February 2009 Archives

Surely anyone who reads this blog regularly already knows this, but for the benefit of the cyber-archeologists examining this data hundreds of years after my death, I took a photograph of everything I ate in the year 2008. Everything. Meals, snacks, beverages, candy, the occasional biodegradable packing peanut or two; if I ingested it between 12:00am on January 1st and 11:59pm on December 31st, then you can find a picture of it here.

Did I ever miss a meal? Yes, about five times in the first few months, before hunger and shutter-clicking fused into a single instinct in my brain-sea. In those cases I've either ordered the same thing again the next day (as with a certain pork BBQ sandwich this summer), or found a similar picture online (as with a certain plate of green beans and potatoes). Also, you won't find any pictures of water because I decided it didn't count (with the exception of one particularly beautiful cupsworth).

I'm also missing four days in October (camera stolen). I sat down with a pen and paper for two hours and strained my cranium until I had a list of everything I ate during those four days, planning on re-eating it all. But besides one disgusting zongzi experiment, there was nothing that I didn't already have heaps of photos of (noodles, greasy lettuce, kung pao chicken), so I Lazytowned out of that rescue mission, bought a new camera and just kept taking pictures.

So with all of those disclaimers out of the way, what follows shall be a Greatest Hits tour of a year's worth of chow, with highlights and low points from each month.

(P.S. If you're reading this blog, then the odds are about equal that you a) know my Julia personally, or b) are my Julia. Therefore I should probably mention that Julia did exactly the same project and you should take a look at hers too.)

Number of insects I've accidentally stepped on, in the dark, with my bare right foot: 2

Number of insects I've accidentally crushed to death, in the dark, with my bare right foot: 0

Number of insects to have escaped gruesome crushing thanks to natural concavity of my foot: 2

Incident 001

Date: Circa 1995

Location: Cabin, Lake Cumberland, KY, USA

Natural concavity in foot: arch

Insect: katydid

Damage to insect: none

Damage to me: one nightmare, brief katydid phobia

Incident 002

Date: 10 minutes ago

Location: Bathroom, Guangzhou, Guangdong, PRC

Natural concavity in foot: under-toe bridge

Insect: cockroach

Damage to insect: slight bending of wing (already dying of poison), flushed down toilet

Damage to me: loss of 20 minutes of sleep time spent pondering foot concavities

I was taken out to dinner last week by two couples whose two sons are my new tutees. The dinner was delicious and awkward. As was pretty much every traditional round-table Chinese dinner at which I've been a guest, so not much to write home about there. But here's a quick recap:

- I asked the parents if the children had English names. One mother said no, but she had considered naming them "Tangmu" and "Jili", which induced a ripple of giggles in the other parents. I had to think for a minute before I could laugh too (Tom and Jerry). They suggested it would be better if I decided their English names, and I said I'd have to think about it.

- I asked the parents if they have English names (none of them can speak English). One of the mothers smiled eagerly and wrote something on a piece of paper and handed it to me. As the paper changed hands I felt all eight of their eyes on me, waiting for the initial reaction from a native English speaker. "HEJER". It was so hard not to laugh. It was such an ugly name, but I had to be polite. I told her it had a Mexican flavor to it, and she seemed surprised but placated.

- While trying to initiate conversation with the boys, I overheard the mothers talking: "On the car ride over here, I was talking with Gus about the difference between China and America, and he says China is dirtier!" "Oh. Interesting." I was shocked. Let's rewind to the actual conversation in the car:

Mrs. Chen: Do you think China is dirtier than America?

Me (lying): No. Not dirtier.

Mrs. Chen: Really? I think China is very dirty.

Me: Oh. Maybe it is a little chaotic, I guess, but not necessarily dirtier.

Mrs. Chen: (pause) Well, I think it's dirty.

So anyway, I finally managed to start interacting with the boys, who I've decided to christen "Barnes" and "Noble", by challenging Barnes to a game of chess (they had been playing each other on a tiny wooden board throughout the meal). I was pretty nervous, to be honest. Granted, the kid is in elementary school and I'm a grown-ass man, but I haven't played in years and this isn't just any elementary school student we're talking about here, this is a Asian elementary school student. They're the ones that solve Rubik's cubes in less than 30 seconds and play symphonies on electric guitars in diapers. Plus, if I lost, I'd risk losing his respect during lessons ("I'm supposed to be paying attention to this American dork who can't even play chess? Forget it, Mom!"), so I had a lot on the line here.

So when I finally pwnd him (took the better part of an hour, actually), I was PUMPED. Now that I think about it, though, should I be? Are YouTube videos of child prodigies setting unrealistic standards for Chinese children? He did lose his queen on his third move.... plus he tried to jump his rook over a pawn.... and he didn't know anything about castling.... Okay, fine. Evidence is pointing to the conclusion that the 4th grader I so thoroughly spanked at international chess is just an average 4th-grader. But at least now I can tutor Barnes Chen and Noble Zhang with complete confidence in my intellectual dominance. That's what a healthy teacher-student relationship is all about, right?

This incident was actually the second of its kind in the last week. Two days earlier I played a half-Nigerian in a pre-colonial African ware-trading card game called Jambo and won (a.k.a. collected 60 pieces of gold before she did). She was a good sport about it, but I was so happy (this was after failing miserably to settle Catan) I nearly spiked the deck.

P.S. If you've got 10 minutes of chess-enthusiasm to spare, I highly recommend this video.

I didn't cry the first time I lost my camera in China. It was pickpocketed a few months ago in the subway, and, besides a wave of frustration at not having been quick enough to grab the arm of the perpetrator and break it at the elbow with a karate chop, I felt oddly ambivalent about the whole affair. Probably because the only photos I lost were four days of food that I eat almost every day, and a shot of David and I at the worlds biggest dǐng(鼎) in Zhaoqing, a nearby town in Guangdong (insert world's biggest "ding" joke here). I got a new camera the next day and kept on shooting.

But this time, it was personal. About a week ago I stepped into my apartment with meJulie for the first time since leaving for Malaysia on January 12th for a month-long Spring Festival break, and, with a bag of mangosteens in one hand, I used the other to pat my side only to discover a non-camera where my camera used to be. The horror. We scoured the room, we wandered the streets. Nothing. Hundreds of pictures from the best vacation of my adult life, gone.

So what would kind of sights would this theoretical gentleman who sliced the camera case off my belt with a kitchen knife enjoy as he scrolls through my photos minutes before he wipes it clean and sells it for 50 RMB in the alley across from the school?

- David and I posing with four Iranian girls in Kuala Lumpur's oldest mosque (they called us over because they said we looked like Oxford graduates in our purple robes (which we had to wear to cover our scandalous legs)).

- A video of three silverleaf monkeys racing to the top of my contorted body for a bite of the green bean at the end of my outstretched arm. I risked rabies for that video, for crying out loud.

- Me making a gross face while eating a durian. Funnily enough, it wasn't the smell or taste that was gross, but the consistency. It was kind of like smushing a dirty diaper into my face. And eating it.

- Singapore Slings at the Raffles Hotel, lychee and apple martinis and free filet mignon sandwiches at the Mandarin Oriental, and the best Shirley Temple I've ever freaking had (and I've had quite a few) 266m above Singapore. Made with real lime juice, not Sprite.

- Video footage of the firecracker that sent burning ash into my left eyeball during Chinese New Year at Julia's aunt's house in Shanghai. Okay, maybe it wasn't still burning. That's what it felt like, anyway.

- A video of me juggling three live goldfish in a pond at the Shanghai Insect Museum. Wait, that one wasn't taken with my camera..... Thank you, Eamon!

- Countless photos of friends, new and old, Princetonians and Trinitarians (one of whom was pregnant!), plus Julia (not pregnant), who sadly I don't get a chance to photograph that often.

On a related note, I stopped taking pictures of my food on January 1st this year (more on that soon), and for weeks it felt wrong. It felt like I wasn't cherishing it enough, like I was just scarfing it down without caring, like I wasn't getting any nutrients. That's a bit like how I feel about the pictures I lost. Without the visual proof, it feels like it never happened, like the experiences themselves have been snatched from my very bosom. From my very bosom!

So that's where I've been, that's why I haven't written anything in over a month, and that's all for now. (...."that's what you stepped in, that's what was on your shoe, and that explains the abrasion on your palm!" - anyone want to play Guess the Reference?).