Fun fact: 90% of rabbit heads worldwide are eaten in Chengdu.
Seriously. Actual rabbit heads. This is not a cute name for something else that didn’t belong once to a live animal and comes with a tongue (apparently, it’s the tastier part).
So yes, rabbit heads, 兔头 (tùtóu) in Chinese. There are entire stores dedicated to this spicy Sichuan delicacy, and people are drooling over rows and rows of rabbit heads for 10 to 20 yuans each. Street vendors also sell them, you know, just in case you forgot to buy yours for dinner and your regular corner rabbit head store is closed.
Eh, no judgment. The French eat weird stuff, too. And arguably, overprocessed North American food is kind of gross as well.
That said, I did not try snacking on rabbit heads.
Except for my slight obsession with rabbit heads, the people of Chengdu and Leshan are wonderful. We may have startled a few people along the way (“OMG, foreigners!”), but no more so than in Zhengzhou. Plus, every time people tell me that I speak Mandarin very well (Feng sighs if he is around, because if he doesn’t understand someone’s accent, people take him for an illiterate peasant).
Much like in Xi’an or Shenyang, street life is fascinating in Chengdu. I love the feeling of being part of a community, of living in the same world.
Like right now. We did a load of laundry late, close to midnight, and I noticed that two apartments in the building across were also starting on their own laundry. An hour later, we went into the laundry room to hang our clothes, and so did they. It made me smile. Although we’re all different, cultures do intersect in many ways.
Just not the whole rabbit head business. I’ll leave that to the people of Chengdu.
