Quite a nice album that was from Robert Wyatt also, with
Paul Weller, Brian Eno, Phil Manzanera, and Dave Sinclair all appearing.
I was hoping I could convince my friend to make me get out
and explore, so I could greedily exploit her eyeballs, but alas we just chilled
at my apartment, relatively speaking. Come to think of it, Chi N was looking
for her glasses for quite some time. I think the occasion was she needed to see
better so she could more efficiently look around for her glasses. Always keep a
second pare for this purpose if you are burdened with high-functioning eyes.
That’s what four eyes are for.
After we said goodbye, I made some progress with my bold independent
exploration, I am happy to let you know. With the help of Google Map and my
ability to say “coffee, no?” in Vietnamese, I managed to mosey down the western
West Lake-Skirting Quang An street to a 24-hour coffee place. I’m starting to
think it would’ve been good to have some idea as to what to say after I got
there, but I did score a Dong 25k ice coffee (slightly more than $1). The cup
of ice cubes they gave me with the coffee liquified in 10 minutes or there-abouts.
I can thank Gabby Morritt for teaching me post hoc how to order
what I actually got at the place. At least I know how to count, and I know how
to navigate a coffee cup.
‘Nothing too gracefully’ has been my philosophy when it
comes to my resignation to just push myself out the door and explore places and
buy things in spite of my timorousness, everyone else’s discomfort, and,
perhaps most of all, my extremely bare-bones Vietnamese. This may just take the
form of me showing up at a shop, and having very little to say before an assumed
proprietor determines to provide assistance. I did have the gumption and wisdom
to think of what I would purchase at the supermarket before an excursion several
days ago, and to get Google’s translations of the items onto the screen of my
phone to present to a store employee. There were embarrassed giggles and chidings
among a few employees at the supermarket, but I did come home with most of what
I sought to buy, the novel journey, and the material success -- the humble booty
-- has been adequate consolation. As I’ve told folks, shopping in the U.S. with
native English speakers that apparently never shop at their own place of employment
as my assistance, isn’t robustly more comfortable. “Nothing too gracefully”
kind of stems from these roots, and really it is my self-exoneration in
situations where I have limited ability to make actions and interactions, wheeling’s
and dealings look all nice and tidy and elegant. If I can bring home some kind
of tea, who could ask for much more? I even brought home things I can survive
on when the tea-euphoria wares off, like greens, mushrooms, tofu, sauce,
noodles... I realize I cannot wash myself with this plastic soap dish though –
that was supposed to be a bar of soap.
Anyway, as per the coffee shop – a reasonably lickadee split
walk strait down a main road from my apartment block for perhaps 1.5 kilometers.
Had a peaceful stare out over hồ Tây–
the West Lake for a while. My previous two strolls along the lakeside, and apparently
still decent spatial memory meant I made it back directly with no hiccups. Didn’t
get lost once. Didn’t die once. Not too bad. It’d be nice if streets had actual
pedestrian paths here, but I’m sure the embrace of their absence will get
pounded into my head severely over time.
Note to smash up some sesame, peanuts, and sault for food
purposes, and also to buy a mortar and pestle.
