mercredi, février 21, 2007

Indian Anus-God watches me eat

No, seriously. DJ and I went out for dinner after work to a vegetarian restaurant near La Chapelle that served South Indian fare. I had been there before with another colleague back in the fall, at which point she had pointed out one rather unusual aspect of the décor. On the wall overlooking the dining room, there's a *large* cut-out image of a god, bedecked in feminine jewlry--except she's a butt with eyes, playing the flute out of her mouth/anus. No kidding.

I really wanted to take a picture but a combination of forgetfulness and uncertainty as to how to explain my actions ("Yes, I find your pantheon amusing") prevented me from doing it. Nonetheless, I'm determined to eventually get a picture and post it. If anybody out in the blogosphere can identify what particular deity this image represents (and where s/he fits into the vedic epics), I'd be a better person for it.

Anyway, the food was great. We both had dosas, although I tried the special "ceylon dosa," which turned out to be a whole bunch of fluffy super-thin omelets with nothing inside. On the way out, the waiter stopped DJ at the door, saying he had forgotten to charge us for the gulab jamun (fried dough in syrup, pretty much); I walked over and looked at the bill and noted that he had charged us for a cardamom tea that I never got (and I had ordered mint, anyway). He blinked and said "Oh, OK" and it was over. I have that feeling that if we were in the states, he would've felt compelled to re-do the transaction, just to be accurate.

After that, we wandered over to Point Éphémère for a drink. There was some art installation in the far room that we promptly ignored, preferring to get drinks from the bar and grab a seat in the café area. The bar itself is really nice (although a bit over-lit), and entirely different from the club/theatre area that I had partied in 6 months ago for the Katapult afterparty during the Techno Parade. My only complaint was that the DJ (who was at the top of what looked like a fire escape / catwalk access) cranked up the volume as if the café were in fact a club. It became increasingly difficult to hear each other and I came close to screaming myself hoarse. On the upside, he played a few venerable electroclash tracks that really took me back to 2002-4. Sigh.

If you told me in 2004 I'd be feeling nostalgic about that moment by 2007, I'd have smacked you upside the head.

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