What I Learned from Boba
The tea shop looked more like a permanent pop up than an actual establishment. At 8 x 8, half the size of most American living rooms and 1/4 the size of American tea shops, it was easily overlooked by passersby after they had dodged cars and scooters to cross the four lane boulevard to the pedestrian (mostly) street that housed small boutiques -- predominately beauty or bon marche clothing -- and led to the entrance of Feng Chia University. The block catered to students: four feet from the shop, directly on the corner, a thin, thirty-something man stocked a sushi cart each afternoon after classes adjourned, and ten feet down, eggs and Taiwanese pancakes were cooked for breakfast by a cheery, diminutive matriarch in a green apron. I don't remember how I found the shop -- accident, probably -- or how I chose the flavor I would end up drinking nearly every day: pomegranate. The fruit was far from my favorite at home, I actually hadn't eaten an entire one since Michelle Bordenav...