The Persistence Of Memory, Or, Another Surrealist Experience In The Deep South
So they put on this international food fair thing a few Friday nights ago, down at Metro Park. Food and people from all over the world. This had the unfortunate effect of reminding me how much i miss being all over the world. But on the plus side, it was tasty.
Besides, there's still nothing quite like the sheer novelty of cross-cultural conversation. I never get tired of the way different countries have personalities all their own. As we ate our way around, it made me miss our international friends all the more. We talked to everyone. You'd never believe how much you miss when you just get your food and walk away.
The Peruvians made us sample their special beef heart kebabs. The Norwegians proudly showed us not only their six-toed dogs, but also the large Viking boat they row in local races. Normally i would have assumed this was a joke (the rowing; i could count the toes) but as this is North Florida, i had already noted them stalking around in their bathrobes and helmets after the maritime Christmas parade. They were very jolly, but people tended to stay out of their way.
The Venezuelans (attractive people all, doing their bit to further the legend) made us empanadas as good as any i've had. A Haitian cook gave us extra fried plantains when she found out i'd been to St. Marc. But i think my favorite tent of all was the Dominican Republic. It was dim and dusty, just palm fronds holding up the starlit dark. And there wasn't much food at all, because the Dominicans - as is only right for people who make music like that - were far too busy dancing.
Reminders can be strange. Most times, i know little times like that are what keep me going. But sometimes, i think they do more damage than they're worth.
Besides, there's still nothing quite like the sheer novelty of cross-cultural conversation. I never get tired of the way different countries have personalities all their own. As we ate our way around, it made me miss our international friends all the more. We talked to everyone. You'd never believe how much you miss when you just get your food and walk away.
The Peruvians made us sample their special beef heart kebabs. The Norwegians proudly showed us not only their six-toed dogs, but also the large Viking boat they row in local races. Normally i would have assumed this was a joke (the rowing; i could count the toes) but as this is North Florida, i had already noted them stalking around in their bathrobes and helmets after the maritime Christmas parade. They were very jolly, but people tended to stay out of their way.
The Venezuelans (attractive people all, doing their bit to further the legend) made us empanadas as good as any i've had. A Haitian cook gave us extra fried plantains when she found out i'd been to St. Marc. But i think my favorite tent of all was the Dominican Republic. It was dim and dusty, just palm fronds holding up the starlit dark. And there wasn't much food at all, because the Dominicans - as is only right for people who make music like that - were far too busy dancing.
Reminders can be strange. Most times, i know little times like that are what keep me going. But sometimes, i think they do more damage than they're worth.
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