Meet the Forkers

Yes, two weeks ago, just 5 months and six days after arriving here in Weihai, I purchased two pieces of *gasp* western cutlery--forks. Here is a lovely picture of both of them, side-by-side on my favorite (and also new) kitchen towel.

The situation surrounding the purchase was one, intimate dinner party. I was planning on serving Italian food, courtesy of a rather expensive trip to the downtown supermarket Da Ren Fa (think a lesser version of a Super Wal-Mart) where the shelves were once again stocked with cheese--a necessity in Italian cuisine. I also managed to scrounge up some Italian bread, olives, pine nuts, dried basil and tomato paste. (I had already purchased some FARFALLE which, as everyone knows is the superior pasta shape both in terms of appearance and feel on the palate, in an earlier trip.)

Thursday came (aka the eve of the party) when I suddenly realized that I had no "proper" Italian-able utensils!! A quick trip to LiQun (the smaller, closer, and much inferior market by Shandong University) thrust me into a bittersweet moment as I knew that, after purchasing said forks, I would have gut-wrenching urges to use the oh-so familiar objects. And so I have, much to my shame.

Eating with forks (or, rather with A fork) once again is like becoming re-acquainted with an old friend. Like, "Oh, hi, there you are. You haven't changed at all..." And suddenly, you are overwhelmed with those feelings that tell you how right this feels just because it is falling into something that was once so much a part of you, perhaps even ingrained into your making. Of course, you do not realize this indellible influence until it is completely striken from your life and, after some time, reintroduced. Your new life calls for adaptation which you readily undergo. You have shoved your association with such objects into the back of your mind (this act, of course, not consciously being done). Then, one day, five months and six days later, you are eating and you realize something feels different. Not new. Not un-familiar, but different. And, you look down and see a fork nestled into the pit between your thumb and your index finger. You'd almost forgotten how the cool metal feels in that nook. And life is good.

I must say, though, that I still reach for my chopsticks. Chopstickedness has its distinct advantages, beyond the pure novelty of it. For one, it extends your arm length by at least 5 inches, making grabbing for food quite easy. Two, the ends are not normally sharp so you don't have to worry about accidentally poking yourself if you err in your delivery. Three, the blunt ends allow for easy transportation, if you are so inclined to carry a personal set with you. In fact, I've had moments in which I wonder whether I will feel the need to carry a set with me if/when* I go to restaurants upon my return to the U.S. The list continues, but I'll let you ponder the rest.

I wonder what other areas of my life have fallen into this fork/chopstick category, things or actions that I have set aside for this year but that are still there, a part of me. How will these two lives--my past and now my present--intertwine in the future? Who's to say...

*I phrased this in this hypothetical manner because, after living here a year, I do not anticipate ever enjoying restaurant-going again. Here, you walk into a restaurant, the staff takes your order, they bring out your food pipping hot, you share the dish among your friends, tea is flowing, and the staff never speaks to you or encourages you to order more or to eat with more speed. It is pleasant. And, you get to sit on heated floors in many places. That's a perfect feeling in the middle of winter...