Noodles and Melancholy

I caught the bus back from work - overcrowded and unpleasant as usual, but I had bad back, and the thought of walking home was not conducive to pleasant thoughts.
I managed to find a seat, and sat down staring at my reflection in the window. On the seat next to me, a young man talked to an older Chinese man about noodles. Their conversation was hypnotically fascinating. The young man seemed quite eager to express his opinion that certain types of noodles were better than other noodles. He said to the older man that as he had noodles every day, he was quite an expert. He did not like noodles that were too spicy. He was impressed with the cheapness of them. It soon became apparent that the two did not know each other previous to the bus journey - or perhaps the bus stop preceding the journey. The Chinese man's english was rudimentary, and his side of the conversation consisted of interjections such as 'prawn - better', and 'yes - it depends how you like'. The younger man continued in his attempt to engage the older man in some kind of heated discussion regarding noodles. This continued for the whole journey. There was one odd point in this conversation - I had lost thread of the conversation and had been staring at my reflection in the bus window, trying to see what I would like in ten years time when I am 50. I had almost succeeded when a certain of voice the Chinese man used bought me back to listening to him again. I have no idea what they had been talking about, but the Chiense man said 'it is a very clean place'. I have no idea whether they were talking about countries, restaurants, or even noodles, but there was a certain sense of yearning in the Chinese man's voice, a melancholy as if longing for a home that was far away. The younger man continued talking about noodles and Chinese restaurants, and I got off the bus, and have no idea how the conversation turned out.