To the city with everything except

Snippet of conversation overheard at the beautiful, contemplative Japanese Tea Garden in Seattle yesterday:
"Well, they (the Japanese carp) ain't gonna any food from me.  [Chuckles]."




Granted we are not at Oxford* or at Les Deux Magots Saint Germain-des-Pres, but still...

It would be nice if the art of conversation came into vogue in this city.   

What passes for conversation--and in the strict sense of the word, of course, it is--in cafes, restaurants, museums, shops, and other public spaces is usually some form of shouting, snorting, shrieking, non-stop yammering, cheery maxims, banalities, belly-aching, self-important, unsolicited declarations and disclosures of private matters, and gossip--all pitched at the highest frequencies and directed at anyone unfortunate enough to be within 100 feet of the speaker.

Impressed we are...at how things in this city and every five minutes
can be actually be awesome.

(Americans don't have a tendency to exaggerate/boast, do they?).

Such conversations make spending time in these public spaces particularly irritating, if not downright painful.

Sometimes I wonder if the reason people wear earbuds, earphones, and all manner of audio paraphernalia is simply to distract themselves from being continually obligated to listen to others yakking and yammering.

So we shout into our cellphones because we can't hear ourselves speak because of the din around us.  And so others do likewise.

I am of the view that the cellphone was designed as a tool of communication, and not primarily as a tool of torture.   Many, if not most Seattleites would presumably disagree with me.

* Last year, a student found the social scene at [my alma mater]...to be lacking—both in variety and in meaningful connections with new people. “I was surprised when I got here and the standard was, ‘Hey, what’s up?’” she says. “That doesn’t really lead to any conversation.” 

Then, while studying abroad at...Oxford, she took part in regular formal dinners with professors and fellow students. Goddard enjoyed these dinners so much that she decided to bring the concept back to [the college].