That evening, at Shanghai’s HongQiao Airport, we had the worst meal imaginable. It was a microwaved clay-pot rice. The rice was white when sauce is usually involved and its texture felt like it’s been sitting in the fridge for who knows how long, waiting for us. All the other other dishes were just re-heats as well, my mom still likes to tell this story to whoever listened, “the dish was hotter than the food.”
We were all expecting a meal on the plane so we didn’t exactly fill up. However, there was no meal, just a small drink. “Worst flight ever,” my mom complained the moment we landed in Guangzhou. She claimed she purchased premium seats (though the seats didn’t feel premium). I felt like I was on a plane from the iPhone 1 era. The touchscreen was super glitchy and didn’t do anything when I tapped it and the font on the screen reminded me of Windows 98.
However, I was managed to get about an hour of shut-eye before we landed in Guangzhou. It was around midnight when we landed and the temperature outside was still hovering in the low 90’s-Fahrenheit. Thankfully, I didn’t have to walk to the hotel but first, we must find the hotel shuttle.
The moment we received the keys to our room, I immediately hopped into the shower, peeling off my clothes like they were adhesive. Even underneath the rain shower, I still couldn’t wash off the stickiness from the humidity. Ugh, I can’t wait to get out of here.
After a few hours of sleep, the next morning, my mom, Cousin M, and I ordered a taxi back to Zhongshan. It was nearly 2 hours of doing nothing. I got caught up on some of the podcast episode I downloaded when I had access to the outside web.
Zhonshan felt changed from the moment I arrived, and by change, I meant from my last visit. When I visited in 2017 and 2018, I remember seeing a street full of little mom and pop shops selling the foods from my childhood. This time, the shops had me wondering whether I was in north China or the south. Instead of everyone speaking either Cantonese or the Zhongshan, people spoke Mandarin and when I spoke Cantonese to them, they couldn’t understand me. What was going on?
That first night, we stayed at a hotel with the most colorful lobby. It was decorated in nostalgic cartoon characters like Piglet from Winnie the Pooh and Tom and Jerry. All the cartoons from my childhood.
The next day, we moved to an apartment-style hotel nearby, shortly before a gathering between my mom’s classmates. I only recognized two of them. “On school break?” One of them asked, clearly judging me by how I look.
“No,” I answered, “on paid leave from work.”
The meal was wonderful but something about it failed to meet the nostalgia factor. I would later find out the restaurant was a fusion-foods restaurant, so it wasn’t authentically Zhonghan.
Two days later, the day before my birthday, while my mom spent the day in Shenzhen, I got to head out alone for breakfast. Mom recommended a small shop a kilometer from the hotel and I tried its rice noodle with an egg. I sweated so bad while eating despite sitting in front of the fan. Looking at watch, it was already 90-degrees at 8 AM. Ridiculous.
The rice noodle kinda hit the nostalgic note but not quite. To be honest, I don’t think anything can hit that note. China has changed as a whole. Old buildings get torn down everyday to make way for way for the new. Even historic buildings get the same treatment. This food no longer felt like the food I grew up eating. Instead, it felt like a polluted version of it, just like the food scene in the city has been taken over by northern China cuisine in the last decade.
After the rice noodle, I tried to walk leisurely back to the hotel (only run when I’m crossing the street) before stopping by the bakery near the hotel to grab an iced tea latte and… a croissant. The only croissant I’ve ever eaten has been from Costco and have always known it to be floppy and large. And I know this is China and trying a croissant should be the last food I should do but I couldn’t help it.
The croissant was so crispy and rich in buttery flavor. It made me never want to eat another Costco croissant!
The next day, my birthday, we met up with Cousin M and her mom for dimsum and tea before returning to the hotel for some rest. That night, after going out for clay-pot rice, we returned to cut the birthday cake I chose because I refuse to have anyone else choose this for me. The cake was full of mangoes, strawberries, and blueberries and was incredibly delicious.
The next day was the last day on this trip and the Mid-Autumn Festival. We took a taxi to the nursing home to visit my grandfather once more as well as to have a meal together.
The visit was extremely awkward. My mom rushed through the meal, piling food onto her dad’s plate like she was in a hurry to go somewhere. After the meal was over, she sat and watched the TV in the center of the room, there was no conversation to be had. I’m not much of a conversationalist either, even with family. It turned out she was just waiting for the moment to leave.
