Up California St. With Love. 1.

I’m at Trader Joe’s. I’m grocery shopping.

Walking through the aisles and picking stuff.

I learnt about Trader Joe’s just recently. My American roommate told me about it.

I didn’t even know there was such a thing.

I previously used to do all of my grocery shopping at Walgreens. A few blocks down Powell.

I go down Powell on my way to a number of places. The college HQ, events – a lot of places. And the Walgreens logo is pretty conspicuous, so I learnt of the location pretty quickly.

I learnt about Trader Joe’s later. I think it was during Halloween. I was roaming around the city – it was me, a Spanish classmate, and my roommate. We were trying to get costumes. We hadn’t even made up our minds on what we wanted to dress as.

My roommate said he wanted to go get some sushi somewhere.

We said alright.

And then we all went to into this grocery store on California street that I never even knew existed.

I was just walking around like Ohh wait what, there’s this place? Whatt?? All this while I’ve been shopping like Walgreens is the only place to buy stuff – Whattt?

So now I shop at Trader Joe’s every now and then. More frequently than Walgreens actually.

Well not really.

Usually when I shop at Trader Joes I get more stuff, and so there’s a longer span of time before I have to go grocery shopping again.

So I don’t know.

There’s this other store my roommate talks about. Costco.

He says his whole family shops there.

There was this day he came to the room with like two whole suitcases full of groceries. In fact I think they were more than two.

He says at Costco you can get membership cards and this gives you some huge discounts on stuff you buy. So his parents do like family-sized grocery shopping at solid discounts.

Shopping at Costco. Hm. Now I’m curious.

Sounds like such an American thing.

Oh hey look at me shopping at Costco with my membership card and getting huge family-sized discounts.

Such USA, so American ooh.

---

I also recently learnt about 7-Eleven pizza.

I was in the room of a Kenyan classmate. I probably stopped by to chat about something. He had one of his friends around. Also Kenyan. Was studying at UC Berkeley.

As we all chatted and shared laughs, something they were eating caught my eye.

It was pizza.

But the smell though, the smell. Oh man.

It had a very distinct smell.

I asked if I could have a slice. They said sure why not.

Next thing I knew I was asking for a precise description of where they got the pizza.

Wait, so the place is called 7-Eleven right?

Oh there’s a 7-Eleven around Battery street?

Mm, and they’re open twenty-four hours?

Wait, it’s just like ten dollars for the largest size?

Oh there’s another one on Powell?

That evening I became a staunch believer in 7-Eleven pizza.

On a random evening you can find me puffing my way up Powell street, with like two cartons of 7-Eleven pizza in my arms – the largest size of pizza they have.

Sometimes I even get three at once.

The pepperoni pizza is wonderful, the BBQ is okay, and there’s this one that has all sorts of meat stuff ohh.

The hill on Powell is funny.

Sometimes I think about how many calories I could possibly gain from eating three largest-size 7-Eleven pizzas – People think about calories a lot in this place – And I’m pretty convinced I burn pretty much the same amount of calories just getting the pizzas up to my dorm room.

---

I’m in the “Bread” section of Trader Joe’s.

There’s this thing my American roommate introduced me to.

Cinnamon Raisin bread.

Jesus. Jesus Christ.

That thing. That freaking thing.

I mean, initially I had doubts when he suggested I try out some that he bought.

The bread looked weird and mouldy and damp.

I was like ehhh I don’t know, it looks sketchy, I don’t know….

I took one bite and became a convert.

So yeah, on a random day at Trader Joe’s you’ll probably find me stocking my trolley with a customary loaf of Cinnamon raisin bread.

---

I’m at the Cereal section.

I’m making up my mind on some options.

A hand touches me from behind, and slowly snakes its way around my waist.

Very surprised, I turn around to see a cheeky face smiling up at me.

Oh heyyy. Hey you.

---

Image: Somewhere along the Embarcadero.

Kaleidoscope. 1.

I am hungry.

I am very hungry.

I have been here for practically the whole day, making use of the WiFi network of the restaurant next door.

I am not under the delusion that the owner of the restaurant is unaware of this. I think he’s somehow alright with it. He seems like a pretty cool guy. From England. We’ve had brief chats during times when I legitimately patronized his restaurant. Now I’m not buying anything, I’m just sitting next door and using his WiFi.

I am hungry. I am very hungry.

Earlier in the afternoon a Cape Verdean woman invited me up to her apartment. She was smiling at me very widely- I wasn’t quite sure why. We got into her apartment and she began to show me around. Introduced me to her daughter. Took me out to the balcony. All the while grinning at me very widely. I wasn’t quite sure what was happening.

There was some cheese and like bread on the table. I began to help myself to that. I was hungry and I had come across some food. I began to consume it voraciously. That was the one thing that made sense throughout my brief visit to that apartment.

.

It is evening.

I am hungry.

I am very hungry.

I drift towards a group of Cape Verdeans having a small birthday celebration across the street.

The birthday cake is magnetizing me from across the road. I can taste it already. I can feel the icing melting in my mouth.

“Hello. Is this a birthday party? Do you mind if I join?”

I say something like that. Probably with a lot of gesticulations because I am new in Cape Verde, and my Portuguese Creole vocabulary is expectedly diminutive.

He walks over to the celebrant and consults her. She looks at me and takes some time to mull it over.

He walks back over.

“She says you can’t. It’s a small celebration. And it’s private.”

“Alright. Thank you. Thank you very much.”

No birthday cake for me.

---

“Oh wow you’re from France? That is so cool!”

I am in a conversation with an interesting French woman at a house party in San Francisco.

It is Halloween.

A Spanish classmate found out about the house party.

”House Party at the Negev”.

Somehow. I have no idea how. I have no idea how that guy finds out about the very cool events and places he has taken me to. He is such a cool guy. And he’s very tall. Taller than me. There’s an interesting feeling I get when hanging out with people taller than me. I feel like a child. And I feel even more playful that I normally would feel when I am in a good mood. It’s usually a very exciting and freeing feeling.

We’re dressed as Pulp Fiction. My Spanish classmate and I. He is the white guy, and I’m Samuel L. Jackson. I have no idea who the white guy is. I haven’t even really watched Pulp Fiction. My best friend strongly recommended the movie back in university in Nigeria. I tried watching it, but I kept losing concentration, I’m not sure why.

At the parade at the Castro I told someone I was the black guy in Men In Black. Then I remembered it was supposed to be Pulp Fiction.

What the hell – Pulp Fiction, Men in Black, there’s a white guy and there’s a black guy- they’re both in suits and they look cool. That’s who we are.

This house party was supposed to be 21+ but somehow we got in, courtesy of cool Spanish classmate.

This is so exciting.

I go get some glowsticks.

---

I am hungry.

I am very hungry.

There is a group of Cape Verdeans having a small celebration by the side of the road. I think it is a birthday party, but I am not sure.

I walk towards them.

I approach the member of the group closest to me, and what comes out of my mouth is:

“Hello, I am a student from the USA, and I’m currently in Cape Verde on a gap year, do you mind if I join you?”

He doesn’t even wait for me to finish. He grabs me in a warm and energetic embrace.

“You student from USA? Estados Unidos?”

His face is brimming with excitement.

He pulls me over to the other members of the group.

“Escola li! Escola li! Escola Estados Unidos!” Something like that.

Everyone seems happy to have me around.

I don’t mind. I exchange pleasantries with the celebrant, and begin to indulge in the barbecued chicken and red wine.

We have a nice time.

The guy who pulled me over gives me some valuable insights on Cape Verdean life philosophy and organic living.

“Terra Terra!!”

He pronounces the “rr” like a harsh “h”, almost close to a “k”.

“That is from the ground, from the earth!! We live from the earth!!”

“Hmmmm!!! Terra Terra!! From the earth!! Alright! I’m getting you, I’m getting you!!”

I am nodding and smiling excitedly, my mouth active with the mastication of fresh barbecued chicken.

At some point I sneak one unbarbecued chicken thigh into my pocket.

I could go cook this at the studio apartment where I stay. I don’t think my hosts will mind.

I guess these are “Student from the US” privileges.

---

It is my birthday today.

Today I am twenty years old.

I decided to try ice skating this evening. Union square has an ice skating rink, and I thought- Why not? Why not give ice skating a shot?

It has been fun so far. I have fallen a number of times, as expected, but it has been fun regardless.

I saw a woman fall earlier. She had been skating pretty vigorously. I was in immense admiration of her skills. She fell suddenly.  Hit her hip on the ice. It seemed like a pretty bad fall. She got up after like a minute and kept on skating with her partner. I hope she’s alright. I hope she’s alright.

I am getting ideas involving attaching ice skating blades to the underside of a skateboard. I wonder what that’ll be like though. I wonder how it’ll work.

I keep moving forward on the ice. I won’t quite call what I’m doing, skating.

We were at a comedy show earlier. There was me, two Brazilian classmates (who found out about the event), and one Nigerian classmate. And then everyone else at the show. The Brazilians turned twenty one like a few weeks earlier. I am so envious. Now they can legit go for 21+ events. While I’m stuck with 18+. Ugh. The very interesting events are always 21+.

At some point the performers at the comedy show began to pay a considerable amount of attention to me. Use me as a subject of their jokes. In a good way.

It was strange. It was very strange, because they portrayed me as a handsome guy who had absolutely no life problems because of his physical attractiveness.

First, I am still trying to get used to people describing me as handsome. Or physically attractive in any regard. All my life I have never really thought of myself as a handsome or attractive person. I have always perceived myself to be about average in terms of attractiveness. But it seems like things have changed a lot in the past year. Things have to have changed. All of a sudden I’m getting all of this physical attention that was not there before.

Even to the point of being pointed at by a performer who was like “I go out for parties and it’s a herculean task to get women to talk to me but this guy *points at me* has absolutely no such problems”.

I was wondering who he was pointing to.

Another performer did something similar. This one was female. At the end, one of the Brazilians described my experience at the show as “He almost almost got laid by a performer”.

I don’t know what he was talking about.

I don’t know what to do with it though. This whole physical attractiveness thing that people seem to be perceiving. What do you use it for? What is it useful for? I don’t know. I really do not know.

I’ll have to think about it. I’ll really have to think about it.

---

“Onde kuta morra?”

“What?”

“Onde kuta morra?”

“What?”

“Onde kuta morra?”

Okay this isn’t going anywhere.

I am in a settlement behind Espargos, on the island of Sal in the Cape Verdean archipelago.

I am trying to understand what the hell this guy is asking of me.

Google Translate is not quite helping, I’m not sure why.

“Onde kuta morra?”

“What?”

“Morra! Morra! Onde Kuta Morra?”

He is making hand gestures now.

I don’t think my confusion has reduced.

Morra? The fuck does Morra mean?

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Image:

From a night at Shiro – a Pan-Asian Restaurant at Victoria Island in Nigeria. View of the gallery.