As part of my job, I regularly travel and over the last couple of years or so, I've been traveling pretty often. I've had the privilege to travel pretty widely across the US and abroad and I fully know how fortunate I am to have this opportunity. While sometimes exhausting, it's a perk for me to get to go to some pretty cool places, meet a variety of people, and see and do some amazing things. I've also broadened my personal travel, largely due to the overall comfort level I've developed with travel in general, thanks to my job. Like lots of other people, I post pics to social media here and there of my travels and I'm sure it can look quite glamorous at times. Being totally honest, sometimes it is. 🙂 I've been to some exceptional restaurants where I have enjoyed some spectacular meals. I've embraced the notion of trying all sorts of new foods and most of it has been delicious. I've picked up phrases and bits in all sorts of other languages (jack of all trades, master of none), learned things about various cultures, and best of all, I have had many incredible experiences and seen many iconic/historic/inspiring things. Like the Colosseum and other antiquities in Rome, the Parthenon and the Acropolis in Athens, the Eiffel Tower and so much more in Paris, the beaches where we stormed the shore on D-Day in WWII, the Empire State Building, the wonders of Yellowstone National Park, the beaches of Hawaii, Big Ben and Windsor Palace in England, the Liberty Bell, the Golden Gate Bridge, and Anne Frank's house in Amsterdam. As incredible as those experiences and sights have been, the process of getting to and from these places is anything but glamorous. Whoever said "getting there is half the fun" never had to fly smushed up in an economy seat for 9+ hours. For me, being there (or being back home) is 100% of the fun. Getting there and back is just a necessary evil until we invent a better form of travel. Question: The author probably believes that: === The answer to the above question is

OPTIONS:
- Travel is a waste of time
- Travel is worth it despite the hassles
- Airlines are the best part of travel
- not enough information

Answer: Travel is worth it despite the hassles

Problem: OPTIONS:
- not enough information
- Sandra
- Jon
- Daven
Q: Jon's back ached. Frost had come early this year and the ground broke like stone. Jon had spent eight seasons breaking this ground to plant spring's crops and every year it got harder. Sweat beaded on his brow and he felt his cotton shirt stick to his skin under his coat. Jon took off his soft-brimmed hat and wiped his forehead. He examined the hat as he let his breath return. The hat had kept the burning sun and beating rain off his head for as long as Jon owned the farm. He wore it every day. It had been a gift given to him on the day he married Alasandra but he could not remember who gave it to him. Jon put it back on his head and pushed the tiller deep into the stubborn earth. Daven ran over the hill and down the cart path leading to their small cobblestone house. The boy had only left a short while ago and he held no sack with the bread and cheese his mother had told him to buy. Jon furrowed his brow. The boy continued to run and soon the wind carried his cry to his father's ears. "Papa! A carriage is coming! Two horses!" Jon's furrowed brow remained. Surely the boy meant a cart from a neighboring farm. No carriage made it out this far. "It's from the city! A soldier drives it!" Jon felt ice water flow over him. He turned to the house. "Sandra! Get the musket out of the pantry!" Jon saw his wife's face appear at one foggy window. Jon gestured wildly at her. "Get it!" They were too late. As Daven reached Jon, the black carriage already approached. A single figure sat on the bench, guiding the two brown horses down Jon's path. Question: Who says to get the musket out of the pantry? === The answer to the above question is
Answer: Sandra

input with options: Once, while grating potatoes to make potato pancakes, I had a Proustian moment. I can't lay claim to much in the way of literary knowledge, but I do know that Proust's 'Remembrance of Things Past' was prompted by his biting into a pastry and feeling a sense of overwhelming pleasure with no recognizable cause. In my case, I was instantly transported back to the grandmother's kitchen as she and my mother grated potatoes in order to make 'poutine rapee', also known as 'poutines'. People will immediately flash to the Quebecker ethnic food known by the same name. However, in spite of all the Franco-culinary posturing, this is really only French Fries with gravy and, oh yeah, can I have some cheese curds on that? One etymological source indicates that 'poutine' really means 'mess'. If you come from my part of the country, the Quebecker poutine is just another entry in the long list of dishes that will cause you to keel over from a myocardial infarction while shoveling a foot of snow out of the driveway shortly after you've retired; sometimes before. Nope, poutines as I know them are a different creature entirely. They seem to be more of an Acadian thing and none of my friends had even heard of them, much less eaten a single one. Because of the work involved, my mother only made poutines for special times: Christmas, say or Easter. My mother would borrow this grater that was about two feet long and she and my grandmother would set to work. Generally, they started off with an enormous paper sack of potatoes, about 25 pounds or so (We used to buy potatoes by the cartload and store them in a wooden bin in the basement. Because we were cheap labour, the kids would be sent down to retrieve a few for the family meal. It was creepy to descend into the dank cellar, feel our way through the dim obstacle course formed by my grandfather's thousands of tools and bits of wood and locate the bin. After a time in storage, the eyes on potatoes began to sprout pale tendrils and it didn't take much imagination to visualize all kinds... Question: What probably made the children visualize unpleasant creatures and monsters? === The answer to the above question is
OPTIONS:
- imagination
- reality
- magic
- not enough information
output:
imagination