Journal of a Sabbatical

August 10, 1999

you can go off pink raffia

It's too damned hot to work, but here we are sweating up a storm filing the last of the Taiwan specimens in numerical order. A few times I thought I'd faint.

If I never see another strand of that grotesque bizarre shredding pink stuff they tied the Taiwan bundles with it will be too soon. It shreds into finer and finer filaments every time you tie or untie it. I found little bits of it in my socks and underwear, not to mention my hair. Judy's understated British comment just summed it right up: "You can go off pink raffia."

Marti cooked lunch: galuska with mushroom sour cream paprika sauce.

The truck came with more boxes, all the stuff Istvan's been storing at the botanical department downtown (um, that would be Budapest, not Budakeszi). Just when I thought we were getting the place organized!

It's way too hot! And humid! Ick!

Istvan and Marti went out to dinner with us tonight. For a change we went to Tante Suzanne (or something vaguely French sounding like that) in Telki. It's quite upscale with well-dressed customers arriving in Mercedes. They have nice outdoor seating but it looks like it's about to rain any minute. The sky has gotten gray and oppressive and the wind is picking up although it is still uncomfortabley hot. The hostess advises us to sit inside. Of course it's even hotter in there but at least when the sky opens up we'll be dry.

A cat and two dogs seem to have the run of the place inside and out. This reminds me of the Hotel Primorye in Vladivostok - but that's just me.

Judy got sick. Keith took her back to the lodge. We think it's heat exhaustion.

The cat, black with a green collar, lapped up some sour cream I spilled and then rubbed against my legs looking for more.

[The rest of my notes for today are unreadable. When I can't read my own handwriting, you know it was hot.]

The sky never did open up until the wee hours and we worried the weather would be overcast for the eclipse tomorrow. [That much I remember.]