Not one to let an expensive, pointless taxi ride mar my initial impressions of Beijing, I decided to go exploring. After all I’d got really good at saying “Bu xie xie” (No thank you) to the various tuktuks and taxis that tried to pick me up. “Long walk!” No it ain’t. I let myself get taken for a little ride just to experience a tuktuk, and when the inevitable fleecing moment arrived again, I just gave him a five euro note and said “Sorry, all I got. Byeeeeee!”
Feeling more confident with Siri, Google Translate, Google Maps and a paper map by my side I decided to try and find the famous Wangfujing Market. Apparently it had authentic chinese food so I was looking forward to tasting the real mccoy instead of the oily chinese that we get back home. Finally I found it. Amidst largely modern and surprisingly capitalist-looking buildings, I discovered a little alleyway that transformed suddenly into what looked like the China of tourist brochures – lanterns, lots of red and street stalls. Lots and lots of street stalls, with, umm chinese food.
The first stall housed whole baby ducks on a stick. I decided to pass on that one thinking there must be a chow mein stand somewhere. I could see something that could be noodles wavering in the wind. But no, it was just a man threading live baby scorpions onto a skewer. Silly me.
Moving on to the next stand, there was a tantalising array of black scorpions and various insects, all neatly arranged on skewers. The stallowners really do take great pride in their produce. Of note was the careful way the baby snakes had been fried then pierced just below the head, eyes still intact (much like the ducks). I imagine these would be deliciously chewy with a slight crunch to the bite. I imagine, because I quickly moved on.
Still couldn’t find anything resembling chow mein, just many more interesting, genuinely authentic chinese…dishes.
Having found only a fruity rice popsicle that looked edible, I finally came to the last stand where a crowd had gathered. Ahh this must be it. The normal food, chow mein, dumplings, egg foo young, that sort of thing. I looked to see what all the fuss was about. Turns out it was a woman eating a big black furry spider. Skewered of course, and grilled. I turned to a chinese man and mimed “Do you actually eat that?!” He shook his head. “Tourists.”
I returned to the fruity rice popsicle stand and hurried away with my purchase. Oh well, I’m sure tonight’s dinner will make up for it.
Someone had told me I just had to try the authentic Beijing hot pot. As luck would have it, there was a Beijing Hot Pot restaurant just around the corner from my hotel. Brilliant! No idea what a Beijing Hot Pot was, but hey, this is an adventure trip, and I’m sure it’s some kind of slow-cooked beef or even a spicy jungle curry.
This is the moment when you discover sometimes it really is best to do your homework and research what you are eating before you go out, instead of trying to be devil-may-care. I ordered the hot pot with what I thought must be a variety of side dishes. Siri came in handy as did lots of pointing at pictures (thank God for pictures). I was glad it all looked normal.
The Chinese people seem to be a happy lot because the restaurant staff were giggling and laughing a lot behind the kitchen door. I was the only one in the restaurant. An uneasy feeling came over me as they brought out an enormous soup tureen filled with a thin tomato broth. They set it down on a gas element on the table and lit the flames. Um ok. Then out came the side dishes. Obviously slices of meat and vegetables. Lots and lots of them. What is this, a fondu? Why so much? God, how much did I order? Then I thought, of course, I’ll just dip stuff in and eat it. The staff were still giggling.
OK people, I got this. It’s a hotpot in a soup broth, so clearly it’s a soup and I’m just meant to throw everything in the broth and then ladle it back out again into this little tiny bowl here with some sauce in it. Oh wait, there’s masses of these sauces, different types. Ah, clearly I’m meant to throw them in the soup as well, to thicken and flavour it a bit more.
After having done all this I realised I didn’t have a bowl to ladle the soup into. I looked up desperately at the staff and the waiter arrived.
“OK?”
“Um yes, ” I nodded. “Yum yum.” “Spoon?”
The waiter returned with a spoon for me, which he placed beside the chopsticks. Smiling.
I picked up the chopsticks and looked at them a long time. Bollocks. I was right the first time. I scooped everything out of the soup with the spoon and then picked up the pieces one by one with the chopsticks, dunked them in the soup and ate them.
I got this, I thought, I got this.
The staff were still giggling as I paid and rolled myself out of the door.
Turns out hotpot is a shared dining experience and not usually meant for one. I’d just eaten about a four person dinner, and spattered soup everywhere in my attempts to rescue the morsels of food I’d dumped into the tureen. Note to self: First Google THEN go out.
Oh well. Tomorrow is another day and the start of the Trans Siberian Train Journey!!!
