IT TASTES SOUR, IT TASTES SWEET

When Savage Kitten and I first started going steady neither one of us was well-funded. That, necessarily, put a major crimp on our dates – there isn’t a whole heck of a lot that you can do together when money is tight. In those first few years we took a lot of walks. We’ve probably walked in each other’s company over all of this quadrant of the city. Telegraph Hill, Nob Hill, Russian Hill. The Union Street and Fillmore Street areas. The wharf, Fort Mason, and all over North Beach.

The one place we NEVER walked together was Chinatown. The reason being that she did not want her parents to find out about the relationship. They never would’ve approved of her seeing an impoverished white guy instead of consenting demurely to marry a real-estate owning Chinese American professional who spoke Toishanese.

A stony-broke kwailo snarkmeister living in a flea-bag hotel who spoke Cantonese like a Hong Kong thug was definitely NOT on the programme.

Later, when our finances improved and we had moved in together, we still kept the relationship secret. We would walk all over the city together, but not in Chinatown. Nor even near Chinatown.
Just too damned many people there who knew her parents. It’s like a village in that regard.


PIE?

In the early years we would occasionally head over to Geary Street, ending our jaunt at a coffee shop where they had excellent pie.
There was also a good pie place on Fillmore. As well as a comfy coffee place on Polk with pie. Plus a pie shop on Union. And a very nice breakfast and lunch place on Columbus, with pie.
Pie a la mode, two forks. A cup of coffee, and a cup of hot chocolate with whipped cream.

When our finances improved, there were many more things we could do together. We still took long walks together (though not as regularly), but somehow the pie fell by the wayside. Once in a while I miss the pie, but not very often.
The taste of poverty, for some reason, is easily brought back by pie.

[Much more by spaghetti and instant noodles. It has been nearly nineteen years since I’ve tasted instant noodles. I have no wish to refresh my memory of the taste or texture of instant noodles, they probably haven’t changed much. Buck fifty for a pack of three in assorted flavours, on sale. Used to be half that price. Or even six for a buck.]

A WORLD AFTER PIE

We broke up a few months ago. The split is solid, and we’re never going to be together again as a couple.
But we’re still good friends, and we still take walks together.

Now more often even than when we were lovers.

Some days she just tries to get too much accomplished after work, and there is no time to stroll. But on other evenings we might hike all over Russian Hill and Nob Hill, along streets we’ve known all of our lives….. and even, recently, Chinatown. We’ve crossed the hill at Jackson or Pacific, and gone down to Grant and Stockton. Sat on the benches in the park on Powell.
We've scoped out the menus of eateries on Washington, window shopped on Grant, and stared politely back at tourists……

The past few days we haven’t done that. It was too late, and both of us were tired.

But this evening we will walk together. It will be much earlier than usual.

Tonight we will have dinner.
As friends.
Not all walks have to end in pie.


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