Hawkers

Sleepy Tereng­ganu was a small town that offered a lot less than we thought. Com­piled with the fact that it was an area of Malaysia still devoutly Mus­lim, there was not much for us to do on a bor­ing Sun­day afternoon.

Except of course, eat.

Hawker stalls are huge through­out South­east Asia (they don’t really exist in the same capac­ity here in China), per­haps no place more pop­u­lar than in Malaysia. Each Malay city seems to have its pock­ets of hawker stalls just as Los Ange­les has its strip malls, New York has its parks, and Chicago has its rooftop farms. Local fam­i­lies and tourists alike were seen din­ing at these hum­ble estab­lish­ments, although this one seemed to get a lit­tle less fan­fare than some of the other ones we visited.

After sit­ting down and get­ting our hands on some flimsy menus, this old man came and sat down with us. For about five min­utes, he didn’t say a word, and pro­ceeded to puff on a cig­a­rette that didn’t seem to get any shorter. Finally after deep dis­cus­sions over the trans­la­tion of sev­eral meny items, he finally piped up say­ing “ikan, FISH.

So that proved it, some­how he worked at one of the hawk­ers, maybe he was a reg­u­lar, who knows. He con­tin­ued to help us through the menu, though his “trans­la­tion” were prob­a­bly not any bet­ter to what we could have fig­ured out our­selves. A wel­comed guest at first, we all soon real­ized he did not speak more than five words of Eng­lish (rice, chicken, fish, soup, and yes).

Luck­ily break­ing down a Malaysia menu is sim­pler than in other parts of the world. Like most meals that were had on our trip, our options con­sisted largely of dif­fer­ent prepa­ra­tions of rice (Nasi) and noo­dles (Mee), var­i­ous selec­tions of friend chicken (ayam), or soups like Tom Yam. Nat­u­rally we kept our eyes peeled for goreng, mean­ing fried, as in fried rice and fried noodles.

And of course, we could not help but order a favorite dish of the trip: Nasi Goreng USA, or USA fried rice. Fried rice served with a fried egg on top and a side of soy sauced beef bacon and veg­eta­bles. The Diplo­Man got this for every other meal of his, I think.

Liu Gong– small town living

Where does an hour and a half down the Li River take us? Nowhere, really. But in the mid­dle of nowhere is a small town called Liu­Gong (留公).

In our explo­ration of the small vil­lage, we came across as fam­ily restau­rant on the top of a hill over­look­ing the river. Built on a cement slab with a stone roof that looked like a carpark, the aes­thetic was pretty sim­i­lar to the rest of the town. A small group of Chi­nese tourists and a cou­ple of Czech bik­ers were sit­ting around the fire pit in the mid­dle of the con­crete floor– so of course we were inclined to join.

As the river and cold had built up our appetites, we ordered a few plates of home­style fried rice. I’ve just fin­ished read­ing Jen Lin-Liu’s Serve the Peo­ple– a stir-fried jour­ney through China, and there are a few pas­sages that jumped out at me while read­ing. One is a bit of advice which was passed down to the author: “there is a dif­fer­ence between best restau­rants and favorite restau­rants”. In the states, I don’t think I had much of a dis­tinc­tion. I though Franny’s, or Prime Meats, and ok Blue Hill too, were simul­ta­ne­ously my favorite and the best restau­rants. But things dif­fer in China, where class dis­tinc­tions are so appar­ent, and there is such a huge jump between new and old. The best restau­rant in town might not be my most favorite, and vice versa.

Some­thing about this meal– eat­ing on fold-out mini chairs on a con­crete slab, among karsts ris­ing out of the fog, with and inter­na­tional cast of char­ac­ters snap­ping pic­tures left and right– I found to be so mem­o­rable and endear­ing. One of my favorite meals in China so far– even if it wasn’t really a full “meal”. I had ordered a tomato-beef fried rice, and each time my huge spoon hit the bot­tom of the shal­low cheap plas­tic plates, I scooped another spoon­ful of beefy tomato-y rice into my mouth with glee.

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