Ningbo's Finest

Having recovered from the Walmart incident, I decided to play tourist on Saturday. Ningbo’s best known site is its 16th cent library, the oldest in China (here’s a link with more info: http://www.nbtravel.gov.cn/pub/nbtravel/en/Visit_OC/200803/t5677.htm). It’s located on Moon Lake, which is surrounded by lots of bridges, water lilies, and gorgeously landscaped trees and rocks.

To get there I walked down what must have been wedding row. All of the shops had to do with weddings; dresses, photographers, florists, salons. In Chinese weddings, brides change dresses 5 times—one of the women at the Foreign Affairs Office said that this was because there are a lot of toasts at weddings and all the clothes changes gave the bride a chance to avoid becoming completely soused! Well, judging by what I saw on wedding row, these dresses are quite the fashion statements—picture the worst (best?) 80s prom dress you can, throw in some belly dancing inspiration, and you are ready to get married. And the tuxes weren’t far behind: my favorite was white with gold flower print. Remember ¬True Life: I’m Getting Married and Jersey “ I will gut you like a fish” guy? He would love this tux.



I didn’t actually go the library this time (I’m holding out for going with a Chinese person who can read me the information cards), but wended my way along the path along the lake. I passed 2 or 3 people washing their clothes in the lake—I’m not sure if they were homeless—the clothes looked quite nice—or just taking advantage of free water. There were also people fishing and paddle boating. There was a walled in garden, with a bridge leading to a keyhole entrance, framing a small pond and twisted trees. Another “I’m in China moment.” I wandered around looking at pagodas and water lilies, along with lots of couples and photographers. This must be where everyone goes to take pictures—I saw a little kid and several sets of brides and grooms—none in white floral tuxes, unfortunately. I had some ice cream by the lake side, and was excited to discover that Chinese people have the same cheesy tourist photo opportunities as Americans do: Tony and I collect these, so I’ll have some nice ones to add to our collection.



As I was wandering, I got accosted by two Chinese kids. There’s nothing unusual about this. Because pretty much everyone studies some English, and westerners are sparse, everytime I walk across campus I get a spate of “Hello, how are yous.” Then, if it’s a girl, the kid always giggles in excitement/fear of having practiced her English and runs away. Just that morning I had been chased down by a group of girls who yelled ‘we are freshmen. We would like to talk to you!” Then we talked for about five minutes. They told me that I was the first foreigner they had ever spoken to and then looked me over and said “you are very beautiful.” What could I do but agree? Anyway, these two kids in the park had maybe 10 words of English, but they were excited to talk to me. They said “American?” and I agreed, “Meiguoren.” Then they asked “New York?” and I shook my head. Next they said “Obama?” at which I nodded enthusiastically. They followed this up with “George Bush”: I shook my head and said “bo hao.” At this point we’d pretty much used up our vocabulary—the more talkative guy said Kung Fu and showed me some moves and then we counted to 10 in each other’s respective languages. Anyway, before I left they grabbed my camera and insisted that I take a picture with each of them.



I finished up the day in the old market, which is a covered area with stores selling every imaginable tcotchke. I really need to learn the Chinese word for tcotchke, because they have a lot of it: bobble head figures, cell phone charm, giant stuffed animals, jewelry, note pads, carvings, etc. (By the way my vocabulary—especially about beverages— is growing by leaps and bounds: I can say orange juice and lemony and sugar and know how to ask for a waiter in the standard polite way and the more informal Ningbo way (you just yell mister, or lady, which will get you some angry looks outside of this area, according to my students). Today I also learned the word for lion tamer—long story involving a made up chosen career for the resume class I’m teaching—which I’m sure will come in handy). I found some makeup at amazing prices (Chanel mascara for $2 anyone?) and just enjoyed the crush of people.



The other big excitement this week was the university brass threw a lunch for foreign teachers—besides our group there is one brit and two Americans, who teach English and American culture, and two Japanese professors (I felt bad for them—they had minimal English and I’m guessing not a lot of people in China speak Japanese). The lunch was all typical Ningbo dishes and the food was delicious and beyond bountiful. When we came to the table the lazy susan in the middle was already loaded up with dishes—soft tofu, roast duck, roast chicken, greens, some sort of preserved looking fish. After they served us a seafood soup, the waitresses just kept adding more and more dishes: crab, shrimp, steamed fish, steamed lotus root (very tasty—a cross between artichoke and corn flavor), beans with chestnuts, chinese cabbage with preserved shrimp, pork and greens in a spicy sauce, clams, fried beef strips with Mongoloian seasoning, pickled radish, something called Chinese yam which didn’t taste at all like ours—a crunchy, slightly watery texture and faintly sweet and earthy. A scallop dish—big slices of insanely sweet scallop served in the shell with vermicelli and some peppers and a slightly sweet sauce got special attention: the waitresses came by and put one on each of our bowls. As soon as one dish got low, the waitresses whisked it away and added three more. Towards the end they began to bring sweeter dishes—corn in a sort of fritter and hot dates stuffed with sticky rice and glazed with sugar syrup. Then, came a second soup—sugar water with dumplings stuffed with black sesame paste and watermelon. That was all. We axtually never got rice—according to a Chinese woman we had dinner with (who disdained Szechuan cuisine as wimpy because the peppers in it were whole and could be picked around, as opposed to her province, where they grind them up fine and put them on everything) it’s considered rude to serve rice while people are drinking (beer is another of my words for the week, btw), I think because it would soak up the booze. So, no rice for us. The director who was hosting us promised he could get more food if we felt the need, but I could barely roll home as it was!

Here's a view of the table (and guests!) eabout mid way through--that lazy susan would get far fuller! Look how happy my back looks eating all that yummy food. I have pictures from moon lake, but somebody named Mr Tony Wilson is supposed to be photo-shoppinng them. It's been so grey here that all the pics look a little gloomy.