Sights of China

Location: XI'AN, CHINA


In my last entry, I wrote about China through the sense of taste. However, to fully understand the country, the next obvious sense is that of sight. As the home of the Great Wall, Tiananmen Square, Mount Everest, the Terra Cotta Warriors, journaling every single abundant site makes my job complicated. However, most of the sights you can Google and envision them in their splendor and what it might feel like in person. So, I thought it would be better to show you the sights of Beijing and Xi An not included in our travel guides.


At 12,000 feet above sea level, Xi An's altitude and increased industrial pollution restrict the lungs, dry the skin and chap the lips. The humidity and our inability to pack shorts, made hiking to the Terra Cotta Warriors, the Hot Springs and Mount Hua-Shan strenuous. As the toxic sun beamed onto our foreign skin, the women of Xi An carried parasols, reminiscent of the Antebellum South. Perhaps they had gotten the memo that fair skin is in and skin cancer is out. Mighty rivers that once fed the nation now streamed polluted sludge through Xi An, where the runoff is still used for drinking water, bathing and bathroom. Welcome to our second stop.

As you can tell, Xi An has not been my favorite stop. I had waited for many years of my childhood to see the Terra Cotta Warriors, and don't get me wrong, they were splendid. The hike to the top of Mount Hua-Shan produced more than just amazing pictures and sore muscles; its clean air and challenges were revitalizing. But, the transition from a crowded, smoggy Beijing, to a fairly crowded and increasingly more smoggy and humid Xi An has provided its own challenges. But, enough about Xi An. Let's get to the odd sites.


Lost in Translations As I said in the last entry, it has been very difficult to order food because everything is in Chinese and I speak very little Chinese. Trying to order food at a KFC that uses only Chinese characters is like trying to decipher Hammurabi's Code without the Rosetta Stone; it is just impossible. However, even when the menus or signs are in English, the translations are just as hard to decipher.


Food and Drinks After a long day of trekking through Beijing, our group got lost in a back alleyway. Now, when the whole country seems to be a back alley, we were not worried. However, we were growing hungry, and started looking for food. We came across this sign outside of a literal hole-in-the-wall restaurant. We guessed their Internet translation missed the whole translation all together.

But, sometimes it is better just not to have a translation. This bottle of liquid, possibly recycled water, is called "toilet water." If that is just a flavor, I pity the poor worker in charge of quality control and testing.

The worker in charge of quality control at this restaurant should ask for hazard pay. The restaurant, known for its greasy calzones and American style pizza, promises to put you in a coma. In a country whose pollution threatens early lung cancer and taxi drivers threaten paralysis, a food-induced coma is probably not on high the list of "must-dos".

Bathroom Etiquette
The traditionally natural process of "going potty" usually needs little instruction, but the bathrooms in China apparently come with a set of instructions. In our first hotel in Beijing, a couple of the rooms had the following sign over their toilets, "Beware of Landslides". Before you wonder how the hotel knew we would get the Beijing Belly (thanks to my culinary misadventures), it refers to the water that leaks out from the showers. Not only do the showers not work occasionally, but the plumbing is sometimes sub-par. In one restaurant, the owners had posted a sign, in English, explicitly telling the user to not do Number 2 in the restroom.


Helpful Instructions and Warnings
All in all, the Chinese know that there are many English speakers in their country and they are trying to be helpful by including warnings and instructions. But, sometimes those helpful hints are also lost in translation. While visiting the Ming Tombs, I came across a sign that read "Thunder Storm Weather. Do Not Use Mobile Phone". I could only imagine how they realized that this was necessary to warn foreigners about potential cellular electrocution in the middle of the forest.

Another sign said, "The non-staff member pleases not an operation! Thanks." Pooling together, our study abroad group thinks it refers to someone who is not an employee changing the television or something, but the jury is still out. But, it was the next sign that needed a photo to fully understand its intricacies. Hung above a construction site, we think it asks for patience and cooperation in the construction process, but again, its translation is lost.


In recent years and especially in anticipation of the Olympics, China has attempted to qualm a few "bad habits" of its populace, including smoking. While visiting Lao Long Tou, or Large Dragon Head, every corner and possible blank wall held signs proclaiming, "You are actually polluting yourself when you are polluting," "Be a spreader of civility; be a protector of morality" and "Abandon bad habits and embrace civilization." I am not a smoker, nor do I condone smoking for its nasty effects on the body, but I would see these signs causing a stir in the United States. And what an ironic place to position these signs but at a site named after a fire-breathing creature. The final sign we found at the Jiaoshun section of the Great Wall in Qinhuangdao. The city is known for its greenery and roses, a nice transition from Xi An and Beijing. In protection of this status, there were signs placed in front of large grass areas and flowers saying, "Flowers are smiling and grass is sleeping, don't disturb them." The translation is understandable and just like the other signs, it simply made us smile.

The Great Wal(l)-Mart All of us on the trip have been a bit homesick here and there during our travels. However, despite the language barriers and some cultural differences, Beijing looks like a bit like home. Every corner houses a KFC, Starbuck's, McDonald's, and Pizza Hut (called Big Pizza in China). I had Starbuck's at the Great Wall, KFC after class one day (not the same as the United States) and McDonald's twice when I really felt homesick and underfed. But my favorite has been Wal-Mart. At four stories high, the Beijing Wal-Mart located next to the subway station is truly a wonder across the world. With name-brand knock-offs, and floors devoted to beauty supplies, baby gear, electronics and unrecognizable food, the non-air conditioned Wal-Mart made a stark contrast to the outside vendors and peddlers. Although it was quite a walk for our group from Beihang University, it felt a little like home when we passed it on our way to the subway station.
Famous in this Country I can't say I have ever wondered what it is like to be David Hasselhoff in Germany, but I have thought of what it might be like if I was famous. Everyone wants to take your picture as you walk down the red carpet at a movie premier or rock out at a concert, followed by groupies. Well, change the red carpet to the Great Wall and substitute the concert for a Chinese karaoke bar. Welcome to our three-week fiasco everywhere we have traveled. Although Beijing is the capital and therefore attracts many foreign tourists, Xi An and especially Qinhuangdao do not normally have any foreigners, much less a group of sixteen very diverse college students.


Our group, comprised of three tall blondes, two Hispanics and a couple brunettes, have been chased after and endured multiple spontaneous photo sessions with ancient relics in the background and new friends in the foreground. It takes us hours to get through a room or to get down a mountain, stopping every few moments for photo sessions with people we don't know, but who want to get to know us candidly. Old and young all want to ask personal questions, like "Where are you from?" and "How old are you?" I have gotten very good at saying "Wo shì mei guó rèn" and "Wo shì èr si yi", but by the time I spit out those phrases, it is back to saying "Qíe zi" for the camera.


As a big group, we understand the hassles of taking photos. However, the crowds that gather do not understand this delicate dance. The groups - scratch that, swarms of followers all want to take individual photos with you even though their group contains thirty people. Then, like homesick college students to a McDonald's, another group of thirty flocks just in time to take photos with the foreigner who has just become a smiling cardboard cutout. Then again, how could I document my trip better than through a 1,000 pictures worth a thousand-words. The first time the impromptu flashbulbs blinded us, I was at the Summer Palace in Beijing with our lone Icelander, Gutti, who stands 6'3 with bright blonde hair and blue eyes. The 4'11 Chinese women flocked to him, shoving in true Chinese form to better their position in line. With beaming smiles and peace signs, they hugged onto his legs and bumped their heads on his hips.


However, the most stunning backdrops and sporadic photo sessions occurred on our hike up Mount Hua-Shan, one of China's most dangerous mountain ranges. Making due with my bad knees, empty stomach and sea-level lungs, I trudged up the mountain, sweat rolling down my brow as I attempted to make it past the first 100 feet. As I stopped to rest and video my first entry, I noticed a giggle gaggle of middle-aged women. Somehow their makeup was still pristine and through broken Chinese and translation help from a random gentleman, we started our daily photo session. Along the way, Nikki and I picked up a groupie following of seven Chinese businessmen, climbing the mountain on casual Friday in their Sunday best. During our four hour trek to the top, I continuously stopped to catch my breath that I had left at the bottom of the 7087 foot tall mountain. Viewing their opportunity for yet another photo, the businessmen propped up my drooping head and sat down for photos. They grabbed Nikki and another student, Brett, to add flavor to the Chinese-American dish. Reaching the third highest peak on our way to the top, Nikki and I rested, took in the view and munched on indecipherable Chinese snacks. Out of nowhere, the businessmen plopped down next to us and offered baked goods. Nikki joked that it was payment for all the photos we had taken. Ignoring our mother's warning against taking food from strangers, we enjoyed the snack and thought about the interesting and entertaining trek up the mountain.


Next Stop: Qinhuangdao
While walking with my language partner, I tripped on the uneven cobblestone. He laughed at me while I tried to explain that the sidewalks in the United States are usually evenly paved. Again he laughed and told me that "Americans are spoiled." Living in hotels sub par to even Motel 6, eating food that is sitting next to week old garbage, breathing air that Olympians don't want to breathe and dodging traffic that uses stoplights as decoration has made us shiver a few times. But, if we bring nothing back from China (not possible with my spending habits or vaccinations), we have had taken in so many sights that would never been found in a travel guide. Well, except for this one.

Ni Hao! What Now?

Location: BEIJING, CHINA


College graduation is a once-in-a-lifetime experience, no matter what level degree is being accomplished. It is what every senior pines for at the end of four (or five) years and in May, I had the graduation green light. My name was printed in the graduation program. The cap and gown had been purchased and my friends and family were in the crowd. But, I was also sitting in the crowd watching my fellow Class of 2008 classmates walk across the stage and receive their diplomas. However, sitting in the crowd didn’t make me bitter because I had delayed my graduation for another once in a lifetime experience.


When my sorority sister, Nikki, asked me what I was doing summer of 2008, I replied, “Enjoying the beach and relishing in my graduatory status.” However, she had a different idea. Instead, she suggested studying abroad. The program had so many countries to pick from so I told her just to pick a unique place. Both of us are regulars of Europe, so she suggested Japan or China as alternatives. Without hesitation, I picked the host of the 2008 Summer Olympics, Beijing China.


CHINA. This communist state is populated with 1,330,044,605 people who speak a dozen plus languages with a land mass of 9,596,960 sq. km. and so many stereotypes. Known for many years as “Red China,” the country is also known for their intricate architecture, the Great Wall, panda bears, cheap exports and, most recently the Olympics and the Sichuan earthquake. The history and sites are intensely overwhelming, so a professor of mine advised me to “be prepared to be unprepared.” I realized what an understatement that was when I arrived with eight of my classmates at Beijing International Airport after 18 hours of travel. Through my seatmate’s 2 x 1 airplane window, I got snapshots of Beijing through heavy clouds of smog. It looked like every other sprawling Midwest city, complete with fields and industrial architecture. That was until we landed.


Beijing, a sprawling metropolis, resembles any U.S. Chinatown. The people speak Chinese. The signs are in Chinese. The taxi drivers only speak Chinese. But, this isn’t America and I only knew how to say “Hi” and “What is your name.” After a week, I have mastered a few more phrases, learned to use the public transportation, seen one of the Wonders of the World, and visited many other famous sites. However, the most challenging part thus far has been eating. I nearly have a panic attack when someone suggests getting dinner. In fact, I would rather listen to my stomach rumble than have to explain to the waitress that I do not want anything spicy or still moving. I have had many culinary disasters, misunderstandings and eaten some unconventional food. So for my first entry, I decided to introduce the reader to China through the sense of taste. I set out for China wanting to try the bizarre foods and brag that I could keep them down unlike contestants on Fear Factor. But, things are always easier from the Laz-Y-Boy.


Fork Fiasco
After a disastrous introduction to Chinese food our first night, which left me on the bathroom floor at 3 a.m., Nikki and I decided to venture off to another Chinese restaurant that looked more sanitary. The first restaurant only had the menu in Chinese characters so we looked for a sit down restaurant with a picture menu. Ironically, we found a restaurant located next to the previous culinary disaster spot.


We were seated by the hostess, who proceeded to hover over our table, eyeing our food decisions. Nikki chose a dish which resembled chicken and vegetables. Somehow, through sign language and pointing to words in our handy travel guide, the waitress told us we had a side dish option. I picked rice. She pointed to four listings under the rice, all with different prices and different Chinese characters. I picked the cheapest, but she kept muttering something in Chinese. Finally, frustrated and hungry, I pointed to the dumplings which had nothing written underneath them. That was sufficient and they brought out the meal.




Neither Nikki nor I had really used chopsticks in America sans a few times at a sushi bar. Eating the very spicy mystery meat and toxically spicy vegetables proved difficult. While Nikki and I laughed it off, our very patient waitress brought over two forks. We all giggled and exchanged laughter, only to be joined by the remainder of the 10 + occupied restaurant. Ever get that feeling that everyone is talking about you. Yeah, welcome to China!


These Feet are Only Meant for Walking Our next culinary escapade occurred after a class field trip to the Ming Tombs and the Great Wall. Our group stopped at a hole-in-the-wall restaurant after the tour and my culinary ambitions kicked in. I hadn’t really fulfilled my desire to eat a “weird” food, so I asked the professor to help me pick out a selection. The menu, luckily in English, had a wide array of chicken’s feet, cow tripe, tongue and various other traditional offal. I settled on the chicken feet based on my professor’s suggestion.


The feet arrived intact with nails, claws and bones still attached. Unsure where to begin, the waitress told me to chew on the feet. “Chew on the feet,” I said, starting to regret my decision. One bite and I knew this poor bird had died in vain. The foot, cooked in a hot pepper sauce, was clammy, off-white and difficult to pry off the bone. You had to use your molars to pull off the little bit of meat, so it continuously threatened to claw its way back from my throat to my mouth. After seeing my reaction, my classmates also tried, but they had similar reactions. I hoped karma would forgive me for my transgressions against the bird, for it was not going to be eaten.


Corner Cuisine Before I left, a friend gave me advice about eating at a street vendor. “Eat at the one with the most people in line,” she said. But, what do you do if you and your classmates make the entire line? Every night since our arrival, the guys have been frequenting a local vendor located right outside of the Beihang University gates. Every night, the vendor, with a large smile and dimpled grin, displays his eats on a makeshift bicycle/trailer/display case. He wasn’t quite set up yet when we arrived at 8 p.m., so we grabbed a few drinks at the local newspaper stand and settled in next to his hibachi grill.


Soon after we sat, five or six people began taking the meats from the display case and placing them on the grill. Most of the meats were unrecognizable and the smell of stale fish filled the smoggy Chinese air. The boys had their favorites ranging from the recognizable lamb and chicken patties to the seemingly inedible chicken heart and squid tentacles. Under peer pressure, I ate chicken heart, squid tentacles, egg patties and sweet buns. The chicken heart was slightly squishy, but well cooked. The squid tasted like fresher calamari than its U.S. counterparts. The egg patties were a mix of egg, minced onions and chives and a bread crumb outer shell. They were very spicy, but closely related to hash browns and scrambled eggs.


As I tried each concoction, I made sure to keep a straight face even if I didn’t like selected pieces. After all, this vendor spent time and plenty of effort to catch and prepare the meats and he was proud of his final product. I didn’t want to cause him concern or upset by rejecting his meal. However, after paying 1-3 yuan (roughly 50 cents) for each of my six kebabs, I wondered what profit he actually made. In China you can’t tip, but the group all wished we could show how appreciative we were of his work.


Mao’s Munchies
The following day, the same group went to visit Tiananmen Square, site of the infamous 1989 massacre. Vendors crowded the square hocking Mao Zedong paraphernalia, cheap watches, Chinese flags and Mao’s infamous Little Red Book. Within the 100 acre plaza that had seen two massacres and numerous famous speeches, we visited the Monument to the People’s Heroes, the Forbidden City and Premier Mao Zedong’s body. Mao, the creator of the People’s Republic of China, has been lying in state since 1976 and continues to glow the color of Tang. Security was tighter to get in to see him than it was to get into the country. After enticing my appetite with talk of massacres, propaganda, and the Great Helmsman, we headed into downtown Beijing for street vendor food.


After walking past McDonald’s and a Westernized shopping mall, we stumbled upon an alleyway crammed with street vendors. Most were selling caramelized fruits, lamb and pork skewers and Coca-Cola. But, one vendor caught my eye. Originally, I had walked past, eyeing a vendor selling donut-like pastries. But, upon doing a double take, I noticed this aforementioned vendor’s food was still moving. There in the storefront were live scorpions, grasshoppers, cicadas and starfish pushed onto wooden sticks. The line was long so I decided to jump in for my turn. I chose the scorpions that were not moving based on the broken English advice of a local bystander. I watched the moving scorpions as they were dipped into the frying pan and handed quickly to me. Still steaming, I took a breath and crunched down. Much to my surprise, the scorpions tasted good. Ironically, it tasted like over-fried chicken.


However, my next two dishes were not so fortunate. I am an avid viewer of No Reservations: Anthony Bourdain and I used clips from the China show to plan my culinary adventures. Anthony had tried cow’s stomach while in China and raved about the texture and taste, even praising the chef for his attention to cooking by keeping it basic and lightly seasoned. So, while in Beijing, I did as Anthony did and ordered a heaping plate of white and black-grey cow’s tummy. My stomach and the unlucky cow’s stomach were both quickly in my mouth, attempting another jail break. I held it in, but not without the disgust of my fellow classmates sitting directly in the line of fire. I guess I just can’t stomach stomach.


I thought my misadventures were over until another classmate decided to purchase the starfish. Being from Florida, I have never had the desire to eat such a cute specimen. After much peer pressure again, I bit down on the tough skin. Much to my dismay, it tasted like I was eating a piece of fried sand. I figured my digestive tract needed a break, so I settled for a caramelized crab apple and went shopping.


Memorial Meal After a half a bottle of Tums and a few nights of digestive distress, my other sorority sister, Emily, along with Nikki and I, decided to find the local Beihang Café that served American-style food. We all craved different things like pancakes, lettuce, mayonnaise and pizza and the café served them all, though not together obviously. While eating, a Chinese man approached us. He was out of breath and we just thought maybe he worked at the café. He said, “I have important information for you…At a 14:28 we are going have a memorial for earthquake victims.” He rushed us from our meal, as everyone in the three story café crowded around the big screen television. Although we couldn’t understand the announcer, the images of people being pulled out of buildings, of workers hauling material and of people crying spoke our language. The screen went black and displayed white Chinese characters. Everyone got quiet as the air sirens began to wail. After a minute, car horns joined in and a minute following that, boat horns completed the ceremony. The only sounds sans those from the television were sniffles and the occasional sigh. The three minute ceremony concluded and those crying quickly hid their faces and bolted for the door. The gentleman thanked us for our cooperation and disappeared with the rest of the patrons. We paid our bill and left in near silence.


On the walk home, we realized what had just occurred and we were thankful that we were a part of this country’s mourning. Though the gentleman thanked us, we are human beings and feel their pain. Although our recent countries' disasters differed, one intentional and one natural, we still can understand the pain of losing fellow countrymen.


With 50,000 dead and expected to climb, we leave Beijing next week for Xi An, a city located close to the Chinese Ground Zero. The distance between the two is like the distance between San Francisco and Los Angeles. A Chinese student studying English was paired up with me to practice conversational Chinese and English. He is from Sichuan, the province affected most, and said he has yet to hear if anyone he knows has perished. As we walked by the television, he just shook his head and said, “You are lucky you don’t have that in America”. Although that is not completely accurate, we are lucky. China is great, but it is hard to visit a country and know what you leave behind. So, enjoy those hamburgers and fries I am missing so much and I will fill you in when we get to Xi An.