I often think about the Chinese and how smart their inventions are. Take, for example, dim sum. In typical Emporer Qin Shi-Wang fashion, he who megolomaniacally commanded the construction of the Great Wall, in order to have it all, the Chinese created small plates cuisine, now so fashionable in Wicker Parks, Lower East Sides and West Hollywoods all over the world. Why not make room to have it all, by having a small taste of everything? It's the same with Spanish tapas. At a small tasca on a little winding street in Madrid built into the caverns under Plaza Mayor, you could have a taste of spain over the course of una jarra de sangria, or dos, or tres. Castile, Bergovia, Andalusia, Basque country, Pyrenees, Iberia -- it's like taking revenge on past Spanish colonialism through an Inquistion of its cuisine.
I once wrote about watching cartons from all over Asia twirling around the international terminal baggage carousel at O'Hare, and a week ago marvelled at the cosmopolitan of London based on an ad-hoc surveyance of the population with British accents at Heathrow. This morning, crammed into Gate 14 of Terminal Three for my (finally) flight back to Chicago, I found myself in the company of fellow passengers on codeshare flights with Oman Airlines and Gulf Air. There were hajis, head scarves, fake designer duds, Punjabi suits, gold chains, baggy jeans, saris, skull caps.
As I made my way to the very last row of the plane (43J, my own fault for dawdling over my full English breakfast buffet -- hard to say no to second servings of sauteed mushrooms and baked beans with rasher bacon and waffles), I tried not to dread the crazy customs process when we touched down eight hours later. After all, nice people finish last, right?
No comments:
Post a Comment