?, Wednesday July 1, Veniero's cafe ....I live in hope

Every time I am in New York I come to Veniero's in the hope that Eva, a lovely Polish woman who married and was divorced by my cousin, still works here, though I wouldn't wish anyone to have been waitressing for more than 10 years. But, of course, no Eva.

I have spent the afternoon with W, which is always fun. We ate at Caliente Cab and I had a mixed plate with a vegie burrito and a bean tostada, a side of rice and refried beans. Ahh, Mexican like I remember it!

It has been strange to be here, in New York, with my mother, surrounded by New York accents. After South America, New York is all of the sudden not so exciting. Comparatively there is hardly anyone around. The familiarity of it is strange: that I know which subways to catch and where certain shops and cafes are and I don't live here, haven't been here since 2005. Despite my lack of awe for the city, wandering around the West Village is beautiful - 12th and 11th streets, especially the residential bits with their graceful brick or painted walk-ups and lines of trees and tiny corner parks: lovely.

On Friday, our last day together, MS and I browsed one of the Fundacion Librarias bookshops. MS bought two books, one called 'Happy Travels, No Smoking' ('Feliz Viaje, No Fumar'). We wandered around the ethnological museum and ate Middle Eastern food.

The government bookshops sell a series of black hardcover numbered books of Latin American classic literature and non-fiction. There are more than 200 volumes. The Puerto Ayacucho shop also sold expensive locally made art and jewelry in plastic display cases and housed a spray of book piles and boxes that a girl was sorting through.

The ethnological museum contained a collection of artefacts from several Amazonian tribes, including the Piaroa, which is the tribe Tito, our Amazon guide, is from. I saw beautiful woven baskets, hunting and fishing weapons, models of long- and round- houses, historical photographs. MS read to me about the differences amongst the tribes, such as being more nomadic or more agricultural.

I was curious to try falafel in Venezuela so I appreciated that MS remembered where the shwarma joint we passed was. The only diners in the restaurant, we chatted with the proprietor, who was surprised to learn that there is Arab food in Australia. I asked where he got his tahini from, since I had to make tahiniless humus on Margarita. He gets it from Caracas, where it is imported from Syria.

Watermelon juice goes well with falafel.

The food did have a slightly different flavour than Australian Middle-Eastern food. The dips (humus and babaganoush) had a similar unidentifiably different flavour and the falafel had a beautiful melt-in-your mouth fried-crispy crust but was not spicy and was a corianderless pure beige colour.

MS and I ate a lot (a falafel platter and mixed plate with chicken, beef and dips) and both thoroughly enjoyed it.

Getting back to S's on Saturday morning was a bit of a drama despite my happiness at arriving 'home' to her and her family. I arrived at S's apartment thanks to an expensive cab ride from the Lavandera bus station around 8.00am. I hadn't been able to call her, as the previous evening her mobile phone kept telling me there was no service and then I had no credit. I had hoped just knocking on her door would be sufficient to get someone to open up, but no luck. I left a note under the door saying I was here, the phone wasn't working, and I'd go look for a place to call her.

I walked down the 18 flights of stairs and made my way to the communications centre, which was roundly closed on a Saturday morning. I walked back to S's building, eyeing the fresh-white-cheese seller at the entrance to the complex. In the lobby I looked for a powerpoint to charge the phone and, lo and behold, I found one.

Without MS I am distracted and mentally restless. I emailed him on Monday but have not heard back. I hate this, this inevitable waiting and guessing despite the fact that he doesn't owe me an immediate reply, especially when he doesn't have internet access at home. Yet I want him to have stopped by the internet place after work on Tuesday in order to be in touch with me. Boys just take my life out of equilibrium - I don't like it. I can't just shut off the swell of excitement I feel. I think and think about MS.