The (Asian) Education of Miss 爱美丽

In his excellent book Oracle Bones, Peter Hessler profiles Polat, who represents one of China’s most disenfranchised minority groups, the Uighars. As a minority from the Northwest provice of Xinjiang, Polat, who speaks at least six languages, acts as a middleman, both literal and figurative, for the diverse ethnic groups that congregate in the capital city (Turks, Russians, Uzbeks, Han Chinese, Americans, etc.) He also happens to be one of Hessler’s best friends in Beijing.  

Before I became emotionally invested in Hessler’s memorable character and the plight he represents in modern China, though, I invested some time and love in Uighar food. On the last day of my trip to Beijing, John took me to a favorite local spot of his, Cresent Moon, which happened to have been named Beijing’s best ethnic restaurant. (Did you know that Sustainable?) Blending middle eastern and Chinese palates, Uighar food brings traditionally unrelated food together in really beautiful ways. (Which is why I insisted we find a Uighar restaurant in Shanghai. Laurie and Caitlin loved it as well.)

Spiced lamb kebabs

Must-tries: Lamb skewers (kebabs), perfectly al dente hand-pulled noodles in a tomato-red pepper sauce (almost like cacciatore), sesame-covered naan-like bread, cold cucumber and tomato salad, homemade YOGURT, Sinkiang black beer, and a sweet milk and black tea. Uighar restaurants are always uber-hygienic to boot (thank you, pillars of Islam).

Though we won’t be going as far north or west as Xinjiang, my upcoming trip to Gansu province will still get us in the general vicinity. Will we be so lucky as to find Uighar food way the hell out in Zhangye, Inner Mongolia? I can only hope. Despite their apparent affinity for isolated, cold-weather exports as seen in today’s fashion, the same cannot be said for the food; there are no Uighar restaurants to speak of in HK… yet.)

A Nordic blast is sweeping Hong Kong – and I’m not talking about the weather. In these past few weeks of almost perfect-weather –  we’re talking high-pressure blue skies and temps hovering around 60 degrees – Hong Kongers have broken out their winter weather gear.

HK snow bunnies?

Never immune to the fashion forecasts, they’ve managed to absorb international runway hits and translate them into their own brand of South East Asian Arctic: Moose printed-sweaters, snow-flake knit mini-skirts, fleece trim and pom-poms, lots of sherpa-lined hoodies and the like. None of which is in actual wool, of course. Cottons and synthetics do just fine in this balmy weather.

While I happen to love this kind of cold-winter, ski-chic aesthetic, I feel my New England roots justify these tastes a bit more than, say, a subtropical islander’s.  Have these girls ever seen a single snow-flake, or one of those moose heads that currently adorns their tunic? As Ernie Boch would say, “I DOUBT it.”

Despite my playful hating, though, I have to consider the challenge in must be for the average HK woman – all 5 foot two and 95 frail pouds of her – to transition between sauna-like summers and brisk (if I’m being generous) winters. I’ll admit that I, too, have reluctantly added a few jackets (cropped, mind you) into the rotation to ward off some evening chills, but I’m saving my winter gear for Inner Mongolia, where it is currently a cool 15 degrees Fahrenheit…

 …

I find it highly ironic, and somewhat scary, that of all the food fetishes to acquire this year while in Asia, I’ve chosen to become dangerously attracted to dairy products. Sure, you expect that from someone living in France, where it’s almost a religious experience to gorge on the unsalted butter,  chantille-doused pastries, and cheeses of the highest order (never mediocre).

But in China? Frankly, I didn’t even know they ate dairy in China. But oh, my good friends, do they. Couldn’t have timed this revelation any better. In late September, the  cancer-enducing chemical melamimne was found in milk coming from rural China (the province I’ll be visiting next week, coincidentally!). Since then, traces of that body-rotting substance have been found in everthing from baby formula to yogurt to cookies to instant coffee. What dairy-based concoction would be worth such a health risk, you might be thinking? These babies:

Like eating angels

Sunday morning special

The first yogurt, or “pudding” as our British chap Owen would call it, is literally the lightest, fluffiest, most perfectly sweet but not too sweet yogurt I’ve ever had, hidden in the depths of Beijing’s best hutong . The yogurt’s topped with sweet red beans, a favorite dessert flavor in Chinese cuisines. Those beautiful rolls to the right are swirls of red bean paste and yogurt curd, which was equally light in flavor and just dense enough to hold the shape together. Chinese tourists flock there everyday (I was the only white girl for miles), lining up well before the noon opening, and stocking up on as many cups of the stuff as they can hold until the place sells out of its ambrosia-like treats. Here’s the group of Taiwanese belly-dancers (they later took my picture and gave me their cards in return) who stuck it out in line with me to get their fair share of the yogurt. I promise you that I have dreamed about it every day since then, and will continue to dream until my inevitable return to Beijing.

The second dairy-based delight is a recent discovery – a hot, steamed egg and milk custard that I enjoyed at one of Hong Kong’s most famous cha chan tengs, or HK coffee houses, the Australia Dairy Company. (Still a secret to most foreigners I think – again, the only white chick around is moi). They’re really more like diners, serving customers a limited selection of crowd-pleasers like thick buttered toast (no crusts), eggs, and macaroni-based soups. This being the venerable Australia Dairy Company (false advertisement by the way – their milk products are definitely Chinese) however, I needed to go in for the house specialty. What I loved about this custard, which was lighter than flan, was its undertones of almond and nutmeg. Not flavors I’d typically associate with Chinese cooking. But then again, most food in Hong Kong is anything but typical.

                                                                        

Which leads me to my third-dairy obession, milk tea. Nai Cha (in Cantonese) is made with black tea and lots of steaming (or cold) evaporated milk, giving it an almost coffee-like texture and appearance. And Hong Kong people drink it like Massholes drink Dunkin Donuts, which is to say always, and often several times a day. Cold in the summer and hot by this time of year, nai cha is found in every respectable (and non-respectable) eatery and cafe in Hong Kong. So until the government shuts down the entire city to ban the unofficial-national drink, I’ll keep on sippin’ it.

The American West has always been romanticized, from its inception in the American imagination, to artists like Albert Bierstadt and George Catlin, and well into the 21st century thanks to artists like Ralph Lauren and… well, Mischa Barton. The whole theme has been transported well beyond its geographic borders. I remember being shocked to learn that the American West had found such a permanent cultural niche in France, indicated by their first ever theme park: La Mer de Sable, which boasts “Big shows give the rhythm of the day, Western in the Ranch, train attack with Indians, horses show… But it offers a lot of other attractions such as the Colorado Train, the Chikapas Jungle, Cheyenne River, pirate’s boat. A day of thrills just 45 minutes from Paris.” Thrilling indeed.

One of my favorite pairs of shoes from France is a pair of colorful, tee-pee embroidered suede wedges from 2002. A recently acquainted French friend Pauline showed up at a club on Friday night wearing a western embroidered vest over her lovely chiffon dress. And the long-fringed leather bag I brought home from Paris just this past spring (and that is sadly sitting at home – actually, can you send that Mom? Thanks.) serves as yet another example of the nearly perennial place that accessories orbiting around the native/western chic look takes in France.

Unsurprisingly (and unfortunately), I’m not the only one smuggling French trends back home. France’s love with the West has made several flights across the pond and been recycled, coast-to-coast, for many seasons now (re: Minnetonka moccasin wave circa Ali’s high school years, then again in 2003; the “native” flaired bohemian-bourgeois chic circa last year, now… forever? )

MUCH more surprising, however, are the many manifestations of the Native American/American West right here in Hong Kong. First, we remarked with suprise that our dorm hall’s decorative theme is centered around some Native American tribal look, stemming from their themed orientation program called “O-Camp.”

The supersoaker is the new tomahawk

These boys were some kind of orientation-camp leaders, and thus got the privilege of donning the chieftain’s feather dress.

The video below is a pseudo-tribal “fire-camp” group dancing exercise from orientation camp. WARNING: This video is not for the culturally insensitive (John). The concentric-circle running and ‘meowing’ are part of the ritual, and somehow acceptable forms of dance in this part of the world.]

The biggest blow-up of the Native American/West look has been in the footwear category. Girls sporting fringed, suede sandals, booties, and knee-high boots can be seen in the hilly campus of Tai Po to the trendy streets of Causeway Bay and Mong Kok, and everywhere in between… Literally, even the subway station fashion stores carry several varieties.

Will the trend ever end? Methinks not. Pocahontas just made it too damn sexy. I predict we will be seeing the Native American/West flair for many, many moons.

So you thought you knew about materialism, about that controversial value system that infects so many Americans, keeps our credit cards hot and fills our homes with name-brand stuff, and a whole lot of it. I definitely thought I knew about materialism and the kinds of internal battles I would have to fight when faced with the amounts of clothes and shoes and pretty stuff that Hong Kong promised to offer.  Yesterday proved me wrong. I know that I know nothing about this breed of materialism, the kind that drives families to buy PAPER REPLICAS of luxury handbags and shoes at the Taoist/Confucius temple to burn for their beloved deceased.

Here’s how it goes. A deceased family member, having left this world for the next, will nonetheless need the sustenance and comforts of his life on Earth. Thus family members pay visits to the graves of the deceased, offering food (whole styrofoam trays of fresh dim sum) and drink (tea, cans of beer, and whiskey included) and by burning paper offerings of other items now unavailable to the dead. We’re not talking recycled newspapers and magazine paper, here. We’re talking paper MONEY, like in Monopoly, and stacks of it. Hundreds, thousands, millions of it. There’s a store right across from the temple, where you could find a paper version of almost any gift you’d find under the Christmas tree. My favorites included, but were not limited to: a paper toiletries kit (gotta smell fresh in heaven); a paper “business man” kit, complete with picture cell phone and Rolex watch;  paper Louis Vuitton bags (in several different prints) and matching paper loafers; and best of all, a paper massage chair.

Paper bling

 Like walking into Macy’s the day before Christmas without a clue of what to buy (eh-hem, Dad), facing these many paper gift options for your dead family member can be daunting. What do they need up there? What are the new styles in the afterlife? Fortunately, the temple has these clueless consumers in mind and offers pre-wrapped paper packages, complete with a sampling of paper goods inside, for an easy one-stop-shop. Despite my disbelief, this Taoist thing has me considering conversion… I mean, who doesn’t want to hit the afterlife in style?