despite the rain, or maybe because of it, the allure of noodles has made me prep for a trip to hulhumale to check out that noodle bar. initially, i’d thought of going on a two man mission with abdurrahman, whom you met at the chinese restaurant. now, nadheemadhi wants in on the action but samfa opts to stay in and watch TV. so it’s us two guys and nadhee. just as well cos the the restaurant has only three items on the menu.

i decide to take the ferry (yes we still have those) and this proves a terrible decision. the ferry is totally closed off (no sea breeze to ease my seasickness) and the waves are relentless. i feel every second of that trip. it’s like being branded in the temples with a flaming iron as the boat crashes into each wave.

finally, on flat land, the horrors of the sea subside and my appetite returns. unfortunately tho, @lianshuiqing_noodles, which is near clay studio cafe, is closed between 1500-1800 hrs. right now, it’s 1630.

i take a seat on a plastic chair near the entrance when nadhee arrives with abdu.

‘didn’t you google before you made plans?’ asks nadhee.

‘i couldn’t find them.’

‘can’t research for shit can you?’ says nadheemadhi and shares the page with me on ig. we decide to go to the clay studio cafe and wait.

‘dear lord. 80 rufiyaa for an iced tea?’ i say to nadhee as we browse the menu, and abdu suggests we move to patio.

as we wait for our orders of tea and coffee, nadhee convinces samfa to come join us.

‘she just needed a nudge,’ says nadhee.

‘too easy to influence her,’ says abdu.

i don’t care for these two talking about samfa in that way or tone – only I get to talk about her like that. anyhow, nadhee drinks half her coffee and goes off to hang her laundry. abdu and i talk about this and that, and i pay the bill and off we go to take a walk around the island.

while we’re admiring the minaret of a green mosque whose beauty is spoiled by its windows, i get a call from nadhee to hurry the hell up.

the girls are already seated when we arrive. the restaurant is white-lit, giving off hotaa vibes, but clean, spacious. and it has a strong smell of cookery.

‘we’re going to have to change when we get back,’ says samfa.

‘um, can you pay me back, you two?’ i ask abdu and nadhee.

‘why?’ asks nadhee.

‘i paid our bill at patio,’ i tell her.

‘you mean you don’t have a 100 to spare?’ asks nadhee.

‘the man’s been losing work to ai,’ says samfa, embarrassing me a little. why though? why should i feel embarassed? it’s happening everywhere.

‘aw, so easily replaceable,’ says nadhee, answering my question. ‘i’m sending you some, don’t worry.’

when the server comes to the table, we order one of each. the girls practically force me to get the fried noodles while they get the soupy one.

‘can i get a glass?’ says abdu pointing to the glasses already on the table.

‘they’re in the drawer!’ laughs samfa. and it’s true, each diner has their own little drawer with napkins, cutlery, chopsticks and a glass. chinese ingenuity.

‘what are you reading?’ samfa asks nadhee.

‘nothing right now but i’ve ordered “the chinaman”,’ she replies.

‘oh, i’ve read a bit of it but i couldn’t get my hands on a copy,’ i tell her.

‘yeah, my bf bought it for me on amazon.’

‘oh man, i was into him ever since i read those excerpts back when he won the commonwealth prize,’ i say.

samfa snorts.

‘you’re like a foni iskandhar fifth grader trying to show off how long he’s known someone for,’ she says.

the others laugh. huh, how’s that even funny?

‘you can borrow it when i’m done,’ says nadheemadhi.

when she’s done, huh. i’d hate to borrow something that’s half read. but that would be most of my books.

anyhow, my fried noodles is the first to arrive.

‘it smells good, like lemongrass,’ says abdu. everyone wants a bite so i let them after my introductory taste.

‘it’s really good,’ says samfa.

‘yeah but i think it needs some condiments,’ i say. there’s soy sauce, vinegar, and chilli paste on the table. samfa puts some sauce in the noodles.

‘wow, it really brings out the flavours,’ she says. i agree. it’s already pretty spicy so i don’t try the chili paste but the vinegar and soy sauce take things up a notch.

the other noodles arrive but all prove to be a lot blander.

‘it’s more like a mild-flavoured beef broth,’ says samfa and nadhee nods. abdu’s noodles are better though, not that soupy, and the favours are bolder, especially after mixing the condiments.

‘i feel that a dish should be able to stand on its own,’ he says. ‘the condiments should not be essential, just a matter of personal taste.’

hmm.

so in the end everyone wishes they’d ordered mine. that’s karma, bitches. and the bill is just MVR345 for the four of us, including water.

just as we’re about to leave, a man screams from the deep underbelly of the restaurant.

‘that was perhaps a little too authentic,’ mutters nadheemadhi.