2004-12-02..5:12 p.m.

I'm a little disconcerted with this whole December thing. My goal for 2004 was to learn how to say 'garlic soup' in ten different languages. I only got as far as eight (Arabic, Czech, Finnish, French, German, Polish, Slovak, and Spanish). Nine if you include English, but I rather think that's cheating. It's not a very practical goal, it's perhaps not even an even slightly useful goal unless you are me and think garlic breath is sexy (Ooooooh Yeeeeeah)*, and you're kind of in with Fred Wah's father when it comes to thinking if your lover leaves you for a non-garlic-eater, they probably weren't worth it in the first place.

It is in fact a bit dangerous, because in the world of garlic soup there are no compromises, only extremes. It's either Great or Shit, nothing in between. This was discovered by me in a small, relatively scary caf� in Prague when I was visiting Nelle last Christmas. It was the only thing of the menu that was not deep fried nor full of carcass, but it was terrible. It was literally garlic water. A brownish broth of questionable origin** that tasted like the inside of an abandoned gas tank used by small rodents as their own personal lavatory. The next time I tried it was in a bagelry, this little bohemian place that is surprisingly untouristy given it's just off the Old Square. Perfect bagels, egg free and gorgeous, in a soup-and-salad meal deal. Garlic was the only option and I fell in love. It was gorgeosity itself.

In any case, that's how I came to decide I must know how to ask, how ever ineptly, for garlic soup in ten different languages. And I'm two out with a mere twnety-nine days to go.

*Amazingly I have not a drop of French blood in me, but this love means that I can study vampirism without a hint of fangy worry

****meep