Year of the Dragon

Beijing is a gargantuan city. At 19 million people, it has well over twice the population of New York City, the largest in the US. Full of super sleek skyscrapers and highways so wide they make me fear for my life several times in a single crossing, it is easy to think that the city has lost most of its old charm, its “Chinese-ness.” Except for a few pockets of hutong neighborhoods, monuments, and old temples, most of old Beijing has disappeared under the unforgiving shovel of communism and later modernization. However, despite its gritty concrete jungle look, Beijing keeps finding ways to fill my days with enough bizarre little surprises to keep my heart content.

Yesterday, as I was walking to check out an apartment where I may end up living, I saw a lady with a cartful of stuff for sale. This is quite common on the sidewalks, with people selling all kinds of prepared foods, vegetables, or things like bootleg DVDs and jewelry. But this lady had a cartful of goldfish for sale. I was at first horrified, thinking she was selling them as some sort of snack (would be a pretty Chinese thing, actually. “Here, pick which goldfish you want us to deep fry alive for you!”) But thankfully, it turns out they were actually just pet goldfish. And tiny little turtles. And a minuscule baby rabbit (not sure the latter two won’t end up eaten anyway, once they fatten up a little). It’s not that crazy a thing, I guess, to have a little informal fish tank shop outside in subfreezing weather, but the image of the lady pedaling that thing all the way back to her place, fish flopping from side to side was enough to make my day. And I loved her amusement at how funny I found the whole thing; she even helped me take pictures!

And that’s the other really nice thing about Beijing. It’s a very international city, so except for the occasional country folk, you don’t get a lot of pointing and staring for being a foreigner, like people say you do in other parts of China. But, maybe because they don’t have large groups of immigrants that don’t speak their language, or maybe because they’re aware of how hard Chinese is, they have retained a level of curiosity for outsiders and patience for lack of language skills that would be unthinkable in the States or other places I have visited.

With no exception so far, locals I have interacted with remain cheerful, patient, and helpful to the village idiot that makes up for illiteracy and lack of communication skills by gesticulating wildly and smiling way too much (that would be me). This is so different from what I remember from my first years in the US, when I was terrified of something as simple as ordering food because, more often than not, having a heavy accent (even one that was saying perfectly constructed English sentences!) would result in huge amounts of attitude and even disparaging comments. Looks like this is a good place to try to pick up a new language, let’s hope it works!

PS. Speaking of language ineptitude, today I was walking around one of the remaining old neighborhoods and saw a man frying and selling what appeared to be delicious little round donuts. Craving some sugar in the bitter cold, I bought myself a few. Turns out they were very gooey fish balls. Once I got over the flavor shock, they were actually not bad, but I don’t think they’re something I’ll ever buy again.

PS 2. And further on little weird Chinese language things that amuse me, someone pointed out that our building has no 14th, 24th, or 34th floors. In Chinese, the number four is considered bad luck because it sounds almost the same as the word for “death” (though it is a different tone). I had seen a similar thing in the States, where my grandma’s old apartment complex didn’t have an apartment #13, just a 12A and 12B. But it was still surprising to see it done in such a modern and fancy building. 

What are some of the little things that make you happy in your city?

I think my first couple of posts about my new Chinese life did not seem the cheeriest, but let me assure you, Bejing and I are quickly falling in love (to be fair, I’m not sure how Beijing feels about me. But it hasn’t tried to kill me in the past two days or so, which I take as a good sign).

The weekend was good for forgiveness and reconciliation. After my last unfortunate attempt, I woke up on Saturday feeling brave, and headed for Tian’anmen Square again. As soon as I walked out of the station, some woman cheerily said hi, wanting to know if I had been to the Great Wall yet. Little did she know how savvy a traveler I am! Ready to deal with any scamming attempts, I shot her back my fail-proof reply: “I no speak Engleesh.” I tried to look convincingly confused, and quickly walked away. After trying that line half a dozen times on different vendors and “friends” of all varieties, I figured out that it does, in fact, work much better than just saying you are not interested. They give up more quickly. 

When I asked some girls to take a picture of me with Mao (my first real tourist photo in China!) they actually asked me if they could take a picture with me. So yes, as I had read in my travel guide, it IS true that Chinese tourists do sometimes want a picture with a rando foreigner. This made me feel inexplicably better about my gullibility earlier in the week. Like I’d been somehow justified.

But my small triumph in visiting the city’s major tourist attraction without getting totally ripped off was not even the best thing that happened Saturday. Later that day, I met my friend Kay for an afternoon of wandering around and learning a whole lot about China. Kay and I met in a chat room where Chinese students interested in studying in the US can talk to American students. He is a cancer researcher at at military hospital, and we have been emailing back and forth for a little while. I am the first foreigner Kay has ever been friends with. 

How bad would it be if I said, on the same that I visited Tian’anmen square and saw (the outside of) the Forbidden City, that one of my favorite parts about China so far has been Walmart? Well, I don’t care. It was. Kay and I spent at least an hour wandering through the aisles of the food section, and he patiently explained everything I had questions about. Which was a lot. 

Did you know that in a Chinese Walmart you can pick your fish while still alive in big tanks? Or that you can buy chicken feet? Or that you can buy dried, spiced duck tongues to eat as a snack like Doritos? Or duck necks? Or that the milk is not really milk but just a “milk flavored” drink? Or that you can buy mini mangoes the size of strawberries? or fermented quail eggs? or beef-stew-flavored potato chips? Or that they crack eggs and put them in wine glasses so you can compare the difference in yolk size and color between two brands? Me neither. 

Fish doesn’t get much fresher.

Nom nom nom. 

Mini mangoes!

I love the Chinese versions of American brands. Especially when I’m with someone that can read the name to me

After our amazing stroll through Walmart, we went to eat at a restaurant. Kay ordered a preposterous amount of food for the two of us, and I have since learned that that’s one of the ways that a host will show his hospitality in China. He had thoughtfully looked up online earlier “food that foreigners like” and got some crowd-pleasers like scallion pancakes, sweet and sour pork, and sechuanese chili tofu. He also got a fresh salad with a nice peanut dressing, which he seemed to think the most exotic of the dishes, since it’s very unusual here to eat raw vegetables. The food was all absolutely delicious, and I learned a lot about table manners, the Chinese names of different foods, and to never offer to pay for a meal when a Chinese host is showing his hospitality. 

One last thing I should mention was this fun little video Kay introduced me to, a 10 minute tutorial to understand China (if only it were so simple!). Notice Youku, the Chinese version of YouTube. Any similarities are entirely coincidental…

Kay, with the feast that was theoretically a meal for two people.