Life's Persistent Questions

Thursday, Nov 25.

After a nice, short, refreshing train ride from Beijing (NOT!), I woke up in the city of my youth, with a raging case of dry mouth and sore throat. But nevertheless, once we got off the train, it feels different from the Northern Capital. I'm more at ease here. It just feels familiar. It is not really that I know where everything is in the city, or where the roads lead to. In fact, I have an upside-down perception of the city--I orient myself from my father's home in Huangpu district, facing south toward my mother's home in Luwan district, so to me up is south, left is east, and so forth. But at least I got some sense of direction.

After checking in with dad, we decided on today's schedule. The plan is to see my grandma, dad's mom, first, and thus showing my childhood home to gf. Then a stroll through the downtown that I know the best: the route between my home and my middle school that I had taken countless times. From then we will have a few options since we will be in the heart of the city, People's square, and the intersection of the two main subway lines.

It was nice to see grandma. Gf is impressed with how pretty she looks at age of 80. Twenty years, when I was growing up and she was 60, she did not look her age at all. She probably started having noticeable white hairs only ten years ago. I have noticed that she is slower now, and gained some weight, but that's only inevitable. As to why she still lives in the old Shikumen buildings without plumbing, I don't know. However, it seemed to impress gf a lot that I came from such Shikumen upbringing. I had wanted her to see what these neighborhood looks like, sort of as my answer to the silly Hutong craze up north. But apparently the city government had beaten me to it--they just finished painting the entire neighborhood. The walls lost their natural age-worn color and the outline of bricks was redrawn with an ugly white paint. They even painted the outer face of the window frames, in a ghastly red paint. But as I sit in the room I grew up in, looking at the peeling wallpapers, the same one that I still remember watching been applied on, I'm amazed how life remained the same for those that lived inside these rooms. I wonder what my dad felt when he first come back after 10 years in the U.S. I imagine there was not so much change to the rooms, buildings, neighborhood and the whole city in 1990 from 1980. Of course, this room not withstanding, so much else had changed in those 10 years.

We then walked to Nanjing Xi Lu, up Xizang Lu, into the back streets, and arriving at my middle school, Gezhi. Since the gf was impressed by all things old and authentic, I was eager to show her the old building, with its ivy covered face. But again, the walk toward progress had beaten me to the punch. The old building is no more, torn down to make way a third new building for the school. I supposed that I should be heartened that the school is still here, in a golden location in the heart of downtown. Any lesser school would have sold out a long time ago, and moved to Pudong. Turning back from the construction, I wonder what it is like to be going to Gezhi today. No doubt, the students here wake up everyday with the same mixed sense of pride and dread (oh the homeworks and tests). But what would it be like to see the Starbucks sitting directly across the street? Do Chinese students or for that matter anyone study in Starbucks in China? Probably not, and probably can't afford it anyway.

As we stroll back toward Xinshijie, a department store with a huge food court, I had to stop to get some Sheng jian bao. They are heavenly. My favorite breakfast, in fact my top ten dishes, in the world. This time I ate eight (100 grams). In fact, the next two breakfasts in Shanghai, I will eat another 30-some in total. The thing I can't understand is that I had never found a bad sheng jian bao in Shanghai anywhere, but I have never found a decent one anywhere else, in the world. It must be the dedicated large frying pan that they use. This bring me back to another childhood memory. First I will admit that I was pretty spoiled when I was younger. But one of the few things that I did was to buy my own breakfast, usually these delicious buns. I remember waiting for them, will watch the people inside. Making the dough, stuffing the meat filling and wrapping dough around it, etc. I always hope to be the first, but there is usually a line. When the buns in the pan (which fits hundreds) are getting low, I, holding the ticket, wish it not to have enough for me but rather it run out before my turn. That way, I will get ones that come fresh out the pan, therefore will have the most juicy soup inside them. I will watch the guy (it's inevitably a guy, to handle the cast-iron pan, with its lid, use gloves) add ladles of oil, placing the buns, add water, and close the lid. Then he will periodically and methodically rotate the pan, which is about a meter wide, to ensure the most even cooking. Opening the lid maybe once to check. And when the lid is finally opened, it was the most beautiful sight for me. The steam rushes up. The buns glissenning. The sound of the sizzling oil. When he cuts the buns into my portion (the bottom of the buns are burnt) I can almost taste the crispy bottom in my mouth. And inevitably, I will burn my mouth on the first bun that I bite into, or squirt a pocket full of juicy on to my shirt. But I digress. These sheng jian bao that I got today was okay, but good after two years.

I suppose that after that, the lunch at the top of Xinshijie was anti-climatic. I noticed a trend that moves away from little dishes and moves toward large grilling dishes, hot-pots, and stews. Sure they are still incredibly cheap and 100x better than the panda-express at your average American food court, but I just can't bring myself to waste so much. I am, however, outraged at the 12 rmb beer that I got from a waitress. $1.50 for a beer, where am I, California?

To be continued...

posted by hedgehog @ 11:59 AM