It was almost midnight in Hong Kong, many years ago now. My dad and I had flown in about an hour ago, an eighteen hour flight, and had just gotten to the hotel. We're wide awake and that was perfect - Hong Kong was wide awake, too. We'd seen the city lights - neon animated signs much more colorful than anything on this continent other than Christmas - from the taxi, while breathing in the slight new-car smell of taxis in China.
We left the hotel with the stone lions and fake palm trees and sign "酒店" and crossed the street to a restaurant specializing in 粥. (Gruel? Porridge? It sounds so unappetizing in English.) That was my first time having duck tongue, too. It was addictingly spicy and delicious, and we were starving after the flight. Midnight lunch. I didn't deal with spice very well back then, and being a small restaurant in China, they don't have cold water, so that left beer. I didn't like beer then (still don't, but 青岛啤酒 (Tsingdao Beer) is better than any American beer I've tried, and there's no drinking age in China) so I sipped beer between bites.
Memories of travels with my dad are a safe place to escape to when I don't want to think about the upcoming Biology lab exam.
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