Travel

Sunday, May 4, 2008
Beijing

In China, it’s customary to eat noodles before your birthday because long noodles symbolize longevity in Asian cultures. Knowing that my 48th was coming up on Tuesday, Holly suggested we have lunch at a favorite spot of hers, near the Temple of Heaven, where noodles are a specialty.

And special they were.

While sitting at a square wooden table, we were surrounded by the din of clattering dinnerware. It wasn’t until our meal arrived that I understood why. The server stands next to the table, holding a tray with a large bowl of noodles, along with about six or seven small bowls of beans, greens, and other add-ins. Then, at lightning speed, the server dumps each little bowl’s contents into the noodles, slams the empty bowl under the next little bowl, tosses its contents into the noodles, uses that little bowl to launch the next one off the tray, etc. It’s loud, it’s theatrical, and it’s absolutely divine.

As were the noodles. Warned by Holly that the sauce (served on the side) was pretty salty, I added the thick, dark dressing with little chunks of meat into my big bowl, then followed her lead, slurping the long, slippery noodles out of my chopsticks. Honest to goodness, this was some of the best food I’ve eaten in my life—nothing I’ve had in the States compares.

Next, we shared a bowl of some reddish fruits, slightly larger than crab apples, that tasted somewhat like baked apples with clove and other savory/sweet spices. They were chilled and served with their juices atop a bed of shredded cabbage (which you don’t eat). The flavor was fantastic; if not for the fact we were stuffed to the gills, we would have inhaled the entire bowl.

Yum. Big time.

{ 0 comments }

Sunday, May 4, 2008
Beijing

Granted, there are a lot of things I didn’t expect in Beijing, but being serenaded on a bus by a Russian fellow my father’s age certainly never occurred to me. He was well educated (Holly translated between us, since he also spoke Mandarin), well dressed, and very conversational. When he broke into song, though…Holly did an admirable job of not bursting into laughter, it was so out of the blue.

Have to admit, though—the guy could really sing. Pretty flattering.

(Photo credit: ViewImages)

{ 0 comments }

Sunday, May 4, 2008
Beijing

No. Not me. Well, not exactly.

Given how lopsided the exchange rate is between Chinese yuan and US dollars, I wildly underestimated how much cash I had on me. Thought it was a fair amount, but after you do the math, it was the equivelent of, well…like a buck eighty.

So I head to the ATM (which I checked into at my bank before leaving Minneapolis). Sure ’nuff, it’s on the same system as me. Cool.

While Holly stands at a discreet distance, I punch numbers (you’d be amazed how universal this process is), but keep hitting a final screen of Mandarin without money spitting out. Tried three times. No luck.

So I summon Holly, who respectfully walks up with caution (this is private stuff, after all). She watches me try it again. Still no luck.

As we’re walking off, we finally catch the issue. There’s a big, handwritten sign hanging just above the machine that, apparently says (again, in Mandarin) “Out of money.”

I’m not doing so well with signs on this trip, am I?

{ 0 comments }

Sunday, May 4, 2008
Beijing

The first thing I learned about the Dirt Market is that no one in Beijing calls it that. In fact, if not for the emails we’d swapped in advance of my trip, Holly would have wondered what the heck I was talking about.

Lesson #427: Don’t always trust your guide books.

The Panjiayuan Market, on the outskirts of southeast Beijing, is a massive, open air collection of antiques, curios, and kitch—the vast majority of them knock offs. Sunday afternoon brought good sized crowds, combing the stalls for everything from Mao alarm clocks to jade Buddhas.

Several artisans were hand carving stamps made from semi-precious stone, using Mandarin characters to phonetically spell out people’s names. Of course, I had one made for myself—a red stone piece topped by a lion-like creature (starts with a “p,” the actual name eludes me now) that symbolizes wealth and success. You look through a book of Western names, find yours, then the artisan carves the characters cross referenced in the book. Holly inspected it closely, and verified that, yes, it translates to “Baxter.”

Of course, now I need to find the red paste ink used with them, pretty sure that trying to pack some from here would end in catastrophe.

{ 0 comments }

Sunday, May 4, 2008
Beijing

Holly and I began our journey with a subway ride, which was interesting. Beijing is in the midst of updating its transportation system ahead of the Olympic Games, so some of the stations and trains have been renovated or replaced, while others are set to be soon.

Our trip originated in one of the older stations on the To Do List. We were transported from the modern streets of the steel and glass Financial District to the dark corners of WWII China in the dozen or so steps to took to move from the sidewalk to the ticket booth inside the dimly lit entryway. Even the uniformed woman behind the glass had the stern look of the Cold War days.

Next, it was down the dim stairways and halls to the platform, then onto an older train…and we were off on our adventure. It might not be as flashy as the Atlanta system, but at 20 yuan—29¢ US per ride—it’s tough to beat.

{ 0 comments }

Sunday, May 4, 2008
Beijing

First order of business: Meet Holly, the guide I found through PersonalChinaHelper.com. She’s delightful…and tall, which completely surprised me. Her English is fabulous, but better yet, she’s fun to hang out with. Since shopping is not my favorite thing to do, we’re going to conquer the markets today. Figured getting that done first was the best plan of attack, not to mention it would be a good way to get a handle on local policies, customs, etc.

Off we go….

{ 0 comments }