Myanmar - have visa, will travel

So, I am going to Myanmar, leaving just after Easter. I now have a visa and everything!

It's a short trip, only about 10 days, but will be a much-needed break.

There have already been the annoying bits and pieces you might expect. I anticipate many more, particularly given what my friend E. (who lives there) says about it. And, look, some of those annoying bits and pieces have been caused, in part, by my last-minute travel habits. (Although if people would just give me all the information I need in one go .......) (And I am usually much more last minute than THIS.)

I have also been discovering exactly why I don't usually use travel agents.

But - but - if things work out, I will be visiting a ruby mine. Which is something I am looking forward to immensely. 

There will be posts. But maybe not until I get back to Australia in late April.

Singapore highlights

In no particular order:

- Gardens by the Bay, especially the Cloud Forest Dome.

- The heat. Somehow, I actively enjoyed the heat in Singapore more than that in Japan. It was not as humid in Singapore compared to much of our time in Japan. That probably had a lot to do with it.

- Chinatown - architecture, wandering around, the markets, sugarcane juice with lime, mango roll, crispy fried tofu.

- Food - La Pau Sat and Immigrants. Roti and iced teh. Iced milo. Mangosteens.

- The Night Safari.

- Seeing the contrasts - the glitzy international city of finance compared to the suburbs.

Tokyo highlights

In no particular order:

- The river cruise, followed by Hamarikyu gardens, especially the tea-house and the chat with the friendly Japanese and American businessmen there.

- Tokyo Disneyland, which I enjoyed for my own sake (and far more than I expected), as well as enjoying the delight of the 4 y.o.

- The sense of achievement in pretty much figuring out the metro system. The app X. found helped immensely.

- The part sign language, part English and part Japanese conversation I had in the supermarket with two local women, trying to figure out whether the laundry detergent I was holding was suitable for a top-loading machine.

- Yakitori from a tiny place near the station near our accommodation.

- The Mori Art Museum and Tokyo observation deck.

- Chirashi sashimi after our walk through the Yanaka area - and, on that walk, a conversation with a man whose mother had been born in the area.

Song of the Baby

I made up a song. Anyone who has spent more than 5 minutes in the company of a small child will recognise it.

It is to be sung to a G&S-style tune, ie melodramatic and mock-operatic, in a minor key. If I ever get the chance, I might post the tune (which I have probably unintentionally ripped off from somewhere).

It amused all of my travelling companions. The funniest reaction was that of the 4 y.o. She asked me to sing it three or four times, by which point she had it memorised. When we were singing it together later, she confided to me (in relation to the first verse): "B, sometimes I'm a bit like that."

I told her I'd noticed. I also said that actually, everybody was a bit like that sometimes!

X. also played me a Rhys Muldoon song which has a similar theme and a VERY similar ending. But Muldoon's is much better.

The Song of the Baby

I don't want to go to sleep!
I don't want to go to sleep!
There are exciting things afoot, there are exciting things afoot,
I don't want to go to sleep.

You are being mean to me!
You are being mean to me!
By feeding me when I'm hungry, by feeding me when I'm hungry,
You are being mean to me.

I want to go and explore!
I want to go and explore!
Under the table and through the door, under the table and through the door,
I want to go and explore.

That thing fits nicely in my mouth!
That thing fits nicely in my mouth!
Why are you taking it away? why are you taking it away?
That thing fits nicely in my mouth.

Why are you washing my face?
Why are you washing my face?
I was saving that for later, I was saving that for later,
Why are you washing my face?

You are cruel for holding me!
You are cruel for holding me!
I'm going to scream and scream so everybody knows,
You are cruel for holding me.

I don't want to
...
go to sleep!
I ...
don't want to go
...
to sleep!
There are
... exciting
...
things
...
afoot,
...
...
there are exciting things
...
afoot,
...
I
...
don't
...
...
want to
...
...
...
go
...
...
...
...
...
[snore]

The trains (don't always) run on time

I have been enjoying the fact that the trains really do run to timetable here - well, mostly enjoying; we've missed a couple of connections because of change times that don't take account of the speed of kids, but that's life.

Today, however, we were on what might have been the only delayed train in Japan.

We're in Hiroshima (having canned the planned hiking/onsen trip due to difficult travel and bad walking weather) and wanted to head to Miyajima today.

We caught a train in the afternoon.

The man across the aisle from us spoke into a dictaphone shortly after sitting down. He checked his watch as he did so. He also looked kind of irritated. I imagine he keeps a diary of his movements. His entry from that train trip probably goes something like the following (NB: times and number of entries are approximate, as I was neither making a note of the times myself nor recording when/how many times he spoke into his dictaphone. I also have no real idea what the announcements said.):

"2014-7-7 16:54 Embarked upon train to Iwakuni. Found seat. Across the aisle is a strange and noisy gaijin group. Two kids! The little one made a lot of noise and the adults just seemed to encourage him! Train due to depart 16:56. This is 5 minutes late. I am not impressed."

"2014-7-7 16:56 Train has departed."

"2014-7-7 17:03 Train appears to be waiting at Yokagawa for longer than it should. This is what happens when trains are permitted to run late in the first place. Gaijin still loud and annoying. The older child is now being permitted to make her little brother scream. I am not impressed."

"2014-7-7 17:10 Train has stopped between Yokagawa and Nishihiroshima. The driver apologised for the delay. There is some mechanical problem with the train. They are persevering."

"2014-7-7 17:24 Train has finally crawled into Nishihiroshima. We have now been sitting here for some time."

"2014-7-7 17:58 Train has been crawling between stations and stopping for some time at each one. We have just left Miyauchi-Kushido. The gaijin disembarked at that stop but only after the train had waited at the station for some time. They are probably too stupid to read even the Romaji signs."

In other words, we got off a train about an hour after we got on it, two stops before our stop, to cross the tracks and get straight on a train headed back to Hiroshima. (A trip which took the appropriate 20 or so minutes.) However, at the station we were aiming for, we still would have needed to take a ferry and then walk to see the Itsukushina Shrine and Torii gate, our ultimate goal - and then do it all in reverse. And we had two tired and hungry kids and weren't sure whether it was just our train or something systemic. The experience made me think of Italy.

Nevertheless, it felt like a pointless couple of hours.

We'll try again tomorrow. On the tram.

Naoshima

Yesterday, we headed out of Kurashiki to Naoshima (three trains and a ferry), home of the Benesse Art Site. It had come highly recommended by friends.

As we have found so often in Japan, the people at the bike rental place were enormously helpful. We had been a bit skeptical about whether there would be a bike with a child carrier, but in the event, there was one with both a child seat on the back and a baby seat on the front. Perfect for our most confident (and strongest) cyclist, P. It even had battery assist. (Although, to be honest, he probably would have beat me and X. up the hills with both kids and without battery assist.)

After lunch, described in a previous post, we headed out of Miyanoura to look at art.

The Chichu Museum was our first stop. It is very minimalist, with quite brutalist architecture. There are only a few artworks in there, but each is in a specially designed space and lit (where lighting is required) by artificial light.

The display of Monets is phenomenal (and reflected in the garden with lily pond outside). The work by James Turrell called "Open Field" is amazing and surreal.

But the highlight for me was the Walter de Maria work. This consists of an enormous polished marble globe in the centre of a large hall. It sits halfway up a flight of seamless concrete steps. Around the walls are golden-painted angular wooden columns, placed in groups of three and at various orientations.

The light comes in through hidden skylights around the edges of the room, is caught by the columns and reflected off the globe.

An attendant stands outside warning everyone to be quiet inside (the hall is very echo-y) and not to touch the globe. The attendant who was there when we went in the first time had curly hair, a big smile and a friendly manner. When we went back the second time (it had been cloudy when we first arrived, but it was sunny by the time we were ready to leave and we wanted to observe the difference), she had switched places and was inside the hall. She took a great deal of delight from our pleasure in the work, particularly the 4 y.o.'s enjoyment.

After the Chichu, we went riding further, checking out other parts of the island and whatever outdoor art we could find. It was a very pleasant afternoon.

My one complaint about the day is that the train that met the ferry left within about 5 minutes after the ferry got in. With two kids, that was never going to be possible. However, the station attendants were able to give us a restaurant recommendation so our waiting time was not wasted.

Impressions of Japanese architecture

Keeping in mind I haven't yet been to Tokyo...

(1) Brutalism really took hold here!

(2) The art deco influence is apparent from time to time, often only in parts, those parts often being stained glass.

(3) The Mondrian-style painted building we saw from a train was cool (not sure where we were).

(4) I get the impression that, for the most part, the aesthetic value of the exterior of a building is not enormously important - apart from the garden. Even the older/older-style buildings are not particularly interesting from the outside, although more appealing than many modern buildings. There are a few notable exceptions to all of this.

(5) Brutalism rates a second mention here.

(6) Many modern homes look like kit homes. There is a significant degree of uniformity.

(7) That said, to my eye, the town planning often seems a bit higgledy-piggledy in terms of building placement, both as to where buildings are placed (tall and ugly apartment blocks amongst much lower, often more traditional-style housing) and orientation vis-a-vis other buildings (at odd angles, windows overlooking gardens, etc).

(8) GARDENS! Many people have a garden, if only pots on a balcony or the street. They are often food gardens. (In the more rural areas, there are large vegie gardens, and everyone seems to have their own rice paddy, if only a small one.)

Kurashiki = food heaven

As a general rule, my favourite parts of any trip often end up being the serendipitous, at least partly unplanned, moments.

Kurashiki has been no exception.

We're staying here because it seemed a good base for a couple of day trips (Naoshima and Hiroshima). Okayama would have been a bit more convenient, but we were pointed in this direction by the guide book and the lack of suitable accommodation in Okayama - once we got more than a certain distance from the station, we figured we might as well take that extra 15 minute train trip.

We are so glad we did.

We are in a traditional ryokan - and I'm quite positive we've already made some serious etiquette slips, but everyone is nevertheless being very nice to us (the fact that the 4 y.o. says "konnichiwa" and "arigato" very nicely doesn't hurt).

And we had the most fabulous meal on our first night here.

We literally followed our noses, stopping at a yakitori restaurant called Torikei - when trying to find something else - because it just smelled so good. Nobody spoke any English, so we asked for omakase. It was superb. From the bacon-wrapped quail eggs on skewers to the chicken wings to the sashimi, combined with the element of surprise, it was one of my favourite meals of the trip so far.

The waitress seemed delighted with our delight at each dish, highly amused at (and patient with) our attempts to communicate and charmed by the kids (as so many people are), and that added immensely to our enjoyment.

The pics on the bottom of this post are from Torikei. We might just end up there again tomorrow night...

In the afternoon, we had also picked up some of the local specialty snacks - tiny pancakes wrapped around adzuki bean paste. Yum!

Then, this morning, we had breakfast at our ryokan. Rice, miso soup, egg, grilled salmon, tofu, various pickles and accompaniments - it was a great way to start the day.

Today's lunch at Naoshima (ok, not Kurashiki, but I'm taking blogger's licence here) made it three in a row. We hired our bikes and asked at the rental place for a lunch recommendation. We ended up eating the freshest sashimi I have ever had, with sea bream caught by one of the owners (presumably that morning, but the language barrier made it difficult to ask). The miso soup stock was made from hand-collected prehistoric-looking shellfish. The owners let us in to their adjoining gallery for free, which contained a life-sized model of an elephant made out of hay, and gave the kids free toys from a lucky dip.

All of that put us in the right frame of mind and body to go riding around the island in search of art. More on which in a later post.

Kimono and Zen

Today we headed to Arashiyama, famous for its bamboo grove - where the bamboo scene in Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon was filmed.

Before the grove, though, we wandered through the grounds of the Tenryu-ji Temple, which were incredible (I'll add some pictures to this post when I download some from my camera).

Even more incredible was the Zen lunch at Shigetsu, inside the temple grounds. We were taken to a private room with tatami mats, and red felt carpets down the side for us to sit on. (Another gaijin family who arrived just after us, who also had a 1 y.o. and a 4 y.o., were given a room with low chairs and tables - I like to think our hosts recognised we'd be fine with the standard arrangements!)

We were then brought trays full of small dishes - and then additional trays - and then extra dishes. All of it was vegetarian food. All of it was amazing. Even the often fussy 4 y.o. found something to enjoy.

We also made friends with the other family, and the two 4 y.o. kids went running through the grounds together. Good to know that the 4 y.o. I'm travelling with doesn't let her love for pretty dresses stop her from a good run. She was getting a lot of attention, though, and here's why:

Charm and free canele

We try our best with our (doubtless atrociously pronounced) "sumimasen", "konnichiwa" and "arigatou", with an occasional "eego o hanashimasu ka?" thrown in. In most places, those, plus some English words from the people we speak to and the classic travellers' gestures get us through. There are smiles and happiness (albeit perhaps a little awkwardness) and we move on.

Then, sometimes, the immense amount of goodwill we are shown blows me away, and I remember again and again why I love talking to strangers so much, especially strangers from places other than my own.

It was our first full day in Kyoto today, as stinking hot and muggy as you might expect in late June. (The weather here, including the way it rains, reminds me of Sydney in February.) We managed to hit the road by 10 am - not a bad effort with two children, and X.

We got down to the Higashi Honganji Temple in good order, but by the time we made it to the Daitokuji grounds, it was midday and we were hot, sticky and footsore.

And that was how, despite a general prejudice against anywhere that looks like it sells western food, we ended up at the Cafe du Mon.

The lunch special was fantastic (fusion, Japanese style - and they were very happy to change it for our non-lactose-consumer), the egg and ham sandwiches among the best P. had ever tasted, and the iced green tea really hit the spot. But what, or rather who, made it such a great place to spend some time, were the amazingly friendly owners and staff.

It started out as a fairly straightforward interaction, but everyone was so friendly and interested in the kids, and the forbidden rice that none of us could fit in so good, we decided to ask something that we had been wondering: is it ok to ask in a restaurant if we could take leftovers away? And if so, could we take the rice?

The fact that it was impossible to explain what we were trying to ask really told us what we needed to know, but X. came up with the idea of using Google translate. I would love to know how that got translated, because the owner laughed his head off about it, a great big infectious laugh. The answer, it turns out, is no, not really, but he was very happy to make our leftover rice into rice balls for us to take with us and to tell us some of his views about people and life, and explain that, as we were in Kyoto, we should say "okini" instead of "arigatou".

Shortly after that, some canele were brought to our table, gratis, made by the owner's French-patisserie-trained wife. Followed by biscotti when they remembered the lactose problem.

Even the fussy 4 y.o. agreed, despite initial skepticism before being convinced to at least take a tiny bite, that the canele were something special.

By then, it was a bit cooler, and we enjoyed Daitoju much more than we would have otherwise. Although I think the 4 y.o. thought it odd that a monk at the Daisin-in Zen garden suddenly sang "Row, Row, Row Your Boat" at her (he was thrilled she said "konnichiwa" so nicely).

After we got home, X. and I headed out in search of a toy for the baby. We managed this errand quite efficiently, but got distracted on the way home by a small kimono for the 4 y.o. (X.) and ceramics (me). Everyone we spoke to was lovely, but none more so than the couple in the ceramics shop.

From the moment we walked in, they seemed really happy to have us in their shop, particularly after hearing we were from Australia, but what really sealed the friendship was our demonstration of a pottery wheel (me spinning around) and potter (X. demonstrating with her hands above my head). Gales of laughter resulted, together with an answer to the question I'd been trying to ask (did the potter use a wheel - answer, yes). Other highlights of that conversation included an enormous amount of incredulity that X. had two children - they had thought we were students. And it ended with something of a discount - unasked - on the bowl I bought.

In both the cafe and the ceramics shop, I know my memory will morph so that I instinctively remember our hosts speaking more English than they actually did (even though I will intellectually remember the language barriers that were integral parts of the experiences) - my brain will process it as "must have been speaking the same language" because we communicated so effectively and with so much delight.

Fun with Engrish

I have been in Japan for less than 3 hours, and have already seen some great examples of Engrish.

At the airport, the temperature control was being executed.

On the shuttle bus, some of the seating was forbidden because of carrying baggages.

At the hotel restaurant, you are advised to avoid the hour of 7 am to 8 am for breakfast, and otherwise to hurry.

And my favourite: the phone in the hotel has a massage button. The note next to the phone says one can receive massages on the phone.

(Quite seriously, when I first saw that one, I thought the bed might be some clever Japanese gadget operated by that button. I was a bit disappointed when I realised the truth. I blame my slight delirium - and maybe wishful thinking - on the day spent in airports and on planes.)

(Also, it's still far better than my nihongo, aka Japanese, so I'm not really making fun of it. Just enjoying the concepts of the literal meanings.)

I am turning into my parents.

Both of them. At the same time.

I am currently driving around the lower north of the North Island of NZ with my friend S.

The three pictures on this post represent:

(1) A tour around a place of horticultural interest (the Zealong Tea Estate).
(2) The gold mine at the edge of Waihi which S. and I stopped to admire.
(3) The bed and breakfast at which we are staying tonight.

I have also been:
- identifying plants as we walk around (courtesy of what I learned at the Zealandia sanctuary in Wellington)
- speculating on the possible botanical families of other plants, based on their similarities to Australian plants
- taking photos of plants and playing with the settings of my camera while I do so
- taking random side roads on the basis they go in the right general direction and might lead somewhere interesting (actually, only done this once or twice but it feels like more, given the general nature of NZ roads)
- discussing horticultural matters with our host at the B&B

All of these things demonstrate the assertion in the post title.

Hmm.

Something about this country

I took a couple of guided tours in Wellington, and in each of them, there were several little things the respective guide got wrong (often basic things which they would have been able to get right had they only read their own brochures). Makes it difficult to then trust them on, you know, anything else.

There was also the driver of the bus from the airport whose ticket machine didn't work and who refused to take our money and drive us to the city on the basis he would expose himself to theft charges if he couldn't give us tickets (um, no).

Anyway, I am currently on a bus from Wellington to Auckland.

Turns out that, earlier this morning, there was a serious crash on the main highway a couple of hours north of Wellington. The highway is closed. (I understand nobody was hurt.)

At a particular point in the highway, there is a detour in place, with a couple of road workers letting people know what was going on. They told the bus driver that there were trucks on fire and the whole road was closed and that she should turn off the main highway and follow the detour signs. At least, I'm pretty positive that's what I heard, and it's supported by the news articles I've been able to find online.

There ensued a discussion between the driver and a couple of people in the front seats during which:
- the driver asserted the accident had been cleared up and that there were only roadworks
- the driver indicated she had no idea where she was or where she was going
- one of the passengers indicated she had a connection from the next stop and she was concerned she might miss it
- the bus driver ignored the detour sign
- the bus driver complained about the fact that they keep doing roadwork and closing both lanes, that they make the road narrower and that it's dangerous for trucks - after having driven about 5 m behind a car, which had kids in it, at 100 km/hr, for quite a distance

Anyway, the same passenger as had the connection then directed the bus through a slightly different detour.

(The conversation later included the driver saying "they should have put detour signs out"!)

Things I am now wondering:
- Why doesn't the bus company give drivers an update on this kind of thing?
- Why didn't the driver actually listen to the road workers or follow the detour sign or stop and look at a map?
- Why hasn't the driver contacted the bus company, whether to find out information or provide it (eg to ask the connecting bus to wait)?

And overall: does everyone in this country live in a little bubble where they make up their own information and neither listen to anyone else, ask for information nor share information for the greater good? (Although I guess, on the basis of my experiences, I understand why you might not want to trust the information anyone else gives you.) Or is it only Wellingtonians?

Guess I'll find out in Auckland.

What, no gumboots?

Selected highlights from Wellington, NZ:
- Glow worms on my first night in town. Humid but no longer raining and (relatively) warm - apparently perfect conditions for them. Moonless night. They were spectacular.
- The sheer amount of nature in this city.
- Finding a book of stories inspired by Katherine Mansfield. Almost as good as finding new stories by KM herself.
- Bohemein chocolates.
- Te Papa and building isolators.
- The Meeting Tree - an Ethiopian restaurant on Tory St.
- And absolutely not least: getting to hang out with my friends K & J, and their incredible generosity.

Given the weather, I am a bit surprised about the general absence of gumboots.

I want to take you to a gay bar

Some things are, if not quite universal, pretty close to it.

I arrived in San Jose, Costa Rica after 8 pm and met my CS host, M., when she finished work a bit after 10.

It was a Saturday night so, naturally, we went clubbing with a bunch of her friends and their friends. To a gay club.

Well, where else did you think I would end up going dancing?

I admit to being a little surprised. Costa Rica is a noticeably Catholic country, and I would have thought this might preclude a thriving gay scene complete with busy club. Apparently not.

Anyway, I'd forgotten, but clubbing is a great way to spend an evening with people when you don't know them well and you don't necessarily speak (much of) the same language. A good time was had by all.

Sydney

I have a week or so before I have to go back to work seriously. A combination of that and not having shaken off that old travelling feeling means I'm looking at my city like a traveller again.

Last night, I walked over to visit some friends who live on the next point east from me. Walking back, coming down a hill, I caught sight of the city skyline and thought: "That's right, I'm home!"

I may not get jetlag, but it can take a little while for all parts of the brain to catch on to the sudden spatial shift of a trans-Pacific flight.

This afternoon, I was down at Circular Quay. (In the first view of the mirror, I could see a distorted reflection of the Opera House, but I'm not sure it will come through the layers of technology.)

Gotta love this city.

Home again, home again, jiggity jig

As you can see, I did not get a great deal of time to blog while I was in Costa Rica and San Francisco. I do have some posts I want to write, and I'll try to get them up in the next week or so.

In the meantime, a couple of snippets about my seat neighbour on my flight home.

Towards the end of the flight, as we were waiting for breakfast to be served, he asked me if I was an athlete, a gymnast or a dancer. I managed to avoid cracking up ... but only just.

For context, during flights, I tend to spend a bit of time with my feet up in the air - yes, even while seated in economy - and at one point during the flight I had climbed out over the armrests, because both my neighbour and the person on the aisle were asleep. My neighbour had apparently woken up while I was gone and wanted to check he wasn't dreaming.

At the end of the flight, he turned his phone on and was muttering to himself: "20 messages ... That's what it's like in the film world, you're famous one day and nobody knows you the next ..."

I was feeling too curmudgeonly to respond to what seemed like fairly obvious bait. But I did have a little chuckle to myself.

Then it was immigration, quarantine (where they were completely uninterested in the items I had to declare), a rush hour train and home to my cats. Who seem to remember me and, what's more, based on current levels of snuggling, may have even forgiven me, if only because I brought them a new box.

Sprawl

I might have known intellectually this wasn't quite right, but I always thought, or felt, or something subconscious, that American cities sprawled like Australian cities sprawl.

They don't.

I thought I had some understanding of the deep need of many Americans to own and use a car - after all, I thought, many Australians feel the same need.

No, they don't. It's different.

After only a few days in Phoenix, I'm beginning to understand how absolutely impossible it would be to live here without a car. To some extent, this understanding started to form in Ann Arbor, but there, I think, it is merely difficult to get by without a car. Much like Canberra, where I managed without one for six months: it was possible, it was even ok, but I wouldn't want to do it for much longer.

But in Phoenix, it would not even be possible. Not really.

Every time we've needed to go somewhere, we've jumped in the car. To some of those places, I might have walked had I been by myself - but we've often been on our way somewhere else anyway, so the car it is.

Anyway, the sidewalks tend to run out.

And more: no two places we've wanted to go have been in the same general location. There are often only a few shops, cafes, etc in the one small area, and as soon as you are getting in the car anyway, it seems you may as well drive for 20 minutes as for five to go to the place you really want to visit.

The city is, according to my friend and host, A., the fifth largest in the country. Unlike the other large cities in the USA that I've visited (and that's really only two or three, depending what you count as a large city), it feels to me like a collection of very spread out suburbs. On any given trip, I can't tell if we're moving closer to the centre, further away, or just travelling around.

It's like Canberra on steroids in this regard, although without the sheep. Maybe I just haven't been far enough outside the city yet.

On one trip, A. told me we were on the outskirts of the downtown area. It did not feel any less suburban to me.

On another trip, we were heading to the outskirts of the metropolitan area - apparently a little more rural - and while there were a couple of lots with some hay bales, it still just felt suburban to me.

What's more, I am having a very difficult time distinguishing bits of the city from other bits. This is not assisted by the fact that, I'm told, all of the malls are owned by the same company. They certainly look to be. (It's not only the malls.)

As a result, I am experiencing the city in a very different way from the way I normally experience cities. It is, to be honest, a bit disconcerting.

I suppose that's not a bad reason to be here.

Happy Christmas!

I'm in Phoenix, celebrating Christmas with a CS friend and her family.

To those of you who are celebrating: Happy Christmas!

Teahaus

N had pointed me towards Teahaus, and I made it there this afternoon (a perfect day to enjoy a pot of tea).

I ordered some chai, installed myself in a table in the corner and pulled out my knitting and something to read.

The woman at the table beside me asked what I was knitting. I showed her the headband I was copying, but said I was considering making it as a Moebius strip instead of being plaited.

The nice thing about being in a tea shop in Ann Arbor is that assuming the person you are talking to will know what a Moebius strip is a pretty good guess.