shamu

写了两篇感想，想放下来写点更有内容的。
一直想作个手写的blog,也好让我心爱的tablet派上用场。自己的字虽然不算漂亮，看起来还算亲切。终于有了第一篇。

Gotta continue on what I have started.
The first place I wanted to go after seeing my parents was….. the grocery store. Yes, I know it’s silly but it’s the grocery store I miss the most. All the ready-to-eat cooked meats and vegetarian produce, the yogurts and diary products (yes, they are 100 times better than the American ones), the pickled dry fruits, and not to mention the sunflower seeds. Just standing between the isles and knowing that I can enjoy 99% of the foods here (vs. maybe 10% in an American grocery store) gives me such a warm and fuzzy right-at-home feeling. Plus exploring all the new products developed after I went abroad–I could spend two hours just in a neighborhood grocery store maybe one tenth of the size of a typical American grocery store. And I don’t need to buy much to actually eat–the smell and touch is all I need.
Now I remember how excited I was even to enter a Ranch 99 in LA. It combines the Chinese smell and the American size. But not quite in the smell department. Even that could make my heart pounding like I’ve just run a 3k race. Yes, I know this is embarrassing to admit, but right there, I sensed something that would not change for the rest of my life, no matter how westernized I become.
Back to Beijing, I could not resist but bought some tofu products. Those of you who’ve been to China know how much variety we have in tofu–dried, fried, pickled, frozen, and other processing I can’t even find English for. To us, tofu is like cheese to westerners. We simply cannot live without it. As much as I love cheese, tofu is where my heart is.
I AM home.

The Japan Airlines flight to Beijing was an uneventful except for the sweet voice of the Japanese flight attendants. At the airport, after I got my luggage and went out, I looked around but didn’t find mom or dad in the waiting crowd. I bought an IC phone card to call dad’s cell phone and saw them immediately—they just entered the building seconds ago and were looking into the luggage area. They haven’t changed much in two years, except for the gray hair above dad’s ears. “Mom and dad!” I yelled at them to get their attention. I walked over and wanted to hug them, especially mom, but somehow I didn’t—I’m still regretting to this day. This would never have happened to an American, but once I landed in Beijing, I was back into my Chinese self.
Pushing my cart and dodging the guys with little flyers advertising cheap air tickets, we crossed the street and got into the parking garage. It was just like any garage in America, with multiple stories and painted but compact parking spaces. We walked to our car, a shiny silver Volkswagon Bora (Jetta in the US), which I have seen in pictures. Dad’s dream finally materialized, I thought.
Dad’s driving as mom still didn’t know the direction well. Parking was free for under 30 minutes—again, just like the US. Two years saw a lot of changes in China and I can’t predict what it’ll be like in ten years.
It’s already 10PM by the time we got home. Wife was waiting for me—she’d been back for about two months to treat her back pain (disc degeneration). She’s in pain and of course glad to see me.
I needed a rest, I thought, and quickly went to sleep.
I woke up at around 6AM, with no jet lag at all. It’s always been so smooth after every trip to China.
It’s nice to be home.

Well, maybe only the second part, literally.
In today’s New York Times: (free registration required)
Every American tourist should see before they come.

When I came back to the US from my one-month visit home, the first thing my Chinese friends asked me was always “how did you like the food”? Looking into their envious eyes, I knew my answer would probably upset them:” I only enjoyed the food for the first ten days of my trip.”
That was my honest answer, and often was greeted by the what-are-you-talking-about disbelief for the next ten seconds or so, until I broke it with the following:
“Yeah, my stomach was so overwhelmed that after ten days it just took whatever was offered and could not really tell the difference.”
My mind fast rewinded to those days in Chengdu and Beijing. Even days right before I came back. Yes, like every Chinese about to go back, I visited the food forums and downloaded the Beijing food map, Chengdu gourmet directory, etc. I’ve asked my Chinese friends here what they had last time they went back. I started to make plans for my little food tour. I couldn’t sleep for a couple of days before my trip, thinking of all the food that are waiting for me, those I grew up with, those I have read about for so many times online and those I haven’t heard about. What a joy to see, and eat, all the foods I’d been dreaming and reading about!!
It was true. For the first ten days, at least.
Then I started to realize how important the atmosphere can be in an dining experience. It’s one thing to eat the food you grew up with in the environment you grew up with–like the 卤煮火烧 I had in a small no-name restaurant in Xisi—don’t take me wrong, it WAS delicious. Yet when the food you want to enjoy is always served in a noisy, steamy, crammed setting, it takes away the joy so much that the taste simply does not matter any more. I tried to blame myself for such snobbishness and force myself to forget the environment and concentrate on just the food.
That did not work. Like foreplay to sex, the atmosphere is indispensable to enjoying good food. Yet unlike the foreplay, I found it out the hard way.