He is cooking squid.
He is cooking squid. I think. Little squid-looking legs.
Street food in China is entirely different from street food in Canada, and I really think we're missing out. A lot of my favorite food memories are of things you can buy on the side of the road in China. Yummy buns filled with meat, these sorta but not really pancake things that are rolled up around hot dogs (more like crepes, I guess), all sorts of things on sticks (like deep fat fried tofu, which I loved), and squid.
This was again in Nanjing, and I asked the nice man (well, in pantomime) if I could take his picture, which he smiled and nodded. I think he was flattered, but it's so hard to say. I couldn't believe they were selling what looked like tiny little squid legs on sticks in the middle of the street for anyone to have.
I was really tempted (and he offered more than once, and they were cheap), but I was travelling alone at the time and the idea of being sick because of something I ate and not having anyone there didn't really appeal. So I passed on the squid. But there were lots of other foods I tried, and I got to the point in restaurants where I'd often just point at random on the menu just to see what I'd get.
So, yeah. Squid. On a stick. That people ate. In the street.
It still kinda boggles my mind.
Now I'm actually sitting here staring at the computer trying to come up with something to say that's at least a little bit interesting, and coming up dry.
I used to have a notebook I filled with point form notes about things to blog about, but I think it got shoved in a filing cabinet in my never-ending struggle to get things put away in this apartment. And thus, I am dull.
Um... when I was going through a box yesterday of things I thought were junk (and most of them were), I found a couple of books I thought were gone forever. So, I guess that's good. And I started slowly going through my collection of magazines. I'm taking them with me to work, flipping through them, cutting out anything that interests me, and then leaving them there. I leave a little note on them telling the rest of the staff that if they don't want to read them, just toss them in recycling. Got that okayed with the boss. If I take 5 magazines with me to work every day, I may be through them all by the end of the year. (I have a million magazines, it seems, and I keep finding more.)
Or, you know, when Margery comes up on the weekend to decimate the laundry with me, I might just close my eyes and toss them all in the recycling bins. Then they'll be gone, gone, and I won't be wondering anymore. As someone emailed me to remind me, everything is eventually reprinted, and most of it I could find online anyway.
I also found someone willing to take the entire huge amount of pink (pink? what was I thinking?) envelopes off my hands. She'll actually use them. Yay!
Yeah, I'm dull today. Sorry 'bout that. But, at least I can write in sparkly text now. Watch my mad HTML skillz.