I drove out to Buena Park for a dinner date with Bosun and Richard. We I had 짜장면. It wasn’t anything special but I’m not disappointed because I’ve lived in this country long enough to know that I can’t expect authentic old coutry goodness here. Despite all my subpar 짜장면 encounters on this side of the Pacific, it still remains in its position as my favorite food. I’ll have to go back to Korea one day before I forget what it’s supposed to taste like.
Afterwards, we went to a nearby Korean supermarket because Bosun had to buy pork and tofu. We walked by a Korean cafe and noticed that there was a gang of bikers sitting outside drinking coffee. I also noticed that there was a photograph of the same gang of bikers on the store window, which led me to believe that these people were frequent customers. I only bring this up because I saw another biker gang outside the Bobaloca around where I live. What a crazy world we live in. Personally, I think it’s great but it certainly isn’t something you see everyday. That alone merits my attention.
At the Korean supermarket, Bosun bought Men’s Pocky. Apparently, Women’s Pocky wasn’t good enough for her. So with that thought, I’ll close this entry with a beautiful poem I read on the Men’s Pocky box.