52 Hours in Foshan: Lemon Tea Lies, Noodle Therapy, and the Auntie Who Tried to Rob Me With Tea
The final stop of a 9 city post-Covid tour of southern China
Letโs not lie to each other.
This wasnโt 52 hours.
This was five hours, max, and three of them were powered by sugar and delusion.
But I had to finish the tour somewhere.
So I picked Shunde โ
close enough to Guangzhou, far enough to pretend it counted.
A finale.
A footnote.
A fever dream in lemon juice form.
โ
Act 1: Local Subway & Delusional Lemon Therapy
๐๐๐ง๐ฑ
I arrived in Daliang the way all lemon addicts doโon a local subway, holding onto hope and 2% battery.
Grabbed lemon tea from a street vendor with a loud sign and louder citrus.
Tasted like if Sprite had trauma.
I drank it anyway.
We call this: survival. ๐๐ตโ๐ซ
โ
Act 2: Cold Noodles, Warm Regret
๐๐ฅ๐ฅ
Sat down at a small shop. Ordered ๅ็ฎ (cold skin noodles).
They hit me with that classic combo:
๐คโ crunchy peanuts
๐ขโ confused cucumber
๐ดโ sweet bean meat paste thing that always slaps but never explains itself
I stared into that plate like it held the answers.
Spoiler: it didnโt.
But I cleaned it anyway. With the desperation of a man who hasnโt tasted flavor since stop #6.
โ
Act 3: Auntie Almost Force-Feeds Me Tea
๐ต๐ณ๐ธ๐
Wandered into a down a walking street.
Auntie outside the shop gave me a look like I was already a customer.
Before I could blinkโ
she poured hot tea into a cup
and leaned forward like she was gonna pour it into my mouth directly. ๐ฅด
I took it. I sipped it.
Then she smiled and pulled me into the shop
Then she pulled out a scoop.
Then another. And another.
She started filling a bag with tea leaves like she was mining for retirement.
The final scoop was practically a sack of gold.
Just when I was about to accept financial deathโ
A whisper.
โThat tea is super overpriced.โ
Said one of the little sisters part of group of little sisters.
Suddenly I saw clearly.
I raised my hand mid-scoop.
Told auntie, โActually, take some out.โ
She did.
Like Iโd broken a centuries-old pact. ๐ฌ
I paid.
I left.
I clutched my overpriced leaf sack like it was bail money.
โ
Act 4: Incense & Ancestors
๐๐ฅ๐ง ๐ซง
Found a temple. Burned incense.
Everyone else had reverence.
I had leftover bean paste breath and confusion.
But I watched anyway.
Because why not.
And maybe theyโd been to overpriced tea shops too.
โ
Act 5: Bruce Lee on Tile & The Tourist Death March
๐จ๐๐ฅ๐งโโ๏ธ
At the start of the pedestrian streetโ
a Bruce Lee mural, all sunglasses and fury, painted across a wall like a Cantonese final boss.
I nodded. He said nothing.
But I felt the energy.
Like he knew this was the end of my story.
And he did not approve.
โ
Final Verdict: The Finale That Forgot to Be a Finale
๐ง๐๐ตโ๐ซ๐ต
There was no slow montage.
No deep reflection.
Just lemon tea, regret, and a whisper from a stranger that maybeโฆ just maybeโฆ
I was getting scammed again.
This wasnโt an ending.
It was a side quest that overstayed its welcome.
But I needed closure.
And this gave meโฆ just enough.
โ
This was Stop 9 of my post-COVID, 9-city sprint across China.
One city ๐๏ธ. One story ๐. 52 hours โฑ๏ธ at a time.
(Or five. Donโt sue me.)
Tourโs over.
Heartโs full.
Wallet empty.
๐ง๐ธ๐ด
Canโt wait for the next tour!