The Hometown of Wonton - Fuqing

My cousin's vacation has ended, and he returned to his workplace. As for me, I embarked on my first solo high-speed train journey in China. Starting from Fuzhou in the morning, I boarded the train to Fuqing. Though the ride was only 14 minutes, it felt like the beginning of a brand-new journey of freedom. Today, I planned to eat, explore, and rediscover a slightly familiar yet unfamiliar version of myself. I chose to visit Shizhu Mountain first. Nestled in the fresh countryside, this sacred mountain is a place my mother often mentioned in her stories. Legend has it that I was prayed for here. Walking along the incense path of Shizhu Mountain, the air carried a faint mix of incense and the scent of nature. Around me were devout worshippers and the swaying shadows of bamboo in the breeze. Standing in front of the temple, gazing at the misty clouds below the mountain, I suddenly felt an indescribable connection to this land. After descending the mountain, I visited the Fuqing Overseas Chinese Museum. This museum focuses on the history of overseas Chinese, documenting the countless Fuqing natives who ventured across the seas, striving, dreaming, and settling in foreign lands. As someone who grew up abroad, looking at the faded immigrant photos on the exhibition walls stirred a mix of familiarity and strangeness within me. It felt as though I could see traces of my family and even myself in their stories. The highlight of the afternoon was undoubtedly the culinary tour of Lichiao Ancient Street. Like a food detective, I followed the enticing aromas and began my quest to sample Fuqing's classic snacks. First up was Gaiyi Wonton. As a native of Fuzhou, I grew up eating wontons, but the Fuqing version was extraordinary. The paper-thin wrappers, sweet and savory meat filling, and clear, flavorful broth instantly revealed that this was no ordinary wonton—it was a taste wrapped in nostalgia. "This is the best wonton I've ever had!" Next came oyster cakes and seaweed cakes, with crispy shells hiding the salty essence of the ocean. Then there were the local specialty sweet potato balls, delightfully chewy and subtly sweet, making it impossible to stop eating. Feeling tired, I grabbed a hot Guangbing (light biscuit) from Fuqing Ge Guangbing shop to munch on while walking. A quick note: it was a bit too hard and not very tasty—tough on the teeth! This day wasn't filled with grand plans or famous landmarks, but it was an incredibly genuine and tranquil journey of exploration. For the first time, I traveled solo on a high-speed train in China. For the first time, I wandered, observed, ate, and reflected freely. I suddenly realized that I was no longer just a tourist but someone gradually learning to connect with this land. On the return trip, sitting on the train and watching villages and rice fields flash by the window, I silently thought to myself: starting with wontons, I might truly be becoming a connoisseur of China.