Chips of burning flesh

For Thanksgiving, the English teachers took us out for a traditional Chinese dinner to celebrate.  It was the first time they had ever celebrated Thanksgiving, which makes sense I suppose.  The Pilgrims didn’t land in China and get help from Mongolian farmers.  It was touching that they arranged this dinner especially for us – to make us feel just a bit more at home here.

We went to a restaurant literally right around the corner from out apartment in Yueyang that John and I had known existed.  It was a nice restaurant with a comfortable atmosphere.  The menu even had English translations – or perhaps I should say mistranslations.  Things like “son bacon”.  I mean, really?  “Son bacon” as opposed to what?  Daughter bacon?  But the best one was “chips of burning flesh”.  When I say that, I decided I didn’t care what it was, there was no way that I was eating it.  But it turned out to be boiled, sliced potatoes and pork in broth.  No burning flesh at all.  The Chinese characters were the characters for potatoes and pork.  I don’t know exactly how is got mistranslated like that, but it did!  We actually did order it and try it.  Despite its revolting name, it was actually delicious!

The dinner was fun despite my apprehensions of awkwardness and strange food being shoved in my face.  They let me pass on trying chicken feet (supposedly eating them makes you rich – I’d rather be poor than eat them).  And I willingly tried the mutton.  While the dinner was  nothing even remotely resembling an American Thanksgiving dinner, it was still good.  And I’m thankful for all that God has given to me, especially here in China.


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