Holy Guacamole! There's a pickle in my burrito!!!

We have been spending the last two days getting further acquainted with the area and furnishing our apartment.  It has been fun furnishing our apartment.  We basically came with clothes, so we need everything.  Yesterday, Mike stopped at the local electronics store while the kids and I waited in the car.  While we were sitting there, I noticed smoke coming from the hood.  At first, I thought it was exhaust, but when it started billowing, I thought,  "This can't be good."  As luck would have it, we were only a mile from the Volvo shop and were able to make it there and get a loaner while the fan is being fixed on the other one.  Whew!  Another tragedy averted, because that could have been bad!

Today, we drove to the Apple Store in the next town, to see about getting my iPhone unlocked for use in Finland.  It so happens that my version of the iPhone cannot be unlocked so next week we will have to see about getting one that is compatible with the European phone system.  We asked the salesperson to recommend a place for lunch.  He recommended a place called Ole that served Spanish cuisine.  For a moment, I had visions of a big bowl of chips, salsa, and a margarita.  I was slightly disappointed when I did not see that on the menu but I held out hope for the burrito...only to have it dashed as well.  Which brings me to my lessons for the day:  1)  You can put anything inside a tortilla shell and call it a burrito. 2)  The best Hispanic food is in Texas!!!

Yes, there are pickles and processed cheese slices on my burrito!!!

*****

From Russia With Love

It was a nice night so we decided to walk around the town and see what Saturday night was like in Finland.  After visiting a few tourist sights, we decided to find a place where we could sit and enjoy a beer.  On nice nights, such as this, restaurants and pubs have an outdoor seating area.  While Mike ordered our drinks at the stand, I found a quiet table.  It wasn't 10 seconds, when an ogre of a man sat down at the table with me and said something to me in Finnish I presume.  I was taken a bit off guard by his large presence, beefy hands, and questionable hygiene.  I said back to him, "Sorry, English."  At which he concluded with enthusiasm, (in broken English), "Oh! You and I, we are the same!"  I don't know if I was more horrified that he was hitting on me or that, somehow, he came to the conclusion that we were the same!!!  He then proceeded to tell me how he saw me and wanted to sit with me because I look like a nice woman.  I told him that my husband and kids would be sitting there at which he quickly apologized and repeatedly told Mike what a lucky man he was.  Lucky indeed! 

Mike and I later laughed about the experience.  We have been warned about the prevalence of Russian prostitutes.  I asked Mike, "You don't think he thought I was a prostitute?"  Mike gave me a quick glance and replied, "In that outfit?"