St Patrick’s Day, 2013
Out to the bar, Newmans,
oldest establishment in St Paul
since 1887 with wild hogs with teeth bared, moose heads lolling above,
decapitated alligator staring from the walls made for a lively atmosphere. I
did dance a bit and have had little repercussion in my ankle which is great
though I am still not able to squeeze into my fashionable boots (yes, I did
find some of my winter items stored in the pull barn.)
In Brasil, the norm was
sharing a big bottle of beer and a cachaca drink (hard core moonshine-like
liquor loaded with ice, limes and spoonful after spoonful of sugar. Large
platters of breaded fish, French fries, breaded chicken and pastels are also divided
and conquered by the group. The cachaca glass is drained from one hand to the
next and another ordered without much discussion about it.
I kept my hands to myself
at Newmans but it was tempting to reach across the table and swipe a sweet
potato fry or nab a bite of a tasty sandwich. I drank my own beers and asked
for a taste of someone’s tequila or whiskey when curious. I miss the communal social
aspect of being out at the bar yet I will get used to it just like the snow and
cold, I don’t have much of a choice now do I?
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