Çay
I finally got a mug of yellow-label Lipton sweetened well enough to taste like hot iced tea. If I could find a few ice cubes around here at work I might have taken the leap, but no such luck.
People here drink a lightly cooled, un-iced cola drink in the summer, and everything in the winter is consumed at or near room temperature (or hotter, of course). If you don’t do this, you’re looked at just about as crazily as when you don’t wear a jacket when the temperature is below 70 F.
I think I may finally get my SIM card today for the Skype project.
The office is not as empty as I would have expected today. I had one day of vacation (officially; my privately-approved accounting due to the visa issues is strange to say the least) left for the year, but I didn’t take it because I’ve barely been here all month.
Celsius is a truly vile unit. Fahrenheit was designed by an engineer: pragmatic, intuitive, unconcerned with theory. 0 is friggin’ cold, 100 is friggin’ hot. Water freezes somewhere on the low side. Double down on the hot side and water’s almost boiling. Also, the unit is small enough you have the fitting amount of sensitivity in integer measurements. If our apartment’s thermostat reads 20, it’s darn cold in there. But 25 is like leave the house kind of hot. I know this, because when the AC wasn’t turned on in early summer we got up to 27 for a while.
It was like I was reenacting Cool Hand Luke from the couch.