This is why I no longer need my belt

As the One Month Left In Beijing mark approaches, my friends and I are measuring our remaining time here in meals. We have a list of places to go at least once (but really twice) before we leave. Can you imagine what our final meals will look like? Blow outs. And what they'll cost! We keep adding new restaurants to our repertoire. As it stands now, the restaurants to which we must return are: Thai, Tibetan, Hakka, Shanghaiese, Cantonese, Jiachang (Homestyle), Indian, and Japanese. And there are many more which we are dying to try. Perhaps we shall have to implement two-dinner days.

Last Friday, we went out for Shanghai food. When I spent last summer in Shanghai, I fell in love with real Chinese food, and, more importantly, a special Shanghai dish called Malan Tou, a green vegetable that does not exist in the US chopped up and mixed with tofu, oil, and salt and served cold. Given it's near unavailability in the US, I hadn't eaten it since last June.

And then, like a gift from the culinary deities, there came the Shanghai restaurant. The four of us ordered the glory that is Malan Tou. I thought of Yvonne, my foodie friend who was in Shanghai with me, with every bite. I wish I could take some home in a doggy bag.



The four of us (the equivalent of 7 or 8 normal people), also ordered this boiled chicken:



It was very smooth but lacking in a bold flavor (it just had a bird flavor). Jason enjoyed it greatly, but I preferred to shovel Malan Tou into my mouth.



We ordered these lovely rolls. It's tofu sheets wrapped around meat and vegetables in the middle and served in a nice light brothy thing.

Then we ordered this spectacular eel:



It didn't even taste fishy or anything. It's served in this really nice salty, oily sauce, and cooked to tender perfection. Really, it tasted like nice fat, chewy noodles. Really good.

I don't know the name of this dish, but basically it's cooked pork fat doused in sauce. Really tender, really good, really bad for you (as is pretty much everything).



Then came what we had all been waiting for: the xiaolong bao. Xiaolong bao are a delicacy. Places in Beijing claim to have them, but really, they don't, and this drives Annetta mad. Xialong bao are dumplings with meat in the middle. But what makes them special and separates them from regular dumplings is the fact that they have soup in the middle. So picking them up, especially with chopsticks, is quite the challenge, as is eating them gracefully. It's pretty hard not to make them burst at some stage in the eating process. The problem with the “xialong bao” in Beijing is that there's no soup in them, so it's a joke. But these were not a joke:



We liked them so much that we ordered another platter. And then we ordered two desserts. One of the desserts was this clear, slightly sweet soup with chewy rice balls. There were also these:



The menu used English to describe them as Pumpkin Cakes. Clearly not. Basically they were orange chewy things with red bean paste in the center. They were okay, but not sweet enough for me. That's the thing about Shanghai cuisine: the flavors are generally light and delicate. I love really strong flavors, but I can get past that for the food. Not as much for the dessert, though.

After dinner we went to see a movie. It had been so long since I'd seen a movie in the movie theater, and as a film major, the withdrawl had been particularly painful. The thing is, it's really hard to find out what's playing when and where. In the newspaper, they list the theater's name, location, and phone number, but not the movies that are playing or the times. You have to call their automated hotline, pick the movie you want to see, and get the time that way. I'm bad on the phone in English; trying to listen to a machine speak Chinese into my ear through a cell phone getting crappy reception and not knowing the names of any movies is even harder.

Eventually, we just decided to go for a movie entiled “Hong Meili,” which literally means 'red beauty,' but which is translated as 'Red Shanghai.' When we got to the movie theater, we discovered there were no English subtitles. But being starved for a movie and not wishing to see “Spiderman 3,” we opted for “Hong Meili” anyway.

Let me offer you this word of caution: should you ever come to China and wish to see a movie, try not to just randomly pick one. It was pretty bad. Actually, it was awful. Painful. And their film reels were messed up, so the film was shown out of order. At least, I think it was. The movie was so poorly done that I couldn't tell if the blatant errors were a “stylistic choice” or the result of a lazy movie theater staff.

The only good thing about it was that I understood everything. I knew basically everything they were saying. I felt so smart. Granted, they were speaking slowly and clearly, but I take that as a sign that my Chinese has actually improved.

Finally, I can tell that my Chinese has improved. After about two months of constant confusion and struggle, I have finally reached my breakthrough point. I can switch back and forth between English and Chinese with ease. I can listen to and speak Chinese without having to translate into English first. Sunday, Tianqi had us over for dinner and her father cooked for us (amazing, but that's not the point of the story). After dinner, we sat and had a conversation, but we didn't just talk about the weather. We talked about health insurance, health care, and education problems in China and America. And I contributed to the conversation. I can also read the newspaper with a decent comprehension rate, which is no small feat.

It's so nice to get a payoff after a lot of hardwork. But realizing that my Chinese has gotten fairly good also makes me sad, because I know that the second I get on the plane to leave Beijing, my Chinese ability will continue to decrease. It happened after Shanghai, and it will happen after Beijing. But I feel like it's worse this time, because now I can actually speak the language. So while I may get to brag that I speak Chinese, maintaining it will be the real feat.

Saturday, Jason, Annetta, and I returned to the arts district we went to in March. The art there was not as good as it was last time. This was the best thing I saw:





A man and a woman pulling opposite ends of a red string, but the man is working hard and the woman is just standing there nonchalantly. I'm not quite sure what the meaning is, but I like it. I could think about it for a long time.

After that, we went to a Thai/Indian restaurant. We had heard tales of an all you can eat buffet, but upon arrival learned that it was only weekdays at lunch. But we decided to eat there anyway. The three of us ordered six dishes (we were hungry) and two desserts. Annetta and I had been looking forward to it all day.



Sadly, there was no payoff. It was strikingly mediocre; disappointingly so, as you can see from our faces. Annetta and I are usually euphoric with an after-food glow post-gorging, but not that night. We were full, but not satisfied. That's one of the worst feelings ever. So we went back to school and gorged ourselves upon candy while watching “The Big Lebowski.” It only partially healed our wounds.

Sunday Tianqi took me to the Beijing Film Academy to look around. Everyone was still on vactation, so there wasn't anyone around, but it was still spectacular. It is a ten minute walk from Tianqi's house. I'm jealous.



Isn't it pretty? It felt amazing to be on a campus dedicated solely to the art of film.



I also found out that they have foreign exchange students. Hmm... maybe if I don't get into UCLA...





It's also a ten minute walk from Tianqi's school, so she took us there to look around as well.



It pretty much looks like every other Chinese school, but I liked seeing where she goes every day.

Wednesday our teachers took us to the Beijing World Art Museum. It wasn't that interesting, sadly. I think that the Chinese are really bad at organizing museums (this is not the only one that I've been to). They just put a few things out on the floor and don't give you any information on them. If they do provide information, it's usually regarding an object's size, material, weight, or other useless trivia, nothing about historical value or implications.

The museum did have the Olympic torch, though. That was cool.



And this is my class in front of the torch (which you can't see).



Outside there was also a Chinese history time line. It's laid out on the ground, and needless to say, it's a long walk. It certainly made me feel young, seeing as my life span is just a tiny portion of a tremendous chunk of history. We're studying history now in class, and our textbook is sadly vague. Chinese history is incredibly complex, but somehow the book boils it down to simplistic historical figures described in convenient vocabulary.

That night, Jason, Victoria, Annetta, and I went out for Cantonese food. The Frommer's book I bought about Beijing has recommended almost all of our favorite restaurants, so we picked a Cantonese one from there. It has yet to lead us astray.

Otto's restaurant is a very busy hole in the wall. The menu is written on the wall (though they also give you a traditional one to look through), and there were no more than 15 tables. Annetta lived in Hong Kong for awhile, and Jason is from Singapore, so they know their Cantonese stuff. We are definitely going back there.

First, we ordered these chicken wings, which came recommended by the book:



Perfection. By far the best chicken wings I have ever had (rivaling Tianqi's dad's—that's hard to do). The skins were fried to a delicate crispy perfection, and the inside was tender. They were lightly spiced with garlic and topped with small bits of crumbled potato chip things and onions.

Then we ordered some green vegetables in oyster sauce.



Boring.

Next there was this pork and lotus root in a clay pot.




It's purple! I liked this one a lot—the taste isn't like anything I've ever had before. I would say it's a little sweet, but I think that's the wrong adjective.

We ordered beef noodles:



We also ordered a steamed fish:



While I've been eating fish here, I didn't go for this one because it was neither fried nor topped with a thick, tasty sauce.

After we had ordered but before our food came, some people at another table had orderd this curried vegetable thing served in a pumpkin.



The moment I saw it, I knew we were born of the same spirit. My mouth and stomach were made for that dish. I marveled aloud at it, wishing we had known to order it. And then, my friends said “Let's order it!”

These are the kinds of friends I have. They not only appreciate food, but they don't hesitate to order what some may consider to be “too much” (not possible). Over the course of my three months here, I have fallen in love: with Chinese, with Chinese food, and with my friends. They are wonderful. We have so much fun together and revel in stuffing our faces full of food. With my non-foodie friends, I 'm always the biggest eater. With my Foodie Gang of Four (or in the Foodie Triad), this frequently holds true, but it's also up for debate. My friends know how to eat. And sually when I go to programs where I don't know anyone, I either don't get to close with anyone, or I start to actually like people at the very end. Thankfully, that has not happened this time. I have found my foodie soulmates.

The pumpkin, by the way, was what Halloween should be all about the. The pumpkin was cooked to a soft, mushy hunk of delectable gourd. The vegetables were swimming in a creamy sauce that didn't skimp on the curry powder. Next time, I'm ordering one just for myself.

We then ordered three desserts. Victoria and Annetta shared this pitcher of coconut milk, Sago, and fruit. I got a bowl of fruit, sago, and yogurt. Jason got that but with syrup instead of yogurt.





When we were done, we were, as always, cheng si le, or, in approximate English, “stuffed to death.” At least we'll die happy.

Here I am on the subway reading the paper. This little kid probably understands more than I do. But I think it's cute. And if you squint really hard, it looks like I know what I'm reading.