I am officially in China, there’s no doubt about it. My stomach told me so. Take my advice if you ever come here: don’t mess with the drinking water. Trust me. Please. I beg you.
The morning after our late-night massage parlor party, David, Giannina and I woke up for a breakfast of beef soup and goose. It’s interesting, but I never really noticed how much I take for granted the simple ability to walk into a restaurant in Japan, read the menu, and order. My knowledge of kanji often gives me hints as to the contents of a dish here in China, but even so you never really know what you’re going to get – one time I pointed at a dish that I recognized to contain “chicken” and what I got was fried chicken chunks, each containing gigantic pieces of bone that were impossible to eat around.
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