Sitting in the living room watching "The Next Iron Chef" program on the Food Network was a perfect way to end the day. I am not much of a television fan, however I find this program different and interesting.  In this segment, the three competing gentlemen were in Japan. Each competitor was sent to the world famous Tsukiji Fish Market in Tokyo to choose ingredients for their respective presentations. Cameras panned back and forth through the market as the gentlemen looked for their items. Fish of every description were shown in tanks. Fresh vegetables were piled everywhere. Fresh garlic and ginger root, fresh flowers for garnish, just anything and everything one could imagine for cooking were being shown on the T V screen.  I found myself thinking, where are the people yelling and bartering for the items. No shoppers except the Chefs could be seen. It seemed so unlike the open air markets I have been to while living in China.

I found myself, mentally, back in Xiangfan, Hubei Province, China. Getting up early in the mornings to do Tai Chi, I would pass through an open air market on my way to meet my friends to practice. After turning into the alleyway entrance to the market, the street was filled with people. It would be impossible to walk side by side with my friend through the throngs of people. Farmers would be sitting along sides of the passageway with their vegetables piled high in front of them. It was so much fun to see the many kinds of vegetables offered. Bright red tomatoes would be next to piles of dark purple eggplants. Cabbages, spinach,  peppers and other  vegetables showed the many shades of green. Brown skinned potatoes were piled next to pungent white onions. Next would come mushrooms, at least 4 or 5 kinds. Some would look like some sort of coral, some looked like just regular mushrooms. Some were gray with long stems and small caps growing in a clump. Garlic, ginger root and other spices such as star anise or cinnamon sticks were laid out for viewing and sniffing. Just as the olfactory nerves got calmed down, the air would be filled with sharp smells of dried red peppers of every degree of warmth.  Next would come chickens and ducks in small cages hoping that someone would choose them for dinner. Across the alley were the fish mongers hawking the morning catch. Huge river fish would be splashing and trying to be free of crowded holding tanks. People would be bending over small basins filled with much smaller fish hoping to bargain a cheaper price.

Further down the path were pork butchers and bean curd salesmen. Duck and chicken eggs were piled high waiting to be bought in bulk, not by the dozen. Finally, bananas, apples and melons started showing up on the fruit seller's carts. As I passed to the end of the market, small noodle shops would line the sides for the shoppers to have breakfast. Everywhere were the sounds of people haggling prices, slapping each other on the backs while laughing. Vendors shouting out their wares competed with people shouting out what they were willing to pay. Such great scenes became memories. Then, as suddenly as the visit back to China came, it left. The Chefs were back into my focus as they moved about the sterile kitchens preparing foods for judges. All was serious as the Chefs cooked for people who held  the future in the palms of  their hands. I sat for a moment, letting the feeling of homesickness for Xiangfan settle over me.