Floriday....a Florida Holiday

In the fine tradition of the more well-off residents of Michigan, I am heading to Florida for a few days to soak up some sun, so as to be able to make it through the rest of this snowy winter. My Seattle sister, her husband, and their two daughters will be travelling there for a conference for my brother-in-law's job, and I will be staying with them on the beach. I can't wait to see the girls. The last time I saw them was at our wedding in October, and at this age children develop so quickly. The 3 year old is already talking so much more than a few months ago, and I can't wait to talk about first grade with the oldest! I bought a swimsuit at Nordstrom, a store that caters to the snowbird. I hope to have some cute pictures to post next week! Bon voyage...

A Date Downtown

Fiance and I went on a rare date last night (to put it in perspective, before last night, our dating life was scheduled to be placed on the Endangered Species List). He won tickets to a Red Wings game at work, so the destination was downtown Detroit. To begin the night, we decided to take in a word-of-mouth favorite, Slows BarBQue. Apparently, famous people like the Rolling Stones and Bill Clinton consider it a must-go when in Detroit (and I ask you, when in Detroit? Not since I've lived here!). Anyways, I am not so foolish as to ignore a commendation from Bill Clinton regarding homestyle eats, so we Googlemapped our way to Corktown, the Irish neighborhood downtown where Slows is located. Slows faces the deserted and barb-wired Michigan Central Station, a building which never fails to fill me with awe (and regret that it sits there abandoned).

The picture, by yours truly, is shaky, a result of not using a flash or something, I don't know, I am terrible at taking photographs. It's hard to see, but some tagger lacking a fear of heights or an instict for self-preservation sprayed "Save the Depot" near the top of the building. Slows is basically surrounded by rundown buildings and small businesses that don't look too booming...I guess some years ago this is where my Irish family would have congregated, had I grown up in Detroit, but now it doesn't look like too many people consider this as a destination neighborhood for much other than barbeque.

At Slows, Fiance and I had The Best Macaroni and Cheese Ever There Was. I will not accept any comparisons or alternate best-mac'n'cheese comments from anybody unless they first taste Slows' mac'n'cheese, end of story...that is an open invitation to meet me at Slows to resolve any debate. I felt a strong urge to photograph my own plate of mac'n'cheese after taking a few bites, to commemorate the event, but was frankly too embarrassed. So I finished it off, along with amazing ribs and brisket, and washed it all down with some local microbrews. I unfortunately had to change my plans for dessert, due to extreme fullness...I was so disappointed I had to pass on the Chuck Norris, a dessert that will kick you in the face! (If my dear readers would like to see a picture of the famous mac'n'cheese or the much-desired Chuck, check out http://www.slowsbarbq.com/.) The place was packed with red-clad diners who'd had the same idea as us. We finished up and waddled to the car to proceed the mile and a half (can't walk after eating that food!) to Joe Louis to watch the Wings...lose to the San Jose Sharks in a shootout.

I looovve going to hockey games! And it is even better when you have good seats, row 16 in our case, right behind the goal. After pro baseball, pro hockey is my favorite in-person spectator sport (sorry football - though this statement excludes Longhorns football, which actually trumps baseball and hockey). And Red Wings fans are crazy...a lot of them are little old ladies, who fit into the cute but crazy category. Detroit is Hockeytown U.S.A., after all. Though the Wings lost, it was a great time, and a great date! And to top it off, we were able to get out of the Joe parking garage in less than 2 minutes, an amazing coup upon which I still marvel!

This little boy waved his hat around the whole game to get on the Jumbotron, mission accomplished toward the end of the 3rd period...hooray!

Back in Business

It's been over a month since I posted, and this time I am not going to make that empty promise to post more frequently, because right now, I know that is unrealistic. What I will say is that I will make an effort to post more than once a month, and hopefully write at least once a week (again, possibly unrealistic). So there. My explanation for slacking is that I've started working more often-balancing my chosen career with the waitressing job-and have actually begun the process of really working on our wedding.

The wedding planning so far (after already getting a caterer and venue) has entailed fun stuff like looking for a dress and figuring out decorations, but this coming week is about locking in lodgings, and officiant, and entertainment. Scary stuff, but we're ready! So there, B, that is the wedding update! Not so exciting yet, but I hope to post some good stuff soon (though the best place to look is the wedding website, or the phone of course!).

To catch up since my last post, the month started with a trip to D.C., courtesy of my dad. We met there for an annual meeting of his specialty professional group, and I learned a lot about a very interesting area of work (that he thinks would be great for me to get into, and that is quite a hot-button issue in Detroit-labor unions). I enjoyed the meeting, though I struggled at times to understand what was being discussed. You think you know what's what about things, that you can wrap your mind around anything given a few minutes to digest it, until you step outside your little patch of the world and find seemingly infinite worlds of information, practice, and belief; which leads me to my favorite quote to sum up living in this universe: "The complexity of things - the things within things - just seems to be endless. I mean nothing is easy, nothing is simple." Apologies to Alice Munro if I misquoted!

I throw that one out there when I need a wise soul to commiserate with over our overly-complicated world. Maybe a simpler quote, from a certifiable wise soul, is "There are more things in heaven and earth...than are dreamt of in your philosophy." (If unsure of origin, drop everything and read Hamlet now.)

When I wasn't participating with my father in meetings, or contemplating the cosmos (see above), we sure made good use of our time. A VIP tour of Congress; a trip through the National Gallery (see an art critic contemplating, below); an (always fun) train ride to and dinner in Alexandria, breakfast at the Mayflower; touring of Ford Theater (where President Lincoln was shot, and where Dad and I did our best to blend in with the enthusiastic Japanese tourists); chamomile tea with the Dolly Madison (or a very good historical reenactress); not to mention our awesome launching point at the Hay-Adams Hotel (the only better place would have been the White House a hundred yards to the south of where we laid our heads after a long day).

I went to D.C. once before, with my older sister. We stayed in Maryland and took the train in that time. I have some words of advice when it comes to touring D.C. Stay in the city because it saves you that travel time, especially if you are a chronic morning dallier, like me. And if possible (and by the way, I did not pay for my own flight, so take this advice with a grain of salt and a peak into the pocketbook), fly into National (a.k.a. Reagan, if you thought trickle-down economics worked). You can take the train to the city in fifteen minutes from National! Try that from Dulles or Baltimore, just try it! Final word of advice: see the Mall in daylight, sunset, and at night. But especially at night, when those miles of white marble shine through the darkness, when Lincoln's temple looks its most lincoln-y, when the Washington Monument shines with possibilities reaching to the stars, and when the energied rush of the city has taxied off to the suburbs or to heat up the streets of Georgetown, allowing you to contemplate your country at its symbolic and political beating heart.

D.C. has an Eastern Market, which we did not go to, but that apparently bears some similarity to the farmers and artisans market of the Eastern Market of Detroit, one of my favorite places in my home city. Yesterday, the Fiance and I took his sister and her two children, and his brother and brother's girlfriend to the market. They all seemed to like it - what's not to like? There is something for everyone! I bought some butternut squash, swiss chard, and a big basket of carrots for about half what it would have cost at the grocery store (all told maybe $3.50). And shopping accompanied by live music and people-watching rather than cart-bashing. But alas, Good Girls Go to Paris was not at the market (maybe because it's getting chilly?), so instead of crepes we ate at the Russell Street Deli right by the market sheds, which was awesome! I had an Avocado Melt, continuing my trend of ordering my meal around the inclusion of either avocado or goat cheese. This deli was right up my alley: real maple syrup and no high fructose corn syrup!!

But before our foray to the Eastern Market, and after returning to Detroit from D.C., my mom came to visit me here. I don't think she was exactly impressed with the city, but we had hard time with some logistics. We go to a store on Monday to read a sign "closed Mondays," etc., etc.! And she bemoaned all the driving that had to be done in the suburban sprawl of Motor City. We did get to the U of M v. Purdue game. That was fun. I love college football - if pro football had marching bands I might say the same of it. Other than the game and a brief foray into Detroit (with a stop on the interesting Belle Isle - I definitely will go back), we mostly hung out and talked, always a nice thing to do! I was sad to see her go, and look forward to another visit from family, though I'm not holding my breath on seeing anyone else before the wedding next October. Below is the conservatory at Belle Isle. There was no docent (no sign of anyone in charge until we came across a man watering some plants about 30 minutes in), though that just may be during the fall/winter months. It was very peaceful, but not nearly as well kept as the active Matthaei Botanical Gardens in Ann Arbor (institutions attached to the powerhouse university seem to weather the recession better that most). However, the slightly unkempt Belle Isle conservatory had a deserted, wild, and melancholy feel that seemed to fit the city it inhabits.

I end this post with a note on Thanksgiving: I am thankful for the year that has passed so far, with a change from a steady income but no time to spend with family, friends, or my new surroundings, to a life that is less economically certain, but heading in the right direction in all possible ways. I went from what I still see as a dead end to a world full of possibilities (if not the security I desire). I was able to spend more time with many members of my family than I have in years. I have done new things in my career, in artistic endeavors, in exploring Detroit and other areas of Michigan, and I have learned good things about myself in the process. So, if I don't say it again, thank you to all of you who had a part in my ever-changing, ever-interesting life! I hope I have had a positive effect on your year (and life) as well!

Wedding Bells will Ring (Next Year, That Is)!

It has again been a very long time since I wrote. I have been directing my attention to creating a wedding website, after Fiance and I finally chose a date and location to be married.

The wedding will be "Up North," which is, from what I understand, anywhere north of The Thumb (we are now looking at the top of our left hand - a surprisingly close-to-scale, very "handy" representation of the state of Michigan). The wedding will take place somewhere around the upper right corner of the ring finger (how appropriate!). For those who don't wish to locate airport, lodging, and attractions via cuticle and knuckle landmarks, I suppose we will provide addresses and maps, though that takes some of the mystery and romance out of it.

Below is a picture of the barn from a cornstalk-lined road. We hope for a sunny day, but one can never tell in Michigan! (I think I've mentioned before how every state I've lived in claims that saying "If you don't like the weather here, wait 5 minutes." And I can say with authority, that all those states stole the saying from the peninsula state of Michigan (okay, maybe Florida has a valid claim too).

We liked the relaxed vibe of the area, the rustic charm, and the lack of pushiness, among other things. We juxtaposed our visit to the barn with its polar opposite-a visit to Castle Farms (which locals call "The Castle"). It is a wedding factory! Not in the good "this is a great location anyone would want to marry in" either. No, Castle Farms is a faux castle on the state highway (we could hear trucks wizzing by when we were outside looking at some of the gardens where presumably, you must urge the harpist to crank it up to hide the noise). We took a quick tour of the four venues, which are all booked on the same day. And because the Castle books four weddings per day, they choose the time of day you get married based on the room you rent (King's Quarters is 5 p.m. sharp, Queen's Tavern is 3 p.m., no negotiations, military precision) so as not to intersect with another wedding party.

The thing Fiance and I couldn't understand is why so many people choose to get married there. When the (very nice) on-site planner looked at our desired dates, they were already booked for all four times that day, a year in advance! I am sure that when they decorate the castle in the couple's personal style, it is lovely, but the pictures on the internet site are much nicer than the actual venue. We found the opposite to be true with our barn - the pictures on the internet don't convey its appeal and simple beauty.

Fiance is a little worried fall will come too late next year for people to experience the changing leaves.

If that's the case, though, and it's warm, then we may get out on the water (lots of surrounding lakes, including Michigan and Huron) without freezing to death!

No matter what the weather (except please no snow!!!) we are most looking forward to a gathering of loved ones and are excited to let the planning begin!

On a more somber note, the cornfield is gone! The only corn we actually ate went into soups, due to its chewiness. But when fall arrives in Michigan, people start serious corn decorating, so we followed suit, and killed the cornfield (my baby!).

And our doorstep.

HAPPY AUTUMN!

Where Have I Been??????

It's been 3 weeks! This neglect won't happen again! So, where have I been? Here, there, everywhere. A little east coast last month, and a little west coast this month. I went to San Diego to ring in my dad's 60th birthday with him and family. It was lovely! See...?

We went to the zoo, where we saw these flamingoes dancing...

We marvelled at an awesome aircraft carrier and a neat soldier statue on the harbor (and again were reminded of the HUGE military presence in the city-not the first thing you think of when you think SoCal).
And we went to the aquarium in La Jolla, from which you can see forever...
Most of all, I enjoyed just hanging out with my family. The memorable times often happen during downtime, whether surrounded by wise elephants or groovin' flamingoes, surly balloon artists or sad seahorses, freeway traffic or miles of sand and surf.

When I got back, I had one day to decompress, and it's been run, run, run ever since. I feel like I am wearing my own personal groove into the M-14, hustling back and forth between Wayne and Washtenaw Counties. I met with my clients (I need more!), attended a 2-day trade convention (learned that it is necessary to sink way more money in!), networked with a fellow tradesmen, got a fever and then got better, became more involved in my literacy volunteer organization (I'm a mentor now), got a different waitress job (did not put too much effort into that one), paid my bills, reorganized my office (was a disaster), reorganized basement (still a disaster, but a neater one), dog-sat, and slept a little. So, I hope that answers the question posed in this post's title.

As for the corn crop, I'm hoping that we don't get a frost for at least another month. I have some small ears and some big ears-the big ears are the ones that have received the most direct sunlight. When I walk in the cornfield now I can actually smell corn-it is really cool! Also, our tomato plants are still yielding, after 3 months! Either it's beginner's luck, or we really do live in suburbia's promised land. Here's the latest in corn-if you look closely you can see the cornsilks and follow their origin to the growing ears!

Ice Cream, Mutant Tomatoes, and Dad

I am dedicating this post to my Dad, who inspired me to post today when I spoke to him on the phone and he asked about the blog. I will try to make this interesting, Dad, but I think we already talked about almost everything going on in my day on the phone earlier...

One thing we didn't talk about was my ice cream-making skills. Last week I used my machine for the first time to make cherry frozen yogurt. I have a Cuisinart ice cream maker, and its directions state that 20-30 minutes in the machine should present edible ice cream. What I had after 20-30 minutes was pretty runny, so I just put it in tupperware in the freezer and it was good the next day, just more like sorbet. But it was very, very good.

Tonight I am making mint chocolate chip ice cream, with mint I picked this afternoon from my backyard. It is incredibly satisfying to pick something from your yard and eat it. It is even more satisfying to turn that edible yardstuff into ice cream! The results are still pending, but I have dipped my finger into the custard that is cooling (the pre-machine step is to make a minty custard), and it is very, very good.

On the topic of fresh mint, I cannot get over the fact of growing food in my own yard. I was raised, as I have said before, in a desert city, and tomatoes don't grow on trees, let alone tomato vines, there with much success (although my Aunt N and Uncle J, living at the foothills of a rocky, sandy mountain on the edge of town, obviously have not heard that news, because they have repeat raging success with their tomato plants).

It's not as if Vegas is a totally barren wasteland (visit neighborhoods built pre-1990 to find a desert oasis), it's just that people have to work harder at growing non-desert plants there, and water is scarce (more so now in a city of millions than when I grew up in same city of hundred-thousands). And Vegas does a fantastic job of making people feel guilty for every drop of water consumed, as well it should considering the water level at Lake Mead these days. And gardening things like tomatoes, mint, and corn takes plenty of water.

My fiance and I ate our first tomatoes from our yard last night. There were only two ripe ones , each from a different plant (we have two), so I cut them in half and gave us both a piece from each plant. They are cherry tomatoes, but these things are big. Some of them are beyond golf ball-size (though no golf ball-size fruits are yet ripe). We ate normal cherry-sized last night, but I wonder about those mutants. Our tomatoes, if I can judge based on only two, are wonderful. They smell and taste like warm sunlight and redness. I don't think that is anything but a lame description to someone who has eaten only grocery store tomatoes, which is why that 'real tomato virgin' should go straight to a farmers market asap and get a sunlight-tomato and realize my description is not lame, it's true! The only four people who read this blog (please, correct me if there are more!), have all experienced real tomatoes, so the sunlight/redness description is sufficient at this time. I have 100+ tomatoes waiting to ripen on the vines, and I go out every morning now to check on them, and tie twine around the branches too heavy with fruit now to support themselves. I have several pieces of twine connecting vine branches to our fences. I am sure the neighbors are thrilled.

Back on water, I have a theory that while Vegas and the entire American west is the hotspot for growth in America right now, as the twenty-first century progresses, places where food grows and water runs with ease will gain in popularity--headline in 2015: Detroit Boomtown! Okay, it's a bit of a crazy theory, but so are desert boomtowns! Look at Vegas, but even worse, look at Phoenix! I think that original Las Vegans** enjoyed the wealth that came from the boomtown development, but also look back wistfully on the pleasant, mosquito-free, small city with all the benefits that the Vegas Valley offers, but with none of the big-city problems that exist now. Anyway, a more likely theory is that the rest of the country will steal water from the Great Lakes, resulting in water for everyone, maybe just cheaper for those who actually live in the Great Lakes states.

So, this is what my blog is about Dad. I hope you are not asleep already. It is like an episode of Seinfeld ("It's a show about nothing!") without the humor. I will work on the humor if you promise to read on.



** I count myself as an Original Las Vegan although I obviously wasn't around 100 years ago at its founding: in a town this new, it was rare to meet many natives my age (uuhhh...31) in town up to a mere few years ago. Now it is nothing to say you're from Vegas, but the switch from novelty to old-hat came very recently. Original Las Vegans were born there. Everybody else moved there (usually from California and New York--Oregon, we feel for you) and turned it into a logistical quagmire.

Various Regional Observations

Just a few observations about my new home: the hometown diner, the awful traffic solution/problem, and the elephant in the road, uh I mean room.

#1: Coney Islands

Though you wouldn't guess it from the name, a Coney Island is generally a Detroit coffeeshop (haven't seen any in Ann Arbor, but correct me if I'm wrong) that serves regular Denny's-type fare, hot dogs (which I guess you would expect), and some pretty good Greek and/or Mediterranean food (which you wouldn't expect if you don't live in Detroit, but makes sense if you do). I don't have much to say about Coneys, except that they are everywhere, possibly more everywhere than a Waffle House in Georgia is everywhere (this is because Coneys come in buildings of all shapes and sizes, with different peoples names on them-and you are never more than a stone's throw from a Coney). Another thing worth saying about Coneys is that most people seem to have a devout love for one or two. Another thing is that Patti Smith had her wedding reception at Lafayette Coney Island. And the last thing is that Coneys are way better than greasy spoons like Denny's (ugh)and IHOP (ick), and are one of those Detroit quirks that, like many things Detroit, you have to go to appreciate and know.

#2: The Michigan Left

The Michigan Left is the pernicious work of a traffic expert in need of some advice from this Dilettante. If I could get the ear of whoever invented the Michigan Left, I would indeed give him/her an earful. For those who don't know what I am talking about, here is the concept, gathered from rumor, myth passed down, and my own conjecture: It is ostensibly safer and more convenient to not turn left on the street you want to turn left on and instead either a) continue straight through an intersection, make a U-turn, and then take a Right onto the street you just passed, or b) take a Right where you want to take a Left, and then make a U-turn and then continue through the intersection. I have to make a Michigan Left every time I want to go west on the 96 freeway, which would be okay, I guess, except for the fact that there are speeding cars exiting the freeway only 30 yards from where I peer to my right to see if it's safe to make my U-turn. So I usually end up pulling in front of a car exiting at 60 mph, in order to end my wait in a long and impatient queue gathered on a bridge over the freeway (said queue possibly in fear of the infrastructural security of said bridge, given road conditions in Michigan--see #3).

In another scenario, I am cruising along in the left lane of traffic on a major road, when all of a sudden, the car in front of me comes to a dead stop, because the driver of the car needs to make a U-turn, in order to take a left (actually, now a right) at the intersection we have already passed through! Sigh....I prefer the practical Pittsburgh Left to the Michigan Left. The Pittsburgh Left is the practice of the first person in the left-turn-lane line turning at the moment the yield-left light turns green (those brave Pittsburghers correctly presuming that the oncoming traffic will not beat them if they move fast, thereby keeping traffic flowing, not doing a bit of harm, and getting where they're going a minute sooner).

#3: Michigan Roads

Like many other parent-expatriates (not expatriates that are also parents, but people expatriated from the geographical region of their own parents), I receive mail from both Mom and Dad (not married) that recounts various bits of news to me. Sometimes it is funny, sometimes it is advice, sometimes it is an update on friends or family, and it is always touching and much appreciated by this Dilettante, who misses her family. So recently I received from Mom a Parade Magazine article listing the worst roads in America. There were several towns listed (for example, Gatlinburg TN, West Orange TX) and then "any road in Michigan." Not "Detroit MI" or "Flint MI," but any road in Michigan. And I wholeheartedly agree. Another thing you have to go to really know, though that one I'd like to keep under wraps.

The Fifth of July and a Book Review

It's the day after Independence Day, which for me used to signify the downswing of summer. After moving to Michigan, though, I find the officially mandated seasons to be quite on target. In Detroit this year, it reached sweat-inducing temperatures exactly one day after the first day of summer (June 20th). In Vegas, summer heat comes in early May (and leaves around mid-October!). Regardless of the frequent and wild temperature fluctuations here, I've enjoyed our weather ever since the clocks sprang forward, ending my first run-in with a mild case of S.A.D. It's more about sunlight than temperature for some folks.

The upside of a cold dry winter is that if during that season for some crazy reason I choose to bare some skin, I would not be ravaged by blood-thirsty mosquitoes, as I was last night despite practically standing on top of a smoky firepit to avoid such a result. I count eight bites on my feet, and one on my arm (the arm bite by a mosquito who had the audacity to appear in broad daylight this afternoon while I was tending to my corn!).

Here is my first book review--anyone reading this can get a more expert viewpoint from a number of newspaper book critics who get paid to do this, while I am a mere dilettante, but hey, these reviews are mostly for my own benefit, kind of a debriefing. I just finished the novel Jeff in Venice, Death in Varanasi by Geoff Dyer, an author who I had never heard of until a few weeks ago, but whose work I now intend to follow. What first attracted me was the title, how cute! I tend to be random when it comes to reading new or new-to-me authors, and what attracts me to a book is the title or cover art (the latter not being a fair basis for judgment, as authors may not have much control over that marketing/artistic device, depending on their contract, etc.). So I picked this book up because I liked the title and figured it could allay some avid-reader-guilt for having avoided Death in Venice my whole life.

Dyer's book is divided into two parts-Venice, Italy and Varanasi, India of course. In the first part, the main character, Jeff Atman, is a British journalist at the Biennale, an art world event held in Venice, though he actually was sent to cover not the event itself, but to interview a woman only tangentally related to the event who lived in Venice. He's a habit in the arts circuit though, and got invites and passes to good parties and exhibits, his commentary on which provides the reader a brief and amusing look into the Biennale from a rather jaded perspective. In Venice he meets and falls in love with Laura, an American who works at a gallery. The story covers their affair amid the parties and exhibits. In Laura, Jeff finds a partner who seems to share his view of the silly, grand, boring, beautiful spectacle of art as well as the outside world. Jeff embraces this newfound love and the prospect of a new life with this woman, after what seems to have been a long spell of cynical, unmotivated plodding through his former life in England.

I loved this first part in Venice. It was like...well, like my first couple of years in college. A little work mixed in with a little more partying, fueled at times by a bit of booze but more so by youthful energy and the exciting promise of what a new day and night might bring (turning out to be, like this Venice, full of random meetings and colorful characters). Jeff is very likeable despite his jaded outlook, or maybe because of his jaded outlook, because I saw myself in this character, a character who channelled his despair into a glib, tough sense of humor. It's my measure of a good writer - real, recognizable characters. Yes, I loved the Twilight series (guilty), but even though those books were constantly describing what Bella thought, how Bella felt, what Bella thought Edward and Jacob were thinking and feeling (based on exhausting scrutiny of their words and facial expressions), the Twilight books did not make me feel like I was ever in any character's shoes (or heart or mind) in a given situation. Rather, Twilight's writer (who I think is great!) told an entertaining story but kept you the reader at a distance, despite the very personal nature of the story. On the other hand, Dyer brought me in to this guy's head to recognize myself, my desires, my sense of humor** and coping strategies in the face of the same old sameness, and my kindred joy at the promise of having found a soulmate/co-conspirator to shake things up.

On to part two: Varanasi. I think Brits are more familiar with all things Indian, but this American had to look up "ghat" in the dictionary: steps leading down to a body of water (big thing in Varanasi, which is on the Ganges). Part two is not a continuation of part one. It is the opposite side of the same rupee. It is squalor and death, this after the reader has had a stint in Italian luxury and the embrace of a promising new life. The two parts structured the book into a jarring upside-down V. Up, up to a grand life with a new love. Then down, down to watch the bodies burn at Manikarnika ghat, to fight the native filth and then embrace it, to experience the gradual disconnection of one's self with one's former life.

I waited like a puppy for the Jeff in part one to show up and reclaim his Venetian splendor. I can be such a shallow American. It took a while, but I grew accustomed to the spare, ascetic, and ickier developing-world life of our hero, who never spared the reader a description of a dead body, confused monkey, or bout of dysentery, which means he never spared the reader from the colorful observations of a full life (though not all lives encompass negotiation with monkeys).

If Venice was college, Varanasi was my brief stint housesitting on the Florida Gulf Coast: What was I doing here? Who are these people? Bleak (yes, really, in Florida, go there some time and you'll see), foreign, exotic, and a renunciation of my former, malfunctioning life. I went jogging in 100% percent humidity as angry self-entitled soccer moms honked at me for blocking their charging SUVs, and I worked as a cashier with people who were still mad at the Yanks about the Civil War. I related to no one. And I fled what I felt was unnecessary torture and strangeness from my congenitally relaxed and breezy west coast life. A different outcome than that of Dyer's evolving character, who felt he had nothing to go back to in his former life. Or perhaps he learned something in a foreign world that I didn't take the time to: "I was in my way. I was ahead of me in the queue. I was keeping me waiting. When I drank beer, I was waiting for the glass to empty so I could have it filled and start drinking again....All I'm saying is that in Varanasi I no longer felt like I was waiting....I had taken myself out of the equation."

Regardless of any wisdom acquired on an ancient Indian riverbank, what it comes down to is how well the story, any story, is told. As I happily would watch on film a person shop for groceries for an hour if directed by Woody Allen or Spike Lee, so I could read Geoff Dyer's account of Jeff Atman ordering food at a restaurant in Venice or wandering the ghats of Varanasi. What a pleasure to find a character you care for, even as he cares less, and slips through your and everyone else's fingers.


**"...that it's possible to be a hundred percent sincere and a hundred percent ironic at the same time."