Phichit's Pad Thai

I'll spare you the agony of explaining every single moment that happened the week I spent in Phichit, Thailand, but I'm showing no mercy when it comes to the Pad Thai. You've been warned. 

The girls and I bid goodbye to the island of Koh Chang (aka, dreamy paradise land) and boarded the bus to Bangkok which would drive through the night and drop us all off where my sister had called home for the past 4 month; the itty bitty town of Phichit. It didn't look like much around 3 AM but the sunrise quickly brought me to my senses. Consensus? It's adorable. Day one was spent recuperating from my travels while the girls taught - but of course I bolted upstairs to see a classroom of cuties during their "milk bread" the second I got the text. Um...imagine dozens of little Thai kids just hanging out, drinking cartons of milk. Dy....ing. It was so adorable. After class was over, it was really time to crack down and see the highlight reel of Phichit. The girls would all be leaving for America at the end of the week and needed to hit their favorite spots just one more time and we had a lot of cram in. I was only so happy to agree. 

So that's what happened that week. I wandered around the grassy grounds of the school, peeking into banana laden wheelbarrows while the girls taught, then we would snag the rusty bikes parked under the trees and wave at all the locals as we rode into town, determined to eat as much food as possible. We stopped at roadside stands and slurped up "yellow noodles", finishing them off with scoops of ice cream before shopping for dozens and dozens of socks (my favorite pair I purchased is adorned with dragonfruits. I adore dragonfruits). There were several 7-11 runs made (purchasing 5 Baht candies, these ice cream cones I was infatuated with in China and to snag bottles of chocolate milk and containers of the microwaveable lava cake. Sevey is life). Restaurants serving plates of cashew chicken and lemon chicken encircled by fried kale were devoured. We peeked into shops and stalls, searched through flea markets and wandered our way through vendors selling piles of old sweat shirts, mingled with stalls laden with fried bananas, next to creaking tables piled high with mysterious to me soups sold in bags. I love it here. 

The bike ride into town was both cute and a bit rough in the heat, though I'm told December is the nicest month to visit Thailand - we whizzed past the little roundabout, chatting about life in Thailand while pointing out favorite haunts while locals shouted out "hellos". Just cute, cute, cute. The real obsession though for me was the cocoa and the Pad Thai. And the roti. And just all the food in Thailand, but I digress. I'd heard about the magic of cocoa from Laura for months and was just itching to get my hands on a bag of the stuff. I drank my weight of that stuff in a very short amount of time. Embarrassing? Nope. I even made the mistake/excellent life choice to start the day off with both a bag of cocoa AND a bag of Thai tea. It must have amounted to about a full can and a half worth of sweetened condensed milk and I downed both.  Ah...and I digress again  Onto cocoa: It's rich - a velvety chocolate that's bitter and biting, mellowed out by the silky and sweet condensed milk that is stacked in pyramids at every reputable establishment. There's a splash of evaporated milk too that adds a creaminess, all poured over ice. It's yummmm. 

And to make things even better, the best cocoa place is right across the street from *the best* Pad Thai in Thailand. I didn't even need to take a bite before falling in love. Someday I'll speak as fondly about a person than I do about this Pad Thai. Possibly.

 It's the classic Asian situation where rickety plastic chairs surround rickety plastic tables and you walk in, and the cute lady at the wok just smiles and nods before cracking eggs expertly into the fired steel rim. Rice noodles are tossed in along with a range of other ingredients, all quickly stirred together into a steaming mass and divided up onto plates. Top liberally with crunchy and fresh bean sprouts, douse in a squeeze of lime and sprinkle with crushed peanuts. Unreal. Wash it down with a chilled Thai Tea and be sad that nothing else you could ever purchase or make will be as good as the Pad Thai here. Needless to say, we went many times before hitting up the 7-11 on the way home again, before stopping off to get roti. 

Trust me, there was more things going on besides eating...but not much.  The girls and I would stay up late in the evenings, talking and laughing and attempting to put off the inevitable task of packing. Oh and the kidsssssssss. I loved them oh so much after only one week and watching the teachers say goodbye only brought memories of the sob-fest which happened after a semester in China.  But who wants to read about that? (If you do, check out this post and get tissues) but we are all here to hear about more food. So onto the roti. Again, a favorite I'd been hearing about and I wasn't shy about ordering. Round 1 and I got 4 of these beauties and ate myself sick. It's a thin dough, slapped and rounded out till paper thin before sizzling in a liberal pool of bubbling fat on a flattop — the start of something good. The edges get folded in, crisping up in the fat before it is flipped and drizzled liberally with sweetened and condensed milk. Fold up in a wrapper that starts to bleed a lovely oil sheen before you can even get your hands on it, then take a bite. It's crunchy, sweet, toasty warm and leaves a lip-gloss shine behind and I obviously was too infatuated to take  a proper picture of it. Oh well. 

It's a good thing there was a lot of biking involved this week, because there sure was a lot of eating. 

I Ate Tiong Bahru

I got an early start this Friday in an attempt to beat the Singaporean heat. The oppressive sauna like atmosphere was pressing down on me despite the early hour. Even at 8 AM, the thick air between the high rises felt like the world had just turned off a steaming shower but you can’t let that (or anything) stop you from getting a stellar breakfast. The 20 minutes on the metro spat me out in a glitzy mall (oh Singapore, how you love your malls) before I wandered down the quieter white washed apartments to Tiong Bahru; a trendy breakfasting districted peppered with art galleries and bookstores. If that isn’t the most perfect way to spend your morning, I don’t know what is. The street was just waking up, with people going to and fro grabbing coffee and groceries with friends before meandering to their next location.  My first stop was the Tiong Bahru food centre. Any location titled “food centre” has got to be promising. Like a layered cake, this place is well worth your time and attention. The bottom tier is lined with stalls chalk full of anything you could need on your grocery list. Eggs varying from pale brown to a deep and smoky black bookended stalls bursting with spiny durian and piles of oranges. Purple Japanese sweet potatoes poked out underneath bags of apples and bean sprouts. People were milling about, trying to press on the mangoes without the vendor looking to find the perfect little specimen. There’s also a meat counter; haggles and inquiries about price are punctuated with sharp *smacks* as meat cleavers cut down, separating scales and joints. That area smells less lovely, and isn’t as pretty as admiring radishes. 

In between the red Chinese lettering you can just make out "king of kings"... Durian shares a title with a pretty important figure, no? 

But the middle tier is where you want to spend most of your time. A dizzying ring of food vendors are all selling steaming bowls of laska, curries, roti, chicken and rice, carrot cake (which is nothing like the American version) and other classic dishes.  A cute little couple took my order of chilled sugar cane juice and kaya toast; I”m quickly loving the thick coconut custard spread on toasted bread…with substantial pats of butter sandwiched between the two slices. It’s the breakfast of champions, I’m telling you…though I wished I had gone with the barley-bitter iced Milo rather than the sugarcane; paired with toast, it was a sweet breakfast. 

Plural. Cats. I was so happy here. 

Tiong Bahru was just waking up as I made my way to the book stores where I found nirvana (after admiring the murals painted on the whitewashed store fronts of course). Books Actually is the most perfect bookstore I’ve ever set foot in. I should have known it was paradise; not only were the glass doors adorned with succulents, vintage maps of Singapore and a sign that said “please do not let our cats out”, a stenciled vending machine was parked outside giving patrons a chance to selected a mystery book. I never knew I needed a mystery book vending machine in my life until that exact moment. Inside, a bell tinkled gently as a warm welcome to perfection; books lined the floor to ceiling, stacked purposefully and organized in a way that encouraged meandering. You could admire the stacks on the shelves, or find your way over to the little note that sort of separated genre before getting distracted by the island of books that were stacked cover to cover…the room behind opened up into a space that claustrophobically shelved with second hand books, vintage tins and glass bottles and other quirky gifts. Oh, and cats. I didn’t dare get into trouble by pulling out my wallet; upon first impression I was tempted to buy it all. I’ll be back when I can muster some self restraint. I left feeling inspired to read more poetry, collect more postcards, shoot photos purely in black and white, and explore less traveled avenues.

Shout out to Hannah Wing; this place has your name written all over it 

Brunch hours had officially disappeared, leaving me guilt free to hop over to explore Chinatown. I had hoped it would be a mini version of the gems of China but alas, what Chinatown is exactly like China?  You just have to go see the real thing. While I didn’t stumble upon the old women I would  regularly buy cherries from in Nanjing or the boy who ran the front counter of my favorite noodle house, I did find some glimpses of China within the stalls. A lunch of tomato and eggs (an old favorite) gave me the energy to poke around the enormous warehouse like structure crammed full of everything you could want; clothes, tailors, old CD's, cooking supplies, incense, lanterns and other *necessities*. It's a dizzying collection and I could only wander for so long before setting my sites on seeing some of the cool and fancy hotels and bars and restaurants that site slightly overlooking the main drag of Chinatown. Plus, the lanterns that line the street there are so much prettier from higher up. Brightly painted alleyways created the backdrop to fancy gelato stores and expensive hair salons and some really cool street murals. I took the long way around and saw the Sri Marimman Temple and the Jamae Mosque; both of which I'll go inside of some other day. Today was for eating and there was no room to delay. 

I did quite a bit of walking to get there and had to grab a snack. Luckily in this country you are never too far away from a hawker center or food court. Maxwell's Food Center is one I'll be visiting again: for just a few cents you can get a thick pancake folded over a a sugary sweet crush of peanuts to make the most divine sort of snack. Top that off with some lychee juice (ice cold and served with a thick straw and a spoon so you can fish out the whole pitted fruit pieces at the bottom between sips of the sweet nectar) and buttery roti and you are in heaven. Top that off with a mango popsicle and you are ready to call it a day; only because you can't possibly snack any more or walk any further. I missed the downpour of rain just minutes after getting into the apartment and spent the rest of what remained of that day off my feet and wishing I had taken a bag of those pancake-peanut sandwiches home with me. While there are other places yet to see in Singapore, I do think I'll go back to sample the few foods I missed while munching on my day in the neighborhood of Tiong Bahru and Chinatown. 

Me and lucky cat, hanging out in Chinatown

Singapore’s Little India

Apparently, my *next* adventure until grown up life (you know, the one with car payments and succulent filled windows?) is Singapore. While living in China, I met a lovely family with 2 kids at the Nanjing LDS branch who need someone who could pick up and move their  life abroad without interrupting school or a career and hang out at their high rise for a few months…that person is me! And I couldn’t be more thrilled to be in Asia, though I did not miss the (long) flight — didn’t I just do this? The minute I landed in the Guangzhou, China airport, I’d been traveling some 20 plus hours but was just tickled to see those little orange juice squeezer vending machines. Oh China, how I’ve missed you. A short layover, then it was off to admire a jewel tone ocean and Malaysian coast out of my 3rd airplane window seat in the past 30 hours. I love you Asia, but you’re a beast to get to.

I’ve been in Singapore a week now, and have gotten pretty settled in. I adore the view from floor 17; you can just see the corner of 3 different swimming pools in between the geometric slats created by the towering apartments that dot the skyline. Singapore is a far cry from the adventures in China - the city’s shrouded in dense greenery pocketed by fancy hotels, high rise apartments and very ritzy shopping malls…at least, that’s the view from Orchard Lane (kitty corner to where I’m living). I’m all unpacked and got into the groove of working, taking afternoon breaks sipping Milo (South East Asia’s obsession - it’s basically a slightly more bitter, barley tasting chocolate milk. I love it.) while visiting the pool or going out with the kids until mom goes to work and I’ve got 3-4 hours to learn all I can about Pokemon while whipping up dinner. J., age 6, looooooooooves Pokemon.

While I rather like my weekday schedule, I’ve been itching to go out and do some exploring — and ever since I saw the “Little India” metro stop on my MRT app, I knew it would be adventure number one. I don’t nanny on Fridays, leaving me to get up early, snag a banana and Milo breakfast on my way out and take the 15 minute walk to ION, the ultra fancy shopping mall to catch the Metro. I say ultra fancy because this mall is bursting with stores like Tiffany’s, Louis Vuitton, Christian Louboutin, Dolce & Gabanna and others I can only dream of buying knock offs from. Time in China made me a metro pro, the whole transferring/line/“passengers please alight on the left” slogan is pretty familiar, as were the streets of Little India. 

I stepped off the metro about an hour before the stands had really opened, but even that early, the oppressively humid air was thick with spices. Vendors were just opening up, but I imagine coriander and pepper corns were being toasted for the day’s curries and masalas, because the swirl of spice hits your nose while walking down the quiet and vibrantly painted avenues. It’s quite the combination paired with the flowery scent from the bright orange and yellow floral garlands sold near the temples. 

Not that there was time to kill, but I spent an easy 2 hours wandering the expansive “everything” store that is Mustafas. Imagine 6 floors of everything….everything!; luggage, shoes, reams of fabric, electronics, fresh fish on ice, stacked canned drinks with text in Hindi and Chinese and English and anything else you can think of. I spent my time poking around the floor-to-ceiling shelves, searching the aisles for…nothing, but isn’t that the fun of it? I’ve got plans to come back. Several times. 

After spending most of my time in the grocery section of Mustafas, it’s only natural I stumble across another grocery store, — though this I suppose would be classified more as a “wet market”. Stationed in some type of open warehouse, whole chickens (and other proteins with parents) hacked up on wooden blocks created the outer ring, while piles of fresh vegetables and fruits created the next layer of color. People were milling about, discussing prices in an assortment of languages while riffling through piles of prawns and pomegranates. Though fascinating to watch, the middle ring is the reason I’ll be coming back. It was as hot as a sauna, but the most interesting little food court I’ve seen — tiny stalls of primarily Indian (but a few favorite Chinese meals were present too) created a maze  advertising quite the lunch selection. Still being early, I opted for a thick mango nectar…but will go back for lunch (and the lychee tea). It's nice to know I can revisit my favorites in India by hopping over a couple metro stops, at least for the next few months. 

Lunching in the Muslim Quarter.

If you are a fan of reading my blog (I think I am the only one who falls in that category), you’ve read posts and posts about various markets and food streets. I’m not sure “farmer’s markets” counts as a hobby, but if it does, add it to my list. That being said, when I go abroad one of the first criteria for experiencing a new city is to explore their food streets. Xi’an made that easy; their Muslim Quarter is fabulous. I was counting down the days to see the Terracotta Warriors, but I was also ticking down the hours until dinner. I had hopes the area would be reminiscent of the Muslim Quarter housed in the Old City of Jerusalem, but hopes of that sort of similarity were pleasantly dashed upon arrival. The streets are lined with shops selling characteristic souvenirs, while huge rounds of a yellow “cake” glistened with persimmons are artfully carved into geometric triangles next to entire carcasses being butchered into kabobs. It’s a lot to take in. 

It looks like cake, but it's not. How's that for disappointment? 

Both Wednesday evening and the majority of Thursday were spent in the Quarter, giving me plenty of time to attempt to take in all the sites, smells, and tastes. Wednesday’s meal consisted of a bowl of thick and cumbersome noodles piled high with a melody of pickled potatoes, zucchini and what I think were radishes, and the entirety of Thursday’s afternoon was filled with snacks from the swarm of vendors that are sprinkled down each street. Spicy cheyenne fried potatoes pair nicely with Xi’an thick yogurt, but avoid the little bread cakes stamped with Chinese Characters sold for 1 yuan…It’s similar to eating a dry salt cake mixed with a flour paste. Not my favorite bite from the Muslim street, to be sure. 

Aren't walnuts beautiful? 

Because of the heat, several Yuans were spent on ice cream and yogurt bars as we poked into the alleyways and did some shopping before visiting Gan Gao’s courtyard for a shadow puppet show. Despite not understanding word of dialogue, the intricate puppets were mesmerizing to watch…and the show made a good intermission between noshing on the edible goodies waiting outside. Another yogurt bar was purchased before sitting down on the hot steps to watch dusk settle over the massive Bell Tower that marks the entrance to the Muslim Quarter; swarms of birds were replaced by bats that swirled by the structure’s rafters while people milled around the shops that towline the square. It was a dreamy end to a lovely day of squealing over rounds of puffed pita and beautifully piled goose eggs…made even more perfect by snagging a spear of cool cantaloupe from a fruit vendor on my walk back to the hostel. 

Eggs in cartons are a rare sight in China; my favorite way they are transported is in a massive crate
precariously situated at the feet of whomever is driving the motor scooter. 

The Venice of China.

Dubbed "The Venice of China," Suzhou is just a short ride by bullet train from Nanjing...But why save time when you can save money by taking a K train? Unlike their faster counterparts, K trains are bombarded by youths who make quite the racket despite the early hour. Crowded, smoke filled, and loud; exactly how a vacation should start. Sarcasm aside, the 2 days in Suzhou was delightful. Saturday and Sunday were spent on the beautiful canals, gazing up at a building that looks like a pair of pants, eating steamed bread that looked like penguins, and perusing various markets. Food, architecture and alleyways: that's exactly how a weekend should start.

Not quite Italy, but close. 

Serendipitously, right after we had gotten off a city bus trying to make it to the PanMen gardens, a lovely lady named Ivy invited us to lunch and drove us through the windy alleyways to the garden. She had seen us trying to figure out where we were on a massive city map and asked if we would like a ride to the park instead of walking. She mentioned she needed to get lunch for friends before leaving, ordered us noodles, then had us all eat lunch up in her office that overlooked the city. We then all piled into her car and got to PanMen in record time. Suzhou was quickly earning some serious points; people can be so incredibly kind. The park itself was beautiful; white washed and black tiled hip and gabled roofs peeked out between pagodas, willow lined canals, and dreamy bonsai forests. To top it off, an art installment had beautiful glass orbs that chimed between vibrantly colored paper windmills, creating a quiet swirl of sounds when the breeze flitted through the trees. Naturally, it was an ideal place to take a nap.

Little motorcycles zip along the city stopping to sell the most beautiful fruit. 

Maybe it was the crooning lullaby our boats-woman had sung during our canal ride, but all four of us were beat despite it being early afternoon so we cuddled up on the banks of the canals and snoozed a bit before walking down the haphazard streets to our next bus stop. I don't use the term haphazard lightly; the roads are a honking maze of mopeds swerving between private cars a busses while this particular street had shops with knee high stacks of dishes out front or burlap sacks piled high with cayenne, black tea, cinnamon sticks and other spices. I loved it.

Forget buying dishing off the rack. 

And that's exactly how the rest of the weekend went; kind strangers riding segways pointed us to various gardens, markets, other food streets or alleys crammed full with succulents and parrots. I'm not kidding; Suzhou is home to a "bird and flower market" which means a terrifying combination that's reminiscent of an overcrowded and outdoor Petsmart and the abandoned garden section of your local Home Depot. It's an assault on the senses to be sure.

There are the loudest chirping crickets ever in this little clasped containers. 

I've yet to make it to Italy's Venice, but China's version certainly offered some aspects I'm sure aren't found in Europe. Sipping a coconut milk tea down the canals with an 'everything bagel' -esque round of bread made by one of the prominent Muslim eateries is one major difference- that and  being pleasantly bombarded by high school students who need to take pictures with foreigners for a homework assignment. Suzhou was unpredictable and beautiful; the characteristics of a weekend in China.

A Snack of Scorpions.

I’d heard of the famed food markets of China and had been waiting to put my money where my mouth was and order up a skewer of scorpions. 

Scorpions and seahorses aplenty. 

I’d visited plenty of food streets in China thus far, but Beijing’s Wangfujing street had a collection of creepy crawlies I hadn’t had the pleasure of tasting yet. We had all eaten a delightful and delicious breakfast at a farmer’s home after climbing off the Great Wall of China meaning my stomach wasn’t exactly empty when we arrived at the bustling and lantern adorned street. Right at the entrance, a booth adorned with skewers of seahorses, rows of glistening grasshoppers, and topped off with a bouquet of little scorpions. Neighboring booths were selling potato skewers, towers of Beijing yogurt, sugared strawberries stacked 12 high and other goodies, but I was on a mission; I wanted a eat a scorpion. 

Yum. 

It’s something you have to decide before ducking down the busy street because your courage will falter when you see the critters in real life, waiting to be munched and crunched. 

The tiny desert dwelling snacks were everywhere; vendors got a kick out of shoving live scorpions glued onto sticks in our faces and were pursued the street, trying to muster up the courage. 2 other girls and myself split the cost of a skewer of 3, each carefully sliding off the slightly greasy critter off it’s thin, wooden prison and took the time to muster up courage and to take a multitude of pictures. At the count of three, the scorpions were quickly shoved into apprehensive mouths, stinger and all. 

 

The faces sort of say it all: disgust, amusement, and general confusion. 

I had low expectations for this thrill-filled snack; it was crunchy, greasy, and tasted like the singe of burnt hair. The whole thing crunched around in my mouth before being washed down with a healthy gulp of water and a few caramelized strawberries. I hadn’t known what the aftertaste would be like, and wanted a juicy burst of sweet to wash out any sort of scorpion residue before finding an actual meal among the booths. While it is not the worst thing I have ever eaten, I don’t see myself dishing up seconds anytime soon. 

Not pictured: the skewer of strawberries purchased immediately after the scorpions. 

Finding the Forbidden City.

The Beijing Railway station provides a visual for anyone doubting China’s boggling population. It seemed that all of China was crammed into the exit canals that spilled onto the square outside, into the bright and sweltering sun. It’s a decently good wake up call after a fitful night of sleep on a sleeper train. While there was no loogie alarm clock this go around, there were some chatty Kathy’s that got yaking around 5:30 and continued their conversation until our train made it’s jerkiest and last stop in Beijing. Seriously, the train felt like it was driven by a 4-year-old that was learning the struggling of having terrible hand and eye coordination. Sleep or no sleep, only having only 4 days in this city meant it was time to make the most of it. Yes, during my life of teaching for a handful of hours and eating crazy good noodles and seeing the sites around my own historic city, I also get vacation time to visit places I've only dreamed about, hence the trip to Beijing. I've got it rough, I know. 

Thinking about snatching one of these lions in my suitcase to stash on my own doorstep. 

A quick moment to repack bags at our hostel after taking the metro from the train station and a 10 minute walk led to Tiananmen Square. It’s enormous, by the way, and incredible to see in person. Everyone has seen pictures of the place, so it’s neat to get some first hand context about the events that happened here.  The impressive grounds are no place to lounge (though some did picnic under the streetlight/surveillence poles- a meager slice of shade in the heat) so once our banana ice pops had melted, it was time to move onto the Palace Museum. They are sold by woman shouting Yi Kuia, Yi Kuia on the street and are the best way to beat the heat (and cost about $0.15).  Unbeknownst to us, "The Palace Museum" is  the Chinese colloquial of The Forbidden City which initially caused some confusion. A split between pro-audio guide and anti-audio guide broke the group into sections, and the more historically inclined took the longer route through the maze of golden tiled rooftops. A stunning site to see, these glittering rooftops give a glimpse into the lavish life of the Chinese royalty; I cannot believe people in the past called these intricately detailed, richly decorated, and insanely massive palaces home. H. got an audio guide which meant sharing tidbits of information that only enriched the experience; at one point, I walked on a marble road between two palaces that was only reserved for the emperor....Emperor Emily has a ring to it, don't you think? 

The real win of this picture is not having single tourist in the shot. 

Despite the Beijing heat, it's well worth an afternoon to delve into the small side streets that bridge the main drag of the Palace Museum. The courtyards are smaller, with an old herringbone type stonework where the cracks are inhabited with moss under massive and shady trees, adorned with plaques that literally read "old tree". Unfortunately, there were more sites to see in Beijing so we bid our adieus. A dizzying metro ride later, and it was time to check off a site I had wanted to see since the 2008 Olympics. The Bird's Nest would have to wait until tomorrow, but this afternoon was reserved for the Temple Of Heaven. 

Check out Instagram for the single jumping picture that turned out amidst the
dozens of attempts. 

Though nearly every structure in China has been burned down once or thrice, it's still a marvel to see in person, and older than anything in the United States can boast about. The park itself is a place I wish I could have spent more time in. Huge rows of neatly planted trees shade diagonal pathways where you can hear a smattering of unique comings and goings. Old men are huffing and puffing on the workout park to one corner, while the brassy tune of an accordion plays over the pitched opera sung by a group of women congregated to another side. Small circles of people gather to bounce a feathered shuttlecock around while tourists mill around between pockets of every day life of Beijingers. The sites to see of course were stunning, and merited an embarrassing number of photos trying to get the perfect shot. 

A now-Nanjing-nostalgic dinner of tomato and eggs (you gotta try it) was dinner for the night before give the alleyways behind the hostel some decent exploring time. Rows of restaurants with deep mahogany ducks roasting in the windows while the side streets allowed a glimpse of real life; a man dragging a dog more interested in snuffling in the gutters, a woman giving a reluctant child a bath in a plastic tub, and a group of women playing mahjong at a side table outside of a teeny restaurant roasted kabobs outside, all alight by the neon signs the lit up the dark alleys. As a side note; buy anything that is reminiscent of a circular pastry I adore no matter what city you are in. Beijing's street food version is a flaky crust imbedded with black sesame seeds and studded with a sweet honey type syrup that has soaked into the pastry. De-licious, and the perfect sweet treat before going to bed. The fruit salad ordered by another teacher at the restaurant was less successful. Fruit salad apparently means some sort of pear tossed into straight up mayonnaise. Also, the grapes in the picture apparently can be replaced with tomatoes. 

The Great Pocky Experiment.

Food is an enormous part of any worthwhile travel experience, and being in China for a good part of a half a year means eating a lotta things. Some tastes have been less successful (stinky tofu, anyone?) while others I could (and try to) eat everyday (muslim noodles, please). I believe I had had Pocky before coming to China, but it’s got a cultish following here despite it’s Japanese origin. The kids here HATE Japan. They aren’t shy about it either, please see Hannah’s blogpost for more details. I had stashed a box of the chocolate dipped cookie sticks in my backpack one day which had Blaze dropping to his knees begging me to give him a piece. Considering Blaze’s English skill, it was pretty impressive to hear him say so many words in English to get his point across. It’s pretty good stuff and comes in a rainbow of flavors. Hannah had the stroke of brilliance to buy as many flavors as we could find at the local Suguo and talk to everyone in the group to find a combination worthy to name after themselves. We are talking 15 boxes of Pocky and 23 flavor combinations. As the flavors piled up, the idea of the Great Pocky Experiment got more and more difficult to resist.

Rows and rows and rows of the stuff.

Despite our love for Pocky, there were Nanjing sites to visit, kids to teach, and translation mistakes to be made. Life gets busy here in China. It was surprising difficult to find the time to start the Pocky project. The rows of boxes sat atop a box shelf, tantalizingly taunting us before bed when all you want to do is chow down on new flavors of the stuff.  They sat quietly, like row of books atop a shelf you are dying to read but you can't just blitz through because you want to give the whole process justice. But no; we had to wait. But the payoff was worth it. This morning, we decided dozens of Pocky sticks would make for an excellent breakfast. 

Half way through the matching up process...yum!

Hannah started by laying out all the flavor combinations; White Mousse and Double Chocolate, Strawberry Cream and Banana, Almond Milk Tea and Matcha, etc. Before too long, a couple dozen perfectly angled pairs of Pocky soon lined our desk. Hannah made her predictions, I made known my favorites, and then, only then, did the tasting begin.  Hannah filmed herself tasting the suggestions paired by our fellow teachers and graded each flavor combination on three fields of criteria: aesthetics, flavor blending, and overall taste. There were some surprises; I was not a fan of any of the strawberry flavors which nixed out a few contenders. "Strawberries and Cream”, “Strawberry Cheesecake”, "I Like Smoothies Berry Much"; all of which got low scores on my leaderboard. There were no surprises when my top rated were the chocolate contenders. The thicker mousse Pocky’s were divine and only got better when paired with more chocolate. Shocker: the very best flavor in my opinion was the S’mores combo. Basically, take all the chocolate Pocky’s you can find (Mousse Milk, Double Chocolate, Classic Chocolate, Regular Milk, Mousse Dark Chocolate) and eat them all in one go. It. Was. Delicious. My “Black and White” combo is the poor man’s version and was quite tasty, prejudice aside. 

By the end, I was so sick off Pocky, but there was one last flavor to go; “The Fruit Smoothie”; A mixture of all the fruit flavors, from Mango Mousse to Double Strawberry; It was disgusting and a sad ending to the Pocky Experiment. Luckily, the overall winner as dubbed my averaging mine and Hannah’s scores was the “Banana Split”; a classic combination of banana and chocolate. I pushed aside my sugar sick feeling to let that taste linger in my mouth before heading to class. 

Later that evening, we had all the other teachers over to taste some new flavors of Pocky (and to get rid of the remainder) with a little Pocky Mixer. Tried and true and new combinations were made, and everyone seemed to have rediscovered a love for the sweets. I think I’ll be off the stuff for a while…but I will be bringing home a few boxes. 

The remains of the Great Pocky Experiment.

Bamboozled.

When in China, be sure to follow the wise words of anyone who says "local guide". We started out our Thursday morning by getting mangoes and strawberries for breakfast and heading out to the countryside on motorbikes. We had planned to hike Moon Hill, a beautiful archway atop a karst, which is where we met Mama Moon. Mama Moon is a spunky lady who has to be at least 70 years old, who advertised herself as a "local guide" who could get us entry tickets for a "local price" and show us the "local trail". We would be getting a 75% discount on the price, which is hard to argue with. Turns out the local way is parking our motor scooters in the forest, climbing over a mossy stone wall, and crawling through the overgrown bamboo on a muddy and very obviously human made pathway in the mud. In between shushing us to be quiet and having us duck down so we wouldn't be seen, Mama Moon kept assuring us we were on the right path. Eventually, we did meet up with the paved walkway and made it to the top for some spectacular views. It was only awkward when 11 sweaty and muddy Americans clamored on the paved path in front of some rather shocked Europeans who had no idea where we had emerged from. Thanks, Mama Moon. 

Bamboo is the only way to travel. 

The rest of the afternoon was idyllically cruising the countryside on our little motor scooters. We took the same scenic route we found on the bikes, and made it to the same cafe for more mango sorbet and the chance to maybe float on bamboo rafts. Call it creatures of habit, but the mango sorbet and the views make it a hard place to only visit once. The rafts weren't running that day, so we ordered a leisurely lunch, but the minute we had finished, we saw someone untying the rafts to float on the river. We took our chance; this whole trip, the river had been too high to even think about rafting it. While not being able to raft all week, it also meant we were the only rafts on the water that afternoon. I highly recommend slowly floating the river being gently paddled by a man wielding a huge bamboo stick as you gaze up the catawampus mountains carpeted in green around you. It's lovely. 

Our last remaining days in Yangshuo were spent soaking up the scenery by finding little hikes and pathways to wander, riding through the countryside on bikes and motor scooters, and again on foot while munching on mangoes and those egg crepes I've come to love. Evenings were spent swapping stories in the many cafes that line the offshoots of West Street, and considering how much tea is too much tea to bring home for friends and family. One afternoon was spent doing a cooking class with the Cloud 9 restaurant; Hannah and I myself joined two French women and the restaurant's head chef for a market tour and then a tutorial on how to make 4 or 5 dishes.  The lack of photos is only because we were instructed to keep cameras and phones away while we strolled through the enormous market and later cooked our meal. The vegetables were beautiful; deep plum eggplants neighbored piles of lotus roots and bamboo shoots while huge bags of cumin perfumed the air. Baskets of eggs were precariously stacked to be inspected by those interested; teeny speckled quail eggs, soft mint and beige chicken eggs and larger duck eggs all piled high to be admired. I could talk all day about the produce, though I intentionally skipped out on the butcher block. However, detour didn't save me from spying the bags of turtles, bins of eels, and buckets of snails that rimmed the entrance. 

(Rule breaker; impromptu market shot). 

The kitchen was a long room framed by windows that overlooked the city. Each station was lined with well loved woks and containers of seasoning staples like salt, sesame oil, garlic  ginger, black vinegar and oyster sauced. First up was a mushroom and scallion stuffed and steamed dumplings, then spicy green beans sautéed with numbing sichuan, a stir fry of Chinese lettuce root and carrots, and little parcels of deep fried egg plant stuffed with the remaining dumpling mixture. While the French women split their meals with their interpreter and had extra to take home in a takeaway box, Hannah and I had no problem polishing off the delicious meal. The package included a little print off of the recipes, meaning I'll be recreating the meal as best I can when it comes time to go back home. 

Don't be fooled by the print on the currency; there are about 172,192 bamboo rafts in that river if the 20 yuan note wasn't in the way. 

Before leaving Yangshuo, we had to get a photo by the so called "20 yuan shot", the scenic stretch of the Li River that appears on the back of the 20 yuan note. True to the TripAdvisor review, after you will come to despise the word bamboo after your visit. The entire walk through dusty streets lined with people selling fruit and little fish in tiny bags, I was bombarded with about a thousand offers for a ride down the river on a bamboo raft. Dozens of tiny women shouted "Bamboo! Bamboo!" as we all made our way down to the river and tried not to melt in the scorching sun. On our walk back to the bus, we were chased down by one last woman shouting "Bamboo, bamboo!". I would had brushed her off as just another vendor, but I recognized that spunky grin anywhere- Mama Moon had come to the neighboring city Pinxing to work her "local guide" magic. True to form, she tried to have us spend the afternoon hiking up a karst to see the view from a bird's eye perspective, telling us we could get in "no charge, just for locals!". Sadly, we had a bus to catch, and couldn't fit it in. I fully expect to see Mama Moon sneaking tourists onto the Great Wall next month. Until then, it was a bumpy bus ride before catching a tuk-tuk, then another coach to Guilin, where a bullet train took us to Liuzhou and a sleeper train (full post on THOSE adventures to come) and a taxi before arriving in Zhangjiajie; the Avatar Mountains. 

Feet are Fish Food.

The long awaited two week vacation is finally here. I know it sounds like all I do is travel around China, but that's because that is what I do when I'm not teaching. Hard life, I know. We had been sorting out hostels, and flights, and guides, and entrance fees for ages and now the wait was over. A quick flight from Nanjing to Guilin, and I was more than ready to
 start our southern China adventures. Technically, the adventure really started on the plane because China plays these awesome game shows as flight entertainment, so there's that.


We first flew into Guilin at night, giving us the chance to explore the city in the daylight the next morning. There's really nothing more exciting then flying into a new city at night then seeing the streets when you wake up. The brightly neon characters that light up various stores and hotels are now eclipsed by the Dr. Seuss mountains that peak out between buildings. The streets were lined with late start vendors selling black tea eggs and steamed buns, while sleepy shops were yet to open. A walk over a bridge spanning to Li river opened up a view of iconic mountains that frame the city, but the Seven Star Scenic park situation at the end of the bridge was equally fantastic. A huge walkway lines with trees that were all brightly painted with different animals greeted you; everything from pandas, dragons, snails, sea horses, seals...you name it, and it was artfully painted directly onto the trees. We set out to wandering the whole park and found some surprises.

After deciding to head to the scenic outlook, we checked out a set of stairs to see why people were crowded around...the answer? Monkeys. Monkeys just chilling on railways, monkeys hanging out in trees, and monkeys who had claimed a Buddhist worship site in the mountainside as home. Other spectators tossed peanuts, letting the monkey's lazily catch them and shove them greedily in their mouths, while we opted to hand feed the munchie monkeys carrots and apples.  Within 5 minute or so the trees began to shake and more monkeys came out from the leafy forest. It went from cute to pretty frightening; those monkeys get aggressive when the sunflower seeds run out. 


Additional highlights from day one also included hiking around Elephant Trunk Hill, causing a crowd to form around a group of Americans who insisted on making elephant sounds in front of Elephant Trunk hill, and a fabulous lunch. I've realized that money can't buy happiness but food pretty much can. The streets outside the park were lined with vendors and tiny restaurants where you could sit on wooden stools and watch men play Chinese Chess or be mesmerized by the fruit vendors who artfully cut pineapple into intricately carved halves to be sold on sticks. I was playing it a bit safe by ordering what I thought were fried noodles like a chow mien but it ended up receiving long thin noodles in a smooth peanut sauce, topped with scallions. What a happy coincidence, because I could bathe in that peanut sauce and die happy.  A man at the table next to us was delicately folding dumplings with the most beautifully twisted top which soon became the second course while fresh half pineapple made the ideal dessert. Toss in the fact all this cost about 2$ US, and I'm a happy camper. There were *others* that were freaked out that the restaurant we ate at received a "C" grade rating for food safety or what-not, but considering what was eaten for dinner, that little fit becomes hilarious. 

Elephant Trunk Hill, and the Asian pose to match 

After leaving the park, we accidentally we found this market street where a very nice man named Robert wanted to show us his artwork which was gorgeous. I adore those calligraphy style prints of bamboos, rice terraces, and koi fish. The real treat was a little tea ceremony he graciously invited us to, where the Osmanthus tea specific to Guilin was the perfect appetizer to our dinner at the night markets. Robert then pointed us towards the foodie Mecca. The narrow side streets are crammed with stands selling meat on sticks, fried corn, vegetables swimming in spicy sauces, crawfish piled high onto platers, and bamboo steamers stacked too high were filled with every kind of dumpling you could imagine. Dinner was a smorgasbord of tasting anything I could get my hands on: spicy peanut and sesame seasoned potatoes, a crunchy and chewy pita bread liberally smeared with ketchup or some other tangy sweet sauce, and a container (or two) of golden potstickers. The atmosphere was so fun; handing over colorful bills and seeing your food being fried up right in front of your eyes while steam clouded your view of what the vendor across the way was making. The FDA takes all the fun out of food places like this, but I guess they had their reasons. I didn't get sick from anything I ate, but I could have done without seeing the well fed rats that scampered between piles of discarded skewers and styrofoam. Yum. 

This bamboo bridge said no more than 15 people so naturally entire tour groups traversed the shaky structure. 

Saturday was spent meandering the city, but Sunday we had more of a plan. We had signed up to go with a Chinese tour guide to the Longji rice terrance which was an excellent move because I can't understand any Chinese and our guide decided to serenade us partway through the two hour drive. Neat. I didn't need to speak Chinese to see the excessively green mountainsides blur past as the small shuttle hugged hairpin turns, letting scenes from village life whiz by: women washing vegetables from a metal bin and setting out cuts of meat straight on wooden tables to sit in the sun. 

From left to right: tea, fish, tea.

The scenery changes quickly here, with clouds of mist so think you can't see 20 feet in front of you that will suddenly shift to reveals a jaw dropping view in hues of green. We opted to ride the cable car up to the rice terraces which was the best decision of the day: the high viewpoint allowed us to see the sprawling stacks of rice terraces one on top of another. The large pavilion and walkway allowed a stationary view that was hard to really comprehend. The terraces go on seemingly forever which meant spending a lot of time on up of the mountain trying to take it all in. Luckily, a man sells whole passion fruits that are the ideal rice terrace snack. Additional vendors sell crystallized honey (complete with whole combs and buzzing bees) which is delightful when crumbled on the passion fruit. We did, however, have to budget our time because we opted to hike down the terraces to get a closer view. The ground was slippery but the views were stellar. 

(Unreal).

A very beautiful bus ride got us back to the city, where dinner was at our favorite food street. The rat sightings didn't dissuade us from those fried potatoes. Plus, the night's entertainment was just one stop over from the food stands. Dubbed "kissing fish", putting your feet into a tank of fish that are frantically trying to suck the dead skin off your toes is a bit daunting. While cultural, this is not for the ticklish.  There was lots of squirming and squealing because fish were eating the skin off your feet! A mere $3 gets you 20 full minutes of uncomfortable nibbling, though the parlor's sign advertised that "kissing fish will bring you joy, happiness and peace". Ironic. 

To top the night off, be sure to snag a whole mango sliced into long strips before walking the boardwalk to see the Sun and Moon Pagodas...It helps you take your mind off the kissing fish. 

Stinky Tofu Takes the Cake

As someone well versed in how to spend a Saturday morning and afternoon, the very best days always include peeking into alleyways, investigating closed doors and eating as much street food as possible. Our darling second grade Chinese teacher Lily took it upon herself to take a group loud American teachers to the nearby Confucius Temple district for a Saturday of doing just that.

We all got up pretty early to meet Lily at Qinhuai; from our school it was over an hour on the metro, but well worth it. The walk through the neighborhoods to get to the area near the Confucius Temple were just waking up, riddled with tiny steam-filled alleyways, bike mechanics and towering apartments, windows slung with laundry still drying from yesterday's wash. Where we met Lily was gorgeous – even though most buildings were little shops or eateries, they all subscribe to the same style of gorgeous architecture. A massive gate towers above the whole main street, casting a shadow over the still sleeping store fronts. The streets were quiet when we first arrived; old men played Chinese Chess on tables while a handful of "early birds" noshed on skewered foodstuffs.

Lily brought her husband and darling son along for the ride, and we started our day. Lily wanted us to taste the local food of Nanjing; we started out with sugar syrup covered fruit on sticks, then sesame seed covered pastries filled with a salty and oniony paste that flaked all over your shoes and onto the mossed covered cobbled streets. Both were big hits. We spent time in between courses wandering the alleyways that shot off from the main drag, poking into stores completely dedicated to pandas or tea ceremonies before stopping at another vendor to test out another goodie. Some were more successful than others; I'm into tasting the local culture, but stinky tofu is not my cup of tea. The wildly popular snack looks harmless enough, yet was able to pack quite the punch in the smell and texture department. I didn't mind the spicy vinegar atop the slightly crunchy exterior, but minded the uncomfortably chewy texture and aroma. As far as the strangest thing I think I've put in my mouth, I think stinky tofu takes the cake. 

A group of 13 loud Americans certainly drew a crowd, so it wasn't too long before a group of feathered-hack-sack-playing locals invited us to pay and get a picture, or a man stopped us to sing some Adele, complete with custom lyrics. We admired the Ming Wall for a spell before snagging an early lunch consisting of very traditional dishes. While the salted duck wasn't too dissimilar from cold Thanksgiving turkey, and I adore bao zi (steamed soup dumplings), the duck blood soup is one that I don't think I'll order again...but I tried it. Lily also ordered sweet taro root in a sticky saccharine sauce, and another similarily sweet dish that consisted of soft balls of rice swimming in a thick and cloyingly sweet sauce. As if that wasn't enough food, we snagged a stack of guotie (potstickers) and then had this strangely textured type of noodles I think were made out of beans. It was sort of like a cold slaw topped with fresh chopped garlic and some vinegary sauce that packed a punch. Lily knew right when to take us to the most popular restaurants; the little pastry bakery we began our morning with was quickly swarming with people, dozens and dozens of hungry breakfasters were waiting in a queue that was quickly snaking down the now busting alleyways, wrapping around the tiny stops. People were walking around with bags bursting full, slightly opaque with the steam of the warmed pastries. After tasting them warm, I don't blame them; I've made plans to bring a smallish wagon with me and cart the lot back to my apartment. 

While an afternoon of nibbling, it's difficult to pluck a specific moment to title as my favorite, however, there was a man pouring the most incredible sugar drawings of Chinese characters and Chinese zodiac signs is an obvious favorite. Due to the fact that I'm into any sort of sugared novelty item, and it being the year of the monkey and I am also a monkey and the fact that I'm in China in the zodiac year I was born made it irresistible. Sugared versions of your zodiac sign? Yes, please. 

Shortly after, we said our goodbyes to Lily, then took a bus adventure to the Confucius temple. By bus adventure, I mean we have no idea how the buses work (yet) so we boarded and found out you need exact change or you don't get your 10 yuan note back. We weren't sure what stop to get off of so we made a guess. There is an oddly liberating aspect of traveling in China and not being able to read a single character. 

It means you get to stumble on unintended adventures because you have no idea what you are ordering or buying tickets for. Hannah and myself thought this garden place looked neat, thinking it was an entrance to the Confucius Temple and ended up being serendipitously incorrect. 

We happened to find a delightfully beautiful garden behind the entrance gates. Everything is starting to bloom which meant gorgeous white and pink blooms framed pagodas which framed waterfalls and various ponds. I can't wait until the blossoms are in full swing on campus and all over Nanjing. We happily joined the small kids climbing over rocks to find hidden alcoves and hopped over rocks to check out the other side of the jade green pond while vividly orange  orange fish bobbed to the surface for crumbs.  It also felt nice to be out in nature after spending so much in the city, taking the metro, and gazing up at the skyscrapers at Xinjiekou.Additionally, it was lovely place to be bombarded by an entire tour group of middle aged Asian men who each wanted an individual photo of Hannah and myself. What happens to those photos, I haven't the slightest, but it didn't get uncomfortable until we were still being photographed after a solid 5-7 minutes. It was a quiet park, nestled in a bustling city and a delightful finish to an afternoon of noshing.