On Sunday, I'm supposed to eat dim sum.
Nat and I leave our hostel in search of Chinatown in Lima. A long bus ride from posh Miraflores into Downtown Lima. A long stroll to Chinatown which included being soaked by a bunch of kids with water cannons and water balloons.
Sunday in Lima, Peru means carnaval "celebrations". That translates to kids tossing water balloons and wetting passerbyers.
We find a table at a spot that serves dim sum everyday. I hope for carts and carts full of tasty goodies that I have been craving for weeks. No such luck, however, there are two large Asian families sitting and large round tables. That's a good sign. A menu is set in front of me where I should indicate what I desire. My conundrum: the menu is written in Chinese, which I can't read, and translated into Spanish, which I don't recognize. What does JaiZow mean? The only items I could figure out were the ones I didn't want, like Chai Sow Bow.
After about 10 minutes, the only waitress that speaks some Mandarin comes by, she is obviously in high demand. I spout off the things I'm craving in Mandarin to her. We had about a 30% match rate. The dishes came one by one. I was surprised by how good the fish jook was and disappointed by the shiao rong baos. I wouldn't consider it a horrible first time dim sum experience for Natalie by my judgement, but I can't wait for her to come to the bay so I can show her what real dim sum is like.
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