Over the summer, we hosted a Taiwanese swimmer. He is eighteen and never traveled to America. We introduced him to the American melting pot of cuisine:  hamburgers, spaghetti and burritos. He hated hamburgers until he had American beef. That changed everything for him. We trained him to sit in the front seat if he was the only passenger. I told him it’s not exactly rude, but it’s weird. I think he was just respecting his elders.

One day, I found myself the most unlikely tour guide for our Asian guest.  My boys were way too busy with schoolwork to take a Saturday off to show our friend around San Francisco. I took him and apologized for not being a teenager. He is a pretty amenable guy so he of course wasn’t going to complain. Our plan was to take public transportation, BART, to the City. We would tour the Ferry Building with all its varying cuisine and walk to Giants Stadium to get a coveted baseball cap—the one thing he REALLY wanted from America.

As we exited the BART train to the streets of San Francisco, a Cable Car was waiting with plenty of seating. I got so excited!

“Hey! Let’s ride the Cable Car! That is sooo San Francisco. We don’t have to go far, just a short ride up to Chinaown and then we can walk back down. So we did. When we got to the top, I told him if he were one of my relatives, we’d go to Chinatown as there is nothing like it where they live.

“I would like to see Chinatown,” he quietly stated.

“Ok! I’m sure it’s going to be so boring. And ya know, if you were my family I’d take you to the fortune cookie factory too. For fifty cents you can you take a picture with this old lady that makes the cookies. The price hasn’t changed in twenty years! Ha, Ha.” I loved my tourist guide job.

“Oh. I’d like to go to the factory. We don’t have fortune cookies in Taiwan.” Fortune cookies are an American Chinese thing. I had forgotten.

Our first selfie in Chinatown.

Pretty Lady.

As we walked, I pointed out the colorful painted murals on the walls of brick buildings. I showed him where we like to shop for chopsticks, fans and Chinatown snow globes. The restaurant sales people handed out flyers to me only, the white “foreigner” and not my Asian foreigner friend. It was just like walking with my family. I get all the sales pitches and they ignore my hubby and sons as seemingly they are one of the Chinatown locals. Then IT HIT ME.

American & Taiwanese in Chinatown

“We have to take a selfie!” I exclaimed. “Do you get how funny this is? I AM showing you Chinatown when it should be my husband or my boys, not the Irish American. I made him take all the selfies as he was six foot three with really long arms and could get the best angle. I was chuckling all the way to the fortune cookie factory. I don’t think my Taiwanese tourist was laughing as much as I was, but he got the irony.

Fortune Cookie Factory

Inside the Factory..Photo proves it for 50 cents.

After Chinatown, we walked back down to the water where the Ferry Building stood. I took him through what used to be The Barbary Coast, where pirates hung out in the 1800s. (It was also a red light district but I left that part out.) “Some of the buildings use the original brick from that time,” I told him. I was recalling my sales job back in the late 80s when I called on businesses in the area.  Man, I don’t think my boys know this about me. I was so happy with the job I was doing, filling his head with interesting facts.

At the Ferry Building, I took him to a Vietnamese take-out place called Out the Door. He asked me what I recommended. I howled! Here we go again, the Irish American girl telling the Asian what Asian food to eat. I was cracking myself up and he just politely smiled, thinking I was the laughable one. We took our Vietnamese beef noodles to the Mexican restaurant so we could add a fish taco to our menu. You can’t come to California and not eat a fish taco. I ordered two because my friend eats A LOT!

Vietnamese Beef Noodles, An American’s rec.

I forgot to get Sriacha for our soup, the Vietnamese hot sauce. I used the next best thing and put a little Mexican hot sauce into my bowl. We ate up and there was one taco left. My giant-stomached friend was full. How is this possible? I joked with him that I thought I would never see the day. Maybe he just didn’t like the taco.

After stuffing ourselves, we hiked to Giants Stadium in search of a baseball cap. He found his treasure and put it on immediately. He was like a kid at Christmas in that cap, grinning from ear-to-ear. He took photos of the stadium and we headed for home.

Hubby asked how the day went, as he knew our guest wasn’t much of a talker and that could make for a long day.

“Oh it wasn’t boring at all. I talked and talked about all I knew in the parts of the City we toured. I laughed and laughed at being the expert in Chinatown and at the Vietnamese restaurant.” It was a great day for both of us.