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February 1st 2009
Published: February 1st 2009
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I spent today exploring the neighborhood near the hotel. I walked first northeast-ish, finding a river with houses all along it, a monastery, and many birds—a heron, storks (I want to say storks, but they could be cranes) and smaller birds as well. I then went past the hotel the other way to an urban area filled with shops, though I don't need a muffler or a bucket of chicken hearts. I found a park that was both lovely and a little unnerving as giant lizards swam in the water by the path. This area is called “Cobra Swamp” or “Cobra Lake,” and if that isn't sufficient to keep your toes out of the water, the sight of a giant lizard leaping aground with a writhing water snake clutched in its jaws will. Also, there was topiary.

One of my favorite pursuits is Junk Foods of Many Lands (and its sister game, Rotgut of Many Lands). The latter almost certainly means an attempt to drink Mekong Whisky, reputed to be undrinkable without a mixer. The former meant the following taste treats today:

*Milk bread. A packaged slice of white bread, one side saturated with a wet, sweet liquid and covered in wax paper as not to smear disgustingly on the see-through portion of the packet. Too sweet, with no other flavors.
*Chicken-flavored peanuts. A little salty, but not bad, with a distinct chicken bullion taste. The ingredient “chicken powder” gives some cause for concern, especially as it is not “chicken flavor,” a separate ingredient.
*Kiwi-flavored drinkable yogurt. Also sweet but not cloying, with a taste I wouldn't call “kiwi” but can't really characterize, either.
*I defer until later the pleasure of Lay's Nori Seaweed flavored potato chips. There's also soft shell crab and garlic and chili and squid flavor. I really wonder what makes it “soft shell” crab, since I've had Lay's crab flavored chips in Baltimore.
*The pickled mango I had this morning was the best, though.


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2nd February 2009

I'm guessing it means "don't fling" rather than "don't gather," but to m eye is reads as "don't pick up 'dog dirt,'" as they say in Great Britain. As I say to my mother when she asks me to walk the dogs, "I don't pick up excrement with my hands" (using a shorter word than "excrement"), to which she replies, "You're supposed to use a plastic bag."

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