Don't try this at home without adult supervision

I am not a baker. But plop me down in a country, in a city, in an apartment, in a kitchen where I am without an oven, and I will find a way to be Betty Crocker, if only for a few thrilling, almost 350-degree, warming moments.

It all started with a visit to the Hotel Equipment Corporation last rainy Sunday afternoon.  The giant four-floor warehouse 30 minutes from our apartment is home to professional grade cooks' tools and equipment, including three-foot whisks, more bakeware than Chuck Williams could shake a wooden spoon at, butane torches for the perfect crust on your creme brulee, the dozens of custard dishes to go with them, and of course not-your-mama's industrial sized rice cookers. So what do people without an oven or even a microwave do when they visit the HEC on a rainy, foggy day? They buy baking equipment, of course!

Well, we bought what equipment we thought we could turn into bakeware: the Chinese steamer. Instead of the bamboo variety, of which the HEC had hundreds, we purchased a metal steamer and matching lid (good idea, Z). We also purchased tinfoil cups two inches in diameter, a whisk, a silicone spatula, parchment paper and other items that have no immediate use for this baking experiment (i.e. citrus grater, two chartreuse bowls, signs that read in Mandarin cooked and uncooked because they'll be cute for the kitchen back home when we return, a tiny pitcher for soy sauce, a martini shaker and a nut cracker). So...Can you smell what I created just moments ago? I made with my two hands (with a little help from brownie mix I found at April Gourmet) delicious, chewy, chocolatey, satisfying brownies. Sans oven. Take that! Here's how I did it, and so can you:

First, preheat the metal steamer over the electric burner. While the retro-fitted oven device is warming on the highest setting - "9" -  grease tinfoil cups and stir together brownie mix with the appropriate accoutrement.

Fill greased tinfoil cups with brownie mix. You can lick the spoon because doing that reminds you
of being home and forgetting about any potential salmonella poisoning.
Also, there's only two of you to eat these brownies, so Germs, Shmerms.

After some trial and error, lower the heat to "7" and remove the center brownies altogether.
Even though you burned the center brownies the first go-around, you're still beaming with pride. It's really working!
Now, put the lid back on! You're losing heat!

After about 12-14 minutes you've got actual brownies.
This is more satisfying than when you were baking cookies with a light bulb a la Easy Bake Oven style.

You forget to add the M&Ms your mom and dad sent, so you sprinkle a few on top at the last minute.
The brownies are still warm, so the candies melt to perfection.

The milk can wait. 

I'm not saying these are county fair, prize winning brownies. I'm not going to start a business, and I certainly can't escalate to this status. But I bet these brownies, brownies made with love and patience and ingenuity this very afternoon, are some of the few, if only, homemade brownies within a seven mile radius.

Even as I write this, the baked goodness still wafts from the tiny kitchen and fills the apartment.

What a bargain!

Today, I ventured out on my bicycle (her name is GiGi, by the way) to the Yashow Market. It's another shopping mecca where crowds of tourists and maybe some Beijingers go to do some bargaining and to perfect their skills in patience. I knew about the Yashow Market because of the best travel book I have ever owned -- the Insider's Guide to Beijing. Thanks to a friend from my former life as an employed person, she let me borrow her 2008 version of the book, which I studied and used religiously until we found The Bookworm Beijing (also listed in the guide) and then we bought the updated copy. The Insider's Guides are the best series of travel books for learning about Beijing's everyday. We use the book to point us in the right direction, and it hasn't steered us wrong. We have tried many a restaurant and rarely have been disappointed. (remember that Mexican place we should have avoided, but didn't? Big fat "told you so" from the guidebook).  We have found bicycle shops, banks, bakeries, bars, Beijing duck and so much more from the book alone. And that's just in the "B" section! So, with book in hand, I discovered where I might find a good (cheap!) manicure. As you can see, I got myself that manicure, and I met "Katy" who taught me a few new Mandarin words, like "housewife," thanks, Katy, and "no matter." I will probably go back to her because she was pleasant and she talked to me in Chinese and English.

Then I wondered around the market, letting my nails dry before I hopped back on my bike towards home. I came upon one stall that caught my attention I bargained for this beauty all by myself (sorry, I just can't help it with the alliteration today!)! I asked how much, and then after the vendor told me the price, I perused more bags, you know, acting all cool and uninterested. When I checked out the bag again, I asked for a much lower price and we haggled back and forth from there. In Mandarin! (Don't get too excited - he spoke some English with me, and I used as much Chinese as I possibly could.) I got the price down to half; this is where Z would say I could have gotten it much lower, but that's the price of bargaining. So, here it is. My first purchase: a knockoff nylon bag in bright orange with an embroidered city scene. It came in many colors, but I love the orange-ness of it all for the fall.

*Bag is pictured backwards because I used PhotoBooth to take the picture

That's Mandarin!

Here's the thing that I am beginning to understand about myself in Beijing. I need something or someone to push me along; to set me on the course; to kick my butt into gear, but with respect, please.  I know, you're thinking, I knew that about you at least five blog posts ago. But, Beijing is a major, massive city, unlike any in which I have lived or visited. Yet, there exist tiny pockets of familiarity between the hutongs and the traffic circles. My internal struggle lies between cozying up to the status quo on my couch each day and motivating myself to try the new and unexplored on my own. Ah! See! Beijing and I are alike in this way -- we are constantly balancing the old and safe and comfortable with the new, the sometimes scary and the always exciting. OK. So Beijing is doing it on a much, much grander scale. I'll try to keep some perspective as I search for motivation and confidence.

When we first arrived - I'm talking about when we stepped off the plane at 1:00 in the afternoon, struggling with our luggage all the way, finding myself in a cab all by myself to who knows where - I was a bit disappointed with the view. In fact, I was a bit disappointed the first week we were here. It might be because we had to roll up our sleeves and start searching right away for a place to live. There was no soft introduction to Beijing city living. But I wanted to know,  Where were the fragrant cherry blossoms? The ladies fan dancing on the corner with their hair all done up? When could I schedule my first, second, third spa appointment I heard so much about before we departed? Where were the early morning tai chi students? Where were the happy children playing in parks with their doting and wise grandparents? The old men enjoying the end of summer nights playing card games and drinking beers? Where were the gilded gates and historic temples? Where were the red lanterns and festival lights? I saw only smog and dirt. I saw high rise apartments all around me that looked as if they haven't had a good scrubbing in decades. Inside some of those same buildings and courtyards, and felt crushed by what I could see only as lonely, cramped, smokey darkness. I felt like I was being suffocated by too many of the wrong kinds of choices, and Z and I were trapping ourselves into those little tight decision boxes. And then we switched gears, and made some elbow room for ourselves, and we built new boxes. We talked about what we wanted, and what we didn't want, instead of just going through the motions like starved zombies. We stopped worrying about what the landlords and real estate agents must think of us and whether we were wasting anyone's time. So, of course you know, we found an apartment and the stuff to put inside that place to call it home. But as much as we are paying to live here, and as much as I like my new couch and chairs, it's not enough to say you lived in China if you only sat inside all day...after day...after day.

And then I switched gears, again. I started to see all the tiny details that form the greater parts of Beijing. That is when I started enjoying my time here -- visiting the parks and temples, the family restaurant around the corner and the shopping markets. What's more important right now, is that I am starting to do it on my own. There is a bustling, bright food market just steps away from our front door. The seafood vendor sells live shrimp jumping up by the handful; patrons ride away with fresh green cabbages and long brown earthy taro roots hanging from their bicycle baskets; mangosteen fruits and kiwis are sold by the dozens. The market's sea of stalls and vendors are set up every morning, and after only a few hours, the entire place is wiped out like it never existed.

I started to see all the tiny details that form the greater parts of this city because I stopped worrying about what and how I thought Beijing and China were supposed to look and feel. If you have never been here, forget any pre-conceived notions you may have about Beijing. Forget about the crowding, the traffic, the noise and the smog. Also, forget about the romantic notions you have about Asia in general. All those things will slip into the background when you start to recognize how the little details are more important, more exciting, more worthy of your time.

There are surprises on every block in this city. There is also construction on every block. Somewhere in the middle of the Old Beijing and the New Beijing you can find anything, I'm convinced. So now I see that cherry blossoms don't come out until April; the card games in my neighborhood start around 7:00 PM and last all through the night if you can handle the drinking; tai chi is practiced much earlier than I allow myself to rise from my slumber these days; the fan dancing takes place on cool nights, groups of adults magically appearing outside this or that random restaurant while I'm inside dining; and there's a gilded gate that leads right to my apartment.

I signed up for yoga classes and I took my first Mandarin language class today, too. Man, a little bit of self confidence goes a long way.

Man Mao

There are a few larger than life "must see" destinations across the Northern Hemisphere I have been privileged to visit as a tourist, a student, or now as the tag-a-long-spouse.  And despite all the trappings of commercialization and ubiquitous souvenirs associated with most tourist destinations -- shot glasses, postcards, t-shirts, hats, watches with face dials displaying pictures of Chairman Mao --  I think it's better to have experienced these places, and some of their trinkets, than not at all. I won't be heartbroken if in my travels I happen to miss the World's Largest Cheese-filled Floating Log; I would have been disappointed, however, if I never saw the Eiffel Tower when I was in Paris for the weekend, or if I ignored Big Ben and the Tower of London when I was a grad student, or even if I decided not to climb the 354 stairs to the top of the Statue of Liberty's crown when I was 12 years old. How could I have come home from an Arizona trip visiting a friend without having gone to the Grand Canyon? What's a honeymoon in Greece without elbowing your way through the crowd to the top of the Acropolis? 

Why the serious face?
'Cause Mao was a serious man.

And then there is Beijing's Tiananmen Square and the Forbidden City. I know what you're thinking..."Do I have to see yet another picture of someone standing in front of the Forbidden City with Mao in the background?" Ugh! The answer is "Definitely. Yes!" 

Which one is keeping guard?

Take a rest; show some pride OR Show some pride; take a rest

We made our way to the man, the myth, the legend, two weekends ago (and I am just telling you about it now, yes). It's the sheer size of it all that makes the location impressive. There is a four (?) lane highway that separates the Square from the City (we're on a last name basis), and there is a massive underpass that allows pedestrian traffic to cross from one side to the other. It was a blue sky kind of day when we were there, and by midday the Square was filled with buzzing activity in preparation for the current National Day week long holiday. Intricately designed flower beds and sculptures were being pruned, and two massive screens obstructing the open view of the Square displayed the proud accomplishments of culturally and artistically inclined like-minded Chinese citizens.

Two Screens; One Square; Many Red Flags

After I absorbed my history lesson from Z about the Square, we crossed under and up over to reach the Forbidden City. (We interrupt this blog for a word from our sponsors: The Please Visit Us campaign says, "Act Now! History lessons by Z come free with any visit!") There is nothing quite like the six century old complex that makes up the Forbidden City. There more rooms (8,707), more palaces, building and temples (980), more gilded objects (lots), and many, many more dragons (it's got to be in the tens of thousands) than I can imagine there being anywhere else in the world.  If you would like a quick tutorial about the Forbidden City, I suggest you click here. If you would prefer to amuse yourself with pictures instead, I suggest you continue with this posting by perusing a few of my snapshots of the iconic historical site. Perhaps if you are reading this with a friend, you can take turns educating yourself aloud about the Forbidden City while perusing my pictures simultaneously. 

Reeelhhax. It's the Hall of Supreme Harmony

Look at that view!

Inspiration for a future tattoo? (just kidding, Ma!)

Qianlong Emperor's throne inside the Hall of Supreme Harmony

At the top of the Large Stone Carving weighing more than 200 tons 

Chinese lions don't mess around

Inside the Imperial Garden

p.s. This also happened that day

Even the people in the background are shocked. She asked me to take a picture together, and I awkwardly accepted.
Z snapped this moment so I wouldn't forget my first loawai moment.

About that.

I think I was delirious the other day when I decided to share story time with you. Sorry about that. But as you already know, this past weekend was a bust. I even spent all day Monday in the recovery zone. Now that it's already Tuesday and I've showered and brushed my teeth, it's back to finding my present purpose in life.

Thanks to my experiences thus far, I have crossed off a few things from my list of potential abilities:

1) raising fish

2) dumpling taste tester

3) kung fu master - I watched the newest Karate Kid the other day, and decided I just don't have those high kicking abilities in me after all.

4) nanny - there is a day care center of sorts on the back side of our apartment building, and while I don't mind the raucous and laughter because it lets me know there's something out there, I've decided that nannying in Beijing or elsewhere really isn't for me. I love kids and I miss all the children in my life, but I have little to no interest in being responsible other peoples' children.

5) Stay at home wife - I think it's pretty clear that I'm going out of my mind, and being trapped indoors with food poisoning for three days has put me over the edge.

What I haven't scratched off the list:

1) Dog walker - there are plenty of nouveau riche clientele in Beijing with furry, four legged friends who need some love, fresh air and exercise. Despite not being furry, I could also use the love and fresh air.

2) Part-time Mandarin student - still researching classes, but getting a little closer. I need to set a deadline for finding a class.

3) Infrequent yoga student - I am re-re-introducing myself to the wonders of exercise. I even signed up for a Intro to Yoga Retreat that starts in two weeks (it was the first one available, I'm not trying to postpone this). I am inspired by my friend and former co-worker who is the most bad ass yogi (among other accolades) I've ever met. She also told me to get out there and meet some expats, so I'm taking the first actual physical step toward that goal.

4) Becoming the Chinese Martha Stewart -- I am a pretty crafty lady if I put my mind to it. Except, that I haven't been putting my mind to anything lately. And, I don't know how to sew. But, still, I see potential in this open market.

5) Craigslist stalker - This counts as a bonus, because I have never used Craigslist, so I'll be trying something new! My goal is to secure one activity, item or event I can attend, purchase or lead based on my findings.

6) Volunteer! This one might have the most potential. When was the last time I was a contributing member to society in which I gave back my time and efforts? Go forth, youth! (Hmm, almost 30 years old). Go forth, almost-30-is-the-new-early-20s!

I need a young priest and and old priest

I don't like potty humor. I hate discussions at the dinner table about my two-year old nephew's latest diaper explosions. Hate it. So, I'm giving you an out, a free pass, a fair warning that what I am about to describe is not pretty. It's really too soon for me to write about this, but I believe I'll never be able to return to this, so I am moving ahead with this entry. (Remember the story about my seven-year old self and the breakfast noodles? This is far, far worse.) But, I've decided that it's important for me to write about the bad with the good. After all, the point of this blog is to share all my new experiences I am having here. The parents out there are probably the only one's brave enough to continue reading...

After my pampering at the spa on Friday afternoon, Z and I did a little shopping at Silk Street market, and then we found a new restaurant for dinner. I was so excited once we sat down at a table and looked at the menu, because they had xia long bao! Finally, I had my camera with me at the same time I was dining on the dumplings, so I snapped a picture to share with everyone. A nice European man sitting at the table next to us asked if the dumplings were any good, and I responded emphatically in kind, "Oh, yes! Try the pork and shrimp!" After dinner, we found a little market stall selling lychee nuts. I sampled one, and we bought a bag's worth of the juicy, sweet, fleshy fruit. We stopped at a tea shop, and bought some black tea for me. We hailed a cab, and it was onward home to watch a movie.

Then, it was all a nightmarish blur. (This is your last warning before I share this embarrassing story. This also goes against everything I feel about giving out Too Much Information on social networks status updates. Do I have to hear every detail about your gassy pregnancy?)

My head pounded and my bones ached. I became instantly nauseous. I had heartburn that started in my throat and went to my knees. I had the chills, but I was sweating. At one point I was lying on the cold wood floor in the fetal position because I couldn't find the strength to stand up again. It was light, it was dark. I was vomiting. My legs were sore. I was on the couch. I was on the bed. I was vomiting again, into the toilet, into the trash can, into whatever receptacle was within reach. My teeth hurt. My throat burned. I was gagging on my own thoughts. I was reciting Mandarin in my head over and over and over trying to block out visions of the last four, five, six, seven times I puked. I was on the toilet. I was off the toilet. I was sleeping on the toilet. I was trying to remember not to flush any paper down the toilet for fear of making the situation even worse. My feet were freezing. My stomach cramped, and gurgled, and twisted for 36 hours. I'd whimper and cry. I'd take a sip of Gatorade (that Z traveled the neighborhood to find), and literally two minutes later, I'd throw it right back up. I heaved. I coughed. I made noises only sound engineers for horror movies can create. Have I mentioned before that our toilet in the bedroom is surrounded by glass and a glass door? There's no screen or curtain and it's something we are working on rectifying. It's like I was involved in some sort of twisted piece of performance art about human suffering. The one water cracker, a half-inch in diameter, that took me 30 minutes to eat, took me three seconds after the last bite to expectorate. I have had hangovers that lasted three days. In elementary school, I was once punched directly in the gut by the school bully on the morning bus ride. But this. This...I've never felt so awful, weak, restless and beat up.

And then it was over.

Food poisoning.

I believe it was the dumplings, and I can only hope our European neighbor in the restaurant did not meet the same fate. Z had only one of the eight devilish dough balls (that was my whole dinner, don't judge.). It could have been the lone lychee nut. Z insisted we throw away the rest of them. I agreed without hesitation.

I don't know what kind of lesson I've learned through this experience. I was trying to avoid street food, but it seems that it's the restaurant food that did me in. Z was my hero through it all, though. The man, the sympathy vomiter himself, was brave and kind and cleaned up all of my messes in the past few days. I know it has been no easy task.

I will not be posting any pictures with this entry.

Happy National Day! I'd rather not have my ears cleaned.

Today is National Day across the People's Republic of China. It's kind of like the Fourth of July in the U.S. including the fireworks and parades, but minus the BBQs.

To celebrate today's 61st anniversary of the founding of the PRC, I enjoyed my first Chinese massage. Conveniently, there is a spa located directly below our apartment building. I have been interested in checking it out ever since we moved in, so Z and I went down to it, and he dropped me off like it was the first day of school. It's just like me to have the first day jitters, and I wondered if I'd have to change clothes like in gym class. Before he disappeared, Z helped me select the "medicine footMassage," which is exactly how it's written in the spa menu, and the manicure from the "Manicure/Scaping/Cupping" portion of the menu (typo included).

As much as I love spa treatments, I always, always feel a little awkward about the situation. Do I chat with the masseuse, should I stop myself from falling asleep, do I tell her she's pushing just a little too hard? Now, while you contemplate these same questions, add the element of a language barrier. But like any woman in search of relaxation, I pressed on.

A lovely hostess led me down a long hallway, and I was shown to my own room, where she asked me (in English) whether I preferred green tea or orange juice. I chose the green tea, but I was never to see that woman again with any beverages; this leads me to believe that maybe I was selecting the kind of scent I wanted for my foot soak. Green tea, perhaps? Then, a little woman, no taller than 4' 8" and 95 pounds, came into the room, and motioned for me to change into a pair of pepto-pink silk shorts. OK. I did as I was told. Just like in middle-school gym class, I shimmied into the shorts, keeping my skirt on until the shorts were all the way on, and then I slipped the skirt off over the shorts. You know what I'm talking about, ladies.

Then, over 70 minutes, the little masseuse worked out the knots and tension in my feet, ankles and legs that I didn't even know was there. She said a few words to me every once in a while, and I told her in Mandarin "I don't speak Chinese," but she chatted with me nonetheless. I think she asked me a few times if the pressure was alright, and of course, I told her "OK" since I could not have explained otherwise. She left the room a couple of times to get lotion or a new steaming bowl of who-knows-what in which to place my feet. Each time she left I said "xie xie," because I didn't know the massage was not finished.

After my feet were properly pummeled - in a good way - I thought it was time for my manicure. I stayed seated in my pepto-pink shorts until the next woman came to the door. I don't know what prompted me to ask, but I asked if she was to do my manicure, and she replied, "ear." Hmmm. A dilemma I did not foresee. Had I chosen to have my ears cleaned instead of a manicure? We looked over the spa menu together, I pointed to "manicure" while simultaneously pointing to my own unkempt hands. She, once again, pointed to her own ear and then mine and repeated the word, "ear" in English. I kindly declined the offer, and apologized for my mistake by saying in Chinese, "not yes" and then in English "ear." It sounded like this: "Bu shi ." She left the room and I quickly changed back into my skirt without having to be tricky about it.

The point is, my feet feel like buttah and that's a good thing.