Scamper from Craig Rubens on Vimeo.

I have also been busy starting a new blog, thelocalspoon.com, which was borne entirely of my love of writing the Food, Glorious Food posts for stephoandcrank. I had such a great time writing about our food exploits in China, about new recipes we tried and restaurants we loved, I figured I had to keep it going stateside — thus thelocalspoon.com! Check it out and let me know what you’d like to hear about, I’d love to get your feedback!

This video was shot over the course of our whole stay in Beijing, the first bit of which was for our newlywed friends, the Hoffmans. The Salty Dog Rag is a Dartmouth Outing Club tradition and Steph and I taught this frisky foxtrot to hundreds of incoming freshmen during the preorientation camping trips program. Interestingly, the native Beijingers and Dartmouth prefrosh had very similar looks on their faces when we first busted out our moves.

Although we didn’t go see Jackie Chan and Friends rock out at the Bird’s Nest, we did head to one of Beijing’s smaller venues to check out a concert. I surprised Steph with tickets to see French musician Yann Tiersen, best known for composing the soundtrack for Amélie, at Yugong Yishan, a small club where a mix of Chinese DJs and European rockers come through on tour.

We weren’t really sure what to expect from Tiersen live. His Amélie composition is exquisite but its soft-spoken melodies might not translate well to a live performance. Fortunately, Tiersen has far more than just melodious songs for imaginative French girls up his sleeve. Tiersen put on an extremely animated performance, alternating between manically shredding his bow on his violin and singing softly into the mic while playing toy piano.

The audience seemed to be a good mix of expats and natives. A group of French girls swayed next to us in the middle of the floor while the perimeter was lined with Chinese couples snuggling and sipping pijiu. The crowd coaxed Tiersen and crew back onto stage for a nice encore and after a few more songs he bid us adieu.

We're tourists!

In a less-painful continuation of our fitting things in before we leave China, Craig and I moved on from cupping to visiting the ever-touristy Olympic Water Cube and Bird’s Nest. We’d visited the area before but wanted to check out the Cube at night so took the short subway ride over there on a recent warm evening. Watch out if you go, apparently they turn the lights off at 10pm sharp, which we only found out after getting there at 9:50. But it was enough time to fit in as tourists and snap a few photos! Here are a few from the evening.

With just a few short days left before we pack our bags and leave China, Craig and I have been busy trying to fit in all the stops we’ve missed. Yesterday this included trying cupping, a traditional Chinese massage practice that is supposed to remove the fire from your body and improve circulation but which mostly just left us with awesome circular welts all over our backs. For some reason Crank’s are a lot more badass than mine. Unfortunately for him, apparently impressive-looking bruises aren’t what the cuppers are looking for — they kept saying “bu hao, bu hao” (not good, not good) over and over to him while they were doing the cupping. We’re still not sure exactly what “not good” means, but so far he’s doing fine, aside from looking like he was savagely beaten with a baseball.

Cupping works by heating the inside of a round glass cup and then immediately placing it on the skin. There are a few different methods of heating the cups. Our therapists lit an alcohol-soaked cotton ball on fire and waved it inside the cup, briefly, warming the air inside. As this air cools it creates a strong suction against the skin that is supposed to be good for the health (I’ve heard it does everything from remove impurities to improve circulation to pull the anger from the body). An initial cupping is done on various parts of the back, and then judging by the color that your back turns the therapist will repeat the process and leave the cups on your back for a certain amount of time. The process itself is somewhere between painful and enjoyable, but I quite liked it in the end. Another exciting adventure, and something I would certainly try again.

About a month ago we strolled carefree down the streets of Kashgar, in China’s Xinjiang province, as happy-go-lucky tourists where this week the blood of dozens might have been spilled. We wandered the poplar-lined walkways of Idgah Mosque, China’s largest, where today Chinese authorities forcibly prohibited Muslims from worshiping.

Calla Wiemer of the Far Eastern Economic Review writes an interesting, if abruptly clipped, essay on the bigger picture of the Uighurs’ discontent in Xinjiang. Ethnic unrest is nothing new in China. Tibet is perhaps the best publicized victim of systemic ethnic repression in China but by no means are the Tibetans the only oppressed ethnic minority within the People’s Republic of China. Weimer writes in her essay that “Uighurs have a hard time getting visas and licenses,” something we heard our own Uighur guides say, flatly stating that Uighurs couldn’t get visas. This is the same story we heard from our Tibetan tour guide in Lhasa who was extremely hesitant to speak about politics but did tell us that it was nearly impossible for ethnic Tibetans to get papers to leave the country.

While these recent “ethnic uprisings” have been the “bloodiest in decades” for China, they are hardly new. Similar riots erupted in the province in 1996 and the Han Chinese government has responded with similarly harsh crackdowns. Looking back at my personal journal, I noted that while we sat in Urumuqi for an hour layover en route to Kashgar I observed several military attack helicopters perched at the end of the runway, waiting.

The above picture is from our trip to Muztagh Ata at a check point where our Uighur guides were scrutinized far more than we “wai guo ren” (“foreigners”). The photo shows the Han Chinese security forces changing the guard.

Last Friday was our last day of classes, so in this food post I thought I would give homage to our wonderful school where we’ve been learning these last several months. The school offers cultural activities every week, and a couple of weeks ago the activity was, to my delight, a cooking lesson. We learned how to make xi hong shi chao jidan, which translates to “stir fry tomato and egg”. This is a dish that is ubiquitous in China and is one of the few dishes I have seen everywhere, from our cross-country train ride to the local 7-11 next to our apartment. Crank does not happen to be a great fan, but I find it quite tasty. There is sugar in it so the final dish has a touch of sweetness that I think goes great with the egg and tomato.

西红柿炒鸡蛋 (xihongshichaojidan)
Stir-fry tomato and egg

Ingredients

3 eggs
2 tomatoes
3 tbs vegetable oil
salt to taste
1 tbs white sugar

1. Cut tomatoes into pieces.
2. Beat eggs with some salt until smooth but not frothy.
3. Heat 1.5 tbs of oil in a nonstick skillet over medium high heat. Add eggs when hot and cook until a thin film of cooked egg appears on the bottom of pan. Stir briefly and transfer to a bowl while eggs are still runny. Wipe out skillet.
4. Heat the remaining oil in a skillet over medium high heat until hot. Add tomatoes and cooking, stirring occasionally, for 1-2 minutes. Sprinkle sugar and salt over tomatoes and stir. Return eggs to skillet and stir until eggs are just cooked through. Serve!

This video was shot on two separate but similar days and spans approximately nine hours worth of traffic, catching the afternoon rush hour where crammed buses ram through impasses, taxis mill about waiting for fairs, cyclists weave through the gauntlet and commuters flock to and from the subway (seen snaking in and out of frame in the upper left corner).

The intersection has been an endless source of entertainment for us. The wacky U-turns, the occasional collision and the cacophony of horns create comedic and dramatic moments, complete with symphonic soundtrack. Unfortunately that soundtrack doesn’t hold up when sped up several thousand percent like the video does.

Apparently, the streets of Beijing aren’t just good for the odd baby-butt sighting. I can’t remember the first time Craig and I walked outside the door of our apartment to find the cardboard boxes filled with puppies, but there they were. I don’t really know anything about the pet trade in China, but I do know that it seems, for the most part, to take place on the streets here in Beijing, in cardboard boxes and tiny cages strung to bicycles that attract hordes of cooing onlookers wherever they go.

For the most part I feel terrible for the animals, who I can see mistreated in front of my eyes and who I’m not convinced are going on to better homes once they’re purchased. But I also can’t help but think that some of them might want a snuggle or two, and I’m really a sucker for baby animals. So I usually end up dragging Craig to the nearest animal bicycle vendor and picking up all the puppies and mice and bunnies I can hold, preparing to run if Craig gives me the ok. I have tried to convince Craig of the merit of several plans I have to smuggle the wee babes into the U.S., but he remains unconvinced.

So far, the street menageries of Beijing seem to hold a varied assortment of animals. Our running list of things we’ve glimpsed on the street include: puppies, kittens, bunnies, hamsters, mice, gerbils, snakes, turtles, scorpions, baby ducks, baby chicks, birds, guinea pigs, goldfish and, of course, squirrels.