Been there ... Done that
Sniffed out in Hong Kong
I must confess I was
adequately warned about it.
Some people I know had, had their share of
misadventures with it.
In fact, that is what
raised my curiosity. I had to experience it.
You live life only once
and I certainly did not want to die ignorant.
I looked up google
maps, made note of directions and walked a couple of miles into alleyways
that must have carried years and years of history and commerce with
it.
It was all intriguing and fascinating.
To the eyes the place
felt like Bombay for its sheer energy and enterprise.
To the body the place
felt like Chennai for its heat and humidity .
To the heart the place
felt foreign at the same time it felt like home.
Rich, fertile, green
mountains that nurtured thousands of species of animals and plants stood in
stark contrast to the sprawling urban jungle, that stood tall and high in all
that reclaimed land. It stretched not horizontally but vertically to dizzying
heights that made you feel the awe for the sheer wonders of modern man
made creation.
It was relatively clean ( considering what you are used to if you have lived in Indian cities) and extremely safe even in the middle of the night ( although the over cautious traveller in me refuses to take chances)
It was extremely modern and commercialized. What with Louis vitton, Cartier, Dior, Chanel, Versace, Prada and Jimmy choo outlets it felt like Champ de elysees of the east.
But as a stark
contrast it also exuded a quaint old world charm. The narrow alleyways
with hawkers selling stuff at mind boggling and ridiculously low prices. (
After you have numbed your conscience and bargained your way
through.).
It felt very foreign in a sense since people on the streets hardly spoke or understood English. But it felt very much like home since the street smart locals put their gadgets and their mastery over sign language to good use and communicated to make up for the lack of mastery over that arguably universal language.
The people ... they were
proud and yet they were humble.
Ah ... but I have digressed a lot.
I walk through the
narrow alleyways, clicking away pictures and enter a market. Finally I am there
and I decide to take a shot at it.
.
I try my hand at
bargaining over the price. But they see the tourist in me in the way I am
cheekily taking photographs and refuse to budge on the price.
They have probably made
a killing since I agreed for a price just 20% lower than what they quoted. I
just could not bargain any more since my impatient self was raring to go
and to take a shot at this piece of experience for what felt like a
reasonable cost.
But it had to
wait. People over there do not do this on the streets or anywhere in
public.
They packed it well for
me and I tucked it deep into my bag.
I headed back with the
single minded determination of trying it out in privacy once I was safely in my
hotel room.
I clutched my bag close to my chest. That is when it struck me.
It was the Durian.
It started
smelling.
I braved the smell
and held it closer to myself in the hope that the other passengers around me do
not smell it.
I consoled myself saying they could suspect it in anyone’s bag .
It is like farting
in a crowded room or peeing in a pool. No one would get to know who did it, unless your
face gives it away.
It did not take them much time to figure it out. Faces turned towards me. The way I was clutching my bag, I think I gave it away.
To say it was embarrassing, would be an understatement . I look up and down the train trying to avoid other people’s gaze. And this is what catches my attention.
To say it was embarrassing, would be an understatement . I look up and down the train trying to avoid other people’s gaze. And this is what catches my attention.
Damn ... Will they dump
me off the train?
Will they imprison me?
Will they deport me from this
country?
If it was a fine I would have gladly paid. Ok, may be I would have grudgingly paid.
Why is there no fine for Durian? Is probably is a bigger and more
unpardonable crime than smoking, eating, drinking or carrying inflammable goods
?
Oh no !!! I should
have been careful . Me and my misadventures . It was’nt funny at all.
Thankfully my station arrives and I quickly get off the train and make a quick exit off the station.
On the streets I take long strides and walk like I am chased by a spirit. In my mind I can almost imagine the cops chasing me from all sides.
I do not have the guts to look back and check.
I make my way into the hotel entrance and into the elevator. The elevator door closes on me.
Now I cannot even plead ignorance. I get into my room and I am still holding my bag close to my chest. It does not help much.
By now
there is no mistaking the smell of the Durian.
Is it foul ?
Is it sweet
?
I cannot come to a
decision on that bit.
I guess ‘Smell’ like
beauty lies in the noses of the beholder.
it emanates a smell that cannot be
controlled. Soon the room smells of durian. There are no windows
that can be opened.
The only place to bury
the Durian was in my stomach. I quickly pick a piece up. It looks like a
piece of chicken. The strict vegetarian in me revolts.
But right now
there is no other place for the two pieces of Durian to go but into my mouth
and then into my belly. I close my eyes, roll up my nose and put one piece into
my mouth.
It was an orgasmic moment.
What the nose smells the tongue does not.
The sweet, fleshy Durian pulp, almost melts into my mouth.
My taste buds ejaculate in sheer ecstasy.
I pick up another piece,
notice to remove the seed and slowly and steadily let my taste buds linger on
this experience for just a little while more before it melts into my mouth.
Long after the after-taste has vanished from my tongue, the taste buds linger
for more.
A ROSE BY ANY OTHER NAME WOULD SMELL AS SWEET said Shakespeare .
Clearly that bloke had
not been through the Durian experience in his lifetime.
I cringe when I think of
the dirty looks, the co-passengers gave me on the underground train and the imaginary cops
who chased me on the streets. For now I do not have the gumption to try
out another misadventure.
But who knows ? It is
certainly worth the second try. And a third ...
No wonder the South east
Asians call it the King of fruits.
I've been hearing about this stuff for years. Your post was probably the most descriptive and captivating Durian story I've read yet. I'm curious to try the darn fruit--but also a bit hesitant.
ReplyDeleteArlee Bird
Tossing It Out