Fish are friends, not food.

..but yesterday, we were food. We finally ventured out of the resort in a bumpy-ride van and sweated several buckets at some tourist destinations: first, we visited a bunch of rocks with stuff written on them, some poetic fiddlefaddle about the spot being the end of the earth or sommat. Laden with seashell trinkets of all sorts, people of all ages tried to sell us stuff. You start to feel pity for them all after a while.

Then, we went to eat an entirely vegetarian meal at a buddhist temple. Monks get to run “nonprofit” organizations, but somehow, they decide to charge 150 RMB a person for admission. Food was good, but completely oil soaked to make up for the lack of meat–they didn’t give many veggies in their veggie form.

Oh–I’ve gained 8 pounds, I think. Probably a combination of being forced into drinking fruit juices (they don’t have the concept of cold water) and eating fried stuff. Usually people manage to bring me a glass of hot water, which I spoon into the soup bowl to cool, but they never refill it, probably thinking that it was juice that was paid for by the cup. Also, since breakfast is included in the room rate, I eat probably the equivalent of a week’s worth of breakfast in one meal. Funny thing, I still gravitate toward the toast and jam–besides my requisite soymilk and occasional tureen of ginger congee, I don’t voluntarily eat plain or mung bean (“green bean”) congee for breakfast. Also interestingly, it’s the only meal where they have cabbage. Restaurants aren’t a fan of it, I guess.

On the topic of food..After we ate, we headed toward a hot spring whose specialty is that little fish come to eat your dead skin, biting you. After being greeted by dozens of partially dressed, unstalled female bodies (true communist fashion) in the changing room, I dipped a few legs into the tepid water. The first thing I noted was the mass of green fishpoop that I stirred up; then, the fish started biting. Biting me. At first, their little lips felt like prickly, itchy needles, but my tolerance built by the end of the first hour; by the 15th minute, my mom’s legs had acquired an opaque covering of little conniseurs. [She apparently has more dead skin than I do and twitches less; I never got such a thick coating.]

Unfortunately, they didn’t allow cameras–anything that could be taken into the hotspring had to be appropriate for the dressing room too. Conveniently, this allowed them to charge 30 bucks for a picture. Ergo, I have no pictures.

Today, we went to a hillish mountain that had a backstory about a deer and a girl. Lazily (or to save ourselves from the mosquitos), we went up the mtn mechanically: think the climbing part of a roller coaster, except much, much longer. We got off, climbed some stairs, looked at the city, and got down. Doofy (younger cousin) and Aunt Corn rode on a carrycar-ish-thing between the dismount from the rising and the stairs.

Aunt Corn is called Aunt Corn because her name (yu min) sounds like the words for corn (yu mi). The difference of a nasal has not protected her from the many jokes; nota bene: “Yu” is not “yew”–think french “u”. Pucker your mouth (“ooooo”) and flatten your tongue against the top of your mouth (“eeeeee”). The u actually should have an umlaut.

After that, we slightly descended the mountain to feed the deer at the deer park. It was kind of a terraced smelly dung-covered area with large hairy animals, but feeding them was fun–they sure like their grass. There was a funny deer who appeared to have a runny nose–they tranquilized, bound, and crated him somewhere, telling us that they were taking it down the mountain, and that it wasn’t ill.

The rest of the day was spent in the city: mainly, we bought tropical fruit, dried seafood, and trinkets. I bought a set of island-print thingies–for the price, they fit well enough. [to put it another way: if I gained 64 pounds, it would still probably fit and look just the same.] Will post pictures of the fruit.

Mosquito bite count: 5


4 thoughts on “Fish are friends, not food.

  1. Re: Yeah, that’s nothing…
    Yeah, well, you haven’t been to 1361 Hooker Lane, Leicester VT, 05somethingsomething. I probably had more bites than measures to play, on both instruments combined. (It was chamber music camp.)
    I think I got another few, actually; I’m bound to get more in Beijing.

  2. I told you you’d get fat! That’s what China does to people like us! But it’s okay, we’ll still love you.
    We brought dried seafood back. I scared Amanda with it. Come to think of it, it scares me too.

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