Along the river, women washed clothes on steps at the bank, children played in thick overcoats, and old men in blue played cards; using stones to stop them being blown away by the wind. In a restaurant, I couldn't understand the menu, so I looked around for something appetising. The waitress suggested that I write it down in English. 'Noodles and meat', I wrote. Keep it simple, I thought. The girl smiled and pointed to a price on the menu. "OK," I smiled. She took the order to the kitchen and her friend returned with a can of 'Special Quality Drink'. It was fruity, probably a blend of several, and thicker than the average canned drink; almost a syrup. While I meditated on its taste, the waitress returned with a slip of paper: 'Sorry no noodles, but we have rice'. I said that would do fine. She looked at me, so I underlined rice; and nodded. I was brought a bowl of rice and a plate of deep-fried, fatty meat. I wondered if it was the traditional bear-paw or nose of camel deer. No-one could translate, but it was probably pork.
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