Short Story 6

It’s a zoo at the Chandni Chowk Market in Delhi. If I were claustrophobic, I would probably have high anxiety or a nervous breakdown right now. Too many moving pieces make it hard for me to process my surroundings. A cow just walked by me. Other cows are roaming as if they are pedestrians, while the locals act as if they belong to the community, similar to innocent stray dogs. I walk farther to the industrial side, where many goods are carried in creative ways by the locals. It’s hoarder central with no foreigners in sight. I go deeper into Old Delhi, off the beaten path, in this cluttered maze. Rather than feeling worried and anxious from being lost, I view it as an opportunity to try local street food. I don’t know what I’m eating, but if the food catches my eye, it will end up in my mouth. I find my way back by foot to where I’m staying about an hour later. I immediately head to the bathroom to puke and go diarrhea. I repeat the double whammy a few times before calling it a night. I guess being open-minded to carelessly eat street food that I never had back fired on me. Still, getting lost in the Chandni Chowk Market and Old Delhi was fun.

Good is an understatement for the Chinese food in Singapore. The hotel where I’m lodging is next to the Tiong Bahru Market, the bread and butter of a local Chinese community. From where I’m staying to the market is like walking across the street to a neighbor’s house. The second floor of the Tiong Bahru Market is foodie central. There’s about 25 street vendor-style food stalls in an outdoor/open-floor cafeteria. My airport driver even said I’ll experience traditional Singaporean food at Tiong Bahru and it won’t hurt my wallet. He was right. The food is delicious, cheap, and has me coming back for more. It appears I’ve been the only foreigner inside the Tiong Bahru Market the last three days. I don’t feel like an outsider. The Chinese community locals aren’t giving me these get-out-of-here looks or staring at me as if I’m a zoo animal. I did some sightseeing in Singapore’s major tourist hubs in certain upscale districts, but when it comes to eating, I save my appetite and think like a Chinese local by eating at Tiong Bahru. The daily dose of mini pancakes with no syrup are so tasty and addictive that I come back for seconds, sometimes thirds, before leaving the cafeteria.

It’s been about 20 years since I was on Mexican soil. Merida has an old-school and non-tourist vibe that I’m digging. My parents are also in town, and I’ll meet them downtown at the Palacio Municipal, Merida’s City Hall. There’s supposed to be live music and a neighborhood gathering this Saturday night. As I walk toward the Palacio Municipal, where loud Mexican music is blasting, I notice my folks from a distance. In front of the building are two car lanes full of people dancing. They remind me of aunts, uncles, and some grandparents grooving to the beats. My mother and father are moving their bodies after 40 years of marriage. My dad signals me to trade places with him as my mom waves me down to dance with her. I smile and say, “No,” like a middle school guy shy to get on the dance floor. My mom quickly grabs my hand before I can say anything and takes me to the street. Without thinking, my body moves to the upbeat music. It feels like an oven inside the dancing area. My mom and I finish and my dad says, “You didn’t look shy. Some of the locals liked your moves.” I’m sober tonight too.