Confucious

I ate breakfast today at an ultra hippy die. A man sat at the table next to me flipping through his sketchbook at what looked to be perfectly vectorized black markings. He looks like Confucious. He turned to me as I garcefully mixed my museli and asked if I was Japanese. I smiled and said I was Chinese. Intrigued. He said, him too. Halfers. Reunited. He was cute.

I quite liked this place so I went back in the afternoon for a shake and some internet time. I inquired if he taught art, he told me he could do whatever I wanted for 1000 BAH. Unfortunately I'm backpacking and pretty much too cheap for even a 30 BAH tuk tuk ride (PS 30 BAH is approximately $1 CAN, yes, I'm pinching my pennies).

On my way home from the Night Bazaar I again stopped by for some food and some fresh carrot juice. He told me to sit down, it'll taste like home. Cute.

After I paid he gave me a little pep talk. As if he knew my woes in life. Mind reader? He told me I had hands. I should use them. Using our hands will make us happ. It is our own accomplishments. We wash ourselves with our own hands. We clothe ourselvs with our own hands. We cook for ourselves with our own hands. We can't just be happy for one or two days. We must be happy all the time, he says. He told me that when I eventually go back home, I will do this. I will do it because everyday we learn. Everyday there is a problem, but no problem because we, with our hands, will fix it. We learn to deal with problems and we be happy.

Now this inspiring broken english conversation would have continued, but we were rudely interupted by a one legged, drunken, German man who wouldn't stop calling until Mr. Wise went over to him. I quietly snuck passed the drunken mess while the halfer was tending to his situation, grabbed my shoes and told myself I would be back for breaky. They are afterall, the only place that I've seen to offer brown bread. Hallelujah!

Photo: this is the man punching rice paper creating delicate designs. Ever so pretty.