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Published: November 1st 2018
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Starbucks
Mama O always knows where to find a cappuccino in the morning. The first reviews are in for comeback blog #1, and early indications sound like the sequel is never as good as the original. Olivia said I lost my wit, Rachel said I didn’t mention that I had a second dog (shout out to Biscuit) and Mom said the whole blog was “flat”. When I asked her how “flat”, she said, “it just wasn’t as funny as what you used to write, but don’t ask me if you don’t want the truth”. Tough crowd. I won’t be discouraged though by all the critics because great writers are never recognized for their brilliance and superb writing during their lifetime. And my blogs are like Game of Thrones—the first couple episodes are to set up the rest for an outstanding season.
Today was the official start to our 2 week Roots program. We began the day by trying to get our free breakfast, and after bickering with the breakfast bouncer in Mandarin, we learned that breakfast was $15 for a 3
rd person, even though it was included in our booking. It’s common place to only give 2 breakfasts at hotels in China, even if you book with 3 or more people which literally
Edna Mode
Edna is ready for a day in the sun. makes 0 sense. I thought this country was supposed to be good at math. Deciding breakfast of stale toast was not worth $15, the three amigos headed out for breakfast at the local Xing Ba Ke, aka Starbucks. There are Starbucks every 3 feet here. It goes Starbucks, 7-11, Family Mart, McDonalds, KFC, and then it repeats with Starbucks again. On every street corner. The one exception is a huge IKEA that interrupts the repeating order, but it’s nice because it feels like a little piece of Sweden right in China for me. Swedish meatballs with mashed potatoes and lingonberry jam for $1 US. What a steal.
After our Starbucks, we got on a bus for 2 hours to our first stop: lunch. Mom told me I couldn’t sit with her on the bus (I’m definitely a third wheel on this trip) so I sat next to Mamie. Mamie is worried about getting melanoma on this trip so she wore not one but two hats for protection, along with her sunglasses she special ordered from her ophthalmologist paired with her button down work shirts (“Well I don’t use them for work anymore now that I’m retired!”). Her sunglasses are
Lunch
Notice the PBR bottles in the background. the ones they give people right after their eyes are dilated. A few years ago, I asked her how many Asians she knew with skin cancer, and she said her doctor who practiced for 40 years only knew of 4 Asians with skin cancer, and half of them had other cancers first. But when I asked her today, in true Edna Mode fashion, she said “Daaaling, life favors the prepared”. I think the sun just favors those that aren’t covered in freckles, but who am I to fight with Edna Mode.
We finally arrived at the restaurant for lunch and walked into fermented fish and goose hanging at the front of the restaurant. Honestly, it looked like what we used to throw into the crayfish trap as kids and not something I would want to put in my mouth. But, when in Rome! The only good news is fermented fish does not smell nearly as bad as fermented tofu. For lunch, there was spicy fish soup, fermented fish, fermented goose, duck, passionfruit lamb, and many other dishes, served with the oh-so-traditional Pabst Blue Ribbon beer. I really thought after I got a job out of college and started making
Crazy Rich Asian Estate
A picture of the canal built in the estate. money, I’d never have to drink PBR again, but alas, here I am. When lunch was done, I walked outside and noticed that they had placed all the vegetables they were preparing on the ground. Just laying them out there in the sun. Not on any paper or anything. Glad I didn’t see that until after I was done eating.
After lunch, my details get a little hazy. And not from drinking ½ a glass of PBR, but because I totally stopped paying attention. Traveling with your parents is great, because you can tune out and tune back in whenever, and count on my mom to have taken a bunch of notes and have asked a lot of questions. Seriously, you’d think we were traveling through her ancestral village.
We spent the afternoon walking around an old village that had be deserted during WW2. Prior to the war, some people in the village had been relatively wealthy. One man designed a house so that each of his wives had their own floors in his house, which were essentially apartments with kitchens and bedrooms on each level. There were 5 levels for each of his 5 wives. We walked
Third Wheel
We each get our own bed! Mine is the tiny roll away cot in the back of this photo. through it, but not one for museums (and also not one that could understand the Chinese speaking tour guide), I went straight to the penthouse for a spectacular view overlooking the entire village on the roof. It had 360 degree views of the rice patties, and actually reminded me a lot of Hawaii.
Next, we drove to a nearby estate. Built by a crazy rich Asian (I think everyone on the bus made this joke today), the estate had its own canal system built (there were no roads at the time—everyone moved around on water), gardens, a house (each wife on a different floor, a common trend I’m noticing), a menagerie (that still had birds), an outdoor bath, rose gardens, other houses (assuming they were for the servants but again I didn’t listen to the tour guide), and more. The tour guide spoke in Cantonese, but whenever I asked my dad what he was saying, my dad would say “built in 1928” or “5 sons” or “4 wives”, after the tour guide had talked for 5 minutes straight. I called him out and asked if he only understood the numbers. He pled the 5
th amendment.
Next it was time to eat again. I don’t know what the place was called, but it definitely had “goose” in the name. It was our first non-seafood heavy meal. Every dish had some part of the goose in it. Goose blood, goose broth soup, goose meat, etc, all while broadcasting the life of a goose from egg to in front of you for dinner on a huge TV. I wasn’t brave enough to try the goose blood, but they did come around with baijiu (rice wine). When I was a broke college kid living in Shanghai, I could only afford to buy the baijiu that’s the equivalent to buying $11 vodka that comes in a plastic container—worse than Pinnacle. It was so gross. My dad didn’t know what it was, so I of course told the guy that my dad needed a shot. Giggling to myself, I watched as he took a shot, until he was like “mm not bad!” Then he proceeded to have 2 more. So I tried some, and while not the first thing I would drink, it turns out when it’s the top shelf stuff, it’s not half bad! Fun fact: baijiu is 100 proof alcohol and my parents usually split one Tsingdao (4%). Asian glow followed quickly after. Luckily, I’m a Hapa and I’m safe from Asian glow, and can also outdrink my dad any day of the week.
Now, we’re at a new hotel where we’ll be for the next few days. Tomorrow we start our “rooting” and going into the first few villages. Mamie has already been voted the funniest person here. Dad’s already been tipsy. Mom has already established she’s the most into Chinese ancestry out of the 40 people here. And now we’ve established I’m an underappreciated writer and third wheel to my parents. All in all, a good start to the trip!
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