When I lived in Yantai, I believed I had been offered every bit of sealife imaginable. Like most theories I had about China, this turned out to be inaccurate.
It was almost a relief to see the usual squid bits and skewered organs.
Stick and I had some fried dumplings, fried noodles that tasted like mall foodcourt lo mein (and I mean that in the most flattering way possible), Stick also got a pork bun, and we were looking for some fruit skewers to finish up our meal. Stick asked a vendor for a strawberry kebab.
“35,” he told us.
“What?!?” Stick asked.
“35,” the vendor said, pointing at a price list in Chinese. “See, it’s 35,”
Something didn’t look right on the sign… I knew those characters, but they didn’t mean strawberry… “No! That says one large bowl of fried noodles for 35!” I cried. I was half filled with pride that I’d read a whole line of text on an actual sign, and half furious that he was trying to rip us off.
“Ok, ok, 30.” he said. Annoyed, we turned to the next vendor, who offered us 2 fruit skewers for 20. Free market in action.