It’s 7 p.m. in Baisha, China, a tiny village of a couple hundred people, a handful of shops, a bunch of cobblestoned streets – and one nocturnal perambulating cow.
We know this because we had a bovine encounter of the extreme kind on the way back from acquiring the night’s repast in the village square. This meal – owing to the fact that the town was sealed up tighter than Boston City Hall on Patriots’ Day – consisted of the following:
- Two cardboard vessels of chicken-flavored ramen noodles, which came with three packets of “flavor enhancers”. One presumably was some freeze dried herbs. Another, some other freeze dried herbs. And the third, a packet of coagulated fat, which reluctantly dissolved in hot water and left an oil slick reminiscent of the Exxon Valdez.
- Two packets of potato chips. One came the likenesses of seaweed and some gnarly vegeta
Knew you’d be watching the Red Sox with us; hadn’t imagined the cow. You need to come back to Beantown for some decent Chinese food. xxoo
Gabi kind of looks cold there, do you have heating in that hotel?