Working on Fitting in

There is always a little bit (or a lot) of culture shock when traveling to far off lands. How you respond to these feelings is what makes to a "good traveler" or a "rough traveler". For me, traveling is fairly easy. I tend to adapt quickly and find beauty in even the most mundane. I eat most things. Growing up with an older brother who loved to eat the "exotic" and "weird", I was raised to never turn my nose up at anything. Always taste and be polite. I even have an (non-deadly) allergy to shellfish, that most people would never know about because I will always eat what I am offered... and often times enjoy it tremendously.
Here it comes-
However, living here has been rough mostly because of one fact. I am accepting of the fact that I am sweating more than I ever have in my entire life. Everything is wet, all the time. My scalp is a good 10 degrees hotter than the rest of my body. Those who know me at all, know that I never sweat. Not even on the hottest days in Chicago, when I am wearing jeans. I can't even remember the last time I put pants on.  But this, I can deal with. What I am really struggling with in the treatment of animals, mostly fish and marine invertebrates.
I get it. You don't want to eat a fish that was killed hours ago, let alone a few days ago. I get that people eat fish every day, multiple times a day. I know in most cases, the fish I see, probably just came out of the water that morning or night, and they don't live long in these buckets or tanks that are on display. But man, they are such beautiful creatures! Cuddle fish??? I never thought I would see one alive... and there they were in a little box, with an tiny aerator, looking up at me, waiting to be pulled out and placed in a plastic bag with no water... or best case they are killed and cleaned on the spot. I know their smart. I swear they look at me... "Anna.... Anna!"
Last night, I went for HotPot (A large pot of continuously boiling broth that you place meat and veggies in to cook). It was pretty much an all seafood hotpot. As soon as we sat down, two plates of mantis shrimp, clams, abalone and scallops was placed in front of us, before our hotpot even arrived. Lucky for the bi-vavles, they die upon shucking. However, the mantis shrimp were all still alive. They are phenomenal creatures and kinda helpless out of water. They look nearly identical to a praying mantis, but are not related at all.
It took a good 20-30 minutes for our hotpot to arrive. One of these shrimps kept on flopping off the plate. I almost died. Shortly after the broth came, and the bubbles started to form, I quickly started putting the shrimp in. With some flopping the in the hot broth, while other succumbed much easier, I let out a sigh of relief. I have been to lobster bakes. I know the drill. But I have never seen them struggle so much. But my journey wasn't over, it had just begun.
I was the westerner at the table. It is hospitable to take care of the guest and make sure they are fed well, often times with the biggest and best. When it was time for everyone to start pulling these cooked delicacies out of the pot, I went in and somehow got lucky to get one of the smallest ones! I felt relieved. The mother at the table was not going to have that! She fished out one of the largest shrimps, and placed it in my bowl. Said something in Chinese and took the smaller one away.
I thought, Okay, I can do this. Not so bad. The shrimp was alright. The flavor wasn't what I was expecting and not as strong as traditional shrimp. But as my brother taught me with chicken wings, I left no meat in the shell. Having been to many lobster bakes in college, I was quite good with shellfish.
"Mom" made note of my skill and mentioned to the table how good I was at cleaning my shells, in Chinese (it was translated for me), and passed over another shrimp. Oh boy. I of course ate it graciously, along with all the other organisms.
I know it's not a big deal. But you know, I see a thirsty snail and give it some water. There are things I need to get over. This is just something that is going to take bit more effort. I do enjoy seeing the diversity of species in the fish markets. It really is a very different ecosystem.
I remind myself that I am very lucky to be here... and I was very lucky to be at that table, being welcomed by a family who can't even communicate with me without someone helping. I don't ever forget that. My inner dialogs never stop, though. And I guess they never should.

Photo Credit: Australian Museum