Rumblings

Ugggggh, my tummy doesn't feel so good. It must have been a combo of some old rice I had Saturday morning, plus the stinky tofu and suan nai. And then, greed of greeds, I had to down all that spicy and sour Sichuan food yesterday. Now it's 6am and I'm suffering. I am not a happy camper.

Comings and Goings: Just another weekend in Beijing

One thing that's a little sad about Beijing is how inconstant and ever-changing the expat community is. It seems we're always welcoming someone or saying goodbye. This weekend we bid farewell to John with a Friday night dinner in Nanluoguxiang. It was Indian food at Mirch Masala, perhaps more "americanized" than the Indian food in America even. That, coupled with the plethora of foreigners, made it feel just like having a meal out back in the States.

There are a number of adorable boutiques on that street, including one where I practically wanted to buy the whole store -- it specialized in antique minority clothes and jewelry, with lots of cute accessories made from typical minority fabrics (Dai, Miu, etc.). I settled for a cowbone cocktail ring and a little hand-stitched pouch. We whiled away some time at a cozy little coffee shop called Guitar Bar, appropriately bedecked in old rock n' roll paraphernalia (and hella expensive drinks). Then, because all roads lead to Sanlitun on the weekend, we spent some time enjoying music from the Xinjiang Boys at Cheers (again) before capping the night at Bar Blu.

Saturday, I planned to wander around by myself but ended up meeting up with a couple friends at the Jishuitan subway stop. We walked all the way from there, along Xihai and Houhai, where the sun was starting to dip behind the trees and the light was perfect. Snapped this picture of ducks slipping and sliding over the barely frozen water:

Also had my very first taste of suan nai, this really traditional Beijing yogurt drink sold in almost every small grocery store in these little ceramic pots sealed with paper. I wish I'd discovered it earlier because it was sooooooo delicious -- some of the freshest, most natural-tasting yogurt I've ever had.

Followed this with stinky tofu and a pastry filled with sweet red bean paste.

Then walked to Nanluoguxiang, again, and wandered around a bit, stopped for some lime and honey water at Fish Nation, before poking into Hangzhou Baozi for these delectable little steamed miniature buns filled with juicy meat. (Here's a picture of the lady making them.）

Then returned to Wudaokou for dinner at Isshin, after which I wandered around myself for a bit and bought a couple hats from the Wu boutiques.

Sunday, today, we set out for Chuan Ban, or the restaurant associated with the Sichuan regional office, known to be the best Sichuan restaurant in town. We gorged on chicken swimming in chili oil:

Some sweet and tasty green beans, and suancai yu, this amazingly tender and delicate white fish swimming in a broth flavored by picked mustard greens.


Topped with some of the fluffiest corn pancakes I've ever had, which we dipped liberally in sweet condensed milk.

Afterwards, discovered this awesome shoe store called Hot Wind, where the shoes were plentiful, super cute, and best of all, CHEAP. I scored some gray suede pumps for Y249 (around $33) and lime green ballet flats for Y99 ($13!). Then wrapped up the evening with karaoke, again, at Cashbox "Party World" KTV, again. Yes, I am addicted.

Beijing says: “We teach you beetches how to KTV!"

Ohhh, so 有 (you) feeeeeling. One of the slight misuses of English I noticed is that when I'm really excited about something, whether it's Xinjiang food or karaoke, my coworkers will tell me, "You're so high!" And I know they're not talking about drugs, but it never ceases to amuse me =)

Tonight I went with the Happy Girls (otherwise known as ztang, wenwen, 老 P, and carol) for what was my third time at Cashbox Karaoke (inexplicably labeled as PARTY WORLD outside). The last two times I was photographically disabled, and so could not do this glorious experience the justice it so rightly deserves.

Just to make one thing abundantly clear: Karaoke-ing in China puts anything I've ever experienced in America to shame. Shame, I tell you. And here is why.

First, the outside. Not sure if you can see it, but yes that is a Ferarri parked outside. Again, inexplicably.

You walk in through these large glass doors and enter this gold and white, sparkling, totally marbled lobby with high flying ceilings. It dawns on you that you have entered not just a Party World, but a karaoke palace. You feel sufficiently humbled -- you are a long way away from the cramped, dim, dingy, brothel-like establishments of downtown Sunnyvale that won't even serve peanuts, let alone alcohol.

Yes, it's totally over the top, enough to rival the most audacious Vegas casino in its use of gold on absolutely everything. It even sold its own paraphernalia, some no-name dudes from China's version of American Idol:

We waited around for almost 30 minutes for a room. And trust me it was not for lack of rooms - this place was 6 floors, with something like 50 rooms on each floor. I guess it was just a hoppin' Thursday night. When we finally got it, we were ushered into a gold-plated elevator...

down a lavish hallway...

...and into a comfortably small but annoyingly warm room, well appointed with sofas, flat-screen TV and fully automated song selection system.

One of the highlights of karaoke-ing at Cashbox is the free, sprawling buffet included in the price. Just when you think it couldn't get any better, they throw FOOD at you. Not literally. But you could have made-to-order noodles, finger foods like fries and onion rings, fresh squeezed juices, customized hotpot (with some addictive sesame sauce), a variety of Chinese pastries, regular dishes like Chinese broccoli and fried rice, and all the sugary drinks you could possibly hope for.

Yes, that's tomato-and-egg over noodles on the bottom left. Yummm. All this plus about 3 solid hours of singing, to be had for the lowly sum of ~Y100 per person. It's enough to make the most humanly imperfect being drop to her knees and cry out, "What did I do to deserve all this?!?"

I'll post some clips on YouTube later, esp one of the girls rapping to 中国话. But for now, some highlights:

• The girls rapping to 中国话.
• Wenwen and my duet, "When You Believe" by Mariah and Whitney.
• Armin serenading us with "The Pretender."
• About 10 songs from the girl trio S.H.E.
• Armin and ztang's duet, "A Whole New World."
• Us encouraging the girls to join us on Madonna's "Material Girls," and wenwen protesting, "Oh noooooo, we are spiiiiiiiritual girls!"
• The girls teasing 老 P for putting them to sleep with her suuuuuper sad love songs.
• Many "so 有 feeeeeeeeeeeling" duets by ztang and carol.
  

Man, I can't wait to take my mom here =D.

Just how shameful is my Chinese?

Living around the Wu, 五，or 5, as we alternately call it, you run into quite a few foreigners, 外国人， or simply 老外, most of them students at Qinghua learning Chinese. There are a lot of students from Korea, too. When I get into a cab and tell the driver how to take me home, about 3/4 of the time they will ask me, 是韩国人吗, or, "Are you Korean?" At first I believed they really thought I looked Korean. It was just annoying to have to explain, almost every day, that no, I am actually overseas Chinese.

Then, the other day, I got it again..."Are you Korean?" “No," I replied, for the umpteenth time, "I'm Chinese-American. My ancestors are Chinese. We don't speak Chinese at home, that's why my Chinese is so bad."

The guy turns around and says, "Well, when you speak Chinese, you sound Korean! You better study and practice your Chinese well so you don't sound like a Korean! Korean people are rude!" At least, that's the interpretation I understood. Something tells me his meaning was a lot more acrid. The worst was, he wouldn't let it drop, and kept lecturing me for the remainder of the cab ride.

To my Korean brothers and sisters, I apologize on behalf of Beijing cabbies.
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Anyway, Tuesday night we went again to Kiev for more Russian food goodness. I took a chance on the borscht and it was perfect. The spinach rolls were not as exciting, but pretty:


Yesterday we went to 一品小笼 for xiaolongbao for the second time in four days. It was decent, but unremarkable as the first time and I missed the delicate perfection of my beloved Din Tai Fung. The dumplings:

And more noteworthy, the dumpling-shaped lighting fixtures (so cool!):

儿's and "er"s

One thing people have trouble with when they come to Beijing is the Beijing accent, especially heavy in cab drivers who tend to slur their words in addition to a liberal use of the 儿, as in, 你去哪儿 (ni qu narrrrrrrr）? It makes comprehension that much more difficult for the non-native speaker such as myself. More confusing still is that not every word ending in an "n" sound gets turned into an "er." The word for gate, 门 (men), turns into 门儿 (men-er, or mer) . Same goes for hospital, 医院儿 (yiyuan-er, or yiyuar) and skewers, 串儿 (chuan-er or chuar). I can't even think of cases where you don't add an 儿, and still haven't quite figured out when to use it, so I just end up using it all the time. But I know it’s wrong. It is equivalent, says my Lonely Planet guide, to a Chinese person coming to the States and speaking in a thick Creole accent all the time.

Anyway, and I know it’s a bit of a stretch, but it made me think of a recent discussion I had with Garry and his roommate about “er”s as they relate to positions, titles, and identities. For instance, someone asked if Chris would consider himself a “surfer.” His response: “I surf, but I’m not a surfer.” So, what kind of “er”s did apply to him? Teacher, yes. Gardener, yes.

It reminded me of how, in Hollywood, some people would completely embrace the label “writer,” while others would turn their eyes away, sheepishly, and echo, “I write, but I’m not really a writer yet.” So when does one do so much of a certain verb that one earns the “er”? In the case of writers, I assumed you could only really call yourself a writer when you are actually paid to write, (and I would look archly at anyone who claimed to be a writer who had not yet sold a script… this sort was generally considered “aspiring writer,” as in, they aspire to someday be paid some monetary sum, however small, for their labors).

There are other things that you can do without being paid, and still earn the “er,” like gardener or dancer or mother (who does, I guess, a lot of moth-ing har har). Anyway, again, kind of a stretch, but I guess one could look at the Beijing 儿 in a similar way, like you know you’ve really arrived when you know how to use the儿’s correctly. I guess I have a long way to go.

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Anyway, the lowdown on last week:

Monday: Back to Isshin for some yummy Japanese staples like pork katsu with curry, salmon sashimi and tempura-fried soft tofu.

Tuesday: Went to some delectable Sichuan-style place that looked like some very rich man’s mansion, with koi pools galore and many a grand staircase inside. The food included some special fish flown directly from Sichuan, a long slimy little thing that was rather tasty, but gave me the creeps.

Wednesday: A fancy Taiwanese place in the Gate 8 (新中关) shopping mall. Delicious beef. Pretty solid on the stir fried cabbage with bacon too.

Thursday: Huge dinner party at my favorite Xinjiang restaurant where we gorged on 拉条子 (hand-pulled noodles), 大盘鸡 (da pan ji), 羊肉串(lamb skewers), 酸奶(yogurt), and mutton over Muslim bread soaked in delicious juices.

Friday: Good gracious. Super late dinner at South Beauty in Chaoyang, another Sichuan place. One amazing dish involved dunking thinly sliced beef in a big bowl of hot oil until it was cooked. Meatball, “delicious chicken,” and other staples were also great. Swung by the bookstore, Bookworm, to have a peek. Then we went to Sanlitun under the pretense of going to Bar Blu, but my real intention was to see if the Xinjiang Boys were playing at Cheers that night. THEY WERE. Oh, it was glorious. We stayed until like 3am just dancing and singing along to covers of the Gypsy Kings and 4 Non Blondes. Then, someone had the brilliant idea of heading to Cashbox KTV, the karaoke palace. Yaaaaaaay, 24-hour KTV!

Saturday: Somewhere between the stuffy confines of Cheers and the numbing cold air outside, I got sick. Plus tummy issues. So I spent most of the day in bed. Sadness.

Sunday: Went to the Lama Temple for a brief stroll, marveled at the 6-story-high gilded Buddha. Headed to Xidan for some shopping, but didn’t get anything. I never cease to be amazed at the Chinese’ capacity for shopping. Gigantic malls everywhere, full of stuff. Sheesh. Then proceeded to take 3 subway lines plus a taxi to the Lido Holiday Inn, to visit my uncle.

Tonight: Met up with a new friend (who happens to work for Jet Li, har har) at the Starbucks in Houhai. I got a tiny gingerbread latte for the unreal price of Y29. That’s like $4. I don’t know who can afford this stuff. It was freezing tonight, but we proceeded to wander around the hutong looking for No Name Restaurant, this Yunnanese place I’d read about. We had to stop for directions. It was freezing. Finally we found it, tucked away in a back alley. It was a pleasant surprise, gorgeously decorated with mirrors, great lighting, koi ponds, mosaics, fancy lanterns:

Food was really good, but not quite on par with Middle 8^th. Liked the Chinese greens sautéed with fragrant smoky ham, and Yunnanese fragrant rice with cubed potatoes, apples, and mushrooms, and lemongrass grilled fish:

There was a random kitty hanging out around the tables. Not terribly hygienic, but super cute. Here he is, toyin' with the koi:

Lastly but not leastly, two Google tools I have come to know and love: Google Pinyin, and Google Translate. Hallelujah.

We interrupt your regularly scheduled program...

...to tell you that Rambo is going to Burma.

Yes, Burma.

I'm not sure what I think about it. See the trailer here.

I'm in Beijing, but this morning my heart is in LA.

Why Los Angeles is the greatest city in the world.