My first experience with Chinese cold medicine. A drink that Lucy bought for me in the Chinese medicine store because she feels guilty that I caught her cold.
The name is 感冒灵颗粒 or gan mao ling ke li. Roughly translated: “Cold Excellent Powder.”
I wouldn’t call it excellent, at least not for taste. Naturally, it is like the underneath of a rotting tree: bitter, earthy, and a soil brown. The next time you’re in the forest and it starts to rain, bend down and lick the base of a dying tree. You might get an idea of what I mean.
The powder itself was like cracked ginger crystals, darker than raw brown sugar and less transparent. The little grains were pellets in my cup before I poured the boiling water.
I’ve been warned of a drowsing effect. That suits me just fine. I’d rather sleep through a cold anyway. For two days now I’ve tried to ignore the sore and swollen glands, the stuffy nose, the sneezing, the coughing, the headaches, the foggy dizziness; but now I think I’ll admit that I’m sick. 不适. Bring on the bark-rot liquid.
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