Cathy’s Clown

(Everly brothers, 1960)

I got a problem.  Generally, I’m a very private person and don’t like to discuss (or have other people discuss) my medical issues.  But this problem is germane to my China travels.  About 1.5-2 years ago I suddenly came down with very swollen lips, making me look like a clown.  They were very painful and lasted about 3 weeks.  I went to my primary physician, but he had no ideas except to send me to a dermatologist.

I went, but he had no ideas except to send me to an allergist.  I finally found one and she said I had what is known as a contact allergy to something.  This “something” interacts directly with the cells of my lips (i.e., not through the blood), killing those cells, and the underlying skin becomes very sensitive.  She said the reaction usually takes a couple days to appear and thus it’s often difficult to identify the offending substance.

Over the subsequent year I was able to determine, with a fair degree of certainty, that my lips are allergic to chili peppers and anything containing them.  For a long time, I’ve been successful at avoiding these little devils, love them though I do.  A little over 3 weeks ago I fell off the wagon and “accidentally” ate a bunch of chips and salsa.  Sure enough, a few days later I started to feel the effects, and soon my clown lips were back.

This is nothing to laugh at, if indeed laughing were possible without extreme pain.  My lips swell, bleed, peel, etc., and they are very sensitive and painful.  This stupidity on my part couldn’t have come at a worse time:  I was just beginning a tour of 5 Chinese cities where I had to give 2 presentations in each location and also had several small meetings in each city.

I considered explaining my lips to my hosts but decided not to.  Let them wonder.  One guy asked me directly if my lips were OK and I just shrugged and changed topics.

One night in a hotel room the pain was so annoying that I put a small, cold, wet towel over my mouth.

The blue bandana is to cover my eyes so I could blind myself to the pain.

As I said, during this 2-3-week period, my lips are very sensitive to touch, heat, salt, and just about everything.  Even brushing my teeth was painful, as well as rinsing my mouth out with cold water.

During this trip through China, I tried to be very careful.  I WAS very careful, but at times it seemed the deck was stacked against, committed to punishing me for my many sins of the past (distant past, of course).

In Nanjing I was with a good friend all the time.  My first night there he took me to Nanjing’s “Confucius Temple,” which is not analogous to the one in Beijing.  In Nanjing it is a large, multi-block area that is ancient and mostly limited to pedestrians.

My friend (let’s call him Joe) is very knowledgeable about Chinese history and culture, having been a teacher of same.  (That sentence reminds me of Charlie Chan.)  He showed me this building…

…and asked me to guess what it was.  I tried but failed.  It’s a watchtower for when, in ancient times, people took the national test.  There would be a watcher in each of the 4 corners to keep an eye out for cheaters.  This was serious business because if a student was caught cheating, both he and his teacher would be put to death.

We came upon this scene where actors were about to put on a play.

There is a nice canal running through this area,…

…and on the bridge over the canal young women are wont to take selfies.

There are tourist barges that people can take (see their yellow roofs),…

…but the line was too long, and we were more interested in eating.  (Big surprise.)

I reminded Joe that I could not eat anything spicy.  He took me to one of his favorite holes in the wall.

Is she holding her nose because of the food?

Not only did most of the food look really spicy, but the few things without that deep red color were dumplings, and I’ve been trying to avoid carbs.  Do you have any idea how hard it is to avoid spicy food AND carbs in China?

Fortunately, this tiny place had another area where their specialty was being served.

The only male employee was making their special duck soup in a big caldron.

Joe asked me if that was OK and I quickly said yes, that would be fine.  Too quickly, as it turned out.  What came was a very mild broth with cubes of duck blood and tofu.

I wouldn’t dream of offending Joe, so I ate everything.  As with many things in Chinese restaurants, it’s not the taste that is shocking; it’s the psychology.  As long as I didn’t think about blood, the chunks tasted like very mild pieces of liver.  I’ll refrain from telling you what they tasted like when I thought about blood.

Fortunately, Joe also ordered some tofu skin that was covered with something that tasted like a dilute hoisin sauce.

I enjoyed eating this, as tofu skin is one of my favorites.  Unfortunately, my wounded right hand (that’s another story) made it difficult to use chopsticks, and I had trouble picking up the pieces.

As we left that place, Joe asked me if I was still hungry.  I said no, but my face must have said something different.  A few paces farther we came upon another of his favorite dining spots.

This place, he said, was famous for its bean soup (though he called it something different).

It was syrupy and one of those ladles must have held 6,000 calories.  So, we ate only half a ladle each.  The lady server initially was quite shy, but I was persistent and eventually got her picture.

After our bean-soup “dessert,” we walked around a little, passing this plate of roasted chestnuts (I think).

There were a lot of little touristy knick-knack stores, selling nothing you’d want – except this charming little shop of tea pots, some of which are very expensive, depending mostly on their composition.

Nanjing is a nice city; more on it next time.