Little people mesmerised by dragonfly like waitresses and the clickety-clackety trolleys they manoeuvre, spruiking their wares. They dart here, and there, and back here again. Deft hands and quick tongues advertise intriguing morsels; delicate dumplings, bok choy and streamed pork buns. We answer yes many times and our round table quickly fills to brimming with little bamboo baskets bearing all manner of curious delights.
The babies explore chop sticks and sup green tea from tiny porcelain beakers. We snaffle up the last of the Peking duck almost vulture like as our wee people devour all before them greedily and with relish. There is much chatter, much laughter, and many effervescent questions.
A Chinese supermarket with it's rainbow wrapped offerings beckons and we potter through this other world for some time, lost in wonder. Traditional medicines, bean curd sheets, rambutans in syrup. Dried lotus leaves, pungent shrimp paste and pickled turnip. All encased in colour and adorned by elegant and graceful characters. I find myself in awe of this complex and somewhat mystical means of communicating. Such an ancient language form steeped in history with its intricate flicks and strokes. It is a thing of beauty.
Our senses are thoroughly satiated with a cornucopia of stimuli. Today we have thrown open the doors of this wild world to our babies as best we can from our suburban existence. Again our adventures have us choosing the quirky trail, the meal we can't pronounce, the sparkly, twangy parts of life that make our blood pump faster. We will show our little people this grand world albeit for now through the windows of a Corolla, not a 747. We will introduce them to its magnificent people.
With full bellies and warm hearts we head home. We will come again soon.