Trin Carl's Blog

[image error]

[image error] As of now, Isabel the teacher coordinator of the London Arts School had made arrangements for the both Sasha and Kamila to have a lunch she could give them an orientation of the school and make them aware of the ethics of the school, the code of conduct, vacations, direct deposit, scheduling, and the core of what they would be teaching.  They were to go to a cafe nearby, and luckily enough that afternoon it was sunny and gave both Sasha and Kamila a chance to relax their eyes on some of the residential surroundings in London. 





The houses they passed were brick, some yellow, some with white hinges.  They walked over thin bridge, with the bordering of River Thames, to keep them company, that and weeping willow trees.

Kamila and Sasha couldn't help themselves make comments as they followed and practically chased the coordinator as she walked viciously, fast, and they trailed her through the subway stations and they made comments about the underground Tube system. 



"Ain't this just like a futuristic movie! said Kamila, she was running her hands over the various newspapers stalls that sold your everyday conveniences, candy, water, refreshments, phone cards, and what-have yous.[image error]

Sandra made the choice to do the food review once and for all.  Joe and her went back to Safari restaurant, and decided to go with  pasto (Somalian style).  It was Friday.  

 Afterwards, they hit the mosque, shoes were in the corner of the floor.  They decided to make a day out of it, from there, they hit a local Somalian mosque.  Random Somali's were poking their heads out of their individual owned stores to see who exactly Sandra and her Asian friend.  Sandra was getting caffeinated with her drink of choice: shay and chocolaty muffins.  Her and Joe decided to sit, on stools in one of the cafes and while they did so, they overheard bits and pieces of one Somalian girl's dream: 

"I want a chariot in my wedding. My wedding is going to be off the chain," she said, in between bits of chicken wings and hot sauce, her lip gloss was just barely falling off her lips.

"I'm getting married this summer," she said. "That's if my father will let me....You know he came up to work the other day, searching for me?..... I was on my way to meet Ahmed, and luckily enough Muna covered for me, I told her to tell him, that I was off work and she told him that I was at the library."



"Walihee," the girl's friend said, in an arabic response.  Meaning:You Swear?  "I can't believe Muna covered for you," the girl continued.











[image error]

[image error]

The cleaner unhooked the metal handle off the gate's hinges and walked over to Bernardo, thinking of how this women wrapped herself around the business of this, what seemed to be -drunken bastard-











"Well see ahhh, I can give you a hand", said the cleaner, "but I'll need to be back at the Park's conservatory in an hour." 



"Ah huh" , Sheila stated, her vision now, taking on landslides of double-triple vision.



[image error]

"Bernardo!" You half lazy pendejo...A park cleaner stopped at the gate observing Sheila, Sheila hoped he hadn't just seen her kick Bernardo in the gut.  "Hiya, Can I be of service?" The park cleaner was suited up in an all Blue, body suit.  His rake and gloves, in his other hand. He'll do, thought Sheila.  "Yes, hellooooo, she said, forgetting her fake British accent.   "My friend here is having a hard time, I thought if I could only get him a cup of...of...of...",she stammered for a moment, thinking.  "Espresso", the cleaner said, finishing her thoughts.   "Yes" yes espresso was the drink of choice, here in the old country, thought Sheila."Yes espresso" her stammer more apparent as her thoughts were slowly piecing together a plan of slow deliberation... 






 

[image error]

"Bernardo!!!"   She spoke one again.



 Her eyesight obviously resolving to the fact that the espresso concoction, that took her into the past, in the first place was bearing its weight on her.



For as she looked for resources in her surroundings: A blurred vision of a 21st century, black, sleek moped stood perched up against on the outside of the park:Where one should have witnessed a carriage or at least a small bed of grass, as Sheila was supposed to have gone into the past, the 18th century to be precise, NOT the 21st.  If she didn't get Bernardo up at that moment, and rush him back to the past: something was bound to happen...

 Masheng with me. [image error]

Bernardo!!!!Wake Up!!!!!!!!!She screamed.  Her eyes growing huge..the exactometer was dying down as it should have, considering Sheila made it to her destination, its red and yellow beaded light onl taking on a small glow now.  Sheila glanced around;noticing no one in particular, as she kicked Bernardo in his gut, a small kick for a woman of her proportions: scones and donuts having done a number on her: back at the coffee shoppe.












[image error]

Bernardo was found sitting in the park.  The fact that Sheila found him was quite the luck,..



Under 3 sections of the newspaper, he was laying, ruffled dirty, clothes strewn around him despite the fact that the sun was rising and obviously warmer than it had been the night before.  The park itself was enclosed, oval shaped, with two walk ways coordinating paths that wrapped themselves around flower beds.



 





Its center fountain was surrounded with colored tiles.  Parks like this could only be found in crowded cities where some park conservationist thought it would be important to the the well being of one and all.  The park was for lonely young women, the poor, and where mothered could take their tykes.[image error]

 Sandra stared out, "Is this right place? I know I have a cousin who lives down on Louis and cradle but this couldn't be it." The words alone stuck out like a Indian market, screaming hot and musty, "BIG BANGERS DELI", in red intoxicating letters, three feet high each, and the top was the shape of the Taj Mahal.  "Okay I guess this is is, what other Eastern deli would have the Taj Mahal as its pinnacle? "

Walking in, a tall, lanky guy brushed past her, in a plaid buttoned, down shirt, rolled up sleeves and gray khaki pants, plus a belt that held up his pants tightly, as if there was anything at all to hold in, after all.



This guy reeked of common seeds and sweat, his big, bulging glasses were the last thing she noticed before entering the establishment.  Walking in; it was noon rush, and the place was jumpin'; families with small tykes strode everywhere, it was Friday, she was surprised though at how so many people managed to decide to come here, all at one time.





On the far corner was a family of four Hindus, on the right corner; an Egyptian famil,  two tables over was group of Somali men, and in front of her were three tables full of older, Indian women; sitting with saris tucked over themselves, their voices seemingly being the only ones in a hushed manner.



Loud gestures came from the far table, "slap, slap crunch crunch." A mixture of conversations is all she heard:



"No, no no you got it all wrong", a debate in full throttle at the Somalian table.

  "Don't let me tell you, what happened,"



 "It was at work",



"You don't say"

 "That couldn't have happened to my poor Pishon" coming from the Hindu table. And from the other far table, you won't be sorry, this is something I've been telling you it happens to us all.





Sandra's interview with the deli man went hazily, she remembered....So after that, she decided to make a brief run in with Josephine, another Muslim girl who she remembered spending days with at a similar deli.Upon entering Josephine's house, Josephine gave her the low down on what was happening to some kids from her high school, and asked Sandra what she was up to.







Joe seemed mildly impressed and made it her business to ask about Chris, Lalise, Miles and Riley as well as other kids they sat with, at lunch,  in high school.  Josephine -Joe they called her...was intrigued to know about the goings-on of some people. and spoke her mind rather indignantly at some responses.



"That ain't right, I know you all used to be friends", and continued her slang with "that's why I'm asking.  You heard about  Milo? Yeah, he served some time for drug obsession.....ah huh, I swear that's why I'm tryin' to do something with my life, Yeah me and my daughter live over there on Halifax , we tryin' to get a permanent place further up north, closer to my work, yuh know what I'm sayin'? Cuz my mom's lives over there and yeahhhhhh girl, we don't want to be on the bus all the time, too many hood rats."







She stopped suddenly to glance at a Buick pullin' out of the driveway. Sandra glanced too, wandering if she recognized the individual.





Joe continued, "Well, yuhhh see that? Reggy, my ex, had tossed my stuff out, and then he tried to come and find me, but I ain't hearin' none of that cuz I got to be at work. My friends in the hospital, I'm headin' over there right now, taking the 5."



"Oh, I'll right I should get goin' " said Sandra. The sun was beginning to set, and Sandra still had to get home to jot some notes on the deli, before dark, and before writing ideas were depleted.  She had a few calls to take care of as well, for Ron, the studio's manager who wanted her to ask her about the studio's mortgage and if they were making ends meet this month.  She hoped so, as this was the month that she'd return to school, and there were many things to do.











Josephine sat looking at her.  Sandra knew what was going to happen this happened every time she tried to leave Joe's house...And she really didn't have time for it.  She had a few more hours to put together things at her home, and she didn't really have time for this nonsense....But Joe did it once more.."You want some Chapati?" she asked.





"Chapatti.  Where the heck did Joe learn to cook Chapatti?"Sandra mused.  Sandra was tired, she took a her diet coke that she brought with her, from her car, and sat down on the sofa, she wandered for how long Joe would be in the kitchen fumbling around behind the shaded door that ran, but she just decided to fish out her cell, and call a few people while she waited...A fast meal on her way out, "Why not?" she thought











Joe was a short,  Asian girl, whose family immigrated from Laos.  Attentive, creative and hard working: she lived in a four, bedroom home, on Lexington.  Her home smelled of cat, FUD, and had a look of an artist, brightly featured with an art room mural with cats  that wore sweaters, and characters that resembled veggie tales.  Green painted rustic walls, and an Aztec looking painting.  Her bedroom was in the right corner, a small door way led into it.  A high, ceiling doorway led into a high, ceiling kitchen, with plants.  The aura felt unfamiliar, yet pleasant, with books, antique radiophones, and more plants.  The upholstery reeked of white cat hair, that stuck to chest drawers that held stereo equipment not entertainment centers.  It was not the run of the mill emptiness, that made most homes.  It was the home of natives, juxtaposed with an elder feeling, crafty reefs hung on the doors."Home Sweet Home".  All throughout the house you found technology on top of technology, Wii boxes sitting on top of clock radios, clock radios, sitting over grey stereo systems, held there by shoe boxes that stood as their base, instead of shelves...



The whole house felt like you were stepping out of one garage sale, only to step into the home of another garage sale, picturesque. 



Josephine could tell you stories of friends.  Friends of intelligent people she knew from around the globe.   Friends who came to the US only to graduate and look for jobs that would make them a lot of money...their individual situations changing, but somehow managing to be the same...





As Sandra sat there she thought of the front yard of her own house, you expected that the kitchen would be as pleasant. The bathroom was the only place unexploited by all the art and such.  Yes, Josephine may have been peculiar but some things suggested otherwise, some things suggested that the only thing Josephine did was study and eat in the home. 



Josephine was the "go to" person for anything that was to be done, or planned out, she had her hands in the pots of many and could put together a feast for 20 without thinking twice about it...



 "I grew up with 11 brothers and sisters" is what she said all the time....Thinking of this Sandra walked into the kitchen.  "Can i be of any help in here?" Sandra asked Joe. Joe gave her a chopping knife and told her to start chopping, my eyes are going to start crying, she said.  And Sandra knew her strength in  this area, and just started chopping alongside her..







And with that, Joe she was back to cutting onions and tossing them into a frying band with the quick shuffling of the cutting knife across the board....When you talked to Joe, Sandra thought, you talked to her while she was cooking. Joe must be in her own world...standing just below the cabinetry that flooded its orange light at you from above, and a women's makeup mirror placed just in the right corner, so that when you were cooking, you weren't just cooking, you were reminding yourself like a driver in a car looking in the rear view mirror, that you were on a mission, and your hair and your appearance needed to be in place while you did just that..and so with that you looked on, and continued talking with your friends, and gossipped and talked about the newest languages you were learning, and what the words meant to you.....

More on Sandra in an earlier post:



http://trincarl07.blogspot.com/2010/07/sandra.html 

http://trincarl07.blogspot.com/2010/07/brenda.html

http://trincarl07.blogspot.com/2012/01/sandra-finally-made-it-to-her-own-home.html[image error]