After my trip to Chinatown and my difficulties with chopsticks, despite being cowed by the experience, I seriously wanted to get the hang of it, possibly in the privacy of my bedroom. I much prefer to, at the very least, look like I know what I’m doing and at the very most actually be smug about how well I am doing whatever it is I’m doing, say, using chopsticks or confidently ordering Pflügelhornen mit schlag like a German.
In Berlin one of our favorite restaurants is Peking Ente a Chinese restaurant which has great food (that eggplant—OMG). There I was a little more facile with the chopsticks or at least I ate my meal without hand cramps and half of it landing on my shirt (What to eat and how to wear it). On a later trip to a Korean restaurant we were given metal chopsticks that were strangely flat along the handle part. I don’t know why that would make a difference but, jeez, it was trying to eat soup while roller skating in heavy traffic. Fortunately the waiter was scarce so while that was annoying at least he wasn’t standing behind me being all judgey.
I need to keep a pair in my bedroom. And if I get good enough at it I can use them to pick things up off the floor without bending over so far. And believe me, there are a lot of things on the floor.