Vigorous Project

I continue to love the t-shirting here.  Nailing it.


School was boring.  Did observations of classes in another language for eight hours, but mostly just tried not to fall asleep.  I am frankly happy to be almost done with this leg of the trip.

Now I’m listening to reprehensible Japanese pop in a dirty little noodle stand that I chose using the worst possible criteria for choosing an eatery: proximity to my face.  It’s probably going to give me dengue fever, and I’m probably not going to do this sort of thing in southeast Asia.  It already seems like a terrible idea.

I ordered via machine vended ticket; is that weird?  That’s weird.  I want to go back and look for a picture of something in the whiskey family, but alas, I have some work to do for Portland Public Schools tonight.  Procrastination rears its sober head.

The guy who looks like a poster child for a post-teen/still-angsted biker gang gives me rice.  No thank you ever again on the rice.  At least put some dead fish on it or something!

Oh my god, I take it all back- these noodles are delicious.  I don’t even care about the hygiene questions I was just formulating; a lot can be forgiven when you factor in fluorescent lighting and fat, gooey ramen.  Cup-o-Noodles can suck it.  

I think I can already feel the MSG pouring out of my pores, but it’s worth it.  Teaches me not to judge a cook by its cover…

A lesson I’ve quite enjoyed learning this meal.


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