Suckling Pig Barbecue

A few weeks back, Liz, Luke, and I went out for lunch down in Nanping (Southern Zhuhai) with our Chinese friend Josh. We went to a restaurant that specializes in whole roasted suckling pigs. Fifteen-day-old suckling pigs. Two weeks. Half a month. 1/26th of a year old. Less than the time it takes to play a best of seven series in basketball. Innocence has never tasted so delicious.

First, they take said pig (post butchering) and put it on giant fork. Kind of a pitchfork minus the inner tines. Then, they slowly roast the "skewer" by hand over an open charcoal pit.







After cooking, the pig is then sectioned up, put on a platter, and served with sugar and a sweet Chinese barbecue sauce. There wasn't a whole lot of meat on the bones, so we mostly jut ate the skin and a little of the fatty muscle layer on the outside. If this all sounds horrible - killing a baby pig, cooking it splayed over and open flame, and then eating only its skin - then I don't know what to tell you. It was one of the most delicious meals I've had in China. For my birthday last winter (not pictured here, but over on Rachel's blog), I had a whole lamb cooked up at a local Western Chinese restaurant and served to me and 15 friends. I like eating whole animals.

Such as this roasted chicken, which was also at baby pig lunch.



We also ate a range non-whole animal courses, with the lotus root being the highlight.


Plates, from bottom, clockwise: flatbread; wilted greens; lotus root; and a potato, celery, and wood ear mushroom dish.

The restaurant was a friendly, open air sort of establishment...



with a nice view of the city...

A weekend in Hong Kong

Liz and I headed to Hong Kong last weekend to meet up with some friends. We crashed in a hostel (cheap!) in bustling Causeway Bay (not cheap!), and used that as a jumping off point to explore Hong Kong Island and southern Kowloon. We took the ferry from Jiuzhou Port in Zhuhai (165 RMB each way; about an hour and a quarter in travel time) into Central HK, checked into our hostel, and we were off!

First thing: we had some delicious street food. I didn't snap a photo, but I seem to remember that it was some sort soup or curry or something. Tasty, but not altogether memorable for reasons that shall soon become apparent (many other good meals).

After that, the two of us, along with two friends recently of Portland/Shanghai, hopped on the incredibly convenient HK Metro (a.k.a. the MTR) and went north to the Kowloon flower and bird markets. The flower market is located on the sidewalk of a narrow street. Locals and tourists stand shoulder to shoulder with vendors. There were lots of floral and fruit (fructal?) arrangements for Chinese New Year. I don't know much about flowers, and usually things like this would have me bored to tears; however, the slightly exotic flavor (flavour!) of the place combined with the frenetic back and forth of Kowloon completely offset my total lack of interest in flowers. Also, flowers are easy to photograph because they don't move and are very colorful.

Next, we went to the bird market, which is at the end of the flower market street. If you know Liz, you know she was thrilled to go here. A few days before we went to HK, she was coyly saying things like "will we have time to go to Kowloon?" and "don't you think Kowloon would be cool?" I didn't know about the bird market until one of our friends mentioned it; I replied, "hey, Liz, I bet you'd like that!" Her reply: "Dan, why do you think I wanted to go to Kowloon!"

In any case, the bird market sells pet birds of all shapes, sizes, and colors (colours!). There are ornate bamboo cages everywhere. There are also tons of wild native birds hanging out and eating free bird seed. Liz was very excited. I joked that she would have to take a nap afterwards to settle her down.



Then we took the ultra-convenient airport tram ($100 HKD) out to meet Rachel. She was in surprisingly good shape, after sitting in planes/airports for something like 60 hours. We had Burger King (first fast food in five months), headed back to HK island, and met up with some folks for hotpot on the streets (lots of seafood!).

On Sunday, we got up a little late and went into Central/SoHo for Mexican food. Oh my god, I missed Mexican food. It was stupid-expensive but delicious. SoHo is a very interesting neighborhood; it's very westernish and touristy, and has a long system of convenient outdoor escalators known as the Mid-level Escalators.

After brunch, we headed over to check out the zoo, botanical garden, and aviary at Hong Kong park. I don't take pictures at zoos (or aviaries) because they never come out. The bars always throw the focus of the camera off; besides, would you really want to look at a picture taken by a tourist of a South American lemur living in a cage in Hong Kong? No. You can find better pictures of that selfsame animal on the internet. Suffice it to say that the entire complex at Hong Kong park was excellent, free, and worth the trip.

We then sort of wandered around the bustling financial district and successfully avoided getting hit by the double-decker trams. The Financial District has everything you'd expect in any of the world's great cities: expensive cars, skyscrapers festooned with bank logos, and high end stores such as Louis Vuitton, Armani, Bvlgari, etc. There's not really a lot to see, although personally I did get a kick out of standing in the heart of the fourth largest financial center (centre!) in the world. I did NOT get a kick out of a searched-for English language bookstore being closed.

We left HK island via metro and went north to the Temple Street night market. It was a little early, so we strolled around, looked at the street's namesake Buddhist Temple (which was mostly closed), and ate more street food. I'll just say right now that we ate every three hours on Sunday night and that I personally did not take any photos on my camera of anything except the last late-night meal. Perhaps Rachel or Liz took some photos that I will be able to post later. In any case, here is what I recall about those three meals, in order: first meal (street food in Kowloon) was some boiled crab, tofu braised in soy sauce, small clams in soy sauce (my favorite), fried wontons, and Skol, the nationless beer. Second meal (street food, also in Kowloon) had some sort of beef noodles, really interesting egg rolls (outsides had a fried fishnet look to them), and something else that I can't recall. Third and final meal (at a restaurant in Causeway Bay) was sharkball noodle soup and a plate of crispy fried dumplings. In between eating, we checked out the night market, talked with some locals, and went up to Lan Kwai Fong for a moderate amount of expensive revelry. All in all, it was a fun, contained evening.

Monday morning we got up, checked out of our hostel, and had breakfast congee at a local spot. The congee was thicker than I'm used to, but still the same, with century egg, scallions, and shredded pork. Delicious, if unremarkable. We then walked to Victoria Park, which is west of Causeway Bay. More of a community oriented space than Hong Kong Park, Victoria Park has soccer fields, open gardens, and even a pool where people can launch model boats! As in every park in China, there were older people doing freestyle Tai Chi.

We then got on the metro and headed up to the Peak Tram base station. The Peak Tram is a funicular railway that runs up to the Peak, a.k.a. Victoria Peak. The Peak looms over Hong Kong island, and gives some absolutely spectacular views on clear days. Of course, truly clear days are few and far between in southern Asia, so we would have to settle for mostly clear with a thin veneer of haze. The Peak Tram is bloody steep; in one of my photos, I (poorly) tried to show level ground in contrast to the 27 degree gradient of the railway tracks. Good lord was it steep.

Ten minutes later, we were at the top, and were treated to some really stunning daytime views of the Hong Kong skyline. Just beautiful. The biggest downside to the Peak is the hideous Peak Tower. This U-shaped monstrosity - home to the culturally enriching Madame Tussaud's Hong Kong - is supposed to be reminiscent of a wok. To me, it was reminiscent of an air control tower ("let's rack 'em, stack 'em, and pack 'em!"). Awful. Apparently you could pay an extra $15 HKD to go on top of this odious structure for an even better view, but I chose to save my money...which I think worked out just fine!

Our final act of Hong Konging was to go back to the mid-level escalator area and eat lunch at a New York style deli. It was transcendent. Rachel got pastrami, and Liz and I went half and half on a Rueben and an Italian sandwich. There were onion rings as well. This may seem trivial to you, but I cannot get anything approaching this in Zhuhai, so I was quite pleased.



We left Hong Kong via the Kowloon ferry terminal because they had a 5:30pm ferry. The entire travelling process was a snap. Simply put: I love Hong Kong. If anyone knows of a Hong Kong -based financial institution or marketing firm looking for a young English speaker with a tremendous work ethic and above average writing skills, send them my way!

Finally, here is a photo sequence, taken from an elevated walkway at the corner of Queens Road and Pedder Street in Central. I would recommend advancing through the pictures manually as fast as you can, rather than using the too-slow autoplay.

Ginger Coke

Liz has a new favorite breakfast beverage: jiang le, or ginger cola. Basically, you take some Coke, toss in some julienned or shredded ginger, simmer it for a while to cook off some of the water, and serve it hot (or presumably cold). She first had it yesterday at local luncheonette, and again this morning at the Hong Kong restaurant. It is not carbonated (the bubbles disappear in the simmering), but it has a definite gingery smack to it. In fact, the drink always has a big pile of ginger floating it it! I'm not a huge fan of ginger - I tend to like it if it is cooked into a dish - but this is tasty and feels good on a sore throat. It sort of resembles black coffee, so I guess it is an acceptable breakfast drink.

An American friend had a cold a few months back, and Chinese friend came over and made him some jiang le. "Chinese medicine," she said, "good for health." His reply: "but you've only had Coke in Zhuhai for like 10 years!"

Sichuan Restaurant - not hotpot!

A few days ago, we went to a Sichuan restaurant in our neighborhood for lunch. Famous for pandas, mountains, and the notorious 2008 earthquake, Sichuan (a.k.a. Szechuan) is known as one of China's two spicy provinces (the other being Hunan). Perhaps Sichuan's most consumed cuisine is Sichuan hotpot, which I have had many times and which I regard as one of the most enjoyable dining experiences you'll find; slowly chowing on plates of meats and vegetables cooked in a pot of ultra-spicy boiling liquid that is shared by you, eight friends, random Chinese well-wishers, and an always-growing stack of beer bottles is terrific. (A note of warning: when finished, you have a gut full of fire and you stink like a spice rack; hotpot is best consumed when you have adequate time afterward to change clothes and take a nap).

All that is fine and dandy, except that the Sichuan restaurant we visited was not hotpot. It was just delicious Sichuan food. Spicy, simple, savory, and served family style. We're still working on learning menu Chinese, so some of what we ate was ordered via "eeny-meeny-miney-moe."

The first dish - we actually got a double order because the servings were very small - was spicy beef.

Beyond soy sauce, I have no idea on the sauce flavoring...though I can say confidently that the numbing, slightly metallic-tasting Sichuan peppercorns were making themselves known. From the way the dish was served, I would assume that it was cooked in a bamboo rice steamer, but I don't know if there were other preparatory steps. The tender, slightly sour (perhaps some fermented rice and/or soy?), salty, and spicy beef was just splendid on top of a bit of rice.

We managed to order wonton soup.

This was not the wonton soup you'll find at your $7.95 lunch buffet in the States; it was proper, with pork, squid, mushrooms, and amazing boiled wontons (basically dumplings, with extra strands of dough).

The next dish was good, if unremarkable. I ordered it unknowingly - oh well!

Green beans, potatoes, seaweed (wakame maybe?), and chunks of bone-in pork (of course!) all simmered to perfection in a fairly standard broth. At first I thought it was a little boring, but then our friend Luke made the point that most vegetables you get in China are stir-fried in oil and covered in soy sauce; that is to say that simple, lightly-seasoned al dente vegetables (such as those pictured above) are actually a refreshing change of pace. If you subtracted the seaweed and switched the pork out for lamb, it'd be downright Irish.

Now for the dumplings, a.k.a. jiaozi.

Wow. This was a real crowd pleaser. I've never seen dumplings served like this before. What you're looking at are 12 dumplings that have been carefully placed in a very hot, oiled wok, and browned on the bottom. Then (I think) the chef poured some sort of batter into the wok around the dumplings; the screaming hot oil then bubbles up through the batter, quickly crisping it and giving it this sort of sunburst effect. The dumplings and concomitant batter are then dumped upside down onto a plate. Voila! The crisped batter retains the shape of the wok (or other cooking vessel), giving the whole thing a kind of crispy umbrella effect. This is just my guess at the preparation...I could be totally wrong, so please correct me if you know otherwise. The dumplings were tasty, but their real star power came from their presentation and their texture - soft and moist on one side, perfectly crunchy with little bits of batter on the other.

We also ordered ma po tofu, but I neglected to get a picture of it. It was delicious, with both the spicy hot pepper flavoring and the numb of Sichuan peppercorns. You can find this dish in many Chinese restaurants, including very dumbed down (but delicious) versions at western Chinese restaurants.

Also ordered at random was a bowl of dough balls. No picture, and I wouldn't even know where to find them on the internet. Basically, they were gumball-sized spheres of gooey rice dough with a bit of sweetened bean paste in the middle, cooked and served in warm, slightly-sweet sugar water. It sort of looked like half a dozen misshapen golf balls sitting in a bowl of water. Apparently they are usually eaten for breakfast. They were fine.

Finally, we unknowingly got a bowl of steamed eggs. As opposed to the other dishes which found their way onto our table 10 minutes after we ordered, this dish took about 30 minutes.

Steamed eggs, in texture, are sort of reminiscent of an egg custard or a stiff pudding, though steamed eggs are much lighter, usually savory, and served warm. Soy and Pepper, a food blog I read from time to time, has a pretty good rundown on the preparation of one variation of this dish. As with omelets and quiche, I would guess that steamed eggs can be made with all kinds of ingredients; the version we had was just steamed eggs with a drizzle of unidentifiable, salty-sour brown sauce (I suspect the sauce was the same base for the sauce in the spicy beef dish mentioned above). Its almost buoyant consistency and understated flavor served as a sapid counterbalance to the rest of the heavily-seasoned dishes we ordered. In other words, not stupendous, but a good capstone to delicious meal.

Hong Kong Restaurant

After a night of a perfectly controlled and reasonable amount of fun, Liz and I met a friend at the aforementioned Hong Kong style restaurant (HKR). No idea of the name because - surprise! - the signage is all in Chinese. Nonetheless, this place has been somewhat of a revelation for several reasons, which I shall list and, in my roundabout way, discuss.

First, its menu is small, without English and (for the most part) pictures, and all the like items are grouped together. Liz and I (mostly Liz) are trying to learn menu Chinese. We know the big ones now: pork, chicken, beef, lamb, rice, steak (no bones!), fire (meaning roasted, pan-fried, or grilled), sandwich, and a few others. However, since many Chinese menus are massive and are slapped together in a way that doesn't necessarily make sense to a couple of gringos like us, our menu Chinese will only get us as far as knowing what the dish's main protein will be, excepting when there are pictures on the menu. HKR, thankfully, gives you a rational, compact menu written in highly legible typeface. We don't always know precisely what we order, but at least we feel pretty confident that we won't be served a plate of regret, self loathing, and offal in brown sauce.

Second, the place has a definite Americana diner feel to it. If they served omelets or if I overheard a couple of old guys bitching about the Red Sox in between sips of heavily creamed and sugared coffee, I'd think I was back in New England. Okay, slight exaggeration, as there are roasted ducks and chickens (avec les tetes, bien sur!), but I digress. HKR is lined with spacious four-person booths; this is important because you don't get giant tables of Chinese families yelling at each other (which sort of disturbs, nay shatters, ambiance). And there are always a lot of people in HKR. A good diner should be packed with people - talking loudly but not shouting - to give it sort of a buzzing hive aura. HKR is clean (not that I'm a neat freak). They have nice pictures on the walls. Next to the kitchen, there are muted TVs which play sports (they had a Portland Trailblazers-LA Fakers game on today) and news. I like this because my first instinct is not to stare at them with blank stupidity as I try to parse the Mandarin (as is m habit with every other ambient, sound-on Chinese television), but rather to try to ascertain what is going on with careful observation. Seeing and not hearing is better. In general, it's just a good, familiar restaurant to walk into, and that's what you want in a breakfast spot.

Third, they have real coffee! Not instant coffee! I cannot overstate how important this is! Most places don't have coffee, unless you go to a "Western" restaurant (expensive, cheesy, and devoid of people), a coffee shop (expensive), or make it at home! And the coffee is good! Really good! I'm not the coffee snob I was when I lived in Oregon, but I know good coffee when I have it! Look! I'm writing with exc!amation points!

Fourth, the food is really tasty and inexpensive. It's not served family style, which is a plus because I hate having to come to a consensus or to order for other people or have other people order for me when I have a damn headache/haven't had coffee yet. As I mentioned in my previous post, the congee is top notch. The congee comes in half a dozen traditional flavors (i.e. pork, chicken, fish) and with the usual accouterments (chopped century egg, scallions, sliced mushrooms). It also comes with chunks of youtiao, which serve as veritable croutons with a texture reminiscent of fried dough. Note: youtiao in Cantonese means "fried ghost" - horrors! HKR also has delicious baked riced and vegetable bowls, as well as sandwiches. Hurray sandwiches! They're definitely Chinese style - with the requisite slightly sweet and very squishy white bread and gobs of mayo - but how can you complain when someone fries a pork chop, puts it between two slices of bread with some cheese and perfunctory vegetables, and gives it to you? You can't! Did I mention they have coffee!

Here's a couple photos. The congee up close; it's slightly brown because I stirred in a drizzle of soy sauce.


Here's the bird's eye view.

Ham sandwich at left; pork chop sandwich at right; coffee! You can see the youtiao on a plate peeking out from behind the congee as well.

Anyway, this place may not be anything special, especially if you've spent a significant amount of time in China and/or Hong Kong. But diners - or breakfast spots - in a specific sense are not special: they all have great French toast, western omlets, sandwiches, red leather booths, and long lines on Sunday mornings. Sometimes they have pissed off Portugeuese guys from East Providence, or Jerry Seinfeld, or the Fonz, or an awkward conversation between two people that just met the previous night. It's not the exclusivity or uniqueness of a breakfast spot that gives it cachet; it's good food, reasonable prices, and comfortable surroundings enveloped in sublime familiarity.

The Wet Market

Not too much to say on this post...here are some photos (complete with captions) that I took of the Wet Market a little while back. Called thusly because the entire first floor is a veritable seafood emporium, the Wet Market also has lots of produce, eggs, dried goods, and Chinese women wielding meat cleavers in poorly lit areas. As always, click through to see the full slideshow.

I've got some more photos to put up in the next few days, so sit tight.

It's great to see you're still in the bars

Goddamnit I know. I'm the bloody JD Salinger of blogging. It's been forever. And there are no pictures. "Why no pictures? Where are the posts? What have you been doing over there that is keeping you from posting?" Well, I've been having a helluva a lot of fun. Let's examine the fun in greater detail shall we?

What does one do for fun in Zhuhai specifically (and, one assumes, in China in general)? The short, simple, and safe answer is that DVDs are cheap and plentiful. With Netflix in the USA, I probably watched more in terms esoterica, but here volume of consumption is the name of the game. One DVD can contain several movies or a season of a TV show. For less than $4 US, you can own every violent de Niro movie; the first 6 seasons of 24; a collection of eight "post-apocalypse" films; every Bond film EVER; every Wesley Snipes movie that you've never heard of; or a lot of dirty movies (or so I'm told). You can find pretty much anything if you know where to look - including some fairly esoteric, artsy films. I always try to talk myself out of renting/buying the interesting German film, simply because I know that I'm usually looking for something a little more escapist (or short, like a TV show). Anyway, volume, as I said, is key. I have a friend who will tear through a whole season of a TV series in a day; it took him about a week to watch all five seasons of The Wire. I don't watch TV like that, but I understand the sentiment.

What else does one do for fun in China? Bars, clubs, and BBQ (pronounced "bee-bee-cue" or just plain ol' "barbecue," if you're talking to an English speaker). The word bar is misleading, relative to what you would think of as a bar in a western country. You won't really find the dark, quiet dive bar that you like going to on a Tuesday night to watch a Celtics game. Aside from some hotel joints and Irish pubs (both of which are fairly expensive), bars here are essentially limited Karaoke places, Western bars (usually expensive and filled with rambunctious Aussies) and the outdoor establishments found on Walking Street in Gongbei (adjacent to the Macau border).

Karaoke is everything you've seen on TV: small, dimly lit room; terrible songs played at maximum volume; couches; bar girls; and lots of people saying "cheers" every five minutes. Western songs are often renditions reworked by a Chinese artist, so the pacing of the song is completely off. Every karaoke place has "Hotel California." If you come to China and go to a karaoke place with any Chinese people, they will ask you - nay, make you sing this song. In the words of the Dude, I hate the &%#@ing Eagles man, so this is an especially painful but expected part of ingratiating yourself with the locals. I don't do karaoke much, so let's move on, shall we?

Walking Street (a.k.a. Lianhua Lu, a.k.a. Lotus Lane, a.k.a. Ji Lu) in Gongbei is a special type of attraction. To start, I should note that almost no locals go there because it is a place featuring, shall we say, lots of women of ill repute. However, to dub it a trashy Red Light District isn't really a fair appraisal of the place. Walking Street proper is several hundred yards of open air bars, surrounded on both sides by clothing stores, restaurants, electronics stores, and the like. Lots of Taiwanese, Macanese, Japanese, Southeast Asians, and a smattering of gringos go to this area because there's lots of shopping, relatively cheap drinks, and ladies of the night. My favorite thing about Walking Street is the people watching, specifically watching the prostitutes scatter into the stores when a police van comes by to do a sweep. You see a van coming, and all of a sudden the go-go boots, small skirts, and clown makeup disappear. Also, when you're sitting at a bar on Walking Street, beggars, shoe shiners, and small song-singing children will come up and try to separate you from some of your money. Shoe shine (a really good one) is about 4RMB; having a little child sing you a song is usually 1 or 2 RMB; and beggars are annoying and persistent.

The most cruelly hilarious type of beggars are women with a child in their arms to elicit sympathy; now before you think I'm some sort of heartless monster, I should tell you that that child is not their child. It is a rented child. I don't know how they arrange it, but it is possible for women to rent a child for a few hours to boost their begging cachet. I know, I know, it's still very sad. Downright heart breaking. But it's China - you just have to laugh at the seemingly bizarre things that you are powerless to change. Also, our friends Luke (an American) and Ricky (from Cameroon) love telling the women that they want to eat their baby in Chinese. Why say something so horrible and wrong? Because it will make the women leave you the hell alone. It's a big game: you sit, have a few drinks, b.s. with the bartenders (these 20-something girls have taught me more Chinese than anyone), play liar's dice, laugh at the prostitutes, talk with the random foreigners, get your shoes shined, and tell the beggars to leave you the hell alone. I know it sounds very debauched and wrong, but that's just the game and that's just how it is. In my first days in China, an Aussie friend here gave me some solid advice that (to borrow a line from The Great Gatsby) I've been turning over in my mind ever since: "China's got 5000 years of culture. America's got 200 and Australia even less. Don't think you're going to go about changing the Chinese, because really it's you that had better go about changing a bit." Sage advice for living here, having fun, staying safe, and staying true to yourself, and, ultimately, for reading this blog as well.

Where was I before I started getting all philosophical...right, Walking Street. You meet all kinds of interesting folks down on Walking Street, and most of them are just doing what you're doing. I always go to Walking Street with a group of people and usually with Liz, so the prostitutes leave me/us alone. However, if you're alone or in a group of only men, the prostitutes, called ji (pronounced "gee," Chinese for chicken), will approach you, hand you a small piece of paper with their phone number on it, and get uncomfortably close to you. One time we were there in the afternoon talking to a Chinese-American guy who was sitting alone, waiting for his wife to come out of a foot massage parlor. He made a bet with his wife that in the time it took for her to get a foot massage that he could collect over 20 slips of paper, meaning that he would be approached by more than 20 ji. He easily had 30 when his wife returned, so I guess he "won" the bet. His prize was that his wife underestimated how enterprising ji can be.

Walking Street is also good because it is not loud, pretty safe, and an inexpensive staging area for doing something else in Gongbei. One thing you can do in Gongbei is underground go-karting. I've only done it once and it was fun...I mean, who wouldn't want to go to a go-karting place that also has a bar, right? Actually, me. I wouldn't want to do that. However, I did it once a bunch of friends, but thankfully there was no one else in the place because there was a raging typhoon outside. I don't want to say any more about the state of the go-karting place because I want my parents to be able to sleep soundly at night...suffice it to say that the cars are fast (and very stable) and so is the track.

Another fun but expensive thing to do is to go to Bar Street. Bar Street, which is very close to Walking Street, is a beautiful, tree-lined avenue with hotels, restaurants, and bars/nightclubs throughout. The two clubs I frequent - called Bar 88 and MTC - are very different from each other but they both serve alcohol in the same way: by the bottle. At bars/nightclubs, you (and presumably 3 or 4 friends, unless you are some sort of blistering, wealthy drunk) split a bottle of liquor (all the popular brands of vodka, gin, whiskey, and scotch), which the servers will mix with a mixer of your choice in a big jug (carafe? pitcher?) filled with some ice. My favorite is Jack Daniels and green tea (and somewhere my mother is shaking her head and saying "no no no, that is sooooo wrong"), which, if mixed correctly, is not too strong and doesn't make you feel like some sort of boozed up mess. Once you have said alcoholic concoction (or a glass of wine or a beer), you and everyone in your party will start playing liar's dice or, my favorite, rock-paper-scissors. Yes rock-paper-scissors. It sounds so stupid, but I swear that getting a group of 10 people to play rock-paper-scissors is one of the more enriching and entertaining ways to kill a few hours. You get to know everyone without talking a lot (important if your Chinese is as bad as mine), people from other tables come over and start playing, and you don't have to try and yell over the VERY LOUD music (more on that in a minute). It's a helluva lot of fun if you have any competitiveness to you at all and I think I'm going to bring it back to the US.

So about the two clubs and their really loud music: the music ranges from American and Chinese hiphop, pop, and techno to revved up versions of songs that you never thought could or should be revved up. Most notable is "Happy Birthday to You." Think of the most annoying, bubblegummy techno crap that you can and then put someone with a vaguely German accent singing "Happy Birthday to You" over it. Now imagine, if you will, that you're in Bar 88 - a big nightclub that looks somewhat nautical, but also like it was designed by someone that's seen Fritz Lang's Metropolis a few too many times - and "Happy Birthday to You" comes on. For some reason, the bartenders start handing out sparklers to people, and not like the cute little sparklers you got on the 4th of July when you were 11 years old. Big sparklers. The size of Bill Clinton's cigar. Massive. Now imagine that you're, say, six feet four inches tall and surrounded by a throng of listing, possibly very intoxicated Chinese people who are all about a foot shorter than you. When said Chinese people hear "Happy Birthday to You" and get sparklers, they go bonkers and you cover your eyes because those damn sparklers are right at eye level. I mean, the whole thing is really hilarious and, white-hot magnesium aside, a lot of safe fun. The bartenders juggle flaming bottles. People come up and "cheers" you constantly. There's a million tv screens, all playing concert footage of some random American hiphop, R&B, or pop concert (i.e. Ja-Rule, Usher, Beyonce) without the sound on. And no one - and I mean NO ONE - can dance. I don't know if it's endemic to 20-something Chinese people or what, but NO ONE can dance. I mean, I can't dance, but they really really really can't dance. I've only been to a handful of clubs in the USA, but I seem to remember being very intimidated by everyone else's ability to dance. Here, I'm bloody Fred Astaire and they're Elaine from Seinfeld. Amazing.

Anyway, Bar 88 is loud, crazy, and fun. MTC is smaller and somewhat more low key. Still loud, but you can still talk to your friends, play the aforementioned games, and gawk at the impish stage dancers and their sequined dresses. MTC has a much more modern feel and generally a place that I prefer, inasmuch as I go to Bar Street. As a rule I only go to Bar Street if someone else is paying or if someone else drags me there. For me, the clubs are too much spectacle and not enough camaraderie, but that's just, like, my opinion, man.

Almost every night in Gongbei (or anywhere else) ends as every night should: with pieces of meat on a stick, grilled to perfection. I cannot overstate my love for the BBQs. They're everywhere in Zhuhai and they're open very very late. You can get pork, chicken, beef, grilled vegetables, fish, fish/pork/chicken balls, Chinese hotdogs (similar to American ones, except slightly sweet and smaller), fried tofu, and more. My favorites are the grilled eggplant (cooked in tinfoil with about 25 cloves' worth of diced garlic), giant oysters (also cooked with a mountain of garlic), any green vegetable, and the guilty indulgence of a hotdog. Liz really likes these things that are like slender green onions, skewered through the ends and coated in some sort of magical brown sauce (not soy - I'm not a moron). BBQs are not like hotdog stands or lunch carts in the States; rather, you go to a BBQ, pick out what you want from a table of meat and produce, sit down at a table, and then a waitress will bring you your cooked food and whatever you want to drink. They're always on sidewalks, always have people at them, and are always a good idea. I've only been here a couple months and am still getting through the "I miss this from America, I miss that from America" stage, so I'm not to the point where I think "man, I'll really miss this thing or that thing about China when I return to America." That being said, I can say unequivocally that I will miss BBQ when I go back to the States. Oh my god, I will miss it. One of my least favorite things about having to teach (or do anything) at 8am is that I probably won't have the opportunity to have BBQ at 2am the night before, regardless of whether or not I have been drinking. In America when you've been out all night, you either make some cheese fries or a grilled cheese at your house, maybe order a pizza, or get a sober buddy to drive you to IHOP or some trash like Taco Bell. Here, it's BBQ. Oh my god, I love BBQ. I have to teach all day tomorrow and Sunday, and I am dying on the inside just thinking about how I probably won't have BBQ for a few days. Shed a tear for me won't you?

In closing, I would like to say that I'm not hitting the bottle really hard or anything. Most nights here are just nice and quiet - hang out at home, eat some dinner, watch a movie, hang out with friends, go out to a restaurant, doddle around on the internet, etc. If one chooses to go out, the late nights are just more of a lifestyle necessity: we teach nights quite frequently, so if we want to go down to Gongbei, etc., we usually don't get started until after 10pm. Before we left, I joked with Liz that we were going to be like NBA players, who never hit the nightclubs or restaurants post-game until 11pm simply because their job keeps them late. Same thing with all the Broadway types I used to work with back home. We aren't crazy and, much like the States, still keep it pretty low key; however, sometimes you just have to play rock-paper-scissors, sing some songs, crack some jokes, and see the sunrise.

Wanshan Island photos

Here are the photos from Wanshan Island. Liz took some and I took some - I didn't bother to give a photo credit because I don't remember who had the camera in their hand. Also, I should point out that these were taken with Liz's little Fujifilm point and shoot, as I wasn't sure how safe my camera would be in our hotel. As it turns out, it would have been fine and I was kicking myself for not bringing it along.

Liz has photos up on her blog as well, along with a more thorough account of the trip.

The Island of my mind was not this dirty

We went to Qi'ao Island last week. It was actually pretty nice considering we were able to get there by bus. A side note on the buses here: they are very frequent, cheap, and efficient, and you thank your lucky stars if you are able to get an air conditioned one; they usually aren't too crowded except during rush hour; and absolutely nothing is in English (shocking I know). Anyway, we took a bus (including a detour where we went about 20 minutes beyond our stop and ended up in a Chinese office/industrial park) and were able to escape the throngs of people for a few hours.

Qi'ao Island is just off the coast of Tangjiawan on the northeastern tip of Zhuhai, and is accessible by a nice bridge via bus #85. Qi'ao isn't super exotic or anything, though I guess "exotic" is relative to whatever you know and expect. On a sliding scale, Qi'ao Island is more exotic than Rhode Island, Fire Island, and Staten Island. Actually it is more built up than I would have expected. There are several university affiliate branches out there, as well as some smallish factories, an international school, some restaurants (more on that later), and a few oldish fishing villages. I read that there are also old ruins and temples, but I didn't find any. It was about 9,000 degrees Fahrenheit (5,000 Celsius) and we underestimated how much water a couple of gringos would need to stay strong, so our hike was perhaps not as awesomely awesome to the awesomest power as it could have been. That is to say that we cut it a little shorter than we would have liked. Oh well.

In any case, I'll let the pictures do the talking. Also, I'm still waiting on more suggestions for Snake Whiskey...

***

Here's the entrance to the mountainous "area" in which we went hiking...let's just call the "area" a park, because the actual name of the place is both long winded and completely nonsensical, as you can see by the writing above the archway:


I have no idea what "ollywood [sic] International Film and Television Culture City" is, as the park does not in any way involve "ollywood", "International", "Film", "Television", "Culture", or "City" (it may involve "and", and nature's inherent complexity probably requires a conjunction or two to keep on keepin' on). Side note: it's like the joke my highschool European history teacher used to tell about the Holy Roman Empire - "It was neither 'Holy' nor 'Roman' nor an 'Empire'." When Mr. Jackson said that, we just laughed and laughed and laughed.

Perhaps there was once a movie filmed there...as far as I could tell, there were just a few beat up little concrete huts, a giant radar tower on the mountaintop, some fishermen's shacks, a couple hard-to-access beaches, dead frogs, and menacing giant spiders on their equally menacing webs. Not sure what the scenery would give you cinematically, but clearly someone from the crew stole the "H" on the entrance sign when they found out that their contract didn't carry into post production.

Here's one of those dilapidated concrete huts I was talking about.


Here's a view of the coastline, taken as we were walking down a little dirt path.


After our hike, we found a beach a few miles away that had a really wonderful, quiet restaurant. We had some sort of pork dish (or maybe it was duck)...


...and the best tofu dish I've eaten in my entire life, cooked with noodle-thin mushrooms...


Also, out front was a guy raising and lowering a giant fishing net into the water using pedal power. You can see the net being raised on the giant harness, as well as the fisherman in the small covered area on the right.


Also, I'd like to note that we survived our first typhoon, which made landfall here on Tuesday afternoon and night. After staying up all night at a friend's apartment (typhoon party), we went out and took come shots of the destruction. I'll get those photos up this weekend.

Snake Whiskey

Yesterday, I saw my first bottle (jug) of whiskey (?) with a cobra inside it; I'm thinking about buying it and doing a more grotesque version of my buddy's chronicle of drinking an Agent Zero. I just asked Liz what she thought might be a good mixer for Snake Whiskey. Her answer: "regret." She's probably right. Personally, I think Coke would work, but read somewhere that you are supposed to do shots (which I hate) and then bite a slice of cantaloupe (like a lime after tequila). Any ideas? Not trying to get bombed...just hoping for some interesting takes on this exotic, possibly medicinal liquor.

Snake Whiskey and apple juice probably wouldn't taste very good, but at least you could call it an "Original Sin." A good drink name would be "the Indiana Jones" (as in "why'd it have to be snakes?"), but I haven't gotten a whole lot further than that.

I'm now accepting submissions - all drink ideas that DO NOT include consuming the actual snake will be considered. All drink ideas that DO include consuming the actual snake will be hilarious.

Friends, food, and New Year's

Here's a laundry list of things that have been keeping me (us) happy and entertained for the last few weeks.

Firstly, we purchased the seasons 1-18 of The Simpsons on DVD for about $4 US. I have been watching The Simpsons since it first aired. My wonderful and incredibly rational parents never seemed to have a problem with the occasionally foul mouthed program, so I just sort of ran with it for - gulp - almost two decades. I watched it when it was the smartest comedy on TV in the mid-90s (and I didn't get half the jokes); when the celebrities ruefully dominated and centered the show to the point of stagnation; when the show hit its absolute nadir in 2002 with the "screaming caterpillar" episode; and when it came back a year or two ago, a Lazarus of sorts, with rediscovered wit and a heightened randomness I took to be a tacit hat-tip to erratic plot arks of Family Guy. I've spent more time watching and quoting the show than one man should, but never in all my years have I owned even a single episode. Always subject to the whims of syndication, I could never simply throw on a DVD or a tape and watch whatever I wanted. That all changed last week, and, friends, I simply couldn't be happier.

We went to Dim Sum a few weeks back with some of Liz's students - pretty good time all around. Dim Sum is one of my favorites, and has been ever since I first had it with my parents. Essentially course after course of appetizers, Dim Sum is Cantonese brunch. Dumplings, noodles, congee (a.k.a. jook, a.k.a. rice porridge, a.k.a. delicious), egg rolls, steamed vegetables, Chinese pastries, and chicken feet magically appear on your table (after one of our nice putonghua-speaking accomplices do the ordering). I apologize for the photos: the light was terrible.



That same day, we went to a Hunanese restaurant in Gongbei with a couple friends, one of whom happens to be from Hunan and did a superb job ordering all the food. Hunan is widely known as both the birthplace of Mao Zedong (every Hunan restaurant is adorned with his picture, or, in some cases, a life-sized bronze statue) and as one of China's two spicy provinces (along with Sichuan). Our Hunanese friend ordered us a smattering of dishes ranging from savory-but-unspicy vegetables (for our fourth friend, a Canadian with a somewhat low tolerance of spice) to a sublimely, delicately spicy pot of beef, peppers, and julienned potatoes/root vegetables. There was also a fabulous dish of very spicy, thinly sliced potatoes that would have been the champion of the night, were it not for the beef dish. Our friend also attempted to order us donkey, as Liz and I have yet to try it; alas, we arrived at the restaurant towards the end of the night and they happened to be out of ass. Also unfortunate is that I did not bring a camera. I do not like to carry expensive camera equipment at night in Gongbei, an area infested with prostitutes, grifters, pickpockets, and other malcontents. Next time we go - which will be sooner rather than later - I will come back bearing photographic evidence. (Note: since then, I have discovered three Hunan restaurants near to my apartment; I shall go soon bearing a camera).

What else, what else, what else. Took these cool photos from the roof.



We went to Macau the week before Christmas. Let me just start of by saying that I would move to Macau in a heartbeat. I really like Zhuhai a lot, but there's just something about Macau that draws me in. Narrow streets. Everything in Portuguese. Vague, Las Vegasesque feel to the place. The utter mishmash of languages. The colonial history. I just love it. Senado Square is beautiful, if a little touristy; it reminds me of Puerto Rico. Fisherman's Wharf is totally touristy crap like you'd find in Vegas: they have a fake Roman Coliseum, a fake Middle Eastern locale, a fake Chinese temple, a fake volcano, fake colonial houses in the Portuguese architectural style, a fake African restaurant...it just goes on and on. I'm shocked they didn't have fake Pyramids or a fake Eiffel Tower. Nonetheless, it was very pleasant and not crowded, and they had a bakery where we could get donuts - yum!



Christmas Eve came and we cooked a big feast with our friend Luke from upstate: I did my mom's southern style sweet potatoes with brown sugar and pecan topping (walnuts substituted for pecans); southern style green beans; and a pan gravy. Liz did an incredible no-bake cheese cake. Our friend did a butterflied roast pork loin with apple stuffing, garlic mashed potatoes, and peas. Overall everything was delicious...there was a lot of the last minute preparation (roasting the loin and the garlic for the mashers, slapping together the gravy) made more difficult because we had to shuttle things here and there between three different cooking locations. No complaints, though: we had a nice, traditional, leisurely dinner that didn't involve eating with sticks and/or at a restaurant.

From Christmas in China 2008

We got a (fake) Christmas tree here too, with lots of ornaments, lights, and a star. It's about 5 feet tall, slightly haggard, but does the job.

From Christmas in China 2008

Feliz Navidad! Er... Sheng Dan Kuai Le!

Post-dinner, Christmas Eve was spent at our local western watering hole. It was a mess.

On Christmas day, Liz gave me an alarm clock (awesome), a sweater (awesome), and fuzzy slippers (awesome). I especially appreciated the gifts that would keep me warm. It doesn't really get below 50 degrees here, but it feels much colder for three reasons: one, my body has recalibrated somewhat to this climate, meaning that 50 degrees feels much cooler; two, none of the apartments have insulation and they are all made of pure concrete and steel, so our apartment is actually colder than the outdoors; three, we have no heat source of any kind, and I am not about to drop a bunch of money on a stupid heat fan. I don't want to give the wrong impression to my friends that happen to be living in such snow entrenched-climes as Chicago, New England, or the greater Northwest (yikes!), as the weather here is lovely and I haven't had to use a snow shovel or de-icer once, and would not under any circumstances consider donning a pair of gloves. However, much like how New England can feel absolutely miserable when it's only 75 degrees, Zhuhai feels positively icy at 10pm on a given winter night.

New Year's was a lovely if not debauched evening. We started off at the beautiful apartment of our Chinese friend, whom I shall call DD. A little background on our past relationship with DD is in order, I think. Liz and I first met her through our American friend Luke. Whenever she invites us over to her house or out for dinner, she always shows us or introduces us to incredible things that very likely we would have no way of finding or experiencing otherwise. Such past examples include: rollerbladers in nightclubs (the night we learned competitive rock-paper-scissors); doing shots of Chinese whiskey distilled with tiger bone (yes, tiger bone); homemade barbecue and Sichuan hotpot; and, on Christmas, a really elegant chain restaurant called "6000."

On New Year's, DD invited us over to make jiaozi (a.k.a. gyoza, a.k.a dumplings) with her family. Basically, one person (DD's sister, in this case) rolls out hundreds of pieces of dough into little coaster-sized jiaozi wrappers. Then, another person (me, Luke, Liz, DD, and DD's mother, in this case) puts about a tablespoon of jiaozi filling (usually some combination of ground pork, green vegetables, egg, mushrooms, etc.) in the middle, and then seals the whole thing up by folding, pressing, and crimping the edges together. Ultimately, the "perfect" jiaozi will take on a slight crescent shape, with expertly crimped undulations of dough running along the edge of the dumpling's concave side. For me, Liz, and Luke, the "perfect" jiaozi remained in the theoretical realm, as our attempts were usually uneven, partially full, and sort of ugly. Well, not exactly true: not to toot my own horn, but I got pretty decent at making them by the end of the night; in fact, I found the whole process very relaxing and therapeutic! In any case, the three Americans were no match for DD and her family - especially DD's mother. This woman was an absolute machine. I had to learn the folding techique from watching DD's sister, as her mother - who has made millions of jiaozi, I'm sure - was so fast and fluid with her movements, that I could not perceive the different steps. The effortless and knowing way DD's mother would seal those suckers up reminded me of watching my own mother make biscuits - just completely unconscious, like she could do it if struck blind.

After we had put together what seemed like a million dumplings, DD's mother and father commenced to cooking them - either by boiling or steaming them (not sure). The fully cooked ones rolled by me and my American counterparts we easily identifiable (lumpy) but still delicious. Thankfully we were permitted to eat ones rolled by defter hands.

Following dinner, DD, Liz, Luke, and I sat around drinking some good red wine and talking. DD, whose English is passable (and better than our Chinese), inevitably went over to a very dangerous closet in her apartment: the place where she keeps the booze. DD is a popular lady, and receives a lot of thank you gifts from friends and clients; in China, you express your thanks with expensive cigarettes or, for non smokers such as DD, alcohol. I already mentioned the tiger bone whiskey. She also has what must be a two-gallon bottle of Hennessy (Chinese people like cognac). But on this night, New Year's, she broke out one of the most astounding alcoholic beverages - perhaps tonic is the right word - that I've ever seen: deer penis whiskey. Strong stuff no doubt, and very expensive. DD convinced the four of us (not a difficult feat) to knock back a modest shot of the stuff, which didn't taste too bad. Then Luke and I knocked back two more, then the four of us finished the smallish bottle...and let me tell you...WHOA! Like nothing I ever felt. Not drunk in the least, but just...amped. Luke and I were talking a mile a minute, we both turned bright pink, and we both felt like we could throw a car. Seriously. This was the kind of thing you read about in regards to PCP, cocaine, and that lot (minus the turning pink, I assume), though I think it was probably more testosterone than anything else. Just awesome, wild stuff. If you're ever in China and someone offers you a bottle of deer penis whiskey, take it for the love of god!

With a gut full of jiaozi and the physical strength to punch through a wall, us Americans headed back to Luke's pad for a little while before going to a New Year's party at a night club. Some stuff happened. There was music, and a dance floor, and someone (not me) got sick all over someone else (also not me). We went home fairly early in the night. What else can you say? I stopped being excited about New Year's a while ago. It's a holiday for people that don't drink to get drunk, and for people that do drink to get very drunk. You have fun, stay safe, and move on. Happy New Year! Xin Nian Kuai Le!

On New Year's Day, we went out for the first time to what is now my favorite breakfast spot: a new Hong Kong restaurant just north of the Jusco. Unfortunately, the restaurant was packed, so we were "forced" to go get our hair washed at the salon next door. "Hair washed?" you say. "What the hell?" Before you judge, you should know that getting your hair washed involves laying down, getting a full head, neck, and hand massage, and, if you want, an ear cleaning and a brush and blow dry (Liz got princess curls). It's like heaven. In the States I always hated getting my hair washed at a salon because it was usually done by some bitchy woman from Revere that talked to her friend about last night's episode of "Dancing with the Stars" while she pulled out wads of my hair. Here, it's awesome and cheap. Just heaven.

After the wash, we were able to land a table at the Hong Kong restaurant. We got three bowls of congee and three orders of rice, green vegetables, and beef cooked in individual clay pots. Really amazing food when you're trying to ward off deer penis whiskey's residual demons. The entire menu at this restaurant is in Chinese, so in subsequent visits we just have to hope our knowledge of Chinese characters will get us through. We went this morning and ended up with congee (again) and a pork chop sandwich, which is roughly what we thought we were getting!