Tuesday, December 13, 2005
Chris thought up a joke this morning: What do you call a piano that's been assembled from pieces of other pianos? Answer: Frankensteinway. At 7:53 AM today I'm leaving to meet Mike P at Starbucks. As I'm walking up to Starbucks, he sees me just an instant before I see him, and he says, "Don't go in there. I'm gonna take you to the best coffee in Honolulu." I think about a dozen instantly jealous tourists had overheard him and in a few seconds we are walking down Kalakana Avenue a few blocks to the Sheraton and we enter Honolulu Coffee. It's very clean inside with great lighting design and some unusual richly brownish colored ceiling fans which Patrick would like. Only a few people are in line ahead of us and within a minute or two we realize there's some kind of problem—a register or credit card machine or something isn't working properly so the line isn't moving. It doesn't matter to us because we have time for a delay. The workers figure out how to use a second register as a backup, but by the time we get to the register, one person in front of us has abandoned the idea of getting Honolulu Coffee, and the line behind us has grown to about 4 times as long as when we arrived. While we wait, someone's drink order is ready and called out: "Grande iced skinny mocha nowhip!" We get our coffee and walk over to Mike's. Mike #2 (as he is sometimes known) is at work; today is Mike's day off. He has to be home for the plumber to arrive and he wants to make pfefferneuse from a recipe his mom sent to him in a letter she appeared to have typed on a typewriter. Mike realizes he accidentally bought corn syrup instead of molasses, so I'm sent to Food Pantry to get some. When I return, I realize I left my rental car in the metered parking lot and rush off to move the car. Fortunately, there's no ticket! I get back to Mike's. The plumber hasn't shown up even after Mike called the building manager and gave them an extra hour of window. Mike lets me try on a few Hawaiian shirts—I pick one I like to borrow in case I go to a luau or something. We leave and Mike takes me in Mike #2's Jeep and we drive downtown. Along the way we listen to Esquivel's Merry Xmas—it's festive. We arrive at the Honolulu Academy of Art (900 S. Bretania Street, Honolulu). The museum is a very nice experience—there's a little of everything: Thomas Moran, Rodin, Monet, but the first one we see is the featured exhibit: "From the Fire: Contemporary Korean Ceramics." Most of it I like and only some of it made me think, "How did this get in here?" The first sentence I read on the introduction text card at the beginning of the exhibit says, "Today, Korea's contemporary ceramic artists stand at a crossroads." and immediately I cringe, then laugh. We are seated for lunch in the museum's cafe which is also where Chris used to work as a waitron. Mike has a Nicoise salad, I have a duck salad, Anna is our server. While we eat, Mike recommends North Beach places to eat in San Francisco: Mario's Cigar Shop (panini sandwiches across from a church) and Bix. The food and service are excellent. For dessert, we share butterscotch pudding, which is perfectly flavored. Before it arrived, I feared it would be too sweet, like a butterscotch hard candy, but it's not—it's perfect. After lunch, we return to the exhibits. The museum is almost empty. As a San Francisco resident, I'm not used to having a museum room, much less an entire museum, all to myself. I particularly like each of the various courtyards: one is Mediterranean, another is Asian, and so forth—each has its own character and charm. After the museum we drive to a nearby Safeway and park. Across the street we check out a new home furnishings store he wants to see called Pacific Home. Nice stuff, but we buy nothing. Groceries at Safeway. Mike gives me a driving tour of downtown and Chinatown. We pick up Mike #2 from work and drive back to their place. I fall asleep in the lounge chair while Mike prepares dinner and Mike #2 steps out to get a baguette. Chris and Nate come over, and we eat: salad with assorted toppings, penne in red sauce with sausage. The pfefferneuse comes out perfectly. Mike attempts to serve it from a ziploc bag, but I demand a serving plate. He gets one, and Nate and I both think he's going to set the plate down and put the ziploc bag on top of it, but he does spill a few out onto the plate and we enjoy them and laugh. We talk about race-related slang in the military, the date upon which the winter solstice falls, daylight saving time, Mike #2's giant movie collection, Jesus and athletics, tiki tissue boxes, San Francisco weather and hoods, Frankensteinway pianos. No one knows the proper pronunciation of pfefferneuse and after a while I simply fake a sneeze into my hand instead of attempting to pronounce the word. Mike #2 falls asleep in the lounge chair while we watch episodes of Family Man on DVD. I've never seen it before, and it's funny in parts but I am mostly unimpressed. Nate seems to enjoy it a lot. We say our goodbyes and drive to Starbucks for chai. I look for floaty pens for Joel and find some, but they are layered in dust and don't look new, so I'm suspicious and choose to not buy them and get some other things instead. We walk out on a breakwater to observe the city and water night landscape. The sky is clear, the moon is newly full, the sound of the waves is peaceful. We drive home. Before bed, I'm given a small heating pad which had been dug out of a closet—it's so warm! I stay up late to read Niffenegger. I stop at around 1:30 AM at page 471 (paperback, first harvest edition 2004)—nearly done!