I envy Rocky. He knew what mango was when he was little.
For me, the name, “golden mango”, only appeared in pictures when I was young. If the President of Congo or Parkistan didn’t bring two to give to Chairman Mao as greeting gifts, most of us Chinese may not hear of such a thing for decades. Chairman Mao did not eat the mangos. Instead, he passed them on to the workers. The whole nation celebrated the grand gesture. The images displayed on this website depict the sensation.
In Karlsruhe, Germany, I came upon a wagon on which exotic fruits were displayed. I asked a clerk what they were. The shriveled, yellowish, shapeless things were mangos.
Man…? Mango?! Mango!!
At the time the government gave us who worked abroad 1 USD a day for pocket-money. I was saving it up to buy a watch for my father. But I decided to part a seemingly big chunk of my Deutsch Mark for the smallest mango in that basket. I had to taste it, because it was something Chairman Mao didn’t even eat, of course not my grandparents, nor my parents.
I was in my 20s then. For the first time I realized that mangos were not golden.