Comforting discomfort

In Honolulu, posted in a corner of a restaurant, in a corner of Chinatown. I sit facing the the wall ackwardly stuffed between two tables, whose occupants are overflowing into my breathing room. The salty aroma drifting over from their tables. The roof is a mosaic of pannels-- arbitrary switching from red and gold dragons and dull grey stucco. A menu board nailed on the upper wall for all to see. The walls are decorated with faded, grease-ridden pictures of the dishes, on top of crackling, faded red paint. Ducks and pigs head hang down around the older chef who huddles over his chopping board. His blurred form moving hurriedly behind a glass wall-- made semi-opaque from the splatter of his work area. I've seen these places before; you've seen these places before. Its always seems a little worrisome and questionable eating there, but appearances aren't everything, so of course the the place is packed. Normally in a place like this, I would order dishes I'm familiar with, just eating there looks risky enough. But then again...

One line up on the wall menu catches my eye. Quickly my eyes chase around the walls, no picture of it. The waitress walks up; hesitating, I order, "Pig Gizzards in Rice Soup. " The waitress waivers a second and then repeats my order in an amused tone. She brings me tea. You know the one. That same jasmine tea served in most generic Chinese restaurants, with its light body and softly sweet floral flavor. Minutes go by. I sit and sip; anticipating the unknown, as I grasp on to the familiar with my hands. Being alone on these lonely islands means there is no one here to see me grimace if its too repulsive, or even check if I eat everything in my bowl. The large plastic bowl gets plopped down on my table. The steam sends the sweet, salty aroma into the air. The "liquid" has a gel-like consistency and clear-frosty color-- resembling a rice sauce more than a rice soup. At least the colors are visually pleasing: a mix of the white broth, deep burgundy of the organ meat, and speckled with green onions. I search the soup, picking out the gizzard goodies. Surprisingly the most unappetizing part is that damned rice glue that coats everything like too much mayo on a sandwich. The tea fortunately washes cuts through the dense soup coating my mouth. Grateful for the little bit of familiarity in this foreign meal. Having traveled alone a few times, I always find it amazing how comforting common customs can be while becoming accustomed to new occurrences. And in the end... I ate a decent amount of the pork but the sweet almost fish-like flavor of the rice syrup proved too unappetizing, and I was unable to get enough of it off the pork parts to eat any more of them. It was definitely different but next time I'd prefer just the pork gizzards, and save the soup.