Pop Quiz

Lets see if anyone can give me a good answer to the following question. First correct guess will get a special gift from China - leave your answer in the comments section below or email it to me at sergiyzubko@gmail.com before July 6th.

You will notice a rope dangling just outside the window in the below photo. Guess what it is used for. Hints: photo was taken from the 23rd floor of an (upscale) office building, and the answer isn't Spiderman.


Winner, along with explanation, will be announced shortly after July 6th. Kids (of all ages), send me your edumacated guesses!

Sticks

As you no doubt know by now, food in China is very reasonably priced. Belay that - food in China is downright cheap. While I've eaten in restaurants all over town including Chinese spots with many different specialties (Peking duck, dumplings, etc.) I've also indulged in North Korean, Mexican, and Russian cuisine at highly approachable prices - for 50 kuai (about 7 American bucks) you can get a great meal at most restaurants. However, all of the above totally pale in taste, price, and cultural flavor when compared to schuar - sticks for us foreigners.

What are these fabled sticks I speak of? Americans would call them barbecue - except the pieces of meat (or veggies, fish, or anything you can put on there, like chicken hearts) are small and tacked on little wooden sticks like kabobs, and the sauce isn't barbecue - it is a delicious mix of herbs and spices that can range from baby to scorched-stomach-lining levels of spiciness. My favorite are beef schuar, with chicken coming in a close second. Because I live right next to a Hutong (traditional alley), cheap eats - especially sticks - are right outside my window. Part of the experience is eating outside, where small tables are set up right in the street, allowing us to watch the ebb and flow of our Hutong while we munch on these unbelievable goodies. Unbelievable? After trying several places, we zeroed-in on one spot where the lady makes to-die-for sticks, and the tables are sitting in a perfect vantage point. After choosing vegetables and meat to be cooked, we settle down to watch the street, sip the local brew and talk about our day, our Hutong, and China.


While we typically go for the stellar stick place next to our apartment, one can get them anywhere in the city - just look for the lighted stick sign (above my shoulder to left of picture). Stick vendors seem to operate around the clock. I've come home past 4 in the morning only to find them fanning meat on their grills with the locals sitting, smoking, and eating until daylight hours. The same picture would begin forming around 7 or 8 in the morning - and another day of stick/beer consumption would begin. Sticks are a local staple - you almost never see foreigners eat them in our area, so each time we are sitting out there, we get a ton of stares from the passersby. This is about as traditional as you can get with food in Beijing.


Sylvain is demonstrating proper stick-eating form. His plate contains a mixture of noodles, mushrooms, cabbage, tofu balls, and peppers. The purple stuff in my plate is cabbage - with mushrooms and cabbage, all topped with a whole lot less spice than you'll find in Sylvain's plate. We ordered 20 beef sticks for the two of us - at the astronomical price of 1 kuai per stick. Convinced yet? The price to taste ratio here is off the charts - our meal, including beer, sticks, and veggies comes out to something like 40 kuai, or only slightly more than the 5 dollar bill in your wallet.

Shidu - Part 2: Gushanzhai

Friends, I love breakfast. Besides being the most important meal of the day - alas, most people tend to skip it - it allows me to collect my thoughts and form a plan of attack for the tasks ahead. The quiet of a morning breakfast is always sacred. Unless of course, you have a mix of rowdy Americans and Europeans to spoil the sanctity of your early hours. As soon as anyone tried the red (that, right there, should have been the warning sign) tofu, all hell broke loose. At least those still sleepy received a quick, albeit rude, awakening from the strange crimson substance.


My first real Chinese breakfast. The big bowls contain soy milk (left) and corn meal (right). Fried eggs in the middle, with dough bread and cabbage salad to the front. Tofu is left of the eggs, and another cabbage salad is in between the large bowls. Directly behind the soy milk is the offending red tofu - that stuff was so salty and pungent, it could raise the dead out of their graves - no wonder the Chinese serve it at breakfast. Thus properly fortified (with a fair chance that a bathroom break may be in order during the hike) we were ready to hit our day's destination - Gushanzhai park.

Gushanzhai park is another staple Shidu scenic spot. The park is laid out around a mountain complete with make-shift fortress, Buddhist temple, and interesting rock formations such as a "Shot in the Sky" - a narrow, half-a-meter wide passage through a cliff with the sky above. A rocky river snakes below with cool, fresh water from the mountains.


The park is truly majestic with its peaks, valleys, and rocky river flowing in between the mountains. Buildings in the valley are restaurants, they line the river for a short distance, at which point paths into the mountains begin cropping up.


Chris is an American from Connecticut, he's spent quite some time in China spread over different trips - his Mandarin is pretty good.


And old Buddhist temple. Note the statuette on the rocks above the shrine. On our way back down the valley, we heard singing coming from this spot.


This break in the rocks is called the "Shot in the Sky" and runs for about 25 meters at half-meter width. You could theoretically climb to the top, but I was under the impression that the tourists around me would frown upon the idea of me dropping on their necks if I slipped. Point of note: there were virtually no Westerners in the entire park. I ran into a couple of Americans on my way up the first time, but our group aside, everyone else was positively Chinese.


These little waterfalls feed the mountain river.


Just in case you were planning to slip any other way, this helpful sign will direct you as to the precise manner in which you should act when falling off the rocks. The main path wraps around the river and turns up onto the mountain, going to the top and then back down again. The path is supposed to take 1-2 hours to complete. While the Hutongers meandered somewhere behind me, I walked it in about 30 mins each of the first two times, running the last one in something like 10 minutes. Let me tell you - there was clamor up and down the line as I ran around the rocks, hopping on and off to get around the other visitors (there was an almost unbroken line of people walking the trail at this point in the day). More than once, I was reminded that I should be "Careful, slipping" by my fellow (supposedly English speaking?) Chinese hikers, with enough angry glares to propel me to new levels of speed. I love your continued support of my athletic pursuits, Chinese people.


The fun (not to mention fresh air) had to end eventually. That realization hit especially hard on the drive back into town. My catnap was rudely interrupted by the deep rumble and smell of diesel exhaust. To my dismay, it wasn't one, or two, or even three trucks - but 20 or 30 of them, and I'm not using the term big loosely here. 18-wheelers? Try 24+ wheels under heavy load. Each of these things was easily 3 to 4 times the length of our bus and moved painfully slow. What were they hauling? Mostly gravel - for building foundations, roads, and all the endless construction we see around town. As diesel exhaust particles are one of the most harmful substances to human lungs, large diesel trucks are not allowed to enter Beijing during daylight hours - in fact, if you see a construction site at night, chances are it will be clogged with heavy machinery moving in and out - the only time they are allowed to do so. We just happened to be lucky enough to run into a convoy that was staging to enter city proper, and had to crawl along breathing exhaust for over a half-hour while our driver tried (and tried, and tried...) to get past them. Let's say this again, together: welcome to China...

Shidu - Part 1: Tough Mudder Shidu

Gang, sorry for having dropped off the face of the earth, it has been a busy few weeks here in Beijing. I've also been having internet trouble - I swear it is sometimes faster to write the HTML code on a sheet of paper, fold it up into a plane, and throw it to where I want the info sent. But I digress, let's talk China again.

Shidu is a scenic destination located along the middle-upper reaches of the Juma River in Fangshan District, 96k (60 miles) away from Beijing. There are 10 bends along this segment of the river, on each of which a ferry crossing was set up in the past. Hence Shidu, which means "10th ferry crossing" in Mandarin. The area is distinctive due to its winding river course, deep here and shallow there, along with rolling hills and sheer rock walls, which combine to make for some truly spectacular visuals.

As a group of 14 Hutong schoolers, we would spend 2 days in the area, lodging in a local hotel and experiencing the sights, sounds, and crisp air of Shidu. That's right - no Beijing pollution here. Besides being able to see the sun, you can safely inhale without having to wonder whether a gas mask is in order. In short, paradise.

The second we got off the bus, I decided to initiate a little Tough Mudder Shidu action. Yeah, by the looks of it, a climb up one of those mountains would definitely involve a bit more than strolling up a well-worn foot path weaving its lazy way to the top. I wasn't disappointed - after dodging past the seemingly endless sea of vendors stocking standard tourist merchandise (i.e. mass-produced wooden Buddhas, beads, ice cream, bottled water, you name it) and navigating past the busy part of town to get near a mountain, I was able to execute a serious workout that involved running, jumping, climbing, slipping, rolling, and just about everything else short of parachuting just to get to the top and back down again - but don't let me get ahead of myself, lets start at the beginning.


Our driver was awesome. What other Chinese national would put up with a busload of boisterous, unruly Western youngsters out for a joy ride? Portable speakers blaring everything from Aerosmith to Snoop Dogg ensured the driver would keep his foot on the gas to get us to Shidu (and himself out of the bus) in record time.


Shidu's main venue: a winding river with paddle boating, kayaking, sunbathing, horse riding, and bungee jumping (no swimming? I know, I was disappointed too). Those two blue arches jutting out the side of the mountain are the bungee supports - at 200 kuai a hop, not a bad deal. People were jumping off all day, so we know the place is making good money.


You could take the ski lift up to the top to bungee off, or go see some of the other sights up there, like the old temple. Notice the little waterfall on the side of the cliff - there are natural streams all over these mountains. Boating is still one of the main attractions. The Hutong crew went off to ride horses, splash around on boats, and indulge in copious amounts of cheap ice cream. I had another task in mind...


The objective? The peak on the right. While just as tall as the left, it looked a whole lot more approachable then the others around, with less cliff faces not to be taken without serious gear (my climbing kit consisted of gloves, hands, and determination). I had to get around the tourist town (and the locals' watchful stares) to get near the mountain.


While the front of Shidu is all vendors, shops, and attractions, behind this wall of capitalism I found a true village with chicken coops, farm plots, and tiny houses - it instantly reminded me of rural Ukrainian areas I've run through - you know, the ones where all the dogs in town bark in chorus after you pass simply because they're so unused to runners.


After navigating to the top of the village, I hopped across a quiet gate and blew across a courtyard to get into the trees. Just in time too - as soon as I was in the treeline, a large gray dog (wolf?) came from behind the house, sniffed, and started barking in my direction. He was promptly instructed to shut up by someone inside the house (at least it didn't sound like "I love you, my faithful four-legged friend"). Told ya I didn't bring much gear - Camelbak with 3 liters of water, sunscreen and bug repellent (thanks, Mom) plus my trusty gloves. Oh yeah - I had my headlight in case the day went a bit long or I had to signal a rescue chopper in on my position - no way could they get a stretcher up this rocky, precarious mountainside on foot if I decided to break anything vital during my excursion. I don't think the Hutong School had any of this in mind when they took out trip insurance for this particular go.


The first of many cliff faces I ran into. Warning, kids: no serious cliff face climbing without safety harnesses and a competent partner. (No worries, Mom, I found a way around).


The mountain on the climb up. The peak on the left is where I would end up after about an hour of climbing, jumping, and scampering up and around the natural growth and rock formations of this beautiful place.


Shidu! The town is laid out below, with the bungee areas directly behind my head and our hotel to the right. The last few sections were technical, with some serious bouldering involved. Going Tough-Mudder-shirtless was order of the day - hence the cuts on the arms and body. I had a blast, now about that fall and the angry farmer on the way back down...

Home-Cooked Goodness

Friends, I love home-cooked food. Even the best five star restaurants often pale in comparison to the culinary delights churned out by a loved one – such as your mom or girlfriend. Unfortunately, stopping by your mom’s house or girlfriend’s crib to feel the love might sometimes be a bit problematic (being on the other side of the planet from them is one good reason, for example) so you have to opt for the next best thing – like a weathered Chinese fisherman with a bulging belly and strange sense of humor. Myself and 12 other Hutong Schoolers decided to do just that.

When asked how the program managed to unearth a native Beijinger willing to cook and cater to a group of 13 wai guo ren (foreigners) out of his own home, I was told that he was found through “A friend of a friend.” Yet another proof that knowing people is (perhaps the only) way to get anything done in China – take note, young grasshoppers, you will this networking-related material again.

The area we were dining in is situated around Xihai lake, and is a popular local destination for bars, restaurants, clubs - and fishing the day away. Those with a more romantic inclination can rent a paddle boat and explore – quite lovely given the nighttime reflection of lights from all the fine party establishments ringing the water. You may even escape the cigarette fumes if you pedal fast enough.

The gentleman appropriated a premier clump of lakefront real-estate and set up tables for us, providing a fine vantage point on the water. He then proceeded to exclaim that there were three beers per person but any other beverages would be hard to come by. Especially since it was looking more and more like rain, good luck trying to stay dry in this environment. Coke and orange juice did make an eventual appearance.


Stacey, our lovely event coordinator, describing the dishes and their significance as jiachangcai (Beijing style home-cooked meals) while making our mouths water. Next to her are another Hutong employee and our awesome host. Enough with the banter, bring on the red-braised pork!


Don't let the packaging fool you, at only 3% alcohol, these babies are more bottled water than the brew us Westerners traditionally partake in.


Clockwise from left to right, starting at the top: lychees and cherries in cream, boiled shrimp with cucumber, chicken wings in soy sauce, cucumber salad, fried fish, and red-braised pork. Deliciousness!


Our host/chef with the group - the dinner was a great sample of traditional Peking that could have only been experienced through our taste buds. The lake atmosphere was enchanting, the beer cold, and the fried fish particularly good. This is one place we'd all love to come back to.