I've spoken before about how Chinese dislike cold beverages. For example, most water coolers (those office-style water dispensers) don't cool water at all. The blue tap usually just dispenses room temp water.
To the right is more evidence of this predilection. See the word "cold" that's written underneath the one can of Coca-Cola? That's there to let buyers know that that's the button that will dispense a cold can. The others? Room temp.
I've noticed, too, that some of the little markets around our house have refrigerated cases for beverages (the free-standing kind with glass doors), but they don't plug them in. They use the cases as shelf-space only. This seems weird to me and reminds of food going bad -- probably because the only time I see room temp food in a fridge is after a power-outage that lasts for days.
Today we ate at a new place for lunch today, a little eatery near the BNU dorms.
We sat down and a server came over to us and immediately asked, "Do you want a hamburger?" This was kind of funny because since we're foreigners, and she assumed we were from the U.S., she also assumed that we would want burgers. Some of my students think that that's all that U.S. people eat.
Anyway.
D did want a burger and enthusiastically accepted her offer. They had two sizes, she told us, "big" and "little".
I, however, wanted something a bit lighter. Since the menu was all in characters, I tried to ask her about other food.
Me: Do you have noodles? Her: No, but we will in 3 days. Me: Do you have something with meat and vegetables in it? Her: We have chicken and we have cow and we have vegetables too. Me: Can you bring me something with vegetables and chicken? Her: Yes.
It was fabulous that our server spoke English -- not a lot (as you can tell from the dialogue), but infinitely more English than we speak Chinese. And it was kind of funny that she referred to the meat by their "animal" names, something that I do just to make a point sometimes (ex., it's not a hamburger, it's a ground up cow).
When my meal came, I was pleasantly surprised. It wasn't a weird concoction of things, it was a scoop of rise with sauteed greens and a seasoned, broiled chicken leg.
D has a surprise of a different sort: his hamburger ended up being a fried chicken patty with sweet mayo (that's the only kind they have here) on a sesame seed bun. No, the kitchen hadn't made a mistake. Apparently, a "hamburger" in China often refers to chicken sandwiches:
The Chinese word for hamburger (hanbao) often refers to all sandwiches containing cooked meat, regardless of the meat's origin. This includes chicken burgers, as KFC is very popular in China.
Of course, this incident set of an hour-long dialogue in which we tried to hash out the definition of "burger." D insisted that a true burger must be made of at least 51% ground cow beef. My main criteria was only that it be made of ground meat.
I'm not sure if this sign (seen in Macau) inspires confidence or not. On the one hand, it seems like a false promise. On the other hand, these folks could be so dedicated to providing quality pharmaceuticals that they had this expensive sign made.
On Saturday we visited Macau again. This time our pace was a bit more leisurely.
I will spare you the details of our journey over. Suffice it to say that we tried to take a recommended "shortcut" and got a bit mixed up. And at one point were were offered a ride to our destination by a "simple" man (think: Cantonese-speaking Sling Blade) whose taxi was a bicycle with a wooden cart attached to it. (An aside -- I totally wanted to take a ride in the thing; D was the one who declined. Anyway).
Macau has a cool landscape. Because it was established by the Pourtugese, a good deal of the architecture is European. There are old churches and things around, and a lot of the street signs are in Pourtegese, which is infinitely easier to understand than Chinese. Macau also looks a lot like Kowloon with its twisty hilly streets. I kept thinking of it as a "snack-sized" Hong Kong all day.
Macau street:
Here is a photo of the ruins of St. Paul's. An info site for Macau tourism says this about the ruins:
Designed by an Italian Jesuit, and, with the assistance of Japanese Christian artisans who had fled from feudal persecution in Nagasaki, the church was built from 1602 to 1637. In 1835, a fire burned it to the ground, leaving only the façade, the staircase and portions of a wall. It remained unchanged until a restoration was undertaken and completed in the summer of 1991.
In the culinary world, Macau is known for its egg tarts. Here is what a Portugeuse egg tart looks like. Notice that the top of the tart is much darker than a regular Chinese egg tart:
This is D after tasting the egg tart (he didn't like it very much, so I got to eat mine and the remains of his):
I also sampled some tasty cookies from this woman, who took little hunks of dough, flattened them in these super hot presses, and then dumped them into a basket underneath. The result tasted like pizelles (those Italian cookies) without the anise.
While Macau is know for its tasty food, it is perhaps best as the gambling capital of China -- it's the only place in China where gambling is legal. Until recently, one Chinese dude had a monopoly on all the betting action. But now, some other investors have broken into the market. For example, there a Sands casino in Macau. And the newest addition is The Venetian. It's not as impressive as the one in Las Vegas, but it does have a Fatburger, which we made a visit to: We did do more than just eat all day, but you wouldn't know it from the photos that I took.
"Care package" has taken on a whole new level of loveliness to me since I've been here. Pictured to the right is that latest haul from my fabulous parents. The canned goods got sort of battered during the journey (I'll eat them anyway), but the Rice Krispy treats were in perfect shape. Sadly, the Fritos were powdered by the time they arrived, but they were very tasty on top of some soup. Most importantly, the box included a new batch of Claritin D (sorely needed here with all the pollution).
There was even a treat for D (real Hellman's mayo) and for Jameson ("Special Kitty" cat treats and some soft cat food, which she totally loved).
Our last trip to Hong Kong took an interesting turn. We missed the last ferry from Hong Kong (Central) to Zhuhai -- this ferry leaves at 9:30 pm, which is insanely early (IMHO). So, we decided to try for Plan B: take a ferry from Hong Kong to Macau and then cross the Macua-China border into Gongbei, which is part of our local area. From there, it would just be an easy bus ride home.
[A not-so-brief digression. Hong Kong and Macau are part of China, but they are S.A.R.'s -- Special Administrative Regions. As such, they basically operate as separate countries -- different laws and what not. Also, mainlanders -- people from China proper -- need visas to enter these regions. Since we carry U.S. passports, we don't need a visa to get into Hong Kong or Macau, we just need a multiple-entry visa for China so that they'll let us back into the mainland. Whenever you leave the mainland to go to one of these places, you have to go through customs, which means getting your passport stamped, etc.].
Here is a map of the region:
Anyway, we got on the jetfoil to Macau, and the ride was uneventful. There are jetfoil ferries that run between Hong Kong and Macau 24-hrs a day, bringing the wealthy Hong Kongers to Macau to gamble [Macau is China's Las Vegas] and then bringing back home again after they lose their money.
I was pretty relaxed on the ferry ride until I realized that we wouldn't be arriving in Macau until about 11:00 pm. This worried me because the Macau-China border closes at midnight, and you have to be "in the doors" of the immigration building before that or they might shut you out. And having never been in Macau, I had no idea where the border was in relation to the ferry terminal where we'd be arriving.
When we got to Macau, took about 20 minutes to get through immigration. When we got outside, I looked around and couldn't see the border to China, so we waited in a taxi queue to get a ride. When it was finally our turn, I hopped in the taxi and shouted "Zhuhai!" (the name of our city). The taxi driver looked at the clock on his stereo (which, by this time, read about 11:15) and said "China?!?" (as in, "there is no way we are gonna make it on time"). But he did what all taxi drivers over here do -- took off like a bat out of hell and sped us at top speed through the relatively quiet streets of Macau. Turns out the border is a good 12 minutes away from the ferry terminal. Along they way I amused myself by trying to read the Portuguese signs on all the shops -- Macau uses both Chinese and Portuguese. It kept me from stomping on the car accelerator to make the driver go even faster.
We finally screeched to a halt outside of a giant administrative-looking building. As I tossed some bills at the taxi driver, he shouted "straight! straight!" and pointed straight ahead, telling us where we needed to go. I think that he was more than a little pleased with himself for getting us there before it was too late.
Keep in mind that throughout all of this, we were hauling around all the crap that we'd bought in Hong Kong.
We hurried into the building, quickly filled out some immigration paperwork, and stood in line to get our passports stamped. But this line wasn't even to get into China, it was just to leave Macau. By this point I was kind of freaked out. What would happen, I wondered, if we managed to leave Macau but didn't make it across the street to the Chinese immigration building? Would we be able to get back into Macau or would be have to stay in between the borders all night in a sort of limbo?
We were allowed to leave Macau, and we hurried 100 meters or so to the Chinese immigration building. And here's where the real fun began. People were queued up in different rows. Some lines were supposed to be just for foreigners and some for mainlanders. But the mainlanders would just dive under the metal-railing barriers that separated the lines and cut in front of whomever they wanted to. And a lot of people were drunk, so there was that to contend with. A woman in line behind me (from Hong Kong, I think -- she had on fancy clothes) was being harassed by a group of drunk businessmen. People kept trying to cut in front of me, but I made a barrier with my arms and legs so that they couldn't get through.
At about 11:55, we made it up to the immigration counter. Stamp, stamp, and we were through (not before the immigration officer called her supervisor over to double-check my photo. In my passport photo I have a shaved head and wire-rimmed glasses. Now I have a hair and different glasses).
But when we left the immigration building, we still had one more feat to accomplish: get across the huge public square outside the immigration building and into a taxi.
During the day, this square is filled with all sorts of people. Families. Shoppers. People selling stuff. At night, the place is barely even lit. And instead of being populated by "normal" folks, it's populated by night time solicitors. Illegal taxi drivers who sidle up to you and whisper, "Taxi, miss? Taxi" Women with their babies in their arms who flank you on either side, keeping pace with your fast walking, speaking in low and tired voices of their need for money. Old men with missing limbs try to solicit change.
We managed to make it through the square without giving away any money, and I flagged down a taxi (too late for buses -- they stop running around 11:00). I fell into the backseat and told the driver where to go. I was too tired to even be embarrassed about speaking bad Chinese. The driver understood me, so all was well.
By the time that D and I got home, it was close to 1:00 am. Needless to say, we had a celebratory drink!
D enjoying a Freshness Burger "Classic WW Burger" in Kowloon. If this were a newspaper article, the caption would read: D Declares: "Best Burger I've Ever Had!"
He did say that, and he was serious.
The Classic WW Burger is Freshness' biggest burger, but it's no match for a burger-deprived D and his giant Irish hands. Freshness Burger is a Japanese burger joint -- and I do have to admit that it's pretty fabulous. I think that it has to do with the beef they use -- 100% Australian non-hormone open-range cow. It's very, very tasty.
I've been tagged by academom do do the "7 Facts About Me" meme that's circulating. Here are the rules (which I yoinked from Susan):
1. List the link to your tagger and also post these following rules. 2. Share 7 facts about yourself on your blog - some random, some weird, etc. 3. Tag 7 people at the the end of your blog also leaving the links to their blogs 4. Let them know they are "TAGGED" by leaving a comment on their blog
Since this is a blog about China-n-me, I'm gonna do a list of 7 Facts About Runningburro in China.
The List:
1. Since I've been living here, I've been eating more meat than I do when I am in the U.S. While it's true that the Chinese eat far less meat than the average U.S. citizen does, the average Chinese person eats far more meat than I prefer to. It's very difficult to get truly vegetarian food here because everything seems to have some sort of animal product in it.
2. Even though riding the buses here can be really gross (I don't know how many times I've watched someone pick his/her nose and then hold onto those dangley bus handles or the bus poles), I do love being car-free. It's very liberating NOT owning a car. When we are ready to move again, I hope to live in a place with a good public transportation system.
3. I think that the fruit in China is weird. Sure, you can get apples and oranges and bananas, but there's also lots of fruit that's just bizarre and not fruit-like in the usual sense of the word. Like durian, the world's stinkiest fruit (imagine eating an avocado crossed with a pineapple crossed with the smelliest, runniest French cheese you can buy). My favorite new fruit so far is the dragon fruit. I buy these all the time.
4. I've discovered that I am a snob when it comes to buying clothing. In the U.S. I was pretty laid-back about what I bought -- the cheaper it was, the better (with the exception of my indispensable Macabi skirt). Here, though, the quality of clothing is shockingly poor. The jeans, shirts, and shoes at the clothing markets might look good -- will even have designer labels on them -- but are more cheaply assembled than anything you could find in the States. I mean, the clothes here make me realize how good Wal-Mart's clothing actually is (Wal-Mart's clothes aren't stylish, but they won't fall apart in the wash and they're probably not dyed with toxic dye).
5. I think that Chinese babies are cuter than Caucasian babies because Chinese babies don't look all squashed and red. I even find myself smiling at all the little kids around here, which comes as a shock, I'm sure, to those of you who know me.
6. Living here is probably turning me into a red-blooded American.
7. I haven't eaten cat or dog yet, but I might if it were offered to me.
I haven't been talking much about Gourmet Wu lately because he's been out of town on a business trip. For two weeks I've suffered without my thrice-weekly prepared meals (eating too many cups of instant noodles and not enough "real" food).
Fortunately, the Chef is back in town. And tonight's dinner is an extra-special treat: meat balls (pig), mashed sweet potato, and salad. The meat balls are really tasty. I might boil up some pasta (Barilla, which costs me about 4 USD a pack) and eat the meat balls on top of it.
See that can of Coca-Cola on the right? It's Chinese coke -- pretty much indistinguishable from U.S. Coca-Cola except for one thing: the version 1.0 pop-top. Over here, beer and soda (or "pop" if you're from Western PA) come in cans with those sharp-edged pain-in-the-ass pull-tabs.
There really is a difference between these pull-tabs and the more modern tabs. These old-school tabs test one's dexterity. When we first arrived here, I was the designated beer opener because D couldn't get his cans open without 1) breaking of the tab before removing it completely or 2) spilling beer from using too much force when pulling the tab off. From all the practice I've gotten these last few months, my technique is smooth. I can hold a can and remove the tab with the same hand I'm using to hold the can. A one-handed operation.
D and I were trying to remember why they stopped using these kinds of tabs in the U.S. Anyone got any thoughts about it?
You are on a public bus and someone has two plastic grocery bags, sitting on the bus floor, filled with chunks of a freshly slaughtered animal. The bags are leaking blood, which is forming a sort of river that is running down the length of the bus floor toward you. You:
a) scream and point hysterically (surely someone will do something!) b) barf c) pass out d) make disparaging comments about public buses in China e) calmly move to the back of the bus so as not to soil your shoes
Yes indeed, my answer is "e" (this happened this past week on my way to work). Looks like I am getting used to to what passes for "normal" in this place.
Despite having waayyyy too much work to do, D and I escaped to Hong Kong on Saturday to stock up on some supplies. We set out for Juizhou Port, and took the ferry to Kowloon. We had some time to kill before the ferry left, so we had breakfast at the little cafeteria at the port. Last time we were there, we couldn't quite stomach it -- food left out, typical Chinese hygiene standards (i.e., low*). But we must be getting used to things here because this time we didn't even bat an eye before digging in:
Once we arrived in Kowloon, we returned to the shopping center that we visited the first time we went Kowloon, and I was hell-bent on finding some comfy shoes (my dogs have been killin' me lately) and some tee-shirts that actually fit. D was in search of any and all clothes that fit.**
Our haul from the mall: Birkenstocks (both for me and D), several "fun" books (Margaret Atwood novels), Lush shampoo and conditioner, and some Benefit lotion (saucily named, "Do it Daily"). I love my new shoes for two reasons. First, they're f-ing comfortable. Second, since they're clogs, they also remind me of my bestest friend academom who has a fondness (addiction to?) clogs.
Since we'd already toured part of Kowloon on our last visit, we decided to take the Star Ferry to the main part of the Hong Kong, a part of town called "Central." This ferry is a no-hassle affair. You just leave the shopping center and walk down to the pier and follow the signs for the central-bound ferry. Then, you put 2.20 HKD in a machine, which lets you through a gate and into a holding pen for the boat. The trip across the water is short -- maybe 10 minutes. The boat looks like a "real" ferry (as D described it) -- sides open to the water; benches for seats; sailors who hoists up the thingie-you-walk-across-to-get-onto-the-boat. It's good fun zipping across the harbour and seeing all the boats milling around. Here is a picture of one (of many):
Riding on the boat made me happy:
Once in central, we toured a bit of the city. It's an incredibly hilly place. Imagine the terrain of Pittsburgh mixed with the hilliest parts of San Francisco mixed with Midtown Manhattan mixed with what you think a big Chinese city would look like. It's fabulous -- narrow twisty streets and neon signs and skyscrapers everywhere. People jamming the streets. High-end shops mixed with junk stores. It's a very exciting place to be.
I don't have any pictures, because they really wouldn't do the place justice. Maybe next time we'll get to go up Victoria Peak and I can take some photos of the view.
Footnotes: * D and an ex-partner of his once had a phrase to describe weather that was hotter-than-hot: "Texas hot." This phrase was created after a cross-country trip landed them in Texas in the summer. In the same spirit, D and I have taken to using the phrase "China clean," as in "Is it clean or is it China clean" (meaning, is is clean, like how my mom thinks of clean or is is "clean" -- what passes for clean around here). It's been very useful.
** On the subject of shopping for clothes: the Chinese seem to be really intolerant of larger-sized people, viewing them as just one notch above slothfulness and depravity. If you think that the U.S. has size-ism issues, take a trip to the PRC. [Edited to add: D wants me to add that people around here seem to view larger folks as handicapped, too. This is true. Whenever we are walking with Chinese colleagues and have to ascend a big flight of stairs, they always turn to D and comment, "Maybe you have trouble getting up the stairs?" Never mind that he works out 5 times a week. They equate thinness with health and (for some reason I have not been able to understand) strength. Of course, this is a nation that views ping pong as a rough-and-tumble sport.]
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