Blueberry kisiel forever

Feels like I went back to 7th grade when I was in Finland during Christmas. Not only I re-learned how to knit, but also how to make kiisseli again. Since I had no idea what kiisseli is in English, and I was not satisfied with my "something between thick juice and thin soup" explanation I relied on the wonder wide web.

Wikipedia expanded my vocabulary and knowledge by telling me that kiisseli is kisiel or kissel in English and кисель kisél’ in Russian, kisiel in Polish, kisielius in Lithuanian and кисiль in Ukrainian. It is said to be "a popular dessert in Eastern and Northern Europe. It consists of sweetened juice, thickened with arrowroot, cornstarch or potato starch, and sometimes red wine or dried fruits are added. It is similar to the Danish Rødgrød or German Rote Grütze. Kissel can be served either hot or cold, also together with sweetened quark or semolina pudding. Kissel can also be served on pancakes or with ice cream. If the kissel is made using less thickening starch, it can be drunk - this is common in Russia." I wonder if the Russian кисель includes Vodka too? The one in the picture doesn't, even though it is drinkable as the Russian kisiel. I haven't made kisiel in a very long time. One reason in the past couple of years was that I haven't been able to find potato flour in Ottawa. I was graving for kisiel as well as (lingon)berry pudding last autumn, but the lack of potato flour hold me back. Once I decided to make cranberry pudding out of the local fresh cranberries (replacement for (lingon)berry pudding), and I bought corn flour to replace potato flour. That trial ended up with nicely pinkish and pretty pudding -- with a texture of glue. I bravely ate most of the sticky pudding in the next couple of days, but the fourth morning I had to through it out.

I wised up from that sticky experience and brought some potato flour with me from Finland; the first blueberry-strawberry kisiel of the year turned out to be non-sticky and delicious. (And inspired me to play with the camera too.) Thanks to Wikipedia now I know that Poles make their own kisiel and I could have a good chance to find potato flour in the local Polish store. If this is the case I don't have to worry about regulating or smuggling potato flour anymore, and I can make kisiel whenever I want!

One year in Canada, yay!

I arrived to Canada a year ago to start my new life. A lot has happened in one year, tears have been shed and laughter has been heard. All in all, it's been a good first year in Canada, and I'm looking forward to starting my second year here.



"Arriving one year ago" doesn't mean that I became officially an immigrant a year ago, time for that was a one month later - so on February 24 I'll have yet another reason for a 1 year cake, yay! There can never be too much cake.

Oh, Ethan

*Sigh* We watched Before Sunrise last night, and I found myself falling in love with Ethan Hawke again. 15 years ago, when I saw the movie for the first time, I was SO in love with Ethan, and I was dreaming about my own future-Ethan.

But then I was hit with a thought that all the nice lines of Ethan were just a product of some Hollywood mogul who was earning tons of money by feeding the perfect love story to thousands of teenagers around the world. I was devastated. However, the devastation didn't kill my love for Ethan, it only made me angry at Hollywood for turning me into a cynical teenager.

But the cynical teenager is long gone, and yesterday Ethan stole my heart again. Even though the characters seem teenager-ish to a 30 year old, their shy smiles and slight awkwardness, yet at the same time youthful straight-forwardness with each other is so captivating and so true. Oh, Ethan. *Sigh*

More sighing is in the schedule for the weekend, for I absolutely HAVE to watch Before Sunset before the sun sets on Sunday!

Helsinki = Kinshasa

For some time I've been trying to convince myself that I'm an adult and I should travel as adults do. Maybe "not being adult enough" is the reason for why most of my airport experiences have been as irrational as the equation in the title.

Based on my observations on the real adults at the airports I should have a small purse which only includes my wallet, passport, tickets and a book/magazine; a neat carry on luggage on two wheels for extra clothes in case checked in luggage gets lost or delayed; a larger, neat luggage (or two if needed and allowed) on two wheels for rest of the stuff. Of course the real adults also look always fresh and rested even after traveling for 28 hours.

Since 2004 I've crossed the Atlantic 15 times, and most of those times I've been everything but an adult. My luggage are not adult-like, for usually I travel with a knapsack, a giant army-looking bag and a smaller, stripy hippy-style bag which has been my dearest travel bag since I bought it in Germany in 1997.

The worst (or the most ridiculous, fun and memorable) trip over the Atlantic was my return from the exchange year in Toronto in 2005. Back in those days passengers could have two checked in luggage, each 32 kilos. Without having a scale at my Toronto home I packed everything and imagined that I probably have about 35 kilos in each. I was wrong.

The airport-lady told me that my luggage were 35 kilos and 50 kilos, which was unacceptable. With a you-are-in-trouble-tone she told me that I should remove 20 kilos from the bigger luggage into a box that she gave to me, and obviously 20 extra kilos would cost like hell. I didn't have a visa card or any cash, and I couldn't pay anything. I was afraid she will tell me that my stuff will stay in Toronto. Fortunately she had a moment of compassion, and she looked at me and told with a VERY serious face "Don't you ever do this again". I promised not to.

The next 45 minutes included unpacking the luggage and packing the box and repacking my knapsack (which weight over 10 kilos too, but the lady didn't know that, lucky me!); passing the security without a bigger hassle; repeating some of the unpacking-repacking-exercise once more at the gate and having yet another extra checked in package without a cost. Finally I was sitting on the plane. With my (clean) underwear in a sack and a stripy purse with a wooden cat statue in it as my carry on package. I was laughing so much that I didn't even have time to cry when the plane took off and Toronto was left behind.

After that my travels across the Atlantic have been more graceful, but something is still usually going slightly wrong. Either because of something I do (like forgetting my wallet at a desk or dropping my ticket before the security gates and noticing it after the security gates when there's no way back) or something that the system does. In December, when I was flying to Helsinki, Finland, the system would have sent me to Kinshasa, Congo. It was only after my checked in luggage was already long gone and I was about to leave from the check-in desk, when the gentleman serving me noticed that he was sending me to Kongo. Luckily (again!) everything was sorted out and even the luggage found its way to Finland, only a day later than I did.

When preparing my return to Canada I decided that this is it, now I will be an adult. No more over-weight luggage, panic, hassle or other irrational behaviour with wooden cats in my purse. On December 30, when I was checking in at the Helsinki airport, I could have passed as an adult. I had a large checked in luggage on two wheels, a neat carry on luggage on two wheels and a purse for my wallet, tickets and passport... and for two kilos of chocolate and woolen socks. If I have to behave like an adult, at least I will be an adult with warm feet and a sweet trip!

New Year, New Socks!

Happy this year!

December was full of events and updating the blog was often in my mind but I never found the time or energy to write anything. But now I'm back in business, especially since superb English wasn't in Santa's sack and I still have work to do with my English. So, one of my New Year's resolution is to write more often again, once a week as I did in the beginning.

Another thing that wasn't in Santa's sack was a pair of woolen socks. Even before meeting the Santa I was hunting down a perfect pair of woolen socks, and I traveled to the other end of the world, to the capital of woolen socks (Kuopio) to find a pair. No luck. All the socks in Kuopio were either boringly gray or ridiculously expensive, so I decided to brush up my knitting skills and make my own socks.

Memories about knitting weren't very positive. About 15 years ago, when knitting was part of my school week, knitting was everything but my favourite subject. I was famous for making knots and messes that even the teacher couldn't undo, and I often had to start over whatever I was knitting. I was soooo jealous for my friends who without problems made all kind of beautiful knitted things. Finally after stuggling for several weeks, I managed to make a pair of mittens, which actually turned out to be pretty. I was proudly wearing them as long as there was any thread left.

Now, 15 years later and desperately wanting to have colourful woolen socks I asked my mom to show me again, how knitting works. She did, and a knitting fever hit me hard. Within five days I had beautiful, colourful, little loose socks, made by my own hands: