When I was eighteen, doing a bursary programme in Québec City, there was a wonderful Australian engineering student with whom I was spending vast amounts of time. Although he came to Québec to work at the university and not to study French like the rest of us, he was trying hard to learn the language. We'd curl up and talk quietly on his windowseat alongside his baby pot plants, gaze out the window at the lit-up old cathedral across the cobblestone lane, and he would often smile softly and say, "La vie... c'est bon."
And Chris, you were absolutely right.
Today was an absolute gift; manna from Heaven. I forgot to mention this in a previous posting, but on my second day here, Saint Cat and I went to Target to pick up some clothes for me that would be appropriate for biking around the city in; I'd only packed my pretty, sorely-neglected clothes that I never get a chance to wear when I'm running around with the kids or going to my Ninja classes. While debating whether I should get some really cool Converse sneakers in black and brown suede or some fake Target brand Converse boots that weren't quite as pretty but were half-off, I ended up asking a gorgeous girl her kind opinion. This launched us into a fabulous conversation, and as we were chuckling over something or other, she reached into her bag and passed me a card.
"Look," she said, "The place where I work in Georgetown is having a grand opening party on Thursday night, and I really want you to be there."
I looked at the card, and started laughing. It was Lululemon, a yogawear company that originates out of Vancouver and has its flagship store just a few blocks from where I used to live. Although I originally tried to avoid wearing too much of that brand's clothing for the fact that they so keenly represent the commodification of yoga as a yuppie lifestyle product, I have still somehow ended up with an impressive repertoire of their stuff from friends and family who've been incredibly thoughtful (the clothes are unfortunately quite well-made and are flattering to boot) and generous (as the items are expensive as hell!).
Anyway, slight detour: Back when I was taking an acting class in university, there was one lesson I'd learned and sustained long after my instructor repeated it in a daily litany: "Accept the gift. Accept the gift." And this was a gift. Even if it wasn't something I would normally seek, it was a sweet offering that was as unexpected as it was promising. And since it was in picturesque little Georgetown, it would've been a little adventure in itself just getting there by Metrorail and bus. Thus, my Big, Ambitious Plan (BAP) of the day was to spend the morning reading, then head down to Chinatown for a bowl of soup for dinner, then Georgetown for the Lululemon party and say "hi" to lovely Lisa.
Okay, back on track: Thus, everything initially went as wonderfully as planned. Used the Metrorail for the first time today and found Chinatown. Here are some pictures of things that both amused ~ and saddened ~ me. It seems that Chinatown used to be a rather scary place to be, especially at night, but it's been gentrified to hell by the MCI Center so it's generally safer than ever. At the same time, it's become absolutely inundated with massive chain stores... with Chinese translations.
After finding an authentic little Chinese restaurant where I actually got to order in Cantonese, I had my first bowl of real wonton noodle soup in two years ~ the last time was with my parents in Vancouver right before we moved to Miami. It was simple... and magnificent. Afterwards, I traversed around in the darkened city and eventually found the bus which would take me to Georgetown. After going through a bit of downtown and getting really close to Saint Cat's street (albeit down at the White House end of it), our bus got stuck in perhaps the most atrocious traffic I think I've ever experienced. It took 47 minutes to go two blocks, in which time I wrote two lengthy e-mails, and the air was thrumming with sirens and honking horns... Eventually, I gave up the ghost and decided to screw the party as it obviously wasn't meant to be, hopped off the bus, and proceeded to walk the forty-five minutes back home.
Whereupon I made a most interesting discovery: Walking through groups of young men wearing balaclavas pulled down over their faces and hearing them hiss at me, "Yo, Babe, what's up? Where're you goin' tonight? You wanna give a straddle? You like it? Konichiwa? Konichiwa?" gives me a massive case of the heebies, especially since it's not that cold out. I must confess to running through different kimuras, americanas, and omoplatas (armbars, essentially) in my head, as well as various effective nad-crushing manouevres. Nevertheless, the fact that I'm here typing about it means that it all turned out just fine... but seriously. I was a little freaked.
Anyway, after getting through that debacle, the scariness cleared and then it was a lovely walk through some really amazing parts of town. The edifices lining this street are mind-boggling, and here's one crazy-ass example:
Eventually, I reached U Street, and was immediately entranced by a sudden proliferation of cool old heritage rowhouses on the cross street that seemed to boast funky old cafés and shops... so I did a detour and was given my Ultimate Gifts of the night, and why I was truly meant to go out today:
Drawn into a particular café based solely on its enticing name, I stopped at the Mocha Hut for a hot... er... mocha, and was graced with the sweetest smile from the girl behind the counter. "Y'all here for the open mike tonight? Oh yeah, that's why it's so crrrazy busy! Ya gotta stay!"
Accept the gift... accept the gift...
And so I did. While waiting for it to start, I looked through the local weekly and bookmarked some fun things to do when Supe shows up, like Razzmatazz, the Indie/Britpop/Garage/Post-Punk DJ night at the Black Cat on Saturday night. Consider thyself forewarned... and come forearmed, dear Superstar!!!
Anyway, the warmth, love, and wonderful sense of friendly camaraderie emanating from the patrons of that packed-to-the-gills café was absolutely mindblowing; it was obvious the place was a regular meeting spot for the people in attendence as there were a lot of calls and automatic responses that went on between the host and the audience. After enjoying around five performers, I decided to make my way back home before it got too late and scary (yeah yeah, I know we all look the same, but no more "Hey, hey, Konichiwa" for me please, you fucking creeps), and came across these last treasures of the night:
British Booty, this one's for you. Have fun at Deer Hunter tomorrow night!!! Love you forever, and thanks for the chat tonight!!!
He called himself Deee-licious Ebony, and he was an old sweetie.
A bus ad I really appreciate as it features REAL women!!!
That's all for tonight, my loves, and off I skedaddle for a wonderfully hot shower before Cat gets home from work!!!
xxoo.
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