Jut! (continued)

[Contrary to what some people may think, when things start to double and float out of focus for me I’m just simply overly tired. I almost fell asleep hugging my computer last night- as in I drifted in and out between paragraphs, then sentences and finally words of the last post. So sorry about the abrupt ending and leaving out the best part of the day yesterday!]

… after class I called Sheila who turned out to be already back in my hood, at the Lidl across the street and then chilling out the Laundromat café at the corner of my street. I picked up some “2euro für 2kilo“ grapes and headed home right after class for the first time since I’ve gotten here. It felt weird.

We dropped off stuff at the apartment and headed out for some dinner. We had thought we wanted to go to one of the Indian places, but I walked by it on my way back and there were only two people eating there. So we headed for Ubereck, a place on the corner of Sonntagstr. (Sunday str.), like a block and a half from my apartment. We looked at the menu written out on the chalkboard and then sat down at an outdoor table. Looked at the menu at the table and it seemed to only have drinks and was advertising a Monday night movie night at some café called Bettenhaus. Weird. Well, actually it turns out that we had sat down at a Bettenhaus table as the outdoor seating for the two cafes just sort of blends together!

We got up, moved around the corner (I'm coming back for the movie on Monday though...) to a table hidden from the Betterhaus view and waited once again for the menu. Turns out the menu doesn’t exist in print form, but the homemade goulash doesn’t belong on a menu – it was out of this world. As was the very friendly server and the guy living in the apartment building next door to the café, who rolled up on his bike, ordered his drink as he rode by and then came down after taking in his bike and stuff. Or the guy sitting behind Sheila who instead of looking at the menu, looked at our food as he was sitting down and also ordered the goulash and then proceeded to comment to the waiter later that we were speaking “some foreign language.”

After a very enjoyable, long dinner, Sheila and I headed home so that she could pack. During that super long (not at all) one block walk, we walked by a t-shirt printing place that I’ve walked by numerous times on my way to the subway and where the “heavy mädel” (mädel = girl) shirt on a funky creepily smiling mannequin has intrigued me for some time now. At first we saw nothing of interest really, but then upon leaving, the “kann karate” shirt with the cute yellow chick running across the front caught Sheila’s eye. What followed was the confirmation that people in Europe (read store owner) think that Calgary is famous and I made a new friend who promised to print an extra shirt for me if any cool new designs came in over the next two weeks. And he gave Sheila a 20 cent discount. Sweet.