When we returned we found Olympic spirit spread all over town.

We got back to Lijiang yesterday afternoon, ready for a full dose of Mama Naxi. After trudging through puddled streets as we tried to fit the two of us (plus our backpacks) under one very small umbrella, we arrived at Mama’s. She quickly ushered us to a room and told us dinner was at six.

I changed out of my soaked clothes and flopped onto the bed, happy to be down with the cramped van-ride and rainy finale of our journey back from Lugu Lake. I wasn’t so sure about Mama’s—the room was clean, but the walls very thin, and the shared bathroom rather smelly. But I knew one thing: Mama was one of a kind, and I was looking forward to seeing what this family-style dinner would be like. Six o’clock quickly rolled around and Matt and I headed downstairs for some much needed food. We sat a an empty table, but were soon joined by six other people.

Then food began to arrive. First a serving of rice to fill each of our bowls. Then a plate of fried pumpkin, followed by pork, chicken, lotus root, potatoes, beans, etc…one dish after another until all the empty spots on our table were filled. We dug in, passing plates back and forth, reaching across the table with chopsticks to grab a bite of this or that. It was delicious, especially after three nights of the same BBQ meal of questionable meats and veggies (the latter were ok I think). Nothing was very saucy, just fresh: some of it steamed, some of it fried, but nothing to oily or heavy. As all the guests finished up, Mama walked around, shouting (which seemed to actually just be normal for her) in a hoarse voice, “Money, Money!” and collecting 10RMB from each person for the meal. Not too bad considering the number of dishes and the prices at restaurants in this touristy (read: overpriced) part of town.

One of the guys at our table, Ben, was still a little hungry after dinner, so he ordered a burger. Mama (still wearing her purse) cooked it in a pan over a gas flame. Before eating it, Ben took the veggies off to the side. Seeing this, Mama came over, sat next to Ben and scolded him for not eating the veggies as she reached over, grabbed one off his plate and ate it herself.

The next morning as I took a shower, I heard a Greenday song playing—Mama’s ring-tone. Her voice carried all the way through the courtyard, into the bathroom where I could still hear her voice surprisingly clearly. That’s just Mama for you. As I ate a bowl of fruits and oatmeal in the courtyard, I watched in amusement as she cooked food, arranged transport, bossed the staff (and a few guests) around, and celebrated the Olympic torch—almost all simultaneously. A short while later she had arranged a ride for us plus a couple others to head up to Tiger Leaping Gorge for the day. “Let’s go! Let’s go!” she called to us all of a sudden, and we were quickly ushered out of the hostel compound towards a waiting cab. Upon our return later that evening, we were disappointed to learn there was no group dinner tonight. We ordered four BLTs instead. One of them came without veggies, cuz Mama knows what her guests like.