|This picture was actually taken by my girl to draw attention to the place known as "ONG ONG"|
It did not look promising at all. Disregarding the many non 'bubble tea' related icons such as an obvious 'chuppa chup' hand bag and clothing in the background, they had also included a nonexistant place as a place of origin for 'bubble tea'. "ONG ONG" certainly does not ring a bell. Macau, yes, Taipei, yes. Ong Ong? After further contemplation I had realised this was meant to read "HONG KONG". Are you actually trying to destroy my place of birth and origin, my culture and my heritage?
After much expressed anger towards each other, my friend and I finally entered the shop to place our order.
Know the feeling when you are overwhelmed by your complete ignorance to the menu of a store you've never been into? Because the owners restaurants can't just simply write "Steak with seasonal beans with gravy"? They have to dress it up in fancy foreign languages until you have trouble identifying the actual dish. My attempted example is as of follows: "Thick juicy slice of calf leg sizzled baked fried then grilled with a hint of carbonet sauvingon, olive oil peanut oil and a dash of vegetable oil, cooked til al dante accompanied with seasonal salad, mashed potatoes and topped with chef's special gravy prepared with the finest ingredients". Can you even cook meet to be al dante? Is that not a term used to describe pasta? I'll save that for another post.
Back to the story, having been awestruck for several minutes, we finally decided to place our order: a 'sumo' and milk tea with 'love fruit'. We decided to pick them out of our curiosity, but we both secretly know it's an attempt to mix in well with pop culture. Bad choice. Sumo turned out to be green tea flavoured milk tea (so that's like double tea?) with red bean in it; love fruit turned out to be multi-coloured jelly. Ha. Pop culture.
Feeling rather dissatisfied, we went back into the car and began our trip home. At about half way (due to multiple distractions such as driving in circles as a result of our arguments about directions), my friend (who was driving at the time) had finished her milk tea but still had her 'love fruit' stuck at the bottom.
Friend: I can't get my jelly out.
Me: Try move the straw over it.
At this point I laughed at my friend, and said that her sad days are of such simple worries; then proceeded to raised awareness to problems in the third world countries like a good mature university student. But secretly I agree with her: The day your love fruit fails to love you is a very very sad day indeed.
Fellow readers, do you submit to pop culture? How sad are your very sad days?