bakurube and i are at kahika on a monday – his suggestion since he’s been going to the restaurant a lot lately with a friend ‘on business.’

‘come on, quick, decide on something,’ i tell myself as i flip through the menu. ‘there’s too much going on, too much on offer. goddammit. gotta block out everything but the one i need.’

‘what are you muttering?’ asks bakurube.

‘nothing,’ i reply.

‘can’t decide?’ he asks. ‘get a nasi goreng.’

‘why?’

‘that’s what you get when you can’t decide.’

‘fine, i’ll get one. what are YOU getting?’

‘some beef and garlic rice.’

‘ooh fancy.’

we order and once the server’s gone, i take a look around the place. there’s a fake plant backgdrop with ‘kahika’ outlined in a warm glow. to my right is the counter, there’s wood panelling behind that and timber beams above. fancy.

‘that’s not wood,’ says bakurube when i mention them. ‘and the wood panelling is plastic.’

‘wow, nothing is what it seems here,’ i say. ‘everything is fake!’

‘indeed,’ says bakurube and chuckles. wow, i’ve finally made this man laugh. and with THAT!

the meal arrives quickly, and just as well cos we are almost out of our minds by then. i give bakurube my fried egg and take a bite from the rice.

‘good god, it’s really something else!’ i tell bakurube.

‘would i tell you to get that for no reason?’ he tells me and flings a forkful of meat and rice into his mouth.

‘it’s just SUCH a treat, especially after those endless kaanivaa nasi gorengs.’

bakurube gives me a barely perceptible nod and continues to eat famishedly.

‘not that i don’t like the nasi goreng from taste me and mins deli, i mean. but this. man, this is on an entirely different culinary plane.’

‘will you just shut up and let me eat?’ snaps bakurube so i return to my food. the man is such a grouch sometimes. i have a sip of water because this dish is goddamned SPICY.

soon, our food is gone. the bill is 291 because bakurube had a coke.

‘you’re paying, right?’ he says.

‘you pay, i’ll transfer my share.’

‘transfer your share of what? your company?’ bakurube says. the man is trying to be funny.

outside, in the midday heat, we walk towards the workshop. and on the way, about two blocks towards sosan magu from the restaurant, bakurube stops and looks into a lane on our left.

‘i’ve never seen this goalhi before,’ he says, eating a piece of skin from his hand. he does that sometimes. a nervous tic.

‘wanna explore?’ i say.

‘lead the way.’