Friday, July 07, 2023

AND MAYBE A DISCARDED MATTRESS

Urban residents are accustomed to neat lines. Without thinking about it, a canal yields a more comforting sense to some of us than untamed nature. It is orderly, and controlled, instead of wild and possibly disruptive. It says that all is well with the world, things are predictable, and there are no alligators going to rise up and snatch our poodle.

Yeah, okay, that's an exxageration, and betrays that unlike many Californians I grew up somewhere else, a more neurotic place. And I'll admit that I also like rivers, streams, and waterfalls. But I cannot imagine a restaurant terrace next to a big river rushing through the city were one might be comfortable snarfing down a local specialty. A canal-side cafe, yes.
An old building, perhaps, with wooden door panels stretching the length of the front.
Weather beaten tables, cane chairs. Small glass jars of chili paste.
Bottles of soy sauce so necessary for the tourists.
Or, in Europe, Maggi.

Two tables over an old man is smoking.
Dark shag, strong, handrolled.

Hot beverages.
燜肉麵 ('mun yiuk min') slow simmered meat with noodles in broth. Breakfast OR lunch. Or a late afternoon snack. Sunlight. The weather is just about room temperature, and there may be light rain later. Twilight takes longer in northern climes.
It is very bright outside.


Could be the Grand Canal (京杭大運河 'king hong taai wan ho' ) in Jiangsu (江蘇 'gong sou'), could be the Kloveniersburgwal near the Oudmanhuispoort, half a block or so distant from the poetry bookshop. Dutch has some phenomenal poetry. English lacks a bit. A youtube video my apartment mate was watching last night had some laudatory doggerel about Canada, which was absolute bollocks. Dreadful, quite.


The water is like a mirror, barely moving.
Minor flotsam drifts past.



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1 comment:

Anonymous said...

The land near the Columbia River in Oregon is home to a number of small communities, of which some also have breweries or grills nearby. It is a massive river and the sound of the water is ever-present while quaffing down a pint and munching down grilled meat. It is a site to behold. At least once. Sadly, I detected no tea restaurants in my travels in that state. Portland’s Chinatown is devoid of any Chinese people whatsoever, much less their restaurants.

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