The Colors of Boston
Flashing and dazzling colors widen my tiny eyes. Sturdy, strong, gray and gloomy cement hovers on top with a stiff and angry fence on top. I walk on the orange, white, yellow, blue and green streaks of beautiful garden colors that make me ooze bubbly foggy, warm and repulsive saliva out of my half-open peach lips. I’m glad I’m wearing a midnight black mask to cover the drool that has just escaped from my mouth. I know that it didn’t literally come out of my mouth. But in the colorful, dazzling, beautiful, extraordinary fractions of the imaginary world that is in my and many other people’s hearts. It is coming out now. I watch the dancing movement of the black, shady, shadow of the tree that is going to change color like many others. I gaze at the black and grey ceiling to the cement when I look down I see an oversized, sharp gravel. When I look at the mural in the middle of the wall, the letters are big and bulky with a black that was as dark as a solar system empty of planets and stars. The bold, sky-blue street art writing spells L-O-V-E. The spectacular, wavy, swirly and warm-colored background is so inviting that I step closer to get a better view. I’m drawn to the amazing art as I get closer to see more intricate detail.
Next we arrive at the Hot Pot Buffet. Many people including myself are complaining of hunger, but luckily we are at the restaurant. We head north to find a new restaurant because this one is closed. Look at the compass shown here to know which way North is. We walk a short distance to find a large restaurant near the edge of the ginormous, welcoming and daring
Chinatown Gate. As soon as I step in I hear the pleasant and satisfying sound of a mini waterfall-like fountain. When I actually step in the restaurant I realize it is big and has almost no chatter. A waiter led us to a table that would fit all six and soon to be seven of us. I note to myself that there is a jade Buddha around twice the size of a regular sized ring dangling around his neck. I look around and take a seat. It surprises me how soft the thin, beige, cushions are. Uncle Anthony, Auntie Sarah and Clara marvel at the one menu that is placed on the table on the fake wood in between the two burners for soup. We order tomato broth, broccoli, lettuce, tofu and vermicelli pasta. The noodles are impressively thin. I think they were shredded onions. Clara has carrots, udon noodles, chicken broth and celery. Uncle Anthony and Auntie Sarah have a traditional spicy soup. The divider between Clara and her parent’s soup is as wavy as a stream on a breezy day. The decorative outline of the blurry, but silver bowl on the flower cut outline shimmers as if it is giving me a wink. I stare at the large silver fan as it spins like a spinning top. When the food arrives my mom and I have no idea how to do it. Each item is in a small bowl. Before my mom and I can ask, the man explains that we add any amount of our choice to cook and stir for 3-4 minutes when the soup is ready. My mom scoops the ladle into the soup and scoops up a piece of corn and slides it into my bowl, then tomato broth and vermicelli noodles. I slowly slurp down the soup, asking for seconds. After three servings, we slowly exit the store after bathroom breaks. A final flavored burp comes up my throat. This meal is the best Chinese meal I have ever had.
After lunch, we walk to the park and there are some many squirrels with such bushy tails. The garden has a large amount of greenery, colorful flowers, and weeping willows sway with the gentle breeze. I find a fresh and falling branch and swiftly twirl with it until I grow dizzy. Soon the adults tell me, Bonnie and Clara they will take us to the chocolate shop to possibly get a small treat. When we arrive I notice one size of the room has green and white striped walls with tables below it. The other walls have pink and gold striped walls, but with a front desk below it. In a small/medium refrigeration box sits tiny chocolate flavored cakes and behind it I can just manage to see a chocolate and coffee drink machine. When I look up I can see a fake mask hanging from the chandelier. The adults ask if we want a small chocolate piece or a cup of hot chocolate. Bonnie and I, followed by Clara, request hot chocolate. Almost instantaneously, when my mom gets to the front desk, she places an order for three hot chocolates. The cashier asks if we want medium temperature or hot, and my mom answers medium. After we finish our hot chocolate we go home, but the color of Boston will stay with us.
No comments:
Post a Comment