Weirdly I found in Chinese hospitals they don’t feed you as much as you would like. As in never. There is such a culture here of the take out and the delivery food (which is what put wife in the hospital in the first place) that they just tell you to sort yourself out.

So at 10am I’m armed with a slip of paper and the characters for plain congee (like a rice porridge-resembles wallpaper paste) to get her some breakfast. 

The previous night, needing sustinece I had stumbled on a French restaurant just a stones throw from the hospital and paid over the odds for a traditional steak frite. By god it was good. 

Only later did I realise the nurses would have happily just helped me order something online and have it delivered to the ward. 

In some ways it kind of makes sense. There’s no shitty kitchen and no shitty food. You decide what you eat, be it gloopy rice spunk or a whole roast duck.

B

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