Aug. 8th, 2008 05:03 pm
Something to remember
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muckefuckMy friends can tell you that I'm not much for shopping even at home, so you can imagine how little I do it on vacation. Buying souvenirs is never something I've made a habit of; my mementos are the kind of things you pick up incidentally like ticket stubs and pamphlets. Occasionally I'll buy a clutch of postcards or a t-shirt that really catches my fancy.
With that in mind, I whittled my potential purchases down to three: Something for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
monshu, something for Noé (a work friend from LA), and something for Jay to repay him and his family for their kindness and kimchi. Noé just wanted a hat or cute t-shirt; for the others, I was thinking in terms of food. monshu dearly misses the apricots one can get in CA and this seemed like a proper tit-for-tat for the Korean edibles.
Unfortunately, I ended up putting off everything to the last minute. It was sheer luck that I stumbled upon a farmers market on my way to the airport Wednesday. First I hit the vegetable stands, but no one had apricots. Fine, I settled on some nice ripe nectarines. While casting about for other food products, I spotted some gorgeous fresh mushrooms at unbeatable prices.
But how to get these to Chicago? The seller advised against gaff-taping two styrofoam containers together "because they should really be allowed to breathe." I was worried that a paper bag would mean only crushed mushroom pieces when I landed in Chicago seven hours later. Another customer suggested buying a cardboard box from one of the berry sellers, but I found the lovely matron in the next booth wouldn't sell to me; she simply gave me the boxes for free.
There was plenty of room left over after buying a big helping of tree oysters, so I let the reserved bear cutie talk me into getting some "king mushrooms" to fill out the box. As I left, another customer advised me to stow it in the overhead bin "and don't forget it like I did!" "I won't forget it!" I called back. Extremely pleased with myself, I stopped by the tamale stand at the entrance to pick up some dinner for the flight, figuring I'd have a chance to buy a hat at the airport.
I was already on the BART platform when I realised my mushrooms were nowhere to be found. Did I set them down at the tamale stand? At the BART ticket machine? Wherever, it wasn't important now--all that mattered was that I was now shroomless and there was no time to go back before the next train rolled in. I had the whole trip to the East Bay to flog myself for being such a numbskull.
But there was more disappointment ahead of me: The souvenir shops at the Oakland airport were not at all what I hoped. Not only was the selection dismal, it was completely locally oriented. Who the fuck wants a t-shirt from the Oakland Zoo? (I mean, except five year-old girls.) Defeated, I limped back to my departure gate.
At leastmonshu liked the nectarines. As for the others...maybe I can pick up a Giants cap at a local sporting goods store. I'm still at a loss for the Koreans. As a result, today for lunch I had to hike all the way across town to the pita shop to avoid the possibility of running into Jay or Noé empty-handed.
With that in mind, I whittled my potential purchases down to three: Something for
monshu, something for Noé (a work friend from LA), and something for Jay to repay him and his family for their kindness and kimchi. Noé just wanted a hat or cute t-shirt; for the others, I was thinking in terms of food. monshu dearly misses the apricots one can get in CA and this seemed like a proper tit-for-tat for the Korean edibles.Unfortunately, I ended up putting off everything to the last minute. It was sheer luck that I stumbled upon a farmers market on my way to the airport Wednesday. First I hit the vegetable stands, but no one had apricots. Fine, I settled on some nice ripe nectarines. While casting about for other food products, I spotted some gorgeous fresh mushrooms at unbeatable prices.
But how to get these to Chicago? The seller advised against gaff-taping two styrofoam containers together "because they should really be allowed to breathe." I was worried that a paper bag would mean only crushed mushroom pieces when I landed in Chicago seven hours later. Another customer suggested buying a cardboard box from one of the berry sellers, but I found the lovely matron in the next booth wouldn't sell to me; she simply gave me the boxes for free.
There was plenty of room left over after buying a big helping of tree oysters, so I let the reserved bear cutie talk me into getting some "king mushrooms" to fill out the box. As I left, another customer advised me to stow it in the overhead bin "and don't forget it like I did!" "I won't forget it!" I called back. Extremely pleased with myself, I stopped by the tamale stand at the entrance to pick up some dinner for the flight, figuring I'd have a chance to buy a hat at the airport.
I was already on the BART platform when I realised my mushrooms were nowhere to be found. Did I set them down at the tamale stand? At the BART ticket machine? Wherever, it wasn't important now--all that mattered was that I was now shroomless and there was no time to go back before the next train rolled in. I had the whole trip to the East Bay to flog myself for being such a numbskull.
But there was more disappointment ahead of me: The souvenir shops at the Oakland airport were not at all what I hoped. Not only was the selection dismal, it was completely locally oriented. Who the fuck wants a t-shirt from the Oakland Zoo? (I mean, except five year-old girls.) Defeated, I limped back to my departure gate.
At least
monshu liked the nectarines. As for the others...maybe I can pick up a Giants cap at a local sporting goods store. I'm still at a loss for the Koreans. As a result, today for lunch I had to hike all the way across town to the pita shop to avoid the possibility of running into Jay or Noé empty-handed.Tags: