Good evening everyone!
Another week full of tasty bites, new sites and travel has bombarded my senses, just waiting to be remembered, the first main attraction coming to us in the form of: what do I do when given a free weekend without program planned activities? Shop, eat and read of course!
Sleeping in should be added to the list as well, a treat we all yearn for during the weeks of exhausting 8am classes and early wake-up calls on big weekend trips. The beauty sleep prepared us for the overwhelming bustle of Yaxiu market, a five story "mall" packed with stalls selling mostly clothing, bags and shoes, and only two buses and a subway ride away. Apparently less crowded and touristy than the famed Silk Market (where I have yet to venture), Yaxiu stocks "brand name" items and plenty of quirky Asian clothing to cure a shopping itch, especially if one is willing to dig deep and refine the haggling skills. It takes a fair amount of time to browse each floor, especially the basement floor where the bags, belts and shoes live- my favorite! This floor is perhaps the most diverse in terms of selection, from "Converse" and "Vans" in every color, style and detailing imaginable, "Tevas" and hiking boots, a rainbow of sporty Puma and Diesel knock-offs, and off course the countless women's sandals, pumps, flats, boots and so on. All squeezed among the stalls selling purses, laptop cases, "man purses" (a staple in this city), backpacks of the student and camping types and popular knock-offs of Louis Vitton, LeSportSac,
and others I could not begin to list. This trip, I left with only a pair of chocolate-colored Puma Speedcat sneakers, classy leather sandals, a pair of linen shorts and a striped hoodie shirt. The clothing selection is dominated by small sizes and men's polo shirts, but if you know your style and what you're looking for, you'll likely find it at Yaxiu. Then you can enjoy a meal on the top floor, at the nicest fast-food court I have encountered, with nearly twenty Asian food options. I might just have to return to Yaxiu.
The excitement of shopping necessitated a restful day of study, so I ventured to the other side of town (back to the neighborhood of Sanlitun where Yaxiu is located) to try a burrito at The Rickshaw, and relax at The Bookworm. The Rickshaw provides a menu catered to the expat community, with American breakfasts, a few Mexican favorities, buffulo wings and a popular happy hour, but as we let the manager/owner know, the burritos were not up to standards of Californian college students, mainly due to the over-abundance of chicken and lack of rice, beans and cheese. Our disappointment spurred a discussion about the most successful types of restaurants to open in Beijing, from burrito shops and cafes to smoothie spots and breakfast nooks, partly nursing our cravings and partly dreaming about business ventures. Several hours spent working on an essay at The Bookworm, and I nearly forgot that I was in China- I might as well have been in San Francisco, surrounded by English language books and yuppie clientele (mostly white, though some French and some Chinese), except that I was scribbling away in Chinese.
That was two weekends ago, a relaxing break that turned out to be hardly enough for the coming week. As I prepared for another midterm in both classes last Thursday, I ventured down the block for a few favorite goodies: freshly pulled noodles, muslim bread, and all-you-can-drink-and-snack-on sweets. The noodle man pulls the "la mian" as you watch, working so fast that you can hardly see how he separates each strand of the soft dough with his fingers, then splashes them into a vat of boiling water, only to be removed in minutes and added to broth for customers, with a scoop of stewed meat on top.
The restaurant is certainly the local equivalent of a neighborhood diner, or at least that kind that looks a bit grungy on the surface but still serves a consistently satisfying meal for a decent price. To fulfill my addiction to bread, I visited the nearby Muslim restaurant, which has a brick oven outside to bake crusty rounds and tempt the passerby. I tried soft flat bread and something that resembles a bagel with a hard crust and sesame seads- both worth my fifty cents.
As for the drinks and snacks, those were also worth the RMB 18 (less then $3). For this reasonable price, one selects any and as many drinks from a menu of teas, iced coffees, milk teas, fruit juices, ice creams, and fruity blends. This wonderful service comes from the local branch of a chain of 24-hour teahouses, where students go to hang out and study for long afternoons, munching on lightly salted dried peas, fava beans and watermelon seeds. Why such venues do not seem to exist in California baffles me.
Our evening of studying have been interrupted by massive thunderstorms, not the first we have had, but perhaps the most exciting because the lightening has recently been striking close enough to see the bolts through usual haze and stormy clouds. One night, we spent at least an hour watching mesmerized from a balcony and a window, deciding which Chinese character the flashes of lightening resembled, much like calling out the animal profiles of fluffy white clouds across a blue sky.
After midterm, the last planned weekend trip for the summer program brought us to Shanxi, a region northwest of Beijing about a 12 hour train ride away. Once again I was terribly sick during the first day of travel, suffering from headaches, aching muscles, fever and chills. I believe my fatigue was merely from a buildup of stress and sleep deprivation, as the exhaustion faded after two full nights of sleep thanks to my friend NyQuil. During the first day of sight-seeing I dragged my feet like a zombie through the ancient city of Pingyao, once the financial capital of China during the Qing dynasty.
We climbed the ancient wall that surrounds the city, built for military protection but also symbolizing the cultural value of intelligence and education: the 72 larger towers represent the 72 people of great wisdom, while 3000 battlements honor 3000 disciples of Confucius. While the view of the city from the wall is quite magnificent, one does not soon forget that invaders died in the traps of Pingyao residents along the wall, such as giant spiked rolling pins dropped from over 50 feet up.
These walls now protect original and restored buildings, many filled with shops selling knick-knacks to tourists, hostels and hotels, restaurants and shoemakers, and of course museums in the courtyards of important officials, the first private bank and the judicial courts. The rich history was difficult to fully appreciate without extensive historical knowledge of the area, but our sweet tour guide’s facts and explanations gave enough life to the buildings to get a taste of the city’s character and cultural importance.
For instance, the depressions on the floor in front of the judge’s stand were the marked locations for the defendants and prosecutor to kneel, presenting their cases and awaiting the judge’s decision. I kneeled in the spot designated for the accused, imaging the fear and horror of the court’s ruling expressed by throwing a black or red tipped stick to the ground in front of the accused- red for the guilty.
We strolled through the prison (wood-fired heated beds and a stove in the cells!) and viewed the holding cells (like wooden cages out of a movie!) before wandering amongst the stalls of souvenirs. Despite my low energy, I managed to bargain for an intricately carved wooden comb with the image of a dragon, and even got the carver to etch my Chinese name on the backside! This purchase was as exciting as the delicious crispy, fried, sweet corn fritters served at lunch!
On the way to the next attraction, I was distracted by more food, namely a thin, crispy snack baked on the street called Shi Tou Bing- basically meaning “rock pancake”. The women roll out dough dotted with black sesame seeds and green onion until it is a thin pancake, then lay it atop small, smooth, black rocks heated in wok above fire. The dough is covered with
more hot rocks, and baked until it’s a crispy chip with indentations of the bumpy rocks. I have yet to see this snack in Beijing, but the other prevalent snack in Shanxi never seems to be in short supply anywhere in China- sunflower seeds. Whether flavored with green tea (my favorite), meat, milk flavor or sold straight from the flower, these delicate snacks are available everywhere!
Next we strolled through the extensive courtyards of the Qiao family- the legacy of five wealthy generations of businessmen, all from a single man who started selling bean curd in Inner Mongolia. The story goes that poor Mr. Qiao traveled to Inner Mongolia looking for work, selling bean curd on the streets to travelers until he realized that a hotel would be quite
profitable in the heavily traveled area. The business grew immensely, and eventually the family owned restaurants and hotels in cities all over China. Their five generations of wealth is remarkable in Chinese culture because wealth is said to last no more than three generations, as the latter generations become lazy and spoiled to the point of losing their wealth. Thus, the beautiful Qiao residence, where the movie “Raising the Red Lantern” was filmed, seems to be the model of a family dynasty, with over 60 traditional courtyards housing museums (with models of miniature Chinese people demonstrating cultural events) and a gorgeous garden with a pavilion above a waterfall flowing into a pond bordered by willows and lotus flowers.
The serenity of the Qiao home was replaced by claustrophobic fear at the Hanging Temple. As expected at tourist attractions throughout China, crowd control is minimal if existent at all, resulting in herds of eager travelers packing into small areas, even on the narrow walkways of a temple built into the side of a cliff. The safety of the structure was questionable, with some supporting posts only doing work when enough people create a large enough load to bear down on the thin posts, but I suppose if it’s lasted so many years with so many tourists passing through, it must be safe enough. While we shuffled along at a rate of 10 centimeters a minute (not too much of an exaggeration), we peered into the colorful shrines that are famous for combining Taoist and Buddhist elements. As crowded as it was, the hour we spent walking through the temple was less time than we spent on the bus at the park entrance, stuck in traffic. Our bus did not move at all for over an hour as we waited for space on the narrow mountain highway stuffed with tourists, buses, and construction trucks- a perfect
example of traffic in China.
Unfortunately, the time we spent
waiting meant less time at the last stop of the trip: the Yungang Grottoes, a group of about 45 caves with thousands of carvings of statues both large (up to 70 meters tall) and small (down to palm-sized Buddhas,
disciples and story characters). Over 20 large caves are each filled with a towering carving of a Buddha statue, each representing the emperors of the dynasty that built the caves while their capital was in nearby Datong city. Each statue is different, some painted in bright colors, others in the natural dim gray stone, some standing, some sitting, different dress and gestures, all to reflect the character or accomplishments of the emperor. For instance, one emperor who let many innocent people die is carved with his left hand held over his heart, a symbol of his regret and apology. As we arrived as the park was closing and the sun setting, the lack of tourists and warm light created a calming atmosphere among the immense, faintly smiling Buddhas.
However, my awe was tinged with sadness, as these 1500 year-old relics have survived war and weather, yet seemed to suffer the most from the hands of well-meaning preservationists. While trying to prevent erosion of the rock and the effects of coal dust polluted air, efforts to cover the statues in a layer of mud reinforced with wooden poles poked into the statues have left countless holes in many of the statues. I suppose that as silly as that idea seems to us now, the results are as much a part of history as the original construction of the statues.
The trip to Shanxi already seems long ago after this week’s hectic moments and cherished discoveries in Beijing, which remain to be shared next time.
For now, I have to plan what I’m doing in the city for this free weekend!
Much love,
Kenzie
simple moments, like enjoying my breakfast in a courtyard on campus everyday, watching the old people do morning exercises before I begin class. Or having breakfast on the weekend at a vendor who sells miniature beef buns, made-to-fry round Chinese donut and warm, fresh soy milk, followed by a walk through the park. What could be more enjoyable than watching two guys knead the dough, expertly pinch the buns 
shut after being filled with seasoned meat, then steam in bamboo right on the street? And perhaps my favorite creation to watch the street is diaomian, a type of noodle cut from a giant slab of dough straight into a vat of boiling water, and served in slightly spicy broth. 
and a sprinkle of dried seaweed on top. Strange, but good enough to finish. The scorpion on the other hand was pure heaven. Three tiny scorpions on a stick, fried and topped with salt… a moment of hesitation before the bug entered my mouth, but when I tasted how crispy and crunchy it was, I wanted more! Especially when there is hardly an aftertaste of scorpion guts. My visiting friend from UCSB, however, refused to not only look away as I ate but also refused to share any more food because my lips had touched the scorpions!
