Selling Sno-Cones at the Beach

books, books, books

I was thinking so hard about the meaning of place - Venice to Henry James more specifically - that I almost forgot to get off the tram at my stop.

I am trying not to think about the heat, since no relief is in sight. A lukewarm shower works - for at least 10 minutes you feel half-human again.

Interesting afternoon. Stymied at the library, since I hadn't read the fine print about their bizarre opening hours this week, I went to a whole row of bookshops, and actually purchased three things.

1. Lost in Translation, for the plane ride home, if I can wait that long (probably not).
2. Maciej Miezian's guidebook on Nowa Huta, which I've been looking for for awhile.
3. A guidebook for Krakow in Polish, with a lengthy section on NH, which I'll use as a representative sample.

I should do some homework instead of saving it for the early morning, but...

I found to my surprise that I was able to ask rudimentary questions and better, understand the answers, in shops. Reviewing my stack of verb flashcards in the bar this afternoon (they have AC now, and cigarette smoke too but the first makes the second tolerable) I was struck by how much I would know, if only I remembered everything we'd been taught in the last two years of Polish class. Ah well - get by for the next few weeks, and then on to the next thing.