We spent most of July in Paris. It was ok. I suppose it would have been better if I spoke the language and actually liked French food. About half of our meals ended up being Korean. The rest was Chinese (real stuff, not that repulsive Frenchized Chinese food), Italian, Thai, Vietnamese, Ethiopian, Turkish, and yes, a couple of expensive, lousy French meals. With access to such fresh, fantastic ingredients, the French really aught to figure out how to cook.
If you weren’t aware, they do things real different over there. Artistically, trucks are a popular canvas:
Last month we walked around Chicago. It was cold and rainy, and the kids were full of ice cream. Hoping to warm her body and soul Asia pushed for a tour of the art museum, especially when she heard her old friend Vince would be hanging around.
Asia and Vince finally meet.
Later we found ourselves driving through Chicago’s West Side. One day I will make it to Alabama Kitchen and Yo Mama’s for pizza, but not before I buy some dirt cheap life insurance.
Hold the chitlins please.
All that driving made me hungry for Korean food. While I consider myself to be a man of the world, I was not man enough to order the Yang Jok Tang.
Yum!
On our way out of town we hit the “New” Maxwell Street Market and then went to the old neighborhood for some Mario’s.
No, I don't want to buy your stolen tools. But I would like a taco or three.
There is nothing that cannot be had at the “New” Sunday Maxwell Street Market…miles of produce, tools of questionable origin, fab tacos, luchador masks, and every bootleg hat imaginable. I’d say it even beats the Parisian markets. Oh, and if your arms aren’t too tired from carrying home a load of crap, there are some sweet pimp suits for sale across the street on Roosevelt. Gotta get me three of those next time I’m in town.
Every girl is crazy about a sharp dressed man.
Can't leave town without a visit to Mario's...
*Many thanks to my niece Henna and her awesome husband for hanging out with us all day in Chicago…and for snapping the meeting between Asia and Vince.
Five years ago my doctor told me I had five years left on my knees. So I bought a dog and got a new doctor. That doc wore a fanny pack, so it’s not like I could take him all that seriously. Anyways, as I was saying, I bought a dog and began walking the mountainous streets of West View. These days I plan my route around mulberry bushes. Yum! Hopefully no one narcs because nothing is easier than catching a mulberry thief. Purple-stained hands and face are a solid indicator of wrongdoing.
Yesterday I was walking the mutt when I saw a four year old boy and girl fighting. I couldn’t tell if it was a real fight or a play fight, but they were going at it real good. Such is life on the streets of West View. Seeing the dog they shelved their differences and the girl asked, “What kind of dog is that?”
“A havenese”, I replied.
“Cooooooool”, the boy said, “Are you a vampire?”
“How did you know?”, I said.
“I can see your fangs”, he said. And on I walked.
After a minute I figured it out. I’m two weeks away from getting my braces off. Until then I have rubber bands in my mouth. Apparently this causes four-year-old’s with just the right combination of dimness/perceptiveness to assume these are fangs.
