Now that life is starting to settle down here in Virginia, I’ve focused more on getting in shape. Once upon a time, I thought rather foolishly that I could go on the “Korean” diet and miraculously lose weight. What’s the “Korean”diet? Well, I’m not quite sure–I never figured it out. It’s essentially the contention that most Koreans are in decent shape, despite the fact that Korean food–at least what you buy in the restaurant–is rather fattening, and not a few Koreans smoke, drink, and work too much (read: sit most of the day at a desk). I assumed that if I acted Korean, at least in terms of consumption and activity, I too would lose weight. Au contraire (that’s French, not Korean). I gained weight. Someone let me know that Korean physiology lends itself to thinness, and I am of stout Anglo-Scandinavian stock that gravitates towards rotundity and portliness.
So the “Korean” diet didn’t work. Now that we are headed to Paraguay, I decided to go on the “Paraguay” diet. So, what’s that? Well, it doesn’t have anything to do with the cuisine. As I understand it, Paraguayan cuisine is rife with red meat (read: beef) and starch (something called “sopa,” a potato-ish vegetable). The “Paraguay” diet has more to do with having a significantly heightened level of physical activity. The January edition of the Foreign Service Journal rated Asunción, Paraguay one of the worst Foreign Service posts because it is so “boring.” (That is obviously an unscientific observation by someone who either doesn’t get out enough or needs to find some new hobbies.) Frankly, boring is fine with me. Boredom is preferable to bullets, blackouts, blizzards, and excessive beasties found at some posts worldwide. It lets me focus on the “Paraguay” diet; that is, fill the down time with physical activity that necessitates the slendering of my body.
Whereas the “Korean” diet focused on what I eat, the “Paraguay” diet focuses on what I do. I’ve never found that dieting helps me lose weight, unless I completely cut out eating sugary foods. My body responds much better to physical activity and beating it into submission by working out until I am sore (like today, when I rode my repaired bicycle back and forth from home to work.
I’ve already started the “Paraguay” diet by doing sit ups, cycling, and walking as much as possible. I bought a pedometer to measure my caloric burn rate, but so far, it’s been disappointing. It’s disheartening killing yourself to burn 300 calories. I’m hoping that by the time I arrive in Paraguay I will be so far along on my regimen that it will be easy to continue; bad streets, cobblestones, tropical weather, and petty theft be damned!
Dear Reader, why is it that every time I dine at a restaurant in China, I invariably find myself staring at some fish with its head still intact? The fish could be battered, fried, basted, baked, broiled, sautéed, deboned, or carved into intricate designs, but the head is always there, staring at me like a poor animal frozen in place, gazing at me as if it is in its final throes of death with its mouth open in anguished horror as whatever blunt instrument bludgeoned it struck in, or as it grasped for its one final gulp of oxygen-filled water before its gills hit the air on the cutting board. It is decorative to leave the poor fish’s head and tail intact while turning its gutted innards into some eye-pleasing creation. I know it’s not much more humane to remove the fish head, but as an American I psychologically prefer not to have my food staring back at me while I eat it. It reminds me of a time when I dined with family in China. I picked up some chicken from a bowl of chicken in some sauce I don’t remember, and I stared right into the closed eyes of a chicken head stuck between my chopsticks. I gave the piece away. Eating the head of an animal just isn’t appealing to me.
I have a game I call “count the number of fish heads on the table.” Each time I dine at an “authentic” Chinese restaurant (fast food Chinese restaurants in the states do not count), I like to count how many fish dishes come with their heads intact. The “authentic” quotient of the restaurant goes up with each head I count. So far all the restaurants I’ve been to on this trip have had one or fewer fish heads. Perhaps the best meal I’ve eaten was in Xi’an, when we ate at a Shaanxi restaurant. Shaanxi cuisine is heavily influenced by the large Muslim population living in the area. We feasted on roasted lamb and lamb dumpling stew with noodle. As a fan of Middle Eastern cuisine, I have a new-found love for western Chinese cuisine. Thankfully, none of it is served with a head intact.
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