Horse, horse, tiger, tiger

...Which is pronounced mama huhu, and actually means "so-so."

Don't ask.

I've been meaning to do a post on learning Chinese for a while. We get free evening classes, which is generous and cool. How useful they are is an object of debate. There seem to be many problems associated with studying Chinese: the pinyn, which means getting used to sounds not corresponding to letters, and some sounds being almost unpronounceable anyway. As in zh and c being pronounced respectively zd (sort of) and ts. But don't quote me on this. Then there are the tones. Why a language thought it made sense to evolve with tones is beyond me. It looks like some divine curse. But they're there, and need to be practiced and learned, at least a bit. Then there's the writing, obviously, without even the comfort of Japanese kana (incidentally, when I studied Hebrew, and proferred the sentence "if I ever take another language, it will have the Roman alphabet",  if there is a God or some other superior entity he must have laughed very loudly).

However, the classes supply some basis, even if it's not ideal, especially as I've never been a champion of self-discipline and pure self-study doesn't work for me. I've also discovered a neat trick. The laoshe (teacher) you have a total of three hours a week is not the only laoshe you have. There are scores of them. Cleaning ladies and repairmen talk to me, I repeat stuff like a kid, sometimes guess and infer meanings. I point at fruit and vegetables at the market and the sellers say the names (except one lady who wants to practice her English--that's unfair!). People talk to each other, say hello, good bye, how are you with perfect tones, obviously. Anyone can be your teacher (for  little orfree, or sometimes providing additional services) and the world your language classroom.

Go tell it on the (pointy) mountain

The view from the point of the Pointy Mountain

The landmark of my present place of residence is a pointy mountain. It was shrouded in mist and rain for most of my first month here, but now that it's sunny it's very visible in all its pointy, greenery-covered glory. The Pointy Mountain has convenient steps (two hundred of them, I believe, going up it felt more like two thousand), which make it uninteresting to some people, for some reason. Ok, it's not something to endeavour if you have knee issues, but otherwise? I'd say it was worth it.

Yesterday I made my  ascent of the Pointy Mountain, along with about one million Chinese people. The weather was great and it definitely felt like exercise. To get to the foot of the mountain you need to take walk in the Chinese countryside. As in, really countryside. Think goat herds and chickens wondering about, and people washing clothes and vegetables in ponds. Villages that feel like they're cut away from the world.

I remember reading a sentence about Mt. Fuji, that a wise man climbs it once, a fool twice. I have the impression the same applies to the Pointy Mountain, for those who land in this particular neck of the wood. It feels like I've ticked a case. I'm a wise woman now, and I'll try to keep it that way.

Spring is in the air

Spring in the 'hood

When I arrived on Valentine's day, it felt like bleak midwinter. There were occasional sunny spells, but otherwise, it got dark early and it was gloomy and rainy most of the time. Things have changed dramatically and abruptly in slightly more than a month. Temperatures soared to the mid 20s C (which feels a bit weird for the middle of March), trees are blossoming, days are stretching. You can actually see the pretty mountains that encircle the city on a regular basis. Ok, the weather is still kind of crazy, with equally abrupt changes for the worse, like yesterday, which felt like winter all over again. More importantly, at times it's still chilly inside (I know I'm sounding like a broken record, but this has got to be the single most traumatic instance of culture shock I experienced). But things are starting to look prettier, and you can truly appreciate the efforts Ginsengians are making with greenery.
Spring also brings its usual side effect, i.e. spring fatigue (doubled with cultural shock fatigue, which even according to the internet is A Thing). It also brings that non-descript feeling of wanting to romp outside, or sit under a tree with a book when you should be working

The Expat's Chinese cookbook

Food is going to be a recurring theme here. After all, I like reading about it, cooking it, and of course eating it. It's also unavoidably an issue for anyone making a prolonged stay in China--no matter how flexible your tastes and how open to new culinary experiences you might be.

I think I already mentioned I don't want to always eat out, in spite of there being plentiful and cheap restaurants and cafeterias. But cooking remains an experience which, for lack of a better word is "random". Forget about meticoulously following recipes, improvisation is the key here. So I'm sharing two recent concoctions which proved to be edible:

1) Noodles with egg à la Francesca:

Boil rice noodles. Drain and return to the hot stove. Add an egg. Add a vegetable of your choice. Saute briefly with cooking oil. Season with soy sauce. Scrape the wok.

2) Egg noodles with tofu à la Francesca:

Boil egg noodles (these come in a roundish "nest" shape and take more time to soften up). Drain and return to the hot stove  Add firm tofu cut into slices. Saute briefly with cooking oil. Season with soy sauce. Scrape the wok.

Tofu is a whole world in itself. There is even smoked tofu which looks and smells (unfortunately does not taste) like scamorza cheese. It also seems to be doing the job cheese does, as concerns calcium and protein intake.

I still haven't turned into some kind of zombie muttering "dairy..." instead of "brains..." so far. I got New Zealand cheddar from the Russian lady, as well as bread, which I'm missing more than I thought I would (I'm not a massive bread eater). I'm sure that my adventures in feeding myself and cooking with the local fare are not over.

Shaoxing

Last week end, I had my first week end trip (not so bad since I've been here less than a month). I went to Shaoxing, a town which gets described in websites as a "hotbed of Chinese culture." The modern part of Shaoxing isn't massively different from Gin Tonic, though possibly it has a prettier city centre with tree-lined alleys, more stores and even messier traffic. I spent a lot of time in a mall browsing the sales. Chinese fashion doesn't become me entirely, I've noticed. I like bright colours but these are a bit excessive for me, or just look weird with my complexion. The Chinese seem also very fond of "cutesy" details, so it's virtually impossible, for instance, to find a shirt which doesn't have a frilly collar.

The main thing about Shaoxing, however, was not the mall obviously but the historical part. The complex of houses where Lu Xun was born and raised is apparently a remarkably well preserved example of Qing architecture. It's China As You Imagine It, which I was pleased as punch to have finally encountered.

I learned a lot of stuff about Lu Xun (I was just vaguely aware of his name before that). His family was well off (as you can see from this  kind of  environment) but decayed, and he had a cool grandma who taught herself to read and told him stories. i promptly downloaded Lu Xun's stories on my kindle. As with Japanese literature sometimes, the reaction is "I'm glad this writer is supposed to be Westernized, I don't want to think what a non-Westernized writer would look like!).
The one drawback of this place is that, perhaps unavoidably, it's a bit touristy. As usual, perhaps, the Real is Fake, or the other way round. The stores were pretty regular Chinatown fare. I will have to wait to get to Hangzhou or Shangai to buy some Chinese stuff (tm).

The old town, and more of the market

The feeling of walking around with some kind of mild concussion is gradually fading away, at least some occasional WTH?! moment brings me back to it.

The first thing is that, thanks to the "old hands" I've been meeting, I've finally seen some "Chinese stuff." You might argue that ALL what I see is Chinese stuff, what was I expecting, men with queues? But I've been to the old town of Gin Tonic, which is not enormous but has its share of wooden doors, narrow alleys, slanted roofs and vendors selling assorted Three Kingdoms and Mao memorabilia. Very cool.

I've also been exploring more of the market. It's a slow learning process. Apart from all vegetables known to man, you can find a stall with lots of different varieties of tofu, and eggs sold by weight. The perks of being in a backwater of sort is that you can get fresh stuff from the local farmers, basically everything is a "locovore" plan. Meat, also sold in stalls, is primarily chicken and pork. The chicken looks weird, pork slightly less so but I never buy pork at home, so buying it at the butcher's, with the language barrier, is definitely daunting. As far as cooking at home is concerned, I have thus resolved to be a vegetarian, getting proteins from tofu and eggs. I've also made an expedition to Walmart (a ubiquitous Chinese institution) and gotten pasta. At least it's something I can cook. Still can't use the friggin' wok. Not sure what I do wrong, but I always end up having to scrape the food off... Trouble is, imported pasta costs a fortune, especially in comparison to the ridiculous price of the local food. Therefore, Barilla has to be, well, a little luxury of sorts, I kid you not.

My flat is still chilly, but I've applied some TLC. I discovered large wall stickers, so I don't have to stare at boring old whit(ish) walls all the time, but at little flowers and birds. So purty!