“Finally!” I think as I rub the sore pain in my my numbed butt from the fourteen hour flight where people passed gas carelessly. I instantly forget about the brutal journey as soon as I am greeted with the many familiar sounds, sights and scents. The hours of bland airplane food, horrible hollywood movies and cramped seats were worth it. I get this funny feeling everytime I return to the city where I was born, I don’t feel like I am coming home but neither do I have the jittery feeling of visiting a foreign city.

Hong Kong isn’t home to me because I look and dress so differently from the local girls there. I speak with a slight accent and

don’t know any of the trendy terms. I still marvel at traditional Chinese shops and find the city too claustrophobic.

Hong Kong isn’t foreign to me because I am always reminded of how loud and loving my grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins are. The musty smells of the laundry and the fragrant smell from the food always brings back dear memories of my childhood.

It’s hard to see myself living in Hong Kong again but I am always so tempted to whenever I compare Hong Kong’s vibrant city life to Mississauga’s dull suburban life. Oh, but who am I kidding, how can I possibly leave Canada after I have been spoiled rotten by its health care, benefits and clean air.

The musty smells of the laundry and the fragrant smell from the food always brings back dear memories of my childhood.

Dim Sum is a staple for us Hong Kongers and over the years I have seen a transition from the traditional pushed carts to an order sheet. Although the latter is more convenient and I don’t have to wait around for my favourite dishes to be pushed out but the carts make the dining experience authentic. The carts hold an aura of mystery because I never know what is in them until I strain my ear to hear the lady announce the contents inside the bamboo steamers.

Dimsum at Leen Heung is as authentic as they come and all it is really missing are men holding bird cages. As soon as I stepped through the door of the restaurant, I felt like I have traveled back to the sixties. Luckily, Wendy had gotten there early enough to get us our own small table so we wouldn’t have to share one with strangers. We sit down on vintage looking stools and wave a waiter over to ask him for tea. Unlike the usual Dimsum where we had

one pot of tea that we all shared, at Leen Heung, everyone got their own separate tea. The waiter took a large tea cup, filled it with tea leaves, poured hot water into it, rinsed it out and poured hot water in it again. A lid is placed on top while the tea steeped and trying to pour it in to my little teacup proved to be a challenge! It was safe to say there wasn’t a dry spot on the table. We wanted to order everything that came in the bamboo steamers. Har gow, siu mais and cheung funs filled the table until there wasn’t room to put another dish.

It was quite the experience to be able to imagine how my grandparents had Dimsum back in the day, with spilt tea, ceiling fans and metal carts pushed by sweet little ladies.

We wanted to order everything that came in the bamboo steamers.

My mother shelters me whenever she takes me back to Hong Kong treating me like a big foreigner. I am reverted back to being a 3 year old child where we fight about her forcing me to go to the bathroom because this one is nice and clean even though I just went two minutes ago! She governs what I can or cannot eat because she doesn’t want to deal with my upset stomach. As a result, I only ever see the pretty and modern side of Hong Kong and eat at clean restaurants. This time around was different because I was in Hong Kong with Deanna, who thankfully was not my mother.

Two nights before we left for Taipei, Wayne had local friends who took us to Da Lang. Da Lang is like a food court where vendors think good promotional material is slapping red words on florescent yellow signs and having 100 of them surround their stall. It’s where the concepts of food safety and hygiene is thrown out the door. We were seated at makeshift tables and on plastic seats where I promptly started washing all the utensils with the tea. Seated next to us were a group of middle aged men talking loudly and acting quite

l i ke a

drunk. They frequently cheers their friends with cups of beer and even had a beer girl in a blue polyester costume making sure no cups ran dry. It was a scene straight out of a movie. I can already imagine they were from a triad group and the mobster leader had just made a drug deal.

Satay beef, scrambled eggs with oyster, pork cold cuts, pan fried veggies appeared at our table. In this gritty market/food court place, where cooks have a cigarette in their mouth while they prepared your food and the owners acted with a little less grace, was where I had the best meal in Hong Kong.It was

a scene straight out of a movie.

DRIED HERBSDRIED HERBS

DEAD DUCKSDEAD DUCKS

No amount of Taiwanese dramas and travel shows would have prepared me for the scene of hundreds of motorpeds weaving in and out of traffic, dodging pedestrians and other fellow motorpeds as they zipped across the city. Deanna and I caught a glimpse of them when we were in the taxi leaving the airport after we landed. We glanced at each other and knew that we had to make it a goal to chat up some local boys and have them give us a ride around town.

Thankfully, we would not have to work our magic to charm some boys because Deanna’s cousins and uncle showed up the day after with their motorpeds! They strapped a helmet on me, stashed my bag in the storage under the seat and I clambered on behind DaDa. All the while, I could hear my mother’s voice screaming inside my head, I FORBID YOU FROM MOUNTING THIS DEATH MACHINE. I AM NOT PAYING FOR YOUR PLASTIC SURGERY! Ever the rebel, I happily wrapped my arms around DaDa as he revved the engine. Having never been on a motorcycle before, I squealed in surprise

at how fast I felt like we were moving, even though we were only going at 40km/h. I was especially taken back at how fast the wind lashed at me and I was terrified my fake eyelashes would fly right off! I must have been really nervous because DaDa kept asking me to loosen my grip because he soon couldn’t breath.

I felt totally immersed in the local life, which in my opinion is the best way to experience a city. I didn’t even want to blink because I was afraid I would miss something I kept turning my head from side to side knocking my helmet into DaDa’s as I watched the locals go about their day. Looking back, I do have the admit it was a very dangerous way of traveling but this definitely made my top ten list of best travel experience ever.

In the two weeks we were in Asia, I don’t think there was a day where we weren’t having six meals a day. Not full meals, but definitely enough food that kept us full all day long. It wasn’t because we were pigs but the food was so yummy that I kept the thought of keeping my figure at the back of my mind.

I would normally be wary of trying street food, but it was such an important part of the Taiwanese culture that I flung all my inhibitions aside and dived right in. It also helped that Deanna’s family friends could not stop feeding us street food! Before I even had a chance to know what they were, it was scooped into my mouth and I did not regret eating anything one bit.

I was really taken back by how delicious Taiwanese food was, even in comparison to Hong Kong. It also helped that all the food was so ridiculously cheap and familiar that I was not nervous to try anything. I don’t usually want to return to a city that I have already been to but I just might have to for the food!

Deanna and I share the same relationship with the delicacy of Stinky Tofu. Every summer, we would drive to Markham to Canada’s lame version of a night market for “authentic” stinky tofu. It truly was quite stinky, it clung onto the fibers of our clothes, in the strands of our hair and onto the leather of our car seats. We weren’t even quite sure what the lure was because after an hour of lining up, we each only wanted one piece of the tofu. That one mouthful of stinky tofu comprised of both yumminess and nausea.

Coming to Taiwan, we both knew we had to try authentic Taiwanese stinky tofu. We had our first taste in Danshui and with just one bite, I was entangled in a love affair. Every chance we got, we would smell for the specialty and gobble it up on the sidewalk.

One particular night, we were in Shilin Market when we asked some questionable masseuses where we could find some stinky deliciousness. We followed our noses and found the restaurant where we were promptly seated. I called for an order and it was delivered momentarily. We stared at it.

What was this? This was not fried mouldy tofu with preserved vegetables. This was a pot with a fire underneath it. After sniffing it, I concluded that it was indeed stinky tofu, just not in its fried form. The tofu, questionably dyed a deep red, sat in a stew and surrounded with vegetables. I ate a spoonful and wasn’t disappointed but whilst I was chewing, I couldn’t help but wonder why the tofu was this deep red colour? After a couple of mouthfuls, I started digging deeper into the pot thinking I would find other vegetables, when all of a sudden, my spoon hit white tofu. If this was tofu...what was this red jello stuff? Oh shit, i just ate pork blood. I looked at my dear friend, who couldn’t even stand the taste of pork, eat the pork blood. Two roads materialized in front of me, I either could take the secret to my grave and risked her finding out later and breaking off our friendship or I tell her now and risked her throwing up in the restaurant. I told Deanna to listen to me calmly as I uttered my suspicions of the mysterious deep red jello.

She responded with, “I already figured it out and I snuck my half bitten pork blood back into the pot.”

WHOMPWHOMPWHOMP

GOBBLEGOBBLEGOBBLE

CHOMPCHOMPCHOMP

G U A R D I A N S

oldabitofthe

Having gone to Hong Kong first, Deanna and I were under the assumption Taipei would look similar since it was the capital of Taiwan. So it took us by surprise when we saw that Taipei was not as modern as we had imagined. Apartments were a little run down, the streets were a little dirty and the cars weren’t as

shiny. But the city had character, whether it was the local shop where men weaved bamboo baskets, street vendors selling roasted nuts from a bicycle, ‘mom and pop’ shops and ceramic holes for toilets... Taipei felt down to earth, and not artificial; my only complaint is that there were no public garbage cans to be found anywhere!

ceramic holes for toilets...