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😍 5/5 - It was the kind of mid-day that felt like the world was
By 👻 @Willy X., 06/21/2018 3:00 am
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It was the kind of mid-day that felt like the world was running at low-volume. The sun had risen at 6am and heated the asphalt to a hazy warmth. Lazy tourists, having reached where they had wanted to come, now milled about the streets without a strong sense of where to go next.I quietly slipped into duck and rice where a muted TV played the world-cup in the background. Portugal v. Morocco. The ball was in Portugal's possession, dribbled and passed downfield.What should we get, I pondered? There was a Chinese person from China. Two from Canada. Another, myself, from the USA. All having coalesced in London, we now found ourselves in this Chinese restaurant, which on the outsides were decorated in a mainly western fashion: red-bricks and tin-barrels. Gin instead of Baijiu was on the alcohol menu.On screen, a Moroccan defender challenged the attack. The Portuguese player expertly evaded the slide.Do we want Dim Sum? Cantonese Duck? Crispy Aromatic Duck? Some committed to foods and then pulled out, others had come before and knew what they already wanted: jasmine ribs, duck fried rice.Now downfield, a shot was deflected by Morocco's goalkeeper, the ball flew back for a corner kick.I wondered briefly what kind of food I really wanted - the choice becoming as much a question of my identity as one of the thousands of lunches I've had before. I mean this was a Chinese establishment, right? So maybe I should go with that? But how Chinese could it be given that it was in the heart of London? I bet it could only survive in its location, outside of Chinatown, because of its decor - making white diners feel safe and comfortable in familiar territory. The ribs, I heard, were meant to taste like a Texas BBQ with a dash of jasmine flavor. Which of those were meant to taste like home for me, I wasn't sure.The anticipation built up in the soccer stadium. Players organized themselves in optimal setting to go towards the goal.After careful deliberation, I ventured into a dish that I had never heard of before: the "sha-cha glass noodle claypot" with my comfort zone of egg fried rice on the side. One to keep me grounded with a common narrative thread to the past, the other gave me the possibility to grow into something new.The corner kick flew. Ronaldo appeared. The ball hurtling deep into the net. Portugal went wild. And for a brief moment, the energy of the crowd's cheer passed out of the TV and into my body. And as fast as it came, faded back into the still-muted screen that cast the same scene to millions of people around the world.
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