And I thought it was a pretty normal birthday...

It started out like any other day, although I did sleep in. It rained; I taught, had a coffee and read a book; went to the Museum of Natural History on my weekly museum date (it's a great museum, actually, and they had some great Canada exhibits that made me homesick); and relaxed at home for a bit. Then, my expat friend Daniel and his girlfriend Kirsten took me out for dinner.

We went to a Sri Lankan restaurant near the downtown part of Milan. I can't tell you how happy I was to eat pappadum and curry after weeks and weeks of doughy pizza, plates of pasta, and my own cooking which has become variations on a theme: some sort of stew with tomatoes and beans over rice or some other grain because that is all I find palateable-- the selection, especially of vegetables, in the grocery stores is sadly limited.

THe interior was warm, wood-panelled and painted in reds and mustard yellow, and decorated with statues of the Hindu gods. Everyone on staff was south Indian or Sri Lankan and the clientele was mixed; for a few hours, I forgot we were in Italy. We could have been anywhere, really. I have been in similar restaurants in London, the other London, Toronto, Montreal.

The food was good -- not the best Indian I have ever had but I think that's the fault of the ingredients and not the chef. We shared 4 types of vegetable curry -- a dahl (slightly too salty, not enough garam masala or maybe none); a raita (would have been good if the other food was spicy; raita is a cold vegetable dish made with minted yogurt); and a potato curry and a coconut curry. I wished for more spice in everything, but it was such a welcome change from the usual tomato and cheese, salt and oil flavours that it was perfect as it was.

About halfway through the meal we heard the sound of a drum and in came a very graceful young Sri Lankan boy who performed a truly beautiful traditional dance, in what I assume to be traditional costume. A little later he returned with a partner, a girl, and they did two other dances throughout the course of the meal. We were the most enthusiastic viewers by far; the dances seemed to have such clear stories and we were dying to know what they were. The movements were a corss between traditional Indian dance, which you may know from many pop culture outlets, and Chinese traditional dance, with the stiff yet gracefully curved back and neck and careful head movements.

And you can't say you've had a birthday til you've had your birthday dessert heralded by a cowbell and brought to you with the lights dimmed, the whole restuarant clapping rhythmically until you blow out the candle. Not a cake but a delicious assortment of Sri Lankan sweets, it was perfect, and I liked the perfectly browned macaroon best.

Now I can say I rang out my first quarter century... really. More cowbell, please!