By this point we had cancelled going to that same improvisational singing session which we passed up out of tiredness the Saturday we got here... to start with I didn't want to do it, and then when I was in a "what the hell, might as well do something" mood, Sarah reasoned I wasn't in the right headspace to risk it. Probably wise. So, frankly, I pretty much ruined the day, for myself and for her.
When I've been grumpy it takes usually a day for me to come round to admitting it and feeling bad about it, and it'll only happen if the original problem is solved, in which case there's a brief period of such euphoria that the subsequent realisation of what a bastard I've been, and the immediately ensuing crash, leaves me a bit dazed and tearful. Depression: it's a wonderful, wonderful life.
I hadn't really recovered, but at least I was vaguely able to talk and operate socially, when we went out in the evening, scanning restaurants on Robson and eventually settling on "Original Flavours Of India". Another good curry house. We're noticing a few things about Indian food here. First, they make it on the premises, as opposed to heating it up from prepacked. We know this because Sarah has twice asked for her biryani to be made without nuts, and without nuts it has twice arrived. Second, all curries can be as spicy or as mild as you like: they offer you a range. Third, it seems that many Vancouverites don't eat curry, don't really understand it, and generally can't cope with spicy food - and the curry houses have adapted to that by offering far richer, milder food than you'd get in England. Both times we've had curries, it's been a much more flavourful experience than in England. My rogan gosh, for example, was a pleasant shade of orange, rather than the deadly red you'd get back home. And having asked for it hot (which almost made the waitress gasp in horror) I ate it without any difficulty. When she cleared the plates away she checked, a little worriedly, that I was still OK. Touching, but indicative of a completely different curry culture. And I kinda prefer it like this. Curry may be richer in Vancouver, almost to the point of causing an upset stomach, but that's better than the average over-spiced under-cooked English takeaway. That's not to say I won't miss them, mind you. But I'm sure the milder, customised curry experience is helpful for Sarah. She got halfway through tonight's biryani, which was piled pretty high.
The only downside of the waiting staff's dedication to the wellbeing of spice-untrained Vancouver diners is that the moment you've taken a sip of your water, someone swoops in to refill it. This has only happened at the two curry houses. Local custom? Required by law? Who can tell.
My food knocked me out reasonably quickly and I had a long nap on the couch, rising at 2am so I could go to bed. (It's like being a cat.)
This reminds me: by popular demand, here is a picture of Nelson, my new bear:
Sunday morning. Laptop still not working. Took me ages to copy my handful of personal files from it onto Sarah's. Eventually gave up and plugged in the hard drive. That took ten seconds. Even the wireless speed was rubbish. The plan was now to take it back to Futureshop and pull a Jacqui Twine - "What is the meaning of this?" Coincidentally, we spent a while on the phone to Jax before going out. Sounds like Alexis is having a fantastic run of success - go Twiney!
(For anyone who wants to get something out of their charitable donation, not to mention how you'll be making recently-emigrated songwriters feel appreciated, go here, where Alexis's CD is on sale in aid of pancreatic cancer research.) (1)
And now a brief public service announcement. Have YOU ever taken something back to an English superstore and tried to convince customer service staff that it's broken? Have YOU ever had to kick, scream, and act like a schoolgirl before you made your point? Have YOU had to talk to the manager?
Then come to Canada, where customer service is like they have in America!
Seriously. I was fretful as we packed up the laptop to take it back to Futureshop because, hey, it's just going to be my word that it doesn't work. And I might have done anything to it. Or installed anything on it. I bought it a fortnight ago: sorry, squire, it's used now, what are we supposed to do with it, huh? Etc etc etc.
I needn't have worried. I explained the steps I'd taken to the customer service guy, and he shrugged and said, Well, it sounds like you've been pretty thorough in trying things... OK, do you want a direct exchange or do you want a refund and maybe buy a different one?
It's entirely possible that Sarah and I are still slightly in shock over this. I know we passed a guy in Robson Square who was offering free hugs and she was a little freaked out by hers (mine was good - hers was good too, it's just she hasn't been hugged by anyone except me for a while). Perhaps that's lingering. But... it's just strange, to be treated as though I have rights by someone in a shop.
Anyway, I came home with a sort of somewhat more expensive laptop. Ahem. On the plus side this one can play games, which the last one had real difficulty managing. (2Gb of RAM is one thing, but it had a comedy graphics card.) On the minus side, it's still got Windows Vista, which I still loathe. Today's unamusing Vista 'feature' - I swear this software is unfinished - is that it wouldn't stop connecting to other people's networks. I first noticed this when it gaily started downloading updates before I'd told it what our secret wireless router was called. Several attempts later, I'm still not sure I've solved the problem. I can't help thinking "Beware the jabberwock, my son..." as I contemplate the further potential for harebrained activity inherent in this thing.
For some reason we got a free printer with it. I say free, we have to mail in a rebate form, but it should work out to be free. The chances are it's a crap free printer... it's an HP all-in-one, after all... this does not exactly bode well... it's not bodacious... in fact it's the exact opposite... which would be... bodunk?
But I'm getting ahead of myself. At the time, and showing admirable restraint - ADMIRABLE I tell you - I left my new laptop in its box, and we went for a long relaxing walk around Yaletown. This is the south/southeastern district of downtown Vancouver, and we haven't done much exploring there so far. I think we made up for that today though. The photo highlights follow.
Jax, you'll need to bring an empty suitcase to fill up with stuff for Maxie...
A strange sculpture just off the boardwalk:
Hero Panda!
Turtles made of bread:
All this and more awaits you in... Yaletown!
We took a quick look in the much-anticipated 'yuppie deli', Urban Fayre. It didn't seem all that out of the ordinary. No more expensive than The Market Place just across from us. We picked up some goodies there on the way home. Was (Not Was)'s song Papa Was A Rolling Stone was playing on the radio while we were in there. Now there's a song I haven't heard in ages. What a great band. I checked on Wikipedia and found that they did indeed only do four albums, so I had the whole set at one point. What a winning band. Definitely a Panda favourite.
Sarah had a nap, and then we had dinner at Earl's on Seymour. Another steak place. I discovered I really like asparagus tips. Another restaurant which, benefiting from a substantial young male clientele, dresses its waitresses to please same. I still find this a bit weird. Can't fault their rare steak, though.
Back to the Electra and we played some more pool. Sarah is... well, let's stick with 'getting better'. The cue is a disgrace and the table has seen far better days, but it's a laugh. I wonder whether, with all the hype to do with realistic physics and so forth, anyone has ever done a snooker or pool computer game where you can play on an old, tatty table with withered cushions and a black hole in the middle. You'd get more real-world experience from it, that's for sure.
'night all.
(1) If your name is Maggie, and you tried messing with the Twines with regard to the first version of this CD, then... your mum!
No comments:
Post a Comment