China Impressions: Road Trip Snacks

My first Chinese road trip occurred during my first trip to China back in 2009. Stephen’s family drove us to Chengdu so I could achieve my panda dream. This was also my first experience with Chinese road trip snacks. When we got in the car, Stephen’s cousin passed us a bag of snacks, which consisted entirely of fruit — mini bananas, pears, lychee and mangosteen. Some of my favorite fruit, but not the easiest to eat in the car. Growing up, my dad always took pride in our cars. It was the greatest compliment when my friends would get in and tell him our years-old van still looked and smelled brand new. Fresh lychee is not readily available in the U.S., but if it were, we would never be allowed to take it in the car. I can hear my dad’s voice now — “It’s sticky and you’ll get shells and seeds all over!” But that, in a nutshell, seems to be the requirement for Chinese road trip snacks: sticky, shells and seeds.

This month we were in China briefly for a friend’s wedding. The ceremony and reception were held at a resort in a quiet mountain town about 3 hours outside of Shanghai, so the bride and groom kindly rented a big bus to take all their out-of-town guests there. I was prepared to “hold it” the whole way — it was a previous Chinese road trip that enabled me to set my 7 hours “hold it” record (I do not recommend this). I have taken many Chinese road trips, but since I assumed there’d be nothing but squatters, I have never been inside a Chinese rest stop. Until now.

I was pleased to find one handicap sit-down toilet in a sea of squatters (did I set that 7-hour record for nothing?!). While I was in the loo, Stephen hit up the fruit stall — that’s what they have at Chinese rest stops, fruit stalls. When I emerged, he greeted me with a bag of bananas and lotus pods. Members of our group gathered round as I broke the pod open and popped a seed into my mouth.

“Oh god, this is horrible!” I said through muffled attempts to spit it out. Turns out you’re supposed to remove the bitter green shell before you eat it. If you do that the seeds are actually tasty.

Just then the bride came over and handed me what I thought was a souvenir relic from the Ming dynasty.

“Try it,” she said. “It’s good, it tastes like a potato.”

It was indeed good and potato-like, but I had no idea what it was. I meant to google “Chinese fruit or vegetable that looks like Satan’s mustache” when I got home, but I didn’t need to. An image of one happened to pop up on Reddit the other day. Turns out it’s a water caltrop, a type of water chestnut — those crunchy bits you see in tins or at the stir fry bar. Who knew they had such ominous exteriors.

Stephen returned to our little group with a bag of freshly roasted chestnuts (cue The Christmas Song). I’m not sure I’ve ever had freshly roasted chestnuts, but they were delicious, and in true Chinese road trip food form, difficult to open and sticky. At least the stall gave us an extra bag to put the shells.

Once back on the bus, everyone shared some of their treasures. One guy went down the aisle passing out sweet potatoes — piping hot, gooey, delicious whole sweet potatoes.

“Why did you buy a whole bag of sweet potatoes?” I asked him.

“Because sweet potatoes are awesome!” he replied. Touche.

So if you’re keeping tally, my Chinese rest stop road trip snacks consisted of a banana, lotus seeds, chestnuts, water chestnuts and a sweet potato.

When we couldn’t possibly eat another chestnut, we passed the bag through the bus, while other snacks came to us. I passed on the bag of dried squid, but grabbed a handful of the next thing that came by.

“Ooo, are these prawn crisps?” I asked.

“Did you just say prawn crisps?” the guy across from me asked, faking an English accent. “They’re obviously shrimp chips!”

My accent might say “American,” but apparently I’ve become more British than I thought.

On our way back to Shanghai 2 days later our bus stopped at the same rest stop. It was around 7pm, so instead of just snacks, we needed to eat something more substantial and dinner-like.

“So tell us, what can we eat here that won’t give us diarrhea?” one of the American guys whispered to Stephen. His advice was to get something hot and cooked, preferably not with meat. There were stalls selling rice balls filled with pork and salty egg, all kinds of tofu, ice cream, corn on the cob, and crepe-like sandwiches. We settled on the crepe-like thing filled with egg, spam and ketchup. It was surprisingly delicious despite how I described it, and we didn’t get sick from it either. On the way out we popped into the only store somewhat reminiscent of an American rest stop filled with packaged snacks like chips and candy. A bag of honey-flavored potato chips caught my eye because I remembered reading an article about Korean honey chip hysteria. I was so excited to try them. They were just OK — better if you thought of them as really thin biscuits/cookies instead of potato chips since they were so sweet. I later realized the popular chips are “honey butter” flavored, not just honey, so I probably bought some cheap rip off Korean chip. I guess I’ll have to go to Korea someday to try the real thing.

Though Chinese road trip snacks are some of the most inconvenient things to eat with their sticky shells, seeds and skins, they are also some of the healthiest. While I don’t see sweet potatoes, lotus and chestnuts coming to an American Flying J truck stop soon, it would be nice to have some options besides McDonalds, chips and candy on my next Megabus ride.

For more in my China Impressions series, click here.

China Impressions: The Karaoke Phenomenon

A karaoke room at the posh Shanghai joint

To say karaoke is big in China is to say chopsticks are big in China. Turn nearly any corner in any city and you’ll see a glaring neon “KTV” sign. But karaoke in China is very different than the American “I’m drunk and am gonna sing ‘Don’t Stop Believing’ with my buddies on stage” – it’s a very private affair. You get your own room, equipped with a TV, plush furniture and a high-tech song-selecting system. The place we went to in Chongqing last week even had a tambourine and maracas, and at a posh establishment in Shanghai we had our own butler who refilled our wine and fruit plates and mouthed the words to Lady Gaga when he thought no one was looking.

Last weekend we had lunch with some of Stephen’s old classmates in his hometown of Chongqing. They suggested we go to karaoke afterwards. Karaoke has always been a nighttime two-drink-minimum activity for me, but once we arrived it was clear why we were there in the middle of the afternoon – they were both excellent singers who needed no liquid courage.

Time Out Shanghai wrote that the karaoke singers who get the most attention are the best and the worst – the mediocre singers get the shaft. Unfortunately, I’m one of the latter. It takes me awhile to get the courage to sing. Stephen’s friend had no problem – the minute we arrived in the room, she picked out a song and grabbed the microphone. Then she picked Britney Spears’ “I’m Not a Girl” and thrust the microphone at me. I wasn’t mentally prepared for that, so I politely declined. She then proceeded to do the best Britney impression I’ve ever heard from a Chinese girl.

The problem I have with karaoke is that I’m afraid I won’t be able to hit the notes. Singing is one of those things you need to give 100%. It reminds me of the run-walk we do while crossing the street when the light is about to change. You can’t walk because you’re running out of time, but you don’t want to look stupid doing a full-speed run. So you do a half run, half walk jog and end up looking more stupid than if you just ran. That’s what I end up doing while karaoking – run-walking. I’m afraid to “run” and really belt the song out for fear of sounding out of tune, but I end up sounding out of tune by not stretching for the notes.

Stephen’s friend continued to pick out songs and belt them out like a pro. You could tell she did this a lot. Which brings me to my next topic – karaoke etiquette. What are you supposed to do while a person is singing? Do you give your undivided attention, like you’re at their concert, or do you talk, play with your phone, and eat fruit like the singer isn’t even there? The former seems too formal and puts too much pressure on the singer, but the latter is also awkward, like you’re hanging out with your friends at a coffee shop and one of them just happens to be singing in the corner.

Eventually, after much insisting from Stephen’s friends, I decided to sing a Chinese song. I properly butchered it, not just run-walking with my singing, but my Chinese pronunciation as well. (Wow, the British use of “proper”… yikes!) I then had to redeem myself with “Eternal Flame,” my karaoke standby, which I’ve been singing since I was a baby. The problem with karaoke is that once you start, it’s hard to stop. Once Stephen’s friend got me going, she queued up a bunch of English songs and we sang duets to Maria Carie, Rhianna and Beyonce. I was impressed with her English singing, as well as her knowledge of current music – it seems that bit about the Chinese being 5 to 10 years behind in American music is no longer true. She carried most of the songs, as it’s hard to run-walk your way through “Halo.” Eventually it was time to leave and we practically had to pry the microphone from Stephen’s friend’s hand. I’m sure she’ll be back for more next weekend, but I think I’m OK making karaoke a once or twice a year thing (that is, until I practice and learn to “run.”)

China Impressions: Airport security

Yesterday we had the pleasure of flying domestically in China. It’s never a pleasant experience, but yesterday was better than previous times — the flight was only delayed 40 minutes. Chinese airports are always full of pandemonium, from the complete lack of queues (see that, I used the British term!) to the muffled announcements those who understand Chinese can’t even make out. But I’ve written about Chinese domestic travel before. The one thing I forgot to touch on is security. The Chinese don’t seem to care whether your liquids are in a little bag or if you take off your shoes. However, it seems they are convinced every traveler has explosives or weapons attached to their body. The few times I’ve had a pat down in a US airport they usually brush your arms and legs and wave a wand around you. In China they get up close and personal. They wave the wand while simultaneously touching you everywhere — and I mean everywhere. There will be no underwear bomber on China Air.

Don’t touch my junk guy should never travel to China.

China Impressions: Dining, Take 2

As I mentioned in a previous post about Chinese dining, sometimes it’s nice not to have to make any ordering decisions. In the past, I’ve managed to find a few dishes on the table that I like. Last night was a little different.

We arrived late to dinner with some of Stephen’s associates last night (thanks, Beijing traffic!) so there was already food on the table when we arrived. Directly in front of me were a plate of cucumbers in a soy sauce and a plate of tiny shrimp. In the usual Chinese style, the shrimp still had their shells, heads and tails. Prospects were not looking good. A duck dish arrived and the waitress placed it on the opposite end of the table. One of our dinner companions gave me a heaping helping on my plate, but once I had finished it, I had no way to communicate “I want more!” without interrupting their conversation or standing up and reaching across the table. So I ate the cucumbers. I don’t even like cucumbers. But at the time they were much better than the spicy beef, ambiguous seafood dish or smelly green vegetables. I took a break, hoping for better food to arrive, but knew it was a bad idea. I knew conversation would lull in a minute and everyone would look up and question why I wasn’t eating anything. So I went for the shrimp.

I have yet to master how to eat a shrimp that hasn’t been peeled. Besides my whole not eating food with eyeballs still attached policy, I also stay away from them because I have no idea how to properly consume them. I held the little guy’s bug-eyed head steady with my chopsticks and tried to peel off his tail and shell. It was so tiny that when I removed one leg, half of his body came with it. I struggled with his tail and suddenly his head shot off. I did a quick look around the table and restaurant to see if anyone had noticed the airborne shrimp head. Luckily everyone was too into their conversations and unrecognizable seafood. I had visions of the waitress tripping on my shrimp head as she tried to fill my glass. No more shrimp for me.

Amidst my shrimp struggling I noticed a large group of white tourists walk in. Suddenly I was not the only white person around . I’m assuming they were part of a tour group, as the wait staff immediately brought them pre-determined dishes. I watched from afar as they all ate fried rice with forks. One of the women launched into an uproarious laughing fit as only an overweight white woman can. The entire restaurant turned to look at her. I envied their English conversations, but was glad I was at my small Chinese-speaking table. I may not have the “real” China experience with my five-star hotel and sit-down toilets, but at least I can eat with chopsticks and stomach more than fried rice.

Pass the cucumbers.

China Impressions: Toilets

(This is my final, and perhaps most important, China Impressions. Soon I will get back to writing about life in Chicago and the transition to London.)

Open any newspaper or talk to any economist and they’ll tell you China is the future. With their megacities and exploding economy, they’re theatening to overtake the US in terms of economic output within a decade. Yes, China is booming, but there’s one thing they need to work on–their toilets.

When I returned from my China trip last year, my friends joked that I could only talk about two things–pandas and bathrooms.

A toilet at the Dalian airport. Yes, I waited in line so I could photograph it.

Most Chinese toilets are what I like to call squatters, because you have to squat over them. They are essentially a glorified hole in the ground. I say “glorified” because it’s not like something out of Slumdog Millionaire, many of these squatters have modern plumbing flushing capabilties. But there’s no seat. Many westerners probably travel to China and pop a squat, embracing these toilets as the way of life. For me, it is a giant roadblock. For whatever reason, my body is incapable of relieving itself without sitting down. Once in Chongqing at Stephen’s aunt and uncle’s house I actually tried to use a squatter. Nothing happened. So some people may be limited in their travel by expenses or fear of air travel. I am limited by toilets. I’ve been to China twice now and have yet to see the Great Wall. Why? Because they don’t have sit-down toilets there. On the third day of our trip this year we drove 2 1/2 hours outside of Shanghai to visit a shipyard in Jingjiang. I could tell it was the kind of town that had squatters–or worse. So I held it for seven hours. When we returned to Shanghai we stopped at a restaurant just outside the city for dinner. I rushed into the bathroom to find my arch nemesis. Stephen asked the waitress if by chance they had another bathroom. She looked up at me, (I was towering over her by two feet), gave a little “Oh, you waiguo ren,” smirk, then said they didn’t. As the only white person in the entire restaurant, I was attracting enough attention as it was. But then the guys who had driven us suggested we go to a different restaurant, so we left. And everyone who had heard Stephen’s conversation with the waitress knew it was because the white girl couldn’t pee.

In the book I’m reading the author suggested that perhaps one of the most important Chinese phrases to learn is “I’m sorry, I am not proficient at squatting. Do you have another toilet option?” If I were the tattoo-getting type, I would get the Chinese characters for this tattooed somewhere. I could tell white people it meant something like “peace, love and harmony”, then point to it whenever I’m in China. Maybe I should just get it printed on a T-shirt.

Throughout the trip finding a toilet for me was always an epic quest. At the Bank of China building in Nantong I got four people involved in my search. They led me down a hallway and up a floor in the elevator. We stopped at a reception desk, picked up a key, and went down a different hallway. I ended up in what seemed like a hotel room in the office building. It was at least 90 degrees in the room which likely hadn’t been occupied in several months, but it had a glorious normal toilet.

While at the Shenzhen airport, I was greeted by a room of squatters. Just as I was about to hold it until Hong Kong, I discovered a door with a giant handicapped symbol on it. I peeked inside to find my Shangri-La–a regular bathroom. I almost felt bad about using it, but then I realized something: in China, I am disabled–toilet-disabled.

China Impressions: Dining

Although I’m back from my mainland and Hong Kong adventures, I didn’t get a chance to write more China Impressions. Ignore the fact that these next few are written from Chicago.

Some kind of raw fish during our fancy seafood dinner in Nantong. It was served smoking with dry ice.

Chinese people love to eat. I guess you could say that about almost any people, but dining out is a big deal in China. It’s a group activity–you’ll rarely see any tables of two. The waiter comes and brings a giant menu. Typically the most senior or eldest person at the table will pick a variety of dishes which are shared on a spinning tabletop. This can be both good and bad–good in that you never have to make any soup-salad decisions, you just sit there and try whatever is spun in front of you. It can be bad when what’s in front of you is raw fish or cow intestines.

China Impressions: Domestic Flying

I’ve flown domestically in China a considerable amount, both during this trip and last year’s. It’s never a completely pleasant experience, but it’s never been a bad experience. Until yesterday.

We left our hotel in Dalian around 10:45am for our 12:40pm flight to Shenzhen. The Dalian airport is relatively small, with only one terminal. We arrived at the gate to find that our flight was delayed due to aircraft delay. This is not unusual in China, but of course, inconvienent. We were flying into Shenzhen because it was much cheaper than flying to Hong Kong. Once we arrived in Shenzhen a driver would pick us up and take us to the Hong Kong border, where we would board a train to take us into the city. That was the plan.

 

China Impressions: Line Jumping

In a country where you can get arrested for shouting “Free Tibet!,” the government has banned Facebook, and people care so much about “saving face” and who pays the dinner bill, people are suprisingly not good at following rules and basic manners. They slurp their soup, expel phlegm everywhere on the sidewalk, and smoke anywhere, anytime, despite what any sign tells them. But the thing that really gets me is the line jumping.

Yesterday we flew from Beijing to Dalian. People were starting to hover at our gate, so Stephen said we should line up. “Why?” I asked. “We’re flying first class. Don’t we get to board first?” Stephen laughed. “Do you think Chinese people care about that?” He was right. The minute boarding began, people flocked to the gate like they were boarding the last ship on earth from the movie 2012. They seemed to forget it was assigned seating. It was absolute madness. Which brings me to a side topic–why are people, Americans included, always so anxious to get on the airplane? The only benefit to early boarding is being able to store your bag in the overhead bin by your seat. There’s no prize for being the first 50 to board. Why are we so excited to start breathing that recycled warm air?

We pushed our way to the first class line, which was filled with–you guessed it–passengers not flying first class. They would get in our line and at the last minute sneak under to the economy line. A guy pushed past us, almost shoving me against the wall, so that he could cut under to the other line. “That’s ok, sir, you go right ahead.” I told him. “After you.” That’s the beauty of being surrounded by people who don’t speak your language–you can talk about them to their face. It was strangely therapeutic. I know many people in China do speak English, and maybe this guy did. If so, I hope something I said sunk in.

Since we were flying first class, we were some of the first people off the plane, and thus first at baggage claim. We were in the perfect spot. “Do you think people will cut in front of us?” I asked Stephen. He thought we would be fine. He was wrong. The minute the first bag came onto the carosel, all hell broke loose. A man actually shoved me into Stephen in order to get in my spot. “No problem, sir.” I told him. “I know your bag is far more important than mine. You go right ahead.” He gave me the same blank stare I gave the flight attendant when I asked where the bathroom was and got a Chinese response.

China has been fun and interesting, but I’m looking forward to Hong Kong tomorrow. I’ve heard they actually have lines (“queues”) there.

China Impressions: Driving

Our first two days in China were spent riding in the car to cities 2 1/2 hours outside of Shanghai. It was during this time that I got to fully experience the wonder that is Chinese drivers. I’m currently reading “Lost on Planet China” by J. Maarten Troost. I couldn’t have brought a better book with me on this trip. He describes Chinese drivers perfectly:

“The bus to Ningbo was driven by a man with a fondness for swerving and blaring his horn, which could pretty well describe every driver in China. They are insane, these drivers; mad, crazy, dangerous. They drive angry, pissed off, aggressive. Cars, buses, trucks are just tools for them to say F*ck Off. That is how they drive in China: the F*uck Off school of driving. China has just three percent of the world’s drivers, but has a quarter of all people killed each year by cars. They don’t know how to drive in China. Really. Someone needs to teach them.”

There were at least 10 times that I thought my life was going to end right then and there, in the middle of the road out of Nantong. Still feeling a little jetlagged, I tried to sleep on our way back to Shanghai, only to be woken up and nearly thrown out of my seat every 10 minutes as our driver threw on the brakes to avoid being hit by a truck changing lanes. Trucks seem to believe they have full reign of the road, and can go wherever they please, even if there’s a car already there.

The Chinese also don’t seem to have any sense of lanes. It’s perfectly acceptable to pass on the shoulder and when the traffic is bad in the city, cars will try to squeeze in between other cars and ride on the lane line. I remember looking out the taxi window and seeing another car mere centimeters away.

And then there is the horn honking. Cars honk to signal they want to switch lanes. Then a car with honk to say “Ok, come over.” Another will honk to say “Hey, I’m here, don’t come over!” I can’t figure it out. An acceptable driving position seems to be 10 and horn instead of 10 and 2.

You loyal readers will remember that I am fond of analyzing the driver-pedestrian relationship in Chicago. In China there isn’t one. Cars have the rightaway all of the time, even when it’s a clear green man walking sign. I observed this first hand as I almost got plowed over by a bus tonight. It didn’t even slow down as it whisped by me. I was beginning to feel like Buddy the Elf–“The yellow ones don’t stop!” Except it’s not just cabs. No vehicle yields to pedestrians. I feel like I’m putting my life on the line every time I walk in China–or get into a vehicle, for that matter. Tomorrow we’re flying. I can only hope that’s safer.

Stay tuned for more China Impressions, including dining and–my favorite–bathrooms.