and fumed loud.
And as she
of my place
in the human
race — given
must be replete
with morons and
her otherwise neat
with sailors’ slang
and potty talk,
and ended with
“Fair dinkum, gal,”
smiling the smile
nothing. I sighed
that would send
Today I went for lunch at Boa Down which has been open a couple of months now.
Bao Down has been described to me as a Filipino-fusion taco joint, and that seems fair enough. The place is bright and cheery, with — today at least — loud NSFW hip-hop blasting out. It is dressed like a beachfront cabin, the attractive tables made from irregularly cut wood. With the front window open, the place is perfect for people watching but, if that bores you, they have two large screen TVs.
The menu essentially consists of a number of baos and tacos, each with a more or less exotic filling. I tried the Between Two Worlds bao (braised pork belly, hoisin, pickled daikon and carrot) and the Huli Huli taco (island style chicken breast, pickled papaya, crispy garlic, and radish). They come with a range of homemade hot sauces. The boas and tacos themselves take some chewing. Service was welcomingly minimal and the price — the two dishes plus an oversized portion of Kennebec fries — was about $17.
The food was more than OK and there was the occasional bloom of unusual taste that woke up my palette. But, for me at least, I can’t see this becoming a regular habit.
Turks has been doling out it own unique weirdness for many years now and I don’t stop in there enough. I spent about an hour there late this afternoon and they really do have the best patio on the Drive. In location it is matched by Havana and Fet’s, but at Turks you need only spend $2.60 for a coffee to enjoy the Drive’s street cabaret and the always fascinating happenings at Grandview Park.
I found a seat in the doorway to the patio, half in and half out of the shade. There I sat and watched and listened and sipped my very good coffee.
This evening, the warm sunshine has brought out to the Park perhaps two dozen street people, travellers, and their acquaintances. There are plenty enough low concrete walls for everyone to sit in the shade; and they talk and smoke dope, play music, dance, dispute, debate, and generally have a fine old time. Passers-by can look down on them, if they must, but these folks keep our Park lively and interesting and are a community we need to embrace. They have no effect on either the children’s playground or the Bike Polo court, both of which remain busy and active.
The “vehicle” types on the street in this hour included cars, buses, small trucks, skateboards, mobility scooters, Vespas, motorcycles and, of course, a lot of bikes.
The range of humanity walking in the sidewalk was even more diverse. I bet that in that hour every colour and shade from across the globe was represented in the passers-by; tall and short, adolescent and elderly, of every gender. I caught snatches of 8 or 9 different languages — 10 if you include broad American accents. Dogs of every description also made their appearances, some, it appeared, walking about on their own, while others were delivered by car and handed from one carer to another.
And in the distance, through the trees, the highrises of downtown could be discerned. And I sat with my cooling coffee glad to be here on the Drive and not there in a forest of concrete.