Phew, am done with the two papers I needed to submit and have some time to write about things not relating to either Foucault’s meaning of power or preferential trade agreements.

In the long standing tradition of our abilities to be “bad planners” (remind me to tell you the story of how we got to Havana last year), I left immediately after the term was over for a two-week stay in Los Angeles, coming back Christmas day.  Pedram left a week earlier, going to a conference before meeting up with me.  This was bad for the following reasons:

1- Me and dog alone at home with crazy last minute library research panic and new city that is so creepily quiet and British winter which means 4pm darkness equals crazy paranoid Mahsa who wishes her dog was 5 times bigger than he is.  And that he was just a teeny bit aggressive.

2 – Finding out that there is no transportation home from the airport on Christmas day, no shuttles, no buses, no trains.  Taxis charge twice as much, which means it is cheaper to rent a car for two days, bring it back to the airport, then take a bus back home, than take to pay for a taxi on Christmas.

3 – As of a week before the trip, we still did not have a dog-sitter.  As of the day before I left, we still did not have anyone for Christmas eve and Christmas morning.

4 – Also, those papers?  Yeah, they really should have been written over a few weeks, as opposed cramming a month’s worth of work in 10 days.  I literally did not leave the house or change my clothes for the first 9 days of 2012.

Wow, I am going to stop the rambling.  And remind myself again to plan better next time.  Seriously, taking a red eye 11 hour flight and then driving on the left-side when it is already dark at 4pm on Christmas day is not a good idea.

Los Angeles, by the way, was amazing.  I have such a love/hate relationship with that city, and this time, I think even Pedram felt his cold European hate melt with the warm California sun.  And of course, there is this guy:

He is my nephew.  And we spent alot of time hanging out, catching up with the Kardashians, and judging my sister in her role as a new mom.  He is pretty cool and likes to nap.  We napped together a few times.

He does not, not matter how hard you try, like to give you a smile, but when he does, be ready, cause it will make your heart go pitter patter.

Pedram and I also took a car trip for a few days to Sedona, Arizona.  All of our other plans (Hawaii, Mexico, even the Grand Canyon) were cancelled for one reason or another.  Our drive there was interesting — leaving the LA mess behind, large, flat, open space with nothingness, and then more nothingness for hours and hours.

Euro's first cactus

And then we hit a huge snowstorm, in which I could only see about an inch in front of the car, and nothing on either side of us.  We were warned about the snow storm by the local news and the woman at the gas station, but decided to continue because Pedram could not wrap his head around the fact that there could be snow in Arizona.

Literally, as we were surrounded by snow and ice, he kept repeating that it couldn’t be right, how is there precipitation in the desert?  And the guy works on climate and geography, people.

Luckily, the valley of Sedona only had a little rain, which turned into small patches of ice on our hikes, and then eventually melted to show the beauty of the great American west.

And then we were back in LA, where the weather was not stormy at all, and we spent all of our time taking turns holding the baby, going for walks, eating delicious homecooked meals, and hanging out with my family.

If I had told Pedram that one day we would be spending a week in a two bedroom apartment with my parents, my two siblings, my sister’s husband and their brand new baby, I think he would have immediately booked a hotel.  His family doesn’t do the whole “lets cram everyone together in one tiny space and let the fart jokes begin” thing that my family enjoys.  They like a little bit of personal space and the ability to close doors and get changed without worrying about their mother-in-law walking in on them.  At one point, my sister’s husband, who when he was not working, was staying up all night with the baby and doing loads of laundry, kindly folded Pedram’s underwear that was in the dryer and left it in a nice pile.  And I imagine Pedram’s discomfort at having someone fold his personal items, and his general uneasiness at the general lack of boundaries.

But if he was bothered, he definitely didn’t mention it, except to be grateful for his brother-in-law’s nice act.  In fact, now thinking of it, I think Pedram thrived in the apartment, since I had many outlets to  vent, and he got a little bit of rest from being my best friend/family/punching bag.  He definitely enjoyed it a little too much when my family would mock me and tell embarassing stories.  And occasionally he would escape to his aunt’s house in the valley, where she would pamper him even more than his own mother.

If we both arrived in California little balls of stress, it didn’t take long for us to unravel.  Sunset walks in Santa Monica, eating outside, and the guilt-free shopping you can do when everything is an additional 40% off when translated into pounds.  I took advantage of the spas, Pedram made time to enjoy the LA street art scene, and we both indulged in lots and lots of delicious persian food, both at home and in the best kabab restaurants in the states.

We returned to England filled with Americanism (real maple syrup, Trader Joe’s mangoes, persian fruit roll-ups), and Pedram even invested in a ukelele, cause we were just that kind of west-coast, beach-loving, sing-songy cool people now.  Yeah man.