I thought I was in Tokyo!
- Daisuke Saso San (Juniper Networks), Japan
More to come soon. Right now, I have to jump into the shower!
More to come soon. Right now, I have to jump into the shower!
Right, where was I... before the desperately needed way to relax from a long day, here goes the report for the hard work done.
Ok, this may seemed a bit trivial but I had the best khaoya so far in Beijing. I know they all mentioned the ones (apparently only 200 ducks flew in terror everyday) in Dadong but I was very privileged to be invited to the Beijing Hong Kong Jockey Club and Clubhouse. I still hold it as one of the best hidden modern architectural fusion of the old and new, a perfect marriage of clean lines, honesty in material, and effective utilisation of natural light, space, and the people it houses inside.
Earlier in the morning, Mr. Chen came to fetch me for lunch with Patty and her girlfriends. Admittedly, the two glasses of merlot from last night at the Red Moon, listening to my favourite quartet belting out gentle tunes through the erhu and pipa, I was struggling to look decent due to the lack of sleep. So a nice heavy brunch was quite in the order for me. We reached early to Patty's school where she took her weekly mandarin lesson, and Mr. Chen and I conversed across a bevy of topics. I must say that I felt more confident than I had been since arriving, in using my rusty putonghua but I guessed I tried to be as genuine as much as I racked my brains to remember, Mr. Chen seemed pretty jovial. It was too cold and windy to be standing outside although it was too easy to presume the sun shining outside the car bestowed a better deal than the stuffy interior of the car (no thanks to the effective heater). I did get out to just get the experience of being blown out of my wits. It was really windy and my face felt like it had been pulled up taunt like how those dudes do it at the Chinese Opera. The girls did come out after what felt like a passing windstorm and I met Lulu from Mexico and Sangheeta from Nepal. The four of us went for some Tibetan lunch at Palta Dungkar (opposite the Canadian Embassy).
Now, I liked the decor of the place more than the menu. We had mostly lots of grilled meat, the pau was little to be desired of as I got a bias towards the fluffy mantou and crispy jiaozhi. But what kicked the living groove out of me was tasting the buttered tea. I was pretty much geared up for yak burger but the chai looked harmless and I thought I could do it. The first taste was salty. So was the second. I figured out by then that they don't really understand the concept of "kosong", "kurang manis", or just "teh".
Mr. Chen opted out. So did I, never quite reaching base 2.
After the laborious job of making entertaining talk and polite laughter, prompt enquiry with these expatriate ladies, Patty and I went to the Sanlitun Yashow Clothes Market and it was a blast! I couldn't have gone to a better place but given that darn shortage of time, I couldn't visit the biggest Adidas store in the entire universe known to us... but Yashow did bring out some goodies. Since Patty looked more like a lost, helpless (and gullible) tourist than me, I was pretty much left unattended, unbothered while we walked up the levels of goods. Clothes, measured tailoring, shoes, bags, hair accessories, jade, pearl, fans, knocked-off iPod, wood carving, tea... it was really just tiring looking.
I did find a corner store where I pretended to not speak any Mandarin. The seller was really impressed (if I may say so) of my ancient Chinese relic knowledge as she tried to bull shit her way around the goods. I caught her by the line, hook and sinker - and bargained a good 300 yuan for a pair of old door knocks, a pair of the male / female lions, an empress wine cup, and an emperor's wine set. They were made to look pretty dated and I just simply loved it.
Now, back in pitch dark roads or so it seemed that way because of the flood of lights from the oncoming traffic, the early evening took an appearance of more like 9pm. I walked towards the Regent to meet the rest of the crew and so we headed to my culinary heaven.
The stunner of the show - jellyfish appetizer - was delicately crunch, a good yin yang of the sourish and sweet, a hint of salty finish, was the perfect start to tease my already fanatical stomach. Besides the almost divine thin wraps of pancake concealing the fragrant slices of khaoya, I like their version of the jiaozhi. Small, plump, juicy, I think I nearly could understand the obsession of those obsessive emperors during the Tang dynasty over their imperial concubines. They were just like... my favourite jiaozhi.
Ahem, recovering from my Freudian slip, dessert was quit peculiar. Two tangyuan floated in this small rice wine broth with wolfberries. Wicked but I think the wine was poorly cured. The blistering cold walk back was a nice way to wind down my already blissfully tortured stomach while my mind was trying to file away what I could gather from its interior design. Circular wall opening that led the garden walking path into the parts of the building that were shied away in darkness, garden bed lamps that blended in almost as if they were little stars that fell from the great heavens onto this fertile ground. Massive marble halls and refined antique horses framed through the inside walls. One could go giddy just taking it all in, if you are already not being done by the fresh vast vases of oriental lilies strewn generously, punctuating each level of foyer that separates the restaurant from the meeting rooms, and finally the main entrance.
During our walk back, one dodgy guy came out from the back and asked one of our crew members "Sir, you want lady?". That was quite a rude way for him to snap back from the titillating experience of the clubhouse's decor and culinary escape. But I reckoned he took it pretty well, just a simple "no" and he scooted the guy off his back. We are really a decent lot but one just wondered... did we look like we needed it?
But then again, one of us got punched in the gut with a "hey sir, you want man love?".
And he was a dude.
