Our first and only full day at Nanjing saw us starting out at Purple Mountain (紫金山). With Nanjing as one of the historic capitals of China, serving at times under the Ming Dynasty and under the Republic, Purple Mountain is located towards the east of the old city (as determined by city walls), and houses the mausoleums of the early Ming emperors as well as that of Sun Yat-sen.
Well, we saw both. Nanjing's public light rail system is not as developed as more major Chinese cities, though a second line is being built and more are under planning, so we took a taxi to the base of the mountain, seeing that we had no idea how to work the buses, less read the bus stop signs.
From the taxi, we walked out to the entrance gate to the mausoleum of the first Ming emperor. The entrance fee was ¥70 CNY, less 20% with student discount if you read the signs. I read the signs but my friends didn't. Going to the mausoleum was a bit of a walk, though the crisp air, albeit quite cold during the late fall/early winter, presented a change from Hong Kong, and the escape to nature presented an escape from the city.
The first Ming Emperor's tomb was large and complex. Noticeable to me is the fact that the walls were painted pink rather than the traditional red. After seeing the Forbidden City in Beijing, along with plenty of other classic Chinese architecture, the complex seemed more large than interesting.
After walking halfway through the park, we approached the Sun Yat-sen Mausoleum. Apparently, this is one of the few places in Mainland China where you can still see the Kuomintang symbol (white sun on blue background) so prominently displayed. I had my picture taken by the vendors. They used their digital point-and-shoots rather than the big single-lens reflex cameras that I expected.
Sun Yat-sen is something of a hero here, which is understandable if you know his role in the establishment of modern China. I've been to no fewer that four memorials dedicated to him in four different cities. The first was the Sun Yat-sen Museum here in Hong Kong that Black Castle Tours took us to the weekend between the first and second weeks of instruction here. It was his Hong Kong residence turned into a museum of his comprehensive history and the founding of the Republic of China. The second was the Sun Yat-sen Memorial in Taipei, which was a big gray building with an orange roof that paled in impressiveness in comparison with the Chiang Kai-shek Memorial also in Taipei. The third was of the same name in Guangzhou. It had a large courtyard in front and a statue in his likeness, but we decided not to go inside because of the cost.
This fourth one that I went to in Nanjing was both a museum and a mausoleum. While it was not impressive like the Chiang Kai-shek Memorial in Taipei was by sheer size, it was impressive in the sheer walk it took to get there. I walked at a decent pace for a good ten minutes to get through the first gate, at which point there were stairs going all the way up. Though it was a long walk up, the views from the top were impressive.
Behind the memorial to Sun Yat-sen was his coffin place into the ground with a circular viewing area around it. It's like Napoleon's tomb in Paris, except much less grand, white, and surrounded by one level of viewing instead of two.
Continuing on in the day, we headed off to the Gate of China (中华门/中華門), which was just that--a gate. It was well restored though and decked out with Ming-Dynasty flags and porcelain Ming Dynasty guards. It formed part of the old city wall of Nanjing, of which much remains.
Along the way I introduced my friends to the sugarcoated seedy red fruits that I do not know the name of. They were being sold by street vendors at the intersection one of the major universities in Nanjing. It was so good to them that they wanted more on the way back. But when we got there, we saw the guy we first bought them from running away across the street. Then we could see why. The police came and take the other street vendor's goods away from her, throwing them into the back of the truck. There was no force used and no charges pressed, just quick and clean action.
No we still wanted the fruit candy things, so we crossed the street and found the guy who had gone and hid. He went into an alley and was sticking his head out looking for the police. We waited for him to come back out with his food to sell, and we pounced on the opportunity to buy some. Apparently he was frightened, but it all turned out okay with everybody getting what they wanted.
Next was Confucius temple (夫子庙/夫子廟), which I directed us to more for the neighborhood then the actual temple, which we didn’t end up going into. In this neighborhood was most noticeably a large shopping area full of hagglers and cotton candy (which my friends insisted calling candy floss, which I imagined was sugary dental floss that dissolved in your mouth).
The area was also notable for being the regional location for the civil servant examinations back in the day. Nanjing (南京) is capital of Jiangsu (江苏/江蘇) province, which includes the notable city of Suzhou (苏州/蘇州), which I visited two years ago. Not far away is Hangzhou (杭州), another literati gathering point famous for its scenery, which I visited on the same trip in 2007. This examination center was where these gentlemen would have received their qualifications after a long examination and subsequently been inducted into the bureaucracy.
This particular Confucius Temple was not particularly well known though. Since there was an entrance fee, a statue of Confucius in the entry court was obscured by a tasteful barrier so that you can’t see inside without paying.
To end the day, and the bulk of the trip, we had dinner at Papa Johns (来到棒!约翰), which like Pizza Hut, is a lot fancier in China (and apparently much of the rest of the world) than in the United States, where it’s just pizza delivery and take-out.
Monday, December 14, 2009
Sunday, December 13, 2009
Friday, December 11, 2009
The Trips that Never Happened
I thought I was going to go out with a bang. To end my stay here, I was going to travel around—to Singapore, Japan, and South Korea to be exact. Despite my intentions though, I won’t be going to any of them in the near future, and while I’m a little saddened, I know I’ll get over there some day.
It came down to a lack of earlier planning and the fact that I would have been traveling by myself. I was highly advised by my parents not to travel alone, because it’s always good to have at least one traveling companion for safety, even if you speak the language. (English and Mandarin for Singapore—yes, Japanese I could brush up on, South Korea I would have been relying on hoping to find English speakers.) I understood my parents concerns, but I wanted to go for it at least once. I heard that traveling alone is an experience like no other, and similar to studying abroad, I wanted to make this experience my own.
The ultimate reason why it didn’t work out was because of money. Because I hadn’t planned earlier, the prices were all inflated for the holidays. Because I was to be traveling alone, accommodation priced for two was little cheaper for one. One of the major services that I’ve been using, Cathay Pacific Holidays, doesn’t even allow for single travelers to book because all their prices are worked out for parties of two.
I looked into a weeklong trip to Singapore and Kuala Lumpur. Hotel and flight alone would have cost me $700 USD. For just $300 dollars more, I could have brought along two more people. So in the end, I decided that in order to spend money in a more sensible manner, I would postpone these trips indefinitely. After all, I’m most definitely coming back to East Asia sometime.
It came down to a lack of earlier planning and the fact that I would have been traveling by myself. I was highly advised by my parents not to travel alone, because it’s always good to have at least one traveling companion for safety, even if you speak the language. (English and Mandarin for Singapore—yes, Japanese I could brush up on, South Korea I would have been relying on hoping to find English speakers.) I understood my parents concerns, but I wanted to go for it at least once. I heard that traveling alone is an experience like no other, and similar to studying abroad, I wanted to make this experience my own.
The ultimate reason why it didn’t work out was because of money. Because I hadn’t planned earlier, the prices were all inflated for the holidays. Because I was to be traveling alone, accommodation priced for two was little cheaper for one. One of the major services that I’ve been using, Cathay Pacific Holidays, doesn’t even allow for single travelers to book because all their prices are worked out for parties of two.
I looked into a weeklong trip to Singapore and Kuala Lumpur. Hotel and flight alone would have cost me $700 USD. For just $300 dollars more, I could have brought along two more people. So in the end, I decided that in order to spend money in a more sensible manner, I would postpone these trips indefinitely. After all, I’m most definitely coming back to East Asia sometime.
The Penultimate Capital, Part 1
The Eighteen-Hour Train Ride
Nanjing Massacre Memorial Hall (侵華日軍南京大屠殺遇難同胞紀念館)
Purple Mountain (紫金山)
Thursday, December 10, 2009
Class, Decorum, and Americans
Despite what anyone tells you, Americans are not the rudest nor the loudest of them all. This point was proven to me the other day over a bowl of congee. I’ll try to speak tastefully, but this may be my one post to be frank without letting it all go.
My friend from Scotland told me a couple months ago that she’s never met a mean Californian. Aww, that’s nice, was around the lines of what I replied. I mean, I know the Californians as I know them—and as with any group of people, the subset who study abroad aren’t exactly the average lot if you know what I’m saying. That’s not to say that I’m tooting my own horn, nor are all of the exchange students here like perfect little angels or at least sponges ready to learn about more than academics—because they’re not.
Despite what a lot of people think, Americans are much more reserved than the media would have us believe—scratch that Californians are much more reserved than the media would have us believe. Either way, there’s a bit of a caveat—we’re only reserved around people we know.
In the imagined nation that is the community of the United States of America, we don’t know each and every one of each other, of course—but what we do know, is a rough set of social norms that translate into etiquette and decorum at the personal level. In this sense, it’s easier to be more open off the get-go with people of your own roots and than with others.
I was in Global Lounge with two of my friends. One was studying for her Mandarin self-introduction presentation that afternoon, for which she felt she needed more practice on if I’m not mistaken. Her classmate sat down on the cushy chair near us and recognized my two friends. One she knew from Mandarin class, the other she know as a fellow Australian. She made a point about being able to let her tongue loose around other Australians. She said Americans got a little wide-eyed when she let out an F word or two around them. I said it was because you need to get to know people first to see if cursing offends them or not.
And on the bowl of congee, if you’ve ever seen congee, you’ll know what else it looks like. Congee also happens to be the popular breakfast food of Hong Kong. One of my friends over dinner decided that she was going to speak her mind about what she thought it looked like. I thought it was a rude comment. She thought nothing of it.
My friend from Scotland told me a couple months ago that she’s never met a mean Californian. Aww, that’s nice, was around the lines of what I replied. I mean, I know the Californians as I know them—and as with any group of people, the subset who study abroad aren’t exactly the average lot if you know what I’m saying. That’s not to say that I’m tooting my own horn, nor are all of the exchange students here like perfect little angels or at least sponges ready to learn about more than academics—because they’re not.
Despite what a lot of people think, Americans are much more reserved than the media would have us believe—scratch that Californians are much more reserved than the media would have us believe. Either way, there’s a bit of a caveat—we’re only reserved around people we know.
In the imagined nation that is the community of the United States of America, we don’t know each and every one of each other, of course—but what we do know, is a rough set of social norms that translate into etiquette and decorum at the personal level. In this sense, it’s easier to be more open off the get-go with people of your own roots and than with others.
I was in Global Lounge with two of my friends. One was studying for her Mandarin self-introduction presentation that afternoon, for which she felt she needed more practice on if I’m not mistaken. Her classmate sat down on the cushy chair near us and recognized my two friends. One she knew from Mandarin class, the other she know as a fellow Australian. She made a point about being able to let her tongue loose around other Australians. She said Americans got a little wide-eyed when she let out an F word or two around them. I said it was because you need to get to know people first to see if cursing offends them or not.
And on the bowl of congee, if you’ve ever seen congee, you’ll know what else it looks like. Congee also happens to be the popular breakfast food of Hong Kong. One of my friends over dinner decided that she was going to speak her mind about what she thought it looked like. I thought it was a rude comment. She thought nothing of it.
Nanjing: 300,000 at the Gate of China
After freshening up at the hotel for a bit, it was only 3:00 PM, so we decided to get a bit of sightseeing in. The major thing that Nanjing is know for outside China is the Rape of Nanking as termed in American history textbooks, now seemingly recognized properly at the Nanjing Massacre.
To this effect, we went to the appropriate memorial, named the Memorial for Compatriots Killed in the Nanjing Massacre by Japanese Forces of Aggression (侵華日軍南京大屠殺遇難同胞紀念館/侵华日军南京大屠杀遇难同胞纪念馆) after eating at a western restaurant. The food was quite good, there was just too much of it, so we ended up overeating.
The whole memorial was quite somber, as it was designed. The memorial was designed on a black and charcoal gray template, with the death toll on a cross made purposefully dirty juxtaposed with walls across a gray-pebble courtyard (evocative of Zen gardens) from the museum.
One point popped into the back of my head. It probably would have just gone away if my friend didn’t say anything about it. This memorial wasn’t built over any sort of ruins. The museum had fake ruins adorning the materials about the conflict and in no way was this site more historical than the rest of Nanjing.
This friend happened to have seen some of the major holocaust sites in Germany. She said that the Nanjing Massacre Memorial lacked the same authentic feel that Dauchau concentration camp did. I could see her point, but being that most of the museums that I’ve been to in the United States have been built on nothing more than their foundations of concrete and steel, this fact didn’t irk me.
The museum was more informative than anything else. Everything stated was presented as fact, and though the words “Japanese Invaders” were used more than once (or twice), artifacts from the conflict seemed to be displayed in a very impartial manner (though at the same time it was quite clear what country you were in).
It made me realize how much about Asia, and for that matter the world outside Anglophone North America and Europe I don’t know. I construe it as a simple statement on our Eurocentric public educations. I remember that in sophomore year of high school, the state set up a curriculum based on “World History,” but with our class being European History Advanced Placement, we were going to wait until after the AP test in May to cover the rest of the world. Thought it seemed to be a daunting task, covering the rest of the world in less than a month, we failed to accomplish anything at all. Instead, we watched Monty Python and the Holy Grail as well as Forrest Gump.
I do understand that in comparison with the eleven million people (six million Jews) that the Nazis killed, a simple 300,000 doesn’t seem like much by the Imperialist Japanese. The fact of the matter is though that 300,000 people make up still 300,000 lives, each one precious in its own regard.
To make matters special, whereas Germany likes to distance itself from its Nazi past, it is highly questionable whether Japan cares to do the same. Maybe 300,000 is a high estimate; “impartial” observers estimate 260,000; but Japanese historians head down to 100,000. I suppose the number isn’t important, but some Japanese officials say that all the deaths were military-related and that no war crimes occurred (being that you aren’t to target civilians nor attack when civilians are known to be present). Former Japanese Prime Minister Junichiro Koizumi decided to go pay respect to the Japanese memorial honoring their fallen soldiers in the conflict.
The fact of the matter was that Japan was clearly the one that violated the well-established international law principle of territorial sovereignty, and in doing so continued to murder innocent civilians. I don’t hold anything against the Japan of today, because what’s past is the history. And though you are supposed to learn from your mistakes, I well understand many Chinese people’s anti-Japanese sentiment.
I suppose in some ways I’m a product of the whole conflict. Had Japan as well as Germany not started their courses in history in World War II, I, James Philip Jee, as I know myself would not be here today. People like to take guesses at my families’ histories. In Guilin, one American tourist decided to guess without solicitation that I have relatives who moved to the United States to build the railroads. Almost everybody assumes that having parents that are Chinese (meaning ethnicity) means that you can speak Chinese. To them it makes so much sense when I say that my mother’s from Hong Kong yet so much humor when I say my father’s from Detroit.
Because my parents didn’t meet in China, I don’t say my family’s from China, though I am proud of my Chinese heritage. In fact, my father’s never been outside of North America, so to say so would be an inaccuracy. If the conflict never started, would my mother’s parents have moved from Hangzhou? Would I have a much different set of relatives? Would I even exist? Could I be an only child?
Though my circumstances are rooted in a history so ugly, I guess I can say that thanks to my parents I have reestablished my roots in a way that they never would have predicted. In a way, I like to think that no one predicted it would come out this way.
I understand that I am one privileged individual. While I wouldn’t call myself filthy rich, I understand my circumstances well as being well, and it bothers me to see wastefulness in life and in spending.
So there is a reason I went to visit Nanjing, and it’s fitting in a way that it happened to be my last trip out of Hong Kong before my time here. Never should I forget where my past lives have been lived out, never should any one forget the horrors that we people have placed each other under.
I’ve come to appreciate my roots for my culture and my heritage for my traditions. I’ve come to respect my nation as something to subscribe to and my state as something to rely on, and though immigration regulations places restrictions where people are allowed to reside and work (which most notably means that certain places are more prosperous than others), we are all ultimately people, and the future of who we are and where we are lies nowhere else than with us.
To this effect, we went to the appropriate memorial, named the Memorial for Compatriots Killed in the Nanjing Massacre by Japanese Forces of Aggression (侵華日軍南京大屠殺遇難同胞紀念館/侵华日军南京大屠杀遇难同胞纪念馆) after eating at a western restaurant. The food was quite good, there was just too much of it, so we ended up overeating.
The whole memorial was quite somber, as it was designed. The memorial was designed on a black and charcoal gray template, with the death toll on a cross made purposefully dirty juxtaposed with walls across a gray-pebble courtyard (evocative of Zen gardens) from the museum.
One point popped into the back of my head. It probably would have just gone away if my friend didn’t say anything about it. This memorial wasn’t built over any sort of ruins. The museum had fake ruins adorning the materials about the conflict and in no way was this site more historical than the rest of Nanjing.
This friend happened to have seen some of the major holocaust sites in Germany. She said that the Nanjing Massacre Memorial lacked the same authentic feel that Dauchau concentration camp did. I could see her point, but being that most of the museums that I’ve been to in the United States have been built on nothing more than their foundations of concrete and steel, this fact didn’t irk me.
The museum was more informative than anything else. Everything stated was presented as fact, and though the words “Japanese Invaders” were used more than once (or twice), artifacts from the conflict seemed to be displayed in a very impartial manner (though at the same time it was quite clear what country you were in).
It made me realize how much about Asia, and for that matter the world outside Anglophone North America and Europe I don’t know. I construe it as a simple statement on our Eurocentric public educations. I remember that in sophomore year of high school, the state set up a curriculum based on “World History,” but with our class being European History Advanced Placement, we were going to wait until after the AP test in May to cover the rest of the world. Thought it seemed to be a daunting task, covering the rest of the world in less than a month, we failed to accomplish anything at all. Instead, we watched Monty Python and the Holy Grail as well as Forrest Gump.
I do understand that in comparison with the eleven million people (six million Jews) that the Nazis killed, a simple 300,000 doesn’t seem like much by the Imperialist Japanese. The fact of the matter is though that 300,000 people make up still 300,000 lives, each one precious in its own regard.
To make matters special, whereas Germany likes to distance itself from its Nazi past, it is highly questionable whether Japan cares to do the same. Maybe 300,000 is a high estimate; “impartial” observers estimate 260,000; but Japanese historians head down to 100,000. I suppose the number isn’t important, but some Japanese officials say that all the deaths were military-related and that no war crimes occurred (being that you aren’t to target civilians nor attack when civilians are known to be present). Former Japanese Prime Minister Junichiro Koizumi decided to go pay respect to the Japanese memorial honoring their fallen soldiers in the conflict.
The fact of the matter was that Japan was clearly the one that violated the well-established international law principle of territorial sovereignty, and in doing so continued to murder innocent civilians. I don’t hold anything against the Japan of today, because what’s past is the history. And though you are supposed to learn from your mistakes, I well understand many Chinese people’s anti-Japanese sentiment.
I suppose in some ways I’m a product of the whole conflict. Had Japan as well as Germany not started their courses in history in World War II, I, James Philip Jee, as I know myself would not be here today. People like to take guesses at my families’ histories. In Guilin, one American tourist decided to guess without solicitation that I have relatives who moved to the United States to build the railroads. Almost everybody assumes that having parents that are Chinese (meaning ethnicity) means that you can speak Chinese. To them it makes so much sense when I say that my mother’s from Hong Kong yet so much humor when I say my father’s from Detroit.
Because my parents didn’t meet in China, I don’t say my family’s from China, though I am proud of my Chinese heritage. In fact, my father’s never been outside of North America, so to say so would be an inaccuracy. If the conflict never started, would my mother’s parents have moved from Hangzhou? Would I have a much different set of relatives? Would I even exist? Could I be an only child?
Though my circumstances are rooted in a history so ugly, I guess I can say that thanks to my parents I have reestablished my roots in a way that they never would have predicted. In a way, I like to think that no one predicted it would come out this way.
I understand that I am one privileged individual. While I wouldn’t call myself filthy rich, I understand my circumstances well as being well, and it bothers me to see wastefulness in life and in spending.
So there is a reason I went to visit Nanjing, and it’s fitting in a way that it happened to be my last trip out of Hong Kong before my time here. Never should I forget where my past lives have been lived out, never should any one forget the horrors that we people have placed each other under.
I’ve come to appreciate my roots for my culture and my heritage for my traditions. I’ve come to respect my nation as something to subscribe to and my state as something to rely on, and though immigration regulations places restrictions where people are allowed to reside and work (which most notably means that certain places are more prosperous than others), we are all ultimately people, and the future of who we are and where we are lies nowhere else than with us.
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
Chicken Feet, Shrimp Heads, and an Open Mind
I suppose if you grew up with it, it wouldn’t be so odd. In some ways, I guess I’m a picky eater. Studying abroad though and seeing how other international students deal with these differences allows me to better see how I fall into line. I can now say that I’m more open than others to different foods, though I admit there is some stuff that I would rather not go near.
A few weeks ago, my group of friends and I went to Queen Mary across the street. Yeah, it’s a hospital, but compared to Bayview Restaurant in the basement of Lee Hysan Hall, the canteen of Queen Mary Hospital is absolutely gourmet. Oh, and we get discounts there because Queen Mary also happens to be the teaching hospital of the University of Hong Kong Li Ka Shing Faculty of Medicine (HKU Med School).
I’m a bit partial to the barbecue pork with rice that they have. When I go days without it, I begin missing it, and then when I order it, I realize that I don’t really care for it. I always ask for less rice (in Cantonese, of course), so instead of getting three portions of rice, I get about two (which I still don’t finish). That meal all comes out at like $16-17 HKD, which is like two bucks USD, so it’s well worth it. This meal also comes with a few stalks of Gai Lan (芥蘭/芥兰), which I used to mistaken for Bak Choy (白菜) until I was reminded that the vegetable before us is stalky, whereas Bak Choy grows in the same leafy manner as cabbage.
Now, I don’t eat Gai Lan at home, though I’ve seen it sold at the Chinese supermarkets. When I’m with my family, we tend to more often go along the lines of broccoli, Napa cabbage, and cauliflower. (Mom and Dad, if you guys are reading this I like the first two better than the third.) Here though, Gai Lan’s nickname “Chinese broccoli” becomes apparent as it’s served as the main vegetable to go with any meal that comes with a vegetable.
If you thought my mix-up was bad, my friend from northern Europe couldn’t tell what the vegetable was, so instead of assuming it was a vegetable he had never seen before, he decided that they must cook their vegetables funny here to get it to look that way and taste so different. I took it upon myself to set this logic straight and inform him clearly that this is a different vegetable.
At a different time, last week to be precise, I was having dim sum with my Cantonese classmates. In addition to this being a prime opportunity to practice our Cantonese, we also used it to try new foods. As such, we ordered chicken feet. (Unlike in the old days and at Chinatowns, most dim sum places in Hong Kong have you order food off a menu rather than pointing and choosing off of the 點心車/点心车 dim sum carts). At our table of ten, we ordered to share, splitting the bill evenly in the end.
Well, the food came and I made my stomach happy with the regulars like Haa Gau (蝦餃/虾饺) and Siu Mai (燒賣/烧卖) as well as the crowd-pleasing Cha Siu Bau (叉燒包). We went ahead and tried Taro Dumplings (芋頭角/芋头角) and Taro Cake (芋頭糕/芋头糕) , but when the Chicken Feet (鳳爪/凤爪) came out (literally Phoenix Claws), I couldn’t try it. I would have tried, but my stomach was well full, and trying new food, especially something I wasn’t sure whether or not would sit well, wasn’t a good idea. That was my excuse and I’m sticking to it.
By the others though, I was told that it’s basically just skin and fat, so I didn’t feel I was missing out on much. One of my friends at the table though was a seasoned chicken feet consumer. She could put the whole foot in her mouth and get all the edible parts off without hands, pushing the bones to one side of her mouth and when it was all said and consumed, she would spit out the foot bones onto her plate. It was impressive if not a little off-putting.
The one thing that just completely makes me feel sick is shrimp with heads and shells still on. I can de-shell them without making a fuss, but I dislike doing it while I’m eating.
I was informed though at a meal in Temple Street (廟街/庙街) near Mongkok (旺角) that they don’t de-shell because the shrimp are fresh (in addition to the fact that it’s a lot of work to peel shrimp). They quite literally pull the critters out of the tanks linking their storefronts and put them into boiling liquid. This means that they’re super fresh and that there’s no time to de-shell them.
Most people don’t eat the shell. A friend of mine who’s originally from Taishan, Guangdong, (台山, 廣東/广东) told me that you only eat the shell if it’s deep-fried. That way the shell is crunchy and enjoyable rather than fishy and unbearable. I tried it, and though it wasn’t fishy, it wasn’t exactly my cup of tea either.
At this fresh seafood restaurant, I witnessed something I doubt I’ll ever see again. He and another friend could and would put the entire cooked shrimp in their mouth and de-shell and de-head it within their mouths, spitting out the refuse politely onto their plates. It was starting to say the least, though most impressive. Never will you find me putting a shrimp head into my mouth.
The bottom line is that I don’t try everything, nor am I really expected to. I think that what’s really important is to maintain an open mind about different foods. This means that even if you don’t try it, you at least shouldn’t talk about it subjectively with objective terms. Better yet, don’t show any disgust that you may be harboring.
Balut (毛蛋 in Chinese) is a Southeast Asian delicacy that National Geographic taught me about. Over the years, I have found that many of my friends enjoy this food, and though I’ve never tried it, I maintain my doubts as to whether I’d actually like it personally.
For those who don’t know, Balut is a fertilized, partially developed duck egg. If I remember correctly, they boil the egg right before parts of the body such as the bill harden, yet it’s not like a hardboiled egg either. It’s runny, and it’s eaten fetus, yolk and all.
A friend of mine here whose parents are from Vietnam likes Balut a lot. On one episode of Fear Factor, contestants had to eat some as part of a competition and she said that she should have been there, because she totally would have won that competition.
Another friend raised ethical concerns about eating a fetus, which I thought were not necessarily irrelevant but rather illogical. I think that the only people who can argue against eating Balut are those who eat neither eggs nor meat, in which case they could say that eating such is unethical. The difference to me between eating an animal or a fetus of the same animal deals nothing with ethics. (In that sense, you can’t argue that you don’t eat human babies for that would imply that you’re a cannibal) I’ve seen how factories keep chickens cooped up in their own waste, lacking the space to turn around, and how pigs get their teeth removed from them forcefully and obviously without anesthetic when they are still young.
Though I’m not to keen on eating fetuses, I see little moral dilemma in the issue. Instead, I personally have concerns about whether I would like the texture of the item, seeing as it’s a whole undeveloped animal with extras.
A few weeks ago, my group of friends and I went to Queen Mary across the street. Yeah, it’s a hospital, but compared to Bayview Restaurant in the basement of Lee Hysan Hall, the canteen of Queen Mary Hospital is absolutely gourmet. Oh, and we get discounts there because Queen Mary also happens to be the teaching hospital of the University of Hong Kong Li Ka Shing Faculty of Medicine (HKU Med School).
I’m a bit partial to the barbecue pork with rice that they have. When I go days without it, I begin missing it, and then when I order it, I realize that I don’t really care for it. I always ask for less rice (in Cantonese, of course), so instead of getting three portions of rice, I get about two (which I still don’t finish). That meal all comes out at like $16-17 HKD, which is like two bucks USD, so it’s well worth it. This meal also comes with a few stalks of Gai Lan (芥蘭/芥兰), which I used to mistaken for Bak Choy (白菜) until I was reminded that the vegetable before us is stalky, whereas Bak Choy grows in the same leafy manner as cabbage.
Now, I don’t eat Gai Lan at home, though I’ve seen it sold at the Chinese supermarkets. When I’m with my family, we tend to more often go along the lines of broccoli, Napa cabbage, and cauliflower. (Mom and Dad, if you guys are reading this I like the first two better than the third.) Here though, Gai Lan’s nickname “Chinese broccoli” becomes apparent as it’s served as the main vegetable to go with any meal that comes with a vegetable.
If you thought my mix-up was bad, my friend from northern Europe couldn’t tell what the vegetable was, so instead of assuming it was a vegetable he had never seen before, he decided that they must cook their vegetables funny here to get it to look that way and taste so different. I took it upon myself to set this logic straight and inform him clearly that this is a different vegetable.
At a different time, last week to be precise, I was having dim sum with my Cantonese classmates. In addition to this being a prime opportunity to practice our Cantonese, we also used it to try new foods. As such, we ordered chicken feet. (Unlike in the old days and at Chinatowns, most dim sum places in Hong Kong have you order food off a menu rather than pointing and choosing off of the 點心車/点心车 dim sum carts). At our table of ten, we ordered to share, splitting the bill evenly in the end.
Well, the food came and I made my stomach happy with the regulars like Haa Gau (蝦餃/虾饺) and Siu Mai (燒賣/烧卖) as well as the crowd-pleasing Cha Siu Bau (叉燒包). We went ahead and tried Taro Dumplings (芋頭角/芋头角) and Taro Cake (芋頭糕/芋头糕) , but when the Chicken Feet (鳳爪/凤爪) came out (literally Phoenix Claws), I couldn’t try it. I would have tried, but my stomach was well full, and trying new food, especially something I wasn’t sure whether or not would sit well, wasn’t a good idea. That was my excuse and I’m sticking to it.
By the others though, I was told that it’s basically just skin and fat, so I didn’t feel I was missing out on much. One of my friends at the table though was a seasoned chicken feet consumer. She could put the whole foot in her mouth and get all the edible parts off without hands, pushing the bones to one side of her mouth and when it was all said and consumed, she would spit out the foot bones onto her plate. It was impressive if not a little off-putting.
The one thing that just completely makes me feel sick is shrimp with heads and shells still on. I can de-shell them without making a fuss, but I dislike doing it while I’m eating.
I was informed though at a meal in Temple Street (廟街/庙街) near Mongkok (旺角) that they don’t de-shell because the shrimp are fresh (in addition to the fact that it’s a lot of work to peel shrimp). They quite literally pull the critters out of the tanks linking their storefronts and put them into boiling liquid. This means that they’re super fresh and that there’s no time to de-shell them.
Most people don’t eat the shell. A friend of mine who’s originally from Taishan, Guangdong, (台山, 廣東/广东) told me that you only eat the shell if it’s deep-fried. That way the shell is crunchy and enjoyable rather than fishy and unbearable. I tried it, and though it wasn’t fishy, it wasn’t exactly my cup of tea either.
At this fresh seafood restaurant, I witnessed something I doubt I’ll ever see again. He and another friend could and would put the entire cooked shrimp in their mouth and de-shell and de-head it within their mouths, spitting out the refuse politely onto their plates. It was starting to say the least, though most impressive. Never will you find me putting a shrimp head into my mouth.
The bottom line is that I don’t try everything, nor am I really expected to. I think that what’s really important is to maintain an open mind about different foods. This means that even if you don’t try it, you at least shouldn’t talk about it subjectively with objective terms. Better yet, don’t show any disgust that you may be harboring.
Balut (毛蛋 in Chinese) is a Southeast Asian delicacy that National Geographic taught me about. Over the years, I have found that many of my friends enjoy this food, and though I’ve never tried it, I maintain my doubts as to whether I’d actually like it personally.
For those who don’t know, Balut is a fertilized, partially developed duck egg. If I remember correctly, they boil the egg right before parts of the body such as the bill harden, yet it’s not like a hardboiled egg either. It’s runny, and it’s eaten fetus, yolk and all.
A friend of mine here whose parents are from Vietnam likes Balut a lot. On one episode of Fear Factor, contestants had to eat some as part of a competition and she said that she should have been there, because she totally would have won that competition.
Another friend raised ethical concerns about eating a fetus, which I thought were not necessarily irrelevant but rather illogical. I think that the only people who can argue against eating Balut are those who eat neither eggs nor meat, in which case they could say that eating such is unethical. The difference to me between eating an animal or a fetus of the same animal deals nothing with ethics. (In that sense, you can’t argue that you don’t eat human babies for that would imply that you’re a cannibal) I’ve seen how factories keep chickens cooped up in their own waste, lacking the space to turn around, and how pigs get their teeth removed from them forcefully and obviously without anesthetic when they are still young.
Though I’m not to keen on eating fetuses, I see little moral dilemma in the issue. Instead, I personally have concerns about whether I would like the texture of the item, seeing as it’s a whole undeveloped animal with extras.
Class Roundup: Chinese Society
Traditional Chinese Society ended yesterday, with my first final during finals week(s) and my fourth final overall. Being my first one during finals it was officiated in an authoritarian manner that I’m only used to for standardized tests. The professor had the exams on our desks when we came in then read verbatim off of an instruction sheet provided to him by the university. I know that it was provided to him because he laughed when he read aloud that you are allowed to have calculators out (since the only number we dealt with was the number of souls that a person has).
Out our class of twelve, I was given seat number twelve. For the large classroom, we were all squished onto the left side rather than spread out over the room, as would have been sensible from an administrator’s standpoint.
After we were read out loud the directions, the professor, who already had us down by name, seeing that he taught all the tutorials and the class was really small, had to verify all of our identities by means of our student identification cards.
I didn’t think the final examination was too hard. To study, I did all the readings again and went over our class discussions of the topics—both those online and those in the classroom. He specifically said not to stress specific details—so I didn’t.
We were given seven questions based on various topics that we covered in class and we had two hours to answer two of those questions in an extended in-class essay format. And I feel I answered those two questions well and completely, despite the fact that I was the first to finish. (I usually finish somewhere in the middle, though the fact that I finished first may be because I was the only native English speaker in the class.) We’ll see how I did.
Other assessments for this class included the weekly journal, online discussions, and project.
The weekly journal entries only had to be two hundred words long each, and I usually went past that. Many of my classmates, realizing that you can’t really say much in two hundred words went well over four times that. This blog has already added up to over one hundred thousand words, so I’ll attest to the fact that you can’t say much in two hundred words. We were to write on the topic of traditional Chinese society that we were covering that week. Whereas other classmates treated the entries as anthropological research assignments, I did less of that and instead had personal reflections on the topics. Often, I would through in the line or two about how I feel we’re exoticizing the subject too much, but I’ve talked about that a lot already.
The online discussions I contributed to more often than not. Some people had contributions several times a week. It was also apparent that some people had not contributed once to the discussions. I always tried to interact with other students on these online discussions rather than only summarizing articles as was prevalent at the beginning of the semester.
I can’t remember if I talked about the term project, but it consisted of a two thousand-word (field) research paper accompanied by a presentation to be made during tutorial. On the syllabus, it said that it was due week seven. To that effect, I got it done before the week seven tutorial, ready to present. I was the only one in the tutorial that had anything to show, not that the professor was expecting it. That week he decided to schedule in everybody’s presentations, and when it came to me, I asked if I could do it that day, since it was already done. He (reluctantly) said yes and I got it over with—meaning that I unintentionally lectured for forty minutes.
My topic was on the (Christian) religious beliefs of HKU students. My sample size was small, as he only required about ten interviews. Overall, my results fell in line with Hong Kong SAR statistics. I noted that I didn’t encounter as many self-described Christians as I imagined. My professor made the note (that I didn’t see) that the number of self-described Buddhists was higher at HKU than in Hong Kong SAR statistics. I felt that my report was well-researched and well-written.
On a different note about the same class, I’m planning on petitioning to have this course qualify for my minor in the Study of Religion for my degree back at UCSD. The undergraduate advisor told me I couldn’t because nothing in the syllabus mentioned directly “religion,” so I had to rebut by saying that religion in the modern, scholarly sense ultimately refers to one’s overall view on the world and what things are significant and how those things are significant. In addition, there is a class called “Chinese Society” at UCSD that has the same course description as the course I was about to take, and it happens to fulfill the requirement without petition. She then forwarded my request for preapproval to the director or the program, who decided that I did have a case and that I did receive preapproval. So hopefully everything falls in line.
Out our class of twelve, I was given seat number twelve. For the large classroom, we were all squished onto the left side rather than spread out over the room, as would have been sensible from an administrator’s standpoint.
After we were read out loud the directions, the professor, who already had us down by name, seeing that he taught all the tutorials and the class was really small, had to verify all of our identities by means of our student identification cards.
I didn’t think the final examination was too hard. To study, I did all the readings again and went over our class discussions of the topics—both those online and those in the classroom. He specifically said not to stress specific details—so I didn’t.
We were given seven questions based on various topics that we covered in class and we had two hours to answer two of those questions in an extended in-class essay format. And I feel I answered those two questions well and completely, despite the fact that I was the first to finish. (I usually finish somewhere in the middle, though the fact that I finished first may be because I was the only native English speaker in the class.) We’ll see how I did.
Other assessments for this class included the weekly journal, online discussions, and project.
The weekly journal entries only had to be two hundred words long each, and I usually went past that. Many of my classmates, realizing that you can’t really say much in two hundred words went well over four times that. This blog has already added up to over one hundred thousand words, so I’ll attest to the fact that you can’t say much in two hundred words. We were to write on the topic of traditional Chinese society that we were covering that week. Whereas other classmates treated the entries as anthropological research assignments, I did less of that and instead had personal reflections on the topics. Often, I would through in the line or two about how I feel we’re exoticizing the subject too much, but I’ve talked about that a lot already.
The online discussions I contributed to more often than not. Some people had contributions several times a week. It was also apparent that some people had not contributed once to the discussions. I always tried to interact with other students on these online discussions rather than only summarizing articles as was prevalent at the beginning of the semester.
I can’t remember if I talked about the term project, but it consisted of a two thousand-word (field) research paper accompanied by a presentation to be made during tutorial. On the syllabus, it said that it was due week seven. To that effect, I got it done before the week seven tutorial, ready to present. I was the only one in the tutorial that had anything to show, not that the professor was expecting it. That week he decided to schedule in everybody’s presentations, and when it came to me, I asked if I could do it that day, since it was already done. He (reluctantly) said yes and I got it over with—meaning that I unintentionally lectured for forty minutes.
My topic was on the (Christian) religious beliefs of HKU students. My sample size was small, as he only required about ten interviews. Overall, my results fell in line with Hong Kong SAR statistics. I noted that I didn’t encounter as many self-described Christians as I imagined. My professor made the note (that I didn’t see) that the number of self-described Buddhists was higher at HKU than in Hong Kong SAR statistics. I felt that my report was well-researched and well-written.
On a different note about the same class, I’m planning on petitioning to have this course qualify for my minor in the Study of Religion for my degree back at UCSD. The undergraduate advisor told me I couldn’t because nothing in the syllabus mentioned directly “religion,” so I had to rebut by saying that religion in the modern, scholarly sense ultimately refers to one’s overall view on the world and what things are significant and how those things are significant. In addition, there is a class called “Chinese Society” at UCSD that has the same course description as the course I was about to take, and it happens to fulfill the requirement without petition. She then forwarded my request for preapproval to the director or the program, who decided that I did have a case and that I did receive preapproval. So hopefully everything falls in line.
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
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