Lady in library

Uwajimaya太大了！

这毫无疑问是我在美国逛过的最大的日本超市，当然加州的还未拜访过。我们东部是没有这个规模的。

如果第一次到一家比自己预期大很多的超市买东西，我就表现的异常好奇与忙碌，如果你是这家超市的摄像头，你会发现有一个头上扎着丸子头的穿蓝衣服的亚洲女士几乎在每一个熟食柜都驻足好久，仔细的研究成分，煞有介事的调转角度观察，随后一概不买。终于到了感觉累的时候，她就跟无头苍蝇一样看到什么就拿什么，两分钟结账走人。

那种没出息劲儿还表现在她一定买多，最后吃不完，她也一定会买平时需要避开的所谓不利健康的，她心里有自己的小九九，来都来了，又不是天天都吃这些。

这个超市就在中国城一个food mall里，进门一家印度外卖，紧接着越南和韩国料理，再往里是广东烧腊和其他各种叫不上名字但看样子我不太感兴趣的特色美食，当时的念头是到了中国城绝对不能犯选择困难症，那么多好吃的一定要把今天的吃饭quote用在最想吃榜排名第一的食物。

可是我的胃病犯了！ 几乎头都晕了。可能我可怜的胃被之前看的的想吃的琳琅满目的东西吓住了，还没等我想好吃什么，它就撂挑子了！

就在我走出超市来到艳阳高照的街道上，正打算沿着中国城地标大门往里面逛逛决定到底吃什么，一股很浓烈的大麻味钻进鼻孔，当然也夹杂着流浪汉人士聚集地特有的味道，我当即决定回家先养养胃吧。

你看买的这些炫耀完毕就得进冰箱，能吃的量就那么一碗还得看胃大人给不给面子。

其实我现在只想喝家里的砂锅熬的燕麦糯小米粥，煮的稀烂的，有点像汤水那么稀的。

还有不到三天就回家了。

I

Uwajimaya Is Huge!

Without a doubt, this is the largest Japanese supermarket I’ve ever visited in the United States—though I still haven’t made it to the famous ones in California. Back on the East Coast, we simply don’t have anything on this scale.

Whenever I walk into a supermarket that’s much bigger than I expected, I become strangely curious and extraordinarily busy. If you happened to be one of the store’s security cameras, you would probably notice an Asian woman in a blue shirt with her hair tied in a bun stopping in front of nearly every prepared-food counter. She studies ingredient lists with great seriousness, tilts the packages this way and that as if conducting an official inspection, and then proceeds to buy absolutely none of them.

Only after she finally grows tired does she transform into a headless chicken, grabbing whatever happens to be within reach. Two minutes later, she’s at the checkout and heading home.

This same lack of self-control reveals itself in another predictable way: she always buys too much and never manages to finish it all. She also inevitably picks up things she normally tries to avoid for health reasons. Of course, she has her own little justification ready: I’m already here. It’s not like I eat this stuff every day.

The supermarket sits inside a food mall in Chinatown. Right by the entrance is an Indian takeout spot, followed by Vietnamese and Korean restaurants. Farther inside are Cantonese barbecue shops and all sorts of specialty eateries whose names I couldn’t remember but whose offerings didn’t particularly tempt me.

My plan had been simple: when you’re in Chinatown, don’t suffer from decision paralysis. With so much delicious food around, today’s meal quota should be reserved for whatever ranks number one on the “most want to eat” list.

Unfortunately, my stomach had other plans.

My gastritis suddenly flared up. I was practically dizzy.

Perhaps my poor stomach was intimidated by the overwhelming parade of tempting foods I’d been looking at. Before I could even decide what to eat, it simply went on strike.

As I stepped out of the supermarket into the bright sunshine, intending to wander beneath Chinatown’s iconic gate and figure out lunch, a strong smell of marijuana drifted into my nose. Mixed with it was the distinctive odor often found around areas where homeless people gather.

That was enough to convince me.

Home it was. Time to give my stomach a chance to recover.

Now all these groceries I’ve proudly shown off have to go straight into the refrigerator. The truth is, I can only eat about one bowl of food anyway—and even that depends entirely on whether my stomach decides to cooperate.

What I really want right now is a pot of oatmeal and glutinous millet porridge simmered slowly at home in a clay pot, cooked until everything falls apart and becomes almost soup-like.

In less than three days, I’ll be heading home.