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Tanka challenge 4/14/12
Apr. 14th, 2012 10:40 pmI crest the hill to
The sinuous notes of strings
Delicately bowed.
Across the road our eyes meet
I drop a note in his case.
I know him only as "The Erhu Guy." He's usually sitting on Grant Street in the shadow of Old St. Mary's Cathedral.
Why, yes, I was in Chinatown this morning. James and Sylvia wanted to meet and go to Japantown, but weren't going to get into San Francisco until noon. I was up early, antsy after days or rain and wanting to break in my new sports sandals which are quite comfy, but have a bit of a squeak. So I took BART to Montgomery Street and walked up to Chinatown. At 10 AM Grant Street isn't too much of a madhouse. I mostly just walked around, though I did end up buying some earrings for myself and some for presents. (I made the mistake of admiring some very expensive jade, but fortunately was able to beg off.) I also took a couple architectural photos, then hiked all the way down California Street to Market Street in time to meet James and Sylvia. We walked back up Market to Geary and caught a bus up to Japantown.
In Japan, hanami means going out to view the cherry blossoms. You pack a picnic, you go to some place where there are trees, you sit under them and enjoy the day. In America, we have cherry blossom festivals, which are less about enjoying flowering trees and more about celebrating Japanese heritage. We wandered around a bit, and after surveying a crapton of people selling tee shirts and walking through the food area (the takoyaki stand has now substituted fish cake for ground beef, which still ain't octopus in my book), James announced that he'd never actually eaten in a Benihana. Sylvia ran across and got us on the lunch list while I pounced on a $15 white silk juban with a few stains - the silk had a snake scale pattern in the weave and I figure I can let it out, re-shape the sleeves, put a new silk collar on it and re-dye the sucker to wear under some of my period stuff.
One hibachi-style lunch later (which James treated us on), we walked through the mall, checked out an ikebana exhibition and a tea ceremony demonstration that was narrated by a woman with a heavy accent and monotone delivery in an overly warm room.
Seeing the hordes mounting the 38 bus heading east, we ended up walking down to Powell Street and catching BART back to the East Bay, then piling into my truck (a tight fit, but James is skinny so it mostly works) and going to Fenton's Creamery for dinner and ice cream. (Non-locals, this is the ice cream parlor referenced by the little boy in "Up." It exists, it's usually mobbed and for good reason.)
The sinuous notes of strings
Delicately bowed.
Across the road our eyes meet
I drop a note in his case.
I know him only as "The Erhu Guy." He's usually sitting on Grant Street in the shadow of Old St. Mary's Cathedral.
Why, yes, I was in Chinatown this morning. James and Sylvia wanted to meet and go to Japantown, but weren't going to get into San Francisco until noon. I was up early, antsy after days or rain and wanting to break in my new sports sandals which are quite comfy, but have a bit of a squeak. So I took BART to Montgomery Street and walked up to Chinatown. At 10 AM Grant Street isn't too much of a madhouse. I mostly just walked around, though I did end up buying some earrings for myself and some for presents. (I made the mistake of admiring some very expensive jade, but fortunately was able to beg off.) I also took a couple architectural photos, then hiked all the way down California Street to Market Street in time to meet James and Sylvia. We walked back up Market to Geary and caught a bus up to Japantown.
In Japan, hanami means going out to view the cherry blossoms. You pack a picnic, you go to some place where there are trees, you sit under them and enjoy the day. In America, we have cherry blossom festivals, which are less about enjoying flowering trees and more about celebrating Japanese heritage. We wandered around a bit, and after surveying a crapton of people selling tee shirts and walking through the food area (the takoyaki stand has now substituted fish cake for ground beef, which still ain't octopus in my book), James announced that he'd never actually eaten in a Benihana. Sylvia ran across and got us on the lunch list while I pounced on a $15 white silk juban with a few stains - the silk had a snake scale pattern in the weave and I figure I can let it out, re-shape the sleeves, put a new silk collar on it and re-dye the sucker to wear under some of my period stuff.
One hibachi-style lunch later (which James treated us on), we walked through the mall, checked out an ikebana exhibition and a tea ceremony demonstration that was narrated by a woman with a heavy accent and monotone delivery in an overly warm room.
Seeing the hordes mounting the 38 bus heading east, we ended up walking down to Powell Street and catching BART back to the East Bay, then piling into my truck (a tight fit, but James is skinny so it mostly works) and going to Fenton's Creamery for dinner and ice cream. (Non-locals, this is the ice cream parlor referenced by the little boy in "Up." It exists, it's usually mobbed and for good reason.)
