaac is more cultured than most - Ann only speaks with him in French!
I also got to see Dad, which was really fortuitous because he just happened to be in Philly the weekend I came in. At the last minute, we decided to meet Chris at Princeton and so we spent a few hours walking around campus and catching up. Dad bought Chris and I the ugliest umbrellas ever - boldly sporting Princeton's orange and black stripes. I can't wait for it to rain at Berkeley!
The next day, Dad and I went to visit one of his friends that lives in Philly - you should have heard how many good things he had to say about Dad! Did you know that Dad won a really prestiguous national award for a surgical video he did? He's considered one of the two best obstetrical surgeons in the nation ...
Anyway, I also spent a day shopping and restaurant-hopping with Anna and Aaron. We had so much fun! Aaron is hilarious - and Anna is the most laid-back girl ever. Aunt Barb's house is right next to Tufts - in a beautiful neighborhood and only a bike ride away from Harvard square. They did such a great job remodeling it; its beautiful!
The trip, however, was entirely too short. I can't complain, though, because my friends are flying me back to PA this August before I go abroad. That way, I will have plenty of time to road trip and visit. We are going to be staying in Canada for a few days and stopping along the way at Niagra falls and Cape Cod.

The Cal/Stanford Cook-Off

noreply@blogger.com (Karen Rogers) — Fri, 02 Mar 2007 08:37:00 +0000

This picture is of one of the Berkeley contestants preparing the final touches on their dishes. Lucky me - I got to go to all of their practices! Berkeley won - but it was only by a mere fraction of a point ...

This Cook-Off was my huge project fall of 2006 - check out the articles!

Ecuador

noreply@blogger.com (Karen Rogers) — Fri, 02 Mar 2007 08:26:00 +0000

This was in Ecuador - I belayed waterfalls with a couple that I met in the bus. I still don't know why I am smiling in this picture because I think I had just fallen off the ledge ...

Peru 2006

noreply@blogger.com (Karen Rogers) — Thu, 15 Feb 2007 08:23:00 +0000

For two days we hiked the Inca trail before arriving at Machu Pichu - a sacred establishment that was started, but never finished, by the Incas. In the early 1500s the Spanish conquests brought an abrupt end to all construction as the Incas fled the region. What a lot of people don't know, however, is that this sacred temple was a secret to the Incas themselves. Only the elite - the priests and very priveledged knew about its construction. The workers were uprooted from their homes in the valley without knowing where they were going or what they would be building. The holiest buildings such as the temples, were built without any mortar - What I found to be even more impressive, however, was the hydrolic system they had established.
The majority of my trip I stayed in Arequipa where I volunteered at a children's hospital and an orphanage when I wasn't studying for my Spanish course. (I paid 4 dollars an hour for a personal tutor while I was there!) Anyhow, at the orphanage, the boys each learned special trades so that they would be able to support themselves when they were on their own. I was surprised at how self-sufficient they were- They even made their own shoes!

Costa Rica (summer 2005)

noreply@blogger.com (Karen Rogers) — Mon, 12 Feb 2007 20:54:00 +0000

This picture was taken along the road in Costa Rica after I had just finished white-water rafting. The trip was by far one of my favorite excursions; I felt like I was going back into time as the current swept us down the river, under hanging bridges and alongside teepees. The currents didn't prove to be too challenging, and I almost finished the entire trip without falling out of the raft. The instructor spoiled my triumph, however, when at the end of the trip he snuck up behind me and threw me into the river!

My Spanish tutor in Costa Rica was a running addict, so she managed to cajole me into running a half-marathon while I was there. All throughout the race, spectators stood by offering words of encouragement and hosing us off with water. Even with the occassional dousing of water, however, I was still overheated. Of course, within 5 minutes of finishing the race, it started to downpour. Just my luck.

For a weekend, my host family took me to their vacation house nearby the "aguas thermales" or the hot springs. It was unbelievably beautiful. Imagine yourself in the middle of a jungle taking a natural bath under the cascading warmth of a heated waterfall. It was amazing - Until ... without warning, the skies opened up and it began to downpour. We knew it was dangerous to stay in the water, but we ignored our commen sense and continued to jump off the cliff we had discovered. Finally, we decided to leave and started the treck back home. 5 minutes into our return home, the trail intersected with the river, and we saw, aghast, that it had completely flooded. The water level had risen several feet; we watched in horror as entire logs were swept downstream by the current. Relieved that I had just escaped death, I was overhwhelmingly grateful to be safely returning home. My feeling of security were soon shaken again, however, when I tripped over a root and my leg plunged down into an insulated mudpit. Fortunately, one of the guys that was walking behind me pulled me out before I burnt myself. Talk about an adventure in the jungle!

France (summer 2006)

noreply@blogger.com (Karen Rogers) — Mon, 12 Feb 2007 20:47:00 +0000

Florion was one of the two kids I watched while I was in France. Il est trop mignon! This is his attempt at showing his affection.

Winter Break in Spain

noreply@blogger.com (Karen Rogers) — Sun, 11 Feb 2007 03:37:00 +0000

In Valencia I stayed with three Italians and a Spaniard. The Spanish girl and I decided to go exploring and ended up eating a lunch while enjoying the picturesque view of the beach
Europeans eat so much pork! I was exploring one of the largest open markets while touring in Valencia, and I couldn't help but take a snapshot of this pig's head. I suppose they don't let any part go to waste ...

La Sangrada Familia. I toured Barcelona with a model from Lima, Peru and a veterinarian from Rome, Italy - this was one of our favorite attractions. La Sangrada Familia is a Catholic Cathedral of which construction began around one thousand years ago. Due to insufficient funding, however, it remains a masterpiece in progress. Today, new parts are erected as offerings from the Catholics are amassed. Because there is no one architectural plan (instead, a conglomerate of architects such as Gaudi have contributed to its design) it was fascinating to see how the century-old steeples were complimented by the modern flare of more recent additions.