Posts Tagged ‘shrimp chips

14
Apr
08

Dragons in An Ping

These were at the best-tasting shrimp chip shop in An Ping.

They’re made of paper.

Whenever I travel with my cousin, we are very scientific about souvenir food specialties.  There is generally copious tasting involved until the very best sample is selected.  If you’re ever in An-Ping, I recommend this shop– the spicy and the crab-flavored shrimp chips are really good too and they’re not really oily in spite of being deep-fried.  It’s right across from the fort.

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08
Apr
08

This weekend…

Three puppies with the flexibility of the newly-born slept in my lap.

I fed the dog and ended up scattering dog food all over the courtyard because… um, her head got in the way (her head was in the bowl impeding more food from going into it).

I sampled shrimp chips and bought perhaps a few too many bags.

I ate the best shao long bao EVER.

(Ate lots of yummy food that probably means I weigh more now than I did before the weekend…)

We wandered in the companionable cool evening past the oldest temple to Matsu and sat in a Japanese garden next to a large department store.

A very kind security guard let me use his phone (because as is usual, when I actually mean to use mine and NEED to use mine, it and the battery lounging in my bag were both dead) so I could be spared the 50-minute wander through the vaguely familiar environs with a map that showed me where I wanted to go, but which sort of left me lost when it came to figuring out where I actually was. He also saved me from being overcharged by the hungry taxi drivers who alternately made me feel like the most popular girl at the ball and an overdue lunch.

A helmet perched on my head at a drunken angle, bumping into the helmet of my aunt in front of me as we careened home on the back of her scooter. When we got there, it had slid down my head so it looked vaguely like a cartoon head-bump. And… I couldn’t get it off without my aunt’s assistance.

I hopped up the curl of a narrow stairway to the top of the tower where breezes blew through vents in the windows.

I made the acquaintance of banyan trees sprawling through the roof and windows of ancient storage houses.

My cousins and I got to chat for a couple minutes about the limbo of future plans before a shout and cry drew us to the children spreading flower foam dust in the living room and getting their hands on the closed utility knife.

I arranged flowers with my aunt and brought them to the section of shelves where my fourth uncle’s ashes are kept in a sealed wood box gently illuminated by the twilight that turned the palm trees to shadows.




Free Rice

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November 2017
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