Chimera Song Mosaic
Friday, September 08, 2006
Guanine = Cytosine

Back when I was traveling this year and the previous ones, I had some things to say that I wanted to post here, but I'm not sure if I have said them yet or not, and I'm too lazy to search through the archives. What is best is to say it when I first have the urge, better yet to let the incident match up with the time. These things have their own discrete sites on the timeline (I'm picturing DNA chains unraveling and matching proteins with their respective codes), and if I don't respect their attachments, I'm all over the place and can't recall whether or not I have thought that thought already or typed that notion.

So here are a couple of observations, possibly appearing for a second time and out of alignment with respect to their location in time:

One, that when I was in St. Petersburg two summers ago, Marisa and I ran across some cryptic but meaningful chalk drawings on the sidewalk pavement. We didn't have much time to examine these signs because we were in a harried rush to the river to join a midnight tour of the canals. At the time, I speculated that these could be remnants of a chase trail laid by the hares of the Hash House Harriers, and that if we had only followed the clues, we would have ended up in a bar somewhere on the outskirts of the city, drinking fleshy and substantial beer, but after floating across a website today of many intriguing and seemingly irrelevant games, I have now concluded that they must have been the result of a Go Game in action. There's one happening in Austin next month. Do I sign up for it, risking yet more complication in my suddenly overfull life, or do it let it go, like most things? I'm in some kind of manic stage right now where I agree to any kind of commitment coming my way, so I'd better watch out if I don't want to be stretched too thin.

(Okay, now I am SURE that I must have written of this before because I can remember linking to the Hash House Harriers. Oh, Bother!)

(Hello, Colleen!)

Two, that when I was in Dubai this summer, Lance and I were on this tiny, electric boat, and we met this very interesting man. Serving the guests at the classy, Vegasesque megahotel (irony, please) where we were staying, the Mina A' Salam, the boat ferried us two and fro around the complex, which butted up against a beautiful, white sand beach, and the opulent, over the top, luxury hotel Burj Al Arab. The canals were furnished with real seawater, which washed in and out with the tides. Well, the hotel employees ferried us around, not the boat itself, and we met one man from Sri Lanka who was eager to tell us all about the hotel and his situation. He, like many recent immigrants to the U.A.E., was sending money back home, where he could only visit once every four years. He said it was nice working in Dubai, but he missed his home and wished he were able to travel back more often. Dubai is hot year round and especially in the summer, when we visited. He said that he could certainly use a break from the heat. One of the most striking things about him was his eyes, which were bright, pale, aqua; they really stood out against his very reddish skin. He was the first person I met (that I know of) from Sri Lanka, although we met many Filipinos, Indians, and Pakistanis while in Dubai and Doha. Many people expressed a wish to travel home more often, but they Filipinos we met said they were able to get back at least once a year. It is strange how we in the United States consider our country to be the land of immigrants, but so many other places are hosting this experience (for good or for bad).

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