Jun 8th, 2001
Barefoot
Later, Pat, and Khamal, who is a Zorastrian from Bombay, and I headed to a store called “Barefoot.” I was amused to find that all of the store’s workers seemed to receive Pat and Khamal as though they were long-lost friends. Obviously they had been here on more than a few occasions.
Khamal began to gush over the artistic quality of the cushion covers and table mats, saying in an awestruck voice, “Look at these colors, just look at these colors!” I looked at them and they looked interesting, I guess.
We worked our way through the various rooms in Barefoot, stopping in each one as Pat and Khamal gasped and remarked about the various table clothes, sarongs, saris, etc. My ultimate goal was to get to the restaurant in the establishment, but it was something of a walk through quicksand. The building was replete with household items that glowed of vibrant oranges and deep turquoises. There was even a small bookstore where later, Khamal tempted Pat with a book that contained pictures of various beetlenut crackers.
As we walked into the café, a petite white girl with a boyish hair cut and an aqua marine gem stuck to her forehead rushed forward and gave Pat a hug, delightedly exclaiming “I get to see you before you go.”
She had a stack of pictures from her Sister’s wedding that she showed Khamal and Pat. Oohs, Aahs, and statements like “how beautiful,” soon filled the room. I looked at the pictures also and I decided that they looked nice enough.
The white girl was accompanied by an attractive and voluptuous Sri Lankan woman with a posh British accent. She was wearing a button down with slightly flared pants, and generally looked pretty hip. We all sat down together, and Pat ordered creamy spinach quiche, Khamal ordered Aubergines with melted Parmesan, and I had a tuna fish sandwich and a coke.
As we ate, I observed a stream of ants emerge from the ceiling and parade down behind the couch was Pat was sitting, right behind her head. Like the Good Samaritan that I am, I warned her not to lean back lest she receive a baptism of ants.
I listened as the white girl spoke with Khamal about some report that she was writing about Sri Lankan art, while the attractive Sri Lankan woman and Pat spoke about the United States. The Sri Lankan was explaining that she found the United States to be beautiful, but she did not seem to care for the manner in which sexuality was either overly glamorized or overly subdued, implying that a true nature of sexuality was being somehow neglected. I listened with interest but I think that she was a bit concerned about me taking her critique personally, because she concluded her short monologue with “they (Americans) are fine. They’re fine.”
