Red Giant (China)

“ Action is Character ” - F. Scott Fitzgerald

Loathsome as I felt traveling all day from Bangkok to Hong Kong, and Hong Kong to Shanghai, I was in a surprising state of energy when arriving passed midnight at Pu dong International Airport. Again, I met with a companion, and again we began traveling together on a Grand tour of China; at least as much as should be affectionately seen in two weeks time. I suppose I should label my arrival and departure to Shanghai as brief - I would see her again in two handfuls of days. Very well, on to the water-town of Xi Tang, outside of Shanghai but a short 45 minute bus trip. Xi Tang is a quaint and cozy town; it is a slightly crowded sanctuary of lights and canals, and bridge stairways, and red Chinese lamps, and curious people and peaceful air. The streets are abutted by the water-ways and overhanging lounges of restaurants, shops, food stands, and jewelry stores. Paddle boats lazy down the canals trying their damndest to pose as those in Venice. Presumably, it is a tourist location, but for nationals of China only, as I was isolated on my own island of Western appearance, and wading in waters of mainland culture mostly. Readily enough, I adapted to the looks received from Chinese vacationers. Upon seeing me for the first time, more than one but less than two dozen stood a stance of jolting surprise when registering my massive dimensions. Perhaps I have never seen such a look before. Eyes wide open and mouth the same. Why, I think should there have been any bugs, they could have skipped dinner! Dinner; speaking of the meal brings up a particularly troubling one of my own. It involved a dish called “Stinky Tofu”. Now, many prepared tastes show no respect for their prepared smells; in fact, they taste quite the opposite of what they smell like; but “Stinky Tofu” does not follow this

observation. Rather, the taste of the dish and the smell of the dish are harmonious in their journey through the steamy streets and alleyways of China. They are mutual and forever linked. They are wrapped tight in the same bundle. Cow shit snuck it's way into that bundle somehow, too; I do not understand how, but it did. I have never attempted to eat cow shit, at least not in a sober state, but “Stinky Tofu” is as close to it as I should ever come. Repulsive, truly repulsive, honestly and deeply repulsive. I will nominate it as the worst morsel of food that my stomach has graciously accepted. Indeed, it must have been prepared with cow shit. The cow shit was so distinct that I could taste it and decipher it from the likes of goat shit, or horse shit, or dog shit, or pig shit. Although, perhaps they added a touch of pig shit in the dish for after effect, I do not

know for sure, anyhow. I wish for a concussion if only I could forget the taste! The manner in which the Chinese eat should also be noted for the unaware. See, Chinese culture dictates long hours at the table; talking, reminiscing, laughing, and generally being in good company with one another – it is wonderful really. Should all nationalities follow its course, perhaps all nationalities would be as close as the Chinese. However, my theory of how it got to be this way has little to do with their intentions of closeness, or their focus on proximity. Rather, it is the relentlessly delicate and formidably small food that is the reason, I think. Indeed, when a dish comes to the table it looks quite intimidating, but it is a facade, and a lie; it is a bluff charge, and it is a cruel one. The amount of shells one needs to peel, and the amount of left over skeletal support that he needs to stack up next to his original plate is enough to build another tower of empty hopes. In fact, the remainder is larger than the initial because of negative space! How is it possible? So many crustaceans! I feel I have done no labor at all, and my stomach is not sure whether it is full because of the large number of swallows, or empty because of the long time for digestion. This brings me back to the point of my rambling, which is that the Chinese are supremely sociable at meals not because of their intentions of closeness, or their focus on proximity, but because of the challenging mechanics of their food. But damn those little things are tasty! By and by, we proceeded to Jia Xing, whereupon we met some more Chinese companions. And, of course, our first order of business was to eat. So, without delay, we began ordering a heavy quantity of food; seemingly everything on the menu was pointed at for our order. Unfortunately, that included cow penis. It sits alone at the pit of my “unusual eats” list. Let us view the list now:

Unusual Eats - Asia

• Pigeon
• Eel Soup
• Street Fried Crickets
• Duck Intestine
• Stinky Tofu
• Grilled Scorpion
• Fish Eyeball
• Cow Penis

I will forget most of the details of how the thing tasted, due to my concern in swallowing it as fast as possible, but I do recall that it was plain, and mild, and had the most wretched texture of anything I have ever eaten in my whole entire adult life. My only order of business was to appear calm and orderly in front of my Chinese companions in an impossible effort to respect their culture. I gagged twice, and nearly released once, but was able to act as if those were coughing motions. I am content now that it is over. May I never meet that meal again!

The City of Jia Xing is not huge in comparison with other Chinese cities; actually, it is considered a “small” city. Why, I have never known a “small” city to host a population of over 1 million people! I suppose that is small in comparison with Beijing's 23 million, or Shanghai's 25 million, but it is a substantial metropolis for a humble traveler who was raised in a town of less than 15,000. China's enormity is hard to fathom for a man like that. It is hard to imagine even when it is right in front of him and in no need of imagining. I digress. It was in Jia Xing that we had the time to enjoy some nightlife. Whether it was playing liar's dice, or walking along the river, or trying street food, or watching the waves of people interact with each other; we found entertainment anyway we could, and we found alcohol anyway we could, what is more. Surely it was a fine night. I noticed a lot that I hadn't noticed consciously about Chinese culture until then; like their smoking habits. The Chinese smoke four times more cigarettes than the rest of the world combined – I have not checked this stat or verified it in anyway, but it must be true, and perhaps even an underestimate. By the time one cigarette is finished, another is promptly offered, and it is never rejected. To run out of cigarettes in China would be a disaster on par with an earthquake or a volcanic eruption, or being hit by an asteroid. Staying the night in a Chinese apartment is like taking a bath in Mercury. It is like being in a West Virginian bowling alley! Xi Tang was lovely.  Jia Xing was superb.  China is magnificent.