Our fourth day of vacation began like most of the others – a quick trip to Pacific Coffee for espresso and check our email. My brother, Wyatt, was set to arrive at our hotel at 11 a.m. to help us through the bureaucracy while we crossed the border into the People’s Republic of China (PRC).
We waited.
At about 11:25 -- a knock at the door. I opened it, and Wyatt flew into our hotel room. (Those of you who know Wyatt can picture it.) “It took a little longer to get to Hong Kong than I expected. I want to get a cab to Admiralty [subway] Station, while you get checked out. We’d better go!”
The trip to Shenzhen was a flurry of taxi, subway, transfer to second subway, and the half-hour train ride to the border. Shenzhen is just within the PRC, at the border of Hong Kong. Thirty years ago Shenzhen barely existed, now it’s a city of 8 to 9 million residents. Its phenomenal growth was the result of Hong Kong’s imminent transfer back to China in 1997. It’s a new city, devoid of old architecture, but with many trees and parks.
When we arrived at the Hong Kong/PRC border we had to go through Hong Kong’s immigration, then the PRC’s immigration, then the PRC’s Customs. It took a lot less time than one would think. We hopped into another taxi, and had a wild ride to Wyatt’s apartment, took the elevator to the 26th floor and dropped our luggage. Wyatt had to be to work in 15 minutes, but fortunately, he only has a 10 minute walk to work. He said, “You probably want lunch, and there’s nothing in the apartment.” He threw some Chinese dollars in our direction and pointed out a building just down the block, “The restaurant over there has pictures on its menu. Maybe you want to go there to grab some lunch.”
As we walked up the stairs to the restaurant on the second story, the young employees said, “Good morning.” (That seemed to be the general greeting in Shenzhen no matter what time of day.) The place was empty. We were given a table.
The first thing I learned about China is that more often than not, the wait staff at a restaurant will stand at the table as the decision of what to eat is made. Perhaps it was because we were obviously not Chinese and might have questions about the menu. The young waiter tried to get us to order a certain thing – I think he was trying to tell us it was chicken. But we picked another thing, from the pictures on the menu, which, of course, was in Chinese.
What we ordered finally arrived. This is what I sent to in an email to family and some friends about an hour later:
We arrived at Wyatt's place just in time for him to leave for work, so Larry and I went to a restaurant by ourselves. The menu had pictures of the dishes they served, so that's how we decided what to order. We have no idea what we ate, but the veggie dish was wonderful. The other dish might have been oxtail, but we really don't know. I took one of the meat pieces home to ask Wyatt if he can identify it. I think the piece is part of a whole critter, myself -- not a part of an ox tail. I only ate a half a piece.
After the mystery meal we went back to Wyatt’s apartment to relax. After the past three days, we were ready for a day off. We had TV, internet and Wyatt’s black kitty, Carl, to keep us happy. When Wyatt got home from work at 7 p.m. we went to a Muslim restaurant. Wyatt took care of the ordering. We were grateful.
Before we went to the Muslim restaurant, we asked Wyatt about the piece of meat we brought home from our lunch. The moment Wyatt looked at it and responded, it occurred to me what it was.
It was a turtle foot.
