Kitchen Wench

No, I’m not talking about the delicious crunchy topping on those familar breakfast treats, which also happened to be the subject of a semi-famous Seinfeld episode.

I’m talking about what the Urban Dictionary defines as that unsightly roll of flesh which bulges above a pair of too-tight jeans. You know what I’m talking about. It might even be worse than “plumber’s ass.” And, of the many items accquired on my travels through China, it appears to be the one that keeps on giving.

Up until now, it never occurred to me to address the issue of weight loss on here. Yet weight gain is often an inevitable part of eating lots of rich, delicious foods–or at least it is for some of us. Two years ago, I discovered that I can no longer eat whatever I want, whenever I want, in any amount that I want. After being away from a scale for nearly 5 months in China, I started screaming when I got home and found that I had gained 10 pounds and a wardrobe full of ill-fitting clothes. As someone who had never gained more than a couple pounds in any given time period, this was a pretty big deal–I’d gained 10% of my original body weight. It took me six more months and a few new pairs of pants to lose it all, plus a little more.

I am pretty sure it’s impossible not to gain weight while traveling in China. In a city where running a mile on an outdoor track is equivalent to smoking a pack of cigarettes, excercise seems to do more harm than good. Also, those eight or nine 12 course banquets I had to sit through probably didn’t help, not to mention the countless hotel buffets, abundance of cheap food, and the constant eating out.

Anyway, while I actually managed to fit back into most of my pants this time around, my waistline looks an awful lot like a dreadfully fattening blueberry muffin, hot from the oven (except for the part where my skin isn’t covered in purple spots). I tried to see if there was any quick way to fix this, before I have to start a new job with my stomach hanging out of those suits I bought 2 inches ago. Google rewarded my search with an article written by a transvestite who advocated 180 sit-ups (not crunches) for a week.

Well. I can barely do one sit-up, let alone 180, so that’s out. In the meantime, it’s back to denying myself delicious things (like that nutty, flaky aged gouda in the refridgerator–8 grams of fat per oz!) and forcing myself to use this terrifying eliptical running machine that’s been collecting dust in the dining room. I kind of hate running. But I hate the idea of buying a new wardrobe even more. Running is free, dress pants are expensive, and 2 inches from now, my new metabolism should allow me to eat the occasional ounce of aged gouda cheese.

I can’t believe I haven’t posted in this since Shanghai. That’s shameful. Here’s a brief tour of what happened in the last two weeks.

I returned to Beijing for my final week and spent most of it buying a new wardrobe for myself, swing dancing multiple nights a week, and eating all my favorite foods for one last time (sizzling eggplant with lots of garlic and minced pork, crispy Japanese tofu in sweet and sour sauce, Korean bbq, bottled green tea, and “plain” yogurt that tastes just like a sweet Indian lassi).

I spent my last 4 days in Hong Kong, with a day trip to Macau, which has some fascinating history and a whole lot of casinos. In Hong Kong I ate Indian food twice–at the Delhi Club in Chungking Mansions and at Branto (all veg) on Lock St in Tsim Sha Tsui. I cannot get over how much they’ve cleaned up Chungking Mansions (this slummy block of old apartments and the only place to find “cheap” hostels, mostly inhabitated by East Indian and African folk). It’s better lit; the floor isn’t sticky; there’s much less hawking; and there are security guards that help you navigate the weird maze of buildings, shops, and elevators that only go to odd or even floors. I suppose it’s for the best, but part of the charm was the weird, sketchiness of the place. It’s worth a visit in any case, though I really liked the food at Branto, and the atmosphere was nicer. They had delicious fresh mango lassis.

I also had my fill of dim sum and ate 3 servings of mango pudding in 3 days. Hong Kong is definately not designed to be eye-level; all these great restaurants are tucked away on the 2nd floor of rather run-down buildings. Half the time I walk past the signs because I forget to look up.

One thing I love are all the fruit juice stands on the street. For 5 or 6 HKD you can get freshly squeezed juice, smoothies, and tapioca drinks. There are also all sorts of little dessert shops (in TST and also dotted around Mongkok) that specialize in various fruit and geletin concoctions. They’re delicious on a hot, sticky day (which is most days in Hong Kong).

But, the bottom line is, it’s all over now.  I’m back home and recovering from my jetlag. I think my life might suddenly become a lot less interesting. We’ll see.

So, I’ve been pretty bad about posting lately.  Needless to say, I survived spring break unscathed only to be hit with a paper when I got back. 

 This last weekend has been fabulous.  We traveled to Shanghai for the weekend, most of which I spent tromping up and down Nanjing Lu, the Bund, and French Concession, not to mention burning a giant hole in my wallet at the Yu Gardens bazaar (touristy stuff and some sweet clothes) and Xiang Yang market (a treasure trove of knock off handbags, jackets, and shoes).  I also soaked in a little culture at the Shanghai Art Museum, which is currently featuring a selection of works by modern Latin American painters.  

We also hit up some of my favorite spots from my last trip, including Simply Thai in Xin Tian Di, and Number Five bar on the Bund.  We also listened to the jazz band at the Peace Hotel, which is composed of adorable geriatric Chinese musicians.  The playing wasn’t the great, but I felt like I’d just stepped back in time (aided by the purchase of a retro-style dress earlier that day).   The jazz at Number Five was much better and featured a very nice vocalist, though the chill atmosphere almost had me passed out in my oversized leather chair.

However, the greatest amount of my time was definately spend stumbling around the JC Mandarin Hotel buffet, wide-eyed and drooling.  I don’t even like buffets.  I have eaten at an awful lot of buffets on this trip, and it’s safe to say that it was probably the best I’ve had thus far.  The food was actually so delicious that I became paranoid about supply shortages and began hoarding plates of pizza, cheese, and museli.  (Hey, everybody else was doing it too.)  The JC Mandarin was also the first hotel I stayed in that actually had a bathroom scale, allowing me to monitor the progress of my rapidly expanding waistline. 

Sadly, we left Shanghai on Monday, a little bit poorer and a little bit fatter.  I’ll miss the fabulous restaurants, trendy bars, shopping, glitz, glamour, European architecture, beautiful subway system, and cab drivers that wear uniforms and white gloves. 

I already miss the buffet.

To quote my Korean travelmate, “Really, where are we?”

I arrived in Dalian this morning, after having my intinerary reversed by the tour company.  Dalian is very modern, clean, and actually has trees.  A very nice Chinese coastal city.  We did some sight seeing things… then we drove out of the city… then into the new Dalian Development Zone… then out of the development zone… to nowhere, to these little cabin things… and this is where we are staying, an hour outside of the city (in clear traffic). 

There are no cars on the street here.  I am in this internet cafe that I had to walk like 20 minutes to find because we are literally staying in THE MIDDLE OF NOWHERE by a beach.  Except we can’t even find the beach.  And it is not well lit here.

Most of our tour group is Korean.  I think most of the students on our tour are afraid to talk to us, except for these two clearly Asian people who are from France.  At least they blend in physically–they look Vietnamese or otherwise South East Asian.

I feel white.

Tomorrow night I leave for Qingdao via boat.  I hope I’m not staying 25 miles out of the city again.  Things are getting very Chinese, very fast.  This is definately ridiculous.

Only in China could the weather forecast for my vacation destination be “widespread dust” and “smoke”.  Not sunny, not rainy, but dusty and smoky.  My lungs are loving this place. 

Tomorrow is the official start of China’s week-long labor day holiday, where apparently the entire country (or close to it, since there are hardly any train tickets to be had) picks itself up and goes on vacation.  Well, of course it’s not everybody, but since there are 1.3 billion people, it’s still going to be a lot of Chinese vacationers out and about this week.  Unable to make train arrangements and unwilling to spend hundreds of (US) dollars on a plane ticket, Michael and I are heading into the thick of it on a Chinese tour. 

A Chinese tour.  I don’t quite know what we’ve gotten ourselves into; the guides will most likely not speak any English, my translation skills are rather subpar, and the tour brochure has such broken English that I’m not even entirely sure what sights we are supposed to be seeing.  In any event, somehow we will board a train to Qingdao tomorrow night, “live active freely by the sea”, take bus to Yantai, boat to Dalian, “live active freely in the People’s Square” and do some other stuff, like visiting “Tai qing pour”, “Eight Strategic Borders”, and a military port/base which foreigners are not allowed into. 

I looked up the word for “arrested” in the dictionary today. I’m going to start working on that self criticism.  Wo wanquan bu zhi dao waiguoren bu keyi jin qu.  Zhen de.   Wish me luck.

I returned to Beijing last night.

Thank GOD.  I have never been so thankful to return to a place in my life. 

Words cannot really describe the last week spent in Shanxi Province.  Most of it ranged from polluted to uncomfortable to utterly absurd.  Things like… scratching the top of my head and having my fingernails turn black from the coal dust…  Or drinking fen jiu (the local liquor that smells and probably tastes an awful lot like rubbing alcohol) with Communist party officials… being mobbed by small schoolchildren asking for autographs… eating three Chinese banquets in four days… or having a random man off the street walk uninvited into my hotel room because he wanted to see some foreigners.  I felt like an alien/celebrity, and not in a good way.

Walking around Beijing today, Gobi desert grit has never tasted so good between my teeth. 

First off, Beijing is great. 

Second off, I ate some absolutely delicious German food here last night, at this place that translates to Schindler Fillingstation, a few blocks from the Xi Shui silk market.  The potato salad was out of this world: tangy, vingary, sweet, bacon-y.  I had pork filet with mushrooms over spatzle with cheese.  It was salty, creamy, and delicious.  We also had some wonderful German beer (Erdinger) and great Riesling as well–lots of flavor!  I’m not a dark beer fan, but the Erdinger wasn’t bitter at all.  As much as I love Chinese food, this has probably been my best meal here so far.  I think we’ll definately be eating there again.

In other news, tonight I am Shanxi bound, slated for one of the most ridiculous schedules I have ever seen (sightseeing from 6 am to 8 pm?!).  Who knows if I’ll have time to write, let alone sleep.  In any event, I’m sure the forthcoming stories will be interesting.

On Friday I arrived in Beijing and moved into my dorm. I’ve almost completed my first week of classes and have already enjoyed yang rou chuanr, pirated DVDs, and purchased a Chinese cell phone. It’s nice to settle in to a rhythm… sort of. It’s only been one week, and while I’ve started planning the layout of my life here, we’re already going to be picking up and moving next weekend. I’m conflicted about spending 9 days in Shaanxi Province, as I would really like to wring some quality time out of Beijing, without killing myself sightseeing. (I’m also afraid I may have already visited some of the sites in Shaanxi as well.)

There’s something to actually living in a foreign country, rather than just seeing it from the window of a tourbus or through the lens of your camera. It’s empowering to master the fundamentals in another language, to figure out the bus and subway systems, and, ultimately, to feel at home in a place that isn’t really like home at all.

I also went swing dancing in Beijing, which was… Well, I had fun. But I was also very frustrated at times. It was not how I was expecting. But, damnit, I paid for a 4 lesson package and I’m going to slog through it. I don’t want to give up dance here if I don’t have to.

Life is much less eventful without the constant travel, so I don’t have much to report yet. (For instance, today I went to Wu Mei, the Chinese version of Wal-Mart.) However, this program won’t let me sit still for long, so I’m sure I’ll post again soon.