Chinese Cuisine

After the first day, I had resigned myself to a diet of boiled rice and green tea for the next three weeks. In an attempt to cushion the culture shock on the girls, we stupidly tried to eat Western food, with at best mediocre results. But after our first dinner it was clear that it would be impossible to continue with these highly improbable dishes that were vaguely European and distinctly bad news for our livers. There was nothing for it but to surrender to Chinese cuisine. After two days, we are all converted. Completely different to what is on offer in Europe, here it's much healthier, without that fast-food taste of MSG. Below you can find a picture of my favourite breakfast these days: spring rolls, baozi (little balls of steamed rice filled with fruit compote), fritters and custard pie.

My adaptation to this new culture has gone one step further. Despite the many kilos of medicine that I brought, I needed a pharmacy. Just finding one was an adventure: we had to head for Qianmen (a type of Chinatown, if that isn't a contradiction in terms!), decidedly outside the standard tourist sites, where for the first time we had confirmation of the reported fact that the Chinese continuously hawk and spit on the ground. This behaviour has been recently banned, in preparation for the Olympics, so as not to horrify Westerners. The ban has worked in the tourist areas where fines are enforced, but away from them, people fall back into their old habits. The pharmacy was part of a large department store that seemed out of Stalin's Russia, with two shop-assistants who looked like Red Cross nurses from the Great War. I explained my problem to the one who seemed to have a few words of English, and she asked me:
"Do you want Chinese or Western Medicine?"
At first I looked at her as if she were joking, but then the spirit of adventure (or desperation) got the better of me: "I don't care - as long as it works". She wrote out a pair of characters on a slip of paper, and sent me to another counter where they handed me a box of tablets identical to what we might expect to find at home, but entirely in Chinese. When I realised that I had no way of figuring out what exactly it was that I was about in ingest, I returned to my Red Cross Nurse of the Great War and asked her what was in the tablets: "Antibiotic? Anti-inflammatory?"
She looked at me, confused, without reply.
"Herbs?" I suggested.
"Yes. Chinese herbs."
That was enough for me. In that moment I would have tried cyanide, if that's what they had given me". Three days later, the problem is resolved. Whatever it was, it worked.



After the Great Wall, we visited the Temple of Heaven and the Summer Palace. Beautiful places, wonderful architecture, but as ever it was the people who fascinated me. The park around the Temple of Heaven, for example, was full of people practicing Tai Chi, taking waltz lessons, some were singing in groups, others simply playing cards - all of them making the most of the sunshine, despite the cold.

Last night we met Beiyan who brought us to a restaurant to eat authentic Peking Duck, roasted and caramelized, sliced into small pieces and placed into rice pancakes with plum sauce and vegetables. The only one who didn't like it was Sara who, under the influence of jetlag, fell asleep with her head on the table before beginning to eat.