Exchanges

Ethiopians? I guessed again.

No, said Pliny. It was the Chinese.

What! I exclaimed. But the Chinese don't have hair of gold and eyes of blue. And they aren't taller than average. Do you mean to say they were like that in your day?

Not exactly, said Pliny. Perhaps you might like to read page 68 now.

I read page 68. I learned that the king of Taprobane, or modern day Sri Lanka, had sent four envoys to Rome, led by one Rachias, who had provided the following information about the Chinese. Namely, his father had travelled to China as a trader. That the Chinese always met them on the beach. The Chinese were above average height with golden coloured hair, blue eyes and harsh voices, although no conversation was had with them.

You see, said Pliny.

I see, I said. You got it wrong. But it wasn't your fault entirely. You were just relating what the Taprobanian envoy's dad had said. But didn't your Roman merchants deal directly with the Chinese too? Didn't they know what they looked like?

No, said Pliny. According to our merchants' accounts, they would leave their goods on the riverbank next to those put out for sale. If the Chinese liked the exchange they took the goods away. Our merchants did not see them.

Oh, I said. Well, I suppose you are exonerated. Is that why you made up the riddle?

I sought to divert your attention, said Pliny.

It didn't work, I said. It drew my attention. But it was an impossible riddle.

It wasn't, said Pliny. I knew the answer.

But the answer was wrong, I said. Wasn't it?

That was it's comical aspect, said Pliny.

The Green Bean Flour Pastry Joke

Well well, said Pliny the Elder. Now we know all about lobsters.

Not all about lobsters, I said.

What don't we know? asked Pliny

We don't know why the Chinese have stopped buying our lobsters, I replied. Did you hear it on the news?

I did, said Pliny. It is a mystery. I have a theory, he added.

What is it? I asked.

They want us to eat our own lobsters, said Pliny

That would be nice, I said, speaking of which...

Yes? enquired Pliny

My Chinese friend Li Feng gave me the weirdest morning tea this morning.

Lobster? asked Pliny.

No, not lobster.

Then why did you say speaking of which?

Because she's Chinese and she wanted me to eat something .

What was it?

She said it was green bean flour pastry.

And what was it?

It was a bowl of warmed up chunks of transparent cooked flour and water, cut into strips and served with soy sauce and spring onions.

Hmm, said Pliny. Did you eat it?

Yes, I ate it and said it was nice. I asked her how she made it. Easy, she said. I wasn't surprised. Add green bean flour and water and boil it, she told me. Then, leave it on a plate to get.....

Hard, I said, chewing valiantly.

Hard, she repeated. Then you cut in pieces. Some of them I make.....

Long and thin, I said.

Long and thin, she repeated, and some of them short and.....

Wide, I said helpfully. It was going well, I risked a joke.

But they taste the same, I said.