The weather: Cloudy, with occasional rain. High: Around 70. Dewpoint: high 60's. The air is clammy, but tonight we have a nice cross breeze here in our apartment. It's a renovated shotgun style: long and narrow, with great air flow from open windows on the north facing the harbor and on the south facing the street. Back before air conditioning this was the way to keep cooler.
Something I liked about being here: Being able to spontaneously talk to Terry whenever we have something to say to each other. I've been here a month now and this is still a greatly appreciated simple pleasure, after we've lived apart quite a bit these last few years.
Something I missed about home today: Safe drinking water out of the faucet.
Frustrating experience: I bought 2 apples at the grocery store. The clerk didn't know the unit price and called out to a co-worker. I told her 3.9. Twice. In Cantonese. She didn't hear me. Wouldn't even look at me. Yesterday I bought 2 of the same kind of apples at the same store. That clerk didn't know the price, either, and asked me how much. "Saam gau," I said. And she had understood me. Yay!
Supper menu: Garbanzo bean-spinach-potato patties, and stir-fried cabbage and carrots. Yes, sounds odd, but it actually was OK. The garbanzo idea was another of my invented entrees, not great but not a disaster. I really should stick to recipes, but I've gotta get lucky sometime with one of my experiments!
Something interesting I read today: "Making It in America", an article by Adam Davidson (from NPR's Planet Money) in the Jan.-Feb. Atlantic Monthly. He writes about the future of manufacturing jobs in the U.S., what work will and will not go to China-Mexico-cheaper production venues, and the bleak future for unskilled workers in the U.S.
Something I wondered about: What my dad would think if I left out food on a Chinese altar on the sidewalk for him, an honored departed ancestor. Today I saw a woman putting out a very generous plate of neatly sliced braised beef (chopsticks arranged alongside) and 4 huge, perfect apples in a bowl, all on a small table right next to the building. As I was walking down the sidewalk toward her I watched her bow several times toward the table as she was holding a piece burning rolled-up brown paper. I think Dad would be uncomfortable with the attention and with the impracticality of this tradition. He'd probably prefer that you honor him by working hard at something that mattered. But he'd also be curious about this cultural phenomenon.
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