Red Meat Head, not an angry frat brother

When you live/travel in foreign countries you quickly figure out what we refer to as "Han'lin Bidness." Some of this "bidness" you have to accomplish faster and with more frequency than others. Getting directions, finding lodging, buying little tiny scissors for trimming a moustache, eating, etc; these things get easier the more you do em. With scissors, barring domestic or international air travel, once done, you don't really have to worry about it unless you lose em. With eating, however, for the healthy travelling human male, (yes, we are) three times a day is the reccomended dosage. Flapping your arms like a chicken, snorting like a pig and moo-ing like a cow become de rigeur for ordering food. Its quite a site. Another old stand by is the "i'll have what they're having" point and shoot. This is generally accomplished by a quick glance neighborwards to check edibility and a point followed by a couple of fingers to indicate how many.
This last method was put to use last night, as Don and I stepped into a rather upscale little spot 'round the corner from Sim's Cozy Guesthouse, Chengdu, where we layed our belongings. After picking out a couple of vegetables, we looked to our neighbors, who had donned plastic gloves, and were digging into a metal bowl full of what appeared to be, meat. Now, we're a couple of hearty adventureres, ready to handle just about any task or challenge. So, may i present the following dialogue:

"What's that?" Don said, pointing to the bowl.
"Red Meat head" said the waitress.
With a brief look for agreement, we say, "Yeah, and some of that"
"How many?" the budding english speaker asks.
Hmmm. "Well, two i guess" we reply.

After a brief pause where we forget the magnitude of our order while the veggies arrive, our waitress returns with our plastic cafeteria gloves and our metal bowl, containing:

"dude."
"is that.."
"is it a bird.."
"look at those teeth"
"uh"
"Red meat head?"
"Yes," replied our waitress, "Rat Meat Head. From Chengdu."
Well, local origins aside, what looked up at us from the shiny metal confines of its spice laden bowl were two fist sized heads of what was very definitly until quite recently, rat.

"I'm gonna go wash my hands." I said.

Further inquiry, done post order, led to the conclusion that this was the "delicacy" restaurant. Other diners cracked snails, or broke apart duck bills for the toungues (which contain a bone, we were soon to find out) or ate the heads of various mammals and rodents.

Being the tough tummied travellers that we are, we took a couple of deep breaths and slid into our plastic gloves.



We cleaned those boys down to the jawbones. Eyes, brains, lymph nodes, tounges and palattes, we left skull and bones. The particular spice combination leaves the lips numb, and to eat it, one needs to keep one's own brain numb to the certain reality of what exactly it is that one is eating.
Looking for a little "real" meat to round out the meal, we made for an order of duck. When the second shiny metal bowl and set of gloves arrived, we were pros. Filled with steaming duck bills, we again donned our plastic and dug in. Break apart the bill, eat the toungue, move on to the next one.

Needless to say, in the game of "when i was in (insert foreign locale), I ate (something gross)," we win.