Read Part 1 HERE !
At the 4 PM mark, I unloaded my first package of baked goods and bid farewell. My next order of business was to head downtown. First on the to-do list was a Compass card from the Stadium-Chinatown service station. It was an odd request from a certain transit-abhorring prehistoric creature, but nonetheless a manageable task to attain in between social activities.
I dreaded the neighbourhood and all its foulness. Personally deemed to be "Homeless Central", it's not a far cry from the poverty-striken pits of DTLA. Brimming with sleazy, smelly souls hunched from overdose and intoxication, the only elements missing are tents.
Having endured my twenty-minute wait at the service counter, I then maneuvering swiftly to International Village's Oomomo for more cookie cutters. International Village was not far from Jackson Square's odd retail attachment, except not even Hamilton had garbage taking joyrides on coattails of the wind.
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Thankfully, there are alternate routes to remove oneself from the heinous hoodlum turf and ease back into the calming confines of Gastown.
A Torontonian-turned-Vancourite met up with me and gladly assumed the role of a tour guide. From within Herschel's West Coast flagship, one could partake in retail therapy in addition to appreciating a panoramic perspective of Canada Place and the Vancouver Cruise Ship Dock.
Suppertime crept up slowly, and we proceeded to the pre-determined location of Kokoro Tokyo Mazesoba.
Again having heard nothing but positive reviews from Miss Rushka, I had pinned this destination to the list without questions. Alas, soba after pasta was not in the original plan.
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Just after 6 PM, the restaurant filled to the three-quarter mark. The host greeted us upon entry and offered to seat us right away, until a different member of staff sauntered up to inform us that "There were no tables for two" at the moment and automatically slotted us towards the bar - the sole supposed seating option. I peered over at the empty expanse of tables, which were apparently "reserved".
"How long will it be for a table?" asked my fellow adventurer.
"Five minutes." came the reply.
We exchanged perplexed glances. "Yeah, we'll wait." He told the ruder of the two.
In under three minutes, we were called to a table near the back, just by the washroom ̶d̶o̶o̶r̶s̶ curtains. The crew operated in undeniably strange ways.
"How long will it be for a table?" asked my fellow adventurer.
"Five minutes." came the reply.
We exchanged perplexed glances. "Yeah, we'll wait." He told the ruder of the two.
In under three minutes, we were called to a table near the back, just by the washroom ̶d̶o̶o̶r̶s̶ curtains. The crew operated in undeniably strange ways.
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As I began to arrange my array of bags in the limited space provided to the best of my abilities, the veteran between us began to introduce the menu and provide recommendations. His own research had steered him in the direction of Shio Mazesoba, for despite the lack of egg, bamboo shoots and distinguishable bites of chashu filled the bowl.
I, on the other hand, had a penchant for eggs and requested the Tokyo Mazesoba with adjustments for mildness.
I, on the other hand, had a penchant for eggs and requested the Tokyo Mazesoba with adjustments for mildness.
The reasoning behind the order of Shio became clear soon after: once mixing was complete, there were few items of subsistence. Each forkful grew heavier than the last; the ingredient profiles melded together into a satiating paste that slowly, but surely, overwhelmed my appetite.
A small bowl of rice was provided towards the end of the meal, such that guests could utilize the grains to absorb the remaining flavours of the mazesoba. Vinegar, positioned in the utensil stand at every table, is a highly recommended condiment to cut grease and alleviate heaviness.
We agreed to split a Taka Ume Sake, which was probably the highlight of the meal. Served iced and laced with fruity notes of sweetness, it was the ideal pairing to the restaurant's namesake noodle dish. My preferences lie with a more subdued palette of flavours, thus Kokoro succeeded in nothing besides overwhelming my heart and stomach.
Service staff was generally friendly, though could not save me from limitations of my dying mobile device. Outlets were offered, but charging cables were sadly not.
Service staff was generally friendly, though could not save me from limitations of my dying mobile device. Outlets were offered, but charging cables were sadly not.
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Washrooms were maintained decently, though it would have been nice if the shielding curtains were removed entirely (on the bases convenience and hygiene).
Washrooms were maintained decently, though it would have been nice if the shielding curtains were removed entirely (on the bases convenience and hygiene).
A Hokkaido Crème Cone had been considered at our time of arrival, but extraordinary satiation had led me to retract my statement. Instead, we undertook a lengthy walk downtown: First north along Robson, then across Denman, and finally south along Davie through some unexpectedly hushed residential areas.
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Eventually, we made it back to civilization, where Iced Guava White Tea Lemonades were acquired in exchange for access to bathroom facilities.
The final hours of my Vancity stay were met with a failing battery, my second-last Uber ride, and a shared consensus that, while the city is smaller, neither food quality nor scenery is compromised.
The final hours of my Vancity stay were met with a failing battery, my second-last Uber ride, and a shared consensus that, while the city is smaller, neither food quality nor scenery is compromised.
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