Wei says Chinese will make food of it if it moves or grows in the ground, and he is pretty much right from what I have seen. I read a saying somewhere that goes like this, "When the sun rises in Africa, the antelope knows it must outrun the fastest lion or it will die. When the lion wakes, he knows he must outrun the slowest antelope or he will die." I’m here to tell you that whether you run, crawl, creep, slither, or swim, you’d better have it in overdrive 24 hours a day in China – or you’re in the pot looking out.

About my second day in Nanning, when asked if I like seafood, I said, "Sure." Off we went. Seven of us schlepped to a restaurant inhabiting several floors of a somewhat dilapidated building, where we were greeted by hostesses in fur-collared dresses that I would have liked to examine more closely, in a professional sense, of course. One must be observant and thorough, even though the dresses left little to the imagination. We were led to a private room with an ancient Chinese motif. My friends all said "BU" (No) and on we went to the next room, which was decorated in Japanese style with the table sitting in a big square hole where you put your legs. Everyone smiled and we sat down

Chinese banquet tables have a huge turntable that covers much of the eating surface, leaving just enough room to put your tea and rice bowls. The waitress came around with what I call the tea gun; a teapot with a 4-foot spout. To fill our cups, she put the tip about a foot away from the cup and the stream hit the mark every time. Our marksman was good and everyone had a hot steaming cup of Cha in seconds, with tea pieces still floating to the bottom when the last cup was topped off. Yuening pointed to my cup and said, "Oolong tea; very good," while giving the universal thumbs-up gesture. Actually, Chinese tea is very weak to the American palate – looks like water, tastes like water. Like Italian pizza, Chinese tea is a strange variant of the American thing, from my ethnocentric perspective. I am sure it is an acquired taste and they have had a long time to acquire it here.

After much slurping and warming of hands on the small cups, my hosts got up and we started down some stairs to a large room filled with tanks and aquariums that bubble and foam like a well-lit Frankenstein’s laboratory. In the 50 or so containers were every imaginable kind of thing that lives in the water. There were 20 kinds of mollusks, many fish, squid, crustaceans, and unidentifiable things that squirm and writhe. Everyone pointed and looked questioningly at me. I glanced at these aquatic mysteries and dodged any responsibility for their future demise by muttering that since it’s my treat they should choose whatever they like.

We walk around the room and they pointed in various tanks to select our dinner. Several large crabs were picked up by the waitress, only to be returned to the tank after few pursed lips and shakes of the head from my friends. Other seemingly identical wriggling things from the same tank usually met with approval and were then placed in a little basket after being weighed and the details noted on a piece of paper with a short note on how it should be cooked and served. We spent about 30 minutes at this process, with the ever-watchful Yuening sometimes doing her drill sergeant voice change and making the waitress shake out the water before weighing the selected item(s).

After the seafood came a tour of the little stalls that surround the seafood tanks. Here were dumplings, BBQ’d pigeons crucified on sticks, pig’s heads cooked and splayed on racks, sweet cakes and other unknowable-to-westerners things that were discussed, argued about, and rejected or selected after a few minutes of rapid-fire Chinese. We headed back to our room where the first selections were already arriving, steaming with an aroma that welcomed us to the banquet.

Each person had a small saucer and a coffee-cup sized bowl of rice, accompanied by the ubiquitous chopsticks. If you’re squeamish about communal eating, better go to McDonalds (yes, they have them here too). As the turntable was eased round and round, each person darted their utensils into this or that plate to latch on to their selection; sometimes it stopped at the rice bowl or was dragged through this or that sauce but, just as often, headed straight to it’s destination from the table. Partnered with vegetables, noodles, dumplings, spring rolls and other delicacies, this is the best damned seafood I have ever had. Hot spicy crab in a pot of oil in the middle, crunchy fried shrimp on bamboo skewers (eaten shell and all) that I call shrimp kabobs, steamed fish that were watching me about 20 minutes ago. As opposed to Western prices, I can break bread with many people here for a small amount of money. The best way to talk with people and learn more about their lifestyle in China is at the table - one of the main social activities for these guys.  All of us dined in the Chinese way for about 3 hours and it cost me a fortune – about 400 RMB ($50 US). About what 2 could eat for at Red Lobster if you never meet the lobster. The 3 lb. crustacean that was part of our repast was great. 

The next evening we went to "small food street", a restaurant where the diners stroll (more like a frantic dash here)  through the building and select from pictures of various foods which are cooked and then served at your table when you arrive back from your walk. Every imaginable thing was available, and it was all great, from the noodles to the smoked and fried sardines (eaten whole); total cost for 3 hungry people – about 160 RMB ($20 USD). I thought I must leave soon or go up a pants size in the next day or two. Chinese hosts, the best in the world, will not let you not eat and you must have some of everything. If you stop loading your bowl, they’ll do it for you with the vigor of a freezing coal shoveler.

On other evenings we go to the ‘Hot Pot’ restaurant, where a gallon-sized pot of bubbling chicken (I hope, but don’t ask) broth sits on a gas burner in the center of the table. Considering how cold it is this week, we huddle over the burner like homeless at a trash can fire. Diners select their choices from a huge 30-foot-long table that apparently contains some of every edible thing in China. When you return to the table you put the food, a few bits at a time, into the cauldron for a few seconds/minutes until it is cooked and then devour the excellent cuisine direct from the pot. All-you-can-eat, 10 RMB ($1.25 USD) per person. And you thought Thanksgiving put the pounds on! Be careful here or you will need new clothes before you head home, and if you’re my size, you’ll spend the remainder of your trip searching for them.

A bit about chopsticks and digestive catastrophe – unless you are planning to eat at Western restaurants, and therefore miss all of China’s wonderful cuisine, you must be able to wield the strange and useful chopsticks. There are no forks here at most eateries, and I would recommend that you be able to eat a bowl of peanuts, a bowl of spaghetti (slurping and bowl-to-the-lips are acceptable here) and a plate of pancakes using only chopsticks (kwaidzuh) before you get on the plane from wherever you are. If you fly China Air or another Asian airline, you will appreciate these skills when you get on the plane. If you fly Air Canada or another Western Airline, your practice will serve you well when you get to the first noodle stall in China.

On the streets and elsewhere, sanitation in China is poor compared to U.S. standards. The street mud is tracked into the restaurants and every other public building and the floors are filthy mostly all the time. This is why Chinese people trade shoes for slippers when they enter a home, and often trade those slippers for other slippers when entering bedrooms or bathrooms. Restaurant tables are many times relatively dirty, but the chopsticks are disposable and bowls are usually clean even in the most degenerate noodle stalls on the dingiest streets. I always bring the pink stuff and Ciprofloxin (an antibiotic for diarrheal difficulties), but have never needed them. Bring your store-bought and doctor-recommended remedies though; I have a notoriously iron-clad digestive tract and am a poor example of western bacterial tolerance.

My rule of thumb is: If my friends recommend a place to eat or if many Chinese people eat there – it is safe. Ask for all food to be well-cooked and served hot. Dumplings (jen-jiao=fried and schway-jiao=steamed) and cakes containing meat and/or eggs should be thoroughly re-heated or cooked in front of you. Never eat veggies or fruit raw unless you personally peel them first. Washing things in water and eating them raw is dangerous. Assume the water is poisonous and NEVER drink tap water – only bottled or boiled is safe. I have seen noone in China drink water from the tap - noone. Wash your hands often and, if possible, carry a small bottle of liquid soap and some paper towels or Kleenex. Both soap and towels are rare here in most places. These precautions have kept me from hours on the toilet and trips to the doctor’s office during my 3 forays here, and should serve you well. Remember the bugs here are different from our bugs, many probably as yet undiscovered. The last thing I want is for the latest microscopic discovery to be named after me posthumously.