(please back date to 2/2/13)
I checked out of the hotel yesterday, prepared to spend the rest of the day wandering about the city as I waited for my train bound for Beijing to leave at 9:30 in the evening. I had a lot of time to kill. As soon as I walked out of the revolving door of the hotel after checking out, I was greeted in English by a, “Good afternoon, sir!”. Having not heard such sweet sounding words in days, I turned to and began talking to a man in his forties who had no initial expectations to talk with me, just saw a foreigner and decided to throw out some English. Well, he got a response. Most Chinese people who just throw out English when they see a foreigner just give me a, “Hello!” But they don’t say it like they are actually trying to speak English. They say it with a distorted, goofy voice, like I was a clown and they’re poking fun at me, and then they turn, giggle with their friends, and leave. They usually have no interest in making conversation (let alone wait for my response). But “Good afternoon, sir!” caught my attention. I replied, “Good afternoon to you too!” Then he asked me, in Chinese, “Ni cong nali lai de? (你从哪里来的?)” Where are you from? I told him I was American, also speaking in Chinese. He was astonished that I could speak Chinese and told me so. Then we continued to have a conversation in both Chinese and English. He proceeded to tell me that my Chinese is very good especially considering I had only lived in China for a combined total of one year. He said that he had talked with other foreigners in the city that had lived and studied here three or four years and that he still could not understand what they were saying. It was a matter of pronunciation. A common problem when learning the language in China is learning how to properly pronounce each word because each word is associated with a tone (even tone, rising, dipping, or falling) and if you get the tone wrong, you won’t be understood, or worse, you will be misunderstood. Anyway, he told me I had a gift for languages (I don’t, but I was happy for the compliment) and I told him he had one as well. His English was better than most Chinese people I have encountered. He started learning on his own when he was 35 and had been studying in total for five years. Lanzhou, despite its size, doesn’t have many foreigners so he was happy for the opportunity to practice a bit. I also learned that he loves America because people are free to pursue their dreams there (a common outlook amongst Chinese people), but mostly because of the music. He loves classic guitarists like Eric Clapton and the Eagles and he hates Michael Jackson because he is too noisy (he told me that three different times throughout our conversation). He also plays the guitar himself and can sing these classic songs in English. He was quite proud of that. He was pretty cool.
In other news, I had the time to further unravel the mystery of the Lanzhou noodles. I’ve pictured here the standard chao mian, the thicker noodles, fried with beef and vegetables, except this particular dish was made with mutton, yangrou (羊肉), because it was made by the hands of the Hui - I’ll explain shortly. There is another type of lamian called liangmian (凉面) which means chilled noodles. It sounds weird but they take the pulled noodles and add the cooked mixture of meat and vegetables on top without ever warming the noodles. You mix in a lot of soy sauce and lajiao (辣椒), a spicy pepper and chili powder mix (from Chengdu) and the dish is excellent.
I also learned something major today, or at least put together some pieces that should have made sense a long time ago. Gansu Province is home to the Hui minority of Chinese people, similar to Han in appearance, but they have their own language with no connection to Mandarin, and they are Muslim. The men wear the bucket caps that Alladin wears, and the women wear headscarves. There are some Hui Muslims that own small restaurants outside the school I attended in Chengdu and we always assumed they were Uighurs. But they were Huis. They look nothing like Uighurs. Lanzhou is filled with these beautiful mosques throughout the city that one might only expect to see in Xinjiang, but they all belong to the devout Hui people. It was an illuminating day. I don’t know why I only just put that together.
Since I had to spend the whole day walking around, I decided to take the long way by the river. I walked the length of the Yellow (sounds weird saying it like that) to the west and found the famed bridge everyone kept telling me about. It’s a cool bridge but certainly nothing mind blowing. Built by the crafty Germans it has been standing for 100 years which is impressive but, you know, its just an old bridge. I crossed the bridge and started to climb up the side of a hill where I knew there was a temple, the White Pagoda Temple. It was free and offered excellent views of the city below. I sat awhile by one of the benches in the sprawling temple entrance and observed a mother and her two small girls. The older girl was wearing a Little Mermaid backpack and the mother turned her around, opened the pack, and took out what was larger than a 2 liter bottle of coke (maybe it was 3 liters?). The three of them took swigs and then the little girl ran away. The other two chased her down. The older girl spilled some coke in the process.
I completed some functional chores as well. I visited the atm which I hope is for the last time during my stay in China and I recharged my cell phone which was more difficult then it sounds. It was a process to charge my Chengdu number in a non-Chengdu city. Good to know.
I sufficiently killed the day, went to the train station and hopped my train. Like the train from Jiayuguan, everyone was asleep instantly, including myself. Except this time I awoke to a landscape buried in snow. The sky was cloudy and white which met the empty horizon to a snow-swept plain. It was beautiful. You could tell the snow had recently fallen. But as we kept getting closer and closer to Beijing, the white scenery turned to dense gray. Maybe you’ve heard recently in the news, but Beijing is currently experiencing one of the worst spells of pollution in a long time. The government is urging its citizens to keep their kids indoors and take public transport if at all possible. CNN recently did a photo series title something like, “If you were a tourist in Beijing this week, this is what your photos would look like...” and proceeded to show all the major touristy photos: the Forbidden City, Temple of Heaven, Tiananmen, etc. under a thick blanket of smog. You could hardly tell where the pictures were being taken. So I guess my stay in Beijing won’t be a pretty one. But all the nicer when I arrive to the clean air in the north.
I’ve just checked into the Red Lantern Hostel in one of Beijing’s old hutongs (胡同) near Houhai (后海), a lake to the north of the Forbidden City. These hutongs are unique to Beijing and (although they are in danger of being razed, a story for another day) are a huge tourist attraction. But they don’t feel like a tourist attraction because you would have a hard time finding any of the tourists. The hutongs are huge, dense neighborhoods where the old citizens of Beijing live. You can get lost for days in the labyrinth that is a hutong if you’re not careful and the alleyways are crammed with genuine China. The food, the people, the daily lives are all of interest to the traveler.
I’m also meeting up with a friend, Flo from Germany who studied with me in Chengdu, tonight. Our travel paths are converging here briefly and I am happy to reconnect with a friend for a few days. I like traveling alone, and you’re never really alone because you are constantly meeting new and exciting people all the time, but reconnecting with an old friend is refreshing and a nice change of pace.
I will plan my stay in Beijing tomorrow morning. But not after I sleep in.
I checked out of the hotel yesterday, prepared to spend the rest of the day wandering about the city as I waited for my train bound for Beijing to leave at 9:30 in the evening. I had a lot of time to kill. As soon as I walked out of the revolving door of the hotel after checking out, I was greeted in English by a, “Good afternoon, sir!”. Having not heard such sweet sounding words in days, I turned to and began talking to a man in his forties who had no initial expectations to talk with me, just saw a foreigner and decided to throw out some English. Well, he got a response. Most Chinese people who just throw out English when they see a foreigner just give me a, “Hello!” But they don’t say it like they are actually trying to speak English. They say it with a distorted, goofy voice, like I was a clown and they’re poking fun at me, and then they turn, giggle with their friends, and leave. They usually have no interest in making conversation (let alone wait for my response). But “Good afternoon, sir!” caught my attention. I replied, “Good afternoon to you too!” Then he asked me, in Chinese, “Ni cong nali lai de? (你从哪里来的?)” Where are you from? I told him I was American, also speaking in Chinese. He was astonished that I could speak Chinese and told me so. Then we continued to have a conversation in both Chinese and English. He proceeded to tell me that my Chinese is very good especially considering I had only lived in China for a combined total of one year. He said that he had talked with other foreigners in the city that had lived and studied here three or four years and that he still could not understand what they were saying. It was a matter of pronunciation. A common problem when learning the language in China is learning how to properly pronounce each word because each word is associated with a tone (even tone, rising, dipping, or falling) and if you get the tone wrong, you won’t be understood, or worse, you will be misunderstood. Anyway, he told me I had a gift for languages (I don’t, but I was happy for the compliment) and I told him he had one as well. His English was better than most Chinese people I have encountered. He started learning on his own when he was 35 and had been studying in total for five years. Lanzhou, despite its size, doesn’t have many foreigners so he was happy for the opportunity to practice a bit. I also learned that he loves America because people are free to pursue their dreams there (a common outlook amongst Chinese people), but mostly because of the music. He loves classic guitarists like Eric Clapton and the Eagles and he hates Michael Jackson because he is too noisy (he told me that three different times throughout our conversation). He also plays the guitar himself and can sing these classic songs in English. He was quite proud of that. He was pretty cool.
In other news, I had the time to further unravel the mystery of the Lanzhou noodles. I’ve pictured here the standard chao mian, the thicker noodles, fried with beef and vegetables, except this particular dish was made with mutton, yangrou (羊肉), because it was made by the hands of the Hui - I’ll explain shortly. There is another type of lamian called liangmian (凉面) which means chilled noodles. It sounds weird but they take the pulled noodles and add the cooked mixture of meat and vegetables on top without ever warming the noodles. You mix in a lot of soy sauce and lajiao (辣椒), a spicy pepper and chili powder mix (from Chengdu) and the dish is excellent.
 |
| chao mian (炒面) |
I also learned something major today, or at least put together some pieces that should have made sense a long time ago. Gansu Province is home to the Hui minority of Chinese people, similar to Han in appearance, but they have their own language with no connection to Mandarin, and they are Muslim. The men wear the bucket caps that Alladin wears, and the women wear headscarves. There are some Hui Muslims that own small restaurants outside the school I attended in Chengdu and we always assumed they were Uighurs. But they were Huis. They look nothing like Uighurs. Lanzhou is filled with these beautiful mosques throughout the city that one might only expect to see in Xinjiang, but they all belong to the devout Hui people. It was an illuminating day. I don’t know why I only just put that together.
Since I had to spend the whole day walking around, I decided to take the long way by the river. I walked the length of the Yellow (sounds weird saying it like that) to the west and found the famed bridge everyone kept telling me about. It’s a cool bridge but certainly nothing mind blowing. Built by the crafty Germans it has been standing for 100 years which is impressive but, you know, its just an old bridge. I crossed the bridge and started to climb up the side of a hill where I knew there was a temple, the White Pagoda Temple. It was free and offered excellent views of the city below. I sat awhile by one of the benches in the sprawling temple entrance and observed a mother and her two small girls. The older girl was wearing a Little Mermaid backpack and the mother turned her around, opened the pack, and took out what was larger than a 2 liter bottle of coke (maybe it was 3 liters?). The three of them took swigs and then the little girl ran away. The other two chased her down. The older girl spilled some coke in the process.
 |
| Famed bridge over the Yellow River |
 |
| View of the river from the ascent to the White Pagoda Temple |
I completed some functional chores as well. I visited the atm which I hope is for the last time during my stay in China and I recharged my cell phone which was more difficult then it sounds. It was a process to charge my Chengdu number in a non-Chengdu city. Good to know.
I sufficiently killed the day, went to the train station and hopped my train. Like the train from Jiayuguan, everyone was asleep instantly, including myself. Except this time I awoke to a landscape buried in snow. The sky was cloudy and white which met the empty horizon to a snow-swept plain. It was beautiful. You could tell the snow had recently fallen. But as we kept getting closer and closer to Beijing, the white scenery turned to dense gray. Maybe you’ve heard recently in the news, but Beijing is currently experiencing one of the worst spells of pollution in a long time. The government is urging its citizens to keep their kids indoors and take public transport if at all possible. CNN recently did a photo series title something like, “If you were a tourist in Beijing this week, this is what your photos would look like...” and proceeded to show all the major touristy photos: the Forbidden City, Temple of Heaven, Tiananmen, etc. under a thick blanket of smog. You could hardly tell where the pictures were being taken. So I guess my stay in Beijing won’t be a pretty one. But all the nicer when I arrive to the clean air in the north.
I’ve just checked into the Red Lantern Hostel in one of Beijing’s old hutongs (胡同) near Houhai (后海), a lake to the north of the Forbidden City. These hutongs are unique to Beijing and (although they are in danger of being razed, a story for another day) are a huge tourist attraction. But they don’t feel like a tourist attraction because you would have a hard time finding any of the tourists. The hutongs are huge, dense neighborhoods where the old citizens of Beijing live. You can get lost for days in the labyrinth that is a hutong if you’re not careful and the alleyways are crammed with genuine China. The food, the people, the daily lives are all of interest to the traveler.
I’m also meeting up with a friend, Flo from Germany who studied with me in Chengdu, tonight. Our travel paths are converging here briefly and I am happy to reconnect with a friend for a few days. I like traveling alone, and you’re never really alone because you are constantly meeting new and exciting people all the time, but reconnecting with an old friend is refreshing and a nice change of pace.
I will plan my stay in Beijing tomorrow morning. But not after I sleep in.
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