Twelve Kwai Of Trouble

Stick and I went back to our possible hutong home, mostly to see if we could find it on our own. We were successful, and I fell even more in love with the neighborhood. The area is Brick Factory Road, where the workers who built the bricks for the drum tower lived, but the inside has been renovated to include hot water and internet. I’m really hoping the bargaining stars will align and we’ll get our high-speed hutong.

Then we took a roundabout trip home, and stopped at Xizhimen to check out a sushi place. It’s on the 5th floor of the Xizhimen mall, but I don’t know the name. Well worth a visit if you’re looking for cheap, good sushi. (6-30 RMB for orders of various rolls) The beer is unfortunately restaurant price, it always makes me giggle to see a bottle that goes for three kwai in the supermarket appear on a menu for twenty. Not that that stopped us from ordering it.

The food was very good, the Tsingtao was Tsingtao, and Stick wasn’t quite done explaining the theory of relativity (I am not kidding), so we ordered another plate of cucumber sushi. The waitress came back a moment later with 12 RMB.

“Oh, I didn’t see you pay!” Stick said.

“What? I thought you paid!” I said.

Stick called the waitress over, and then I opened my mouth like a fish a few times. My survival Chinese has never been put to this test, I’ve never had to tell someone to take their money back! When she realized I had a problem with my change, she counted it back to me and showed that it was indeed 12 RMB. I finally made myself clear with my broken Mandarin (Women bu ge chien which I believe is the Chinese equivilent of “We no give money”). It is amazing that anyone ever understands me! Our waitress thanked us and sorted it out, but I think we gave her more than twelve kwai of trouble.

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Change Of Address

My long battle with the Great Firewall is coming to an end, I’m finally moving off Blogspot. My new blog is at SimpsonsParadox.com. Come see my new home!

Since I’ve brought all 762 posts (not an exaggeration) over, it seems like a good time to change my blog name to something a little less high school goth girl. I even made a banner!

There are still some formatting problems and links that don’t quite go anywhere. I’ll continue to update here for a few weeks, until I’m sure I won’t accidentally blow up my new site.

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Alive And Well

Just wanted to reassure everyone that the earthquake was very far from Beijing, and Stick and I are fine!

If I weren’t so classy, this is where I would put a joke about the earth not moving for either of us.

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Semi-Literate

We were coming out of the Hou Hai Starbucks this afternoon, and saw a water poet. I’ve written about this before, I think it’s awesome to watch them paint disappearing poems with their giant brushes. We went over to watch him work, which means I hopped around calling out the characters I recognized before sadly telling Stick that no, I have no idea what it says.

When he finished his piece, the poet turned to me and offered me the giant brush. Never wanting to miss an opportunity to publicly make a fool of myself try something unusual and new, I accepted. A crowd gathered and they guessed aloud what I was writing as I slowly and carefully wrote out three characters.

I have newfound respect for the waterpoets’ use of the giant unwieldy brush and unevenly flowing water-ink. They make it look so simple and smooth, but it was extremely awkward and made my usual childlike writing even worse than usual.


I wrote the top three, Mei guo ren, American (it was that or Ni Hao, I’m not playing with a full dictionary here), then handed the brush back to the poet, who whipped out the next two lines in the time it took me to write one word. It says:

nan something ming something
nu something tian hua

This proves that understanding greater than 50 percent can still leave me totally clueless as to the whole meaning. Men something, women something else.

I hope it says “Americans: Men are from Mars, women are from Venus.”

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Displaced Jersey Girl

Stick and I went to look at a possible new apartment in a hutong. We met with the rental agent at the subway station, and he led us down a maze of twisty little passages, lined with stands selling beige mugs of suan nai (sour yogurt), veggie sellers with crates of produce and that spicy skewered food we call boiled barbecue. Bikes are everywhere, moms with little ones on board, in various degrees of safety and comfort. Bikes loaded with recycling, with more boxes of veg, with deliveries. Bikes locked and parked, or haphazardly propped against the brick walls.

There is a smell of cigarettes, sweet incense and overripe fruit, stronger than the constant smell of Beijing drain. We are turning down smaller and smaller alleys, and I lose track of which doorways with peeling paint and potted plants we’ve entered and which we’ve passed. This is the China of my imagination, centuries of Beijing families living in these homes, conducting their business in these tiny active streets. I imagine great intrigues of concubines and inheritance occured just inside these courtyards.

“Where are you from?” the rental agent asks me.

“New Jersey,” I say, figuring there’s no way he’s familiar with the Garden State, and about to I tell him it’s a small state next to Niu yue shi (New York City).

“Oh, there is a famous singer from New Jersey!” he says, “Do know you Bon Jovi?”

Of course I know Jon Bovi! I’m from New Jersey!

“I like Bon Jovi very much. I also like Poison.” he tells us.

“Poison?” Stick asks. “How about Motley Crue?”

We turn down an alley between two brick, one-story homes, with corrugated roofs and flowers in ceramic jars, still talking about hair bands.

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Still Life With Beer

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Cow Cow Steak

“Stick! Look! That sign says ‘Cow Cow Steak Restaurant’!!! Check me out, I read the whole thing!”

“Hooked on radicals worked for Meg,”

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Undiscovered Powers

Basic Chinese is my new superpower. I’ve been making a lot of progress with vocab and the hellish tones, and I’m starting to feel like Matt Parkman on Heroes, magically given the ability to hear what people around me are thinking, or in my case, saying. In the grand scheme of superpowers, though, perking my ears up at waiguoren isn’t the greatest power set. I’m still no Green Lantern, more like the lame supergroup sidekick who really should stay back at the secret base and not keep coming along on missions and becoming a kidnapping liability.

Superman! Professor X! Girl Who Understands Simple Sentences When Spoken At Moron Speed!

With my newfound powers, I added another 50 RMB to my Beijing transit debit card. This card makes me feel like a real BeijingRRR, evening out the bizarre combination of vacation splurge and desperate attempts at survival that is expat life in China. The card also keeps me from saying which stop I’m going to when I get on a bus, thus saving hours of my life which have previously been spent repeating words I can kinda sorta say until the bus conductor says “OH! The inteRRRsection of RRRRRR Avenue and RRRRRR StRRReet! Why didn’t you say so?”

Beijing buses really are an untapped resource for Monty Python sketches.

Anyway, I recharged my transit card, and I had a few seconds to gloat over my ability to handle basic tasks in the language of the country where I make my home, when I remembered that the other day, when we were using Stick’s transit card as unintended by the manufacturers, it met with an accident. (We were using it as lockpick, if you must know. Stick and I divide our labour so that I talk the China talk, and he does the breaking and entering.)

I showed the woman at the service desk Stick’s mutilated card, and we had a pretty long conversation, where the patient lady told me that, yes, the card is broken and yes, there is money left on it, and yes, she does have new transit cards, but I wasn’t unable to convey that I wanted the remainder of the money off the card and on a new one. Xuemei later explained that we need to call the service number, but sadly my dependence on nigga-jigga makes telephones my Kryptonite.

Check out the podcast version here!

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Demolition

I like this street next to my school because it’s a very active street of small shops, raised up a few steps from the street, the way I imagine a medieval town would have been. Unfortunately, the road functions like an open-air sewer, which is probably quite similar to the age of plague and chivalry. Anyway, I was snapping these pictures when I saw a sign of change to come.


You can see it again at this dumpling shop.

This character, ?, means tear down or demolish. Apparently every building on this street is getting scrapped in the near future.

I talked to a guy who was pruning a tree further on, he said that if I come back in one year, I can eat delicious food in a restaurant here. I wanted to ask more questions, but my Chinese isn’t good enough.

I don’t want to overly glorify the hutongs, I know that these small mom-and-pop shops require hard work and long hours, but I can’t deny that these streets have personality and character. It’s sad to see it disappearing, amd making way for more gray block buildings and chain stores. One of the reasons we came to Beijing was to see the city changing and modernizing. But sometimes I feel like I’m here watching 4,000 years of culture torn down and replaced by lowest-bidder Western knockoffs.

This is my favorite picture of the day… I love the new year’s banner taped over the demolition sign.


More pictures of this street in my album here.

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Lies!

This is not Herbal Essence!

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