On the Quest for Hummus I

As you can probably guess from the title, this is quest for Hummus I because it was a complete failure. I guess to be accurate, the search was for chickpeas...the only ingredient missing for my hummus concoction and definitely the most important ingredient. In the past week, I made hummus from chickpeas that had been sitting in my fridge for longer than I'd like to acknowledge. I saved 5 cans for a rainy day and then after a few BBQs and a hungry morning, I was left with nothing. I hadn't eaten hummus for nearly 2 years, and now after consuming it for 3 days out of a week I'm left with wanting more. I didn't think much at the time that it might be my last hummus for a small while...
 I began my journey taking the back road to my destination, and was interested by the small pizza place built into apartment buildings. If I hadn't eaten lunch prior to leaving the house, perhaps I would stumble in there to see what all the huss and fuss was about, but for now I continued walking the path to the long forgotten market...


And it turned out, the market was long forgotten
It might be a little hard to see from this poorly taken photo, but it appears the market has been shut down. You might notice the sticker there is of Santa Clause, and there is nothing inside, except for some chips and such not pictured here, so presumably this place has been abandoned.


My next stop was at Leo Young,
an overpriced foreign import market
 
I try to avoid this place like the plague because everything is far too expensive, but I put my cheap attitude aside if the market could supply me with those coveted chickpeas. To no avail, this is all I saw in the canned foods section...

So there is enough Spam for a life time but no bloody chickpeas. I decided to look at the booze to see if that would make me happier and I came across this...
Not
that
I
would
buy
any
spirits
at
a place
like this
but I had
a gander
nonetheless.


My next destination was some small Korean market, which I had little hope for but it was on the way home.

Ain't Nuttin' Hurr

I quickly went to Sungiven a few doors down almost immediately after.

Also, Nuttin'

I was ready for disappointment and was met with yet another can of corn kernals.

I didn't mention this before,
but the other places
I went seemed to all have canned corn
for whatever reason.
I am not quite sure
on the Chineses' fascination
with corn kernals.
Many Chinese fascinations
remain a mystery
to me
even to this
day.

I continued the journey at the good ol' Wally world, because everything good comes to an end at Walmart
 
I am ashamed to remark on the frequency of my weekly Walmart visits, but I digress. I was pretty sure I wouldn't find anything here, but at least their beer selection was cheap. Of course, the foul spam made another appearance. Corn kernals were also there,but I couldn't be bothered looking at them for much longer.

I forgot to take a picture of the woman making fresh sesame paste, but here is a can from the other day. So, at least Walmart provided me with one of the key ingredients.
The following day, I made up for failure in my chickpea succoring with a nice steak salad with chickpeas, avocado, caramelized onions, and general goodness.

My mate and I continued the evening by deciding the bathhouse would be a great option. The distance from the restaurant to bathhouse was an easy few minute walk, so we decided to take a much more convoluted path by going down to the seashore and back. Walking along the seashore, we looked out to the city
 
Though it is a bit hard to see here, this photo perfectly encapsulates three key areas: First, there is the area to left where there is a small amusement park and a bar on top of the bumper car track. In the middle, is Xhinghai square which is the largest square in China. Finally, the glowing purple area to the right is the bridge that connects Wanda square to Jinshatan.

When I first saw the bridge many years ago, looking out at the ocean from Xhinghai square, I found it to be quite ugly and couldn't quite understand the purpose of the obstruction. The purpose became quite clear, which was to reduce traffic, a goal that was certainly reached. Still, I thought it looked quite ugly. Over time, it began to grow on me. The fluorescent lights illuminating the cars and the vast, empty ocean began to become beautiful for a reason I can't quite explain in words. This feeling reached a zenith last New Years when the bridge was closed down for a fireworks display.

We continued walking through the backstreets, searching for a new way to find our destination. We came across this scene that captured my eye; something about this windy road seemed so perfect. Just to the right of it, was a "haunted house" where homeless people allegedly live.

Further down the road, we came across this hostel.

Up the road to the left, was the bathhouse which I sadly did not take a picture of, but I promise I will next time. I remember the first time going to a bathhouse after years of putting it off. Being naked around a bunch of men seemed too odd for my Puritanical, American morality. Once I came over these insecurities, I discovered the beautiful sensation of the 90 degree (Celsius, sorry Yankees) sauna and the 0 degree shower. That feeling of ecstasy switching between the extreme temperatures does something miraculous to the body.

I will continue my quest for chickpeas sometime this week. I could easily just ask my missus where to buy some (probably through Taobao, the Chinese Amazon), but there is just something more exciting about making things in life more difficult for the sake of filling up your free time.

Fiending for a Philly

A Philly cheesesteak joint opened up near me a few months ago. Here is the classic Philly I ate on that fateful day:

It was so damn good and reminded me how much I miss sammiches. Finding a proper sandwich can be quite a labor in China. We have Subway, but Subway is mediocre shite. Don't get me wrong...I eat at Subway like once a week: 6 incher; Italian herb bread, spicy Italian (double meat), all veg, cheese, and mustard. With a side of cookies, preferably the chocolate, chocolate chip cookie. Hell, I'm thinking about ordering that tonight. On a side note, most places deliver. in China. There are delivery companies (I use e.le.me, pronounced "eh la ma") that will go to a restaurant for you and bring the food right to your door. Typically, it is cheaper to order delivery than go to the restaurant yourself, which seems rather odd to me.

So I'm not a huge fan of Subway, but living in China there are certain things you start to miss, things that you never really thought about before. I've always loved subs, but I never imagined living in a place where subs weren't common. Sinking my teeth into that Philly reminded me of being home. Of times going to Harris Teeter during my lunch break and grabbing a quick sub. Or going to Katz Deli and filling my belly with a Reuben. I remember first coming here and pizza being hard to come by, which luckily  has changed in present day Dalian. They had Pizza Hut when I first came here, but Pizza Hut is shit in China (besides the cheap breakfast with unlimited coffee, which is pretty amazing and now that I'm thinking about it has been ages and my calendar is being marked as I type). I remember the first time eating Papa Johns in China. It felt so wrong because I hate their CEO and everything he stands for, but their pizza in China is good and does in fact not taste like cardboard. Brooklyn, a nice local pub, has the best pizza in town and that's been open for well over a decade. Pizza has been here since I've been here, but the availability and choice has drastically increased. Western restaurants seem to be popping up everywhere these days, as evidenced by the Philly cheesesteak place.

I am ashamed to say that I shop at Walmart on a regular basis, mostly because it is a 5 minute walk from my flat and they have a good selection. Never in my wildest dream would I imagine saying I truly love Snickers and Doritos. Burger King has an immaculate burger called the Whopper, for those unfamiliar. KFC has buckets of chicken (delivered freshly to your door). You forget how much you love something, before it's taken away from you.

If I had to weigh out all the pros and cons between living here and back home, I would most likely choose China any given day. Life is more comfortable and convenient here, but there are just certain things you wish wouldn't be so difficult. I am glad to say I can easily choose between IPA's at my mates pub whereas a few years back it took hard work and determination to find just a single IPA, but it still isn't as convenient (or cheap for that matter) as going down to Total Wine in the Promenade and picking up a 12 pack of Torpedo. It's these consumable goods that draw some connection from my new life to my old life. There will always be a part of me that is American, and that piece of me will always have an attraction to junk food. I wonder what products I will miss when I leave this place...

Darkened View

The same spot as this morning, time passes, darker now

Happier this morning...it never lasts. Crawling, blind, but crawling. Fearing existence, seeking, sighing, crawling. Streets desolate. A cry for help. No responses. Forgotten. Worms crawling, blind beasts, under the ground, silent, crawling. No strength. Happier this morning, long forgotten. Smoke rises, disappears. Time passes. Light will come back soon. Soon enough, just wait. Light will come back and then darkness follows. Summer and then Winter; Winter and then Summer. Running, faster now and then backwards, and then in circles. Faster now. Walking, back and forth. Stopping, breathing in the air. Choking. Spitting phlegm. Silence. It always ends with silence. Then continues again. Sound, light. Silence, darkness. Darkened sound. Illuminated silence.

Running, faster
Time passes
Light again; dark again
Winter, there is no strength left
The body is used, apathy
Ennui
Choking, crawling, circling
Silence.

View from the Bathroom Window

My classes at the university are divided into two 50 minute blocks with a 10 minute break in-between. For evening classes, I typically skip the break and leave class early. For the 8 A.M.'s, I like to take the break and get a coffee from the machine and typically smoke a fag in the W.C. While puffing on my death stick, I like to look out the window and take in the wonderful events unfolding around me.

At the top of the photo there is a big chunk of white space and this is actually smog and not some kind of error with my phone's camera. Smog is common here in the winter, and it has covered  many buildings in the distance. The trees have begun to die as the impending winter comes (note:I guess it's still technically Autumn, but here in Dalian the only two seasons are Summer and Winter, with a small intermission between them). The building in the center is the graduate building, where I teach graduate-level literature on Monday mornings. You can also see two small figures off to the right, and these folks are African students at the university. I actually live next to the international students dorm and walk by them quite often, though seldom do I strike up conversation. My old room was right next to their dorm and I could hear the Russians coming home late at night, drunk as skunks and obnoxious as all hell. I do like the international community in the student body though, and have hung out with some of the Turks and Russians. Many of the students who come here don't have the same opportunities for higher education in their home countries, and I think it is swell they can come to China and get a collegiate education for a reasonable price (though I'm not sure about the price, I have heard from some it is free of charge but I don't know this for certain).

It is a relaxing time of day to look out on the scenery, as I huff and puff the sweet nicotine. Watching from high above as the ants busily march through the campus. Sometimes I get a glimpse of DUFE cat as she (it turns out he was a she, though as a liberal I need to ask her if this is the gender she identifies as or else other liberals will crucify me) scurries along the sidewalk and dives into the bushes. I wonder how many people have stood in the same place as myself and had similar thoughts. Wondering what the people down below are thinking about as they hurry along on their busy days. How many of these people struggle with internal demons and tiny hobgoblins in their minds? Are they, like me, trying to find their place in this vast world? Their movements from up above all look the same, and perhaps we are all the same, with tiny differences here and there.

I take the final drag of my fag and put it out. Today we are talking about the differences of Eastern and Western culture. My students are happy to talk with me and I can see joy emanating from their faces as we converse and participate in fun educational (most of the time) activities. For the time being, that's the only sense of purpose I need.

DUFE Cat

The tabby cat that roams my campus grounds is simply called DUFE cat, since DUFE is the acronym of my university (Dongbei University of Finance and Economics). I have come across this mysterious creature numerous times in my 2 years here. Even today, I ran across him on the steps of the building I work in, which is one of his common spots.

I wanted to ask him what he calls himself, if he calls himself anything. Or if I am correct in my assertion that he is a he and not a she. Instead, I simply called him kitty and he continued to doze in his spot. As apathetic as he is, DUFE cat is an immensely popular caricature at the university. When I make my students act out scenes for things like proverbs or idioms, there is typically a role play that in someway incorporates DUFE cat. He is greatly loved, but does nothing to garner that admiration.

I have tried following him around before. It reminds me of the protagonist from the Miyazaki film Whisper of the Heart. She comes across a cat, Moon, and follows him round one day. I followed him that one day, walking alongside him down the sidewalk during a stroll through the uni. In the end, he perched on a spot outside a building and stayed there until I was bored and carried on with my busy day. I think in some ways I am jealous of DUFE cat. I care not for his undeserved adoration since I don't give a damn what others think of me. Rather, I wish I had a home like DUFE cat's. He is free to go anywhere; he doesn't need a job. The students feed him, nothing asked in return. Why can't I be fed for free? If he so wishes, one day he can move to another university. Maybe even sneak on a train and go to another city. A new land; different universities; more caretakers. How I envy the simpleton.

I type this post trapped in my comfortable little box, wishing I could be out there glaring at the stars... though knowing I would be puffing on the toxic fume in the process. Outside in the moonlight without a care in the world; I would travel station to station exploring new worlds every step of the way. In this sublime moment, I would bask in the glory of freedom and hoping to jump from place to place. What a life to be freed from these shackles of slavery. No more fears of finances or finding my place in the world. A reality where I was the master. In charge of my own destiny and not a pawn in a game of cat and mouse. Would I be willing to live the life of the DUFE cat? Could I become a free spirit in a world that demands conformity and compliance?

There is a sad truth in my answer: I found my spot, and I am afraid of leaving.

Death of a Crab

A box came in the other day. From previous deliveries, I was expecting avocados and dragonfruit. I opened the box with great haste only to find a bag full of crabs. At first I had an expression of apathy until I noticed movement within the bag. By god, these crabs were still alive!

I immediately called my missus and asked her why she would have crabs shipped alive. She thought it queer of me to say something so ridiculous; crabs boiled alive were fresher than ones that had been dead for days, obviously. I explained to her this was animal cruelty, and she still couldn't understand where I was going with this. "It's ok to kill crabs because they don't have any feelings," I heard Kurt echoing in my ears.

My missus was right to think it strange for someone like myself to say something like this. I never showed the slightest inclination of caring for the lives of animals. I had been an avid meat eater since we had known each other. Even when I attempted veganism in my collegiate years, I did so for health reasons instead of ethical ones.

I had also noticed the Chinese view on animal life. I remember being terrified at the zoo and aquarium years prior. I can still see the faces of the animal as crowds passed by taking selfies and the staff showed little compassion. I have heard of people hear eating monkey brain straight from a live monkey and have seen the fresh blood of a slaughtered lamb at the outdoor market. Was I perhaps thinking too deeply on the lives of these crabs?

Two days went by and I could hear them attempting their escape. Claws scratching at the styrofoam top; legs clinging mongst one another; in my imagination, perhaps, a cry for help with foam gushing at the mouth.  I would be busily working and hear a noise coming from the kitchen. I would forget they were there, then remember, and go back to my day. I wondered what would happen if they were successful in their evacuation. I would plead not guilty to my crab overlords. They were already here, it wasn't like I wanted to toss money into the ocean. Did capital matter more than a life? Is what these things had a life? Is what I have considered a life? Why did I give a damn? Why did I all of a sudden gain a conscience for these damn crabs. The answers eluded me.

I took off the top on the day of their slaughter to look at them. They looked back with their beady little eyes and asked me for help. I knew there was nothing to be done: I had mates coming over that night and they had been promised crab. Their lives were put over the lives of these crabs, if we could be calling what these crabs had a life. They would be delicious. Warm and savory. Fresh as fresh can be.

The night arrived and preparations began. She had two pots, one on the bottom with water and the other on top with the crabs. I found this to be particularly cruel. It would be bad enough boiling them alive but steaming them alive seemed that  much worse. I didn't argue, I already accepted these crabs were going to die. Steamed or boiled, fried or barbecued, they were destined to die. They were placed in their iron maiden and a bowl was placed on the lid to ensure they couldn't escape. I got back to my work and soon after heard a thump coming from the kitchen. I went in to investigate and found the crabs had made their escape. There were some on the floor, some in the sink and a few hiding behind the oils and spices. They didn't move much, just trying to hide with the little camouflage they had. We put on gloves and picked up the crabs to return them to their end. They squirmed in my hands but didn't try to harm me. I threw them back in with great malice, as if they had been so rude to interrupt my studies. I counted them to make sure all 10 had been returned. In a way, I wished one would've gotten out and later I could return him to the ocean. At least in that way, it would be like I tried to atone for my sins.

I went in at one point to see how the process was going. They were still alive, barely. I said sorry and went back to work. I returned later and the deed was done. Orange crabs illuminated the pan. They looked delicious but I had no appetite for them.

Mates came and relished in the feast. I tried a piece of crab; I didn't like it. I ate the other dishes. I said nothing on the matter and enjoyed the night with great company.

I would be lying if I said I cared about the ethical treatment of animals when it comes to using them for food. I don't question the shady ethics of KFC when I gorge myself on a bucket of their fried chicken. Not once have I protested the cattle industry when my McDonald's hamburger crumbles between my lips. The only thing different in this situation is cutting out the middle man; I took on the atrocity myself instead of having someone else do it for me. I don't plan on ending my meat crusade anytime soon, so I suppose I will continue living my life as a sinner, and pray that the good lord above ain't a crab.

Out of Gas

My graduate speaking class has been great this semester since it is by far the most relaxed. I enjoy my American Lit and Writing classes, but they are nothing compared to the environment in the speaking course. I have the same six students in the speaking course from one of my literature courses, and they are certainly a good bunch of students. Usually we just do activities: a lot of role-playing such as zombie apocalypse/desert survival or activities like the lying game (come up with two truths and one lie, and the others have to guess which is the lie), and for our class this past week we played texas hold ‘em and blackjack since our last two weeks of class will be exam preparation…wanted to give them something nice to remember me by. Regarding the homework, I don’t like to assign too much since these students have plenty of other homework from their large assortment of classes. There are only two kinds of assignments for this class: preparation for speeches and bringing in a BBC article. The BBC article happens quite often and it is a fairly straightforward, simple task; I have them print out an article of interest off of BBC and then they bring it in, read it to the class, and discuss key points. Normally, they will bring in something interesting and it will be engaging for the whole class. One article in particular caught my fancy the other week and the link is as follows:

http://www.bbc.com/news/magazine-34473588

The idea of truly getting lost is an intriguing one, since the act of not knowing where you are is something we tend to avoid at all costs, especially those like me who always want to be in control of their surrounding environment. Going back to my very first blogpost about China, it was about this very feeling of anxiously looking for the right direction:

http://thepeepleschamp.blogspot.com/2014/09/on-bus-bound-for-nowhere.html

Crazy how quick things can change in a little over a year’s time (and my understanding of Chinese culture…thinking before being left-handed would be seen as weird because they train children to use their right hand and instead being left-handed and wearing glasses automatically makes me intelligent and artistic…if only). It is also funny reading the beginning where I talk about my first impressions of Rik (my former boss, who left my previous school and works at the same university as I do now, just in a different department), and now knowing what a low-life scumbag he is (how naïve and fresh off the boat, I was).

I remember being a child when exploration was key in my everyday life. My sister, Jacob and I used to discover new worlds in our backyard as our imagination ran vivid in the scenery. I recall my grandmother bringing me along on car rides to the grocery store because she knew I would certainly find the way there everytime. I can still picture road trips with my family to Grammy’s house and telling dad the turns to take on backroads through the memory of venturing through them so many times before. By the time I got my driver’s license, I needed my gps plugged into my car to tell me directions for any place I needed to go. Even if it was a location I had been many times before, if it was more than 30 minutes from my home, I did not feel comfortable finding it without the gps instructing me on the exact route I outta take. Within just a decade, I’ve gone from a steadfast seeker of worlds to a mere copycat of his technological puppet master. Tis a pity, but the truth can be a cruel mistress at times…or so, it goes.

I was speaking with a friend back home the other day about the process of writing. We both agreed that sometimes the hardest part of writing is the motivation since there is always the voice in the back of our heads that say our time could be devoted to something…more practical, for lack of a better word. I confessed the greatest way to inspire writing was travelling, and not only travelling to faraway lands as I did with my venture out here in China world, but also taking alternative routes to get to places and keep a watchful eye on the landscape living around you. It is one thing to preach how to write and another taking those words to hurt, so I took my own advice and put it to the test.

On the way to DnD night this past Wednesday, I stayed on the bus for an extra stop and got off at Qingniwa bride across the street from the luxurious Pavilion mall (note: Malls in China are actually sweet, because they are typically home to some fabulous restaurants, such as BlueFrog and Lenbachs in this case, a bar with epic burgers and a fancy German restaurant respectively). I had been to Pavilion quite a few times, but I had never walked the street behind it. If I had gotten off the bus a stop earlier, it would have taken me 25 minutes to get to my mate’s place, so I figured account another 10-15 minutes into the equation for my arrival time: 6:55 pm. It seemed a simple task because the surrounding area was mostly familiar to me, but walking down the street for a few minutes, I quickly got lost and had no clue where I was going. DnD wouldn’t start until well past 7 pm, so I discarded anxieties and kept moving forward keeping an open eye at anything I passed during this journey. There really wasn’t much to see, the same old landscape that encompasses the majority of the Dalian scene, but I was completely dumbfounded by the fact that none of what I was seeing was familiar, considering the close proximity of the area to locations I had traveled time and time again. I knew that just a few minutes north of me, was the path I would take to walk to my old job, but this road I was currently on was something I had never strolled on prior. Furthermore, everything seemed deserted except of course the roads, since Chinese roads - apart from the countryside - are always crowded with cars for miles and miles. I truly felt like I was strolling through the ol’ North Carolinian ghetto as I stepped hastily by abandoned buildings and people in shaggy clothing. I kept my eyes open and everything seemed desolate, except the train tracks to my right where a train passed me by in a split moment during the journey. I came across a sign that read “Renmin guangchang (People’s Square) 1 km to the left” so I knew that meant I outta turn left since my destination was near there. Sure enough, I came to where I was looking for within the next ten minutes walking down a narrow backstreet, eventually coming across huanghe lu which I knew I outta take a right on to get to my destination. And sure enough, there it was in a matter of minutes.

This experience isn’t much as a solitary experiment, because at the end of the day, I didn’t observe much during my journey from Qingniwa Bridge to my mate’s house. However, the lesson learned is an important one that I hope to utilize during the extensive time I am off between fall and spring semester. This lesson, one that we can all learn from, is taking a fucking chance to try a new route, or even a new way of thinking, without the aide of some crutch, to insure we don’t fall or choose the wrong way.  I could’ve easily gotten lost on this journey, even with finding the right way, it took me an extra 30 minutes to walk to my mate’s flat when from the position I started at, should’ve only taken an extra 10 minutes if I chose the correct route. And there is the lesson: who am I to say what the correct route is? I arrived at my destination by the end, and even if I hadn’t, I arrived somewhere by my journey’s finish and that is a task well worth celebrating. I haven’t done it much, but I am hoping to spend more time adventuring through Dalian (with no technological aid, because I’ve explore the city a good deal but always with a mate or knowing exactly where I’m going) into parts of the city for no reason other than just venturing. We spend so much time molding ourselves into these goal-oriented robots, that we forget life is not simply obtaining achievements and trophies, but rather discovering new ways to do things, and discovering new surroundings around us previously unknown. I hope to write to you all in the next few weeks of a journey that involves me getting on a bus I’ve never been on before, getting off five stops later, walking until I find another bus I’ve never been on, getting on it until five stops later, walking yet again until another bus I’ve never stepped foot on for yet another five stops, and then when I get off at this final stop, explore the world around me and see what it has to offer. We got comfortable with doing the same old thing from day to day, and even though I traveled half way across the world to China, I have also fallen victim to this unfortunate phenomenon of seeking nestled shelter wherever I see, when really I should be embracing life for the various wonders I have yet to embrace. Merry XXXmas, and a happy new beer.