Wonton and Xi-fen

Sunday morning, I got up at 7 a.m. and went to check in on my dad. He was awake, having not being able to sleep, and I could tell that he was feeling really uncomfortable. I went out to buy dou jiang and xie ke huang for breakfast.

After eating breakfast, I went to the bathroom to do my business. And two minutes into my prime reading time, I hear these voices from outside calling my name. My dad calls to me and says they're here. I was irritated because it's 10 am and they just drop by unannounced, and not to mention I'm busy.

So I let them in and tell them that my dad didn't sleep last night. They're like, "Why didn't he sleep? How come you didn't sleep?" I was like, because he kept thinking about Medicare!

They were going to leave and come back later, but since my dad was also looking forward to my first aunt making wonton, I suggested they stay. My dad corrected me, wonton and bai cai xi-fen.

Making wontons in a small apartment with limited dishes and tabletop space is sooo inconvenient. We made do with what we had, but this involved washing every possible bowl or dish multiple times because you needed them for prep and for eating. I think we only had four small bowls and a few plates.

My second aunt went out to get some plastic disposable bowls and a gigantic package of take-out chopsticks. I think she's the queen of low-maintenance eating. She'd rather not deal with cleaning up or cooking.

My first aunt, on the other hand, was busy washing, chopping, cooking. I helped her in exchange for her teaching me how to make Liu-jia wonton. You could tell which ones I wrapped.

When we finally sat down to eat lunch, my dad was quite pleased. He said that within the family, he was the one who would make wonton, and he taught my first aunt. They said that my first aunt had it rough. As the eldest daughter, she would cook and clean, and when she wanted to get married, my grandfather wouldn't let her.

I asked her if nai-nai taught her how to cook. She said nai-nai didn't cook, so it was just something that they had to figure out growing up. I wondered what it would be like if your parents didn't cook, especially back in their time after the Communist Revolution. And then I remembered my dad telling me when we went to eat at Kao Chi, how he wouldn't do his homework and got his friends to help him pass his classes.

I asked him what he did with his time. He said, "Dream." I laughed and said, what did you dream about? He replied, "I dreamed about food because we were so poor, a lot of the time we were just hungry."

My dad ate quite a bit of the wonton and bai cai xi-fen, so we were all quite pleased. But we hardly made a dent in the food. There were three big plates full of uncooked wonton and a large bowl of the xi-fen left. I didn't know where we were going to put all of this stuff. After all, all we had in the apartment was a small mini-fridge. The freezer section is smaller than a toaster.

My aunts left after my dad went back to bed. To avoid what happened this morning, I asked them to call us before they come tomorrow.

My dad took a nap and I cleaned up a bit. But seeing all the leftovers, I had to figure out what to do with them. So I took the MRT to the Carrefour in Kunyang to pick up some plastic food containers and ziploc bags. I got lost getting there and had to get a cab to get there. I realized then that there was no way I was going to make it back to the MRT stop with groceries. So I asked around which bus would take me to Taipei 101 and took the 281 bus back.

Along the way home, I picked up a pork chop bento box for my dad, which he liked. After packing away all the leftovers, I went to sit with him. He kept asking me why my mom hadn't called yet. We tried several times to call the apartment in Shanghai, but no one picked up.

We looked all over for her cell phone number. I remembered I had it written down on a piece of paper in my passport wallet. At that point, I realized I couldn't find my passport! I tore apart the apartment several times looking for that thing, but no luck.

Finally, I had to wake up my girlfriend in Los Angeles to get my mom's cell phone number. I dialed the number and my mom picked up. I told her we've been trying to call her and asked where she was. She said she was on a tour!

I passed the phone to my dad, and he talked to her less than a minute when, all of a sudden, he started crying. I was shocked. He handed the phone back to me and my mom asked me what was wrong. I didn't know, and of course, she started asking, "What did you do? Did you get in an argument with him? Did you ..."

To change the topic, I asked my mom if she had my passport. When she told me no, I started to worry. She told me to check under the sofa bed. Then she told me to stop fighting with my dad.

When I got off the phone with her, I asked my dad what was wrong. He told me that he missed my mom!

Jeez, am I such bad company?

Well, it turns out my passport wallet was under the couch. I called my mom back and told her I found it. Then I told her that we missed her, and she replied, "Hu suo ba dao."

Go figure.