Harbin-ger

I don't get my heart set on much. As far as I can tell, the minute I really look forward to something is exactly when it all goes to pot. It's canceled, it rains, I come down with a fever - the usual suspects. My friend Drew would say this is being dreadfully pessimistic and what is the fun in life if not to look forward to things we plan on and get excited about? I get that. Sometimes it works out. But the other side of this is that sometimes when you aren't counting on anything happening or going your way, it all falls into place. And it's those times that I count among my most thrilling and deliriously happy. A perfect example is one of my favorite trips I took during my freshman year of college, a trip I signed up for not knowing a single other soul who was going. And you know what? It's one of my happiest college memories. It is a rare and cherished thing to find yourself laughing for the greater part of a weekend, a handful of new friends to call for future weekends.

In general, I guess I find more satisfaction in the happy, little surprises in life, so I leave myself open to a lot of them. So with that bit of background out of the way, I am actually here to tell you about a plan. Yes. I made a plan. I hoped on a plan. I carried out a plan. Crazy, I know. I dared to hope for a good outcome despite being the hopeless doubter that I am.

I had wanted to go to Harbin, a city in northern China, since last winter. A trip did not pan out in the two month window I had, but I didn't dwell too much on it at the time. But then I found myself still in China a year later and thought, woman, this is your second chance. So I starting thinking about it and planting seeds in others' minds months ahead. I decided it wouldn't be hard. Now that I had some traveling in China under my belt, it should be a simple matter of just planning a short trip. A long weekend. I researched the city, it's history, the reviews of the ice and snow festival that was the main reason for wanting to go. After a while, I felt that old feeling creeping in. I wanted to do something specific and I was falling in love with the idea.

Well, it was a great plan. A great plan, that is, until I couldn't find anyone to go with me. These things happen. People have jobs and stuff. Plus, going to a sub-zero climate to look at some blocks of ice could be considered a hard sell... So I let myself get upset, feeling stupid for falling for that old trick of getting my hopes up just so they could disintegrate. Haven't you learned your lesson, you big dolt?

But then, I changed my tune. I thought, no. I am not going to let it stop me. I toured Guilin by myself, why can't I just go alone? It's simple enough and I feel safe in China, so why not? I had my doubts, of course. Are you crazy? I asked myself. You're going to go, get lost and die in the snow, alone. (Sheesh, my mind can be so drearily morbid!) But I just shook it off, telling myself I'd be kicking my own tail for years after this if I didn't seize this opportunity. It was now or never.

So after some dithering and waiting and checking the weather forecasts and getting discouraged (-20F?!), I finally rallied and worked out a plan and booked my tickets for the last week in February, the last week of the ice festival. Whoa, did I just commit to a solo trip? Oh sure, I had toured Guilin by myself, but David was there, meeting me for dinner and sharing the flights to and from. Sure, I lived in Shanghai for a year and was by myself 80% of the time, but touring a city you live in is decidedly different than playing tourist elsewhere. I've never taken a solo trip, not even in my own country. So this was quite a moment for me. I experienced a special kind of post-ticket purchase glee once I booked the flight and room and I took it to mean I had made the right choice.

So, I prepared, stuffed my suitcase full of sweaters and socks and set out on my journey. The flight was easy, as usual. I worried more about getting into town from the airport outside of Harbin. I had two options: take a cab (100 yuan) or take the airport bus (20 yuan). I decided to go all out and take the bus.

Boy, was that ever an adventure all in itself.

I somehow found the bus ticket counter, deducing this from the price on the window (I knew the price beforehand), attempted a question with the non-responsive, practically comatose ticket lady, aborted that plan and went ahead and bought a ticket. Instead of attempting another question, I followed the lady who bought a ticket after me to find out where to find the bus. You have to get creative when you have no clue what is going on. 


We reached the bus and I thought, hmm, this might have been the choice that marks me as a lunatic. There were at least 30 people crowding the bus, trying to shove luggage in the bottom compartment, tripping over the luggage carriers that everyone wheeled right up to the bus, pushing past people, boarding. There was no hope I was getting on that thing, but lucky for me there was another bus waiting right behind and I figured I could inch up to be one of the first in line.

Didn't matter. Still madness. Everyone was not only shoving their luggage in, they were trying to lock it up with these goofy little chains with pad locks. It was NOT a smooth operation. Plus, the first round of folks were all in the way of everyone else. I was in the second wave, but it made no difference. A lady in a lush fur coat pushed me out of the way and my patience started to wane. Someone rammed something into the back of my ankle. I know I started saying what I was thinking out loud because at that point I didn't care and nobody was listening anyway. "This is the most inefficient, insane, bleep bleep way to bleep go about things! Bleep." Finally a guy who was supposed to be helping the process along (read: useless) just motions for me to leave my suitcase in the spot I had somehow managed to find for it, without locking it because time was ticking. I couldn't reach a chain for my luggage anyway, so I boarded.

I immediately started to smack myself in the forehead.

I fretted the whole way into town, worried that my luggage was left on the curb or stolen at any of our other stops because it was the only one not locked up. All my clothes! In reality, nothing too valuable, but after losing my small camera recently, I'd had enough of losing things. I knew it would make for a great story, but I cared more about not being cold for three days at that point.

But much to my delight it was still there when I got off at the train station. This trip might not suck, I thought.

I took the first taxi I found, agreeing to a slightly augmented fare because at that point, I just didn't care. The driver tried chatting, but I couldn't understand his question and wasn't motivated to try too hard. Within 10 minutes I was at the hotel. The driver handed me my precious luggage from the trunk and then with a sort of awkward, goofy grin, he spread his arms, his shoulders sort of in an "aren't I silly?" shrug, and hugged me.

Um. That's new. I kind of laughed it off and said "Ha, okay, bye bye!" That was it. Not a super creepy hug, or a grab even, but it was odd. I chalked it up to the solo traveler gig, a quirky tidbit to share over future beers.

I checked in. Let me tell you, it was the simplest check in process in China to date, and that's saying a lot. I settled into my warm and basic room, resting a bit before foraging for food. I asked the front desk about food options. They laughed and said, "KFC!" Ha, no way. I have KFC in Jining. Anything else? I mean, it's a big city. "McDonald's," they offered. Sigh. Apparently there was no hotel restaurant like their brochure said. It was too late for most restaurants, I figured. So, McDonald's it was, as I hadn't eaten a real meal all day. I enjoyed it and called it a day soon after.

Chinese style hotel breakfast turned out to be quite okay, especially for around 3 bucks. You simply have to tell your mind it is okay to eat fried rice and veggies at breakfast. I filled up and it lasted me a good part of the day. Best $3 I spent.

I bundled up and set out toward the river, thinking I would at least see the Snow Festival that day. The sun was shining, but it was indeed quite cold. I could feel ice crystals forming in my nose when I inhaled. Harbin is in the northern-most province of China, butting up against Russia, as in Siberia, as in, damn cold. I saw many signs in Russian and there were even some restaurants with Russian food. The city still felt like China to me, but I could definitely see the Russian influence in the architecture. The most prominent example of this is the old orthodox church of St. Sophia.

I found myself amazed that this building still stands, built at the beginning of the 1900s, surviving time and the Cultural Revolution. I enjoyed seeing something old, sturdy and authentic for a change.

My feet and cheeks were already frozen after only thirty minutes of being outside, but the rest of me was warm. I've never worn so many clothes in my life! I picked my way over the ice covered sidewalks to the river, which is frozen solid for 3 months out of the year. People clear off sections of the river for ice skating rinks, ice slides, odd little one-dog dog sleds, and even some horse drawn carriages. It had the typical quirky, hodgepodge air of many Chinese outdoor activities I have come across. Funny to watch, but not fun-looking enough to inspire participation. 

Next step was to get across the river to the Snow Festival. I realized that some people were actually walking across the frozen river, but it seemed like a really long walk. So I opted for the cable car. I'm glad I did because I got a good view of the city despite holding my breath every time the car hit a bump. I'm not scared of heights. I'm just scared of falling from them.

A couple fellow travelers, an older gent from Australia and his younger Chinese friend, were heading to the festival at the same time as me, so we all decided to go together. I welcomed the conversation and Jack, the Chinese guy, explained a few signs and things along the way.

The snow sculptures were a little worse for wear as the temperature had reached freezing a few days before. Add in the sunshine, and the snow had melted some at the surface. Overall they were still impressive, especially the large ones...

 

We spent a good 2 hours walking around to all the sculptures. There were so many. I would like to know how long it takes to carve them all.

Towards the end, I found out the Ice Festival was a thirty minute walk from there, but running low on calories from breakfast and being thoroughly frozen, I decided to head back and search for some early dinner. I bid farewell to my travel companions and slowly made my way back to town.


Food proved hard to find. I thought I was walking down a restaurant street of sorts, but it seemed to have mostly clothing stores, but I didn't have a hankering for cotton or pleather. Turns out all the restaurants were down the side streets. Maybe I would have noticed this earlier if I hadn't been closely watching every step I took on the ice rink that was the sidewalks and street. I was so sore from flinching and catching my balance all day. Eventually I found a recognizable Japanese chain, got myself some curry rice and then walked back toward the hotel. I pushed myself to go a block out of the way for some night shots of the cathedral, but then I went straight to the hotel. I was toast at 8pm.


Another big breakfast the next morning, but then I doddled around to watch the Olympics, as the women's figure skating finals were on that day. My only goal that day was to see the Ice Festival, so I had plenty of time to spare. I had decided to walk there, utilizing my cable car ticket I neglected to use for the return trip the day before. So, trying to time the long walk to arrive at the fest around sunset, I left the hotel around 2pm to get some lunch (I succumbed to more fast food) and continued towards the river.


Two pairs of socks managed to keep my feet warm longer, but eventually, they surrendered. No matter. I just kept walking. The last 30 minutes of the walk was quite beautiful as the sun set.

I arrived at the festival gates just as the sun slipped away and just before they turned on all the lights. The long walk had served as a sort of long, drawn out lead up to the main event, building suspense. I bought the ticket and went inside. I took it all in and thought, "Yeah, this is, in fact, pretty damn cool."

 This is several stories tall and made all of ice.

For the next two hours I just snapped away with my camera. I had brought a tripod along just for this night, trying to work on my skills and get some good night shots. I took one go down an ice slide and one pit stop in a warm hut for some hot tea and popcorn. 

 Ta da!

Other than that, it was photography city. I got some attention while setting up shots and then running to get into the frame, racing the camera timer. I completely didn't care. I focused on taking it all in, with both my eyes and my lens. I certainly couldn't focus on my frozen feet, which were, in the end, the deciding factor for when to take my leave.

Which brings me to the second event I was anxious about: finding a ride back. The festival is way out there, so I knew I'd be at the mercy of the supply of cabs. (Another good reason for leaving early, to avoid the last minute rush for a ride.) So leaving a good hour or so before things shut down, there were plenty of cabs. I chatted with the first driver who tried to woo me. I acted pretty distracted and uninterested, which was somewhat true, so it turned out pretty easy to get him to agree to my price. He let me sit in the car while he went back to get a couple more people to fill up his car and we were off. I was so relieved! 


We dropped off the young couple first. When they had shut the door, the driver nudged me, pointed at them and told me how much they had paid. It was 10 yuan more than I did! Whoo hoo! We both laughed at this. I don't think I've ever underbid a native before! Heck yeah, ego boost!


By the time I got back to the hotel I was stoked. I had done it. I had come, I had seen what I wanted to see, I had taken some pictures I could be proud of, I had successfully bargained and I had survived. I felt like a million. Maybe this was a good sign of things to come, my new leaf of pushing myself to hold tight to some dreams, encouraging them to bloom instead of always letting them die on the vine. Some things are worth facing fears for and the bonus is finding courage along the way. Harbin was something I could not conceive of doing on my own a mere twelve months before. Now that I've conquered it, I have to wonder what seemingly impossible tasks I can think of will be checked off the list in the future. I certainly was not born out on a limb, fearlessly dancing high above the ground, but I am getting more comfortable with stepping out there from time to time, maybe even doing a twirl or two.

The 11 Foreigners You Meet In China

The Newbie

It’s intimidating to be one, fresh off the plane and completely out of your element. Once you have been here for a couple of months, however, it’s kind of fun to help out other Newbies. "Zuo gui means turn left," "Don't eat that," and "Never, ever leave the house without tissues in your bag" all prove vitally important to any fresh faces. Any information you have gleaned will probably be news to the noobs. The little sense of satisfaction when you bestow some hard-earned wisdom upon their grasshopper selves is worth the price of admission. Plus, it's karma, as someone no doubt helped you out a few times. However, Newbies are harder to befriend the longer you are here, especially if you have low patience levels with déjà vu. "What's the word for the bill again?" Each new round of folks will talk about the crazy driving and the split pants on babies like it’s the most astonishing thing they’ve ever seen. The old timers just sigh and pat them on the shoulder. “That’s okay, little noob, you’ll stop seeing it after a while. All in good time.”

The Lifer

A somewhat rare breed and not the same across the board, but always interesting to talk to, The Lifer is staying for the long haul. He seems perfectly happy here or he just hates his homeland that much more. Maybe he married a local and started a family, his work is specific to China, or he just loves having someone come to do his laundry and dishes twice a week until he dies. I find it all very intriguing. As I plan to leave this place eventually, I am fascinated by those who do not wish to go home. This is their home now. Folks in this category also have the highest rate of Mandarin mastery and it just makes me jealous. (Plus, it is totally wild to hear a foreigner with a pretty convincing Chinese accent, tones and all. It makes quite an impression.)

The Whinger

To be fair, I think most people here have done this or have gone through a whinging stage. (I use the Australian term for whiner here, simply because it's a fab word. Pronounced like ‘twinge-ah.’) Most people go through culture shock of some sort and usually there is something to complain about, something that gets your goat or that you simply cannot understand no matter how hard you try. Many people get past the bulk of their pet peeves and learn to accept what they cannot change about China. However, the chronic complainer focuses conversations solely on whining. "Why can't they just stop spitting? It's sooo gross!" Some Whingers can be funny when they do it, but if they are not, they drain the energy from anyone who has gotten over the subject in question. A veritable silver lining black hole, these folks are best taken in small doses or only when you are in a bullet-proof good mood. However, perhaps a better plan is to only meet the Whinger when you’ve just had a crap day and you could really use a complaining companion, and a cold beer. "I said a cold beer! Why don't they ever have enough cold beer?"

The Sexpat

Oh dear, this bloke. I don’t need to go into details as this guy is infamous. The most stereotypical variety of Sexpat and, may I say awkward to witness, is the ancient and/or highly unattractive and/or sleazy dude with the young, impossibly hot chic on his arm. Perhaps it's a mutually beneficial arrangement. Whatever. It just hits me like a bad note on the trumpet and I'd just plain rather not be listening, thank you. But on a more day to day level, the Sexpats of all ages fall into two main categories: the guys who are fairly suave before they come here and the suddenly "desirable" expats who find themselves in a once forbidden candy store, of sorts. They see the buffet and just can’t stop sampling. And so, the notches hit the post. You can tell when you meet the guy who has let the game go to his head and now regards himself as some sort of God of Mojo. Being suddenly seen as exotic and desirable is hard not to notice I'm sure. However, this guy is probably leaving China at some point, and unless he buckles down and secures one of these fine ladies to accompany him for the long term, he will need to check his reality along with his bags for the flight home.

The Teacher

The English teacher abounds in China. Many have come for the experience only for the length of the contract. Some use it as a way to get to China and then leapfrog to something else. A few, however, make a career out of it and actually enjoy it. A friend recently started his own school here, committing to years of being a teacher here. Managing a classroom full of children is quite the challenge, but it is no doubt rewarding in a place where learning English is seen as vital for success. I tutored three Chinese boys my first year here and as if I needed any more reason to, it made me respect teachers a great deal more than ever. Well, good teachers. If she’s just playing Finding Nemo for the kids while she sits at the desk and text messages her friends about drinks later, maybe she should quit her day job and get one she cares about.

The Enthusiast

Oh my, he is just bursting with excitement! He loves Chinese philosophy, he loves the people, he loves the language, he just love, love, loves the culture with all the fireworks and backwards walking and street food on skewers he can handle. He likely studied Chinese history in college and majored in Mandarin. He came here to experience it first hand. He is here to eat, see and breathe this place. He wants to live like a local. I have to say, it’s refreshing to see folks who really, really want to be here and are so positive about it all. I envy their zeal, but then I also catch myself wondering if they are in the honeymoon phase and it will all come crashing down around their knees in a few months. This is a terrible thing to think. I hope I’m wrong. I think I am some of the time. But I’m willing to bet that either a week of food poisoning or falling for the tea house scam just might cool his enthusiasm a stitch.

The Fugitive

This one is running from something. You don’t know what exactly, but he is escaping a past. Maybe it’s a nasty divorce. Maybe it’s a native land where he can’t attract a significant other. Maybe he lost his right to practice his professional trade in his homeland. Or maybe…he’s running from long arm of the law! Okay, that’s extreme, but it does make one wonder. Fugitives are somewhat rare, or maybe they are just the least obvious kind, which makes sense. They are escaping something and they don’t want you to know what from. You get this weird vibe around them. They change the subject a lot, don't talk about home much and might even avoid having their pictures taken. I’m all for redemption and new starts. If you’re here to make it all right again, kudos to you. I don’t need to know all your dark secrets. But if you're hiding a murderous past? Yeah, I’d want to know that because then I could stay the heck away from you.

The Young

A great number of post-college people come to live here, the land of infinite possibilities. In a sense, the Young one is braver than her older, fellow countrymen who come here on cushy expat packages. She has to find her own way and take public transportation. Maybe he came to study Mandarin at a Chinese university where he learned to actually read Mandarin which only makes him more valuable if he chooses to stay and work here. Impressive. She might have come to jump start her career, landing jobs and getting promotions that are a few steps above what she could expect in her native land. The Young are full of energy and are enjoying a colorful, challenging, rewarding life working hard and playing hard in the major cities in China. Money stretches farther in China and so, the good times roll on.

The Restless

Eternal searchers, the Restless are looking for their place in life. This may be their first time abroad or just the latest stop on their hop-scotch around the globe, but they come with ideas of a different life, a new perspective and the promise of endless possibilities. They try all sorts of jobs, travel around the country, and get into new religions or philosophies. They search and maybe even briefly find what they want in life and yet, in the end, it’s like trying to catch smoke in their hands. They become bored or frustrated with life here. Many remain eternally optimistic, keeping the faith that if they try this next thing or this new place or this different vocation, they will find satisfaction. Others start to show signs of losing hope, having started over so many times with always the same results. As is the nature of these roving souls, most will slip away when your back is turned without a goodbye, moving on to their next attempt at figuring life out.

The Burnout

This guy should have gone home a long time ago. The Burnout, the grouchy, toxic cousin of the Whinger, is way past the point of enjoying himself or learning anything new. He doesn’t care about experiencing local culture anymore. In fact, he views it all very negatively. Life is shit, baby, and if you haven’t realized it yet, he is more than willing to fill you in on “the truth.” The corruption, the cheating, the shady ways of the government, the fake friendliness of the bar girls, the polluted water, the cooks who never wash their hands. It’s all in the toilet for him, and yet he just won’t flush. It’s hard to picture the Burnout having ever enjoyed being in China. Why did he want to come to China in the first place? What will it take to make him finally leave? Whatever it takes he should check out, and sooner rather than later.

The Tag-along

Simply put, she’s here because her significant other is here, whether it was a job transfer or just a good opportunity to work abroad. In time, she may make her own life here, landing a job in her field, seizing the opportunity to start a new business, or perhaps focusing on exploring a long-lost hobby. Some Tag-alongs enjoy the ride even if they don’t get a job here, taking advantage of the perks by traveling around, getting massages, and going out on the town chauffeured by their personal driver. Some come to resent their situation with a smoldering fury and become bitter, bitter souls. Some “trailing wives”, especially those in the smaller cities, become depressed and lonely, isolated from their old lives with no support group of friends and no clear way to eke out a place in this new life. I have seen this and it is sad. But the Tag-along who goes gracefully forward, taking care of kids or simply themselves, not dwelling on her status as the follower, manages to treat life like anywhere else: normal. I admire that woman most of all.

Where do I fall in here? I’ve been the Newbie (seems like just yesterday…), dabbled as the Teacher and the Enthusiast, and fallen into being the Whinger more than I’d like to admit. Long term, I’m in with the Young (I can play one on TV) and of course, the Tag-along. Some fit better than others and some fit only for short periods of time. The important thing here is to know yourself, or at least be honest with yourself and your intentions. And never, ever stay long enough to become the Burnout.

This piece can also be seen at The Faster Times . Check it out!

I have a wok and I know how to use it!

Food. We all need it, most of us want it, some of us are consumed by it (har har) and some of us are on an eternal search for the holy grail of our favorite varieties. Myself, I do enjoy food and sometimes enjoy the challenge of making it myself, but other times, I find it a chore. If I'm busy or down in the dumps, I usually find myself irritated at having to figure out, once again, "What am I going to eat?"

When I first came to China, I did not know much. I had to slowly piece together where to get groceries, where I could find a decent meal prepared for me, and what specialty shops to get the equipment that I thought would be basic (cheese grater, pie pan, etc.). I eventually discovered a foreign grocery store as well, but then it was a matter of evaluating just how badly I wanted cereal or imported cheeses or tortilla chips, because it would often cost an arm and both legs. No box of cereal is ever worth $10 to me. However, $5 for a block of Land-o-Lakes cheddar? You better believe it.

I not only had to gain footing in a foreign country and how to make it feel more homelike on the dinner table, I found I actually had quite a lot to learn about cooking period. If not for my mother, a few foodie friends and good ol' Betty's cookbook (Crocker, that is) I would have been eating way more ramen noodles than I care to think about.

Now, I'm in Jining. We shipped a few boxes of food when we moved, which (pat ourselves on the back) was so smart. While there is now a new grocery that does sell cheese and some decent bread, our first two months here I spent talking to a few ladies living here who were giving me all their tips of where to find what and at which store. "This store sometimes has bread that isn't sweet, but you have to ask them which ones are which." "This store has good vegetables, but don't buy the meat here." "These frozen fish filets aren't too bad." I confess, I never tried using the odd "cheese spread stuff watered down with milk as a cream substitute" option, but much of their other advice was vital and so very helpful to me. At the end of the day, though, there is much I just cannot get here. It can sometimes feel like some sort of survival test or challenge to your creative powers when you cannot get everything you want or need just like that. I cannot get cream. This cuts out a majority of the desserts in my cookbook. They don’t sell fresh basil or tubs of pre-made chocolate frosting or bags of baby greens for fancy salads or hot dogs. I buy shrimp, but no other meat here because when the meat counter guy tells you that the red meat AND the pink meat are both beef, you can't help but be suspicious of the lot.

That is just a sample of what I can and cannot find here. I'm not trying to complain. It is just hard sometimes to really convey what types of things I have to work around to get dinner on the table. Now, I probably cook dinner 3 or 4 times a week. That's significantly more than I did back home, or even in Shanghai. It helps to have someone else to cook for, as it just seems more worth the effort when two people will be eating it. This also pushes me to try new things or try to improve my techniques.

But you know what the funniest part about having limitations is? It actually helps me. Yep. If you know me at all, you will be well aware of my difficulty when it comes to too many options to choose from. ("50 flavors of ice cream?? Oh nooo!!") So, not having everything in the world available actually makes my job easier, but it also makes me realize how many combinations you can make with 5 items and how many things you can make from scratch. Essentially, I'm getting back to whole foods, whether I set out to or not.

Which finally brings me to the real point of this post. Many people spend their whole time in China trying to find good western food. I'm guilty as well. Most times, however, the results are mostly disappointing. It really does make more sense to try to find the really good Chinese restaurants, because, “Hello? Is this thing on?” we're in CHINA. There are tons of more options with a much higher rate of success if you look for good Chinese food. And guess what? It makes just as much sense to actually cook Chinese food as well.

I inherited a Chinese cookbook last fall and recently purchased three more from the same company. For the first time since I've been in China, I actually love looking in the cookbook. Every single ingredient listed in those books all exist in the grocery store here. All of them! And the best part is it's fairly simple to prepare yourself for cooking this cuisine. If you have soy sauce, rice wine, sesame oil, salt, pepper, flour, corn starch, sugar, chili sauce, chilies, garlic, ginger and spring onions, you are totally set to make a great number of dishes.

So the other night I set my sights high. I chose two northern Chinese dishes to make for dinner. I bought all the fresh ingredients for spring onion and garlic chive dumplings and an eggplant dish. I had no idea what garlic chives were, but I studied the picture in the book. Low and behold, there they were in the produce section. So cool. I love learning new things. I also bought the skinny eggplants, which I find I like much better than those bulbous ones back home.

The recipes are straightforward enough, and once you have all the prep done, cooking is fairly easy as well. Bu the prep, how I underestimated the prep! First, I had to finely chop about two cups of garlic chives...(see top picture). Takes a lot longer than you would imagine.


Other chopping was needed, but that was pretty short and sweet. The dumplings, however, were a lot of work. From making the super sticky dough to rolling each piece out and trying to fill them without making them ugly or broken, the process took quite a lot of time.


Luckily for me, I had a helper. So in the end, we only ate about an hour later than usual. David even opened one of our stashed bottles of white wine, which I have to say, goes really well.


And the results? Pretty darn good! It's simple, the eggplant was delicious, and once I get the hang of it, it could be a pretty streamlined process. The success of making some of the Chinese food I have discovered here really got me thinking. Maybe instead of my success here being marked by whether or not I learn Chinese it can be measured in my mastering of its food! (At this rate, I might leave here knowing how to cook more Chinese food than western.) Hey, if I can continue some sort of trend of cooking easy dishes at home more instead of grabbing that easy bite down at the drive-thru, I will consider the lessons learned a huge success indeed.

Taking on Tokyo

In October, we found ourselves with an unexpected open week on our hands. Where should we go? we asked each other. Being so close to so many places we've never been, it was a little overwhelming to choose. But in the end, we decided to go to the most populated city in the world:

Tokyo!

Upon arrival, after checking into the hotel, we needed to get some dinner...

That's in Yen, right?

Now before you slap us with a "Pathetic American" card, let's review that acquiring a hamburger in Jining is virtually impossible. Wendy's has not made it past the Great Wall yet, but even McDonald's, found in most large cities in China, is absent in our little corner of Shandong Province. So it was a case of, see Wendy's sign, look at each other for subtle cues, look at Wendy's sign while salivating, simultaneously agree to cave into the crave. And let me tell you, that was the best damn Wendy's meal I can recall.

After eating, we decided to take in some Japanese culture, and just wandered the streets. We found several of these pachinko parlors, which I knew nothing about before and now know a little more about thanks to a certain Mr. Wik A. Pedia. But from personal experience, I can say that the place is a frenzy of noise, lights, smoke and zombie people continuously firing buckets of small, metal balls into the machine that very much resembles a slot machine crossed with a pinball machine. We stayed just long enough for me to snap a picture and then I had to GET OUT. Sensory overload.


We mostly just took in the scene on the streets, little alleys chock of full of small bars and restaurants. And we found out the hard way that some of these bars are "members only, men only" kinda places. Well, we didn't want to go to your silly bar anyway!


We retired to the hotel soon after and I had a lovely passion fruit caprihinia at the hotel bar. Again, not doing so well with the whole Japanese experience, I know, but that was just day one. We had more chances...

We stuffed ourselves with hotel breakfast the next morning and then set out on the subway to another area of town. On our way to see a temple, there was plenty to feast the eyes upon.

Fake food...

A festive, fall street market...

And a monkey! In a tunic!

The rest of the day consisted of a boat tour under a great number of modern bridges and then we made our way back to our neighborhood on foot, stopping by the Tokyo Tower for a view of the city.


In case you were wondering, it does look much like the Eiffel Tower, except it's slightly taller. Always gotta be some sort of one-upmanship going on, eh?

For the rest of our five day stint in Tokyo, we mostly chose a district to explore each day and took it easy. We did eventually manage to eat some Japanese food, although I'd be lying if I said we didn't have Indian food for lunch one day...and maybe Italian another day... We justified it all because Japan seems to have a well-established grasp of what foreign food is supposed to taste like. Many times when you are aching for that simple deli sandwich or pizza or some such fare, a Chinese establishment will miss the mark more often than not. I mean, I'm all for creativity, but corn on pizza is just weird and a far cry from pepperoni, you know? And sorry, ketchup is NOT pasta sauce.

We were both fascinated by just how different Japan was from China in several ways. Japan is clean. I mean, we're talking immaculate. In a city with 20 or so million people, the lack of mess is just astounding. And it's quiet. Okay, let me clarify this, because I am sure other people who have been to Tokyo might raise their eyebrows a stitch on this one. By quiet, I mean no one is yelling into their cell phone, no one is honking their car horns, and no one, absolutely no one is clearing their throat in that most shudder-inducing way. Also, after coming from a country where we surprise the people by saying 'thank you' so often, Japan overwhelmed us with all the pleasantries. Thank you's and please's and welcome's and apologies and different kinds of thank you's. Wow. I've never had anyone say so many things to me during the 60 seconds it takes to buy a book.


I will just share a few more things about our trip, in no particular order. We stopped by a temple on one of our walks in the evening, and there were monks inside chanting. While I have been to a great number of different sorts of temples in China, this felt like the real deal and I was not quite sure why at first. But then it hit me: people were actively worshiping here. You could hear it and you could feel it. Some temples in China feel like a relic, an ancient site that once held believers, but this place was alive. We both stood there for a long time, just listening and watching.


On our last day we visited the Meiji Shrine in the Harajuku district. This was probably my favorite thing we did. This was not just a shrine. The shrine is in the middle of a forest. 175 acres of forest, actually. And the trees are large and lovely. I just felt myself let out sigh after sigh. I loved the shrine as well, the simple decorations so refreshing to me after seeing one too many multi-colored and gold encrusted temples. The gates were wooden, unpainted and plain. I loved it.


We walked for quite a while here and found a field with only a few people around. The grass seemed as clean as the city, so we joyfully sprawled out on the ground as the sun went down. Hundreds of crows flew about, calling out and flying in huge groups from big tree to big tree.

Nature in the middle of a huge, congested metropolis and I could not have been more relaxed. Of course, what's the sublime without a little absurd...

A cart of babies!

Childcares of America take note: convenient, safe, and oh so cute with those little colored hats!

To end I will tell you about our cab ride. Living in China, we take cabs all the time. They are cheap and we have no car. In Japan, however, they are far from cheap. There is a reason everyone uses the subway. But on our last night we decided to take a cab home for the experience. The cabs themselves are swanky in the way that you expect the driver inside to be named Jeeves (or maybe I just hope this). The car doors open and close automatically: a germaphobe's dream car. Although, they would not have to worry about germs in this car at all, as the inside is immaculate. There are white doilies on the headrests and they are actually white, the head room could accomodate Yao Ming himself and the ride is smooth and swift.

We were close to our hotel when our driver ran over one of the reflectors on the yellow line on the street. We sort of felt it and would not have thought twice about it except that the driver apologized up and down for it, looking down right embarrassed. I almost started laughing. I've seen cab drivers in China run over whole curbs and not even flinch. To get an apology from them, I am pretty sure we would have to run down a dog or small child first. I wish I had known how to say, "Life is short. Run over all the reflectors you please!," in Japanese, but I doubt it would have changed things. In the end, I guess a pricey cab ride should be impressive, just like everything else in that city. I quite enjoyed myself.

Halloween

I have always loved Halloween. I grew up looking forward to Halloween each year once the leaves started to change their color and I felt that nip in the air. My childhood best friend also loved the holiday and we would spend time dreaming up the best costumes, watching semi-scary movies, carving the best jack-o-lanterns and most importantly, plotting out our dream haunted house. She had a few Halloween parties and since she lived on a farm, hayrides and hay bale mazes were always on the bill. We got older and replaced trick-or-treat with haunted houses complete with guys wielding chainsaws above our heads. Scary, yes. Magical, no. Now that I am an adult, I have to hope for an opportunity to dress up either for a house party or for going out to a bar or club, which to me, just isn’t the same. It seemed more fun as a kid somehow. I confess a couple years have slipped by with no celebration at all, but I still love Halloween. I still dream of the best party I could ever throw. I still hope trick-or-treaters will come to my door. I still carve jack-o-lanterns, setting them outside with an eerie flickering candle inside. Gotta try to keep the magic alive.

The Chinese do not celebrate Halloween, but they do have a ghost culture. Similar to western cultures, ghosts can be good or evil. They are visible to some, but invisible to most. Many ghosts avoid the light, so fires are used to keep them away. Evil ghosts are thought to travel in straight lines, so many paths, such as the bridge at the Yu Yuan Garden in Shanghai, have many bends in them to keep such spirits away. The seventh lunar month, which falls in July, is considered ghost month, a time when ghosts are able to cross back through to our world. So those who believe give offerings to ghosts, many times their own ancestors, but sometimes they also must appease “homeless” ghosts who do not have any living relatives. Sometimes fake money, or “ghost money” is burned to keep the spirits happy.

Since coming here, I have heard that many Chinese people sincerely believe in ghosts and are quite scared of them. Many people on the mainland are now atheist and do not believe in the old traditions of ancestor worship or appeasing angry ghosts. I read that many more people in Taiwan, having left the mainland before Communism and the elimination of many old traditions, kept the old ways alive, many of them fully believing in ghosts.

I am fascinated by this. Generally I am not superstitious. I do, however, love a good ghost story, a tale of the unexplained by someone who swears to its happening. The only weird thing that ever happened to me was that a lamp went off a few seconds before I reached the dial. I chalked it up to something electrical, but had fun thinking of it as a sign of a meddling spirit. If I were truly superstitious, the house I grew up in was prime territory for potential ghosts. One segment of the house is over 100 years old, existing in the days when the canal still ran through Groveport. Some say the house was the ice house on the canal, selling ice chunks to the passing boats. Others say that it used to be the town jail. If that isn’t fodder for some spooky stories of lingering ghosts, I don’t know what is. Did I mention that the town cemetery is across the street? Childhood games of “Ghost in the Graveyard” played in my front yard had a little more punch, the looming tombstones dimly glowing in the pale orange flood lights just yards away.

Despite grim prospects for any sort of Halloween this year aside from my carved baking pumpkin and some imported Halloween Peeps in the shape of ghosts, I was pleasantly surprised with an opportunity to sneak in some festive fun. An American we met here, Mike, and his Chinese wife, Vicky, have started an English school in Jining. They invited us to come to their Halloween celebration. So, with last year's costume props in tow, David and I came to help. They had trick-or-treating, a costume fashion show, games, decorations, and a haunted house! They turned one of the classrooms in the small school into a haunted house complete with cobwebs, spooky music, and the required costumed performers jumping out at every turn. And this is how I learned first hand how scared Chinese people are of ghosts, because I volunteered to be one of the ghouls. Armed with a spooky mask and a good hiding spot, I scared the pants off of young children and parents alike. I tried not to scare them too badly, but in truth, some people did not make it through the whole house, opting to turn back. But they all seemed to be laughing once they came out, so I felt confident no one was going to have nightmares that night.

It felt really good to have helped a handful of kids in a small corner of China experience a little Halloween fun. I have realized that many holidays are simply much more exciting and magical when there are kids around. I certainly enjoyed my Halloween this year, as they gave me a good excuse to pretend to believe in spooks for an evening, helping me to keep my inner child alive and kicking for yet another year.

If you would like to read more about the belief in ghosts in Taiwan, check out this article.

Hair Cut Adventure

David and I walked into the hair salon in Shanghai for a hair cut a few weekends ago. I have gone with David to this place several times just to keep him company. He gets his hair cut way more often that I do, so I've always just been the observer. I'm somewhat reluctant to give some poor hair cutter here a chance for me to be really angry with him. It won't really be his fault, but I'd rather have long hair in need of a cut than some sort of freaky half bob with rust colored streaks in it when I can't communicate what I really want.

However, my hair had grown quite long, and despite wanting to wait a bit longer for a cut so I can donate it, I decided it was in need of a trim in the meantime. This is how I found myself in the hot seat next to David.

Now, in China, a hair cut is no simple matter. They wash your hair while you sit in the chair using some shampoo and a little squirt bottle of water. They work up quite the mountain of lather, scrub your scalp for a good ten minutes and then it's off to the sink for a rinse.

Back in the chair, they give you a massage. That's right. A hair cut includes a shoulder, arm and hand massage. It's not always phenomenal, but hey, it's more than we normally get. They also will clean your ears, which I find a bit odd. Some random girl sticking a q-tip in there is a little unsettling. My girl was quite careful, but I did notice another patron was getting quite the ear make-over one chair over. I have a feeling he never cleans his own ears.

So here's the part where the hair cutter, always a guy, comes over to snippity-snip. I've watched them working on David and I must say they spend a lot of time, mostly with scissors instead of a buzzer, making sure all the hairs are cut just so. Whether it is "just so's you like it" is a different story, but you can't say they rush through it.

My guy, after clearly gettting the message that I only wanted "just a little bit" cut off, started combing through my hair and of course, due to the dead ends, had a hard time getting through. He pointed this out to me and said, "Blah blah blah," and I said, "Yeah I know, no problem." But of course, all he heard was, "Blah blah blah." Hmm. We both laughed. He brought over a product to show me. Luckily, it had English on it and I saw it was for dry and damaged hair. "Ah, okay," I said. Conditioner, detangler. I get the idea. Go for it. He eventually understood I had agreed, and we were off and running. Another guy came over and they both started painting this stuff into my hair, rubbing it in, and then rolling it up into curls and pinning the curls all over my head.

Sitting in the chair to my left, David asked what they were doing to me. "I have no idea!" I replied, chuckling. "I thought it was just stuff to help him get the comb through!" If I hadn't been able to read the product label, I would have been seriously worried I had just signed up for a perm, but I was pretty sure I was okay.

Meanwhile, David's guy was trying desperately to communicate something about David's hair to him. He seemed to understand how David wanted it cut, but he was pointing to his hair and saying, "Blah blah blah blah blah." David used the ever useful phrase "Ting bu dong," which means, "I hear, but I don't understand." More chatter and pointing. David thought the guy might have been telling him that his hair was very dry and fine. The guy showed him a tube of stuff. It said, "For fine, thin, dry and damaged hair." After a while, David agreed, telling them to put on just a little bit. He thought it was gel or something to make his hair look thicker.

Pan back to me and I have been hooked up to some sort of vaporizing machine. I felt like Frankenstein at the beauty parlor. They had secured this hood thing over my head and sealed me in and now white mist was pouring out from the top. I don't go to salons very often. I've never had my hair dyed or permed or straightened, so this was all doubly foreign to me. I assumed my brain wouldn't fry in there, so I tried to relax.

After a few moments, I heard David say, "Zhe shi shenme??" This means, "What is this??" All the salon girls laughed. I could barely turn my head with the contraption strapped on, but I managed to twist enough to see that they were wrapping David's head up in plastic wrap.

Let me pause for this moment. Yes. Picture it. They had put goop in his hair and now they were wrapping him up like a chicken breast at the grocery. I couldn't stop giggling and that got the salon girls giggling more too. I only stopped once I realized I looked just as ridiculous. That is until they set a machine on David too. It basically looked like a ring and they put it over his head to orbit like the rings of Saturn. He basically looked like the Patron Saint of Shrink Wrap, with his heated halo hovering and spinning above his head.

How on earth did we get ourselves into this?

Anyway, time passed, the machines were removed, gunk was rinsed away and we commenced with the cutting. They finished David first, just as my guy started the massive task that is drying my hair. Once dried and semi-straight, he worked it all into curls with a round brush, which I was somewhat impressed he was able to do. He looked pleased with his efforts, pointing out how much better my hair looked with all the treatments and snips and curls. Yes, yes, hair guy, you did a nice job.

David went to the counter and paid. He came over to me while the finishing touches were being put on my hair. He said, "Well, they charged us about 500 yuan."

500?!

To put this in perspective, David's hair cut usually costs about 40 yuan at this place. Oh dear. I started to apologize, but he said it was both of those treatments that cost a bundle, and then laughed about it. It works out to be about $74. Not great, but not a disaster either. Although, for that kind of money, I should have been able to get a more complicated cut than just a trim, but oh well. Next time, we'll be sure to ask, "How much?" before we agree to be coated in sweet-smelling slime.

I had fun with the curls though. Gave me an excuse to skip all evening. :)

A Room with a View

I live on the eleventh floor of a high rise apartment building in Jining. Most days are smoggy and things look much the same from day to day when I look out my windows. This makes me appreciate when something changes, much more so than I ever would have back home. So I take out the camera...

when the air clears

when the sun sets and the colors come through

when I can see the crescent moon at night

when I am inspired to create interpretive art while cleaning...

even if it is a bit ironic...

when the "fog" reveals its beauty in the early morning hours

when I realize that nighttime changes everything

and when there is cause to celebrate.

I'm keeping my eye out for more beautiful things in this not so beautiful place. I believe I will find what I'm looking for.