Chopsticks

Chris and I are trying our hardest to use chopsticks properly, much to the amusement of those around us I'm sure.  I've surprised myself by how well I've done, especially dumplings, which are large, and rice, ever since I learned I could shovel clumps of it in my mouth with the chopsticks.  But things like vegetables are tricky.  They're just so darn slippery. 

We were in a restaurant the other evening, persisting with our dinner, and I could feel the eyes of the entire waitstaff watching us as they milled around near our table.  Then Matteo picked up a pair of chopsticks, watched us intently, and tried on his own.  I don't know if our waitress felt sorry for us or for Matteo for having such chopstick-using-novices as parents, but she suddenly appeared with forks and knives.  Out of pride, we refused to use them.  And then Chris discovered that his dish was actually a soup and could have been consumed with a spoon. 

On our visit to Matteo's foster parents yesterday, we went to lunch with a couple of people from the orphanage.  We sat down at the formally set table and I must have looked away to take off my coat or find Matteo's sippy cup, because when I looked back, our chopsticks had been swapped out for a fork and a knife.  I know they thought they were being polite, like when foreigners speak English with you when you're trying to practice the language in their country, but I was disappointed I wasn't given the option to practice.  And then it was my turn to eat the soup with a fork instead of a spoon....