I wish I had something as insightful to share with you as I did in August. I do have a few ideas for quality posts up my sleeve that will make an appearance once I have enough time and internet to write and upload another post. And Matt and I are taking a 43-hour train ride to Tibet next week, so there will definitely be a post after that.
But for now, you'll have to settle for a good old China story. I haven't told one of these since my colleagues slurped bone marrow out of straws at a business dinner. Today's story is slightly different, but no less absurd. It's also short.
Part I of the story is that a Chinese girl I work with has a food allergy. She is allergic to male chickens. Not hens. Just the roosters. I'm no doctor, so I probably shouldn't question this, but I do. Can one really be allergic to just male chicken meat? Is it so different from female chicken meat that it would cause her to break out into pretty severe hives? The hives are real. Those I can confirm. The cause... Well let's just say I'm not convinced.
I've been aware of Cindy's allergy since she started working at our company, and while I've thought that it's a little odd, I haven't given it much thought. But today, when she brought some Chinese medicine back to our apartment to "cure" her "allergy," I had to laugh. I'm about as culturally sensitive as they come, but even to me, this was funny.
My apartment smells like a strange mix of dried herbs and something that I'm trying to convince myself is not the dissolving exoskeletons of ten fat cicadas. And to be fair, even Cindy was freaked out. Last time, apparently, there were no bugs. She called her father, who sent her the very expensive medicine, to confirm that the bugs are in fact supposed to be there. They are. I offered her a Benadryl, but she politely declined. To each her own. The bottom line is that I will go to bed satisfied that I don't have to drink it, and she will go to bed satisfied that she will be allergy-free in the morning. Everybody wins.