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We were having trouble booking tickets online, so An(n)(e) at Jetstar helped us out.
Observe: my name is spelled correctly.
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Pics Or It Didn’t Happen
Hi.
I feel a little like I’ve been standing quietly at a live mic in an empty room for a long while. Oh, there are things to say and hand gestures to gesture, but I’ve been having such trouble organizing my thoughts into brief, entertaining vignettes. So much trouble, in fact, that I can only offer this inexplicable photo taken by someone else to account for the last several months:
Ho-hum.
photo credit: C.DelRio’s photostream
Saigon, or Ho Chi Minh City
Six weeks ago, Justin, Evan, and I were in Vietnam. Today, I uploaded photos from that first day in Saigon. We slurped bowls of phở under a large portrait of former President Bill Clinton, wandered aimlessly, purchased comestibles from different street vendors, and then waited a long time for a very delayed flight to Hanoi.
While wandering, an older man pulled his motorbike onto the sidewalk and stopped in front of our group. He boasted that he was an English teacher, that he was eighty years old, and then said to Justin, “You call me ‘uncle’, and I call you ‘nephew’”. Justin simply called him “sir”, and then we bid him goodbye.
Last Month
March slipped by like a fish. The hot, long days are past, and evening often arrives for tea before I’m ready. The days are getting shorter, and our time here is getting shorter, too. I think there’s a metaphor in there somewhere, the leaving of one sort of home in the autumn and arriving in another sort of home in the spring. Not that we’ve left or arrived anywhere, yet.
Pellegrini’s
This is a short black. It’s basically one shot of espresso. I ordered it after we followed a bride, her groom, their wedding party, and their driver into a pocket-sized cafe, a diner really. Inside, there was a single large menu on the wall and a piece of paper tacked up next to it that said, “A latte is milk. A caffe latte is coffee and milk.” While the wedding party fussed, Justin and I perched on red vinyl stools at the long counter to slurp a bowl of spaghetti. The bride’s dress spilled all over the floor.
A? E? I? O, whatever.
We were having trouble booking tickets online, so An(n)(e) at Jetstar helped us out.
Observe: my name is spelled correctly.
[breakfast at Lorca, Centre Place]
[sneakers and boots, some laneway I forgot to note]
[sunset, taken from the William Barak Bridge]
A Few From Melbourne
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