Meat butchered, ends in a ‘balls up’

Meatballs and spag.jpgThe results of tonight’s cooking lay before me. Italian themed pasta dishes with ubiquitous meatballs. The meat itself has a story behind them. This was pork mince a’la Canton butcher in the marketplace. ‘That chuck of meat, minced’ my wife said to the butcher. And so doth the man did mince. Two chopping knives, blades as big as his hands. Meat was flying as he cut, and what meat fell off the board, was dutifully washed under a running tap. I had to turn my head to that but the guy was trying hard to make a profit. Pork, minced, it was finally scooped up on the side of one of the knives and plopped into a plastic bag. Why wash the meat under a tap? Well, according to the locals and my own observations, the old ladies of the district, “Ai-ye’s”, select their cuts of meat by fondling each and every piece of meat that they want to purchase. Maybe even the ones they don’t. The result is that the meat has more harmful bacteria per centimeter squared than the public toilet seats. Those familiar with South Korea, these women would be labelled ‘ajumma’. These women of Guangzhou are of that age, but without the age system that exists in Korea, they are seen as ‘older, married women’ though, without the pushy attitude of the Korean ajumma.

The meal.jpg

The results of the night’s cooking?┬áThe wife thought the meatballs okay, while I thought they could have been more crisp. Need to try harder.

 

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A bus ticket? Incomprehensible!

Korea has a well developed transportation infrastructure, with bus companies doing very well. The observed phenomena is that Saturday afternoons, the Koreans surge out of Seoul in great hoardes that almost rival the ones that Gheghis Khan got together. Traffic out of the Southern Seoul expressway is almost at a standstill. Come Sunday evening the tide changes course and those that went out, return.

I was incredulous, and then surprised to see how people just can’t read a bus ticket correctly. The elderly and even men in suits got it wrong. What’s so difficult about reading and abiding by the seat number allocated to you on the ticket? I think it’s a bit more than laziness in action. The old man sat in seat 20 (my seat!) realised with some surprise that he was sat in the wrong seat. I’d sat down next to him (cricket practise was exhausting but productive) when he realised he was in the wrong seat. It was actually seat 3. I pointed forward, to the front of the bus. The old boy, looked left and right in apparent confusion. Two ajummas were sat in the row that had seat 3. Evidently 2 ajummas trumps one old boy. He sat down, perhaps with some relief.

From just stupid to just plain smelly. My new seating companion had a certain odour about him. Maybe he’d been rolling around in newly ploughed fields someplace because this guy had the passing smell of manure. Or maybe he’s just had a wet-one escape from the stable doors. So many people returning to the countryside.

Competitor disqualified for brazen snoring

The Korean Olympic competitive sleeping team get in some practise before their Olympic qualifying rounds.