potions_master @ 2003-07-28 06:02:00

Current mood:cynical
Current music:Chang singing about a cell block

How long can I let my mind moulder in this place?
In what was certainly the longest and most arduous portion of our journey, a lesson has been learnt: Muggles are incredibly stupid, and useless.

Due to Miss Chang's continued fear of Apparation, and the confidential nature and time constraints of my assignment, we were forced to endure Muggle transportation from our previous location to our current. I do not enjoy traveling by aeroplane, nor do I intend to repeat it once my mission is completed. Sub-par cuisine, irritating people in drab uniforms pestering you at every turn, and wailing infants are not what I would call a pleasant in-flight experience. Not to mention Miss Chang's persistant utilisation of the air-sickness bags throughout the entirety of the journey. Lilitou fared only slightly better, relegated in her carrier as luggage. I am appalled by the manner in which familiars are treated by these cretins. Appalled.

I believe that we are in a part of the world known as The Midwest, though I do not understand the term. It is neither mid, nor west, but rather a large metropolis that was dropped into the middle of an extremly large cornfield, next to what appears to be a misplaced ocean. Our accomodations are decent enough, what the Muggles call a "five-star," whatever that means.

It must be admitted, here, that Chang is proving herself useful on this particular branch of the journey. As she is a half-blood, she has knowledge of odd Muggle traditions and traits that I do not, and on more than one occasion she has had to handle certain situations, such as the man who brought up our belongings and then refused to leave until Chang handed him some of the ridiculous green currency they use, here. Also, she can operate the television, and was able to make the irritating man with the microphone and his drawling and underdressed subjects go away. It is now a news programme. Very informative. I now know that there is traffic on the Loop and that there's no hope for the Cubs. Certainly, I am a better person for it.

It is extremely warm here. The American accent is wretched and aggravating. I do not like the odors in the air. The buildings are too tall. Why must the taxis continually sound their horns? It is not as if it will make a solid block of automobiles magically move. And just what, may I ask, is the purpose of the small, infuriatingly loud devices Muggles feel compelled to shout into? Have these people never heard of a fireplace? Honestly.

After completing my activities for the day, I paid a visit to a rather extensive museum of art and took a tour under the guide of a young Muggle woman named Tara. Regardless of my opinions of Muggles in general, they do have somewhat of a stranglehold on the fine arts. I was able to admire a Gustave Caillebotte, a Toulouse-Lautrec, and of course, a Seurat, as well as a little of the local flavour. I must admit that I can appreciate this facet of American architecture, however it pales in comparison to other, more superior forms. Tara, to her credit, seemed to agree, and so there is at least one intelligent one in the lot.

While I was bettering myself through culture and creativity, Chang busied herself visiting as many mindless shops as she could find along one of this city's endless avenues. I do not understand the female ability to withstand the tedium of purchasing useless trinkets and baubles. It is a mystery to me more infuriating than the meaning of life.* Perhaps I ought to ask Lupin. I'm sure he has some sort of insight.

It is late, and I have become tired. I shall have tea sent up, and perhaps I will try some of this odd food concoction Chang brought in. She calls it 'deep-dish,' which is another Muggle oxymoron - it is not deep nor is it in a dish. She insists that is quite palatable, but this is also the same witch who voluntarily consumed the little packet of peanuts on the aeroplane. I do not think I ought to trust her judgement.

Especially now that she is doing the tango with an oversized pillow. I must finish this entrry, and deal with it.


*To irritate me, it would seem.


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