Squanto would approve
Thanksgiving. Again.
If you are hoping for entertaining stories about buying a turkey in a country where everything but turkey is eaten, or about how to store your frozen turkey since your fridge here is miniature (ask the store to keep it and deliver it), or how to thaw it (in a plastic bin, moved from garden to balcony to keep the cats out), flip through my back posts. This is, after all, year 8 for me in China. Thanksgiving buffets abound now in Shanghai and I barely know anyone here any more to cook for. We are going to a restaurant tomorrow.
But it turns out I do have a little Thanksgiving story to share after all. Here is a photo of the tree in our garden that lured us to rent the house where we live.And here the perspective from our living room:
There were even more of the fruits before I think that they are clementines in English; in Mandarin they are juzi but we have already started picking and eating.
Today Wang ayi, our housekeeper, asked me, didnt I think that there were more fruit this year? And bigger? And sweeter?
I had to agree on all counts.
She beamed. The reason, she explained, is that while I was gone for such a long time this summer, she put yu (yu like you eat, she gestured while explaining; yes, I get it fish!) all around the tree. It stunk something fierce in the heat, she went on, but it was worth it.
Yuck. Rotting fish outside in my garden in Shanghai in July. I hope it didnt bother our neighbors. I wonder if the fish stink has anything to do with the perpetual stink in the ground floor powder r! oom. Nah , lets not go there.
Instead, lets be grateful for the bountiful harvest. And note that rotting fish seems to be key in China as well as in the Massachusetts story. Happy Thanksgiving, everybody!
Want to climb up here ...
If you are hoping for entertaining stories about buying a turkey in a country where everything but turkey is eaten, or about how to store your frozen turkey since your fridge here is miniature (ask the store to keep it and deliver it), or how to thaw it (in a plastic bin, moved from garden to balcony to keep the cats out), flip through my back posts. This is, after all, year 8 for me in China. Thanksgiving buffets abound now in Shanghai and I barely know anyone here any more to cook for. We are going to a restaurant tomorrow.
But it turns out I do have a little Thanksgiving story to share after all. Here is a photo of the tree in our garden that lured us to rent the house where we live.And here the perspective from our living room:
There were even more of the fruits before I think that they are clementines in English; in Mandarin they are juzi but we have already started picking and eating.
Today Wang ayi, our housekeeper, asked me, didnt I think that there were more fruit this year? And bigger? And sweeter?
I had to agree on all counts.
She beamed. The reason, she explained, is that while I was gone for such a long time this summer, she put yu (yu like you eat, she gestured while explaining; yes, I get it fish!) all around the tree. It stunk something fierce in the heat, she went on, but it was worth it.
Yuck. Rotting fish outside in my garden in Shanghai in July. I hope it didnt bother our neighbors. I wonder if the fish stink has anything to do with the perpetual stink in the ground floor powder r! oom. Nah , lets not go there.
Instead, lets be grateful for the bountiful harvest. And note that rotting fish seems to be key in China as well as in the Massachusetts story. Happy Thanksgiving, everybody!
Want to climb up here ...
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