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Tag: China

United by Food

Travel Journal, 52

The best mushrooms I have ever eaten are found in the town of Mae Sai, Thailand. Specifically, at a Chinese restaurant that specializes in Yunnan food. Yunnan province in China lies a mere five-hour drive from this place.

Turn right out of the restaurant and go to the border—about a quarter mile.

Cross the Myanmar border, pending any security problems, and continue onto Myanmar National Highway 4 until you get to Mong Lah Rd and turn right. This will in turn take you to the province of Yunnan in southernmost China.

The food there is spicy and very good.

But, truthfully, I’ve never been to China.

So when a friend told us that a family member owned a Yunnan restaurant, we jumped at the opportunity to meet up.

We were met by people we did not know, to eat food we’d never eaten, in a place we’d never been, to experience things we’d never experienced. But the company of strangers quickly shifted to friendship. I sat next to a cousin of a friend. His English faltered and crumbled at every attempt, which is more than I can say about my Chinese. Somehow, I found out that he likes to run (as do I), orders his running shoes from Japan, and owns a tire company nearby. But as the food hit the table and the chopsticks began to fly, language skills didn’t seem to matter so much.

The giant marble table had a type of “lazy Susan” that covered most of its surface. Each person got an empty plate set before them. And all the food was shared as the lazy Susan was wheeled about. A tray of mushrooms appeared and I took several and placed them on my plate. The mushrooms were quartered and had been soaked in a brine of soy sauce and some other spices, then baked. It gave the mushrooms a dense, almost crunchy texture.

If there is one thing that me and the Chinese man communicated clearly that night it was that these mushrooms blew us away. Food crosses far more borders that any ambassador.

The reason TV food shows attract people is that food unites us. Eating ties us together. Whether black, white, Chinese, or Jewish, you have to eat. And it’s not something reserved for only a select people. Perhaps that’s why poverty and starvation give us so much sorrow.

I recently heard former astronaut Garrett Reisman say that, “the things that unite us are stronger than the things that divide us.” Not only does this saying make me feel good, but I think I actually believe it. Sure, it’s cliched and a little derivative. But the dividing aspects of humanity never last. Sure, they might lead to disputes and wars, but those end and peace eventually prevails. And though the dividing factors of life tend to get a lot of attention, the factors that unite us are far more important.

 

anthony forrest

 

Travel Journal, 2

They do that. We drink beer.

Warning: this story is political—but barely.

It was late and everybody was hungry. It was also cold. Tokyo, though sprawling, is easily walkable. Each section (or prefecture) can be reached quite simply by the extensive public transit, coursing through the metropolis like blood vessels carrying people to the vital areas of Tokyo.

We found our hotel after having walked too far. Tired feet, cold bodies, and empty stomachs make traveling the opposite of fun. To make matters worse, many shops and restaurants had already closed. We stumbled about Tokyo near Ueno Park for a half an hour before we walked by a dimly lit café down a dark side street. Elated, the four of us opened the door to the tiny diner to find only two other customers feasting on noodles and beer.

Narita, Japan

We sat down and a boisterous lady came to take our order. She reminded me of a classic diner waitress back in the US: pen in hair, notebook in hand, maybe smells like cigarettes, treats you like family, maybe is family, maybe her name is Marge. All of that—but Japanese. You get the picture.

She spoke no English.

We began grunting at pictures of food on the wall. Her clarifying questions were met with more guttural noises from us. Communication was going as well as could be expected.

Fortunately, a kind-hearted soul at the nearby table began translating for us. With food ordered I talked with our newfound friend.

“Where are you from? I asked.

He pointed to his chest and said, “China. Where you from?”

“United States”

“Oh, Donald Trump?” (His broken pronunciation of the President’s name sounded more like Donut Chum, but I digress.)

We all perked up and agreed. Why yes, we come from the land of Trump. A stern look crossed his face as he leaned in as if to tell us a secret.

“Trade war!” he growled.

Our smiles vanished and a silent pause hit the ceiling. His stern look quickly dwindled and he and his friend exploded into laughter. We all joined in.

“No, no. Is okay,” said he. “They do that… we drink beer.”

Across the Earth, there are people like us—people trying to enjoy life and carry on. As the world’s leaders play political crochet, there are noodles to eat, places to see, views to view, lives to live, and people to laugh with.

Don’t miss out.

anthony forrest

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