Chinatown London

Here I am around London to tell a new fantastic adventure. Today Chinatown.

So, let’s start from the fact that the last three / four days have been a little bit heavy (the exams weren’t going well and they increased my cortisone). In short, I was gripped by the sadness, because unfortunately the treatment is a long journey, and instead I am more one from everything and immediately … I felt lost, deaf (cortisone also bothers the implant and therefore I feel a little worse than usual). Okay, after five minutes of venting and crying.

Then I put on my green rings (the command ring and the pinky ring and I will make an article about my rings) … To defeat fear, not to think and to move on other significant choices).

And so I went out and wandered and ended up in Chinatown.

Now I let myself be carried away by the people, by the streets, by the flavors. One thing I like to do a lot when I’m in the city (one of the best I think will remain the one in the medina of Marrakesh … and they will need lots of items).

Imagine the streets where there is a smell of Chinese cuisine, where the restaurants are packed with people at all times. Where you see ravioli in every corner and try to figure out which is the best restaurant … in short, the one where the natives go and the least touristy possible.

And here obviously my sordamladestra adventure could not fail to arrive.

I find a kind of rotisserie, in a corner, a little secluded from the main streets. I get in line, ready to foretaste food “to go”, undecided between the shrimp ravioli or the rice dumplings …. and already my diet is not calculated. London’s 40 degrees (hellish heat yesterday and today) in the sun in a row remind me that maybe I should look for a place in the shade. I think this row will move sooner or later … nothing. Stop motionless.

I am the only one on the street with the FFP3 mask, I start to sweat. Then I think about where to eat this food, it’s not that I can take it home.

The line does not move … A thousand thoughts invade my head, the heat, the diet, I cannot eat a sidewalk …

Nothing … in the end I leave. I turn my heels and go back home sadly, thinking that the smells, the flavors, the authentic food (perhaps more touristy than authentic) are beautiful, but I also want to be comfortable and quiet.

In short, the motto “more English less Italian” is true, but there is a limit to everything.

So I highly recommend a nice ride in Chinatown, maybe not in this heat.

I enjoyed it all the same though. Now I have to find where to eat.