La Vie Niçoise

The feeling is intense and ever-present. It's kind of like a spidey-sense, knowing deep down that something is amiss. The air weighs down heavily on Nice, consoling her in light of this somber fact:

There is no bubble tea in this town.

No one knows what it is, except for maybe Kenzo because I've talked his ear off exclaiming the wonders of the exotic (although I swear, very Canadian) drink.

We took on the challenge of finding the raw tapioca balls ourselves to make the drink ourselves. As there is no T&T in France, we systematically visited every asian store in the vicinity. It was kind of cool hearing asian-accented French...

- "Vous avez des boules de tapioca? Des grands comme ca?" (Do you carry tapioca pearls?)*mini hand symbol for OK*
- "Comme ca?" (Like this?)
- "Non, plus grand en fait..." (No, bigger, actually)
- "Non non, tapioca! Seulement petit petit!" (No no tapioca only small small)

Alright. Over and over, it was the same thing. No fat pearls, and why in the world would you want them anyway.

At the end of the day, I did realise that this onerous journey for the Real Deal would only make the result taste sweeter. We'd find a way. Don't get me started on the difficulties of making tapioca balls from scratch... (for the record, I only heard how tough it was second-hand lol).