We discovered it by accident, but the long line out of the door made us curious. We were hungry when we first came here, so we ordered hot sandwich. But everyone else in line ordered their gelato! The only gelato that might deserve such love was Italian Gelato, which I heard from my sister. Instinctively I asked her whether she knew of this little place? Maybe it is another classic Italian Gelato source in SF? But sister’s answer was inconclusive. She has never heard of it. And I did also wonder about the ‘tango’ part of their name. Why Tango? That doesn’t sound very Italian, does it?
Mystery solved! What Tango Gelato serves is Argentina Ice Cream, supposedly to be extra creamy!
“Good Air”. I prefer it’s Chinese name “Bu-yi-nuo-si-ai-li-si”, it sounded more like how the place makes me feel, someplace so far away, as if it is the end of the earth. I’ve never been there, but have met plenty of people who has and have read plenty from people’s travels, novels, and poetry. A place that is filled with romance, sorrow, death, and mystery. Unfulfilled desire, unanswered dreams.
Spent one night at mom’s house this weekend and read some old diaries by me. One entry was a detailed dream where I lived, worked, loved, and struggled in Buenos Aires. Fascinating, as if the live that I would have lived in a parallel universe. As detailed as Sunday farmer’s market by the pier, and the smell of sea and rotten fish invaded “my” apartment then.
A place I might never visit, but have been there so often in my dreams. Heart’s desire.
Grand Thief of Cars
Nicolas Cage’s heart’s desire must be racing and wrecking expensive cars. Watched “Gone in 60 Seconds” over the weekend. Pure entertainment. Cage looked happiest when mischief was conducted with style and passion. Simplicity is moving, sometimes.
Simple Pleasure of a Monday Morning
– Happy cats lying about in the sunlight, rolling on the floor, perched on the breakfast table, watching me making coffee.
– Many fluffy white clouds formed dramatic shapes on the horizon. Sky is blue. Air is crisp and cleansed by the storm of last night. Rain drops on the windshield reflecting tiny rainbows.
– Poetry and instrumental music blasted out of the radio as my car, bathed in the brilliant sunlight, zoomed south on the highway. Oh, yeah, and Mozart.
Life is beautiful. Indead.