After a bit of a delay at the airport in Shanghai over the viability of J's visa, we were finally able to check-in. Luckily we'd arrived at the airport with plenty of time to spare, so we grabbed some lunch and then hopped on flight, arriving in Seoul around 7pm.
J had contacted her friend Peter, a classmate of hers in Chicago, and he met us at the airport. I hadn't seen him since the summer of 2009 myself, so it was great to catch up. Our first impression of Seoul was how clean and modern everything is, complete with Samsung and Hyundai products seen at every turn.
Although it was near 8pm, Peter said he'd be happy to take us to the N Seoul Tower where there is an observatory. We took the A'REX airport train to Seoul Station, then jumped in a (Kia) taxi to the top of Namsan, the southern mountain where the tower is located. The "N" in N Seoul Tower stands for Namsan, apparently.
Peter told us that usually we would have to show our passports at the gate to the entrance road up to the tower, since only foreign visitors are allowed to take cars and taxis up. Koreans all take the bus or walk. It looked like a pretty steep climb to me, but Peter insisted that it was easy. Indeed, at the top of Namsan, there were gaggles of young people whom mostly looked to be on dates, dressed fashionably and enjoying the excellent evening weather.
Up on the observatory deck it soon became apparent as to why there were so many couples. The entire railing surrounding the deck is covered in pad-locks. Not just a few, but probably thousands. This is due to the tradition of couples putting a lock on the railing to symbolize the strength of their love, and some of the locks were indeed heart-shaped, or even had little love notes written on them. We hadn't come prepared with a lock, but Peter was nice enough to take our picture to commemorate the occasion. Then we went to a cafe inside the tower and all had some hot chocolate!
Around midnight, we hopped on the last cable car heading back down to level land. It put us near the center of town, and from there we grabbed a taxi to our guesthouse.
The guesthouse is a simple affair for budget travelers who still want a bit of comfort. It has clean sheets, fast internet, a massive, flat-screen LG television, and other amenities in the room, with access to a communal kitchen on the first floor where we could get coffee and toast with jam for breakfast the next day.
It all sounded great and the bed looked extremely comfy at that point, so we said goodbye to Peter and drifted into dreams.
Saturday, February 26, 2011
Shanghai Expo
We had the morning free in Shanghai before we had to head to the airport, so we took the subway over to the 2010 World Expo site where the Chinese Pavilion is still open to the public. According to Xinhua (the Chinese news agency), there were so many visitors to the Chinese Pavilion during the actual expo (which ended in October last year) that they announced it would be reopened for six months in 2011. This likely gave more foreigners a chance to view the pavilion, whereas locals could wait until later to check it out.
We did our best to arrive early, and made it there about quarter to 9, just before it opened. There were already people heading toward the site in droves, but no massive lines. We did a speed-walk, bought tickets and joined the crowd inside. Although it was crowded, the staff did a great job in directing people where to go. And probably more than anything, the way the pavilion was designed and set up made it bearable for large crowds, and still be able to see everything. In fact, I believe Xinhua had noted the pavilion had a capacity of 4,000 people per hour, which is pretty amazing by any measure, but after going through the pavilion, I believe it.I wouldn't say the actual exhibition was anything "museum worthy", but it was a show of what China is all about, from architecture, to history (there was a National Treasure on display, although it took 10 minutes of waiting in line and about 4 seconds to shuffle past it in a darkened room), to art, to the environment and the future. The architecture "tour" was done on a mini roller-coaster. People were diverted into multiple lines and the cars left every minute or so, meaning there was hardly a wait at all. The cars rolled past scenes in colored lights, showing ancient and modern bridges, old matrix-based joints for wooden structures such as temples, and newer architecture in the cities.
After about an hour, the pavilion tour was over. The exhibit was impressive in many ways, and it did make me wish I'd seen the pavilions of other nations as well had I visited last year. However, it was a good experience and will prepare me for what is to come should I have a chance to check out the next World Expo in, say, 2012 in Yeosu, South Korea, or in 2015 in Milan, Italy.
Friday in Shanghai
After checking out the alleyways of 'Old West Gate'，we looked around for a good place to grab some breakfast. We finally settled on a place that had rou jia mou, what I would call, basically, a Chinese hamburger. It is braised meat, shredded and put between an English-muffin-esque bun. We ate two each, as well as a rice porridge (xiao mi zhou), a hard-boiled and an over-easy egg, so needless to say, it all tasted great. J chided that the restaurant staff was probably thinking, "dang, these two eat a lot!"
Well, the rest of the day we did enough walking to more than make up for the big breakfast. Our next stop was Xi Tian Di, literally "new sky earth".
Xin Tian Di is a newly developed area of Shanghai which caters to foreign tourists. It's mostly restaurants and souvenir shops, all done in a very fashionable, outdoor-shopping-along-a-promenade type style. We passed up the Starbucks, but couldn't resist the coffee and free wireless internet connection at The Coffee Bean.
It was nearing 1pm, so we headed over to the Shanghai Museum, where we easily spent 3 hours checking out the exhibits on the four floors. The museum was certainly a highlight of the trip, and it was fun to get the audio guides to get some background information on many of the pieces, such as 5,000 year old iron wine vessels, and spectacular Jingdezhen "China porcelain" with under-glaze cobalt blue designs and stunning wucai (five-color) vases and dinner platters. J commented how amazing it was to see pieces that she'd only seen in books up until now, and I to agree that looking at 5,000 years of civilization was nothing less than breathtaking.
Nevertheless, the museum closed at 5pm, so we shuffled out of there, and headed over to Yu Gardens where they have a famous take-out shop for Shanghai xiao rampo dumplings, filled with pork and crab. We had to wait in line for about 30 minutes to buy 16 small dumplings (for about $3), but each one was a steamed bun of perfection.
After that, we strolled down to the riverside to take a look at the skyline from the west side of the Huangpu River. As we walked along the pier, we could see the old British and French buildings ahead of us, which have been preserved in all their splendor. As it was nearing 10pm, we searched for a ferry to cross back to the east side of the river, where our hotel was, and were lucky to find the last one leaving at 9:45. We paid about 2 yuan each (about 0.20 cents!) and the ferry delivered us to the other side in just 10 minutes. Later, finally back at the hotel, we collapsed into bed, exhausted and having had a great time.
Well, the rest of the day we did enough walking to more than make up for the big breakfast. Our next stop was Xi Tian Di, literally "new sky earth".
Xin Tian Di is a newly developed area of Shanghai which caters to foreign tourists. It's mostly restaurants and souvenir shops, all done in a very fashionable, outdoor-shopping-along-a-promenade type style. We passed up the Starbucks, but couldn't resist the coffee and free wireless internet connection at The Coffee Bean.
It was nearing 1pm, so we headed over to the Shanghai Museum, where we easily spent 3 hours checking out the exhibits on the four floors. The museum was certainly a highlight of the trip, and it was fun to get the audio guides to get some background information on many of the pieces, such as 5,000 year old iron wine vessels, and spectacular Jingdezhen "China porcelain" with under-glaze cobalt blue designs and stunning wucai (five-color) vases and dinner platters. J commented how amazing it was to see pieces that she'd only seen in books up until now, and I to agree that looking at 5,000 years of civilization was nothing less than breathtaking.
Nevertheless, the museum closed at 5pm, so we shuffled out of there, and headed over to Yu Gardens where they have a famous take-out shop for Shanghai xiao rampo dumplings, filled with pork and crab. We had to wait in line for about 30 minutes to buy 16 small dumplings (for about $3), but each one was a steamed bun of perfection.
After that, we strolled down to the riverside to take a look at the skyline from the west side of the Huangpu River. As we walked along the pier, we could see the old British and French buildings ahead of us, which have been preserved in all their splendor. As it was nearing 10pm, we searched for a ferry to cross back to the east side of the river, where our hotel was, and were lucky to find the last one leaving at 9:45. We paid about 2 yuan each (about 0.20 cents!) and the ferry delivered us to the other side in just 10 minutes. Later, finally back at the hotel, we collapsed into bed, exhausted and having had a great time.
Old West Gate
We made the most of our only full day in Shanghai, heading out around 8 am and not returning until 11 pm. I'll have to break-up this day into a few different posts so it's not too long. So for now I'll just say...
Our first stop was the "Old West Gate" (Lao Si Men). We got there by taking a bus, which was unbelievably crowded (although I suppose it was "rush hour"), but the ride provided an interesting insight to the honesty of Shanghai's public transportation users. With no more space at the front of the bus, when we would stop at the next station, people would pass up their electronic bus card and ask someone to tap it against the receiver so they could then go to the rear door of the bus and try to squeeze in there! That happened innumerable times, a few people even passing their cards up after getting on in the back of the bus, and having their card passed back through a long line of people.
After we got off the bus at Old West Gate, we wandered through the old Shanghai alleys, which are well known for the narrow streets and ubiquitous scene of wet laundry drying on wires crossing above the alleyway. People were going about their daily business and there didn't seem to be too many tourists around--so I'm sure both J and I stood out plenty since we were taking pictures like crazy!
After we got off the bus at Old West Gate, we wandered through the old Shanghai alleys, which are well known for the narrow streets and ubiquitous scene of wet laundry drying on wires crossing above the alleyway. People were going about their daily business and there didn't seem to be too many tourists around--so I'm sure both J and I stood out plenty since we were taking pictures like crazy!
(more to come later...)
Shanghai Pearl
We arrived in Shanghai yesterday afternoon, a little behind schedule due to a slight flight delay. After stowing our luggage at the airport, we took day packs and hopped on the subway. The airport is about 45 minutes away from the city by subway, but the ride is pretty smooth. After getting checked in and settled at our hotel, it was nearly 3:30pm, so we decided to forgo the 2010 Expo Chinese Pavilion tour (until Sat morning, at least) and headed straight for downtown where we planned to see the Shanghai Pearl Tower at night.
Before that we figured we might as well get a bite to eat, so we grabbed a taxi and J struck up a friendly conversation with our driver. The driver was extremely friendly, a woman in her late-30s, and she suggested an area with good food that wasn't as expensive as the area right next to the Pearl. It was still about 4:00 when she dropped us off at a nice looking hotel restaurant, so we noted the spot and then took a stroll around town.
The Pudong area of Shanghai is the central, cosmopolitan area, filled with shopping malls restaurants, newsstands and other small shops. I was a bit surprised to see a big Best Buy, not to mention a Papa John's Pizza (which in Chinese is, Ban! Yuehan, which roughly translates to "Great! John"). We ended up finding another restaurant that J thought looked like it might be good, and since it was 5:00 and the dinner places were all opening, we decided to give it a try. Lang Yi Fang had stupendous food, at least what we tried of it: a papaya-coconut appetizer, sweet & sour pork ribs, a tofu and crabmeat dish, tofu-chicken eggrolls, and pumpkin fried bread.
After dinner, we kept an eye on the Shanghai Pearl Tower and walked for about 20 minutes until we got there. Seeing it up close was even more impressive than seeing it lit up from afar. It is truly an amazing structure, with a massive sphere near the bottom, a mid-size sphere in the center, and one more near the top. You can take an elevator up to the second sphere for 120 Yuan, but we decided to stroll down to the riverside instead. From there, we could see much of the skyline on both sides. It was a beautiful and unseasonably warm evening, and it felt great to be outside.
Shanghai made a great impression on both of us, and we went back to our hotel looking forward to what tomorrow would bring.
Before that we figured we might as well get a bite to eat, so we grabbed a taxi and J struck up a friendly conversation with our driver. The driver was extremely friendly, a woman in her late-30s, and she suggested an area with good food that wasn't as expensive as the area right next to the Pearl. It was still about 4:00 when she dropped us off at a nice looking hotel restaurant, so we noted the spot and then took a stroll around town.
The Pudong area of Shanghai is the central, cosmopolitan area, filled with shopping malls restaurants, newsstands and other small shops. I was a bit surprised to see a big Best Buy, not to mention a Papa John's Pizza (which in Chinese is, Ban! Yuehan, which roughly translates to "Great! John"). We ended up finding another restaurant that J thought looked like it might be good, and since it was 5:00 and the dinner places were all opening, we decided to give it a try. Lang Yi Fang had stupendous food, at least what we tried of it: a papaya-coconut appetizer, sweet & sour pork ribs, a tofu and crabmeat dish, tofu-chicken eggrolls, and pumpkin fried bread.
After dinner, we kept an eye on the Shanghai Pearl Tower and walked for about 20 minutes until we got there. Seeing it up close was even more impressive than seeing it lit up from afar. It is truly an amazing structure, with a massive sphere near the bottom, a mid-size sphere in the center, and one more near the top. You can take an elevator up to the second sphere for 120 Yuan, but we decided to stroll down to the riverside instead. From there, we could see much of the skyline on both sides. It was a beautiful and unseasonably warm evening, and it felt great to be outside.
Shanghai made a great impression on both of us, and we went back to our hotel looking forward to what tomorrow would bring.
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Mandarin Fries
Our last dinner in Dalian, we went out to a local restaurant nearby with J's parents. This place serves excellent dishes, including familiar ones with a little extra pizzazz. For example, the sweet and sour pork (go lao rou) was sweetened not only with pineapple, but also a touch or orange. They also cut the pork along the edges which allowed it to be fried lightly and absorb more of the flavor.
My favorite dish at this restaurant, however, is quite simple, and my fav because I haven't seen it elsewhere (although I'm told it is available at other eateries); I absolutely love their pumpkin fries! They are almost like a potato "french fry" but made with a sweet squash. I think MaiDangLau (i.e. the golden arches in Chinese) should serve these and call them Mandarin Fries. I would super size them in an instant.
We also had a calamari with miso sauce dish and a shrimp and cloud-ear mushroom dish, which were excellent. Not to mention a couple bottles of SNOW Beer... a few days ago I wrote I thought this beer was called "Mons", until I realized I was reading it upside-down!
In any case, that is all for now for dispatches from Dalian. Tomorrow we are off to Shanghai, and then Seoul for a short stint. Maybe I'll discover some Canton Fries or Kimchi Fries along the way.
My favorite dish at this restaurant, however, is quite simple, and my fav because I haven't seen it elsewhere (although I'm told it is available at other eateries); I absolutely love their pumpkin fries! They are almost like a potato "french fry" but made with a sweet squash. I think MaiDangLau (i.e. the golden arches in Chinese) should serve these and call them Mandarin Fries. I would super size them in an instant.
We also had a calamari with miso sauce dish and a shrimp and cloud-ear mushroom dish, which were excellent. Not to mention a couple bottles of SNOW Beer... a few days ago I wrote I thought this beer was called "Mons", until I realized I was reading it upside-down!
In any case, that is all for now for dispatches from Dalian. Tomorrow we are off to Shanghai, and then Seoul for a short stint. Maybe I'll discover some Canton Fries or Kimchi Fries along the way.
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
China's Answer to Dunkin' Donuts
For breakfast today we had doufu nao and sweet bread, which J said is sort of an old standby Chinese breakfast. Cubes of bean curd are mixed in a soy sauce-based soup thickened with potato starch and flavored with different fragrant spices. The exact spices used depend on the shop that makes it, and it's a closely kept secret--a secret sauce, if you will. Nevertheless, no doubt the sauce had some nira (leeks) since I could see some of the herbs from the leek mixed in as well.
The sweat bread is sort of a long, fluffy, French cruller; it's just sweet enough to balance out the slightly salty, and just a tad spicy doufu nao. I followed J's lead and took a spoonful of the soup, then bit off a piece of sweet bread. Before trying it, I didn't know what to expect and was a bit hesitant; however, after the first bite, I nearly didn't stop until it was all gone. And then I had seconds.
The sweat bread is sort of a long, fluffy, French cruller; it's just sweet enough to balance out the slightly salty, and just a tad spicy doufu nao. I followed J's lead and took a spoonful of the soup, then bit off a piece of sweet bread. Before trying it, I didn't know what to expect and was a bit hesitant; however, after the first bite, I nearly didn't stop until it was all gone. And then I had seconds.
Navigating Unexpected Turns
Yesterday J and I went downtown to catch the new photo exhibit at the
Dalian Art Center. We'd gone earlier in the month for a painting exhibit
by local artists, mostly landscape paintings of the seaside town of
Xiamen. At that time they told us the photo exhibit would be open on the
22nd, so we planned accordingly.
Dalian Art Center. We'd gone earlier in the month for a painting exhibit
by local artists, mostly landscape paintings of the seaside town of
Xiamen. At that time they told us the photo exhibit would be open on the
22nd, so we planned accordingly.
We also planned to pick up a family picture we'd taken just before the
Chinese New Year at a photo studio in town. After that, we'd meet J's
friend at one of the city parks, go out to dinner and then maybe do a
little karaoke (which they abbreviate as "KTV" here).
Well, it turned out that the photo exhibit wasn't open yesterday and J's
friend had something come up and couldn't meet us. We called her cousin
to see if she wanted to go out, but she was unavailable as well. J tried
calling the Dalian Shell Museum, a huge, sandcastle-like structure in
the south o the city, to see if they were open, but the line had been
disconnected (apparently the museum is closed now). Luckily, we were
able to pick up the family picture without a problem.
In the afternoon, we ended up at a bookshop where we were initially
looking for a sort-of "coffee table book" of Dalian. They didn't have
one that we liked, but we started looking at all the maps, both local,
national and world, that the store had available. It was a lot of fun
just checking out geography of different places, including a molded
plastic map of the world that showed elevation, so there was a big chunk
of the world raised high above the rest where the Himalayas are located.
On a Chinese map, that's closer to the middle of the world--the U.S. is
stuck near the right margin. We ended up buying two huge wall maps: one
of the whole world in 1:25,000,000 scale, and one of China in
1:4,500,000 scale, both written in English and Chinese.
Sunday, February 20, 2011
Reservoir Market
This morning J's mom took us out to the local morning market, which is
set up along an old water channel leading from the nearby reservoir
that's no longer in use. We walked along with market stalls set up on
both sides along the length of the channel. The entrance to the market
is actually just up the street, but J's mom took us around to the end of
the market so we'd end up back near the house. She said that in the
summer, the market extends much further, but since it was winter, maybe
only half of the channel is filled.
The first person we came across was a man sitting on a small stool
spinning a black iron canister hung horizontally over a fire to make
puffed corn. He was selling it for 1 Yuan (about 15 cents), so I picked
up a bag and handed him the money. It tasted great, and I couldn't
resist throwing a few in the air and catching them in my mouth.
We headed further down and came across a clothing wholesaler getting rid
of old merch, "Anything in the pile for 10 Yuan!" There was some good
stuff, all of it in piles laid out on top of a big tarp. J found two
nice tops in the pile and we continued further down.
Next was a man selling a vegetable cutter. It was like he'd been
transported off a home shopping network. He had a headset microphone
with a small speaker projecting his voice to anyone who was interested
to hear. "You want chopped cucumber? Why chop endlessly with a knife?!"
He demonstrates with--and there's no better way to describe the common
kitchen knife in China--a big, honkin' meat cleaver. "Instead, you can
use this and it's as easy as One, Two, Three." With each number, he
slides the cucumber across the grater. "Want sliced carrots? Even
easier!" He changes the blade on the grater, "One, Two!"
and--shebang!--there are finely sliced carrots in front of him. J was
mesmerized, but thinking of our luggage limit and the fact that we were
still just 10 minutes into the market, I told her there were similar
outlets for such a device in the States.
After that, we passed a number of mostly meat, veggie and fruit vendors,
although there was an interesting "CD shop" selling karaoke versions of
old Chinese favorites. The guy had quite a large crowd, including one
old woman who looked about 90 hunched over leaning on a cane reading the
list of the 1,000 songs featured on the CD (set?).
We passed by a table with four piles of different shellfish (I think
scallops, clams, muscles and oysters). The guy behind the table was
shucking huge oysters and putting them into plastic bags for customers,
eagerly buying them up. We ordered a kilo of scallops and he dragged a
small hand rake across the pile and onto a metal tray for the scale. A
closer look at the pile and I could see some of them were still moving,
proving them fresh caught from this morning. I suppose they were
gathered out of the Bohai Sea this morning and brought straight to the
old reservoir, which certainly proved to be an interesting place to
spend some time.
set up along an old water channel leading from the nearby reservoir
that's no longer in use. We walked along with market stalls set up on
both sides along the length of the channel. The entrance to the market
is actually just up the street, but J's mom took us around to the end of
the market so we'd end up back near the house. She said that in the
summer, the market extends much further, but since it was winter, maybe
only half of the channel is filled.
The first person we came across was a man sitting on a small stool
spinning a black iron canister hung horizontally over a fire to make
puffed corn. He was selling it for 1 Yuan (about 15 cents), so I picked
up a bag and handed him the money. It tasted great, and I couldn't
resist throwing a few in the air and catching them in my mouth.
We headed further down and came across a clothing wholesaler getting rid
of old merch, "Anything in the pile for 10 Yuan!" There was some good
stuff, all of it in piles laid out on top of a big tarp. J found two
nice tops in the pile and we continued further down.
Next was a man selling a vegetable cutter. It was like he'd been
transported off a home shopping network. He had a headset microphone
with a small speaker projecting his voice to anyone who was interested
to hear. "You want chopped cucumber? Why chop endlessly with a knife?!"
He demonstrates with--and there's no better way to describe the common
kitchen knife in China--a big, honkin' meat cleaver. "Instead, you can
use this and it's as easy as One, Two, Three." With each number, he
slides the cucumber across the grater. "Want sliced carrots? Even
easier!" He changes the blade on the grater, "One, Two!"
and--shebang!--there are finely sliced carrots in front of him. J was
mesmerized, but thinking of our luggage limit and the fact that we were
still just 10 minutes into the market, I told her there were similar
outlets for such a device in the States.
After that, we passed a number of mostly meat, veggie and fruit vendors,
although there was an interesting "CD shop" selling karaoke versions of
old Chinese favorites. The guy had quite a large crowd, including one
old woman who looked about 90 hunched over leaning on a cane reading the
list of the 1,000 songs featured on the CD (set?).
We passed by a table with four piles of different shellfish (I think
scallops, clams, muscles and oysters). The guy behind the table was
shucking huge oysters and putting them into plastic bags for customers,
eagerly buying them up. We ordered a kilo of scallops and he dragged a
small hand rake across the pile and onto a metal tray for the scale. A
closer look at the pile and I could see some of them were still moving,
proving them fresh caught from this morning. I suppose they were
gathered out of the Bohai Sea this morning and brought straight to the
old reservoir, which certainly proved to be an interesting place to
spend some time.
Lamb Soup
The Marx Brothers were known for their movie "Duck Soup"; the restaurant next door from here is known for its delicious lamb soup.
The restaurant has big, red letters in it's window that say 'yang tang' (样汤). You might think that means "Beware of Ram" considering there is a feeble-looking ram chained to a tree near the entrance. However, the letters do indeed mean lamb soup, and although that particular ram is still intact, I suspect there was a different one there last week.
In China, people like to see that their food is fresh. The best example is when Wal-Mart first opened in China and had to change from only "fresh frozen" seafood offerings and include tanks of live fish which customers could select and take home. In short, like the chicken soup I wrote about in this space before, seeing a live lamb, sheep, ram, whatever in front of a restaurant advertising lamb soup tells the customer here that it is only of the best, freshest quality.
We headed inside, grabbed a table and ordered a round of lamb soup. J's cousin also ordered a stir fry of green pepper and pork intestines, and then a tofu dish which, ironically, was hardly touched. The lamb soup is served with the broth kept rather bland since there is a bottle of vinegar and four different spices on the table with which to flavor it to your liking. I put in a good dose of vinegar, a bit of salt and pepper, a dash of chicken consommé and a spoonful of red pepper. The soup had different lamb bits in it, including cubes of congealed lamb blood, and after getting over the novelty of the whole thing, the taste was quite good. Everyone tried each others soup broth and J's cousin by far had the spiciest, but I thought best, balance of ingredients. I added some more black and red pepper to mine, and ate heartily, nibbling at the tofu and pork intestines too.
As we ate, we could hear a dog whimpering in the back somewhere. I'm always on the lookout for possible dog meat on a menu, but I was assured it was nothing of the sort. It turns out the owner was raising a puppy in the back, and he took us back to see a beautiful two-month old Husky. The dog was friendly and playful. I'm not much for petting dogs (especially ones I don't know), so I just snapped some pics of J's cousin playing with him.
As we left the restaurant, we awkwardly decided to pet the ram out front too, which I also have pictures of. I'm a bit hesitant to say, but I don't know if I'll be able to look back on that photo and not imagine dousing him with vinegar and red pepper.
The restaurant has big, red letters in it's window that say 'yang tang' (样汤). You might think that means "Beware of Ram" considering there is a feeble-looking ram chained to a tree near the entrance. However, the letters do indeed mean lamb soup, and although that particular ram is still intact, I suspect there was a different one there last week.
In China, people like to see that their food is fresh. The best example is when Wal-Mart first opened in China and had to change from only "fresh frozen" seafood offerings and include tanks of live fish which customers could select and take home. In short, like the chicken soup I wrote about in this space before, seeing a live lamb, sheep, ram, whatever in front of a restaurant advertising lamb soup tells the customer here that it is only of the best, freshest quality.
We headed inside, grabbed a table and ordered a round of lamb soup. J's cousin also ordered a stir fry of green pepper and pork intestines, and then a tofu dish which, ironically, was hardly touched. The lamb soup is served with the broth kept rather bland since there is a bottle of vinegar and four different spices on the table with which to flavor it to your liking. I put in a good dose of vinegar, a bit of salt and pepper, a dash of chicken consommé and a spoonful of red pepper. The soup had different lamb bits in it, including cubes of congealed lamb blood, and after getting over the novelty of the whole thing, the taste was quite good. Everyone tried each others soup broth and J's cousin by far had the spiciest, but I thought best, balance of ingredients. I added some more black and red pepper to mine, and ate heartily, nibbling at the tofu and pork intestines too.
As we ate, we could hear a dog whimpering in the back somewhere. I'm always on the lookout for possible dog meat on a menu, but I was assured it was nothing of the sort. It turns out the owner was raising a puppy in the back, and he took us back to see a beautiful two-month old Husky. The dog was friendly and playful. I'm not much for petting dogs (especially ones I don't know), so I just snapped some pics of J's cousin playing with him.
As we left the restaurant, we awkwardly decided to pet the ram out front too, which I also have pictures of. I'm a bit hesitant to say, but I don't know if I'll be able to look back on that photo and not imagine dousing him with vinegar and red pepper.
Four Hours
In the last four hours or so I've ingested the following:
1. coffee and a chocolate cupcake
2. sunflower seeds
3. a bowl of fresh strawberries
4. drinkable yogurt from Inner Mongolia
5. a bag of puffed corn (not popcorn) sold by a vendor at the local market, made in a contraption that looked like a cannon ball might shoot out of it.
6. grape juice
7. a grilled flour and egg wrap stuffed with scallions, and a fluffy, fried cracker with a spicy sauce (called jian bing guo zi) made by a street vendor
8. a flour wrap stuffed with stir-fried and salted shredded potato (called juan bing) made by J's mom
9. half a kilo of boiled scallops, also prepared by J's mom
10. celery, cabbage and minced pork won-ton soup, (yes, made by J's mom from scratch this morning. although I was full at that point, who is going to pass up won-ton soup? not I)
1. coffee and a chocolate cupcake
2. sunflower seeds
3. a bowl of fresh strawberries
4. drinkable yogurt from Inner Mongolia
5. a bag of puffed corn (not popcorn) sold by a vendor at the local market, made in a contraption that looked like a cannon ball might shoot out of it.
6. grape juice
7. a grilled flour and egg wrap stuffed with scallions, and a fluffy, fried cracker with a spicy sauce (called jian bing guo zi) made by a street vendor
8. a flour wrap stuffed with stir-fried and salted shredded potato (called juan bing) made by J's mom
9. half a kilo of boiled scallops, also prepared by J's mom
10. celery, cabbage and minced pork won-ton soup, (yes, made by J's mom from scratch this morning. although I was full at that point, who is going to pass up won-ton soup? not I)
Haircut
After nearly a month, I decided it was time for another haircut. I've
had my haircut in Brazil, Ethiopia, Thailand, Japan, of course the U.S.,
and now China. I figured that if a hairdresser in Addis Ababa can cut my
hair pretty well, a hip and savvy Chinese salon worker would have no
problem. And for less than $3 for a hair cut, I figured I'd give it a
shot (btw, that's the same as it cost in Ethiopia, whereas Brazil was
about $10, and Japan runs between $15 to $50 depending on where you go
of course).
We went to a shopping center that had three different hair salons right
across from each other to choose from. The first place we went to said
there was a 20 minute wait, so instead we went to the place next door,
which said they could take us right away.
The salon had a fair mix of men and women getting their hair cut or
colored. My hairdresser commented how amazing it was that my hair color
was natural, and said people would have to go through hours of bleaching
and coloring to even come close. J was translating for me, and she
mentioned that people in the States used to tell her that her jet-black
hair was so amazing. Sort of a grass is greener thing, yes.
The last thing I'll mention was his hair drying technique, which I'd
never experienced before. The cut turned out pretty good, and although
we told him I wouldn't need any wax or anything (we were just headed
home afterward) he gave my hair some lift by using the back end of the
dryer to suck the hair up (like a 'Flowbee', I think they were called;
the old haircut vacuum attachment).
Luckily the cut turned out pretty good. There's generally no tipping in
China, so we just thanked the staff, gathered our things and we were
off. But before heading home, we took a once around the shops with my
new do, just for good measure.
had my haircut in Brazil, Ethiopia, Thailand, Japan, of course the U.S.,
and now China. I figured that if a hairdresser in Addis Ababa can cut my
hair pretty well, a hip and savvy Chinese salon worker would have no
problem. And for less than $3 for a hair cut, I figured I'd give it a
shot (btw, that's the same as it cost in Ethiopia, whereas Brazil was
about $10, and Japan runs between $15 to $50 depending on where you go
of course).
We went to a shopping center that had three different hair salons right
across from each other to choose from. The first place we went to said
there was a 20 minute wait, so instead we went to the place next door,
which said they could take us right away.
The salon had a fair mix of men and women getting their hair cut or
colored. My hairdresser commented how amazing it was that my hair color
was natural, and said people would have to go through hours of bleaching
and coloring to even come close. J was translating for me, and she
mentioned that people in the States used to tell her that her jet-black
hair was so amazing. Sort of a grass is greener thing, yes.
The last thing I'll mention was his hair drying technique, which I'd
never experienced before. The cut turned out pretty good, and although
we told him I wouldn't need any wax or anything (we were just headed
home afterward) he gave my hair some lift by using the back end of the
dryer to suck the hair up (like a 'Flowbee', I think they were called;
the old haircut vacuum attachment).
Luckily the cut turned out pretty good. There's generally no tipping in
China, so we just thanked the staff, gathered our things and we were
off. But before heading home, we took a once around the shops with my
new do, just for good measure.
Wholesale
Sunday afternoon we decided to check out the local wholesale market,
located on the other side of the Dalian train station. It is a massive
complex jostling with people moving stuff on dollies, bringing in new
merch. The sellers are not hawking their goods, as you might imagine. I
suppose since it's a wholesale area, the people operating the shops can
be considered "suppliers" that take a more subdued middle-man attitude
than a shopkeeper who deals with the end-customer. We walked around
quite a bit, but after a couple of hours we still only saw a small
fraction of what is available: fruits, vegetables, nuts, seeds, booze,
meats, seafood, car seat covers, pots n' pans, batteries, kitchen
gadgets, beads, jewelry, stationary, clothes, clocks, telephones,
crochet kits, oil paintings, toiletries, and on and on. At the end of
the day, we didn't end up buying anything except for a bottle of mineral
water to quench our thirst after a long, but very interesting afternoon.
located on the other side of the Dalian train station. It is a massive
complex jostling with people moving stuff on dollies, bringing in new
merch. The sellers are not hawking their goods, as you might imagine. I
suppose since it's a wholesale area, the people operating the shops can
be considered "suppliers" that take a more subdued middle-man attitude
than a shopkeeper who deals with the end-customer. We walked around
quite a bit, but after a couple of hours we still only saw a small
fraction of what is available: fruits, vegetables, nuts, seeds, booze,
meats, seafood, car seat covers, pots n' pans, batteries, kitchen
gadgets, beads, jewelry, stationary, clothes, clocks, telephones,
crochet kits, oil paintings, toiletries, and on and on. At the end of
the day, we didn't end up buying anything except for a bottle of mineral
water to quench our thirst after a long, but very interesting afternoon.
Friday, February 18, 2011
Dinner with Classmates
My last day of Chinese class was on Friday. We had finished the first
textbook early--15 chapters in 4 weeks (and I arrived only for the last
2 weeks and had to catch up!!)--so the last two days we did Chapter 16
from the second textbook. That was done by 10:00, so for the rest of the
morning we watched the Disney movie "Mulan" in Chinese. I kept an eye on
the sub-titles and my ears open for words I could recognize, although I
have to say that there wasn't much in the 16 chapters we studied about
war tactics.
textbook early--15 chapters in 4 weeks (and I arrived only for the last
2 weeks and had to catch up!!)--so the last two days we did Chapter 16
from the second textbook. That was done by 10:00, so for the rest of the
morning we watched the Disney movie "Mulan" in Chinese. I kept an eye on
the sub-titles and my ears open for words I could recognize, although I
have to say that there wasn't much in the 16 chapters we studied about
war tactics.
In the evening, the Director and a few of the university staff and
volunteers took us out for dinner. We went to a restaurant nearby the
school and they ordered a massive amount of food and drinks. We sat at a
big, round table with a large, glass "lazy susan" in the center. After
everyone did a self-introduction in Chinese, the Director said a few
words to toast. We all held up glasses of Mons beer (from Harbin); in
most other countries I've been to, people sitting at large tables
struggle to clink glasses together, or give each other an understanding
nod, but in China they tap the glasses on the table a few times instead.
We commenced eating and drinking, and since all of the other students
were Japanese, there was a mixture of talk in Chinese and Japanese.
Near the end of the meal, the Director gave another toast, telling us to
all continue in our studies, and that we were all already great Chinese
speakers. Then she presented us with our course completion certificates.
They came in somewhat ornate envelopes, along with the group photo we'd
all taken together a few days prior.
We finished dinner and everyone walked out together. I bid the Director,
staff and other students farewell, as they were all headed back to the
school and the dorms, and I jumped on bus 708 back to Xishanshuiku. It
was the second night of the full moon, and out the window of the bus I
could see it looming large in the sky between the buildings. As the moon
begins to wane, so does our time in China, but it's certainly been an an
illuminating experience.
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Chinese Painting
Today I participated in a Chinese painting class at my school. The
teacher was obviously very talented with a brush, and he showed us
numerous examples of works he'd done himself or that he had in his
possession. I'm not really sure which, though, because he was speaking
in rapid-fire Chinese about a topic I know nothing about...and still
know nothing about, except that I've tried my hand at it. After almost
an hour of him "explaining" Chinese painting to a classroom full of
exchange students that probably didn't understand more than 10% of what
he was saying, we were given paper, a brush, some black ink and water.
Everyone did their best to draw a bamboo grove, with long, straight
strokes for the trunk of the bamboo, and then a few thin branches here
and there, with short, quick strokes for leaves. The teacher made it
look so easy. Mine was alright, although I think it was probably more of
a bamboo jungle than a sparse grove.
teacher was obviously very talented with a brush, and he showed us
numerous examples of works he'd done himself or that he had in his
possession. I'm not really sure which, though, because he was speaking
in rapid-fire Chinese about a topic I know nothing about...and still
know nothing about, except that I've tried my hand at it. After almost
an hour of him "explaining" Chinese painting to a classroom full of
exchange students that probably didn't understand more than 10% of what
he was saying, we were given paper, a brush, some black ink and water.
Everyone did their best to draw a bamboo grove, with long, straight
strokes for the trunk of the bamboo, and then a few thin branches here
and there, with short, quick strokes for leaves. The teacher made it
look so easy. Mine was alright, although I think it was probably more of
a bamboo jungle than a sparse grove.
New Year's ...Day? HA!
The Chinese must hear of other countries celebrating New Year's with a
bit of revelry, a countdown and maybe the Synge de Lang, along with one
day of rest and recoup on January 1st, and laugh at the simplicity of
it. The Chinese also celebrate the Gregorian New Year with the rest of
the world, but the big celebration is the lunar new year.
I'd heard before that it is comparable to Christmas in the States, where
people begin shopping the day after Thanksgiving (or even the evening of
Thanksgiving, from what I heard recently!) and keep their Christmas
trees up until sometime during, say, the first week of January. People
in China begin preparations for their New Year at least a week in
advance, and the 1st day of the new year--which is the first day of the
new moon--is just the start of official celebrations. It kicks off a
week of holiday from work, which is spent visiting with family and
friends. Most companies will start up again on the 7th day, blasting off
fireworks in the morning. Things are relatively quite again, until the
15th--the day of the full moon.
If anyone has any firecrackers or rockets still lying around, they are
all set off on the night of the first full moon of the year. J said that
no one lights even a sparkler after the 15th. So celebrations are out in
full force, maybe with almost as much force as on the 1st. Fireworks
blast off, bursting in the air, the blasts setting off car alarms around
the neighborhood.
So while Gregorian celebrations may countdown to midnight, in China it
is a minimum 15-day countdown. Happy New Year Days!
bit of revelry, a countdown and maybe the Synge de Lang, along with one
day of rest and recoup on January 1st, and laugh at the simplicity of
it. The Chinese also celebrate the Gregorian New Year with the rest of
the world, but the big celebration is the lunar new year.
I'd heard before that it is comparable to Christmas in the States, where
people begin shopping the day after Thanksgiving (or even the evening of
Thanksgiving, from what I heard recently!) and keep their Christmas
trees up until sometime during, say, the first week of January. People
in China begin preparations for their New Year at least a week in
advance, and the 1st day of the new year--which is the first day of the
new moon--is just the start of official celebrations. It kicks off a
week of holiday from work, which is spent visiting with family and
friends. Most companies will start up again on the 7th day, blasting off
fireworks in the morning. Things are relatively quite again, until the
15th--the day of the full moon.
If anyone has any firecrackers or rockets still lying around, they are
all set off on the night of the first full moon of the year. J said that
no one lights even a sparkler after the 15th. So celebrations are out in
full force, maybe with almost as much force as on the 1st. Fireworks
blast off, bursting in the air, the blasts setting off car alarms around
the neighborhood.
So while Gregorian celebrations may countdown to midnight, in China it
is a minimum 15-day countdown. Happy New Year Days!
How much H20?
I recently feel like I've entered the ranks of Jedi in hot water use.
This morning I managed to wash my hair, shave and make a cup of coffee
with about 5 cups of hot water I boiled on the stove-top. You see, on
account of the solar-only, roof-mounted hot water heater we have here,
it's more timely to do things this way. It's not something I'd want to
do all the time, but it's interesting for the time being.
This morning I managed to wash my hair, shave and make a cup of coffee
with about 5 cups of hot water I boiled on the stove-top. You see, on
account of the solar-only, roof-mounted hot water heater we have here,
it's more timely to do things this way. It's not something I'd want to
do all the time, but it's interesting for the time being.
We have a plastic bowl that fits in the bathroom sink, which I pour some
hot water into, and then mix with cold from the faucet until I get a
good temperature. I use just enough to wet and shampoo my hair, and I
don't mind a final cold rinse.
To shave, I fill a small cup halfway with hot water and mix with cold
again, and use a safety razor. I've always done it this way, actually,
so it's no big change.
Finally, I have a "french press" style coffee mug, so I put some coffee
grounds directly in the mug, pour in hot water, and then, after letting
it seep for a couple minutes, push a screen down to keep the grounds at
the bottom of the mug.
I'm so used to having "all the hot water I need" that I never really
think about it. The same goes for electricity and other amenities, such
as internet. When I've gone to developing countries, I remember being
surprised by the frequent blackouts (sometimes--such as in
Ethiopia--planned during certain hours on a neighborhood basis due to
seasonal shortages), the occasional lack of running water and going back
to using dial-up on occasion. Here in China, the electricity and water
is always available, wi-fi is more of a rarity, but internet is readily
available. The lack of constant hot water during these winter months
(for reasons I outlined in more detail previously) has reminded me, once
again, that until we develop our infrastructure and utilities to run
efficiently (and year-round) on renewable sources, that we need to be
more conscious consumers both when out shopping and at home.
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Wedding Anniversary
The other day, J and I celebrated our wedding anniversary. The week before we had been walking around downtown and decided to suss out some places where we might have a nice dinner to celebrate, and maybe even stay in a nice hotel downtown. We checked out the 4 and 5 star hotels in the vicinity of the central square, Zhongshan Guangchang (中山广场), such as the Shangri-La, the Furama, the Ramada and the Bohai Pearl. After taking a tour of the hotel restaurants and seeing some of the rooms, we made our decision and ended up making a booking at Dalian's newest five-star, the Intercontinental at Friendship Square (Youhao Guangchang).
On our special day, J met me at DUFL-School of Chinese Studies, which is near one of the old Japanese sections of town. There are lots of Japanese restaurants in the area, so we went to a place called "Man" (萬: meaning "10,000" or bountiful, I suppose). J had a sashimi and tempura lunch set and I had the grilled mackerel (shioyaki sanma) set, both of which were excellent, and ended up costing less than we'd probably spend for the same meal in Japan.
After lunch, we found the weather had taken a turn for the worse. It was snowing and bitterly cold outside, which put a cramp in our plans to head over to the old Russian section of town and check out the art center there. At the same time we realized that we'd forgotten to bring the credit card that we were planning to use to pay for our lavish dinner and room at the Intercontinental. So we jumped on a bus and went back to J's place, where her parents were surprised to see us back. We explained what happened, grabbed the card, warmed up a bit, and then headed back out.
The dinner at Cafe 6 at the Intercontinental was amazing, and we felt all the more pampered since we were the only two people in the restaurant. Since it was still during the official Chinese new year holiday, most people were still outside of the city and no one was making business trips that would require staying at such a hotel. So J and I chose any table in the place and had about 4 people waiting on us the entire evening.
We took our time and enjoyed the atmosphere, along with a bottle of white wine we'd brought from Japan (which the staff kindly chilled and served for us), a dish of farfalle bow-tie pasta di mare with calamari, and a roasted rack of lamb with a rosemary breading, followed by some creme brulee for dessert.
Our room was like a small apartment, located in the corner of the hotel with massive windows overlooking Zhongshan Square. We woke up early the next morning to see the sunrise over the Bohai Sea beyond the nearby port, and soon after 7am, from the 34th floor, we saw a number of companies blasting off spectacular firework displays in the middle of downtown to start off their first day back in business in the new year. Back at Cafe 6, we enjoyed a maddeningly diverse buffet breakfast with everything from smoked salmon and capers and cheese platters to dim sum Chinese dumplings to pancakes and pitchers of fresh juice.
It was heart-aching to have to leave for my Chinese class after that, but J stayed at the hotel for the late check out, taking advantage of the wifi network and desk in the room to get some work done, looking like a high-powered executive perched in a penthouse. After my class, I came back and met her at the hotel and, with the weather looking better that day, we did manage to make it over to the old Russian street.
It was an anniversary to remember and I hope we can celebrate future ones even half as well.
On our special day, J met me at DUFL-School of Chinese Studies, which is near one of the old Japanese sections of town. There are lots of Japanese restaurants in the area, so we went to a place called "Man" (萬: meaning "10,000" or bountiful, I suppose). J had a sashimi and tempura lunch set and I had the grilled mackerel (shioyaki sanma) set, both of which were excellent, and ended up costing less than we'd probably spend for the same meal in Japan.
After lunch, we found the weather had taken a turn for the worse. It was snowing and bitterly cold outside, which put a cramp in our plans to head over to the old Russian section of town and check out the art center there. At the same time we realized that we'd forgotten to bring the credit card that we were planning to use to pay for our lavish dinner and room at the Intercontinental. So we jumped on a bus and went back to J's place, where her parents were surprised to see us back. We explained what happened, grabbed the card, warmed up a bit, and then headed back out.
The dinner at Cafe 6 at the Intercontinental was amazing, and we felt all the more pampered since we were the only two people in the restaurant. Since it was still during the official Chinese new year holiday, most people were still outside of the city and no one was making business trips that would require staying at such a hotel. So J and I chose any table in the place and had about 4 people waiting on us the entire evening.
We took our time and enjoyed the atmosphere, along with a bottle of white wine we'd brought from Japan (which the staff kindly chilled and served for us), a dish of farfalle bow-tie pasta di mare with calamari, and a roasted rack of lamb with a rosemary breading, followed by some creme brulee for dessert.
Our room was like a small apartment, located in the corner of the hotel with massive windows overlooking Zhongshan Square. We woke up early the next morning to see the sunrise over the Bohai Sea beyond the nearby port, and soon after 7am, from the 34th floor, we saw a number of companies blasting off spectacular firework displays in the middle of downtown to start off their first day back in business in the new year. Back at Cafe 6, we enjoyed a maddeningly diverse buffet breakfast with everything from smoked salmon and capers and cheese platters to dim sum Chinese dumplings to pancakes and pitchers of fresh juice.
It was heart-aching to have to leave for my Chinese class after that, but J stayed at the hotel for the late check out, taking advantage of the wifi network and desk in the room to get some work done, looking like a high-powered executive perched in a penthouse. After my class, I came back and met her at the hotel and, with the weather looking better that day, we did manage to make it over to the old Russian street.
It was an anniversary to remember and I hope we can celebrate future ones even half as well.
Cats and Dogs
There are plenty of stray cats in Japan, although I hardly ever saw a
stray dog. In the States, stray animals are usually picked up by the
pound, and attempts are made at adoption. In China, however, I see
plenty of stray cats and dogs; they are not overrunning the streets, but
they're ubiquitous enough for me to notice. Today on my way to school I
saw, possibly for the first time "live" (i.e. not in a cartoon), a cat
being chased by a dog. The dog was actually smaller than the cat, and
the whole ordeal looked somewhat playful. But two other dogs, seeing
their comrade making his case against the feline, decided to get in on
the action. So picture, if you will, a nimble cat high-tailing it around
a corner followed by a pint-sized mutt and two scruffy friends.
stray dog. In the States, stray animals are usually picked up by the
pound, and attempts are made at adoption. In China, however, I see
plenty of stray cats and dogs; they are not overrunning the streets, but
they're ubiquitous enough for me to notice. Today on my way to school I
saw, possibly for the first time "live" (i.e. not in a cartoon), a cat
being chased by a dog. The dog was actually smaller than the cat, and
the whole ordeal looked somewhat playful. But two other dogs, seeing
their comrade making his case against the feline, decided to get in on
the action. So picture, if you will, a nimble cat high-tailing it around
a corner followed by a pint-sized mutt and two scruffy friends.
Doting Dad
Since 1979 the Chinese government has insisted that its citizens will only have one child. The one-child law has received plenty of attention, especially when it comes to the adoption of little (supposedly "unwanted") little Chinese girls by people in the U.S. I suspect that the incentive to make these daughters-of-China available to potential parents in the U.S. has more to do with economics than a gender preference, although there is something to be said for parental expectations in terms of whether they will raise a boy or a girl; given the quota of one child for your entire lifetime, I find myself sympathetic without condoning a straight-out gender preference.
However, before I get too far off on a tangent, this post is not about gender so much as it is about doting parents. The little boys in China are popularly known as "Little Emperors" (小皇帝: xiao huangdi) because their parents put their full and complete energy into raising them with every ounce of their being. I saw this first-hand the other day on the bus when a young boy of about 10 years of age and his father got on one stop after me. All the seats were taken, but the father found a good spot for his son to stand and then proceeded to stand behind his son in a protective stance to make sure the boy didn't get jostled too much as the bus lurched and swayed down the avenue.
The man and his son got off the bus one stop before me and I watched out of the corner of my eye as the man steadied his son poised toward the exit, then hanging on to him and I suppose telling him to wait until the bus slowed down before they headed for the door. Then, as the bus came to a sudden halt, the father lost his footing slightly and ended up knocking his son to the floor of the bus. It was the last thing the man meant to do, but he lost control. The son looked embarrassed beyond belief, quickly picked himself up and they both shuttled themselves off the bus. I watched out the window as the man tried to make amends with his son, reaching to give the boy an encouraging pat on the back. But the boy would have no more of this father's doting, and pulled himself away repeatedly.
In the U.S., this would be seen as nothing more than an example of an overbearing parent, but in the context of the 30 year old birthing restriction in China, it is common enough I'm sure. As for little girls in China, there are plenty of them and they are doted on all the same. Amy Chua's "Tiger Mother" book, and accompanying article in the WSJ, has received plenty of attention for a Chinese mother's role as the Rule Enforcer, and on the bus I saw the mother's counterpart: the doting dad who would give the world to his baby, even if it means he sometimes loses his own footing in the process.
However, before I get too far off on a tangent, this post is not about gender so much as it is about doting parents. The little boys in China are popularly known as "Little Emperors" (小皇帝: xiao huangdi) because their parents put their full and complete energy into raising them with every ounce of their being. I saw this first-hand the other day on the bus when a young boy of about 10 years of age and his father got on one stop after me. All the seats were taken, but the father found a good spot for his son to stand and then proceeded to stand behind his son in a protective stance to make sure the boy didn't get jostled too much as the bus lurched and swayed down the avenue.
The man and his son got off the bus one stop before me and I watched out of the corner of my eye as the man steadied his son poised toward the exit, then hanging on to him and I suppose telling him to wait until the bus slowed down before they headed for the door. Then, as the bus came to a sudden halt, the father lost his footing slightly and ended up knocking his son to the floor of the bus. It was the last thing the man meant to do, but he lost control. The son looked embarrassed beyond belief, quickly picked himself up and they both shuttled themselves off the bus. I watched out the window as the man tried to make amends with his son, reaching to give the boy an encouraging pat on the back. But the boy would have no more of this father's doting, and pulled himself away repeatedly.
In the U.S., this would be seen as nothing more than an example of an overbearing parent, but in the context of the 30 year old birthing restriction in China, it is common enough I'm sure. As for little girls in China, there are plenty of them and they are doted on all the same. Amy Chua's "Tiger Mother" book, and accompanying article in the WSJ, has received plenty of attention for a Chinese mother's role as the Rule Enforcer, and on the bus I saw the mother's counterpart: the doting dad who would give the world to his baby, even if it means he sometimes loses his own footing in the process.
Monday, February 14, 2011
Card
Tonight we played cards. I'm not sure what game it is that we played,
but it's the game that everyone here in China seems to play. The four of
us sat on J's parents' bed with a cushion in the middle which we put the
cards on. In the game, you pair up with the person sitting across from
you, so I was paired up with J's mom, who incidentally seems to be the
best player. We did fairly well, although J and W did throw down quite a
few good hands. In the end, after about an hour or so, we called it a
wrap. I think I have a handle on the basic rules now though, so I'm
ready for the next round, which knowing China's love for card games,
won't be too far down the road.
but it's the game that everyone here in China seems to play. The four of
us sat on J's parents' bed with a cushion in the middle which we put the
cards on. In the game, you pair up with the person sitting across from
you, so I was paired up with J's mom, who incidentally seems to be the
best player. We did fairly well, although J and W did throw down quite a
few good hands. In the end, after about an hour or so, we called it a
wrap. I think I have a handle on the basic rules now though, so I'm
ready for the next round, which knowing China's love for card games,
won't be too far down the road.
Saturday, February 12, 2011
Xi'an Square
Yesterday after my Chinese class, I went out with some of the other students. Two of the guys were leaving that evening to travel around China a bit (Beijing, Qingdao, Tenjin) before going back home to Korea. A lot of the students here are Japanese, actually, so we ended up going to a Japanese restaurant, which everyone agreed made great food.
After that, one of the Japanese guys, NT, joined me and we met up with J and two of her friends at the Xi'an Square shopping district. Dalian has a lot of public squares, and many of them are the center of shopping districts, so the city is pretty much built around that structure. Xi'an Square is not too far from J's place, so we've been there a few times.
We stopped at Uniqlo, a Japanese clothing store (maybe similar to the Gap?) which is currently pretty popular in China, so that my friend NT could buy some warmer undershirts. Then J and her friends went to the kids toys and book shops. NT has been studying Chinese for a bit over a year, and has become a pretty good speaker, but J's friend was quizzing us on a few things in the kids books, like the names of fruits and vegetables in Chinese.
After that, we had dinner in the shopping center, everyone getting different dishes and trying everything. Everyone agreed that the one J's friend picked out, a spicy Shichuan noodle dish, was the best tasting. We washed it all down with some Qingdao/Tsingtao beers and I had a chance to practice my Chinese some more.
After that, one of the Japanese guys, NT, joined me and we met up with J and two of her friends at the Xi'an Square shopping district. Dalian has a lot of public squares, and many of them are the center of shopping districts, so the city is pretty much built around that structure. Xi'an Square is not too far from J's place, so we've been there a few times.
We stopped at Uniqlo, a Japanese clothing store (maybe similar to the Gap?) which is currently pretty popular in China, so that my friend NT could buy some warmer undershirts. Then J and her friends went to the kids toys and book shops. NT has been studying Chinese for a bit over a year, and has become a pretty good speaker, but J's friend was quizzing us on a few things in the kids books, like the names of fruits and vegetables in Chinese.
After that, we had dinner in the shopping center, everyone getting different dishes and trying everything. Everyone agreed that the one J's friend picked out, a spicy Shichuan noodle dish, was the best tasting. We washed it all down with some Qingdao/Tsingtao beers and I had a chance to practice my Chinese some more.
Friday, February 11, 2011
Bath House Attendant
I was thinking today, while at the bath house again, that there are just too many things in an average day here that I would never see or experience anywhere else. For example, I wrote before about the bath house attendant that offers patrons a "cuo hui" body rub. Today, as I was in the shower, he had finished with one patron and decided to light up a cigarette. I don't think I've ever been in the shower with someone smoking before.
Then, as I was leaving the shower room, I looked over to the other side of the room where there was a door open to another area. Inside was a pile of garbage. There is a restaurant in the same building as the bath, so maybe it was a separate entrance to the restaurant's dumping area? That's the only explanation I could think of.
As I was changing after my shower, the attendant went into the break room, which is located next to the changing room. A few minutes later he came out wearing pajamas. Another patron who had gotten half dressed and then decided to smoke a cigarette in his underwear asked the attendant, "Ji dian ma?/What time is it?", and he answered "7 dian". I glanced inside the break room and saw that there were blankets on the sofa in there. I finished changing, put on my coat, and went out to wait for J in the sitting area next to the front desk.
As I sat on a long bench, in front of me on the floor was a massive rice cooker. Steam was billowing out of it, and every time someone would come in or out of the building, letting in cool air, the steam would seem to fill the whole room, along with the smell of freshly cooked rice.
Like I said, there are too many things like this in any given day.
Then, as I was leaving the shower room, I looked over to the other side of the room where there was a door open to another area. Inside was a pile of garbage. There is a restaurant in the same building as the bath, so maybe it was a separate entrance to the restaurant's dumping area? That's the only explanation I could think of.
As I was changing after my shower, the attendant went into the break room, which is located next to the changing room. A few minutes later he came out wearing pajamas. Another patron who had gotten half dressed and then decided to smoke a cigarette in his underwear asked the attendant, "Ji dian ma?/What time is it?", and he answered "7 dian". I glanced inside the break room and saw that there were blankets on the sofa in there. I finished changing, put on my coat, and went out to wait for J in the sitting area next to the front desk.
As I sat on a long bench, in front of me on the floor was a massive rice cooker. Steam was billowing out of it, and every time someone would come in or out of the building, letting in cool air, the steam would seem to fill the whole room, along with the smell of freshly cooked rice.
Like I said, there are too many things like this in any given day.
Dalian International Tennis Center
I don't know what was international about the tennis center we went to
today, although I heard that one of their instructors lived overseas for
a while and can speak English. However, J and I decided to forgo a
lesson today and just rent a court for ourselves. It was the first time
we've played tennis together, and I was impressed how well she returned
the ball; we even had a few fairly good rallies.
We had the court for two hours and were pretty tired afterward, but it
was fun. We also saw that they have badminton courts, which seemed to be
more popular. On our way out, J asked at the front desk if those courts
are usually open during the week. The guys said they are, so we might go
back sometime in the next week.
today, although I heard that one of their instructors lived overseas for
a while and can speak English. However, J and I decided to forgo a
lesson today and just rent a court for ourselves. It was the first time
we've played tennis together, and I was impressed how well she returned
the ball; we even had a few fairly good rallies.
We had the court for two hours and were pretty tired afterward, but it
was fun. We also saw that they have badminton courts, which seemed to be
more popular. On our way out, J asked at the front desk if those courts
are usually open during the week. The guys said they are, so we might go
back sometime in the next week.
Cop Shop
Today we passed by a local police station when riding a bus. The bus
stopped at a red light in front of the station for a few moments and I
could see that inside were two (off duty?) cops playing ping pong in one
of the rooms. The curtains were drawn open but the windows were slightly
foggy, so they must have been working up a sweat in there. In fact,
after a moment, I realized that one of them was wearing a sleeveless
t-shirt and the other on was completely shirtless.
stopped at a red light in front of the station for a few moments and I
could see that inside were two (off duty?) cops playing ping pong in one
of the rooms. The curtains were drawn open but the windows were slightly
foggy, so they must have been working up a sweat in there. In fact,
after a moment, I realized that one of them was wearing a sleeveless
t-shirt and the other on was completely shirtless.
Wednesday, February 09, 2011
Art Exhibit and Russian Street
On Thursday afternoon J and I headed over to the Russian Street of
Dalian. It is just on the north side of town, so we met at Friendship
Square and walked over. It was pretty cold out so the first thing we did
was to check out the Dalian Art Exhibition Hall, located at the top of
the street. It looks like a luxurious old home, and judging from the
interior, J and I suspect it was built by the Japanese at some point.
Inside there are three exhibition rooms; two on the first floor and one
on the second floor (there was also a 3rd floor which was closed for
some reason). The exhibition featured a number of "oil on canvas"
paintings of towns in southern China. We found out later that a number
of artists from Dalian went down for a tour last October to paint their
impressions of the town. Some of the paintings were rather detailed,
showing sunlight gradation against buildings, and some were awesomely
abstract with thick brushstrokes of oil. We really enjoyed the entire
exhibit and I even opted to buy a book of the paintings, which they were
selling at the entrance for just a dollar or so.
After the exhibit, we walked down Russian Street. Most of the buildings
are no longer in use. Many of them must be a hundred years old or more.
There was a stone plaque near the entrance to the street that had the
date 1898 chiseled into it. The design was apparent in the colors, the
windows, and the facades, but mostly in the rooftops; some rose up like
steeples and one expanded out above the building like a jiffy-pop. We
snapped some photos as we walked down the street, then turned around and
headed back downtown. The temperature seemed to be dropping and we
hurried to catch the bus back home.
Dalian. It is just on the north side of town, so we met at Friendship
Square and walked over. It was pretty cold out so the first thing we did
was to check out the Dalian Art Exhibition Hall, located at the top of
the street. It looks like a luxurious old home, and judging from the
interior, J and I suspect it was built by the Japanese at some point.
Inside there are three exhibition rooms; two on the first floor and one
on the second floor (there was also a 3rd floor which was closed for
some reason). The exhibition featured a number of "oil on canvas"
paintings of towns in southern China. We found out later that a number
of artists from Dalian went down for a tour last October to paint their
impressions of the town. Some of the paintings were rather detailed,
showing sunlight gradation against buildings, and some were awesomely
abstract with thick brushstrokes of oil. We really enjoyed the entire
exhibit and I even opted to buy a book of the paintings, which they were
selling at the entrance for just a dollar or so.
After the exhibit, we walked down Russian Street. Most of the buildings
are no longer in use. Many of them must be a hundred years old or more.
There was a stone plaque near the entrance to the street that had the
date 1898 chiseled into it. The design was apparent in the colors, the
windows, and the facades, but mostly in the rooftops; some rose up like
steeples and one expanded out above the building like a jiffy-pop. We
snapped some photos as we walked down the street, then turned around and
headed back downtown. The temperature seemed to be dropping and we
hurried to catch the bus back home.
Book cover
They say not to judge a book by its cover. I suppose the same holds true for teachers. My Chinese teachers, I've noticed, have worn the same outfits every day this week. This is not to say anything about their character, and they are certainly good teachers. But I remember I used to chuckle at the Chemistry professor I had at university that wore sneakers stained green from mowing his lawn. Now I must concede, one should not judge a teacher by its cover. Nevertheless, my main teacher Wang Laoshi, wears a black sweater with a yellow stripe going across it. It is sort of like the opposite of a Charlie Brown shirt. Which is sort of ironic because sometimes Chinese sounds a lot like the teacher in the Peanuts cartoons: Woah wah wah woah wah wah wah.
Bus
Taking a bus in Dalian is pretty common, and luckily they come often. Wherever the bus driver decides to stop is where people clamor to get on, and it's not always in front of the bus stop. Sometimes there is already a bus stopped there, so people will run back to where the other bus is approaching. Then the bus driver will stop, open the door and everyone climbs on. There's no sense of people lining up, and you have to be a bit cut-throat; if you always yield to others trying to get on, of course you'll be the last one on the bus.
Our closest bus stop, Xishan Shuiku (西山水库, meaning west-mountain-reservoir), is pretty far from the city-center, but that means that it's often possible to get a seat. J's mom gave me an electronic bus pass that you touch to a receiver near the driver, and it shows you the amount left on the pass. I think each ride is only about 0.50 yuan, so there is enough for about 100 rides on the pass I have.
Our closest bus stop, Xishan Shuiku (西山水库, meaning west-mountain-reservoir), is pretty far from the city-center, but that means that it's often possible to get a seat. J's mom gave me an electronic bus pass that you touch to a receiver near the driver, and it shows you the amount left on the pass. I think each ride is only about 0.50 yuan, so there is enough for about 100 rides on the pass I have.
Tangential Encounter
As we were readying our departure from Japan, J and spoke with a friend of mine, Ei, who also happens to be from Dalian originally. She now lives in the Tokyo area with her husband, but they had planned to be in Dalian for the Chinese New Year. When we heard that, we exchanged numbers so we could contact each other in Dalian and promised to get together.
On Saturday, the four of us met for lunch, and decided to have a nabe lunch, which is a pot fired with coals to boil a light broth into which you put in various ingredients, which in our case was: napa cabbage, mushrooms, tofu, and lots of mutton. We also ordered a few bottles of beer to celebrate the occasion.
It was great to see Ei and also to have a chance to get to know her husband better, since they were just married recently, and J and I had only met him at their wedding (and there wasn't much of a chance for small-talk there).
Although it's a shame we won't be able to see them as often as when we were living in Tokyo, we were all excited about the fact that there would likely be opportunities to meet again in the future in Dalian when we are all back to visit family.
The world is certainly becoming more interconnected, and we are enjoying the tangential encounters that come with it.
On Saturday, the four of us met for lunch, and decided to have a nabe lunch, which is a pot fired with coals to boil a light broth into which you put in various ingredients, which in our case was: napa cabbage, mushrooms, tofu, and lots of mutton. We also ordered a few bottles of beer to celebrate the occasion.
It was great to see Ei and also to have a chance to get to know her husband better, since they were just married recently, and J and I had only met him at their wedding (and there wasn't much of a chance for small-talk there).
Although it's a shame we won't be able to see them as often as when we were living in Tokyo, we were all excited about the fact that there would likely be opportunities to meet again in the future in Dalian when we are all back to visit family.
The world is certainly becoming more interconnected, and we are enjoying the tangential encounters that come with it.
Dalian University of Foreign Languages
On Monday I started my Chinese classes at Dalian University of Foreign Languages (DUFL). The school was established in 1864 and has a reputable School of Chinese Studies. I'm taking the short-course, for which the university publishes its own textbook. Although I came to the 4-week course partway through, I found that my independent studies prepared me well enough to keep up with the other 4 students: two Korean university students, a young Japanese "salary-man" and a Japanese retiree.
We are moving through the text book quickly though, doing nearly one chapter every day in the 3.5 class hours. My main teacher, Wang lăoshī ("teacher Wang"), is an excellent instructor. She keeps the class moving along at a quick pace, but pauses enough for us to take notes and follow along. We have a lot of time for listening, but she also makes sure we have a lot of time for speaking and practicing role-plays with other students. I feel like I learned more in the first day of this class than I did in the months of studying on my own, although that probably helped me prepare to hit the floor running, so-to-speak.
The biggest challenge is by far reading the Chinese characters (as opposed to the phonetic pinyin characters I've relied on up til now), but having studied Japanese at least lessens the blow. In many instances, the characters are a good visual cue to remember a word, especially since the same character can be used in different words (i.e. the character for "study", 学 xué, is used in school, student, and the verb to study -- 学校 xuéxiào，学 生 xuésheng，and 学习 xuéxí) and is always pronounced the same way.
In any case, I have another week or so of classes before the course is completed, at which point I'll receive a certificate. Until then, the reward has been that I can actually communicate on my own a little bit now, which comes in pretty handy sitting at the dinner table every night here. With J having been my interpreter, she is probably glad that she has a bit more time to actually eat and not say everything twice.
We are moving through the text book quickly though, doing nearly one chapter every day in the 3.5 class hours. My main teacher, Wang lăoshī ("teacher Wang"), is an excellent instructor. She keeps the class moving along at a quick pace, but pauses enough for us to take notes and follow along. We have a lot of time for listening, but she also makes sure we have a lot of time for speaking and practicing role-plays with other students. I feel like I learned more in the first day of this class than I did in the months of studying on my own, although that probably helped me prepare to hit the floor running, so-to-speak.
The biggest challenge is by far reading the Chinese characters (as opposed to the phonetic pinyin characters I've relied on up til now), but having studied Japanese at least lessens the blow. In many instances, the characters are a good visual cue to remember a word, especially since the same character can be used in different words (i.e. the character for "study", 学 xué, is used in school, student, and the verb to study -- 学校 xuéxiào，学 生 xuésheng，and 学习 xuéxí) and is always pronounced the same way.
In any case, I have another week or so of classes before the course is completed, at which point I'll receive a certificate. Until then, the reward has been that I can actually communicate on my own a little bit now, which comes in pretty handy sitting at the dinner table every night here. With J having been my interpreter, she is probably glad that she has a bit more time to actually eat and not say everything twice.
The Kite Sitter
Last Sunday I went out with J's dad, W, to walk around the park and stretch our legs. We walked up to the base of the dam at the far end of the park, where W threw one of his legs up on a low branch of a tree and started, literally, stretching his leg. I did the same, although I'm clearly not as flexible as I used to be. I often see people around Dalian stretching, and in fact, saw one middle-aged woman waiting for a bus this morning kicking her legs up in the air like a pro; she could probably kick herself in the teeth if she wanted to. Anyway, W is not quite that flexible, but he does pretty well. I gave both my legs a good stretch too, and then we jumped up and grabbed two higher branches and began swinging, to stretch our arms. W swung his legs back and forth.
On the way back through the park, we saw a man sitting on a small stool flying a kite. He looked content sitting there holding the string, which was wrapped around an H-frame spool. W asked the man something, and I couldn't understand their entire conversation, but I think it went something like this:
"Wow, you're flying a kite"
(no response)
"You come here every week? I live nearby."
(no response)
"Here, have one of my cigarettes."
"No, no, I have my own." (he takes out a cigarette with his free hand)
"Then let me light it for you." (after which...) "Let my friend hold the kite for you while you smoke."
W's plan seemed to work, and he takes the spool, which the older man somewhat reluctantly surrenders, and brings it over to me to hold. The kite is high, high up in the air, and W shows me how to unspool the string even more. This catches the attention of two young boys, maybe 12 or 13 years old, standing nearby. One comes over to me and asks me in pretty respectable English, "What nationality are you?" He had clearly learned this in school, but it rolled off his tongue with ease. I answered in English and he seemed pretty happy. W asked him what feng zheng is in English, and after a moment of thought, the boy said, "kite," then turned to me and said, "Play kite."
Soon after, we gave the kite spool back to the older man, who had warmed to us slightly by that point, and I shook his hand saying thank you, "xie xie ni." He smiled back, and then took a seat back on his stool, fixing a contented look on his face again.
On the way back through the park, we saw a man sitting on a small stool flying a kite. He looked content sitting there holding the string, which was wrapped around an H-frame spool. W asked the man something, and I couldn't understand their entire conversation, but I think it went something like this:
"Wow, you're flying a kite"
(no response)
"You come here every week? I live nearby."
(no response)
"Here, have one of my cigarettes."
"No, no, I have my own." (he takes out a cigarette with his free hand)
"Then let me light it for you." (after which...) "Let my friend hold the kite for you while you smoke."
W's plan seemed to work, and he takes the spool, which the older man somewhat reluctantly surrenders, and brings it over to me to hold. The kite is high, high up in the air, and W shows me how to unspool the string even more. This catches the attention of two young boys, maybe 12 or 13 years old, standing nearby. One comes over to me and asks me in pretty respectable English, "What nationality are you?" He had clearly learned this in school, but it rolled off his tongue with ease. I answered in English and he seemed pretty happy. W asked him what feng zheng is in English, and after a moment of thought, the boy said, "kite," then turned to me and said, "Play kite."
Soon after, we gave the kite spool back to the older man, who had warmed to us slightly by that point, and I shook his hand saying thank you, "xie xie ni." He smiled back, and then took a seat back on his stool, fixing a contented look on his face again.
Bath House
There's a bath house (yù chí) nearby J's parents' place that I go to time to time for a hot shower. When you walk in, there's an attendant behind a desk, whom you pay beforehand, and then he gives you a pad lock and key. The men's bath is to the left, and the women's is to the right, with a very small sitting area where there is a sofa and two chairs in between.
I find a locker in the men's changing area, disrobe, put on a pair of flip-flops, and take my shampoo and body soap into the shower room. Before the showers, there is a room with two large baths. I've only ever seen one or two people in there, although the baths are big enough to fit a half-dozen people each. Past the baths is the shower room where there are about 8 shower heads on the far wall.
To the right is an area for what is called "cuō huī", where patrons lie on a padded table/massage bed and an attendant rubs them down with a rough cloth to remove dead skin. Although J says the Chinese characters for cuo hui are almost never written, the characters (搓灰) literally mean "to roll dust". I've never heard of the practice in America, but I know it's also popular in Japan (aka suri), and I've heard in Korea too. In fact, I had this done at a spa in Japan once and found it thoroughly uncomfortable. J doesn't like having the attendant do it either, but she says lying on that table where everyone else does is even more unpleasant, so she brings her own rough-material "cuo hui glove" to the bath house and does it herself.
I don't linger in the shower too long, and after about 10 minutes I'm usually back in the changing area. In the middle of the changing area is a large, square, padded platform where people sit to, say, put on their socks. I have no idea how often the platform is cleaned and it's usually wet in places where people have either sat or put down their basket of shampoo, etc. So I struggle to dry off and put on my clean clothes while standing, usually putting on my socks first so I can stand on my shoes. It's a bit of an awkward dance, but I have managed to do this with more and more efficiency each time. Before long, I'm dressed, coat and all, and squeaky clean.
I find a locker in the men's changing area, disrobe, put on a pair of flip-flops, and take my shampoo and body soap into the shower room. Before the showers, there is a room with two large baths. I've only ever seen one or two people in there, although the baths are big enough to fit a half-dozen people each. Past the baths is the shower room where there are about 8 shower heads on the far wall.
To the right is an area for what is called "cuō huī", where patrons lie on a padded table/massage bed and an attendant rubs them down with a rough cloth to remove dead skin. Although J says the Chinese characters for cuo hui are almost never written, the characters (搓灰) literally mean "to roll dust". I've never heard of the practice in America, but I know it's also popular in Japan (aka suri), and I've heard in Korea too. In fact, I had this done at a spa in Japan once and found it thoroughly uncomfortable. J doesn't like having the attendant do it either, but she says lying on that table where everyone else does is even more unpleasant, so she brings her own rough-material "cuo hui glove" to the bath house and does it herself.
I don't linger in the shower too long, and after about 10 minutes I'm usually back in the changing area. In the middle of the changing area is a large, square, padded platform where people sit to, say, put on their socks. I have no idea how often the platform is cleaned and it's usually wet in places where people have either sat or put down their basket of shampoo, etc. So I struggle to dry off and put on my clean clothes while standing, usually putting on my socks first so I can stand on my shoes. It's a bit of an awkward dance, but I have managed to do this with more and more efficiency each time. Before long, I'm dressed, coat and all, and squeaky clean.
Saturday, February 05, 2011
Planning for the Present
With a population of 6 million plus, Dalian is a huge city. China is part of the trend of populations moving toward urban areas, which will require the cities here to continue to morph into new entities as time goes on. It also means that there are very few stand-alone homes, and most people live in pseudo-condominium buildings. A great thought experiment to demonstrate the population of China was pointed out by James Fallows recently which says that, since China and the United States are about the same size in terms of land, to get 1.3 billion people into the boarders of the U.S. you would have to add the populations of Canada and Mexico, in addition to all of South America's population... and since that still wouldn't be enough, add in the populations of Nigeria and Japan. That is roughly what China is dealing with in terms of population.
So what does this mean for urban planning, construction plans and current-but-constantly-changing living conditions? The building J's parents live in was probably built about 15 years ago, but there is already talk of tearing it down and rebuilding. That is partially because of the constant urban re-planning going on for the reasons given above. It is also because the construction methods and materials have advanced considerably in the past decade. For example, around ten years ago they bought a hot water heater that is completely solar. It is a round container made of metal mounted on the roof of the building. Environmentalists (like myself) are excited by the fact that the water is heated entirely by solar energy, but there are days--particularly in winter--where there is not enough hot water to take a shower. For comparison, when we went to J's uncle's place, which he bought in 2007, he showed us his solar-electric hybrid hot water system. That said, in winter, depending on what you've done that day or have planned for the next day, taking a shower every single day may not really be necessary--and I am fine with that. People will plan their living conditions according to what they are comfortable with.
However, in China, they seem to take this a step further. To illustrate, in the States, the value of a condominium will be relative to the interior design and conditions, so that two units in the same building are not necessarily the same value. In China, there is no appraisal of individual units based on their condition or features; apparently the value is based on area. That means that if and when this building--or any other--is torn down for "urban re-planning", the government will reimburse the residents only the area-based value. The residents that invested in, say, a hybrid hot water heater are not given any more than people with a straight-solar heater, or even a unit with no water heater at all. Everyone gets the same amount of money, or the option to move to a designated unit elsewhere (maybe of comparable value, but usually further away from the city center). Therefore, to an American accustomed to a condo unit being appraised according to its individual merits, this system seems de-centivize residents to invest in their unit at all. When I posed this to J, she said that the cost for home improvement, or even complete interior reconstruction, was minimal due to the low cost of labor and building supplies, so the responsibility was reasonably put on the individual to match their living conditions to what they are comfortable with for the present. I can accept that, but still wouldn't be happy with that were I a resident of Dalian. If there is even the smallest possibility that the government can tell me to relocate, I would want to be reimbursed for the investments I'd made in a unit. But the Chinese system seems to simply encourage planning for the present, and leave it at that.
So what does this mean for urban planning, construction plans and current-but-constantly-changing living conditions? The building J's parents live in was probably built about 15 years ago, but there is already talk of tearing it down and rebuilding. That is partially because of the constant urban re-planning going on for the reasons given above. It is also because the construction methods and materials have advanced considerably in the past decade. For example, around ten years ago they bought a hot water heater that is completely solar. It is a round container made of metal mounted on the roof of the building. Environmentalists (like myself) are excited by the fact that the water is heated entirely by solar energy, but there are days--particularly in winter--where there is not enough hot water to take a shower. For comparison, when we went to J's uncle's place, which he bought in 2007, he showed us his solar-electric hybrid hot water system. That said, in winter, depending on what you've done that day or have planned for the next day, taking a shower every single day may not really be necessary--and I am fine with that. People will plan their living conditions according to what they are comfortable with.
However, in China, they seem to take this a step further. To illustrate, in the States, the value of a condominium will be relative to the interior design and conditions, so that two units in the same building are not necessarily the same value. In China, there is no appraisal of individual units based on their condition or features; apparently the value is based on area. That means that if and when this building--or any other--is torn down for "urban re-planning", the government will reimburse the residents only the area-based value. The residents that invested in, say, a hybrid hot water heater are not given any more than people with a straight-solar heater, or even a unit with no water heater at all. Everyone gets the same amount of money, or the option to move to a designated unit elsewhere (maybe of comparable value, but usually further away from the city center). Therefore, to an American accustomed to a condo unit being appraised according to its individual merits, this system seems de-centivize residents to invest in their unit at all. When I posed this to J, she said that the cost for home improvement, or even complete interior reconstruction, was minimal due to the low cost of labor and building supplies, so the responsibility was reasonably put on the individual to match their living conditions to what they are comfortable with for the present. I can accept that, but still wouldn't be happy with that were I a resident of Dalian. If there is even the smallest possibility that the government can tell me to relocate, I would want to be reimbursed for the investments I'd made in a unit. But the Chinese system seems to simply encourage planning for the present, and leave it at that.
Whole Chicken
The other night we all sat down at the family table for dinner around a large pot of chicken soup. It had some carrots and cloud-ear mushrooms in the broth with big chunks of chicken--in fact, the whole ji rou. I immediately identified two chicken feet floating in the mix, oddly crumpled into a loose "fist" complete with protruding, pointy toe nails. Having walked through a Chinese grocery store before, I wasn't surprised by the feet (they have big bags of chicken feet sold separately in the freezer section), and, according to hearsay, the feet are quite tasty. Nevertheless, I stuck with the more familiar looking parts.
I grabbed a good looking chunk of meat with my chopsticks and pulled it to my bowl. Looking at it, I thought it looked a bit knobby, almost like a knee or something since it was slightly curved. Then I turned it around and saw something that--to a Westerner--was like a scene out of the Twilight Zone. A pale chicken head, eyes and beak closed yet intact, was planted between my chopsticks. I resisted the urge to plop it straight back into the soup, but there was no way I was going to pop it into my mouth either. I turned to J and gave a quizzical look, which she interpreted correctly and right away, "Give it to my dad." I passed it over to W with a smile, and he proceeded to bite into it without a second thought.
J explained that having the whole chicken included is a sign of a good soup. It says, in a sense, that the chef didn't skimp. I can appreciate that, and I can even imagine that the various parts might even taste great. Even if I could get over the eerie idea of having a chicken foot or head in my mouth, however, having to chew through it and spit out the toe nails or the beak seems like way too much work to me. Maybe it is the Midwesterner speaking in me, but I prefer my food to be free of small bones. That's probably why grilled fish is not very popular in Chicago, but sushi seems to have made a significant splash. And I venture to say that chicken head will never grab much of a market in Chicago, except, of course, in Chinatown.
I grabbed a good looking chunk of meat with my chopsticks and pulled it to my bowl. Looking at it, I thought it looked a bit knobby, almost like a knee or something since it was slightly curved. Then I turned it around and saw something that--to a Westerner--was like a scene out of the Twilight Zone. A pale chicken head, eyes and beak closed yet intact, was planted between my chopsticks. I resisted the urge to plop it straight back into the soup, but there was no way I was going to pop it into my mouth either. I turned to J and gave a quizzical look, which she interpreted correctly and right away, "Give it to my dad." I passed it over to W with a smile, and he proceeded to bite into it without a second thought.
J explained that having the whole chicken included is a sign of a good soup. It says, in a sense, that the chef didn't skimp. I can appreciate that, and I can even imagine that the various parts might even taste great. Even if I could get over the eerie idea of having a chicken foot or head in my mouth, however, having to chew through it and spit out the toe nails or the beak seems like way too much work to me. Maybe it is the Midwesterner speaking in me, but I prefer my food to be free of small bones. That's probably why grilled fish is not very popular in Chicago, but sushi seems to have made a significant splash. And I venture to say that chicken head will never grab much of a market in Chicago, except, of course, in Chinatown.
Wednesday, February 02, 2011
Mother of Invention
The Chinese are credited with inventing a number of things, such as paper, the compass and gunpowder. On the Chinese New Year, it also becomes abundantly clear that it was the Chinese who invented fireworks.
We wanted to wait until midnight to set off our own, but at 10:30 our feet got itchy and we went outside to the courtyard with strings of firecrackers, sparkler sticks and sparkler cones. Before we got down to celebrating, W had prepared a small ceremony for his deceased parents. As is tradition at New Year's, people burn pieces of yellow paper that represent money in memory of those who have already passed. We found a spot in the street where W put down the papers, which he had folded in a way so that they would burn easily and completely, and then lit the pile on fire. Looking down the street, there were a number of other families doing the same. One couple a few yards away from us were burning a large pile of the paper money, and as the wife tended to the flames with a long stick, the husband set out a long string of firecrackers and two roman candle boxes, one on each side of the street. When the flames were almost out, he lit the firecrackers and one of the roman candles.
The day had been filled with the sounds of firecrackers, but the evening, so close to midnight, was a true display of new year's celebration. Fireworks shot up into the sky from just down the street, maybe 200 feet into the air but it seemed like more. It burst into a display that perfectly explains why the word for "firework" in Chinese, yen-hua, is composed of the two characters for "fire" and "flower".
Such revelry would never be permitted in Japan for fear of disorder and possibly house fires. Many states in the U.S. long ago outlawed personal use of fireworks, for safety and to keep the peace. However, one can hardly imagine trying to quell the neighborhood fireworks here. The air is filled with smoke, there are lights and sounds all around. People are out in the streets, although the children watch from windows. The elderly watch tv with their families, which features musicians, comedians and magic artists, which seems like the only channel available. There is even an English translation provided, and J tells me that the show is broadcast around the world. I have only seen the show in China, but times are changing. Many of the people featured on the show are certainly talented, and the Chinese are, afterall, the mother of invention.
We wanted to wait until midnight to set off our own, but at 10:30 our feet got itchy and we went outside to the courtyard with strings of firecrackers, sparkler sticks and sparkler cones. Before we got down to celebrating, W had prepared a small ceremony for his deceased parents. As is tradition at New Year's, people burn pieces of yellow paper that represent money in memory of those who have already passed. We found a spot in the street where W put down the papers, which he had folded in a way so that they would burn easily and completely, and then lit the pile on fire. Looking down the street, there were a number of other families doing the same. One couple a few yards away from us were burning a large pile of the paper money, and as the wife tended to the flames with a long stick, the husband set out a long string of firecrackers and two roman candle boxes, one on each side of the street. When the flames were almost out, he lit the firecrackers and one of the roman candles.
The day had been filled with the sounds of firecrackers, but the evening, so close to midnight, was a true display of new year's celebration. Fireworks shot up into the sky from just down the street, maybe 200 feet into the air but it seemed like more. It burst into a display that perfectly explains why the word for "firework" in Chinese, yen-hua, is composed of the two characters for "fire" and "flower".
Such revelry would never be permitted in Japan for fear of disorder and possibly house fires. Many states in the U.S. long ago outlawed personal use of fireworks, for safety and to keep the peace. However, one can hardly imagine trying to quell the neighborhood fireworks here. The air is filled with smoke, there are lights and sounds all around. People are out in the streets, although the children watch from windows. The elderly watch tv with their families, which features musicians, comedians and magic artists, which seems like the only channel available. There is even an English translation provided, and J tells me that the show is broadcast around the world. I have only seen the show in China, but times are changing. Many of the people featured on the show are certainly talented, and the Chinese are, afterall, the mother of invention.
Tuesday, February 01, 2011
New Year's Entertainment
After nightfall, J's dad and I went outside to do a few sparklers and
set off our own string of firecrackers. Once we'd added to the
soundscapade of the evening, we took a seat at a small table in the
courtyard and set about trying to communicate in my limited Chinese. We
made rather good progress, all things considered, before agreeing that
we'd reached the limits of our lingual abilities without J being present.
We headed back upstairs and J's mom opened the door and handed us some
decorations to paste to the front door, as is tradition every New
Year's. We peeled off last year's New Year's banners and plastered on
the new ones, taking care to make sure we didn't paste over the
peep-hole in the door. I noted the neighbors had done the same by
cutting a hole in the banner running down the center of their door.
Luckily we had a decorative cut-out piece that we could strategically
place so that the peep-hole was unobstructed.
Then we headed back indoors and sat in front of the television. Every
year there is a New Year's program which features dances from the
various ethnic groups, such as Inner Mongolians, and the western and
southern minorities, some of which resemble Indian dances rather than
anything most Americans would identify with China. But this is a large
and diverse country, and the Chinese celebrate this at every opportunity
with lavish stage shows--as seen at the 2008 Olympic show. The dances
are akin to a Cirque du Soleil performance, although one could argue
these are the more authentic of the two; nevertheless, they are in a
similar spirit. The audience, both on television and on sofas across the
nation, put their hands together and applaud the well-practiced and
astonishing performances. As midnight nears, the fireworks and
firecrackers signal the sense of revelry throughout the country.
set off our own string of firecrackers. Once we'd added to the
soundscapade of the evening, we took a seat at a small table in the
courtyard and set about trying to communicate in my limited Chinese. We
made rather good progress, all things considered, before agreeing that
we'd reached the limits of our lingual abilities without J being present.
We headed back upstairs and J's mom opened the door and handed us some
decorations to paste to the front door, as is tradition every New
Year's. We peeled off last year's New Year's banners and plastered on
the new ones, taking care to make sure we didn't paste over the
peep-hole in the door. I noted the neighbors had done the same by
cutting a hole in the banner running down the center of their door.
Luckily we had a decorative cut-out piece that we could strategically
place so that the peep-hole was unobstructed.
Then we headed back indoors and sat in front of the television. Every
year there is a New Year's program which features dances from the
various ethnic groups, such as Inner Mongolians, and the western and
southern minorities, some of which resemble Indian dances rather than
anything most Americans would identify with China. But this is a large
and diverse country, and the Chinese celebrate this at every opportunity
with lavish stage shows--as seen at the 2008 Olympic show. The dances
are akin to a Cirque du Soleil performance, although one could argue
these are the more authentic of the two; nevertheless, they are in a
similar spirit. The audience, both on television and on sofas across the
nation, put their hands together and applaud the well-practiced and
astonishing performances. As midnight nears, the fireworks and
firecrackers signal the sense of revelry throughout the country.
Ear-plugs or Ear-phones
On the final day of the Chinese year, firecrackers begin bursting at 7am. They continue throughout the day in small cracks, pops, and sometimes massive, pounding bursts. There are those that are endless sizzling fizzles and plenty with staccato bravado. It is a sign of the joyous event that is upon us, as over 1.3 billion people bring in the New Year on at midnight. It reminds me of the 4th of July when I was a kid when, more than a professional show downtown, we would look for backyard fireworks bursting in the neighborhood skyline. Yet, here in China, after hours of this, sitting sleepily on the sofa after a big lunch, it has begun to sound more like gunfire and mortars exploding nearby. Hence the title of this post. The earplugs only soften the kaboom, and music certainly has a nicer melody, but celebration knows no silence. As night falls, there is a lightshow to accompany the crash and bang of merrymaking.
Today is the 30th on the Chinese lunar calendar. However, as we approach midnight, the word used for "new year", chūnjié, is used. Today, J's cousin taught me the phrase: Chunjie chi jiao zi, which means "On new year's, we eat dumplings". Although, I must confess, we've been eating dumplings since the 29th--who can resist!
When we wake tomorrow, chunjie continues, but it is also referred to as chūyí, literally "the first (day)". The first is the day to wish your relatives and friends a happy new year, giving us the phrase: Chuyi guo nian hao. This is accompanied by a gesture holding your hands in front of your chest, with your left hand in a fist covered with your right hand.
And thanks to that, I might never have to take out my earplugs.
Today is the 30th on the Chinese lunar calendar. However, as we approach midnight, the word used for "new year", chūnjié, is used. Today, J's cousin taught me the phrase: Chunjie chi jiao zi, which means "On new year's, we eat dumplings". Although, I must confess, we've been eating dumplings since the 29th--who can resist!
When we wake tomorrow, chunjie continues, but it is also referred to as chūyí, literally "the first (day)". The first is the day to wish your relatives and friends a happy new year, giving us the phrase: Chuyi guo nian hao. This is accompanied by a gesture holding your hands in front of your chest, with your left hand in a fist covered with your right hand.
And thanks to that, I might never have to take out my earplugs.
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