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I've always loved Chinese food, but I never dreamed it could be like this. Yes, sometimes dog meat is on the menu. And yes, there's often a bewildering array of odd-smelling condiments on the table. But, my oh my, what gastronomic pleasures there are here!
Tonight in Xi'an for dinner I had a local specialty, yanrou paomo. They bring a bowl with two rounds of a doughy flat bread you break into small pieces. Then they take the breadcrumbs away, and bring them back drenched in noodles and a rich lamb broth. Salty, chewy, almost buttery tasting. Oh. Heavenly. The price? Under $3 for a huge bowl of this wonderful soup.
In Haerbin I tried "tomato on a stick": small crab apples skewered, then dipped in a sugar syrup. The cold temperatures freeze the small, ripe apples and the effect is like eating fruity ice cream with a thin, hard shell of sugar. Tart and sweet, creamy and crunchy. Like nothing I've ever tasted before.
Earlier today, in the Muslim Quarter, we stopped in for dumplings. A big, round bamboo tray comes out with the freshest steamed dumplings I've ever had. Stuffings of chicken, seafood and pork are tenderly wrapped in little purses of fresh dough, and then you dip them in a spicy sauce.
You know that saying about Chinese food, that in an hour you'll be hungry for more? I think it's because there's just so much to try. Why wait for the next mealtime?! Gotta go. I smell fresh noodles somewhere.
Greetings from the frosty north!
I'm here in Haerbin, China, in the neartheast near the Russian border, visiting the annual ice and snow sculpture extravaganza. Thousands of blocks of ice are cut out of the frozen river, and stacked and carved into various sculptures, then lit from within and placed in a carnival-like setting. It's Burning Man meets Disneyland with really bad speakers. Loud Chinese pop music blares and crackles out of loud speakers, while festival goers ice skate, ride ice bikes, climb ice walls, and slide down ice chutes on pillows. With the evening temperatures hovering around -20C/-5F, you need to stay active to keep from getting frostbite. I'm so very happy I bought those hand and foot warmers from REI.
Yesterday we visited a spot along the river where Mongolian horsemen offer rides across the ice. There's also a swimming pool, carved into the ice, for any brave souls wanting to test their mettle. One victorious woman was parading around on a horse, in her bathing suit, giving a victory sign after her victory lap in the pool. Brrrr! These people are HEARTY.
The other highlight of yesterday was the beautiful Temple of Bliss. A series of shrines with large, golden Buddhas housed in traditional Chinese buildings with curved tile rooves and red, tapered pillars. Swags of beautiful, yellow, embroidered silk hang from doorways, and carts with smokey insense for offerings stand steaming in the cold courtyards. After traffic, crowds, and noise in this big, industrial city, it was a nice change of pace to be in such a peaceful, beautiful and serene place.
Today I fly to Xi'an, which is hopefully not one of the cities affected by the big storm in the eastern central part of the country. After that I'm looking forward to spending more time in Beijing, and seeing what hidden gems lie beneath the gray exterior. My first full day in China was spent at a brunch hosted by Australians for Australia Day, followed by a session at an Irish Pub with American and Canadian musicians. I was also able to connect with a Chinese friend of a friend, and treated to a wonderful, authentic Chinese meal to remind me where I was. Of course, there was that heavenly hour-long foot massage I was treated to the evening before after traveling for 16+ hours.
An interesting technology note: I was not able to access this blog from Beijing, but got through at the hotel here in Haerbin. I'm not sure I completely understand China's Internet policies, but I may not be able to post again until I reach Bangkok.
I leave for China in a week and a half. Being the good Virgo that I am, I've got lots of lists going. The longest one lists the tech toys I want to take: my Zoom H4 digital recorder, my new omnidirectional microphone, my digital SLR camera, extra memory cards, batteries and battery recharger, converter plug, and the iPod so I can store photos and audio files. Some women obsess over how many pairs of shoes to pack; I'm obsessing over how much gear to take.
I blame it on the weekly radio show, This American Life. I'm completely addicted to this program. I eagerly await the weekly podcast, and have listened to some of them several times. I find these stories about real people and real circumstances captivating, and a refreshing change from the tidal wave of celebrity "news" that I seem to be exposed to, whether I want to or not.
From time to time, I think about the leaf player I'd heard at Ankhor Wat in Cambodia in 2004, and how utterly amazing his music was. He played a soaring melody, like an Indian raga, with precise pitch and intonation. I was shocked to turn the corner and see this man, holding a leaf between his hands, blowing across it to create those amazing sounds.
So, I have this crazy idea: I'm going to Thailand with a friend anyway, why not go back to Cambodia to interview and record the leaf player, and maybe some other musicians, and create my own audio essay? I've never done anything like this before, but I think the journalist in me wants a shot at it.
As one of my art professors in college said, "It's the process, not the product." So regardless of the outcome, audio essay or no audio essay, I'm enjoying the sense of adventure and of learning something new by doing.
I'm off to see a man about a leaf.
After two years of wondering what "form" the World Music Café should take, here it is -- in all its cyberspace glory. No utility bills, no coffee grounds to sweep up, and it's free to all who want to come on in.
I'll be writing about music and culture, and the role of music in our lives. I welcome comments, questions, suggestions, ideas, and any improvised riffs you'd like to play. It doesn't matter if you play cello, banjo, secretly love country western, or sing only in the shower. The World Music Café is open to everyone, and acknowledges the musician in us all.
Here we go: uh one, uh two, uh one, two, three, four . . .
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