When travelling, I always check out hardware stores, bookstores, culinary stores, and grocery stores. I was in a bookstore in Vientiane, Laos a few years ago which had a good selection of books in English. I was perusing one and asked the store manager, a drop-dead gorgeous Lao woman in her mid-forties if she'd read it. She looked at me and said "I can't read".
By Bonnie Tsui
July 19, 2024 - NY Times
For some travelers, the big draw in a destination is not a hot new restaurant or high-end hotel. It’s the grocery store, swimming pool or kitchenware shop, where they can dip into the stream of local life.
You could say that I have a public pool habit when I travel. From Reykjavík and Sydney to Phoenix and Palm Springs, Calif., it’s how I eavesdrop on and observe everyday life, wherever I am. Early one morning last summer in Tokyo, I entered the lobby of a sports complex in the Shimokitazawa neighborhood, joined the orderly queue of seniors, and enthusiastically pantomimed my way to a day pass.
After my swim, I followed the illustrated signs and rinsed off before wandering over to the hot tub. A tiny Japanese woman with a halo of white hair gave me a grin as I got in. “I like your swimming!” she said, in English. From our perch, we chatted animatedly as the 8 a.m. aqua aerobics class kicked and splashed into high gear. It was a highlight of my time in Japan.
I was reminded of this the other day while getting a haircut from my longtime hairdresser in Berkeley, Calif., Noel Shabazian. He mentioned a trip he was about to take to Little Rock, Ark., to visit his girlfriend’s parents, and I asked what he was planning to do.
“Oh, I’m going to the barbershop,” he said, snipping away. “Whenever I go someplace new, I like to head over to the local barbershop for a shave and a haircut. I don’t even tell them I do hair — I just like to see how they do things.” He loves getting a window into the lives of strangers: where they live, who they gossip about, what preoccupies them.
I’d always thought of my public pool visits as idiosyncratic, but Noel’s barbershop ritual made me see it as a shared way of thinking about travel, of experiencing the world. Our eyes met in the mirror, and I smiled in recognition.
Oh, the Ordinary Places You’ll Go!
Greg