Or, "Chinese Restaurant," in English. That was what the sign said in bright green neon. I went there with the Asian contingent of my class who missed good ol' Asian cooking (from the States). There was Laotian Melissa, Cantonese Chinese Tammy, Korean Jean, half Korean and half Chinese Austin, and yours truly, Mandarin Chinese Karen. The service was terrible and it seemed like the former Communists running the place were disgusted by our Asian American presence. We had to communicate in Italian because she didn't seem to understand my Taiwanese-influenced Mandarin nor I her pedestrian Chinese village accent. The food was heavily laden with MSG and this special salt combination Chinese people use. It was good; unlike any Chinese food I had ever tasted and yet unmistakably Chinese. Overall, I was disappointed, but it was nice to have rice and chopped up vegetables and meat again.
We had gelato afterward at quite possibly the very worst place because it was right in tourist central, and my torta di riso e banana combination cost €10.50.
It was a nice night out, so much more laid back and actually refreshing from the frenetic, high-energy, chaotic partying that dominated the last days. It was the classier, subdued fun I said I was looking for. Afterward we hung around the Piazza and took pictures - it does not even begin to get dark around here until 9:00 PM - and then loitered around the fountain to see what would become of a beefy but unattractive Italian man in a muscle tee holding two red roses and standing in front of the Palazzo Vecchio as if he were waiting for a rendezvous with his lover. Melissa suggested it was an internet lover; Tammy suggested that he was there so long because the internet lover took one look and left. We did wait for more than 45 minutes, on the pretext of exploring the Piazza, just to see the drama unfold. He paced for quite a while and looked very uneasy, and finally we all just gave up.
These girls, and Austin, and I talked at length during dinner about our different Asian American experiences. Then food, and hair, but not in the same conversation.
As expected, in class today, everybody acted as if nothing happened last night. No, that was not your ass I was groping. No, you must be mistaken; somebody else gave you that lap dance. What was your name again?
posted by Lucy Sloan @ 12:47 PM
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