Food

Kindred Spirits in Quindao

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Walking by the Foreign Language Bookstore in Quindao, just up the street from my comfy clean hotel room that a tout from the railroad station led me to…80 yuan she says..that’s about $10..I look in to see what they have in English. Most of the books are in Chinese…the English selection is tiny with dreadful choices and high prices. Just then I see the first westerners I have seen in Quindao walk in…where are you from, I ask…from the Gold Coast of Australia…oh, I find Australians everywhere…yes, she laughed…we manage to find our way all over the world! These women have just arrived from Shanghai where they participated in the masters section of an international dragon boat competition. One, Tye, is a nurse…the other, Leah, a school janitor. Dragon boat racing, they said, originated in China but is very popular in Australia.

Are you alone, they ask. When I say yes, their eyes light up…oh good, then would you like to come with us? Of course I jump at the chance. I show them where the internet cafe is that I had walked all over town looking for and finally found that morning by accident as there was no sign on the outside of the building. And I give them a card for the hostel I stayed at in Beijing which delighted them no end.

We have dinner together…the women pass up tubs of all kinds of shellfish to choose from on the sidewalk in front of tiny restaurants with only two or three tables…and finally choose to have “hot pot” that sits on top of a flame with your choice of all kinds of fish from the sea…a dozen different kinds of clams, little crab, shellfish we have never seen before, various unknown kibbles and bits, leafy vegetables, thin sliced mutton or pork, as much as you could eat for 29 yuan or about $6. One of the women is a bit nervous about all the unknown bits…but we laugh it off and make a complete mess on the table…the big Chinese group at the next table finding our clumsy adventure quite funny.

The next evening they showed up at my hotel door….we just showed the Chinese girls at the desk downstairs “big hair” they said…and the girls immediately knew who they were looking for…besides the fact of course, that we were all westerners…we must all know each other! They shared some wonderful chewy sweetened dried fish with me and needed me to show them how to do email so off we went out into the evening again.

My last evening in Quindao, at a 4 star hotel coffee shop, I invite the friendly waiter who has been letting me use the hotel’s free WIFI with my laptop to have dinner with me…seafood soup and jousa (dumplings)… before he has to go to his university classes at 7pm. Jack is his English name given to him by his English teacher and I find myself wishing Chinese English teachers would get a little up-to date with the English names they hand out. Jack, Han Chinese, is from Urumqi in the largest and most western province in China…Xinjiang…which has a majority of muslim Turkic speaking people. His family still lives there. He is 23 but says he is not a good student. I ask why and he says he likes sports…he would rather play American football! I say, what!! He says it’s a sport young people like but his parents don’t. I say, yes, I understand! I ask if he plays basketball and mention Yao Ming’s name…he dismisses Yao…”oh, if I were 7 feet tall I would be famous too!”

I let Jack order…he is anticipating a soup with “all kinds of shellfish from the sea” but when it comes it’s basically an eggflower soup with only a few little bits of shrimp and clam. He looks disappointed and I realize he has never done this before. The soup is only 6 yuan…less than a dollar. But Jack only makes $200 a month and I wonder what this skinny kid eats every day. At his bus stop we shake hands with lingering looks and he invites me to come back to Quindao again.

I have a hard sleeper booked on the train today at 1:30. I will arrive in Shanghai tomorrow about 9 am when I will book a dorm bed for 100 yuan…about $12. Right now this hotel I am in is celebrating a wedding with drums and a funky dragon made of balloons. The dragon lies down and the groom carries her over it and into the elevator…the ceremony will continue downstairs.

Great Days Great Wall

Posted on by Laughingnomad

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E found the website (www.wildwall.com) and the adventure offered intriguing potential…off the beaten track, away from the Chinese tourist groups that follow a guide with a microphone and colored flag held high in the air to designate location. After two short emails to William, arrangements were easily made and in the lobby of our Beijing guesthouse I met with the driver (No English) who carried a placard for “Mr. Bob.” After smiles and incomprehensible introductions his black auto carried us through a three-hour adventure negotiating Beijing traffic…bikes, pedestrians, tractors, donkey carts all navigate the same lanes, avenues, freeways where the basic rule is ” Bigger Has The Right of Way.” As throughout Asia, good brakes, good horn and good luck prevails.

My understanding was that we were to pick up another couple but as we finally exited Beijing for the countryside I began to make an alternative plan if perhaps this was an abduction…the imagination can wonder…

We finally entered mountain terrain and the pavement ended. After another 20 minutes we arrived at a small village surrounded by hills We parked and I carried backpack uphill to a courtyard surrounding a small idyllic farmhouse. There was evidence of other foreigners. William casually came out of the farmhouse and introduced himself. An Aussie couple, attired in the hippest of trek fashion had already arrived and they and I completed our trekking group. Subsequently I appreciated their humor, enthusiasm and good cheer and we shared good times and laughs.

After being shown my room, the first of many superb meals was served. Lily was William’s Chinese helper and sous chef…fresh trout in a spicy (picante) sauce. After the meal Schnapps was offered (an acquired taste I guess) and I learned that William was in his late forties, formerly from Liverpool England, but has lived in China for the past 15 years. He has a Chinese spouse and two sons. He is a former long distance runner, who because of his fascination with the Great Wall as a child, later decided to run it’s length. After an initial abortive try he was subsequently able to run most of the wall in the early 1990’s and it has since become his passion. He has authored several books, spear-headed environmental efforts and has become the local expert/personality/guru of all things Great Wall. On our hikes, whenever we were passed by local Chinese hikers he would be recognized and asked to pose for pictures. His affect was such that he always obliged with a smile and some Mandarin conversation.

For the next two days we arose at 5 a.m. and took off in darkness for a 4-6 hour trek that included a significant climb up to the Great Wall and then excursions for varying lengths of time on top of the wall. We were able to stand on the wall and observe the sunrise. Along the way there would be frequent stops for short antidotes or explanations of various aspects of the wall–its history, construction, functions etc.

The Wall was initially started in about 400 BC and continued until the Ming Dynasty (approximately 1600 AD). It was built in sections to protect the Han Chinese from the Northern nomads (Mongolian and Manchu). Initial construction was at points of obvious invasion routes…river valleys…and through the years the Wall was extended up the sides of the valleys and across mountain ranges. It is not one continuous structure but various branches meander and double back. Initial construction was simple but later architectural efforts became more sophisticated.
In c. 220 B.C., under Qin Shi Huang, sections of earlier fortifications were joined together to form a united defence system against invasions from the north. Construction continued up to the Ming dynasty (1368–1644), when the Great Wall became the world’s largest military structure. Its historic and strategic importance is matched only by its architectural significance and is a UNESCO World Heritage Site.

The areas we traversed were constructed of large carved stones, kilned bricks and morter which contained rice. As well as security, the Wall was used for storage, shelter and as a highway. It varied in width from two yards to 10 yards. In the area we were in, there has been no restoration and time and erosion have caused crumbling in many parts with an overgrowth of vegetation both on the sides and on top. It would seem that any minor earthquake could produce serious additional damage. William said his ecologic efforts have produced minimal results to date and he has been happy just to see that his efforts have caused fewer Chinese to litter. Ideally it would seem that stabilization against future damage without restoration would be the way to proceed. But the Wall is so long (estimates vary from 7000 to 10,000 kilometers) that total protection is impossible.

On descent: as frequently happens on hikes there is time for thought, reflection and subsequent contentment…and coming off the Great Wall of China in brisk warm autumn days a few magical to mystical moments. On one occasion while walking solo I heard leaves rustling in the trees –only a few colored leaves remained on each tree. Looking up the leaves would twirl on one tree then sequentially on another– like a self-conducted symphony—only in China. When I asked William whether his operation had reached a size sufficient for an assistant he replied, “I think I will see you again.”

The Tajik and Olga

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The Tajik and Olga
In Irkutsk, when we find our seats on the train to Ulaan Baatar, we find a good-looking 40 year old Muslim man from Tajikistan in our cabin. He has studied English in school when he was a boy by showing us how tall he was, and remembers a few words. He shows us pictures of his wife and four kids back at home in Tajikistan. We show him pictures on the computer of our trek in 1996 in Kyrgzstan although aware that the Kyrgeez and Tajiks don’t really like each other very much.

We are able to figure out that he is returning to Ulaan Baatar to operate a “caterpillar” at a gold mine after a three-month summer break with his family. We soon put our sausage and cheese and bread on the little table and he pulls out his bottle of Vodka. He is charming and has a wonderful smile and a quick laugh…I like this man.

The next day Olga, an energetic middle-aged blond, begs to move from her assigned seat near the toilet at the end of the carriage so she joins us…immediately kicking the mellow Tajik up to the top bunk and spreading her belongings from one end of the cabin to the other. Fluent in English, she says she gave up her doctoral studies in Chemistry in 1993 because there was no work in her field, to become an entrepreneur and she makes the trip to Mongolia and China every few months to buy merchandise…”everything for health” she says. She instructs us where to get a cheap hotel in Beijing and gives me an empty bottle to have the Chinese traditional pharmacist fill for my psoriasis.

Soon she and the Tajik are really going at it in Russian…the bluster again…and I ask her what they are talking about. Olga is incensed: “He leaves his wife in Tajikistan to work in another country but when I ask him if she works he says no she has to stay at home and only leave when she is with him!” This goes on for awhile and is actually quite entertaining to watch…then she non-plusses Bob by showing him a picture of man (XY) and woman (XX) and showing him that with an unfinished “X” (referring to the “Y” that “there is a mistake!” When he objects she says “well maybe women are more clever. He just looks at her.

Forest Mushrooms and Vodka

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The night before we leave St. Petersburg, Elena and her childhood friend, Dula, breathlessly excited, bring home bags and boxes of forest mushrooms. Bob and I haven’t eaten and we hope the noises coming from the kitchen mean we will be invited to join them for a meal.

Finally, Elena knocks on the door saying “10 minutes! 10 minutes…come!” When Elena says “I must go out first, I smell a rat and grab my purse to join her. “I am buying the vodka,” I insist, glad I had my wits about me on this one at least! The four of us sit down to the little table set with her best for a wonderful meal of musky black mushrooms stewed with potatoes and “grass” salad…toasting with Vodka, (Bob with water because he doesn’t like the taste of alcohol) every few minutes. Bob and I gratefully hit the sack, leaving the two to themselves to finish off the bottle late into the night.

Our last night in St. Petersburg, we invite Elena and Dula to their favorite restaurant (an inexpensive one we never would have found ourselves) for Shashlik of beef, pork and lamb, eggplant appetizers, “grass” salad with tomatoes, cheese, olives and cucumbers, “beautiful water with gas from the Caucasus mountains” and more vodka…all the while entertained by a resident karaoke singer singing traditional Russian songs and served by a lovely man who treats us all like extended family.

Afterward we buy Elena a bottle of Tequila and she gives me a knit neck scarf and a Russian nesting doll. Dula gives me a little bag of mushrooms she dried herself. We all hug and reluctantly leave for a midnight overnight train that will arrive at 8am in Moscow.

On The Street In St Petersburg

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We hail down a minibus, just like we did in Viet Nam, which takes us across the Neva River to Nevsky pr (like Rodeo Drive in LA which has to have some of the most expensive stores in the world) where we peer into windows…looking for T-shirts..and graffiti. View image Hungry, we walk some steps down to the door of the Propaganda Cafe only because we are illiterate in the Russian Cyrillic alphabet and the restaurant thankfully has a menu in English. We find out later the Propaganda is a chain of expensive cafes all over the city catering to Westerners…a young Brit behind us is on the phone trying to peddle cheap tables to someone who seems skeptical.

We find a Georgian restaurant that night (with a “river” running through it, stained glass windows and walls carved with Georgian motifs) and relish traditional mutton and cabbage stew, stuffed peppers and sweet cheese blinis for dessert. Next to our table are three men, I imagine to be closing a business deal, toasting with vodka and chasers of cranberry juice at every shake of the hand (of course between multiple mobile phone calls).

The ‘Venice of the North’, with its numerous canals and more than 400 bridges, is the result of a vast urban project begun in 1703 under Peter the Great. Later known as Leningrad (in the former USSR), the city is closely associated with the October Revolution. Its architectural heritage reconciles the very different Baroque and pure neoclassical styles, as can be seen in the Admiralty, the Winter Palace, the Marble Palace and the Hermitage. It is a UNESCO World Heritage Site.

St. Petersburg Homestay

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A Homestay has been arranged for us by our tour company, White Knights, with Elena who lives in (and owns) a 3 room very cluttered flat four flights up in a poorly maintained government building in the heart of St. Petersburg. The muddy alleyway leading to the door of the building is stewn with garbage and open manholes with rats…the chipped stairs, plaster peeling off the filthy walls, broken windows and a smell like damp cat litter in the air testament to the lack of resources and care. It’s a typical apartment house.

“We pay good money to the government for upkeep of the building, she says, but they do nothing!” Elena is a dear and makes sure we are comfortable in our room with two single beds…thin pieces of foam on cheap frames. Elena lives alone…she gets her married daughter who speaks English on the phone to make sure we have all our questions answered and who tells us she will be meeting a student at the apartment the next day to give him an English lesson. He tells us he is an ice skater who will be competing internationally and that he “must have English.”

Elena, who is a retired mathematics teacher only gets $17 a month retirement. She goes to work each day but it is not exactly clear what she does. Most nights she stays with her daughter or comes in very late.

She opens the small refrigerator and shows us eggs and bread we can use to make our breakfast each morning. There is virtually no other food in the tiny kitchen except some wonderful cherry jam and coffee and tea. I don’t think she means for us to eat very much. She shows us how to use the pitcher water purifier which we use to make coffee for ourselves in a small French coffee press she has on her counter.

That evening we find a neighborhood cafe where I nostalgically enjoy “lamb cooked with bones” and Lagman Soup (mutton stew with noodles) just like we had on a trek in the mountains of Khrgystan several years ago.

Traki, Karaites & Kibini Pastry

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Trakai, on the outskirts of Vilnius, Lithuania, is a small settlement placed in the middle of five large lakes that is home to about 350 members of the Keraites, a minority community originally from Mesopotamia (modern day Iraq) who later migrated to Turkey. Keraite literally means “reader”. Their religion is a form of early Judaism mixed with reading of the Koran. (Imagine that !!—maybe we should inquire whether they have insights for current situations.)

Traki used to be one of Lithuania’s many capitals and the Keraites served as guards to the palace/castle…which Bob wanted to buy and occupy. We tasted the Karaites’ traditional dish called Kibinine, a small piping hot pastry stuffed full of delicious chopped meat and onions…juice squirting down one’s arms with each bite.

In an area selling crafts I met a woman who was exclaiming over two drunk locals…I asked her what country she was from and she said “San Francicsco.” She went on to say she was enjoying herself “but they won’t take our dollars here!” Speechless, I decided against asking if she had thought of visiting a money exchange window.

Ruili China

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Coming down out of the mountains we were happy to see Ruili lying in the green lush valley below…a larger city than I thought…a Chinese/Burma border town with a mix of Han Chinese, minorities and Burmese traders hawking jade and various smoking substances. The streets were not all marked in Pinyin…the communist-designed phonetic romanization of the spelling of Chinese characters…and we spent half the afternoon looking for a hotel listed in the Lonely Planet guidebook before we finally registered at a hotel owned by the Chinese water and electric company, Li Shui, meaning Sweet Water.

That night we found a Burmese street restaurant and ordered five dishes and an alcoholic cherry drink all for a little over two dollars. Back at the hotel, we fell into bed exhausted…but were furiously wakened at various intervals during the night…by prostitutes hoping to find male foreigners!

December 26
The next day after eating breakfast noodles in the market we walked down an ancient cobblestone road to the old part of Riuli called Mengmao where a lovely old man fell into step with us along the way. He took us first to see the elaborate carving of the concrete grave monuments. Huge modular slabs of decorated concrete were being fitted together at one factory after another along the road for single and double graves. Then we walked up the hill to his own grave site where he waved us good-bye.

That night on the way from the Gem Market, five middle school students (about 17 years old) started talking to us as we walked along…hello…where are you from…what is your name…our English names are Zhong (John), Paul, Fantasy, Do Na and Steven…can we help you…listen to us…we have a good idea…all of us ending up eating delicious Burmese fried dumplings and egg cake and exchanging email addresses at a Burmese restaurant. About 10:00pm we were all on our way home when Zhong remembered it was his birthday…

listen to us…we have a good idea…catching up to us and bringing us all back to his parent’s home for cake with light delicious frosting. Then we all struck out for home again…the kids reassuring us that when their parents found out that they had been practicing their English with a couple of foreigners that the parents wouldn’t be angry about the late hour.

“Listen to us…we have a good idea!” So early the next morning the kids picked us up at the hotel and took us in the fog to their school to show us around but the headmaster was already visiting with some Japanese visitors so the guard wouldn’t let us enter. The school was out that day so the students could practice their dances in preparation for the “city party” which would celebrate the tenth year that Ruili had been designated as a “city.”

We asked the kids why the schools always had the names written on them in English…the country had joined the World Trade Organization (WTO) they said and wanted foreigners to come visit the schools.

Then again…listen to us…we have a good idea…as we went to a brand new internet room that was offering free internet on this it’s first day in operation…on the way buying us french fries with chili and a little plastic sack full of Asian Pear relish. We ate Over The Bridge Noodles for lunch…the waitress bringing to the table a tray of thin sliced meats and vegetables and noodles to be “cooked” in a very hot bowl of broth. That afternoon we all took a taxi to the Ruili City Park near the Ruili River (or the Irrawaddy River to the Burmese) where you could see Burma across the river.

While watching hundreds of students acting out various Chinese stories in the dances and music, Jana and I think we must have talked to every young person in Ruili who wanted to practice their English…do you like music…what is your favorite rock band…our favorite band is HOT (High-five Teenagers) from Korea…do you know what high-five means…then I showed them high-five which they liked..then I asked do you know the “brother” handshake like most young people give each other in America but this was met with blank faces and was going nowhere…we like American country-western music they said…we like John Denver and in our last English class we learned about The Carpenters…do you like pets…dogs or cats…do you like sports…we like sand volleyball…and tennis…and PingPong…Paul saying the Chinese weren’t as good at PingPong as they used to be…I like swimming…Jana said she liked running…Fantasy saying oh, that’s too hard…

listen to us…we have a good idea…

But we fled back to our hotel in a tuk-tuk before the afternoon was over…our throats hoarse from talking…and drank a Budweiser with a Chinese label in the warm sun in the backyard patio of the hotel.

The next morning, relieved not to be traveling by bus, we caught a plane to meet Bob in Kunming where we would proceed on to Chengdu Sichuan Province the next day by train. The only event of note on the train was my losing my sixth pair of reading glasses while bending over the squat toilet…hearing the clink and catching a glimpse of tortoise shell as they clinked down the metal pipe to the tracks below.

Echo & Li…Competitors

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Monday Dec 9 2002
In Old Town Lijiang, we are woken up by a knock at the hotel door at 8am. Two couples from Taiwan were on their way to Zhondian with a driver and wanted to know how we found the city. Then we breakfasted at Sakura Cafe.

Later, we moved to Mr. Yang’s Inn, a brand new beautiful guesthouse right on the canal where, playing with Fifi, his Lijiang dog and Debu, a pure white 3 month old Beijing puppy, we saw a large group of young people with chef’s hats on walking through the streets…we followed them until they ended up at an orphanage with children whose parents (600 people) did not survive the 1996 earthquake and more than 16,000 people were injured. Turns out we had happened onto a celebration.

On the way we passed a group of men building a traditional Naxi structure…with pegs…no nails. They had a roast pig on the spit…a traditional way to celebrate the birth of a new building, we are told.

Dinner at Sakuras…a western hang-out…guy at table next to us was from Eugene. I said we made a big mistake going home in February! He laughed and said he wasn’t going home until spring to avoid the Oregon winter.

Bob arrived in Lijiang from Dali by 1pm on bus but we didn’t connect. We were communicating via email; he told me to meet him the next day at noon in the Square. Bob couldn’t follow my directions to our hotel so he got one of his own in a Naxi Family House for Y80 or about $10 per night; tiny but very clean with 24-hour hot water.

In the meantime, Jana had gone to one internet cafe and I had gone to another at Sekura’s because there was no room for me. Thirsty, I drank a 40 oz beer while answering email…and feeling quite good, I emailed Jana and told her she should join me in another beer. Later she told me she laughed out loud reading my email.

Tuesday Dec 10
Breakfast in the cold courtyard of our hotel…Naxi fried bread with chives, rice porridge with pork, steamed bun, eggs, stir fried cabbage and coffee. I worked on my journal sitting in my heated bed while Jana washed her hair.

Later, Jana and I ran into Echo and invited her to eat with us…meeting Bob in the town square. Jana and I didn’t know it, but Bob had arranged for us to meet with Li, a Naxi minority woman Bob had hired to take us to the gorge the next day and to take us to a Naxi music concert after dinner. Echo, a city-bred Chinese Han from Beijing, bristled when Li walked up to our table in the restaurant. Li tried to talk Bob and I into watching a Chinese play instead of listening to Naxi music…the previous client of hers from Illinois liked the play much better than the music, she said! Echo, whispering in my ear, insisted she just wanted the higher commission on the play but we persisted in getting to listen to the music. I would find out later that Han Chinese look down on the ethnic minorities…feeling very superior to them. And Echo was horning in on one of the few jobs Naxi people can get that isn’t scut work…as tour guides.

Then there was a mixup on the seats at the concert…some Chinese patrons made us get up and give our seats to them…then Bob questioned whether we actually had Y50 seats…so Li offered for us to move up to the front. But as the concert had already started and we didn’t want to disturb the others, we declined.

Don’t know why we bothered with the consideration…others were coming and going and talking out loud with each other as they pleased during the whole concert.

Lijiang & The Naxi People

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Once in Lijiang, we dumped our luggage at the Shangira Hotel (Y80 or about $10 for a double) that was recommended by Echo. I suspect she was getting a kickback for sending tourists there because it wasn’t anything special. Old Town Lijiang is charming and geared for Western tourists, which, after roughing it for a week was pretty OK with us…in fact I could have spent several weeks here…easy.

The Old Town of Lijiang, which an UNESCO World Heritage Site, is perfectly adapted to the uneven topography of this key commercial and strategic site, has retained a historic townscape of high quality and authenticity. Its architecture is noteworthy for the blending of elements from several cultures that have come together over many centuries. Lijiang also possesses an ancient water-supply system of great complexity and ingenuity that still functions effectively today.
We ate dinner at the Blue Papaya Italian Restaurant. There were two girls at the table next to us that were deep in conversation all through dinner; we wondered how they knew each other and what they were talking about…still sitting there when we left…

Sunday Dec 8
While eating breakfast on the street, I bartered with a Naxi woman for a bracelet…she asked Y250 I responded with 50 and we ended up at Y150. She recognized my earrings from Sapa Vietnam and gave me a thumbs up.

The internet terminals seemed to be divided up into one per cafe so I used the internet at Sakuras while Jana went to another cafe. I drank a 16 ounce Dali beer for Y6 or less than a dollar and emailed Jana at the next cafe that I was higher than a kite. She said she laughed out loud when she read it.

A guy from Canada and a guy from Texas were working at Sakura �s to help out the Chinese waitresses with the English speaking clientele…I said, hey you are from Canada…you’re supposed to be saying…and he finished my sentence…”aboot” and we laughed. And we said the guy from Texas was supposed to be talking in a drawl like a Texan…and he laughed too.

In the town square, Jana sat down to visit with a girl from Denmark while I listened to Naxi people chanting and singing under the trees.

We ate dinner at comfortable and cozy Sakuras that is owned by a Chinese/Korean couple…I had Hot Pot Naxi Noodles and Jana had Curry Beef Fried Rice. Later in the evening we met with Echo at our hotel…she shared her information about the matriarcal minority group that lives on Luku Lake east of Lijian and urged us to join her the next morning for the six hour bus ride there. We were still tired from our travels the week before so we declined. It is usually the guys who like going there as there is no such thing as marriage in the group and at the evening dances the girl invites her chosen man to come home with her by gently scratching the inside of his palm as she holds his hand. Children seldom know who their fathers are.

When I am back home and think about China, instead of remembering the Cultural Revolution and Tianenman Square I hope I remember the wonderful Naxi people I met here.