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Published: February 6th 2008
This was written when Alex was sick and we were stuck in the hotel. Pictures to follow.
Nothing tastes better than animals!
You know what I like after a long day of sightseeing? Really love, more than (dare I say it?) Cheetos? I really love feeling hungry and walking past a food stall that sells only pig ears and feet! Really, nothing smells better than pig parts soaking in some sort of vinegar. Ohhh, that makes me think of my other favorite thing about China! That would be would be seeing the animals caged underneath the food stalls in the alley near our hotel. Honestly, it's enough to put me off food at all and I usually have a voracious appetite!
I really though I had seen it all in Cambodia. When our bus to Siem Reap stopped for much needed 15 minute break at a run down makeshift truck stop, I was surrounded by people hawking everything from fresh mangoes to deep fried tarantulas! "Oh, and would you like an order of grubs to go with that? No, how about some deep fried, crispy grasshoppers that smell like rotten squid? What?! You don't like food that smells rotten? Then how about some duck embryo? Or chicken embryo, still in the shell? It's delicious! I promise it's still alive, mmmm!"
Actually, I draw the line at foods that are embryonic. Though I've always said I'll try anything once. Anyway, when a lovely old man in Laos offered us some deep fried insect, I tried the tiniest bite. Alex, following his usual "It ain't so bad if you just jump on in" mentality, popped an entire thumb-sized whatever-it-was in his mouth. He chewed it thoughtfully for a few seconds, and then gulped it down. He swore it wasn't bad. I disagreed, but we generously thanked our host. And then, like a bad movie, the old man mistook our gratitude and brought more deep fried insects, grinning happily. I'm sure he was thinking "Finally! White people that can really get down with some home cooking!"
We spent a day here in Guilin, hanging out with a Chinese guy who was also traveling around. He easily busted all the stereotypes we've read about Chinese people. Now, the guidebooks all say the same boring clichés about the Chinese people: quiet, not very expressive, they drink very little, they are hesitant to speak ill of the current government, vocally patriotic ....you get the picture. Eric is none of these.
Eric's idea of humor: Do you want to hear the best joke in China?
Us : Of course!
Eric: The Beijing Olympics! HA! Just wait till July! It's going to be &*%# hellL-AIR-ious!
How does this relate to food? We went out to a very very very late dinner with Eric and he ordered something that looked like sweet and sour pork. He offered us a bite, and we each took a considerable chunk. I chewed up it, and realized it was inedible. Or most of was, at least. Chewy and sweet but rubbery and bony too. I looked up and realized Eric was spitting the majority of every bite into his soup bowl. I did the same, and then asked what it was.
Eric paused for a moment, and said " I don't remember the word, but it's pig, it's like this" and did this little dance with his hands and feet both bent toward the floor. He waved all four limbs up to the ceiling and then down again.
"Knuckles? Joints?" I asked.
"Yes! Pig knuckles!"
This is how I came to eat pig knuckles. I'm still kind of unclear on which particular knuckle I ate but I don't think I really want to know. Those of you from the Deep South who consider raccoon as good as a roast would get along very well here.
Thankfully one of my going-away presents was a menu reader that includes Chinese script, English definitions and cross-references any term we might need in English, Pinyin, and Chinese. It also describes typical dishes for each region and gives the Chinese script for those as well. It even has few pages devoted to signs like " toilet" "men/women" "no entry" etc. Thank you, Therese! While the guidebook we brought gives us such helpful phrases as " Pardon me, do you mind if I breastfeed here?" and "Help! There's been an accident near the old market!", the menu reader cuts out all the bull and gives you the words for plain rice and my favorite phrase " I don't eat dog".
The menu reader led me to what might be my new favorite food: Eggplant, Sichuan style. Most of the Chinese menus that have been translated into English are so bare it's impossible to tell what the dish is. What we might called sweet and sour pork with rice is translated into "pork rice" Or even "pig rice". Would you order that? How does one decide between "beef-rice" combination 1, 2 or 3? Our favorite was a menu that proclaimed " Super Superme Pizza!"
We've been using that to describe our moods. As in, "How you feeling, Alex?" "Super Super-ME! How about you?"
And yes, I realize that my attitude toward Chinese food is both hypocritical and dismissive, considering I'm not even a vegetarian (I tried!) and I should really know better to simply preach cultural superiority. I know this, I really do, and I promise that I do not pass judgment against people that eat every single part of a pig, whereas I freely let 60% of the meat go to waste. I'm trying though, I'm really trying! I have never eaten this kind of food before, and so adjusting my palate has been very trying. I'm still going to refuse offers of embryonic chicken, however.
Gulliver's Travels: Julie among the Lilliputian
I need to mention anther thing, before I forget. Not to perpetuate even more stereotypes, but Chinese people are tiny! I'm at least as tall as most of the men, and I can see over the heads of most the women too. I went shopping for a coat at a market and whenever I would attempt to try on one, the salesclerk would yank it out of my hands and replace it with a coat that was clearly labeled "XXL" or even "XXXL". No kidding.
I feel like a giant. A huge lumbering giantess of a woman. Most places don't carry shoes in my size! I tried to buy underwear but the ones in my size were twice as expensive, probably because it's twice the amount of fabric. I must appear to be the monstrous lovechild of Dolly Parton and Larry Bird. It's just weird. I've never felt quite so visible and quite so large.
When I lose track of Alex in a store, I can always find him by acting like I'm looking for someone. Inevitably, someone will grab my sleeve and point him out. Seriously. It's taken for granted that the two white people in one location are together. When we walk around, people stare and point. I can't even say how many times I've heard "Helllllllloooooo!" followed by giggles. And Alex? As far as I can tell, he doesn't get quite the "what is that weird creature" stares. However, he was trying on coats in the same market and I noticed a group of adolescent guys watching him through a window. Staring, rather. Not talking, just watching Alex try on coats. Alex tried on 3 different black coats and as soon as he picked out the one he liked, the group of guys entered the store and asked the salesclerk for the all the coats that he had just tried on. Draw your own conclusion.
Toilets: Part Two
Mothers, teach your daughters how to pee standing up. Because there are only squat toilets in China, and they don't smell too nice. If I could pee standing up, I would never have to squat over a disgusting hole in the ground. I could stand up, far away from the smell and hold some nice potpourri under my nose . MaryKay, are you with me on this?
Our hostel is really clean, warm and offers a pool table and 24 hour hot showers. What is not mentioned when you check in, is that the (squat) toilets and showers are located outside. Which means you have to go outside in the freezing rain to get anything done. It's like a really clean motel, but the bathroom is where you park your car. Did I mention there are only squat toilets in China? Ok, there are only squat toilets in my price range in the one city in China that I have seen so far.. The thing is, I'm not sure how much money is needed to make the distinction between "backpacker" and "can afford to pee in Western toilet". And who decides these things, anyway? You would think that McDonald's would splurge for a Western toilet, but no! They decided to blow the Western toilet fund on a statue of Ronald that bows. Really.
And then the clouds roll in....
OK, it's not that bad. I'm just griping because we've been traveling for nearly 3 months and I'm ready for a little stability. Having Alex get sick again was a huge bummer, because the one place you want to be when you're sick is home. And we're essentially homeless. It's a weird feeling.
Holing up in hotel for 4 days is a great way to get yourself depressed. Alex didn't even get to leave the hotel for something like 36 hours, because he wasn't feeling well. It can be really hard sometimes sharing a small space and spending every second together. We've spent nearly every minute of the last 6-8 months right next to each other, between working on the train and taking this trip and I'd be lying if I said it was a piece of cake all the time. We get along better than I could have hoped for, but we always forget that we still have to have some personal time on occasion.
And though this trip has been far better than I could ever have imagined, we've had some scary moments too. Like when we where in Vientiane, and Alex woke up vomiting at 3AM. I had no idea what to do. In the states, I would have waited till morning, then gotten him to a doctor if he was still sick. But after being in the villages and doing some jungle hiking and swimming in fresh water, I had no idea what he might have contracted. I was terrified. Some tropical diseases can do permanent damage in less than 48 hours. Few times in my life have I felt so vulnerable and so helpless! I was determined to take him to a doctor that night (but what doctor? Where?) if necessary despite Laos's lousy track record for medical facilities, until Alex said he was sure it was food poisoning. And even then he wouldn't go to a doctor until 2 days later!
I later found out that Vientiane's medical care is even worse than I thought, with reports in the paper about how the city's emergency line is often unavailable due to the responders using the line to make personal calls! And this was confirmed again when Alex got horribly misdiagnosed . He was sick for 2 weeks longer than he should have been, if I had gotten him the proper care in the first place by getting his protesting ass back to Bangkok for treatment. It's easy to make light of it now that he's better but when Alex was losing weight like crazy and not eating anything, I was scared. His fright was masked with frustration, of course.
On a lighter note, I feel like I've looked my fear of heights squarely in eye. While on the "Gibbon Experience", I forced myself to zipline out over the treetops despite a fear of heights so bad I'm trembling writing about it! The first time, I strapped myself in, clipped my line on, and just sat down on the little wooden ledge jutting out 100 feet high over the jungle. I had a conversation with myself that went something like this: "OK, girl, you can do this! If this line can hold everyone else, it can hold you. And do you really want to be the only person who needs help? " So I jumped. I don't really remember the jump, or the zip, just the part when I got close to the end of the zipline and Alex was looming closer and closer, yelling "Brake! Brake! BRAKKKEEEE!"
Ah, the hazards of travel. The sweetest parts of life and the scariest get pushed so close together. They start becoming friends and inviting one another to dinner parties. They even swap places sometimes in your memory, so that what you feel as the scariest moment of your life becomes the sweetest, once you've conquered it.
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Therese
non-member comment
Yummy
Hey, I'm glad that book is coming in handy! And you're not a bad person if you think eating knuckles and random spare parts is gross - it is gross. I also (seriously) highly enjoy the fact that most of your blogs are about poop and food.