I Grew My Boobs in China (13 page)

“Yes, I’m very aware of that,” he said, frowning at the juicy red dish.

“But of course,” I quipped as I dug into the delightful dish, “this comes from the guy who will happily eat ants!” As one of his many scare tactics before we’d left home, he’d enlightened us with tales of his noodle soup experiences in Southeast Asia. Having anticipated the worst and concluding that the whole of Asia would most likely be suffering an ant infestation by the time I arrived, I’d had frequent nightmares where noodles came to life like in Donald Duck’s stolen picnic cartoon. I’d envisioned my entire bowl walking off the table with an army of ants scurrying beneath it.

“Oh, you can learn to just eat around them,” Mom had said, trying to soothe the innocuous sibling rivalry.
Not me, boy.
I’d rather starve!

“But by the end,” he’d grinned as he finished his horror story, “you start to overlook them completely and treat them like little flakes of pepper.”

“Oh, no. I most certainly will not!” I’d told him, foreseeing absolutely no possibility whatsoever of ever failing to notice that my “seasoning” was little walking bugs.

Aunt Plastic’s warning, “… rather have my arms and legs slowly severed …” echoed in my ears.

Tomatoes, for my taste, were much more appetizing, though in this dull lighting, ants
could
conceivably be overlooked. Glancing subtly under the food I’d lifted with my fork, I checked one last time before putting the next bite in my mouth.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The blur began once more as we stepped out from the dark restaurant into the light and bicycled to the enchanted Moon Water Cave. We had been told about the restorative mud bath hidden deep within the cave that extended three kilometres beneath three mountains. I reluctantly looked over at Bree, whose eyes lit up in anticipation of the opportunity to get dirty. I knew what I was in for.

“C’mon, Savannah. You have to go!” she said.

“I don’t have a suit,” I insisted.

“But he said you can get them just over there in that hut.”

“Used suits? Gross! Seriously, no!”

“Well, I’m going,” she said, making her way towards the thatch hut to choose her rental suit. I chased after her to try to change her mind, but her will overpowered mine once again.

“It’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity,” she said as she sorted through the bucket weaved from blue plastic that contained mismatched, partially disfigured bikinis. “Where are you
ever
gonna find an underground mud bath again!?” she argued, using her wide, expressive eyes to convince me before adding triumphantly, “Only in CHINA, that’s where!” Always the braver, fiercer sister, she took charge and I once again crumbled under the force of her conviction.

“You girls are going to be all gross and dirty. Think about the bike ride back. You’ll be all muddy and wet,” Mom scowled and tried to save at least one of us, but Bree would have none of it. Mom didn’t need to voice the rest of the worries that were already crowding my brain, but as much as I didn’t want to be cold and wet in a swimsuit that had been worn by who knows how many people, I was even more afraid of being left out of something spectacular. I could probably live with the regret of not going, but I knew I could not deal with Bree having the best time of her life without me.

“Okay, I’ll at least get a suit on so I can decide later,” I said, swiping one from the bucket.

“Wicked!” Bree said. She already knew my submission on that point meant I was in the process of convincing myself, though I still denied it.

We floated into the darkness of the cave in a little wooden rowboat. The low, flowing river was too narrow for oars, so we relied on muscle power to pull ourselves through the entrance using a thick, wet rope attached to a rock somewhere in the cave’s inner shadows.

“Here’s an interesting fact, guys. The local villagers from around here used this cave to hide out from the invading Japanese army in World War II,” Ammon gravely informed us.

“See? Now I just think that is so great!” Mom said, her eyes taking in every inch of the experience. “I love learning new things.”

With no more light than what was provided by a dimly lit path and the headlamps on our hardhats, we approached the innards of the underworld. Despite having plummeted into the depths of Mammoth Cave in Kentucky, recognized as the longest, most thoroughly mapped cave system discovered in the world, the Carlsbad Caverns in New Mexico, and many other cave systems, I was nonetheless impressed. From the look on Mom’s face, I’d say she was, too.

“Wow, this is great. I just love caves!” Mom said, for probably the tenth time since we’d heard we were going there. We found only minimal modifications within the cave with only some simple garden lights attached to very, very long extension cords along already existing pathways.

“This is really great. You can just wander around and go anywhere you want. There are no fenced-off parts or cement walkways. It feels so natural! North America has so many safety regulations that prevent you from doing anything,” Mom said, typically disagreeing with such patronizing precautions.

“That’s just because they are so paranoid about being sued. I almost don’t blame them. If you can be sued for making hot coffee too hot, then they pretty much have to treat you like a disabled child so they can’t be held liable for anything,” Ammon commented.

“Yah, it’s a shame, though, because a lot of the time it ruins the natural beauty of it. But,” Mom added, “I am grateful for these helmets, ’cause I’ve been bumping my head everywhere.” With the help of rope ladders we climbed like Gollum up rocky, slippery slopes and crossed over wooden bridges within the caves. Some of the stalagmites rang with music and hummed with the vibration of even a gentle smack. Stalactites hung overhead, dripping with upside-down bats hanging in every crevice. Every now and again, one would release its death-like grip and drop from its perch. The sound of its flicking wings echoed down jagged corridors until the bat nestled itself back into a cozy spot, disappearing completely. 

We discovered our main attraction, the large pool of oozing, brown mud, after a long trek that involved following the underground river, crawling through puddles, and squeezing between bizarre and curious shapes.

“I can’t believe you’re going to swim in that. How disgusting!” was Ammon’s first comment, “Cowabunga!!!” was Bree’s, and Mom offered a persuasive remark or two as she attempted to convince us to reconsider.

After Bree’s shallow but graceful dive, I kind of duck-flopped in behind her. On the far rock wall, we climbed to the top of a natural slide where we could once again slip back into the dark pit. It was completely relaxing. I floated weightlessly in what felt like smooth, chocolate icing, swimming as if in an underworld cloud, swiping my hands through the mud beneath my bare belly and feeling the whooshing movement on my tingling skin. Although I knew my friends back home would be having the traditional massages, facials, and saunas along with their mud baths, I was sure this was far more enjoyable.
I wouldn’t give up this experience for anything. Oh, if only Terri could have--- I’m going to bring her here one day,
I decided, turning a sad thought into something more positive.
She will love this!

Although we’d been to bigger and “better” caves in the United States on family road trips, it somehow didn’t compare to the experience that day. It was very personal and hands on. I almost felt as though I was a little kid again, making up stories to match these adventures. I was an explorer. Every corner and every rock was something newly discovered, and I’d made my first imprint. I wandered aimlessly for what seemed like hours, sneaking around with the monsters on my tail, jumping and hiding in small tunnels. Aside from our guide, we had the place to ourselves. I imagined the lives of the local people during World War II when they’d come to hide from the invading Japanese. Not much would have changed since that time. I crouched down and crept slyly, checking my back as if it were me evading the enemy. Covered from head to toe in dry reddish mud as I was, I blended into the earth and stones, becoming nearly invisible. I picked up a small, crumbly stone and wondered who else had passed by here in this fashion.
Whose stories could that rock share? How long would they have gone without food, hiding like serpents in the dark? Days? Weeks? Who had they lost along the way?
Given that the cave had only opened up to tourism ten years before, I felt even more like an explorer. I wondered how long it had existed with only the chirping echoes of bats and critters for company.
Did the Japanese ever find it?
These thoughts continued until my mind hurt from the novelty of considering historical issues. History was always my least favourite class in school. The dry textbooks full of dates just never caught my attention, and I had never before really considered war from a personal perspective. Yet here, I found myself totally captivated by the little bits of information I’d just learned about World War II.

Making our way further along, we rinsed our new layer of red-chocolate skin in the unusually warm waters of the underground river we’d been following. Bree and I wallowed in it as we dunked, swam, and scrubbed each other’s backs. Crawling on hands and knees upstream, I watched the reddish cloud wash downstream, looking for all the world like blood.

Traces of crusty mud remained around our jaw lines and in behind our ears to remind us of our adventure. We climbed for a long time towards the top of the cave where we could see a gaping opening into an endless blue sky. We bathed in the clearest, purest light which streamed in on particles of dust as we re-emerged from the wet belly of the earth.

Chapter 14

Whet Your Appetite

Small, smothered fires choked desperately beneath brewing stews and meats. My outstretched fingers slid through the ashy smoke as I reached forward to try to clear a visual path. The long and seemingly endless day of activities was wrapping up. All we needed now was FOOD, so we’d gone off to the local market.

It presented a flurry of hanging lights under awnings strung up with ropes and sticks, and we felt like we had been transported back to some ancient, mythical era. That illusion was heightened by the reactions of the locals, who stared at the sight of our unusual, foreign appearance and attire.

The frequent, sudden squawks coming from baskets of fighting, pecking chickens at my ankles made me jump. Their flapping wings protruded awkwardly from their cages and stirred up dust and feathers as we passed by. Women seemed to shout from all directions. Bucket after bucket, stained and dented in various places, lined the narrow alleys. Cages upon cages stuffed with big eyed creatures were stacked high and threatened to collapse at any moment. Snakes coiled together in rusted cages. Turtles grown to be sold and made into delicious soups struggled in only inches of water. Long lobster legs wiggled like spiders as they pinched each other in a desperate dance. Fish panicked in shallow tubs, only half covered by the minimal amount of water; one would occasionally spring out and bounce around on its side making a mud puddle under the wood stalls before a nearby granny would get up from her three-legged stool to toss the escapee back into the rubber tub with the rest.
This is no pet shop
, I reminded myself as I looked helplessly at the twitching noses of white bunnies;
this is the grocery store.

The whacked-out reality of it jangled my nerves. I followed the yearning, upwards stare of a caged dove. There must have been stars out that night, beautiful sparkly stars, but it was hard to see the night sky through the haze of the burning fires’ dense smoke. I watched as a woman examined a sack of four big frogs, put it back down, and then picked up the next one, comparing their relative size. Their springy feet hung awkwardly through the open spaces in the woven orange sacks. I almost expected her to squeeze their bellies to test for ripeness. In the midst of the startling sights around me, I flashed back to the childhood story of Hansel and Gretel, which came to life as the woman progressively pinched their dangling green legs to decide which were the meatiest.

Catching myself in the middle of a long, drawn-out stare, I surprised myself as much as anyone by saying, “I’m starved. Seriously, these frogs are starting to look good.”

“And what better way to dress a home-cooked meal than with some rich, pungent spices,” Ammon said jokingly as we entered the next section of the market. Sour, sweet, bitter, and salty flavours blurred into one overwhelming waft.

“Careful what you wish for,” Mom cautioned wisely.

Merchants, mainly women, sat cross-legged on tarps or on short stools in front of three-foot, burlap sacks. The thick smell of various spices soaked into my moist skin. Big, overflowing bags presented an assortment of dried animal parts and herbs. Threads of crimson saffron were dried and sold by the scoop. Shrivelled mushrooms, sea horses, and other exotic bits and pieces were weighed and wrapped. Even in death, long, tangled tentacles appeared to reach out towards an unknowing sky. The merchants reminded me of Shakespeare’s witches, and I chanted quietly to myself the classic phrase, “Eye of newt, leg of frog.” Add to that one barb of salty sea urchin and these innocent little Chinese women could be Macbeth’s witches.

Heading back empty-handed in the direction of our accommodations, we ran into Larry, the hotel’s guest recruiter. As nothing in the marketplace had seemed even remotely edible, we were driven by desperation and hunger. We needed to eat, NOW!

“So Larry, could you recommend a good place for dinner?” Ammon asked coolly, as if he were merely in search of a snack. I twitched in my place.
My approach to the situation would have been,
Gosh dang it! Where’s the food at! Give it to me. Now!

“Ah, yes, yes. I know good place. Come with me,” he said brightly, anxious to show off his town and culture, and off we went through yet more alleys and puddles. Darkness had long since fallen, and we’d been awake for days if you count the restless journey on the overnight bus. We were led up the back stairs of a relatively dank, two-story building where we found ourselves in a secluded room with grey walls. A large round table in the room was covered with a white tarp. Larry spoke quickly and efficiently in Mandarin as we wondered what we would be eating.