Hello. For all intents and purposes, my name is Hrothgar. I have no relation to the mythical Danish king of the same name or any other person familiar with his story, anyway. I just like the way that it comes off of the human tongue.

First contact with Earth, as it's known, was about two decades ago. Their integration with our galactic society has been slow but steady. Naturally so, especially considering that WE were the ones who ventured here and not the other way around. Human technology is advancing by leaps and bounds with the aid of the various species around the galaxy, but that's not why I'm writing this journal entry. No, I wanted to experience what the humans had to offer firsthand.

I wanted to make the journey earlier, but the vaccines for Earthborne diseases hadn't been standardized before then. For a busy person like me, the amount of paperwork that would have been required was prohibitively cumbersome. Thank goodness I waited, too, since the Earthen governments hadn't gotten their thoughts together until a few years back. Now, some places are even welcoming otherworldly travelers like myself in hoards.

One of these earmarked places is the island called Taiwan. It apparently is very beautiful, warm, and agreeable for my kind. Fun fact: apparently, humans make a good amount of their runes here (they call them "chips" or something), and it uses up a solid chunk of their energy production on the island.

To guide me on this adventure, I hired a guide, Tony, to lead me around to see the sights and eat the island's cuisine. (I'm told that the food that they have here is something to die for! Thank goodness I was born as a being that can actually eat and not like THOSE pesky friends.)

When I landed on the island after a week's worth of travels, I was naturally exhausted. It didn't help that it was well past starset, so I wanted to curl up and rest until it was bright outside again.

Tony had other ideas, though. He was bursting with energy, and I could feel his enthusiasm even though I had trouble understanding him at first. (The English that they teach at university is NOTHING like what the locals use, it seems.) After dropping off my belongings, he suggested visiting the night market before I call it a night. My exhaustion long gone, I was happy to agree.

I had done my homework before visiting Earth, so I wasn't going in entirely blind. I was still adjusting to the slightly higher-than-normal gravity. I had already gotten an EM-wave-enabled device with some of their currency preloaded, so I could communicate and pay for whatever I needed here. I knew that Earth was a type IIIA planet, meaning it was a middle-of-the-road water-based planet with a highly competitive ecosystem. What I WASN'T ready for was what that meant for the food that I was going to eat.

I don't know if Tony could read minds, but he asked briefly if there were foods that I knew that I could not eat. Even though I could eat literally anything that they could offer, I told him that I couldn't eat iodine because my tongue tends to sense it as thaal. Somewhere between bitter and spicy for humans, I'm told. Just unpleasant.
I don't think that was something Tony was accustomed to hearing because he scrunched up his face. He said something about avoiding seafood, I think. Probably means that there's lots of iodine in the oceans or something.

When we got out of the taxi, I was greeted with a sight that you can only see once in a lifetime. A bustling street full of people (humans and nonhumans alike), with stalls lining either side of the cramped cobbled road. Lanterns burning some sort of oil combined with artificial lighting lit up the area as if it was daylight. Shopkeepers were calling out to the crowd and peddling whatever they had on hand in a language that I could not understand.

I glanced over to Tony, and his eyes were alight. Before I could even say anything, he was motioning me to follow him and nearly disappeared into the crowd. With no better choice, I chased after him.

Before long, we had stopped in front of a stall that sold small beige hemispheres with ridges. Tony introduced them to me: they're called meat buns or something (I couldn't understand the other language that Tony was quoting, and my translator was off) and were a treat that he would get all the time growing up and occasionally even today. After I bought a small box of 12 or so (Tony got a couple for himself, too), we started milling our way through the crowd towards the other side of the street.

The buns had a unique appeal to them. The flavors were not new, not by any means. We had other meats or substitutes that tasted similar to what I was eating, but it always had that homely spin that made the flavor miss the mark. This had everything in the right place, and the flavor explosion caused the box to quickly empty itself.

"Done so soon?" I remember Tony saying. There was much more in store, as it turned out.

We walked by another stall that had some flat creature on a stick with score marks diagonally cut across it. I asked Tony what it was, and they call them "squids." As delicious as they looked, Tony said that they come from the sea, so unless I was willing to taste thaal tonight, I had to skip it.

We left the market street briefly to sit in at a nearby dining establishment. Their customers were mostly human, so it looked like a local hole-in-the-wall place that was still popular even this long after starset. After the chef behind the counter waved us in, we took a seat at a small table on some cheap plastic stools. The flimsy menus that Tony picked up were inscribed with the local language, I would assume, alongside some questionable English phrases (what does mom and pop lung slices mean!?). Maybe that was why Tony had a peculiar accent.

Even though I was intently studying the menu, Tony could easily tell that I was way out of my element and just asked me directly what I would like to taste. When I told him something out of the ordinary (that was what I came to experience, after all), his mouth twirled into a smirk and he called over a waitress to order a couple of things. Afterwards, he turned to me and explained what he ordered. I turned on my translator just in time to record the conversation, so I'll leave the transcript below.

---

"I ordered a thing or two that I hope you like."
"What did you order?"
Tony paused. "What do you know about human cuisine? Especially for Asian cultures."
"Asian? I... don't remember much. Although I do remember you do eat weird things."
"That's fair. I'm told that humans are weird because we even try to eat things that kill us."
I was taken aback. "What?!"
"You heard that right. Pufferfish are highly toxic to humans, or, at least, one part of it. We remove that part and eat the good parts."
"That sounds dangerous."
"Yeah, that's why a handful of people die every year trying."
"WHAT!? And they haven't stopped it?"
"No, in fact. The opposite."
"What..." I paused to think. "What do you mean to say when you first asked that question?"
"I asked because the dish they're probably going to serve us is going to have a lot of chili peppers. That has a spicy flavor. You know what that means, right?"
"Yes, it causes a burning sensation in the mouth for humans. It shouldn't affect me, though."
"Alright, that's good. You know why chili peppers became spicy, right?"
"No, I am not aware."
"Birds, you know, the flying guys, are immune to that sensation, like you, I'd assume. Birds also spread seeds everywhere because they can fly everywhere. That means that annoying humans and other animals won't eat their fruit, the chili pepper, and birds can help spread the plant everywhere they go."
"That's... metal."
"Oh yeah. Hey, where'd you learn that phrase from?"
"I browsed your Internet for a bit before landing."
Tony paused. "Anyway, the first dish is some cold rice noodles with a spicy oil."

---

Right on cue, the dish was placed in front of us, and Tony thanked the waitress. After trying and failing to use the provided chopsticks (I had zero practice, and it just wasn't made for my body), Tony fetched a fork for me to use. I at least had some practice with those, but the slippery rice noodles were still a trouble to stab. (Now that I think about it, can these be called "noodles"? They were about as thick as Tony's fingers, and the pictures that I find online don't look like what I ate.)

Tony's recommendation didn't disappoint; the noodles were thick with flavor. It tasted like someone had taken a fruit off of a tree and brought it into the mines and baked it in some broth. Akin to an explosion of flavor. The only thing preventing me from finishing more off was my inability to feed it to myself any quicker. (Although Tony was kind enough to stop eating after a few bites after he noticed me nearly going feral.)

After finishing off the appetizer, we chatted for a little longer.

---

"How was that? We call that liang fen in Chinese."
"It was really good. I see why people travel far and wide to taste these sort of things."
"Haha, it's funny you say that because my uncle is doing the same thing. He's currently some 80 light years away from home on the longest food crawl known to man."
"Haha. Food crawl?"
"Oh, a trip where the entire goal is to eat."
"That sounds a little... excessive."
"Well, on this planet, if you're in the forest, either you eat or get eaten. That's just how it works. And old habits die hard, I guess."
"Golly, that's... metal."
"You like that phrase, don't you."
"Maybe I do."
"Anyway, the next dish I ordered is quite sour along with spicy. You know what sour entails, right?"
"Yes, it's the closest thing to your spicy that we have at home."
"Interesting, that's cool. I just wanted to check that you can handle the extra acid."
"As long as it doesn't have too much, I should be fine."
"I don't think it does, but if it is, just let me know. I can ask for extra water when you need it."
"I appreciate the gesture."
Tony paused. "I usually have this as fish, but seeing that you can't eat seafood, I ordered the beef version for us two."
"You've mentioned a lot of animals. Do you humans eat everything?"
"Well, we do have our limits. Like, we don't eat cats or dogs because we keep them as pets, but almost everything else is fair game. Cows make beef, pigs make pork, and we eat all kinds of birds, too."
"I guess you weren't kidding when you said 'you eat or get eaten.'"
"That's just how the cookie crumbles."
"Huh?"
"Oh, wouldn't you look at that? Our suan la niu pien is here!"

---

We were given two big bowls of soft white-grained rice to go along with the sour beef. When I tasted the vegetables in the soup of the sour beef, I instantly understood why the chef gave us rice to pair with the beef. It was so incredibly sour! I started hacking and Tony looked up, concerned. I told him I was fine, but I downed an entire glass of water and a couple carbonate tablets to regain my composure. The rice was there to pad the flavor and make the entire meal more digestible. After Tony fetched me another glass of water, he was chuckling to himself while muttering something about telling me so. In my defense, I didn't hear any objections from him about what I was doing.

The rest of the bowl was enjoyable, however. A nice balance of sour and the musky spicy flavor made the entire meal filling and pleasant. I could see why my former classmates in college got addicted to this kind of cuisine.

After we paid for our food, we walked back onto the main street, which was still busy despite it being the literal middle of the night at this point. Tony said there was one last spot that he had in mind, so I followed him through the ever-thick crowd yet again. I had all sorts of things on my mind now: humans not only eat all sorts of animals and plants, but they also put plants that evolved scare tactics into their food. I knew that humans were barbaric in nature through their military exploits in history, but I had no idea that their tendencies ran this deep in their psyche.

Tony tapped me and motioned in the general direction of a typical-looking stall. However, this one had the longest line that I had seen yet. It was worth it, he told me.

While we were waiting, he explained to me that this was "mochi," a sweet imported from overseas that gained traction in recent times. He said in particular that he wanted me to try the mint flavor, which was not traditional, but mint itself was a peculiar plant. It apparently evolved a flavor that would feel cooling to the consumer to ward off predators. However, the flavor caught on and it is now cultivated all across the world. He mentioned that spiciness and even numbness (in the case of the "Sich'uan pepper," I think he called it) are sought after by some folk. So, not only do humans put plants that cause them to experience weird sensations, but they even enjoy it! Every human has to have some baseline level of mental instability, I reckon.

I do have to admit that the mochi was delightful. Even though I couldn't experience the cooling effect from the mint, the refreshing sensation I did feel was a nice dessert to finish off the night.

Writing this from my room in the hotel that I am staying at, I did not expect humans to be so full of surprises, even in the foods that they put in their bodies. I knew that they sought interesting and new flavors, but I was no stranger to that myself. I did NOT expect humans to allow their food to give them pain in the process, however. Truly barbaric in nature.

Now I must rest and see what the rest of this island has to hold for me. I'm sure to be surprised now, though I'm not sure exactly how.

Only time will tell.