I don't trust it

Loki Takes New York, Day 7: The Human Female Has Gone Walkabout

The human male’s knee is bothering him even more today, because he didn’t take it as easy as he should yesterday.  The human female, who I suspect has NO nurturing instincts whatsoever, rather than stay at the hotel to take care of him, has gotten it into her head to explore some of the outer reaches of the city on her own.  Apparently she wants to look at places in some book she read.

As hare-brained as that notion is, I actually like this plan.  Divide and conquer.  If I tag along, I can annoy her without the human male interfering.  And maybe I can get her good and lost.  That would be fun!

So here we are, on the 7 train headed for one of the eastern bouroughs.  Sign has joined us because she heard the female talking about a garden.  “Garden” is the magic Sigyn word.  It works even better than “please.”

We have arrived.  But where are we?  Mortal, are you sure we are in the right city?  And not in some foreign country?  I can’t read any of the signs!  (Well, all right.  That one down there says, “pharmacy,” but what about the others?!)

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There are a number of fruit sellers, and on this blazing hot day, their succulent wares are quite tempting, but again, I can’t read what anything is.  Those look like watermelons, but who knows what’s inside?

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I think the human really may be lost.  She has been standing on the street for a quarter of an hour now, alternately checking the map on her phone, the file of landmarks on her phone, and the “you are here” signpost on the sidewalk.  (Of course, it doesn’t help that I magicked the sign on the post so that it has north at the bottom.)  It’s gonna take her a while to figure it all out.

Rats and hurrah!   She has discovered my little trick and correctly oriented herself (boo!), but she has achieved her destination and Sigyn is happy.

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This place is rather pretty for a site that used to be an ash and slag heap.  You see what can be done with a little effort, mortal?  This should fire you up and go home and do something with that disgrace you call a “garden.”

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There is a quaint little bridge over a tiny waterfall.  It feels very good to be in the shade after traipsing about and riding the subway all day.

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The calendar is suspended somewhere between spring and summer.  Sigyn calls this “spiraea-dangling season.”

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And if you can’t find spiraea, fringe-tree will do.

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I cannot decide which is more photogenic, this pale-flowered sweet shrub…

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… or my beloved Sigyn.

Sigyn is wishing that peonies would grow back in Texas.

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Sorry, beloved, there are some things even my magic cannot achieve.

We might be able to do something about roses, though.  This is an inspiring collection.

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Well, how rude!  Some group of wealthy mortals has rented out a good portion of this garden for a private party!  The temporary “no entry” signs are almost as annoying as their loud rap “music.”  For depriving my sweetie of the opportunity to enjoy the entirety of this place, I think they will now find that the wedding cake is actually frosted styrofoam and the punch has salt instead of sugar

(later)  After much walking and more time spent on the subway (which is not actually subterranean this far from city center) and some more walking, we have now reached one of the other places the human female has read about.

The International Night Market springs up each Saturday evening like a toadstool after rain.

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No one gets in ahead of official opening time when this gorgon is on guard duty!

At last it is time to wander in.  Various morsels and concoctions are filling the air with delicious aromas.  We could, if we chose, dine on octopus balls or shark sandwiches.

Sigyn has elected to try this arepa instead, apparently because she thinks the word is fun to say.  “Arepa.”  “Arrepa.”  “Arrrrepa!”   Good for r-rolling practice, if nothing else.

Sigyn, what even is this?!  poke, poke, poke.  I don’t trust it. 

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(nibble.)  Ah.  It is a corn griddle cake of some sort, topped with a crumbly, tangy cheese.  Not bad, but not very satisfying if one has a craving for meat.  I think I saw a grilled steak booth in the last row…  I shall return.

We have now looked at all the food booths and browsed in the wares that are for sale.  We are hot, tired, and ready for a cool shower.  Sigyn, let us teleport back to the inn and leave the human female to slog her way back to the train station, endure a lengthy cross-town ride, and then slog from the train station back to the room.

Then, when she does some of the accumulated laundry in the inn’s washroom, I’ll see to it that the dryer stops after five minutes and eats up aaaall her quarters…

>|: [

Loki Takes New York, Day 2: In Which I Am Grudgingly Impressed

This is our first full day in the Big Pear  (Banana?  Some fruit or other.  I can’t be bothered to keep track of botany. That’s the human female’s thing.)

Our first order of business is an early lunch (we are getting a bit of late start today.)  One block over and two blocks down, the humans have located an eatery named “Tabouleh.”  That sounds uncomfortably close to “taboo.”  Perhaps some of the items on the menu are forbidden to certain people?  Illicit foodstuffs.  Sounds intriguing.

Sounds risky.

The human female has ordered something called “chicken shwarma.”  Shwarma… I seem to recall sitting chained to a lightpost a few blocks over from here, with nothing but bread and water while my stupid brother and his friends ate “shwarma.”

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The human female says it is delicious.  I don’t trust it.

The human male has chosen today’s activity.  On the west side of this island is a mostly-floating museum.  One part of it consists of a small, very cramped submersible ship, intriguingly named “The Growler,” which we have just toured.

I had not realized before today just how un-fond I am of narrow, metal, green-painted surroundings.

Sigyn thought it was “cozy.”

A second part of the museum consists of a broad plaza which houses this sleek and pointy aircraft.

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They tell me it could fly several times the speed of sound.  I suppose if one cannot teleport that might come in handy.  When I come to rule this realm, I shall have a fleet of such airships, because I refuse to waste good magic on minions and whatnot.

A building at the end of the plaza houses an aircraft which the human male says was the prototype for a fleet which used to routinely fly to space and back.  That sounds (as they say) “hinky” to me.  The whole galaxy knows that Midgardians have scarce made it off this rock.

The remainder of the collection is actually housed on board an enormous ship the size of a small town.  All sorts of flying vessels line the deck.

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I like this one.  It looks wickedly efficient.  The skull-and-crossbones flag is a nice touch, though if I…appropriate this craft I will need to replace it with something a little more “Loki.”

No! Wait.  This one!

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Sleek, black, and stealthy as my heart.   Come to Loki, you sweet thing.

Inside the ship/museum, there are many other exhibits, including a helicopter cockpit in which one can sit.

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Somehow, it does not seem to have been designed for someone of my kingly stature.

(later)  It is now after nightfall.  We appear to be strolling aimlessly about.  The human female calls it “getting a feel for the neighborhood.”

I call it “getting lost.”

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I gather that it is possible to ascend to the top of this imposing edifice–for a price. The humans intend to do just that, so that they can have a view of this whole metropolis at once.  Tickets are pricey and difficult to obtain.  I will have to see what I can do…

…to thwart them.

>|: [

Play With the Food/Eat the Toys—What’s the Diff?

The human female’s tall, somewhat spooky nephew…

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…who, from this getup, looks like he might be employed in the nearest local steampunk abattoir, actually has a job in a cute little sweet shop.  In the spirit of familial playfulness, and considering certain important people’s color preferences, he has brought home a selection of red and green delectables.

These remind me of something, but for the life of me, I can’t think what…

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I have constructed for myself a regal throne.

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It’s a bit knobbly to sit on, but it has the advantage of being nommable if you get a bit peckish while you’re reigning.

Sigyn, on the other hand, likes animals so much that she’s made herself a zebra.

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Or maybe it’s a llama.  Or a horsey.  Or, since it is Yule-colored, I guess  even “reindeer” is not out of the question.

This candy’s neither red nor green.  It’s a suspicious shade of brown.

chocolaterocks

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Great Frigga’s corset, Sigyn!   Don’t lick it!  You don’t know what it is or where it’s been!

You managed to eat your way through to the middle already?!  That was fast.

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Sigyn says it tastes just like banana bread inside.  Interesting.

Ah. Gummi bears.   Everyone likes gummi bears.

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Your little bears are very cute, my dear, but look at this one!

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Rawr!!!  Now that’s a bear!

Sweet glittering Bifrost!  This one’s even BIGGER!  

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I just hope we can outrun it if it decides to be fierce!

Luckily, it appears to be a gentle giant.

Sigyn, where did you get the itsy-bitsy bears?  Now you can tell the Story of Four Bears–Papa Bear, Mama Bear (who appears to be having a bit of a nap), Wee Tiny Baby Bear, and Baby Bear’s Even Tinier Sister.

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Now one fine day, the morning breakfast was too hot.  “This porridge is too hot,” said Papa Bear.  “This porridge is too hot,” said Mama Bear.  “This porridge is too hot,” said Baby Bear.  “Ah babababa goo!” said Tiniest Bear, who couldn’t talk yet.

So all four bears went for a walk in the forest while the porridge cooled.  They had just turned for home, when suddenly…

…a big Giant came down and made Mrs. Bear into a widow!

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Wow, that went to a dark place in a hurry…

>|: [

I Require Sustenance!

All of this museuming and fabric-fondling (not to mention Sigyn-rescuing) has given me an appetite.  I demand to be fed!

Well, that worked better than I hoped.  We are going out to dinner!  The human female’s sister insists that that was always the plan. Suuuure it was.

We are now seated in a place called Haji’s.  It is a smallish place, part store, part cafe. The menu seems to feature cuisine from some other part of the planet.

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Falafil.  Shawerma.  Tabooooli.  I have no real idea what these are.  Some of the words are just fun to say.

Mmm.  It certainly smells good.  What do you think, Sigyn?  Chicken grilled on a skewer and some salady bits?

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The human female’s mother has ordered a mixed plate of nibbly things–stuffed grape leaves, some of the falafil balls, some beige stuff, and some green stuff.

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(poke, poke, poke)  I don’t trust it.

The food has all come with a shaker of spice to sprinkle over the top.

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Sigyn dearly wants to climb inside to have a taste and no doubt need rescuing, but in this case, the screw top is a powerful barrier.  No rescuing needed!  We can enjoy our feast in peace.

>|: 9

Flowers, Fords, and Flights, Part III: The … Other Ford

Sorry about the interruption yesterday.  I just couldn’t let the fecklessness of the students pass by, and it made such a good wordless post.  We are actually still at the airfield.

Sigyn, do you hear that?  What is that dreadful racket?

Oh.  It is the long-awaited aircraft, FInally.

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That?  That thing….flies?

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The human male says it is a “Ford Tri-motor” and that it was made by the same people who made the old car.  It truly does not look as if it should be able to fly.

The people in the garish vests have positioned a crate-like object so that the crew may enter and exit.  Let us sit up here and stay out of their way.

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Very well, they are finished.  Odin’s eyepatch!  Up close, it is even more of a wonder that this craft is air-worthy.  It is made of corrugated metal.  Like a tool shed with wings.

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And they will let people ride in it?  And people will PAY them to do so?  Thank you, but no.  I don’t trust it.

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I mean, the human male says that the whole reason it has three motors is so that it can keep flying should one or two of them FAIL.  And did you feel the way the wing wobbled as we climbed up?

Also note the cables running the length of the outside of the plane.  The controls inside actually yank on them to move the tail rudder and other aeronatical bits and pieces.  What if one of those cables should… I don’t know… Just happen to snap?

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I must admit, however, that the engine has a strange, appealing symmetry.  It looks very powerful.

Also as if it might fall off.

Well, would you look at that!  It is older than the human female!  (I thought she predated powered flight.)

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It is even older than the human female’s mother.  And it appears to have had some real adventures.

I have been in better movies, though.

Sigyn wants to peer inside.  I have no objection.

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That is…narrow.  And low.  Watch your pretty head, my love!

The controls look simple enough.  (No more complex than a car, certainly!)

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I bet I could fly this..

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What do you think, Sigyn?

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You work the pedals and I’ll steer!

>|: [

Bored, Part II: The Desk of Doom and Sparklies

Since I am still bored, Sigyn and I are still poking about (carefully!) on the human female’s desk.  There’s no telling what—or who—we’ll encounter.

Sleipnir’s fetlocks!  What is this creature?!  It’s all…spikey!  Be very careful, Sigyn!  It looks friendly, with that enormous grin and come-hug-me posture, but it has beady little eyes…  I don’t trust it.

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Wait!  Um.. Sigyn?!  Ack.  Too late.  She is far too trusting and will hug anything.   If you so much as think of poking my sweetie, you bespined whatsis, I will blast you into next week.

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Well, that turned out better than I thought it might.  Sigyn remains unperforated. Come, my love, let us leave your new “friend” and see what else is here.

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Sigyn is delighted!  She loves tiny boxes.  I think the red one held labels for microscope slides.  The flowery one appears to have been folded out of paper.  Go ahead and open it, dearest.  I don’t think the human female will mind,  And if she does, tough luck.  If she’s not here to defend her clutter, she doesn’t deserve to have it.

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Spangles!  The human female collects them when she finds them lying about.  This must be one of her stashes.  Looks like some stars and a couple of balloons.  You’ve hit the twinkly jackpot, my petal.

<Grrrr… Squeal!>

What on—?  BAD hyena!  NO BISCUIT!   No, Sigyn, don’t look!!!

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Disaster on the desk.

>|: [

They’re Celebrating…Something, Part I: I Don’t Trust Any of This Stuff

The humans are celebrating…something.  They didn’t start out to do it.  No, they just decided that dragging Sigyn and me along and meeting up with the blue-haired goddaughter at one of the local grocery markets to pick out a variety of “fun things to eat” sounded like a good idea.   Then when they got there, they discovered that some of the local populace are celebrating the moon, because it’s August.  Or maybe October.  Except it isn’t.  It’s September.

I do not know what its going on. When I take over, I am going to straighten this whole calendar mess right the heck out.

This is a very… unusual store.  Even my Allspeak isn’t up to translating all the labels.  Why can’t everyone use runes like civilized peoples do?

Sigyn, there are some truly bizarre items on offer here.  Do you want to try the fish meat sausage with cheese?  

Me, neither.   I’m just ready to go home—and come back another day with a camera, because I KNOW no one will believe me about the fish meat sausages.

(later)

Safely home!  Let’s see what the humans did buy.  There is quite an assortment of packages.

Ah. Stuffed bao.  We have had these before and liked them!

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They won’t be the same as ones brought out by a smiling waitress in a little steamer tray, but they will probably taste good.

The package says these are Lumpy…

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Well, there are some crispy-looking little blisters on them as a result of delicious frying, but I wouldn’t call them lumpy.  Humans are weird.

Shoe-mai?  I hope they are not made of real shoes!

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I’m  sensing a theme here.  These are all stuffed things.

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The humans are fetching down the bamboo steamer, oiling up a frying pan, and heating up the oven.  Twenty minutes or so from now, we should be feasting in style!

And look!  There will be more stuffed things for dessert!

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