
Buddha once said that the purpose of life is to end suffering, and that humans suffer because we continually strive after things that do not give lasting happiness. Well I say the purpose of life is to find really bomb restaurants that are two blocks away from my house that serve a fantasy-inducing bowl of pho for less than 32 kwai.
The timing couldn't have been better: I was going through what my brother coined a dai-jeh pseudo-bipoplar mood swing today, and was in serious need of a dose of uninterrupted comfort. Staring up at Temple Saigon on Huaihai and Huashan, I calculated that I've taken far more treacherous risks than eating at uncharted establishments. So, I sat down in the unusually open and comfortable dining hall and quickly ordered the rare beef pho soup, secretly crossing my fingers and hoping for the best. When my food appeared twenty minutes later with lime and Rooster Hot Sauce following close behind, I knew it was ON. A tongue-burning sip of the soup confirmed my suspicions: here lies my little private portal to bliss.
There's no magic formula for days like these, where you feel like last man on earth and your sixth sense tells you eternity is patiently waiting for you. Perhaps the gods heard me crying, for it was with this bowl of noodles that I came to terms with today's mundane existence. (key dramatic cinematic music) It almost even atones for the Nation of Idiots I've been dealt recently (yours truly being the most notorious of them). By the time I cleaned out the contents of the dish I was already mapping out the coursework for my next visit. A little voice started to remind me of the day's divine bleakness but my happy tastebuds quickly bitch-slapped them back into submission. As for Buddha's warning of ephemeral happiness? The restaurant is open seven days a week.