Do you know how in every city there’s that one area that your mother never tells you to go to, where people with mohawks and ripped jeans smoke joints…

that’s the place that I’m going and it’s not for weed, it’s not for alcohol and it’s not for anything crazy: It’s for a bagel with some meat in it. I’m happily wandering throughout brick Lane on the lookout for a salt beef bagel and I’m not alone, I have my French friend that I met during my Hare Krishna volunteer place. He’s a tall handsome blue-eyed Frenchman that is increasingly turning crazier and crazier but I love it, he’s feeling well within my friend group and I enjoyed chatting with him. Back to the story – me and him are walking, the sun is shining and I keep bumping into people that if I took a photo of might be well worth more than 1000 words… what I’m trying to say is these people are interesting.

I’m lost just like normal but this time I’m OK with it because I’m with a friend, with my camera and just enjoying myself. Me and him are making jokes, taking photos, and looking at all the beautiful graffiti and the people walking past us. Eventually we find it off in the corner past Broccoli Lane – yes I said broccoli Lane – I know this isn’t Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs. There’s a little yellow sign saying “salt beef bagels” in big red letters. I know that there’s gonna be a line as there always is so we walk in and I check to make sure I have cash. I do and I’m going to split this bagel with my friend. I know that’s blasphemy but hey sharing is caring! He begrudgingly agrees as we’re standing in line seeing people from all around the world waiting for such a delicious treat.

There’s two old ladies that look like they have been veterans of this job for 40 years; all the shit that they have seen I can only imagine. The one girl looks at us and asked what I want, I say a salt beef bagel with a pickle, no mustard. My French friend looked at me in a confused way and I just tell him to wait and see. He shakes his head and says OK. From there we stand in line and wait to go up to old lady number two. She looks almost exactly the same and has a warm smile. She asked me in a thick British accent what I ordered so I repeat exactly what I told the other one.

She smiles and starts hacking away at the meet as if she is Jack the Ripper, put it on a freshly cooked bagel and put a handful of pickles next to it. She gives me a smile, I tell her thank you and we go stand by the table next to us. My friend and I stand there and look at it for a couple seconds. I ask him to take a couple photos of me and he laughs so I tell him it’s for the post that I’m writing! Now he does it and I give him half. Now there is something very special about sharing a hunk of meat with a friend. I don’t know what it is, but it’s a good time and a special time.

Me and him start laughing and I see the ecstasy that is forming on his face because just like me he has not had meat in two weeks. Me and him very slowly and methodically eat the delicious smoked meat and perfectly made bagel, the mixture of the sourness, the sweetness and the meatyness harkening me back to the Montreal smoked meat. I can’t complain, it’s such an amazing sandwich but sadly since it’s only half it’s gone a little too soon.

Me and my friend look at each other like two lost kids hoping to find the ball we kicked over the fence but yet there was no more ball, and there is no more sandwich. We give each other a fist-pound and go off on our way back home.

It’s good to do stuff like that – sharing moments with your friend and I can never complain about eating some meat.

I love you all and I hope you enjoy the post.