AVOID THE MIGRATING BIRDS

Sadly, we don't have crocodiles in San Francisco. Otherwise we would love them, walk them on leashes, and coddle them like children. And feed the tourists to them, probably. When I walked by one of my favourite dumpling places it was packed with tourists. One could tell that they were tourists, because they were pudgy, very white, and in family groups.
Mah, Pah, the three or four kiddies, and the pet goldfish.

So I headed to the other one. Where there were also tourists, but they were quite a bit more bearable, being two college boys from Florida, dressed cleanly, eating with chopsticks, and quietly exchanging ideas from their cellular devices on where to go next.

My lunch was excellent.

Small white cabbage and pork dumplings (白菜豬肉水餃) ordered in Mandarin, which I speak fairly badly. Eaten there, and generously tipped. That last because I really do like being a valued customer. Both at the time and when I'm there next.
The people there are from the North.
Hence Mandarin.

Yes yes. Delicious! After leaving I lit my pipe and headed in a direction in which there would likely be no visitors. The financial district was empty today. More than before covid.

Coldish. Not very windy. Only mid fifties.
That's positively springlike.
In Reykjavik.


All the visitors are going home tomorrow, probably.



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