M and E picked up the dress shirts and pants that they had made, E ordered a jacket and was a champ at kanjia; she totally got her price. Afterwards, we all cabbed to Xintiandi for some exquisite and expensive Taiwanese style dumplings. Later, N, E and I went to Ikea, which was the same as the Renton Ikea only less people speaking Russian. E was embarassed to drag me along to Ikea, and N just dreads the place, but I thought going there was going to be important for me in the very near future. I learned how to say "Ikea" in Chinese, and I also learned which subway line it's on. Veery important. We bought some basket racks, cabbed them over to the school, and then set them up. It was two dudes doing the same job, so of course it was a race, although neither of us said so.
Once the basket racks were built, N and I went to Carrefour to prepare a salad for a new faculty potluck. We helped a colleague get some wine; I used my pidgin Mandarin to find some plastic cups and napkins. I also managed to get the wine lady to remind me the word for "Portugal," although I know it made her really uncomfortable to talk to me, a foreigner. She tried to get out off it by saying she didn't understand English. I was, of course, totally speaking Mandarin and I did not let her off the hook until she repeated the word "Portugal."
N and I chilled a little at his place, and then we made a salad for the potluck. They don't have a big salad bowl, so we put the salad in a pot. Instead of mixing the salad, we piled the tomatoes, carrots, cheese cubes, and grapes into quadrants. There's a picture.
We ended up walking in the rain, late to the potluck. As my umbrella is basically only for cocktails, we each had one shoulder that was totally drenched when we arrived. When I whipped out the umbrella, of course there was a woman standing there trying to look cool.
After the faculty potluck, we went to someone's house for a delightful evening of beautiful Central Asian carpets and wine. I talked with S and G about the Church, the anti-war movement, the sixties, Rome...
Now I'm in Starbucks, waiting for M to come pick me up. We are going to mass. Ask me later about a secret cardinal. More later...
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"Love is a pilgrimage; it keeps moving." That's a line from the sermon I heard this morning. I was surprisingly moved at mass today, not because the service was in anyway distinct, but moreso because everyone was there. One thing I noticed, the music was super Filipino. All in English of course, but the composition style of sweet melodies, no fear of high notes, and a coy little jazz decision here and there was unmistakable.
I said goodbye to M/J and little J; little J didn't want to give me a hug, so I just patted him on the back and said I'd see him in October. Before I could make it onto the street, little J and M came chasing after me; little J apparently had a change of heart and was ready to give me a hug. But then nope, changed his mind again. That's ok, kid, you don't have to hug me today!
I said goodbye and met N back in his classroom, and helped him agonize over decorating his classroom. I tried to be helpful, but it's not a topic I have a lot of energy for.
For lunch we walked over to a new bbq restaurant that just opened up. I went straight back to the table, but N had to do a double take at the bar. Apparently there was an African American man with a drink at the bar, and behind him on the wall hung the Stars and Bars. N was visibly irritated by the flag. We all three were irritated by the prices and the slow service. The potato salad, however, was totally enjoyable.
I think N regretted that we didn't walk out after we saw the flag. Now that I think about it, we should have. I will send an email.
After that, it was taxi to the subway, to the train station. The next train is a little before six; it's 3:30 now, and I'm sitting in a cafe overlooking the train station plaza, drinking a beer-looking iced tea from a glass that's shaped like a boot.
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