No Phone

This week’s new adventure was neither foreseen nor favorable, but it happened nonetheless.

Last Saturday I was chatting with my friend Sharmila in her room when, as I stood up to leave, I accidentally stepped on my phone. Immediately I knew that I had broken the screen and with it my communication with others.

I tried turning it on and off, but alas, nothing happened. And so it was confirmed that my phone was broken.

“No!” I cried, “This can’t be happening!” My mind raced as I tried to remember those whom I was texting prior to the incident. How was I supposed to contact them? Sharmila was nice enough to let me borrow her phone so I could finish setting up plans to go to Late Night at the HUB with some friends later that evening.

At 9:30 precisely I stood at the meeting place my friends and I had arranged for Late Night. The more I waited, the more I began to worry. What if something happened and they couldn’t come? They would have no way to contact me, and I was not enthused at the idea of indefinitely standing alone on a Saturday night.

My friends did meet me, but those few minutes of fretting made me wonder what life was going to be like without a phone? I had sent a message to my mom through Facebook, asking her is she could send me one of my old cell phones. But until then, I was phoneless!

Ever since my 14^th birthday when I was given my first cell phone, I have never spent an extended amount of time without one (save for abroad vacations where my family wasn’t allowed to use one for fear of a monstrous phone bill). And yet, even though I had spent 14 years of my life without one, I felt completely disconnected without a phone. How could I really be so dependent upon something small and nonessential?

I began to re-examine my relationship with my dead phone. Out of habit I brought the broken soul with me to class on more than one occasion. Every once in a while I tried checking to see if I had any new messages. The situation seemed to grow more pathetic by the day.

One might say that the experience was liberating – I was free from distracting texts and the compulsion to respond to others, but more than anything this week has made me a little disappointed.

I think that it’s sad how much I have come to rely upon a piece of technology, though I suppose today this is simply the norm. Gone are the days when letter writing was common and there was one phone per household. Is it better this way, or is it worse?

If nothing else, this week was extremely telling. I had no idea I was so reliant upon my phone. As a result, I was never so happy to use an old phone as I was when the one my mom sent me arrived.

Mt. Nittany

Spring has sprung! Flowers have begun to bloom as life emerges once again from the dormant trees. Like the vegetation, students spend the days outside enjoying the sun rather than retreating from gusts of bitterly cold wind. With such glorious weather, this was the perfect week to try climbing Mt. Nittany. 

The mountain is said to be named after Nit-A-Nee, a Native American woman whose lover was killed. After Nit-A-Nee buried her lost lover, a violent storm came and raised her lover’s burial mound until it grew to the size of the mountain.¹

Today this massive burial mound is known as Mt. Nittany and is a Penn State University landmark. With hiking trails between 2 and 8 miles long, it is a popular location for students and locals alike.

My friend Ana, a local of Centre County and experienced Mt. Nittany hiker, drove use to the base of the mountain. There were parked cars lined up along the road by the start of the hiking trail. Clearly, trekking Mt. Nitanny was popular and I was excited to start the climb for myself! After taking a brief look at a map of the trails, Ana and I began the climb.

Following white markers, we wandered up the path among the trees. It didn’t take very long until I was out of breath and perspiring – the incline was a lot steeper than I had thought it would be! Thankfully there were spots at which to rest along the path. We, of course, took advantage of these.

The path eventually went from soft dirt to rocks. Now not only did we have to reckon with the incline but also with out footing. Personally I enjoyed the added challenge; to me it was part of the adventure! Eventually our path went back to a safer footing and, as we got closer to the summit, the incline lessened. 

At last we reached the top! Sweaty and with thumping hearts, we walked over to a clearing which revealed a magnificent view of Happy Valley. The view was well worth the hike – from it we could see the town and campus below.

We weren’t the only ones taking in the view – a number of couples sat quietly together. Being the only group of two not romantically involved, at first our presence felt a bit out of place. Then again, the presence of the couples meant there were potential photographers to take a picture of Ana and me!

Venturing up Mt. Nittany was difficult, yet at the same time it was fun and rewarding. Seeing Penn State from above was a really neat occurrence. Hiking up the mountain is a great activity to with other –friend or significant other—and I would highly recommend it to anyone. What’s more, after exerting energy to reach the summit and see the gorgeous view, it’s all downhill from there.


As a side note, since I donated blood to the Red Cross, earlier this week I received a letter from them. In it was their appreciation for my donation and a card with my blood type which, as it turns out, is O Negative!


1Hike Mount Nittany. "The Legend of Mount Nittany." 21 March 2012. Web. <http://www.hikemountnittany.com/>. 

Soufflés

This week I decided to venture into the world of baking! Lately I’ve become enthused with the discipline—I love the sweet smells and tastes of baked goods and being able to share them with others. Luckily for me, on campus at Penn State there’s never a shortage of those willing to eat freshly baked goods.

This evening, with the help of some friends, I tried baking soufflés—a lightly baked cake consisted of eggs and various combinations of ingredients. The world ‘soufflé’ comes from the French past participle of the verb ‘souffler’, which means to blow out or blow up. As the name implies, if prepared correctly, when the soufflé comes out of the oven it should be puffed up and fluffy.

Beforehand I wasn’t quite sure what these desserts were, and to me they always seemed complicated. The idea of attempting to make them sounded very French and difficult, but I looked forward to the challenge. I was ready to try baking something personally novel, knowing it could end up as sweet success or bitter defeat.

Our recipe for the evening was for chocolate soufflés. The ingredients sounded simple (eggs, sugar, butter, chocolate morsels, water and lemon juice), and the instructions sounded easy enough. Maybe this wasn’t going to be so bad after all!

We brushed ramekins (a small baking dish used for baking) with butter and sugar, melted and combined ingredients and beat eggs for what seemed hours. After a sink full of dirty dishes and tired arms from holding the beater, we were finally ready to pour out the soufflé batter into the ramekins.

The batter itself was fluffy; it reminded me of the kind used for meringues or angel food cake. We poured the batter to the tops of the ramekins, slid them into the oven, set at 400˚F, and prayed that they would have the fluffiness key to soufflés.

After about 15 minutes we peeked though the oven door to check their progress. We were happy to find that they had risen a significant amount—it was as if they had become inflated balloons!

When they were done baking, we took out the swelled cakes and sprinkled powder sugar on them. Within just a few minutes after being taken out of the oven the soufflés notably deflated.

The recipe called for the soufflés to be served immediately, so with forks in hand my friends and I tentatively delved into the desserts. This was by far the most painful part of the experience—having been in the 400˚F oven for 20 minutes, the soufflés were piping hot and burned our mouths as we tried to taste them. But, through the pain of the hotness, we all tasted the sweetness of our soufflés.

None of us had ever made a soufflé before or, for that matter, eaten one. That being said, none of us had an idea of exactly how a soufflé was supposed to look or taste. Regardless, the ones we made had the fluffiness and tasted delicious. In our opinions, this venture was a success!