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.