we came, we saw, we ate

Drew and I are back in California!  We got back on Wednesday afternoon, and we are slowly recovering from jet lag.  In case you didn’t know, we were in China during the month of July.  Drew’s research interest is China and he decided to supplement his study of the language with a trip to China so that he could practice in context.  Fortunately, I have a job that I can do anywhere, and well, anywhere includes China.  So we packed up and spent the month in Beijing.  Here are some brief thoughts about our trip:

This was my first time out of the United States, and it was quite an experience.  Beijing was a modern city and it had the comforts of home.  At the same time, it didn’t completely look or feel like home, which was a good thing.  When I thought about where I wanted to go on my first trip out of the country, I knew it wouldn’t be Europe.  I didn’t want to go somewhere that looked and seemed an awful lot like the United States.  I guess I had always imagined that I would go to South America (mainly because it’s not Europe and because I can speak some Spanish), and I never thought my first overseas trip would be to Asia.  But it was, and it was great.

One of the first things that I noticed is that Beijing is more poor and developing than the United States.  Sure, there are poor areas in the U.S., but it seemed most of Beijing was poor.  There were areas with tall and shiny buildings, but most areas were clearly impoverished.  People rode old bikes and drove old cars- if they had any of these things at all.  Cars, I might add; not SUVs, not Range Rovers, not mini vans, not Hummers, not gas guzzling vehicles that are excessively large and extravagant.  I saw rows and rows of shacks where people lived, securing their tin roofs down with bricks.

Drew’s adviser said that Beijing is trying to be DC, Los Angeles, Chicago, New York, and Boston all rolled into one.  I’ve been to all those cities except Boston, but I understand what he is saying.  There are the windy freeways and the increasing car culture that is LA, but then there is the public transportation system reminiscent of DC, NY, Chicago, and presumably Boston.  There are bright and shiny buildings that remind me of the skyscrapers in NY.  Beijing is large and sprawling, which reminds me of LA, but then there are areas that are more compact and crowded.

As the city develops and modernizes, I couldn’t help but wonder about the pros and cons of progress and modernization.  First of all, how do you even quantify or define these terms?  What does it look like?  Let’s consider two possible aspects: cars and food.  Beijing is increasingly becoming more of a car culture, but at what cost?  Obviously, this has a considerable environmental impact.  There are also signs of Western influence, namely fast food.  KFC and McDonald’s are signs of privilege and status, but again, at what cost?  One of the stark differences between the US and Beijing was obesity.  It seemed non existent in Beijing.  I think that the only overweight people I saw were foreigners, probably American.  So with the increasing influence of fast food, will we also see increases in Body Mass Index?

I’m happy to report that the English language is alive and well.  Whewwww, what a sigh of relief.  At the same time that social conservatives are trying hard to nationalize the English language, it is flourishing in Beijing, and presumably around the world.  While some people are trying to make sure that everyone speaks English in the US, it turns out that everyone outside of the US is already doing it.  I’m sure that this does nothing to quell the fears of those social conservatives because really, nationalizing the English language isn’t really about preserving it at all, right?  But really, to all those who fear that English is a dying language and support legislation or an amendments that would make English the official language of the United States, I’m happy to report that this language is alive, well, and thriving.  I mean, and here I thought it was going extinct, and we’d have to add the English language to the endangered species list right along with the gray wolf and American bison.  But this isn’t the case.  In Beijing, it is easy to get along without reading, writing, or speaking Chinese.  Signs are in English, menus are in English, and at least one person in every restaurant or store that I frequented spoke English.  While Americans are learning no foreign language, everyone else is learning English.  Even on our tour to the Great Wall (in English, of course), there were people from France and Spain.  Amongst themselves, they spoke French or Spanish respectively, but the English language was the common denominator and so we all communicated just fine.  It seems that you can’t escape the English language (which ironically, is what Drew was attempting to do in Beijing).  Although I have only one case in my non scholarly study of the prevalence of the English language, I’m certain that it is not an aberration.

When I told everyone that Drew and I were going to China, the first question people asked is why.  The second was what we were going to eat.  When meat is central to your diet, it’s difficult to imagine what vegetarians and vegans eat, especially when visiting a country in which the people seem to eat anything and everything.  But I was determined to eat good food, and really, food is everywhere.  We ate, and we ate well.  We went to a few vegetarian restaurants, but it wasn’t always necessary to eat at them in order to enjoy the food that Beijing had to offer.  I ate dumplings, fruit kebabs, stinky tofu, and lots and lots of noodles.  I took advantage of the street food, indulging in jiangbing, sushi, egg sandwiches, and noodles.  Never did I feel like I was missing out at all, and our food experience didn’t suffer simply because we are vegetarians.  I mean, it’s not like carnivores were lining up to sample Asian delicacies such as intestines, boiled lamb’s head, or pig’s tongue.  When we grew tired of Chinese food, we found American food to eat- pizza, veggie burgers, pancakes, and even a visit to Outback Steakhouse for baked potatoes and salads (Forgive us; this was after our foray at the Donghuamen Night Market where vendors serve up everything and anything- silk worms, seahorses, snakes, intestines, sheep penis, etc.  We were feeling a little queasy, and I’m sure you would have too).  We also kept trying out the desserts and pastries, even though we didn’t find many that we enjoyed, yet we kept trying them all.

As I said before, I never thought that my first trip out of the US would be to an Asian country.  It’s not because I dislike Asia or anything, but because it’s frustrating and hurtful to be reminded that I’m not perceived to be legitimately Asian or legitimately American.  I suppose this can happen anywhere in the world, but I was never sure how I would feel when people would inevitably assume that I’m Chinese, only to be confused when they realize that I’m not.  This is painfully evident when people play detective with my face.  While this game appears to be amusing to other people, it is wildly irritating and annoying to me.  Over time, I’ve become better able to blow off the game and allow it to run its course.  I knew that people would play detective with my face in Beijing, and I was prepared to take it with a grain of salt.  For reasons that are beyond my understanding, people are curious about my nationality.  They want to know what I am.  It makes people nervous when they can’t quite place me (I just hope it hasn’t caused any sleepless nights).  This happened all of the time when I lived in MN, and it occurs less frequently in CA (it helps that I’m one of many, many Asian people and thus less of an anomaly).  Apparently, my face is a mystery.  People in MN don’t think I’m American, but they can’t quite figure out what I really am.  In Beijing, people assumed that I was Chinese, but after learning that I wasn’t, they assumed I was from another Asian country.  I guess it didn’t cross their minds that I could be American.  The detective game usually goes something like this: First, people ask what I am.  Sometimes they are very straightforward, asking where I’m really from or what my nationality is.  Other people think they’re been more sneaky and ask if I’ve grown up here all my life.  I see right through them.  My favorite version of the game is when people try to guess my ethnicity.  They ask “are you Chinese?”  No.  “Japanese?”  No.  “Korean?”  I lie and say no because it is quite a lot of fun to see how many Asian countries people can name.  In case you’re wondering, the answer is not a lot.  In Beijing, this man asked me if I was Chinese.  I said no.  He asked if I was Japanese.  I said no.  Then he asked if I was Asian.  I guess he didn’t know his Asian countries that well, giving up quite easily.  Depending upon my mood, I’ll tell people after a few guesses.  When I’m feeling sassy (and this is usually the case), I tell them that I’m American.  Because I am.

I enjoyed my time in Beijing, but there are some things I won’t miss.  For starters, I won’t miss the weather.  July is quite possibly the worst time to go to China.  It is hot and humid.  The heat is an oppressive heat, and I use that word to convey that it seems like I can feel the heat pressing down on me.  The weather was nearly unbearably hot, and we were sweaty and sticky all the time.  You could almost feel the heat closing in on you.  If you’ve ever experienced the heat and humidity of the Midwest or the South (and probably the NE, so I guess anywhere except the West Coast), you know what I’m talking about.

I also won’t miss the aggressive, pushy Chinese culture.  I have a friend who said that her mom was the stereotypical Chinese mother.  I didn’t quite understand what that meant, but I do now.  Chinese people are aggressive and damn it, they get what they want- right now.  People are pushy in Beijing, and they shove when necessary.  One time, when I was making my way out of a crowded subway station, a guy pushed me aside only to stop right in front of me.  I have never before done what I did next, but I had had enough.  I aggressively place both my hands on his arm, pushed him aside, and never looked back.  If I weren’t a woman, I’m pretty sure he would have slugged me.  In Beijing, lines sometimes exist, but waiting your turn isn’t really a norm.  When we landed at the airport, nearly everyone from my flight headed out to the taxi stand.  All the foreigners waited their turn in a line, while the Chinese marched ahead and authoritatively claimed taxis.  “See, that’s the difference between white people and Chinese people,” said a white American 20-something guy as he greeted his family (presumably visiting him) and ushered them to the taxi stand.  Here, you have to be on your toes here and paying attention.  Otherwise, you will never get to use the ATM, go to the bathroom, or get your street food.  We aren’t perfect and patient in the U.S., but there was no “are you waiting in line?” or “oh, after you” in Beijing.  When I boarded the plane for the flight home, I paused at my seat and hoisted my luggage to the overhead compartment.  Behind me, I could hear a young Chinese woman say excuse me.  I thought to myself, this is simply a part of the boarding process that you have to deal with: everyone takes up room in the aisles and you have to patiently wait your freaking turn to pass by.  I mean, you’re on the plane and it’s not going to leave without you.  I ignored her and thought to myself, “yep, it’s time for me to go home.”

Weather and aggressive culture aside, Beijing was a lot of fun and it was a great experience.  Drew and I were able to combine work and play in our trip, visiting the Great Wall and other popular tourist destinations like the Forbidden City, Summer Palace, and the Olympic Park.  We explored the hutong, and we strolled around the Houhai Lake.  We saw a Peking opera, and we haggled at the Silk Market.  We became regulars with the nearby street vendors and at 85C.  And, of course, we ate our way through Beijing.

I will keep this blog up, but I am going to return to my other blog at http://www.chriswithak.blogspot.com.  Until I return to China, you can find me there.

Beijing, Day 24: the last supper

Today was our last day in Beijing.  It was quite low key.  We were going to go to the Temple of Heaven, on the account that it was heavily recommended by Drew’s adviser.  But on second thought, we realized that the chances that we’ll be here are extremely high (Drew’s research interest is China and so he’ll be back to do a language program and fieldwork, and I will probably at least visit).  And really, how many temples can one see in a month?

I ate my last egg sandwich, which made me a little sad.  I’ll miss those, and I’ll miss the street food.  For lunch, Drew and I went to eat dumplings, and it was certainly an experience.  Recently, I told Drew that if we weren’t vegetarians, it would be fun to enter a restaurant, point to anything on the menu, and wait and see what we get.  Well, we kind of did that today, and it backfired.

Drew was able to communicate that we didn’t eat meat.  Apparently, animal organs are an entirely different category, but I’ll get to that in a second.  Our server pointed out the section containing dumplings with no meat.  Drew ordered the egg and mushroom dumplings (my favorite!) and then we randomly picked two other kinds and ordered those.  He chose one, and I chose the other.  I picked one solely because the last character in the name looked like a firework.  I thought it looked neat.  Drew ordered a dish with eggplant, lots of garlic, and cilantro.  Then the server kept recommending another dish to us, and so I thought, “sure,  why not.  I’ll give that a whirl.”

We got our eggplant, and then we got a mystery dish.  Immediately, Drew said it looked like liver.  Seeing as how he told our server that we don’t eat meat, I really wanted it to be  something else.  Maybe it was an unattractive mushroom.  It’s a good thing we didn’t place bets because Drew would have won.  I’m not sure that I ever voluntarily ate liver when I did eat meat, but for some reason, after eating a tiny bit, I knew that this mystery dish was indeed liver.  Oh well.  When you simply point and order, you have to be prepared for stuff like this.  Why our server was hell bent on getting us to order this dish is beyond us.  Even if liver falls into the non-meat category, I’m not sure why that would be the dish to recommend to people who say they don’t eat meat.  Why not recommend the cucumbers?  Or the stir fried potatoes?  Oh well.  We weren’t upset.  There’s only so much you can do when you don’t speak Chinese.

Next we got the egg and mushroom dumplings, which are savory and delicious.  Mystery Dumpling #1 had egg and water chestnuts, and then Mystery Dumpling #2 had egg and dried shrimp.  This was a bummer, but again, we weren’t upset.  Even though we ate only half our meal, I still had fun walking in, pointing to something on the menu, and then waiting to see what we get.  After lunch, Drew said that if he didn’t eat any Chinese food for the next six months, he’d be okay with that.  While he was busy swearing off Chinese food, I was thinking that we should learn to make dumplings when we got home.

For our last meal in Beijing, we thought it was highly appropriate to eat…Italian food.  We didn’t plan on this.  We were headed to the Noodle Loft because I wanted to see chefs make hand pulled noodles.  Well, of course guidebooks always recommend the restaurants that are nearly impossible to find.  Drew and I wandered around for an hour and a half and never found it.  Sigh.  He said that it just wouldn’t be dinner if he didn’t walk a mile or two to get it.

So we stumbled upon Annie’s, an Italian restaurant that I remembered seeing in the guidebook.  Annie’s definitely was not a consolation prize.  The food was among the best I’d ever eaten.  We ate an eggplant melanase- eggplant, ricotta, and walnuts layered together and drizzled with balsamic vinegar.  Next we ate a mushroom risotto and a spinach ravioli.  Our server ground fresh black pepper over our food and I couldn’t believe that it had been nearly a month since I’d eaten anything with black pepper.  For dessert, we shared the tiramisu, which went down very nicely.

I don’t feel bad about eating Italian food for our last supper.  We have eaten Chinese food at least once every day for the past month.  I’m not sure that I’ve ever eaten food from one cuisine at least once every single day, so why start now?

Beijing, Day 23: the great wall (and a ming tomb and a jade factory)

To me, the stairmaster is a torture device.  I’ve given it a try a few times, but I’m not a fan.  And the machine that actually simulates climbing stairs?  Forget it.  You’d never get me on it.  I don’t mind stairs; I just don’t like flight after flight.  Where am I going with this?  You’ll see in a minute.

Drew and I went on a Great Wall tour.  We tried to go on our own, but that was an aborted attempt last Monday.  Turns out that while it’s simple to navigate the subway system, it is damn near impossible to navigate the bus system (that is, if you don’t speak Chinese).  We decided that the easiest way to see the Great Wall would be on a tour, and it was.  The nice thing about the tour was that it was all inclusive- we didn’t have to take care of transportation or tickets.  It was nice to just kick back and see the sights.  And this one was super cheap, about $30 for each of us.

There were about ten of us in our tour group, which was good because the last thing I wanted was a guide who would have to yell to us through a bullhorn.  The day started off at the Thirteen Ming Tombs, specifically the tomb of Emperor #13.  Visiting what is really just a fancy cemetery doesn’t sound particularly appealing, but I guess it depends on how you frame it.  The Ming Tombs are about 30 miles north of Beijing, and I’m pretty sure that few people would visit them were the tour not a package deal.

This was a quick tour; there was not a whole lot to see except for a hall and the underground palace, which is where the tomb is located.  Next, we headed to a Jade Factory, definitely a tourist trap.  We had a quick tour and then we left to browse the massive showroom of expensive jade jewelry and sculptures.  I sincerely doubt that anyone ever goes to the Jade Factory of their own volition.  I think that the factory attracts only tour groups, and it knows its place in the Great Wall package tours- it is the lunch destination.

After lunch, we headed to the Mutianyu section of the Great Wall.  It was really nice to get out of Beijing and into the country.  I saw some cows, which excited me so much that I nudged Drew and woke him to see.  We chose the Mutianyu section because it was close and not as touristy and crowded as the Badaling section.  I think this was a good choice.

We were given two hours to explore the Great Wall.  Now, there are two ways to actually get up to the Wall.  You can either take a cable car or you can climb.  Not walk, not stroll, but climb.  Well, not climb as in scale a mountain, but climb as in climb steps.  Lots of them.  Our travel book said that it would take an hour to climb to the Wall.  A woman in our tour group (who appeared to be in our age and athletic ability range) had recently visited and said that it took her 30 to 40 minutes.  So, we decided to climb because we were certain that we could and because we were certain that this was a critical part of the entire experience.

Remember how I told you that I think the stairmaster is a torture device?  I don’t know what I was thinking when I agreed to climb up to the Great Wall.  The hike isn’t just a gradual mosey on up the mountain.  It is comprised entirely of steps.  Sure there are some platforms to rest every few flights or so, but it is all steps.  It took us 30 minutes to reach the top.  Thirty minutes of solid stair climbing.  We were sweaty and hot when we got to the top, but we were good sports about the climb and we made it.  And yes, climbing to the wall was part of the experience.  It was truly an accomplishment, and I’m not sure if my Great Wall experience would have been the same had I not hauled my own ass up to the top.  Here we are when we finally reached the top:

Once we got to the Wall, there was more hiking to do.  It isn’t flat; there are hills and valleys.  After climbing up the wall, it was slightly daunting to think that if I wanted to see anything, there would be more climbing.  The Great Wall was built in sections from the 5th century BC to the 17th century AD, and countless workers died in the process.  I cannot imagine how it was possible to built such a mammoth structure.  It is so unbelievable, and something that I’ve seen many times in pictures.  It was really cool to see in person, even if it was just a small section.

I’m told that there are spectacular views from the Wall, but I’m not sure.  It was a smoggy and overcast day, so we couldn’t see too far into the distance.  Regardless, we could see enough into the mountains to wonder why building a wall was even necessary.  The mountains seemed impenetrable in our eyes.  I guess they weren’t enough to ward off pesky intruders.

Drew and I walked from tower to tower, enjoying the view and pausing to take note of how the wall snakes through the mountains.

The weather was humid, but despite this, it was surprisingly tolerable.  The heat has been nearly unbearable this past week, so I was nervous that we’d be miserable at the Wall.  It turned out to be cooler outside the city, and the towers provided some nice and refreshing breezes.  After exploring the Wall, Drew and I took the cable car down to the parking lot.  We had never done such a thing before, and it was really neat to float above the trees.  When we reached the end, we had to walk through the gauntlet of souvenir vendors to get to the parking lot.

There must be something about my demeanor because I am almost always able to stave off solicitors.  I think I’ve blogged about this before.  It doesn’t matter where I am or what people are selling, they usually leave me alone.  The only time that it isn’t true is when it comes to Mormon missionaries trying to convert me.  Then it appears that I have a giant invisible sign that says I am going straight to hell and need to be saved.  Anyway, I’ve gotten a bit off track here.  The point is that I was able to walk through the tourist trap gauntlet rather peacefully.  Drew, however, was not.  Every vendor was trying to sell him something- a t-shirt, a mask, a book.  It was kind of funny.  Vendors would try to hawk t-shirts for a dollar, then in the next breath, they would lower their price and offer 2 for a dollar.  Other vendors sold street food, and we even found a Subway:

If vendors were really savvy, they would sell cold showers and massages, because those are the things that you really need after you descend the Great Wall.

Here are the pictures from our day:

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lost in translation

There are times when things don’t always translate so easily from Chinese to English.  I saw a sign that said ‘Beijing Hospital for Femoral Head.’  I’m really not sure what that intends to say, and I can’t even conjure up a guess.  I’ve seen other peculiar phrases, like waxberry juice and the gruel store.  The gruel store was a restaurant, and judging by the number of customers at 9pm on a Saturday night, I guess none were phased by the name.  A sign promised ‘Forty Topping Tourist Attractions in China’ (this one is easy to decipher), and  a museum gift shop was referred to as a commodity area.

There are some things that have been interpreted and phrased in interesting ways.  Like French Fries with American characteristics.  Those potatoes sound as though they are having an identity crisis.  Kids, you can have your birthday party at Pizza Hut, where your guests will learn about Western dining knowledge.  Where do I sign up?

Sometimes words get misspelled or they’re missing a letter or two.  Like the Fuod Shuopp.  And the BBQ got dog.  My favorite is when it happens on t-shirts.  There is Make Live Not War, and knock off shirts like A & Fitch.  I saw a guy wearing a Harvey Milk t-shirt, or rather, Haryey Milk.  I wondered if the guy knew that he was wearing a campaign shirt for the 1st openly gay politician elected in the United States.  Not only do words get misspelled, but sometimes phrases simply make no sense at all.  Like Love All Nice.  And sometimes, people wear simply peculiar t-shirts.  You know the I (heart) NY t-shirts and the progeny they have inspired?  Well, I’ve seen I (heart) crap and I (heart) BJ.  It turns out that the I (heart) BJ t-shirts mean I (heart) Beijing, but you can probably identify with my initial confusion.  Oh, and I just don’t know about the crap t-shirt.  I actually did a double take to make sure I read it correctly.

This post is all in good fun, and I’m not mocking Chinese efforts to accommodate English speakers.  I really do appreciate it, and English is a tricky language so I can see the confusion.  It’s just that as our trip winds down, I decided to jot down all the interesting phrases and translations I’ve seen in the past few weeks.  Somewhere, there might be a Chinese blogger blogging about all the funny ways English speakers mess up their language, and it is quite possible that I’ve made her list.

Beijing, Day 22: haggling at the silk market, where foreign=rich

When it comes to haggling, there is a steep learning curve.  Drew and I headed to the Silk Market to do some shopping.  This isn’t just any kind of shopping though.  The Silk Market is one of the markets tourists go to in order to score cheap souvenirs and designer knock-offs.  It is six stories of wall to wall vendors selling the same shoes, clothes, tea sets, DVDs, watches, luggage, bags, and electronics, and more.

I had read up on haggling, particularly market haggling, so I considered myself prepared and forewarned about what would transpire.  I knew not to haggle unless I truly intended to buy.  I knew that vendors would call out to me, luring me to purchase their shirts or bags or watches.  I was aware that vendors might follow me, trying to entice me with whatever they were selling.  I knew that fast talking sales girls would simultaneously pressure me to buy and flatter me so that I would purchase their clothes.  More importantly, I knew that this would all happen so fast that before I knew it, I’d be handing over my cash.  Everything that I expected to happen happened, including the part about handing over my cash so quickly that I didn’t know what was going on.

I’m getting ahead of myself, let me back up.  Upon realizing that we didn’t pick up any souvenirs (except for the chopsticks from Wal-Mart), Drew and I decided to remedy this with a trip to the market.  It seemed like a good idea, and like it would be a good  touristy experience (it turned out to be both).  The Silk Market was packed with tourists, but not so packed that we couldn’t stroll up and down the aisles relatively comfortably.  On the first floor, we passed vendor after vendor selling t-shirts, outerwear, skirts, dresses, dress pants, suits, and much more.  I spied a cute lightweight peacoat and made the mistake of asking the price.  Then I made the mistake of asking to try it on.  Apparently I did this out of order, and I guess it was in poor form to ask about the price if I wasn’t sure if I was going to buy.  The vendor actually chased us away, waving good bye.

Drew and I had a Silk Market game plan: we would stick to our shopping list unless we stumbled across a deal that was nearly too good to be true.  On my list was a souvenir for a friend, a skirt, a t-shirt with English words that made no sense, a tea set, and an opera mask decoration for my wall.  On Drew’s list was any sort of interesting electronic gadget.  Here’s the spoiler: we stuck to the list.

You know how one-size-fits-all in the U.S. really just means extra large?  I mean, it’s not really one-size-fits-all or one-size-fits-most.  It’s one-size-fits extra large.  Well, in China, one-size-fits-all means small.  I stopped at a vendor to take a closer look at some skirts.  They had elastic waists, but they looked to small for me.  I held one up, and sure enough, it was too small.  I’m sure this was obvious, but the sales girl was relentless, telling me that it fit and that it was a beautiful color on me.  This time, I didn’t make the mistake of inquiring about the price and I just walked away.

As we were walking through the market, Drew got a little irritated with all the aggressive sales vendors.  Unexpectedly, I did not, but when I thought about the reason, I wasn’t surprised.  Because I am Asian and Drew is white, most of the vendors ignored me as I passed by.  And I just ignored anyone who did call out to me.  Drew, however, is nicer than me.  As he passed through, he would respond saying “no, thank you” or “I’m fine” or “I’m doing well” and so on.  I can see why it was irritating; I’d be overwhelmed too if I paused to respond to everyone.

I gave up on finding a skirt or funny t-shirt for myself (even though I found a cool one that said ‘winter’ and then had a very green tree), so I moved on to the souvenir for my friend.  I found a shirt that made me laugh out loud, so I decided to get it.  And this is the part  of the story where I handed my cash over so fast that I don’t know what happened.  I asked the sales girl how much for the shirt.  She punched a number on the calculator (this is how  we communicate), which was 195Y ($30).  I had decided that I wouldn’t spend more than $10 on the shirt, which was about 65Y.  The problem is that I immediately bargained for this number.  Then she lowered her price to 170Y, then I met her halfway, then she lowered her price (not meeting me halfway, by the way), and then before I knew it, I was handing over 100Y (about $15).  After the transaction was complete, she tried to sell me another shirt, which I don’t blame her for, seeing as how I’d just foolishly overpaid for the first one.  I knew I had been taken for a ride and I had to get out of there-quick.

Whewwww.  Drew and I perused the other floors, this time looking at tea sets and opera masks.  We decided that the key to being able to browse peacefully is to refrain from asking questions and refrain from touching anything.  As soon as you appear interested, that’s when vendors pounce on their prey.  We found a tea set and a mask that we decided we liked, so we took a break to talk about how much we’d be willing to pay.  This seemed like a good strategy, and it was.  We weighed the pros and cons of both purchases, and in the end, we decided not to get a tea set, but I still wanted the mask.  And besides, I decided that the best way to make myself feel better about severely overpaying for a shirt and getting played by a vendor was to buy something else.  Makes sense, right?

We went back to the mask, but this time we found these little condiment dishes (this was not an impulse buy; we had talked about these on a different day).  We picked out six and then went to haggle.  The vendor told us 20Y (a little over $3) for each.   Drew asked me how much I thought they were worth.  I said 1Y (about 15 cents ) each.  I knew this was ridiculously low, but I wasn’t going to make the same haggling mistake twice.  I wasn’t going to start out with my maximum price.  This time I would start ridiculously low and then very slowly increase my price.  The vendor dropped down to 10Y, and then I said 3.  She kept shaking her head at me, telling me that these dishes were porcelain.  She dropped down to 9, and then Drew said 6.  We ended up paying 40Y (a little over $6) for all 6.  Next, I tried to haggle for the mask.  The vendor typed 250 on the calculator.  (On a sidenote, after the t-shirt haggling, Drew passed along some advice, telling me that his friend’s mom starts off by bargaining for 10% of the price she is first quoted.  Granted, this would have been useful before I bought the t-shirt, but oh well, better late than never.)  I shook my head and typed in 15.  (I had intended to type in 25, but for some reason, I went even ridiculously lower- I was out for haggling redemption.)  The vendor gave an Oscar-worthy performance (I read that this would happen), feigning shock and shaking her head, telling me that I’m crazy (hey, I’ve been called worse).  She told me that the mask was handmade and hand painted.  She lowered her price, and I went up to 30.  She shook her head, so I walked away.  I had read that when you walk away, you will always be called back and offered a lower price.  Well, that didn’t happen, and she let me leave.

It wasn’t a problem, because I found another mask from a different vendor.  Before he quoted me a price, Drew told him that we had just walked away from a vendor whose price was too high- 250Y.  So this vendor quoted me 200Y (about $30).  I shook my head and punched in 20.  Like I expected, he feigned shock and told me the mask was handmade and hand painted.  He lowered his price, and I went up to 25 (no more of that meeting halfway bullshit).  And so we went back and forth, just like that.  He said that I’d never get it for a two-digit price.  At some point, I walked away, and he called me back.  When I punched in 55, he asked if I meant 55 in American money or Chinese money.  That’s a big difference, and I’m sure this is how some people get screwed.  I said Chinese money, of course.  During this whole process, the vendor 1) assumed that Drew is paying, and 2) assumed that Drew is rich.  He even says so, telling Drew that he has lots of money and can afford to pay.  Apparently, foreign equals rich.  Anyway, I had already decided that I will not pay more than 65Y (about $10) for the mask.  The vendor finally drops his price to two-digits: 98.  I slowly inch up, and finally we agree on 70.  Sweet, sweet victory!  Check it out:

I love it, I really do.  Drew has a mask from Honduras, and I have one from Chile.  This will be a fabulous addition to our collection.  It was a good day at the market and I feel good about our loot.  We spent 210Y (about $32) and got a mask, shirt, and condiment dishes.  Not a bad day, and an unforgettable and fun experience.  Turns out that haggling isn’t an annoyance, it’s part of the fun.  Sometimes I forgot that I was actually trying to buy something.  Oh, and by the way, I paid for the mask.

Beijing, Day 21: on jaywalking and the peking opera

It is my belief that there is a link between increased driver hostility and a lack of jaywalking laws.  Hear me out here.  In Irvine, jaywalking is against the law.  I rarely see anyone jaywalk.  Pedestrians wait patiently (or so it seems) for the walk sign, and rarely do I see people cross the street when there is a red light or the ‘don’t walk’ sign.  The only place where I see rather persistent jaywalking is next to the ARC (Anteater Recreation Center), where Palo Verde (grad student apartment complex) residents regularly jaywalk.  It is ironic that it is on our way to work out when we cannot be bothered with walking the equivalent of an extra city block to cross the street at the traffic light.

Anyway, so my theory is that since jaywalking is against the law, drivers are more friendly.  They don’t get frustrated or hostile, because pedestrians generally abide by the ‘walk’ and ‘don’t walk’ signs.  Rarely do pedestrians cross the street anytime they feel like it, and I think this makes for better driver-pedestrian relations.  Thus, drivers don’t nearly run you over, honk the horn, or make rude gestures.  In fact, the relations are so friendly that sometimes when I and a driver are approaching a street corner, the driver usually defers to me after an “after you,” “no, no, after you,” charade.

In contrast to my experience in Irvine, driver-pedestrian relations are almost downright hostile in cities without jaywalking laws.  Since pedestrians cross the street anytime they want, red light or walk sign or not, drivers are hostile.  They honk their horns and nearly run you over.  Even if you are not a jaywalker, you are still a target.  I have been a pedestrian in several major cities in the U.S. and now in Beijing.  Quite honestly, sometimes I fear for my life when I cross the street, especially here.  When I was in D.C., I developed the habit of sandwiching myself within a group of people whenever I crossed the street.  I decided that if I were in the middle, rather than leading or lagging, I would be less likely to get hit by a vehicle.  So far, this strategy works.

Sometimes, particularly in Beijing, it seems like pedestrians and drivers are playing a game of chicken.  Depending upon how fast the driver is driving, I almost always let them win.   Other pedestrians are more daring, and sometimes I’m surprised that they survive without a scratch.  Drivers have the big metal piece of machinery that can kill me, and that’s enough to make me concede.  I mean, I have nothing deadly on my person.  I do have my Sigg water bottle, but that is unlikely to cause severe damage unless if 1) it were full of water, and 2) I was able to solidly wack the driver over the head with it.  In all seriousness, I find my water bottle strategy about as useful and persuasive as the guns-as-self-defense argument: both are useless after you’ve already been attacked.  I mean, let’s say that I do get hit by a car.  What am I going to do?  Pull myself up off the ground and run after the driver (who is surely long gone and has already done the damage) with my water bottle in hand?

All right, enough about my jaywalking theory.  Let’s switch gears now.  Last night, Drew and I went to the opera at the Liyuan Theatre.  The back half of the theatre had stadium seating, but there were three sections near the front, where we sat at tables and drank tea, munched on some snacks, and made friends with a Brazilian couple.  We were nearly front row and center, and we felt like VIPs.

The opera was really cool- there were two shows and each one was a combination of acting, singing, and acrobatics.  The theatre had English subtitles, so I was able to follow along.  The costumes and the makeup were extravagant, bright, and colorful.  The actors were talented, and the shows were entertaining.

Beijing, Day 20: ask wf and summer palace

Drew and I started the day with lunch with his adviser, WF, and one of WF’s former students.  This provided us with the opportunity ask WF all of our puzzling questions about the things we had observed in Beijing.  We made a mental collection (with some help from the notepad function on my phone) of all the things we wanted to ask him, known as the ‘Ask WF’ list.

We asked him about parking on sidewalks and learned that cars are a relatively new phenomenon in Beijing, and so people are still working things out, like where to park.  There aren’t parking garages here, so people park anywhere they can.  We also asked about turtles.  I’ve seen turtles on sale at Wal-Mart, which is a little distressing.  We learned that turtles can be pets or food, but not pets first and then food.  We also asked about the lack of Mexican food.  Apparently, Chinese people just don’t like Mexican food.  WF said that even his Chinese friends living in the U.S. don’t like Mexican food.  But there’s more: Chinese people don’t want to associate with anything Mexican.  Food is more than just food- it’s a status symbol.  Starbucks, McDonald’s, Pizza Hut, and Kentucky Fried Chicken are embraced because they are signs of privilege and upward mobility.  Not so with a Taco Bell.  Finally, we asked about interracial relationships.  It’s not that they’re looked down upon; it’s just that they are rare.  Chinese people see interracial relationships depicted in movies and television, but not in real life.  Apparently, Drew and I are an anomaly.

Later in the afternoon, Drew and I went to Summer Palace.  This summer retreat was commissioned  by Emperor Qianlong for his mother’s 60th birthday in 1750.  (that is some birthday present)  Many palaces were plundered and burned by Anglo-French forces in 1860, and instead of funding the navy, China renovated the Summer Palace.  Empress Dowager Cixi retired here in 1889 and later moved the seat of government from Forbidden City to Summer Palace.  I can see why.  The Summer Palace is way cooler than the Forbidden City.

Summer Palace is really big (700 acres), and most of it is water.

We arrived around 5pm when it was finally cooling off and when many of the tour buses had departed.  If it seemed like we were elbow to elbow with people at Forbidden City, it seemed like we had the place to ourselves at Summer Palace.  It reminded me of Central Park, except with a really big lake.  And temples.  And a really big hill.  Okay, so maybe it’s not like Central Park at all and it only reminds me of it because of all the trees.  Anyway, Drew and I wandered around, exploring the temples and halls.

On our way home, we stopped off at 85 Degrees for some bread, and we found a woman making sushi.

Of course I had to have some.  I got a roll with carrot, cucumber, yellow pepper, and kimchi and a few unidentifiable sauces.  Mmmm, it was so yummy, I ate most of it before Drew could have a chance.

Below are more pictures of our day:

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Beijing, Day 19: national art museum of china

Whenever I visit a new place, I can’t pass up the chance to check out at least one art museum.  Today, I headed up to the National Art Museum of China.  Photography was not allowed, but when in China, you do what the Chinese do and break the rules.  There were a few outdoor sculptures, and an aboriginal art exhibit.  There were drawings, which seemed like they might have been of a more traditional Chinese art form.  I also enjoyed the contemporary art, which reminded me of Jackson Pollock.

The highlight was an exhibition by an artist who makes sculptures out of wood, stainless steel, styrofoam, and other materials.  It was all quite impressive, but his wood sculptures were the best.

Check out my pictures:

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Beijing, Day 18: on (not) tipping and a last trip to wal-mart

Tipping is not the norm in China, which feels a little strange because it seems like I have to tip everyone at home.  I really enjoy the no tip culture, and I don’t mean to sound cheap by saying this.  I always tip at home, regardless of whether or not I get good service.  I just don’t like the obligation when the service is bad (in these instances I do leave a smaller tip and let the management know why), but I do it anyway because I know that servers are depending upon me (and everyone else) to tip.

Here’s the ironic part: there is no tipping in restaurants, but I swear that the service is better here.  It’s refreshing, actually.  The servers here are attentive and someone is always available to come take our order, bring us a to go box, and take care of our check.  We never have to search around for a server when we need assistance.  I like the attitude of, “do your job and you’ll get a fair wage”, instead of “let’s pay you a shitty wage and make you ingratiate yourself to people for tips to make up the rest.”

When there is a no tipping culture, everyone gets the same service.  The quality of the service is not dependent upon your server’s assessment of the probability that you will leave a generous tip.  I don’t know how many times I’ve received bad service at a restaurant, only to look around and see my server giving much better service to other patrons.

Today was our last trip to Wal-Mart.  Drew and I leave on Wednesday morning, so we didn’t need much food to get us through the remaining week and weekend.  I know I just complained about not being able to shop in peace at Wal-Mart, but I’m going to miss it a little bit.  I’ll miss wandering up and down the halls, looking at the new and interesting stuff.  And that’s just what Drew and I did yesterday.  After realizing that we hadn’t purchased any souvenirs yet, we bought some chopsticks.

Beijing, Day 17: on food diversity

I have come to the conclusion that the subways in Beijing and the freeways in Southern California are not that dissimilar.  Both have their rush hours of course, and both are incredibly busy and crowded at all freaking hours of the day.  Sometimes when the freeways are clogged, I ask myself “where the hell did all these people come from and where are they going?”  I sometimes find myself asking the same question here.  Fortunately, there is no stop and go foot traffic down in the subway, but there are always massive crowds coming in to the station, going out, and transferring between lines.  And like the freeways, there are always those people who weave in and out of the crowd, trying to shave a few seconds off their travel time.

Tonight, Drew and I ate veggie burgers at Hutong Pizza.  Several online sources said that it served up the best veggie burger in Beijing, so we had to check it out.  The burgers were good, they were homemade, and I was craving french fries.  It was glorious.  I guess we’re both getting a little tired of Chinese food- we eat it everyday, but we also have to eat more than once a day.  After dinner, we ate McFlurrys from McDonald’s for dessert.  Never in my life did I ever think that I would travel thousands of miles away from home and voluntarily go to a McDonald’s.

I probably take many things for granted at home, but one of them is food options.  I didn’t realize this until I left the country.  Beijing is bigger than any city in the United States, but it lacks the food diversity that exists practically anywhere in the U.S.  Here, Drew and I have our pick of Chinese restaurants, but if we crave a different cuisine, our options are pretty limited.  It’s easier to find Thai or Japanese food, but it’s more difficult to find American, Italian, and Mediterranean food, and we have completely given up on finding Mexican food.

At home, I’m sure there are more options in urban areas than in rural areas, but overall, our food options are quite diverse.  We have a variety of restaurants to eat at, and a diverse array of foods to pick from in the grocery store.  We have imported many different ethnic cuisines, and we can have our pick any day of the week, whether we eat out or stay in.  Maybe we import other cuisines out of necessity.  After all, all we’ve managed to export is McDonald’s, Starbucks, and Kentucky Fried Chicken.  What does that say about us?