I vividly recall a cold November day, at a truck stop mall on our way to Hangzhou, mom and I sat eating lunch and I was making a complete mess of maneuvering my meal using (or not) chop sticks.

My noodles refusing to cooperate, kept gliding off my chopsticks… picture a chubby kid on the slides at a water park. As if that wasn’t frustrating enough and adding to my dilemma, my shoulders slowly tighten under the weight of what felt like prying eyes. Suspiciously, I sluggishly raised my head in the direction of the intense stares. There it was or rather, there THEY were…4 mouths opened wide with jubilation, 4 heads swinging back and forth in delightful glee, 8 eyes on the verge of elated tears… men… four of them…the butt of their excitement… ME…in my NOODLE-STRUGGLE SOUP combat.

At that point, what could I do?... the only self-respecting thing left to do…feeling the rumble rise from my hungry belly, I roared in laughter right along with them, picking up those pesky noodles with my hands, I ate like the very essence of my life depended on this meal, happy to be in this new place spreading and receiving the joy that comes with any new adventure.

China remains in my heart.

PS: I still have not mastered the art of eating with chopsticks…LOL

MyUTOtrips #3 Kimberley, Forde