Entry #41

Entry #41

Sunday, February 12

10:00 a.m. Aidan’s really gotten into archery—not for hunting, as you’d suspect here in Texas—but merely for target practice. He saved up for his very own bow, and learned quite a bit about different kinds, including those used for fishing.

“How do you even see where the fish is?” he wondered, looking at an online photo of a man taking aim in murky, shallow waters. Seems bow fishing is big in Texas, where catfish and gar are heavily populated. The Big Fish Bowfishing Texas site proudly offers alligator and hog hunts, too:

 “Interested in an exciting gator hunt with either a bow and arrow or a hook and baited line?..I will be happy to go after this BIG reptile for you...Now if you want hogs, well, then, Texas is the number one state with the most wild hogs. So if you want loads of fun, then hunting hogs with dogs and knives is the answer. Come to Texas to hunt for Alligators and Hogs...you’ll love it!”



Another popular method of fishing around here (mostly for flathead catfish and other bottom feeders) is noodling, also known as hogging, tickling, grabbling, stumping, or  “hillbilly handfishing.” There’s even a new show on Animal Planet about this bizarre sport.

To begin, a noodler goes underwater to depths ranging from only a few feet to up to twenty feet and places his hand inside a discovered catfish hole. If all goes as planned, the catfish will swim forward and latch onto the fisherman’s hand, usually as a defensive maneuver, in order to try to escape the hole. —Wikipedia

Personally, I can’t imagine sticking my hand in a swamp hole, not knowing if a beaver or a poisonous snake or a huge catfish is clamping down on my bare hand. Besides, it often results in mama catfish abandoning her eggs, so thousands of catfish die. Conservationists are not exactly pals with noodling enthusiasts for this reason.

1:00 p.m. In an attempt to see a new and different part of Houston, David and I ventured to the Bellaire/Chinatown section of the city today while the kids were at their weekly art classes. I imagined something akin to the San Francisco Chinatown—a self-contained area you could simply park, walk around, take in the sights, sounds, smells...

When we arrived, we quickly discovered that Houston's Chinatown is little more than a series of beige-colored strip malls. Sure, it's brimming with Asian restaurants, cafés, bakeries, markets, and the like, but is far from charming.

We’d just driven 20 minutes to get there, so we figured we might as well get out and explore. Most people kept a safe distance from Izzie. One man actually screamed when she got within two feet of him. David said, “Chill out, man,” but the poor guy was petrified.

We’ve seen this happen in other Chinatowns—people are generally scared of dogs, no matter how harmless they appear. “It’s because they eat dogs in China,” said Aidan.

The first store we passed was a bustling bakery with a colorful display of layered cakes, cookies and baked goods, each individually wrapped in shiny plastic. The blue cat cake was especially festive.

We passed a vegetarian restaurant offering plates of differently shaped “vegetarian meats,” (spelled vege) from kidneys and fish to duck and beef. I believe they make these “shaped meats” out of some sort of wheat gluten. None of it looked remotely appetizing. Why not just serve more vegetables and call it a day? Noah, for one, said he’d never eat anything that even looks like meat, especially kidneys.

There was one place that we would’ve assumed was closed if not for the parade of people carrying out stacks of styrofoam to-go containers. The front was completely blacked-out with nary a sign of humans working inside. Four neglected palms lined the front, and there was no menu indicating what was sold, except for the overhead store sign alerting us that it was a dumpling house. Seemed more like a drug smuggling establishment than a restaurant, with its unwelcoming, darkened façade. The food must be incredible, though, because the decor was second only to a haunted house.

The supermarket proved to be the most interesting experience, although I left feeling pretty nauseated. As I walked in, an overpowering smell of seafood attacked my nasal passages. This, however, didn’t surprise me, having been in large open-air markets before.

The place had offerings I’ve never seen before—buckets of live frogs and crawfish, cartons of fresh pork blood, pig snouts, duck tongues, headless duck, “bovine pizzle” (i.e., penises), and some unidentifiable pieces-parts like “cowhells” and “osmanthus bowels.”

There were also some interesting beverage choices, like Milk Drink (not milk, exactly, but some unrefrigerated version with added sugar, etc.), Chrysanthemum Tea Drink, Grass Jelly Drink and Job’s Tears Mung Bean drink.

Want a snack? How about some “hot fruit flavored pork jerky”? I’ve never seen so many variations (or parts) of pig in my entire life. (I’d better stop now...getting seriously queasy.)

I did leave with a great selection of fresh mushrooms (much cheaper than other markets), assorted produce, rice,  tea and Pocky (note: not Porky, but Pocky, a chocolate-covered cookie stick), but couldn’t get my mind off those pints of ruby-red pig’s blood. Needless to say, we didn’t stop for a bite anywhere after shopping.