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Dangerous Compassions

Punjabi restaurant gas station fantasy

lm

Hello, my darling Ming has written a travel guest post for you: Punjabi restaurant gas station fantasy.  I hope you enjoy.

from Ming

So the Punjabi restaurant gas station rest stop had nothing but fried foods like fried chicken and french fries.  But there was a tiny little sign for samosas.

We had the idea that the password “samosas” would have brought down the Punjabi disco ball, pop out the Punjabi food items, and the electronic signs of menus would have turned into Punjabi menus.

yum

Ok, now it’s me Laura-Marie again.  We laughed and laughed afterward, so happy, thinking of dancing and eating the delicious food.  Our Punjabi restaurant gas station fantasy.

Ming also wrote these two paragraphs below about a welcome respite in northern Nevada, after a long, grueling time traveling down the chimney of Idaho.  I like the temperature metaphor.

Ming’s restaurant review

Las Arenitas Sushi Restaurant had sushi and Mexican food. Moderately priced and multicultural in a town where I was experiencing intense weirdness, maybe blatant racism.

Pleasant temperatures prevailed inside here, where the heat of harsh attitudes had been outside, everywhere in the town of Winnemucca. This oasis was very welcomed.

relief

I love Ming’s relief.  He is such a good person, with love in his heart and desire to help, be fair, be kind.  To see others harsh on him for being a person of color or just an outsider makes me cry.

Thank you to the friends who listened to me cry and rage on the phone.  We are learning a lot and making progress.

I’m sorry that parts of the western United States are so brutal.  I’m sorry so many of us feel the need to stick to the coasts, in order to maintain our safety.  Sometimes I feel like people are so mean that I don’t want to play anymore.  Trying to nurture, care, and improve culture with kindness feels like a lost cause: chucking riches into a bottomless pit.

But what else are we on earth to do, but love one another.  I give up sometimes, cry a lot, and try again the next day.

By Laura-Marie

Good at listening to the noise until it makes sense.

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