"This is a neighborhood that I've haven't been to yet", I semi-yell at my friend. She is ahead of me a good yard, so it's all I can do but scream to have myself be heard. Her pace is impressive considering the height of her heels.
"Grrrtt", she replies, "yew gong to wuv tis plate."
I assume that she said, "Great, you're going to love this place". She doesn't have the courtesy to turn her head to look at me while we walk and talk. It's from this point that I knew I wouldn't like this person.
This woman is not much of a friend, to be honest. She is more like someone I had to meet at one time or another in my life. Before I get into who she is, let me give you some background. I love traveling and the thing I love most about traveling is eating the food there. I'm not such a traditionalist, so I'm just as happy to eat sushi in Japan as much as I am happy to eat delicious paella in Japan. Good food is just good food to me. It doesn't matter if it's historic roots are from the the land or not. Plus, I'm not a food critic so my taste buds are not that deciphering. What I'm trying to say is that the important thing, the only thing, is that it tastes good to me. I could care less if a Food Network Star liked it or not.
The traveling part is important. It is what completes the environment and in turn completing the dish. When I was in Portugal traveling with a friend, one of the most delicious things I ate was chinese style, spicy stir fried tofu over rice. It was an intoxicating mix of red peppers, white tofu, and yellow oil. The white steam, defying gravity, were floating up in rhythmic waves of unbroken beauty. An exotic dance to arouse my taste buds. But to be fair, I'm sure I've had a better version of this dish else where. What made this dish amazing was the added ingredients of myself being abroad, drinking gallons of wine with a good friend before hand, and the minimalist set up of the restaurant. It was just a short hallway with a man with a wok. Sounds more romantic than it was, but I hope you get the point. It was the aspect of being abroad that gave this dish life. I wouldn't walk into a restaurant like this, on a whim, in my hometown.
So I'm getting flustered now. I'm hungry and I'm chasing after this person that I just met who told me she knew of a great dumpling restaurant. It wasn't more than an hour ago that I was at a cafe drinking my usual black coffee with a splash of milk (just enough to make it go from dark endlessness to welcoming chocolate) and reading the news paper. It was my second time in this city but I don't know much about the food scene here. Thus the coffee and dining section of the local paper setup. I must of looked hungry, sad, and lost because this girl came from nowhere and asked if I was looking for something to eat. I gave her a summarized version of my love to eat while traveling and she ate it all up. Literally. It was like my words were coming out as bubbles and she was devouring them, processing them and showing her understanding in head nods. She told me she knew of a "real, fantastic" restaurant and that is what brought me to my present situation.
I decided to catch up with her and it wasn't long before we were shoulder to shoulder. I looked into her light brown, slow moving eyes and asked what was so special about this restaurant. How useless.
"Oh, this place is great. Real, fantastic stuff. Any foodie would love it." She pronounced every word as if the crispness of the word will make them more creditable.
I was beginning to wonder if she even knew where this place was, but I was hungry and decided against worrying about such things.
"So how many times have you been there?", I asked.
"Oh just once or twice."
"Are there many good restaurants around this area, I don't know this city very well."
"I don't know. I don't go out to eat much."
What the hell? Is she toying with me? It's as if she has looked into my soul and found every little thing that would irritate me and decided to push pins into them. How could someone tell you something is great without experiencing other things to compare them with? How could you "love" something after only a handful of encounters? She started a reaction inside my mind that I have no control over. Different chemicals were combining, making a foul soup of irritation and disapproval. I stopped walking.
She must have noticed because she stopped as well. Using one of her heels and raising the other foot just high enough to caress her calf, she spun a perfect 180 degrees. She's looking at me with a smile that pierced bones and shook the marrow inside.
"What's wrong?", she asked. "Someone like you should be able to walk along forever."
"I think you're bullshit", I said calmly, pronouncing ever syllable like she did to me earlier.
"Why such a bad mood? Did I do or say something that hurt your feelings? Is this city's life too much for you?"
'This bitch.', I breath to myself. "You asked if I wanted to go eat, not if I wanted psychotherapy."
"Well, it's just that you look so stressed and all we've done was walk. What's the problem here?", she says calmly.
"The problem is you! Jesus, fuck. You're the problem. You don't know anything about this city but you declare to love this and that, but YOU DON'T. I bet you don't go out because you don't have friends and you're not capable of normal interactions! You spend everyday of your life fooling yourself that your something else. Something worthy. But I'll tell you right now that you're not. You're life is sad and artificial. You're pitiful.
I didn't realize as we were walking, but there were a lot of people lining the narrow streets and my loud ranting has seemed to have drawn all their attention. The woman noticed this as well. I could tell because her face was loosing color and I could see that her makeup was lifting from her skin as sweat began to form a thin, glossy film across her face.
She said, "You do this every time. I just wanted to spend time together. To let you experience my life."
"What the hell are you talking about?", I practically scream. Of the 3.2 million people in this city, I had to come across this one. I had to meet this one woman who could turn today from average to miserable. Ridiculous.
The people around us are now noticeable gawking at our exchange. My words must have shaken the woman because she has noticeable gone pale. I watch as she reaches into her purse and shuffles around to find somethings.
"Great, now what?" Is she going to try to call someone? Did she finally realize that she's lost ? Christ, I could have told her that twelve minutes ago.
"I didn't want to do this.", she says, "I really didn't."
"Go ahead you crazy bitch. I'm leaving anyway. It was my fault to follow you anyway."
"No, it was mine.", she says. At that moment she places three pills into her mouth and swallows hard.
I start to feel strange. It is as if all the blood in my body has disappeared and was replaced by white cotton balls. And now, I'm starting to fall apart. Each cotton ball is losing touch with the ones surrounding it and being blown away. Forgotten. I try to concentrate on the woman. She's calm now, walking away. I lose sight of her, but I can hear the clicking of her heels. My ears finally go numb. I think about the dumplings and wonder if they were even real. That was my last thought. I vanish from time, from place, and from her mind.
