Monsoon has arrived early this year, just in time for my friend Ann-Kathrin‘s visit from Germany. If all goes according to the plans of the meterologists, it will be raining for the duration of her 3-week stay. If all goes according to our plan, it will rain only at night or while we are watching movies and editing photographs. So far, we are winning. Either way, we don’t care all that much. Ann gets to explore this wonderfully wacky place called Asia and I have a friend here to do my America’s Next Top Model impression for. Let’s just say I can’t quite smile with my eyes like Tyra can. Yet.
People in my neighborhood have gotten used to seeing me walk around and for the most part don’t stare much. But now there are two of us. As a pair, we are conversation-stoppers. Literally. We’ve silenced whole subway cars just by walking onto the train. It doesn’t help that we are also two camera nerds who are not taking photos of anything comprehensible but are instead shooting phonebooths, squid tanks and our shoes.
This afternoon we dragged our weary asses to Olympic Park, site of the 1988 Summer Games. It is not far from my house and now I am kicking myself for not having visited earlier. The park is a vast tangle of wooded trails and flower gardens, again with piped-in soft music, views of the mountains and a whole lot more we didn’t even see. Because we were too busy eating a hot dog on a stick and taking these Asian portraits:
And then I posed with this guy: